I punched the Tormeys’ Winnipeg call code, resigned to hearing:
“The code you have signaled is temporarily out of service at the subscriber’s request.”
What I got was: “Pirates Pizza Palace!”
I muttered, “Sorry, I punched wrong,” and cleared the board. Then I punched again, most carefullyÄ
Äand got: “Pirates Pizza Palace!”
This time I said, “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m in Las Vegas Free State and have been trying to reach a friend in WinnipegÄbut twice I’ve reached you. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“What code did you punch?’,’
I told the friendly voice. “That’s us,” she agreed. “Best giant pizzas in British Canada. But we opened just ten days ago. Maybe your friend used to have this call code?”
I agreed with that, thanked the pleasant voice, and clearedÄsat back and thought. Then I punched ANZAC Winnipeg while wishing mightily that this minimum-service terminal could bring in a picture from farther away than Las Vegas itself~ in trying to play Pinkerton it helps to watch faces. Once ANZAC’s computer answered, I asked for the operations duty officer, I having become somewhat more sophisticated in how to handle that computer. I told the woman who answered, “I’m Friday Jones, a New Zealand friend of Captain and Mrs. Tormey. I tried to call their home and could not reach them. I wonder if you can help me?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Really? Not even a suggestion?”
“I’m sorry. Captain Tormey resigned. He even cashed in his pension rights. I understand that he’s sold his house, so I assume that he is gone for good. I do know that the only address we have for him is his brother-in-law’s address at the University of Sydney. But we can’t give out addresses.”
I said, “I think you mean Professor Federico Farnese, Biology Department, at the University.”
“That’s right. I see you know it.”
“Yes, Freddie and Betty are old friends; I knew them when they lived in Auckland. Well, I’ll wait till I’m home to call Freddie and that will get me Ian. Thanks for being so helpful.”
“My pleasure. When you talk to Captain Tormey, please tell him that Junior Piloting Officer Pamela Heresford sends her best.”
“I will remember.”
“If you are going home soon, I have good news for you. The semi schedule for Auckland is now fully restored. We’ve rim ten days of cargo-only and we are now certain that there is no longer any way our ships can be sabotaged. We are offering a forty percent discount on all fares now, too; we want to get our old friends back.”
I thanked her again but told her that, since I was in Vegas, I expected to leave from Vandenberg, then switched off before I had to improvise more lies.
Again I sat and thought. Now that the SBs were running should I go to Sydney first? There wasÄor used to beÄa weekly trajectory from Cairo to Melbourne, and vice versa. If it was not running it was possible to go by tube and float craft via Singapore, Rangoon, Delhi, Teheran, Cairo, then down to NairobiÄbut it would be expensive, long, and uncertain, with squeeze at every move and always the chance of being grounded by some local disturbance. I might wind up in Kenya without money enough to go up the Beanstalk.
A last resort. A desperate one.
I called Auckland, was unsurprised to be told by the computer that Ian’s call code was not operative. I checked to see what time it was in Sydney, then called the university, not doing it the routine way through its admin office but punching straight through to its biology department, a call code I had obtained a month back.
I recognized a familiar Strine accent. “Marjorie Baldwin here, Irene. Still trying to find my lost sheep.”
“My word! Luv, I tried, I did try, to deliver your message. But Professor Freddie never did come back to his office. He’s left us. Gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“You wouldn’t believe how many people would like to know! I’m not even supposed to be telling you this. Somebody cleaned out his desk, there’s no hide nor hair in his flatÄgone! I can’t tell you more than that, because nobody knows.”