“She was the influence that got him into all this in the first place,” Velte remonstrated. “If Hamilton starts listening to her now, we could get bogged down forever.”
“There isn’t much I can do from here,” Banks grumbled. “I’ve still got squabbling doctors who can’t even agree what it is. Anyway, you’re up there with him. I’m not.”
“But it’s the squabbling doctors that we need to play down,” Velte replied. “If anyone checks with you, don’t open up that can of worms. Tell them there’s no question that a perfectly rational explanation lies behind it all. It’s just going to take a little time. If Hamilton goes off on one of his tangents, he’ll be throwing wrenches in everywhere.”
“Okay, Thornton. You can count on me,” Banks promised. But Kieran got the feeling that Banks might be starting to wonder himself now.
“Perfect,” Kieran muttered to himself as he cut the connection from Trevany.
Taking the blank card that June had enclosed with the cross, he opened it and penned inside in a flourishing hand:
Let this guardian talisman watch over your future together,
From he who watches the future.
K. of T.
He placed the card on top of the cross, closed the box, and set it to one side. Then he used his comset to compose a message which read:
The most profuse greetings, Marissa.
Your forgiveness if this form of address seems inappropriate from one who has not met you; but then, in a way, I have—on the planes into which our psyches do indeed extend, and where they interact. You may not have become conscious of it yet at your early stage of material life, but you possess rare gifts of insight and understanding which one day will play their part in the further growth and enlightenment of the soul, which is the reason for our Earthly journey.
But I write now on a matter of a more immediate and serious nature, which concerns the disfigurement suffered by your father’s agents and their defenders, which he revealed to you today. Your father seeks the truth, but he is in danger of being misled by those close to him who will never see and cannot believe. The Plague of Akhnaton is a warning from the creators of the ancient mysteries. Empires have fallen, armies have been destroyed, cities crumbled to ruins . . . of those who would not heed.
I have come from afar to instruct you in the workings of the realms that have been hidden, and to beseech your cooperation now, while there is time, before calamity befalls us. I will be arriving before noon.
Earnestly,
He who is known as:
The Khal of Tadzhikstan
Kieran read the message through, complimented himself, and despatched it over an external channel to the Oasis hotel with a request for it to be printed out, sealed, and delivered to Ms. Marissa Gilder.
Which took care of everything on his list for the time being. He cleared away the evidence of his horticultural experimenting before leaving the room to be serviced, wrapped himself in a topcoat with the hat in a pocket to be less conspicuous, even among Lowell’s exotic display of styles and garbs, and taking the Martian Cross in its box and the white work coat, left the Oasis by a rear service exit to the parking area.
He strolled through to the spaceport terminal and went to the baggage locker that June had indicated. Two of his bags from the apartment were there, along with a short, ornately embroidered cloak that June had evidently decided to add—the ideal thing to set off the rest of the outfit. Kieran changed it for the topcoat, put the topcoat inside one of the bags along with the white work coat, and then went out onto the concourse to hail one of the electric runaround cars used for local public transportation. Minutes later, he was conspicuously set down at the main lobby entrance to the Oasis, where, leaving a bellman to take care of the bags, he swept inside in full regalia to announce himself. His reservation was confirmed; also, he was informed, he had a message waiting. The desk clerk presented him with a stiff, rose-pink envelope. The note inside read: