“If you say so, Jan. But it’s only a theoretical point as I really do have to leave. Do you have a large-scale map of the border in the house? South border, I mean.”
“As good as. Call one up on the computer. If you want a printout, use the terminal in my study-off my bedroom.”
“I don’t want to interfere with the news.”
“You won’t. We can uncouple any terminal from all the others- necessary as this is a household of rugged individualists.”
“Especially Jan,” agreed Ian. “Marj, why do you want a big map of the Imperium border?”
“I would rather go home by tube. But I can’t. Since I can’t, I must find some other way to get home.”
“I thought so. Honey, I’m going to have to take your shoes away from you. Don’t you realize you can get shot trying to cross that border? Right now the guards on both sides are sure to be triggerhappy.”
“Uh . . . is it all right for me to study the map?”
“Certainly . . . if you promise not to try to sneak across the border.”
Georges said gently, “My brother, one should never tempt one of the dear ones to lie.”
“Georges is right,” Jan ruled. “No forced promises. Go ahead, Marj; I’ll clear up here. Ian, you just volunteered to help.”
I spent the next two hours at the computer terminal in my borrowed room, memorizing the border as a whole, then going to maximum magnification and learning certain parts in great detail. No border can be truly tight, not even the bristling walls some totalitarian states place around their subjects. Usually the best routes are near the guarded ports of entry-often in such places the smugglers’ routes are worn smooth. But I would not follow a known route.
There were many ports of entry not too far away: Emerson Junction, Pine Creek, South Junction, Gretna, Maida, etc. I looked also
at Roseau River, but it seemed to flow the wrong way-north into the Red River. (The map was not too clear.)
There is an odd chunk of land sticking out into the Lake of the Woods east-southeast of Winnipeg. The map colored it as part of the Imperium and showed nothing to stop one walking across the border at that point-if she were willing to risk several kilometers of marshy ground. I’m no superman; I can get bogged down in a swamp-but that unguarded stretch of border was tempting. I finally put it out of my mind because, while legally that chunk was part of the Imperium, it was separated from the Imperium proper by twenty-one kilometers of water. Steal a boat? I made a bet with myself that any boat, crossing that stretch of lake, would interrupt a beam. Failure to respond to challenge correctly would then result in a laser burn in the bow you could throw a dog through. I don’t argue with lasers; you can neither bribe them nor sweet-talk them-I put it out of my mind.
I had just stopped studying maps and was letting the images soak into my mind when Janet’s voice came out of the terminal: “Marjorie, come to the living room, please. Quickly!”
I came very quickly.
Ian was talking to someone in the screen. Georges was off to one side, out of pickup. Janet motioned to me to stay out of pickup, too. “Police,” she said quietly. “I suggest that you go down into the Hole at once. Wait and I’ll call you when they’ve gone.”
I answered just as quietly, “Do they know that I’m here?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Let’s be sure. If they know I’m here and they can’t find me, you’ll be in trouble.”
“We are not afraid of trouble.”
“Thanks. But let’s listen.”
Ian was saying to the face in the screen, “Mel, come off it. Georges is not an enemy alien and you damned well know it. As for this-‘Miss Baldwin,’ did you say?-why are you looking here for her?”
“She left the port with you and your wife yesterday evening. If she’s not still with you, then you certainly know where she is. As for
Georges, any Kaybecker is an enemy alien today no matter how long he has been here or what clubs he belongs to. I assume that you would rather have an old friend pick him up thana trooper. So switch off your sky guard; I’m ready to land.”