After dropping her bags in the apartment and opening the windows to air out the fresh paint srnell, she went down to the bookstore to start learning the routines. It differed from the store in Albuquerque in many details, but basically it was the same old job. She thought it would be more fun, however, since many of her pet gripes were eliminated. The computers were better, faster, and the software was easier to use. The bookkeeping system was very high tech and three-quarters automatic, and there were scanners for perpetual inventory. She had been telling Goose for years that they needed scanners. These shops even had a reorder program integrated with the inventory, one that printed out the reorder lists by jobbers for any books that had sold off the shelves within a specified period of time. All the stores were coordinated, for accounting purposes, and all the accounting was done here.
The Washington store stayed open until 7:00, to catch the afterwork shoppers and late calls or Web orders, many of them from congressional offices.
“The legislature being here, with all the lobbyists in the world hovering like bees over honey, that’s where we got the name, The Literary Lobby,” Simon muttered, interrupted by a huge yawn. “Sorry. I suppose I could have gone home to bed last night, but I didn’t want to leave the workmen alone in the building, even with the connecting doors locked. I bunked in the office, but with this Jerusalem thing, I left the TV on in case the world ended. I didn’t want to sleep through it.”
“Why don’t you go on home now,” she suggested.
“I am. Your keys are on your desk: they’re labeled. Don’t unlock the outside front door until ten, Monday through Saturday. Sundays, we don’t open until noon. First one in makes the coffee.”
He left, locking the door behind him, and she went back through the stockroom to the elevator and up to her own apartment, where she found two dead male movie stars sitting next to one another on the couch. She screamed and her balance shifted, making her stagger.
They apologized in Chiddy and Vess’s voices.
She couldn’t name either of their likenesses, but the faces were familiar. “You startled me,” she cried, collapsing on the sofa. “You know, it’d really be helpful for me if you’d settle on a shape. If you won’t do that, at least give me a way to know which of you is which. You know you’ve got everyone in the world upset. Why are you doing it?”
“Why are we doing what?” asked the larger famous person, smiling tenderly at her. Benita had seen that smile somewhere. Late movie. Old movie, black-and-white. She shook her head, trying to concentrate. Not Gary Grant. Gregory Peck? No. Who was that other one? The dark, incredibly handsome one? Like the heartthrob guy on ER, only more so. She came to herself with a start.
“Why did you do that thing in Israel? And why are you being men?” she cried. “I was just getting used to the Indian ladies.”
“Which question do you want answered,” asked the larger man gradually morphing into Indira, complete with sari.
“Why Jerusalem?”
“We did it because General McVane challenged us. We had to show your people that we have powers, that we can do things you can’t. Your president mentioned that the Middle East was a powder keg, as he put it, which makes Jerusalem a focal point. So, we removed it. We can remove more of the city if the modest hole we’ve created so far isn’t sufficient to calm the storm.”
“I should think it would only agitate things,” she said.
“Oh, it may. Temporarily. We’ll do some suspensions, too. That’s usually quite efficacious.”
“Suspensions?”
“We’ll tell you when you need to know.”
“What did you do with the Temple Mount?”
“It’s intact. It isn’t destroyed, just . . . sequestered. We put the whole city away, for now. In another . . . realm. We can transport the entire population of the area to that same place. Or, we can pick and choose. All the Jews. Or all the Palestinians. We may even give it back, in time. If the people earn it.”