The Land Across (21 page)

Or else it would grab the bedspread where it hung down and pull itself up. Then it would crawl really quietly, crawling up toward me until it could grab my neck.

Second, I was scared about the gun. I was not afraid Naala would panic and shoot me. I was pretty sure that was not going to happen. I was afraid I would sneak it out from under her pillow and shoot her.

Then I would be on the loose, with no way out, a gun, and no place to hide. I could see how that might start looking like a swell idea when I got sleepy. That was one thing. The other one was that I do not trust myself when I have had much of anything to drink. Generally two beers are my limit for the night, especially if I am going to have to drive, which I generally do. That night I had drunk two stiff shots of some dark stuff that was probably local whiskey. It tasted so bad it had been hard not to gag, and the first one just about knocked my head off. I felt like I was falling-down drunk and might do anything. Pretty soon I got up and puked in the bathroom.

The funny thing was it made me feel better. I was still drunk, but I knew I was and knew I was getting over it. Also I got some ice out of the refrigerator and made ice water. I must have done for five or six glasses of that, just sitting at the little table, staring at the door, and sipping water.

I was thinking about the hand. What I had told Naala was bullshit, and I knew it. It was a hand, and it was still alive. It did not matter how it was done, that was the fact. If it had gotten out of the apartment, how had it done it? If it had not, where was it? Those questions went round and round in my head, and I kept telling myself that if I thought of a way it could have gotten out, or a place where it could be hiding, I would go and look there.

Only I never had to stand up.

There was only one door, and it was bolted on the inside. Maybe the hand could have climbed up and unbolted it. Maybe it could have turned the doorknob somehow. But how the heck could it have bolted that door again after it went out?

And I had looked everywhere. In the fridge. In the stove. In every closet. In the bedclothes on both beds. Under both beds. I had even looked in the flush tanks of the toilets, and eventually I went back to bed.

Next morning Naala did not want to talk about it. That was fine with me, because I had a headache and knew I did not have anything useful to say. So instead of that we argued about what I was going to wear. She wanted me to put on the wool sport jacket, which I knew was going to be too warm. Eventually we went out for breakfast, and I said maybe it would be better to pick up Rosalee first so she could eat breakfast with us. Naala said no and it was her money, so we did not.

On the way to the prison I had another brainstorm. I said how about this? What we really need is to know who Russ’s other customers here were. So we send somebody to America. He contacts the new owners and finds out. I am here, I am American, I know the case, and I knew Russ, so I would be the perfect person.

I saw that one go down the drain before I had even gotten through speaking. I will not tell you what she said.

After that I had another idea. I would go to the American embassy and talk them into finding that stuff out for us through the Department of Commerce. But I knew if I sprung that idea on Naala right after my last one, it would be a goner, too. So I did not.

At the prison, people were running around every which way yelling at each other. Nobody would talk to us, JAKA or no JAKA, except to tell us we would have to talk to the warden. She was not in her office, and nobody seemed to know where she was. Pretty soon I could see we were not going to get anything out of them and started keeping an eye out for a prisoner who looked familiar, one of the women I had seen working in that barn where Rosalee had been cutting cloth.

I did not see anybody, but I saw something I thought might be almost as good, Building 124. The number was painted on the side, and they use Arabic numbers just like we do. I touched Naala and pointed. She took a minute to think about it before she nodded, but she did.

Inside it looked a lot different, because it had been empty before but the women were in there now, each standing at the foot of her bed. I remembered where Rosalee’s was and went to it. She was not there, and it seemed to be the only bed in the whole place that did not have a woman waiting at the foot. Naala buttonholed a little woman at the bed next to it and flashed her badge.

“I do not know, operator. I do not know anything about Madame Rathaus.”

“Are you telling us you never spoke to her?”

“I could not, operator. She did not speak as we speak, operator. She was of Amerika.”

“I have talked with her! You, also, have talked with her. Tell me!”

“Only a little, operator. We speak of the weather, of which guards are most cruel.”

“We will return to that. The Rathaus woman slept here last night?”

“Last night yes, operator. This morning no.”

“When you woke she was gone?”

“When we went outside, operator.” The little woman was almost whispering. “We must stand in lines, each in our places, operator. Her place was empty, operator.”

“But she was here when you woke up?”

“I am unsure, operator.”

I was listening in, and I noticed a tall dark woman listening in, too. She looked like she wanted to talk, so I went over to her and asked if she had seen Rosalee this morning.

“I see she is missing, operator. So did that fool, but she will not say it out of fear. When Madame Rathaus goes, I do not know. She goes in the night while I slept.”

Here you will think I had bathrooms on the brain, but I started looking around for theirs. Building 124 had been a private house once, so the bathroom was not hard to find. Most of the windows in the whole place were open, and the one in the bathroom was no different. Wide open, and plenty big enough for a slender girl like Rosalee to crawl out of. I could have gotten through it myself.

By the time I got back to Naala, she was finished with the little woman and was questioning another woman. I took her aside and said, “Hey, it was easy. These ladies have got to get up during the night sometimes just like other people. So Rosalee gets up and goes to the bathroom and out the window. I’ll show you.”

Naala shook her head. “You, I believe. Do they sleep in their clothes?”

I did not know, so we asked around. Most of them did. They had a few little personal things, like letters from outside or maybe their baby’s picture in a locket, and they were afraid they would be stolen. Also some women whose prison grays did not fit so good might want to trade. That happened, too, they said.

“She did not have to dress to escape,” Naala murmured. She looked thoughtful, so I kept quiet while we left the prison. Pretty soon she got on one of the police phones and had a long talk with JAKA headquarters.

14

FINDING ROSALEE

When she hung up, she smiled. “They blame me, as is only nature. I have show them nothing could be more useful for us.”

I was thoughtful all the way back inside the prison and into the warden’s office.

By that time she was sitting behind her desk again, writing something. Naala sat down without being asked, so I did, too. We did not talk, just waited until the warden stopped writing and looked around. “I do not recall that I wished to speak to you.”

Naala said, “Clearly because you had nothing to tell us and nothing to ask us. With us it is otherwise. We have things to tell and ask. I have an office myself. It is in our Central Building. Perhaps you are aware of our Central Building?”

The warden just looked at her.

“With a few words I could have you brought to me there. When we were finished, perhaps you would return here. I cannot say.”

The warden had no answer.

Naala gave her plenty of time before she said, “Let us first be clear. The Rathaus woman was in my custody all day yesterday. She does not escape. She is return to your custody in the evening. She escapes in the night. Now you compose a report about this? So I think. A press of the button will submit this report, but you may wish to revise it before you send.”

“The question, operator, is whether there is reason to revise.” The warden sounded scared.

“A question you must answer. For your assistance I tell you this. We of the JAKA are happy with what we have achieved.”

“Achieved? I wish to laugh, though an escape is not a thing to laugh at.”

“When I return the Rathaus woman to your custody, she is in a dress I buy for her, a dress of red and white. Why do you not require her to resume the gray uniform of those in your custody?”

“We did!” The warden jumped up. “Your dress we tear from her back! You have keep the uniform she wore! We are forced to supply another!”

“It fit her well, I hope.” Naala was smiling. “This is in your report? The new uniform?”

“Yes!”

“That is good. Already two men and two women visit dress shops. Before the shops close they will have visited every shop in the city that sells such clothes. They ask about a man who come to buy for a slender woman, or a woman as it may be who buys clothes she does not try on, clothes too small. This may be fruitful. You have find how she passes over the wire?”

The warden shook her head.

“She has not. So it may be. She has gone out a gate. You have very many?”

“Only one, operator.”

Naala jumped up. “You lie to me! For this alone—” She stopped and laughed, and I about fell off my chair. “You will pay, warden.” Naala was finished laughing. “Never think you will not. How much you pay, I do not know.”

“Please, operator…”

Naala sat again. “It is too late for ‘please’ and you are a fool. The gate in front is narrow and well guarded. Yesterday I go to the place where the Rathaus women work. They make uniforms, and there is a wagon and a truck, a wagon to bring more cloth, more thread. I see the boxes on it. Also the army truck. It will be to take away the uniforms, I think. These must come in here, and go out, too. So a wider gate there must be.”

The warden hated doing it, but she nodded.

“How did the Rathaus woman escape? You do not know. No more do I, but I will guess. It is not single shifts that work making army clothes. No. Your prisoners tell me this. When the day workers stop the work, the night workers begin it. In this way the machines are keep busy. The Rathaus woman know boxes will be loaded on the army truck. Those who will load them are her friends. They will make a small space for her among the boxes. The truck must go slowly along the city streets. She move the boxes and jump off. This I cannot prove. Not yet.”

Naala paused for another smile. “When her we catch, she will tell us.”

After we got out of there I thought Naala would call for another police car, but we walked. “You will have the big questions for me,” she said.

I told her she was dead on about that.

“We must think and think, you and I. We will find a café. There will be coffee for us. Rolls also if you wish them. You will have questions for me, and I a task for you. Are you to be trusted?”

Of course I said I was.

“I think yes and that is well. What do you think of Papa Iason? Is he, too, to be trusted?”

I said he had not told us everything.

“Not by us. No. By his father.”

“You mean Russ. The other one’s dead.”

“Yes, by Rathaus, his true father. He can trust him, do you think?”

“I’ll have to think that one over,” I said.

Naala gave me the mean grin. “This you must do as we walk, Grafton. When we are seated, you must tell me. Not yes only, or no. Explain.”

There were plenty of cafés as soon as we got into a better part of town. Naala liked the fifth one (I think it was) and we sat down at an outside table with a shiny pink umbrella. I asked if she wanted my answer.

She smiled. “You are sure of it?”

“Stone certain. First, Papa Iason is religious. Not just because he’s a priest but because he never once griped about it. So religious, and the Bible says to honor your father and mother. So I say, yes, if he knows Russ is his real father, Russ could trust him.”

“Does he know? What is it you think?”

“We haven’t got any way to tell.”

“Then we must guess. He looks at the picture of Rathaus and says it is an ordinary face. Possibly you recall this?”

“But it meant something to him. I could see that.”

“Three years ago Rathaus comes here. This the shopman tells. Why?”

I said, “Beats me.”

“You are familiar with our identity cards?”

“No. I’ve never had one.”

“There is on each card the date of issuance. This is for my JAKA and the police. If a woman has held her card twenty years, her face will have changed in certain ways. A man the same. Information is like bread. If it is not eaten it grow stale. So we must know. Papa’s card is of three years.”

“O-o-o-kay.” I was trying to think what it might mean.

“Does his son get a new card because he comes?”

“I don’t see why he would.”

“He does not. He get a new card because he is become a priest. He is ordained. For a priest, this is a great, great thing. His father learn of it, I think. How I do not know, but there may be many ways. Perhaps the mother tell him. Perhaps Papa Iason himself tell, or someone at the seminary. It does not matter. He learns, and comes to see his son ordained. He will shake his hand and give him some money it may be. He does not tell, the mother does not tell, Papa does not tell. He is a friend from the old years, they say. Or the son of the mother’s aunt who is dead. Whatever. But they know. Rathaus knows, the mother knows, and Papa Iason knows. Those three are sure. If you do not agree, I do not care. I too am sure.” Naala sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim of her cup.

I told her, “I’m not as sure as you are, but you’re probably right.”

“This I think. There is a cult, the Unholy Way. They make dark magic. Rumors have reach the JAKA long ago, and yesterday the archbishop tells us.”

I nodded.

“Rathaus makes the magic dolls. They have taken him. You agree?”

I shook my head.