Operation Luna by Anderson, Poul. Part four

“Inevitably, if we’ll be away for any length of time. Of course, well

make no mention of what we really have in mind.”

I must force: “You don’t trust him–entirely?”

Her fingers tightened around her knees. “That’s beside the point. The

idea is to take Fu Ch’ing by surprise. What Will, or anybody, doesn’t

know can’t be… tricked… out of him.” She was silent for a bit. “We

can tell him about the al-Bunni plans in nonspecific terms. If something

comes of that, it won’t stay secret long.”

We entered his neighborhood of old houses, old trees, old memories. She

lifted us into the top traffic lane, which nobody else was using, and

unsheathed her wand. “Edgar,” she said to the bird on her shoulder,

“seek out any spy who lurks hereabouts,” added several arcane words, and

touched the star to his beak.

“Gruk,” he croaked, “yoicks,” and took off. We circled around several

blocks while he disappeared beneath the sunlit green crowns.

He was soon back, flapped alongside, and pointed with his beak. We

followed. When he landed on her shoulder again, she aimed the wand

straight earthward. It flashed. She smiled as sweetly as any cat at a

mouse, brought us to street level, and cruised past the spot. Two

vehicles stood on their unfolded legs a couple of blocks diagonally from

the rear of Will’s house, barely in sight of it. Neither was noteworthy,

a broom and a small carpet with its pavilion up and curtains drawn.

We passed on by. Ginny nodded. “Two men inside,’ she said, “doubtless

Fibbies. They’re employing a server and a spell checker. Whenever Will

leaves, I daresay one trails him, on foot or on the stick.”

“They’ll note our arrival,” I said unnecessarily.

“And why should we not visit my brother?”

“Hey,” I cried, “if he’s been under surveillance, then after that

encounter we had, he’s got to be in the clear!”

“A great enough, alien enough Power could deceive their eyes and blind

their apparatus.”

Her starkness shriveled my timbre. “You don’t mean you really believe–”

“No. I don’t. But it is a possibility that will have occurred to the

agency. We need facts–positive, not negative evidence–who and what the

enemy is, what he’s been doing and why.”

We settled in front of the little house. Sun-speckled shade cooled an

outsize, not too well mowed lawn. A goldfinch chirped energetically,

somewhere among leaves. Will met us at the door. His clothes were sloppy

and comfortable, his handshake firm, his voice hearty. “Welcome. What’s

the occasion?”

“Oh, to say hello and, well, see how you’re doing,” I replied. “You’re

looking pretty good.”

“Feeling it, too. Sorry I was such a moomph yesterday.” Was it only

yesterday? Judas priest! “In rotten shape. But now– Come in, come in.”

Ginny had kept her wand loosely in her hand and stayed a bit aside. From

the corner of an eye I saw her give the rod a casual half twirl that

swept the star-point over his breast before she collapsed and sheathed

it. Edgar leaned forward at the same instant, wings partly spread, beak

aimed.

“Why, is anything wrong?” she said to the raven, quite lightly, and once

more spoke a phrase unknown to me. He buzzed into her ear. She laughed.

“Just fidgety.” We went inside.

Crammed bookshelves fairly well lined the living room. Volumes spilled

over onto worn carpet and shabby chairs. They included an I Ching and

Book of Songs in the original–he’d identified them for us earlier–

through scientific and historical tomes to literature from Shakespeare

to Sherlock Holmes, with plenty of modern paperbacks in various

languages. Some of the covers on those were gaudy. Two fine old Chinese

scrolls found space on the walls. Something in the background, I guessed

by Vivaldi, turned the tobacco-tainted air lyrical.

Will cleared seats for us. “Beer?” he offered. “I’ve made a discovery, a

Dutch brew, worth sailing far for.”

We said yes, please, and settled ourselves, Edgar on the mantel amidst a

souvenir collection of Japanese figurines, dogs and badgers and whatnot.

Will went off to the kitchen. Ginny leaned close to me. Her whole being

glowed. “Steve,” she whispered, “he’s at peace.”

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