“As usual, Hubert, you’re too self-righteous to see your own frailties,” Godolphin replied. “How do you know I am the only one they targeted? Could you swear to me every one of your circle is above suspicion? How closely do you watch your friends? Your family? Any one of them might be a part of this conspiracy.”
It gave Oscar a perverse joy to sow these doubts. He saw them taking root already, saw faces that half an hour before had been puffed up with their own infallibility deflated by doubt. It was worth the risk he’d taken with these theatrics, just to see them afraid. But Shales wouldn’t leave this bone alone.
“The fact remains this thing was in your employ,” he said.
“We’ve heard enough, Hubert,” McGann said softly. “This is no time for divisive talk. We’ve got a fight on our hands, and whether we agree with Oscar’s methods or not—and just for the record, I don’t—surely none of us can doubt his integrity.” He glanced around the table. There were murmurs of accord on all sides. “God knows what a creature like this might have been capable of had it realized its ruse had been discovered. Godolphin took a very considerable risk on our behalf.”
“I agree,” Lionel said. He’d come around to Oscar’s side of the table and placed a glass of neat malt whisky in the executioner’s freshly wiped fingers. “Good man, I say,” he remarked. “I’d have done the same. Drink up.”
Oscar accepted the glass. “Salut,” he said, downing the whisky in one.
“I see nothing to celebrate,” said Charlotte Feaver, the first to sit down at the table despite what lay upon it. She lit a fresh cigarette, expelling the smoke through pursed lips. “Assuming Godolphin’s right, and this thing was attempting to get access to the Society, we have to ask why.”
“Ask away,” Shales said dryly, indicating the corpse. “He’s not going to be telling us very much. Which is no doubt convenient for some.”
“How much longer do I have to endure this innuendo?” Oscar demanded.
“I said we’ve heard enough, Hubert,” McGann remarked.
“This is a democratic gathering,” Shales said, rising to challenge McGann’s unspoken authority. “If I’ve got something to say—”
“You’ve already said it,” Lionel remarked with well-lubricated vim. “Now why don’t you just shut up?”
“The point is, what do we do now?” Bloxham said. He’d returned to the table, his chin wiped, and was determined to reassert himself following his unmanly display. “This is a dangerous time.”
“That’s why they’re here,” said Alice. “They know the anniversary’s coming up, and they want to start the whole damn Reconciliation over again.”
“Why try and penetrate the Society?” Bloxham said. “To put a spoke in our wheels,” Lionel said. “If they know what we’re planning, they can outmaneuver us. By the way, was the tie furiously expensive?”
Bloxham looked down to see that his silk tie was comprehensively spattered with puke. Casting a rancorous look in Lionel’s direction, he tore it from his neck.
“I don’t see what they could find out from us anyway,” said Charlotte Feaver, in her distracted manner. “We don’t even know what the Reconciliation is.”
“Yes, we do,” Shales said. “Our ancestors were trying to put Earth into the same orbit as Heaven.”
“Very poetic,” Charlotte remarked. “But what does that mean, in concrete terms? Does anybody know?” There was silence. “I thought not. Here we are, sworn to prevent something we don’t even understand.”
“It was an experiment of some kind,” Bloxham said. “And it failed.”
“Were they all insane?” Alice said.
“Let’s hope not,” Lionel put in. “Insanity usually runs in the family.”
“Well, I’m not crazy,” Alice said. “And I’m damn sure my friends are as sane and normal and human as I am. If they were anything else, I’d know it.”
“Godolphin,” McGann said, “you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet.”
“I’m soaking up the wisdom,” Oscar replied.
“Have you reached any conclusions?”
“Things go in cycles,” he said, taking his time to reply. He was as certain of his audience as any man could ever hope to be. “We’re coming to the end of the millennium. Reason’11 be supplanted by unreason. Detachment by sentiment. I think if I were a fledgling esoteric with a nose for history, it wouldn’t be difficult to turn up details of what was attempted—the experiment, as Bloxham called it— and maybe get it into my head that the time was right to try again.”