The Road to Amber (48 page)

“‘Of course,’ I said.

“‘When did you leave?’

‘“1944,’ I replied. ‘Spent some time in Argentina. Came here later under the Project Paper Clip dispensation.’

“He raised his drink and took a swallow.

“‘Yes, I’ve heard of it,’ he said. ‘Governments can be gracious—when they want something.’

“He laughed. I joined him.

“‘Fortunately, there was no need for me to employ such a route,’ he went on. ‘Some of the past died with the bombings and the records they destroyed, as I understand it.’

“He took another drink.

“‘You are staying here at the hotel?’ he asked.

“‘Yes.’

“‘We should have dinner together. Would you care to meet in the lobby—say, seven o’clock?’

“‘That would be pleasant,’ I replied.

“He began to rise, just as the waitress arrived with four desserts and my check. I picked up the check and glanced at it.

“‘May I sign for this?’ I asked her.

“‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Be sure to put down your room number.’

“‘That would be 208,’ I said, accepting the pen she offered me.

“Rudo froze, looking back, studying my face.

“‘Croyd…?’ he said.

“I smiled.

“His face went through an amazing variety of changes, finally settling into a scowl. Then he seated himself and leaned forward.

“‘That—was—not—funny,’ he told me. ‘I—do—not—appreciate—such—monkeyshining.’

“‘When you get a chance like this every time you wake up, you might as well play it for a few laughs,’ I said.

“‘I am not amused.’

“‘Sorry,’ I said, as I attacked the flan. ‘Just wanted to brighten our day.’

“He succeeded in convincing me that he had no sense of humor. But after a few minutes he was mollified, watching me eat desserts.

“‘I have located the office where we must obtain visitors’ passes,’ he finally said, ‘for our trip to Los Alamos. It is nearby. Our names should be on the list of expected visitors. Photographs will be required. We should stop by this afternoon and take care of that.’

“‘Yes,’ I said. ‘How’d they get on the list?’

“‘Our man in Los Alamos sent down word that we were coming to visit him.’

“‘Handy,’ I said. ‘How long have we been in town?’

“‘Here? This is our fifth day. I included instructions when I induced the
dauerschlaf
that you sleep for as short a time as possible. You were out for several days in my apartment and several more in transit.’

“I nodded as I gestured at the stack of newspapers.

“‘I’d noticed the date,’ I said. ‘How far is it to Los Alamos?’

“‘It is about thirty-five or forty miles north ofhere,’ he replied, ‘in the mountains. I’ve obtained a car.’

“We strolled outside after lunch, and he steered me to the left. The area that had struck me as parklike proved to be the Plaza. We passed around it in a clockwise fashion, stopping to study the work displayed on blankets by Indian craftsmen under the portal of the Palace of the Governors. Lots of silver and turquoise and some pretty pots. I bought a bola Rudo didn’t like and wore it.

“He led me then to a one-story building nearby, where we entered through a small doorway. We came into a little suite of rooms where a woman sat at a desk.

“‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I am Ivan Karamazov and this is Croyd Crenson. We were told to come here to pick up our visitors’ passes for Los Alamos.’

“‘Let me check the list,’ she said, and she opened a drawer and withdrew a clipboard holding a stack of papers. She hummed as she checked through these. Then, ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I have you here.’

“She passed us some forms to fill out and told us we’d need to have our pictures taken after that. She told us the passes would be ready later in the day, or we could pick them up in the morning, since we’d said we’d be driving up the next day. We thanked her and departed.

“We walked around for a couple ofhours after that, then went for a drive. Rugged, bright country. Lots of little pine trees. Big mountains. Small town. Quiet. I kind of liked the place. Wouldn’t have minded spending a few weeks there.

“When it got dark we returned to the hotel and ate a big, leisurely meal, with several bottles of wine. In the dining room this time. We went back to the room afterwards and talked a while longer. Then Rudo stifled a few yawns, said something about the altitude, and decided to go to bed. I went out and spent the night walking, about the town and into the country. There’s something about walking at night, when things are slow and quiet, that I’ve always enjoyed.

“And this place was very quiet, and very dark, once I got out from town. Sitting on a hillside later and listening to the insects and looking at the stars, I realized that I was really happy. I didn’t have to do drugs anymore, I wasn’t afraid of sleeping and waking up in God knows what shape, and pretty soon I’d be able to pass for normal. I felt like I wanted to sing or something, but I didn’t. I just sat there and watched the night and listened to it and felt good.

“In the morning I walked back and paced the streets again and watched the town wake up. The first place I saw that opened I went in and had breakfast. Then I went back to the hotel and waited for Rudo to wake up. When he had, and had gotten himself into shape, we went downstairs and ate. We took our time over coffee, and I had a few more snacks, while we waited for the office to open for our visitors’ passes.

“After we picked up the papers we headed for the car. Rudo drove, taking us over to the Taos Highway and following it northward, in the direction of the Espanola Valley. Somewhere along the way we passed a big rock off to the left shaped like a camel. The sun was very bright, and there were mountains to the left of us and mountains to the right. After a long while, Rudo found us a road which went off to the left, switching its way back and forth upward among orange cliffs. We went higher and higher, and there was no guard rail. The views became spectacular, the drop frightening. There were more pine trees, and big boulders, and orange buttes. At least, Rudo seemed a careful driver.

“After a long while, things leveled off and we continued on a level plane. A little later, we saw a military gate in a barbed wire fence blocking the road, a tank parked on either side of it. We slowed and came to a halt before it. One of the guards approached us, and we presented him with our passes. He checked to be sure that we matched the photos. When he was satisfied, he opened the gate and had us drive through and park. Then he placed a phone call and told us that our party would be down to meet us shortly.

“We waited, and about ten minutes later a car came down the road. It pulled up near us and parked. Its driver got out and came around to greet Rudo, calling him ‘Karamazov’ as they shook hands. He was a tall, pale, blond fellow. Named Scott Swensen. He clapped me on the shoulder when we were introduced, and he suggested that I ride with him and Rudo follow us in our car to the lodge.

“As we drove into the town we passed a small airport to the right. Scott gestured to the left about then and said, ‘Look over there.’

“I did, and across a canyon, on a mesa, I saw a collection of green wooden shacks enclosed by a barbed wire fence. There were several armed guards at the fence’s gate. Ahead, I could see where the canyon ended and one could reach the place on level land.

“‘Unimpressive bit of local architecture,’ Scott said, ‘eh?’

“I shrugged.

“‘Whatever gets the job done, I guess,’ I replied.

“‘Right,’ he answered. ‘Exactly right. What you are looking at there is the DP Site.’

“‘Please translate,’ I said.

“‘Stands for deuterium and plutonium,” he answered. ‘They use the one to derive the other. They do it in there. It’s the plutonium you’re interested in, I understand. Hard to come by.’

“‘What’s it look like?’ I asked. ‘Big bars? Chunks of coal?’

“‘Naw,’ he said, chuckling. ‘They can only process it in minuscule quantities—a few drops in the bottom of a vial. You could pick up one of those little gray containers and stick it in your pocket—almost.’

“‘You make it sound easy,’ I said.

“He laughed.

“‘I understand you’re strong as all shit,’ he said, ‘the kind of guy who might be able to tear his way through that barbed wire fence, overpower the guards, kick his way into the storage building and help himself to a couple of plutonium containers.’

“‘Funny, I was just thinking about that.’

“‘Wouldn’t work,’ he said. ‘You might be able to do all of that, but you’d never get away with it. You’d be stopped at the gate if you went that way. And the part of this town that doesn’t have a fence abuts a wilderness. They’ve got mounted patrols back there with dogs. But say you got past, either way. You’d still be a hell of a distance from anything that could take you far enough away, fast enough. A massive manhunt would be mobilized very quickly. But this time it wouldn’t just be a few guards. There’d be aerial surveillance as well as ground-level parties. You’d be up against squads and squads of trained men with heavy firepower. Even if you won a skirmish or two, you’d never make it. You probably would make headlines all over the world, though.’

“‘I understand that they take this stuff seriously,’ I said. ‘But I won’t be overpowering anybody, and I won’t be leaving here with anything I didn’t come in with.’

“‘You’ve found a better way to go about it?’

“‘I intend to.’

“‘Well, I’m Security, and I don’t see one.’

“‘Just get me to the Lodge. I’ll take care of the rest.’

“‘And leave in the morning without it and figure a way to come back for it later?’

“‘More or less.’

“He laughed again and clapped me on the shoulder.

“‘You know, I admire that,’ he said, ‘and I’m real curious what you’ll work out to try.’

“For all I knew, Swensen could be playing a game with Rudo, having conned him into bringing in an ace burglar to test the Security apparatus. I’d no idea how deep their relationship might run. And even if he was on our side, the fewer people who know your business the better. Suddenly, I wondered what the repercussions on aces and jokers might be if I were to mess it up and get caught. It occurred to me suddenly that it could be major.

“I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“‘You’ll find out afterwards,’ I said.

“We arrived at Fuller Lodge a little later. Rudo pulled into the parking space beside us.

“‘I’ll go inside with you,’ Scott said, ‘see you checked in.’

“‘Thanks,’ I told him, and we got out of the cars. ‘You going to join us for lunch?’ I asked then.

“‘I’ve already eaten,’ he replied, ‘and I’ve got to get back to work. Tell you what. I’ll come by around six-thirty and have dinner with you.’

“‘Sounds good to me,’ I said, and Rudo nodded.

“We began walking toward the Lodge.

“‘Are there any restrictions if I just want to take a walk?’ I asked.

“‘No,’ he answered, ‘and you’ve got passes giving you a right to be here. Walk around. Go anywhere you want. If you get too near something that’s off-limits, someone will just tell you. Oh, and don’t take any pictures.’

“‘Didn’t even bring a camera,’ I said. ‘But tell me, how would the people at an off-limits place know that I wasn’t supposed to be there?’

“‘You need an access badge to enter secure facilities,’ he said. ‘If I were to get you one, it would be too easy to trace back to me. Sorry. My hands have to stay clean. I can’t afford to leave any tracks on this matter.’

“‘No problem,’ I told him.

“We entered, got checked in, and he bade us good afternoon. We went to our room then and washed up. Afterwards, we headed for the dining room for our late lunch.

“On the dining room wall, to the side ofthe archway, was a framed newspaper clipping with a photo. Curious, I wandered over and read it after I’d ordered.

“The photo was of a man, a scientist, named Klaus Fuchs, who had once worked here. The story, which I remembered from the previous year, told how Fuchs had given key hydrogen bomb secrets to a Soviet agent—‘in the interest of world peace,’ as Fuchs had put it—the actual communication of this information having taken place on the Castillo Street Bridge in Santa Fe, over which I’d passed the previous night when walking out Canyon Road way. I remembered the story as I read it. At the bottom of the piece, in red ballpoint, was written, ‘Security is Everybody’s Business,’ and it was signed by Scott Swensen. I tried to figure how observation of that injunction could have stopped Mr. Fuchs, but I failed. Could I get this sort of press, I wondered, and be hung here?

“After a comprehensive lunch I stretched and told Rudo, ‘I think I’ll take a walk now.’

“‘I’ll join you,’ he said.

“‘You don’t really want to,’ I said, exerting my new Power for the first time. ‘What you really want is to take a nap, since you’ve gotten so sleepy.’

“Immediately, he began to yawn.

“‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I am tired. What I really want is to go back to the room and stretch out and go to sleep.’

“‘Do it, then,’ I told him. ‘Do it now.’

“He got to his feet. ‘Have a good walk,’ he said, and he departed the dining room.

“After I’d settled up, I stepped outside and sniffed the air. A great day for walking. I headed back down Jemez Road in the direction from which we had come.

“When I came to the place where the shoulder of land continued out past the end of the canyon and led to the gate of the DP Site, I took that route. As I approached the gate two armed guards approached it from the other side.

“‘Hey, buddy,’ one of them called out. ‘This place is off-limits unless you’re authorized personnel.’

“‘I
am
authorized personnel,’ I told him. ‘I’m a general—three stars. You can see them now. You can also see my badge and my pass. I’m here to make a special inspection. You want to open the gate for me so I can do that.’

“‘Just a minute, sir,’ the nearer one said. ‘Sorry I didn’t recognize you. That bright sunlight at your back…’

“He hurried to unlock the gate.

“As I entered, he said, ‘The sign-in sheet’s in the first building, sir.’

“‘Take me there.’

“I followed him inside and glanced at the form he placed on a desk before me. For a moment, I was tempted to sign Swensen’s name. But I didn’t want to get the man in trouble just to be cute. I touched the pen to the form and handed it back to the guard.