“What am I supposed to do with that?” the man asked nervously.
“She’s left the city or moved within it. I have reason to suspect she may not have made the move voluntarily. See if you can find anything, anything under that name involving recent movement, travel, relocation, anything.”
Vargas nodded, bent to his work. Eric watched carefully but could detect nothing unusual in the man’s methodology as he conducted the search. He kept the metal tool pressed against Vargas’s neck.
“Nothing,” he finally announced. “Is she a criminal or something?” Eric didn’t answer.
“Do you have access to travel information through here?”
“Look, I can only access police-related matters.”
“And the police need to know when and where people are going.”
“I’m liable to trip a code accessing an area that’s outside my normal territory.”
“I’ll chance it.”
Vargas shrugged, entered the necessary requests. The word OPEN appeared on the screen. “What now?”
“Check all transport out of Nueva York. Tube, bus, plane, suborbitals, everything.”
“Right.” If she’d been moved via private vehicle, they wouldn’t find a thing, Eric knew. Somewhat to his surprise, the screen lit up with a formal reply.
There it was. “Tambor, Lisa, Luftaire nonstop to London.” There was an outside chance it might refer to a different Lisa Tambor, but the name was sufficiently unusual that he doubted it. Besides, time of departure fit perfectly. So did the mode: first class.
“Now try for a Kemal Tarragon on the same flight.”
This time the query came up empty.
“Try finding him in police banks.”
Again nothing. “Maybe he doesn’t exist,” Vargas ventured hesitantly. “Maybe he’s a figment of your imagination.”
“I wish he was.”
Vargas spoke hopefully. “Is that all? Are you going to leave me alone now?”
“Yes. In just a second or two.” He reached up and around with his free hand. The man hardly had time to gasp as Eric’s fingers moved against his throat.
He struggled, but Eric had struggled with considerably stronger men recently, and Vargas was no match for him. His eyes rolled and he slumped in his seat. He’d be unconscious for maybe twenty minutes, and to any passer-by he’d appear to be sleeping. Twenty minutes would be enough for Eric to clear the building.
Quietly he exited the module, carefully closing the door behind him. No one waited in ambush in the corridor.
When Vargas regained his senses he’d rush to notify security. They should be puzzled. At best they might suspect some stranger would be on his way to London in pursuit of some woman. With luck the badly frightened Vargas would not even remember Lisa’s name.
Of course, Eric would be starting all over again in London, but at least he’d have the right city, and they shouldn’t be expecting him. If he could get out of town fast, he might gain himself a breathing spell. The search for him should remain concentrated in Nueva York.
He moved rapidly through the aisles and did not encounter the elderly supervisor who’d greeted him earlier, for which he was grateful. By now he’d mastered the art of blending in with his surroundings. None of the programmers or processors bothered to look up as he walked by.
The elevator lifted him to the busy main lobby. A few quick strides and he was back out on the streets of the city. It was early morning now and the first day-shifters were striding briskly toward the waiting maws of ranked office buildings.
It was only a few steps to the nearest tube station. As soon as he saw there were no security cops on board his car, he relaxed and snatched a few precious minutes of sleep. The ability to catnap wherever and whenever he chose was something he’d always been thankful for. When the tube deposited him at Long Island Airport half an hour later, he was feeling almost refreshed.
There was a flight departing for London in forty minutes. His credit card set off no alarm when he purchased the ticket. The rest of the time he spent strolling around the airport—visiting a gameroom, watching the opto, sipping a sloe gin, and concluding with a fast breakfast. He looked forward to another, longer nap once safely aboard his plane.
The stewardess was bright, young, and professional. She inquired after his needs and he waved her away with a smile. All he wanted now was more sleep.
The thunder of engines was briefly loud as they lifted the flying wing off the runway and out over the Atlantic. In a little while they’d climbed above slower commercial traffic. He had a quick glimpse of a cruise dirigible idly working its way up the New England coast, the bright stripes and patterns on its curved sides duplicating an ancient Picasso. Ten minutes later they’d reached upper stratospheric cruising altitude and the ramjets took over, boosting speed to Mach 5.
He closed his eyes and snuggled down into the soft seat. Soon they’d be in London. He’d have to find a room and begin working on a way to track down Lisa and her captors in a city as big as Nueva York.
He was quietly confident that he could do so. The thought of locating one person in a city of twenty million no longer seemed daunting. At least he’d left Tarragon and his minions far behind. They could comb Nueva York for months without learning that he’d fled.
Eventually they would trace his credit card to the ticket purchase. By that time he hoped to have Lisa spirited away. It was a gratifying romantic vision and helped to put him to sleep.
XIII
Isabel Jordan hurried to catch up to Oristano.
“What’s the reason for this meeting, Martin? Pulling us away from our work in the middle of the day.”
“Not my doing,” he told her. “Blame the machine.” As they made their way in tandem toward the conference room, she noticed the rest of the staff gathering.
“All twelve of us. Don’t you think it’s a little extreme?”
“The circumstances are extreme.” Oristano rubbed at his eyes. He was very tired and missed Martha very much. Several weeks had passed since he’d been outside the mountain, and he longed for the sight of cold lakes and fresh snow.
“You don’t know what it’s going to say?”
