“When would you want to start?” Herbert asked Balmer.
“The sooner, the better,” Balmer replied. “Is there any reason why Dr. Sarda couldn’t come back with me now?” Herbert looked inquiringly at Sarda. Sarda returned a resigned shrug.
“Sam,” Herbert called to the outer office. Eason stuck his head in. “Leo Sarda will be leaving with Dr. Balmer right away. Could you go with them to reception, just to make sure they get off the premises okay?”
“Sure thing,” Sam said, holding open the door.
* * *
Sarda opened his eyes and looked around. He was in the consulting room at Balmer’s office, sitting in the black leather recliner that Balmer used for his patients. Balmer was standing in front of him, peering at him intently. Sarda was confused. He remembered coming here with Balmer from Quantonix, and acrimonious exchanges between them all the way. What Balmer had been doing at Quantonix, he wasn’t sure. He remembered being enraged at discovering that the five million was gone from the account at the Lowell Barham Bank, and accusing Balmer of taking it. It didn’t make any sense. That was the other Sarda’s loss: the copy’s—which had been the whole idea. It had been his own plan. Why would he accuse Balmer? Stewart Perrel had been there with the Morches, expressing concern at his supposedly forgetting things. Nothing made any sense.
“Leo?” Balmer’s voice was curiously anxious. Sarda focused on him. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel . . . strange—as if I’ve been confused over things, but I’m not sure why.” Sarda realized he had just awakened from a trance. This hadn’t been scheduled. He also realized with alarm that he had no recollection of closing the deal—the big one. His expression darkened. He had never liked Balmer or trusted him. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“Just bear with me, Leo. What are the last things you remember?”
“Being back in Quantonix for the last couple of days before you showed up . . . That’s crazy. What was I doing back there? Why wasn’t the copy around? Lots of questions from Stewart, Tom Norgent, others . . . Stupid questions. It seems like I was having trouble remembering a lot of things. I don’t know why. What have you been doing, Henry?”
Balmer seemed encouraged. He raised his hands placatingly. “Let’s go back a bit further—before the experiment. You remember the plan to appropriate the five million? It was your fixation, Leo—after you and Elaine came to me with the proposal for resuscitating you. And then the more worthwhile one of cutting our own deal . . . ?”
Sarda nodded. “I went into the process. Then, I guess, there were a couple of days blank.” That would have been while he was in stasis suspension.
“Yes, yes. Go on.”
“I remember coming out of resuscitation; leaving the building with Elaine. . . . We met you, came back here for a while, and then you took me to that crummy place out at the end of Gorky, where I was holed up for days.”
“I’m sorry, but it was necessary, Leo. We couldn’t risk your being recognized and mistaken for the copy at that point.”
Sarda looked around. “So where is Elaine?”
“Er, not here. She’s out of town right now. We’ll come to that later. So you remember the exchanges over technical details, setting up the meeting at Zodiac to close the deal. . . .”
“I left on time, went down to the maglev terminal . . .”
“And . . . ?” Balmer was taut, like an overwound spring on the verge of flying apart. He made tiny, impatient, circular motions with his hands.
Sarda frowned. That was where it got screwy. “I never got to the maglev. There was a guy there, turned out in a suit, like a lawyer or something. He gave some name—I don’t remember it; `Tune’ or something. Said he was from Zodiac and would drive me there. It was supposed to have been your idea.”
“Me? I don’t know anything about it. What then?”
“I didn’t believe him. But when I tried to pass, this other guy appeared from somewhere—huge guy, black. And they had a dog.”