Judy had been away from her desk seeing Yeen from the building, so Corrigan was spared having to improvise some other pretext for getting her away from her desk to cover for Morgen and Sutton’s abrupt disappearance. One other detail that he did need to justify to keep things from getting difficult, however, was the continuing presence of Lilly. It seemed odd, at a time like this, to have to give consideration to satisfying the pseudocuriosity of a computer animation, but it was the easiest way of keeping things simple in the meantime for himself.
When Judy returned, Corrigan informed her that Lilly wanted to spend the rest of the morning going through her notes and listing any final questions before going back to California, and would be using the small conference room that Yeen had questioned her in. Lilly disappeared accordingly, and the routine calls and queries continued unabated until late morning. Then Judy announced that Mr. Ulsen was on the line from the Advisory Office of Advanced Technology, Washington. Corrigan told her to put the call through.
“Mr. Corrigan?”
“Yes.”
“Ulsen again. How are things in there?” At least there were no attempts at pretense this time.
“Never mind the niceties,” Corrigan growled. “Morgen and Sutton are back out, so you know the score. What’s the situation?”
“Your request is understood and appreciated, Mr. Corrigan. A delegation is on its way back into the simulation to talk to you.”
“That wasn’t a request, dammit. And there isn’t anything to talk about. Do you intend doing as I said, or do we start unhinging the whole works from the inside here?”
“Please understand that I am merely an intermediary. I have no personal authority in this. It’s all gone way over my head.”
“Then just get back out there and tell whoever is in charge to shut down the whole operation—now. That’s all there is to it. End. Period. Do you get the message, Mr. Ulsen?”
“Yes, I understand perfectly. But I have been asked to remind you of the reality of the time-rate differential. Some finite time will be required however urgently matters are expedited out here, and that will translate into a delay that may seem unduly protracted.”
“All you have to do is restore tee-tau to unity. Then we’d be able to talk direct and wouldn’t need an intermediary. It’s perfectly simple.”
“That is already being done. But as I’m sure you appreciate, it will still necessitate a considerable delay at your end. All we’re asking is for you to bear with us.”
Only if the intention was to talk. But Corrigan had already said that there was nothing to talk about. He was just about to launch into another outburst of invective when he saw Pinder hovering in the doorway of the office. Pulled in two directions, he wavered suddenly. “Be quick about it, then,” he muttered to Ulsen.
“Thank you for your understanding.”
Corrigan put the phone down and looked up. Pinder came in, closing the door. His expression was accusatory, yet at the same time questioning—unable to condone but reluctant to prejudge. Corrigan had been expecting it. Pinder had been involved when the police appeared with the news about Hatcher, and gone over the river to convey the tidings to Head Office. The calls from on high had begun soon afterward, and now he was back as an emissary to find out what in hell was going on.
Pinder opened. “I was prepared to overlook your indiscretion of yesterday, Joe, but this is going too far. Don’t you realize, the president of the company has been personally trying to contact you since first thing this morning. And you don’t seem to give a damn. What on earth’s gotten into you? I told you the last time that you are not the technical director yet. Now I think I’m beginning to realize just how unsuited you’d be to that task. Now, are you going to at least cover while we get the project up and running, or do I put in Frank Tyron as acting coordinator, effective immediately?”
Corrigan stared at him indifferently, feeling like Archimedes having to put up with the babbling soldier from Rome while trying to ponder things that mattered. On the other hand, Archimedes had gotten himself killed. There could be no letup yet; the game had to continue. But he had learned how to deal with animations.