Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

Georges shook his head. “Not me. Damp. Unhealthy.”

“And besides,” Ian added, “I promised Marj that I would protect her from Georges. What’s the point in saving her life if you turn her over to a sex-crazed Canuck?”

“Don’t believe him, dear one. Liquor is my weakness.”

“Luv, do you want to be protected from Georges?”

I answered truthfully that Georges might need protection from me. I did not elaborate.

“As for your complaints about damp, Georges, the Hole has precisely the humidity of the rest of the house, a benign RH of fortyfive; I planned it that way. If necessary, we’ll stuff you into the Hole but we are not going to surrender you to the police.” Janet turned to me. “Come with me, dear; we’ll do a dry run. A wet one, rather.”

She took me to the room assigned to me, picked up my jumpbag. “What do you have in this?”

“Nothing much. A change of panties and some socks. My passport. A useless credit card. Some money. IDs. A little notebook. My real luggage is in bond at the port.”

“Just as well. Because any trace of you is going to be left in my room. If it’s clothing, you and I are near enough of a size.” She dug into a drawer and got out a plastic envelope on a belt-an ordinary female-style money belt. I recognized it although I’ve never owned one-useless in my profession. Too obvious. “Put anything into this that you can’t afford to lose, and we’ll put it on you. And seal it. Because you are going to get wet all over. Mind getting your hair wet?”

“Goodness, no. I just rub it with a towel and shake it. Or ignore it.”

“Good. Fill the pouch and take off your clothes. No point in getting them wet. Although, if the gendarmes do show up, you just go ahead and get them wet, then dry them in the Hole.”

Moments later we were in her big bath, me dressed in that waterproof money belt, Janet only in a smile. “Dear,” she said, pointing at that hot-tub-or-plunge, “look under the seat on the far side there.”

I moved a little. “I can’t see very well.”

“I planned it that way. The water is clear and you can see down into it all over. But from the only spot where you should be able to see under that seat the overhead light reflects on the water back into your eyes. There is a tunnel under that seat. You can’t see it no matter where you stand, but if you get facedown in the water you can feel for it. It is a bit less than a meter wide, about half a meter high, and about six meters long. How are you in enclosed places? Does claustrophobia bother you?”

“That’s good. Because the only way to get into the Hole is to take a deep breath, go under, and through that passage. Easy enough to pull yourself along because I built ridges into the bottom for that purpose. But you have to believe that it is not too long, that you can reach a place where it opens out in one breath, and that simply standing up will bring you up into the air again. You’ll be in the dark but the light comes on fairly quickly; it’s a thermal radiation switch. This time I’ll go ahead of you. Ready to follow me?”

“I guess so. Yes.”

“Here goes.” Janet stepped down onto the near seat, on down onto the floor of the tank. The waterline was at her waist or above. “Deep breath!” She did so, smiled, and went underwater and under that seat.

I stepped down into the water, hyperventilated, and followed her. I could not see the tunnel but it was easy to find it by touch, easy to pull myself along by finger-thick ridges in the bottom. But it did seem to me that the passage was several times six meters long.

Suddenly a light came on just ahead of me. I reached it, stood up, and Janet reached a hand down to me, helped me out of the water. I found myself in a very small room, with a ceiling not more than two meters above the concrete floor. It seemed pleasanter than a grave but not much.