The boat of a million years by Poul Anderson. Chapter 18-2

“Never mind,” Wanderer said. “Plain to see, in this crisis she felt she had to tip you off regardless.”

“It’s more than that,” Hanno replied. “We talked very circumspectly. A lot of what I tell you, I deduce logically from her indirect words, on the basis of what I knew before. But she checked again with her Washington sources and found she’s now under the eye too. After that gunfight, Moriarty may very well succeed in getting the FBI on the case. That’s the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Svoboda, a sort of national police. The drug connection, if nothing else. Even though Unity’s fought the narcotics traffic more effectively than any branch of government—well, could Tannahill be in it, could he have masterminded that assault? Also, the unfortunate fact is that the member who was killed had a pistol and used it. In New York that’s more illegal than mugging a grandmother. Since the Goetz case, the liberals have been out for blood. Macandal should be able to prove her innocence, but she’ll have a devil of a time first, and … anything might come out in the course of the investigation.”

“Not to mention that other woman, Aliyat, being in the hospital.”

“Yeah. She hasn’t been interrogated, in her condition, but when they do go to work on her, the fat could be in the fire. During her whorehouse days she was repeatedly arrested. You know the drill, spasm of public morality, hustle the girls off to show your zeal for law enforcement, then let them right back out. She was fingerprinted, over and over, through the years. And the FBI has accumulated the world’s largest collection of fingerprints.”

Wanderer grunted as if hit in the belly. Svoboda caught ; her lip between her teeth.

“Well, Macandal had already decided she should stop hesitating, get in touch with me, try to find out for herself what kind of a guy I am,” Hannfo continued. “Aliyat was to come this weekend as her representative and, hm, scout. An acid test, considering what last happened between us two. : “First they had in mind an express message to set up the meeting, me to reply the same way. But the shooting cut that off. Now she saw she’d better put her suspicions aside and confer in earnest. An exchange of written communications would obviously be too slow and cumbersome. A personal visit would give away too much, and we can’t manage a clandestine one in a hurry. Our phones are quite likely tapped—under the new circumstances, a word from Moriarty would persuade a judge of the proper political faith to allow that—but still seemed the only way. As soon as the police and the press withdrew, she left her house and called me from a member’s place. Chances are, nobody listening in knows French. It should take a little time to get a recording translated, and we used every possible circumlocution. I don’t think we let slip any hard-and-fast evidence that she was the person on the line. Still, she has undoubtedly compromised herself to a greater or lesser degree. It was a brave thing to do.”

“But also necessary,” Svoboda said. “Our secret is in the worst danger it ever has been, no?”

“Mainly she wanted to give me and any other immortals I know an opportunity to get out from under, make ourselves invisible, if we want to.” Hanno lifted a clenched fist. “By God, she has a free heart! I wish I could be as sure about her head. At the moment, she’s for ending the masquerade, making a clean breast of everything.”

“Does she trust the government that much?” Svoboda wondered.

“It wouldn’t be dangerous for her, I should think,” Wanderer said thoughtfully. “Not at first, anyhow. Hard on us, maybe. Especially you, Hanno.”

The Phoenician laughed. “I’d go hoarse, listing my crimes aloud. Just for openers, all those false identities of mine, complete with Social Security dog tags and annual tax returns, not to mention assorted licenses, birth and death certificates, passports—oh, I’ve been a desperate character, I have.”

“You might be let off easy, even pardoned,” Wanderer said. “And the rest of us, for our petty offenses. We’d be such a sensation.” He grimaced. “At worst, some years in jail wouldn’t matter too greatly to us.” His tone belied the words. It recalled roofless heavens and boundless horizons.

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