“Good. I’ll see you in a few months.”
“Righty-oh. Don’t need to make an appointment. I come in here every day at eleven for coffee. Just show up.”
I finished my beer and called a cab to take me home. I wanted to walk around the city, but Mother was right. I’d get a bodyguard first.
9
I came home and the phone was blinking pale blue. Didn’t know what to do so I punched “Operator.”
A pretty young girl’s head materialized in the cube. “Jefferson operator,” she said. “May I help you?”
“Yes. . . what does it mean when the cube is blinking blue?”
“Huh?”
“What does it mean when the phone-”
“Are you serious?” I was getting a little tired of this kind of thing.
“It’s a long story. Honest, I don’t know.”
“When it blinks blue you’re supposed to call the operator.”
“Okay, here I am.”
“No, not me, the real operator. Punch nine. Then punch zero.”
I did that and an old harridan appeared. “Ob-a-ray-duh.”
“This is William Mandella at 301-52-574-3975. I was supposed to call you.”
“Juzza segun.” She reached outside the field of view and typed something. “You god.da call from 605-19-556-2027.”
I scribbled it down on the pad by the phone. “Where’s that?”
“Juzza segun. South Dakota.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t know anybody in South Dakota.
A pleasant-looking old woman answered the phone. “Yes?”
“I had a call from this number. . . uh… I’m-”
“Oh. Sergeant Mandella! Just a second.”
I watched the diagonal bar of the holding pattern for a second, then fifty or so more. Then a head came into focus.
Marygay. “William. I had a heck of a time finding you.”
“Darling, me too. What are you doing in South Dakota?”
“My parents live here, in a little commune. That’s why it took me so long to get to the phone.” She held up two grimy hands. “Digging potatoes.”
“But when I checked.. . the records said-the records in Tucson said your parents were both dead.”
“No, they’re just dropouts-you know about dropouts?- new name, new life. I got the word through a cousin.”
“Well-well, how’ve you been? Like the country life?”
“That’s one reason I’ve been wanting to get you. Willy, I’m bored. It’s all very healthy and nice, but I want to do something dissipated and wicked. Naturally I thought of you.
“I’m flattered. Pick you up at eight?”
She checked a clock above the phone. “No, look, let’s get a good night’s sleep. Besides, I’ve got to get in the rest of the potatoes. Meet me at. . . the Ellis Island jetport at ten tomorrow morning. Mmm. . . Trans-World information desk.”
“Okay. Make reservations for where?” She shrugged. “Pick a place.”
“London used to be pretty wicked.”
“Sounds good. First class?”
“What else? I’ll get us a suite on one of the dirigibles.”
“Good. Decadent. How long shall I pack for?”
“We’ll buy clothes along the way. Travel light. Just one stuffed wallet apiece.”
She giggled. “Wonderful. Tomorrow at ten.”
“Fine-ub. . . Marygay, do you have a gun?”
“It’s that bad?”
“Here around Washington it is.”
“Well, I’ll get one. Dad has a couple over the fireplace. Guess they’re left over from Tucson.”
“We’ll hope we won’t need them.”
“Willy, you know it’ll just be for decoration. I couldn’t even kill a Tauran.”
“Of course.” We just looked at each other for a second. “Tomorrow at ten, then.”
“Right. Love you.”
She giggled again and hung up.
That was just too many things to think about all at once.
I got us two round-the-world dirigible tickets; unlimited stops as long as you kept going east. It took me a little over two hours to get to Ellis by autocab and monorail. I was early, but so was Marygay.
She was talking to the girl at the desk and didn’t see me coming. Her outfit was really arresting, a tight coverall of plastic in a pattern of interlocking hands; as your angle of sight changed, various strategic hands became transparent. She had a ruddy sun-glow all over her body. I don’t know whether the feeling that rushed over me was simple honest lust or something more complicated. I hurried up behind her.