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Authors: H.F. Saint

Tags: #Adult, #Fantasy, #Adventure, #Thriller, #Science Fiction

Memoirs Of An Invisible Man (68 page)

BOOK: Memoirs Of An Invisible Man
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N
ext morning, I had a
Times
delivered. Nothing on the front page. I went through the whole thing, page by page, column by column. Nothing. The whole thing had gone wrong. Anne probably hadn’t found Jenkins. I had to call.

I checked over my bandages as well as I could. Scabs had formed over the wounds, and the gauze seemed to have dried into them. One wound had partially reopened, but nothing more than a few drops of blood was oozing out. I cut two more strips of adhesive tape and patched on another piece of gauze.

I walked all the way down to midtown to get to an office with a safe telephone system and called Anne. Or rather I called her friend, Michael Herbert, and when he answered, I asked for Anne; her voice came on right away, as if she had been waiting there for the call.

“Hello,” she said eagerly. I was pleased that she remembered not to use my name.

“What was the matter?” I asked her straight off.

“What do you mean?”

“Why isn’t there anything in today’s
Times.
Couldn’t you find Jenkins?”

“Of course I found him. Your description was perfect. Everything was just the way you said, except for the Con Ed stuff.”

“Con Ed?”

“The story about the gas leak. I wasn’t expecting that from what you said. But we watched for almost half an hour. Jenkins was standing there the whole time, right in front of the building. Then when he was just about to go into the building, we went after him.”

“Did you get a picture?”

“Great pictures. He blinked like a mole when Jimmy stepped up to him with the camera. I introduced myself, told him I was from the
Times,
and asked him if he was Colonel David Jenkins, alias Donald Haslow, alias—”

“What did he say?” I asked eagerly.

“Nothing. He stopped dead and just kind of blinked. He just stood there as if he couldn’t hear me anymore, as if he were thinking about something miles away. Then he gave a little nod, not to anyone — more to himself, really — and walked back to his car.”

“Didn’t you ask him anything else?”

“Sure. All sorts of things. Why he was there, who he was representing, whether he had a search warrant for the Academy Club, whether the federal government officially believed that there was evidence of extraterrestrial life, all sorts of things.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing. Once he gave me a look as if he were memorizing my face. But basically he just walked to his car, got in, and drove away. It was amazing. Within, I would say, ten minutes everyone was gone — police, Con Edison, everyone.”

“And did they have a search warrant?”

“No. There was no search warrant. They’re staying with the story of the gas leak. They’re insisting Jenkins just happened to be driving by and stopped to take a look like anyone else—”

“So there’s no story?”

“Of course there’s a story. It’s a fantastic story.”

“Then why didn’t they run anything in today’s paper?”

“It’s not like that. You can’t run something like this without checking the whole thing out. Did you send that stuff you were going to give me on Jenkins?”

“I’ll put it in the mail for you,” I said.

“Everything you gave me over the phone checks out perfectly. The entire editorial board and the legal department have been meeting on this practically around the clock since last night. Two people flew down to Washington this morning, but the intelligence people are sticking absolutely to their story and at the same time screaming about the peril to national security if we print anything. It’s wonderful! I’ll be working on this full time.”

“That’s great, Anne. So there seems to be some discomfort about all this in Washington?”

“It’s unbelievable. They’ve gone into an absolute frenzy of not knowing anything, not commenting, not returning calls. This is obviously something big.”

“When do you think there might be an article, Anne?”

“I don’t know. A week, a month. Six months even. There’s an enormous amount of research to do on this. I want to give you a number where you can reach me any time you have information of any kind that could be useful. This is a very patriotic and brave—”

“Good luck with this, Anne. I can’t stay on this line too long.”

“Wait—”

I tried to think it all through. I was not sure exactly where all this left Jenkins, but it could only be bad for him. I went to another office several blocks away and spent some time getting ready and going over exactly what I would say, so that I could keep the call short no matter what tack Jenkins took.

I dialed Jenkins’s number, but it never rang: there was a click, and suddenly Jenkins was speaking to me.

“Halloway!” His voice was as soft as ever, but I could hear that it was contorted with anger.

“Good afternoon,” I said.

“Halloway, you don’t know what you’re doing.” His voice had a whining quality that seemed on the verge of turning into a snarl.

“Not exactly,” I conceded. “Nothing ever seems to come out exactly as we plan it. You probably find the same thing in your work—”

“Halloway, you’re ruining the careers of dedicated, decent men.”

“So you keep telling me. I want you to—”

“You act as if you were the only person in the world that mattered, as if you didn’t owe anything to anyone. These men have only tried to do their jobs and help you, but you—”

“Jenkins, do you mind if I give this number to the
Times?
They’ve been having the devil of a time reaching you.”

“We’re going to have to kill you now. I wanted you alive, but now I have to settle for you dead, just to survive.”

“That’s another thing you keep telling me. I want you to let Alice go.”

“There can be no question of that.” His voice took on an unpleasantly vindictive tone. “She’ll be with us until we have you. If she survives that long.”

“Jenkins, that’s enough. A hundred people saw your men carry her off. The
Times
knows — whether or not they can prove it is not clear yet — that you’ve ransacked the Academy Club without any warrant and half poisoned several distinguished and contentious members of the New York Bar, but they don’t yet know that you’ve abducted someone and are holding her hostage. But they
will
know unless Alice is out within half an hour. You let her go, and I’ll be reasonable. There are all sorts of things I won’t tell the
Times.
It’s not in my interest to make a fuss either.”

“Halloway, you can’t get away with this. I have all sorts of evidence of what you are.”

“I doubt it. Not evidence that would make anyone believe the story you want to tell about me.”

“And I have tapes of every one of these telephone conversations.”

“I never doubted it. I have some recordings too, by the way. I make them on some tape cassettes I happened to carry away with me from MicroMagnetics. Would you like me to play back the part of this conversation where you make the threats about Alice?’’

There was a silence. I let him think for a while and then followed up.

“Jenkins, I wish you well. The situation is straightforward. You have to let Alice go. If you don’t, you’ll very shortly be in prison or a lunatic asylum— it’s not clear to me which. Maybe the quality of my life will be a little worse too, but it will still be my best choice. Besides the things I know about directly, I’ve found out where you were trained, where you’ve worked, every name you’ve ever used. I’ve also found out some interesting things about people you’ve worked with. I’m ready to give it all to the
Times
to use as they in their wisdom see fit.”

“Halloway, if you destroy me, there will be someone else. People know about you by now. Sooner or later, we’ll get you.”

“Do you have Alice at Thirty-eighth Street?”

Silence.

“I want you to tell her to walk straight up Fifth Avenue. You understand. Against the traffic, to make it a little harder for your people. But I don’t want to see any of your people there. Do you understand? This is best for everyone.”

I waited, but he did not answer.

“Jenkins, I have to hang up. You have her out there within half an hour. I can’t call back and discuss it.”

I
waited for her on a bench in the sixties from which I had a good view of both sides of the avenue and from which, by standing up on the seat, I could also get a good view of anything happening in the park behind me. I had no idea whether they would let Alice go, but I certainly intended to keep turning the screws on Jenkins. When I had waited nervously for forty-five minutes without any sign of Alice or of Jenkins’s men, I found myself considering exactly what information I should turn over to Anne next. Certainly the location of Jenkins’s office. Then I might start implicating other people above Jenkins. That ought to turn them against Jenkins and his project quickly enough.

Probably Jenkins was thinking through exactly the same possibilities.

I got up and walked slowly down Fifth Avenue, watching for her. A woman with blond hair emerged from a cluster of pedestrians several blocks down. No, not Alice. What would she be wearing? Might be anything: Jenkins’s men would have brought some clothes from her apartment. Could she have got past me somehow? Unlikely. How would Jenkins make this decision? As far as I could tell, he did not have to discuss these things or get approval from anyone else. Or probably he did now. Now that the
Times
was on top of him, he was probably discussing everything with his superiors all the time. Best to go back and wait at that same bench. That way I would notice the arrival of any unwelcome people or vehicles. That was the other thing: even if they did let Alice go, I would have no way of knowing whether they were using her to set another trap for me.

I had given Jenkins half an hour, and it was well over an hour now. If he were going to release Alice at all, he would already have done it. Otherwise, he would be running the risk of being too late to stop me from releasing the next piece of damaging information. I had nothing to lose by waiting longer. Give it another fifteen minutes. Even another half hour.

I saw her coming two blocks away, on the park side of the avenue, and I rushed down to meet her. When I was within ten yards of her, I stopped by the park wall and waited for her to come up even with me. She looked dazed, as if she had not slept for a long time. When she was alongside me, I turned and started to walk in parallel with her but several feet away. I could not decide what to say or do.

“Nick?” she said, turning her head.

“Keep walking,” I said softly. “And don’t turn toward me.”

Tears were running down her face.

“Oh, God,” she said.

“Alice, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I got you into all this. What did they do to you?”

“Nothing.” She was shaking her head. “They just asked a lot of questions. Mostly the same questions, over and over. They were so awful at the end.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Everything. I didn’t realize it made any difference. You never told me anything, you idiot.” She started sobbing out loud. “I’m so sorry, Nick. I didn’t know it mattered.”

“It doesn’t matter. But don’t turn toward me. They may be watching, and I don’t want them to know exactly where I am.”

“They’re not here,” she said quite definitely.

“How do you know?”

“They’re all at that
place.
At Thirty-eighth Street. They were all meeting when I left.”

“How many of them?”

“Seven or eight.”

“Seven or eight?”

“Yes. Some more people came this morning. From Washington, I think. Something happened yesterday evening. They started getting phone calls and meeting all the time. They still kept asking me questions off and on all night, but it was as if they weren’t really interested any more. They’re worried about something else.”

“Themselves.”

“Nick, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault they found us, isn’t it? It was that stupid book jacket. I should have told you about it.”

“It doesn’t make any difference.”

“You’re such an idiot. You should have told me everything. Or you should have just left, if that’s what you wanted to do.”

“Based both on generally accepted ethical precepts and on the empirical evidence, you would seem to be right about that.”

“Why couldn’t we have just gone off together?”

“That wouldn’t have been much of a life for you.”

“Idiot. That’s my business.”

“Did they give you any message for me?”

“The one in charge, Jenkins, said to tell you they would get you eventually.”

She was weeping again.

“That was all?” I asked.

“Yes. He said, ‘Tell him we’ll get him, whether it’s me or someone else, eventually we’ll get him.’”

We turned off Fifth and walked into the park. She told me about her interrogation. They had taken turns, all five of them, going through the same questions over and over. Where had Alice met me? When? What did I do all day? Where did I go? What did I wear? What did I eat? Did I ever talk to anyone else?

“At first I thought they were friends of yours. That’s what they kept saying. That they were friends of yours and they were just trying to find you so they could get you the help you needed.”

They told her all about who I was and how I had become invisible.

“They tried to get me to help them catch you, and when I wouldn’t, they began to threaten me. I’m sorry, Nick. I told them everything before I ever realized.”

“It doesn’t matter. They didn’t find out anything they didn’t already know. No, that’s not true. They did find out one thing. The most important thing. They found out about you.”

Alice began to weep again.

“That means we can’t live together anymore, doesn’t it?”

We walked in silence for a while.

“Also there’s one thing they didn’t tell you about me. I kept meaning to tell you myself, but I never quite got to it.”

“Of course not.”

“I keep meaning to mention that I love you.”

“A fat lot of good that does me if you’re just going to sneak off without me.”

“Alice, I’ll do whatever you want, no matter how preposterous. It’s a solemn promise.”

BOOK: Memoirs Of An Invisible Man
13.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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