Jack Womack by Terraplane (epub)

Author:Terraplane (epub)
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-24T00:00:00+00:00

7

“YOU START PISSIN’ BLOOD, WE’LL HAUL YOU OVER TO SYDENHAM,” said Doc, “but I think you’ll be all right.” With a long wrap he’d mummified my abdomen to keep my ribs from floating free. “Lucky he didn’t just kill you.”

“For what purpose?”

“For the hell of it. Gimme a finger. I need fresh blood to do that test.” Compared to earlier pains his pinprick came as kiss. “There. Didn’t hurt a bit, did it?”

“This demonstrates what?” I asked.

“Let me check it out first,” he said. “How’re you going to get word to this fellow if he’s locked up?”

“I doubt he’s locked,” I said. “Probably has the king’s ear in which to shoot lies and nonsense.”

“He sounds like bad medicine to me,” said Doc, “and I ought to know. You don’t think he was arrested for anything? I mean there’s a lot they could’ve gotten you on if they’d wanted to—”

“Unknown,” I said. Having bloodied a glass slide with my extract he lowered above it a clear square; pressed the two into one. “His condition’s unknown, his plot’s unknown. All’s to be done is suspect.”

“You all seem pretty good at that,” said Doc. “What if you can’t get ahold of him anytime soon? Thought of that?”

“Certainly,” I said. “A slim option adheres that Oktobriana’s associate is still viable. He possesses prime essential. If he is, however, he’s in Russia.”

Doc whistled, laying the slide onto a primitive microscope’s rounded glass. “Russia. Damn.” My parents gave me such a beginner’s model when I was nine, when they still hoped to later afford medical school’s unfunded costs. I used it once or twice, never adjusting to blood’s sight until later, in different context. “They’ve tightened up the borders there past few years. They say old Uncle Joe’s got something going on but nobody says what. Probably be easier getting in downtown. Sure be a helluva lot closer.”

“Three weeks ago he arrived here,” I said. “Never returned. I’m doubtful he remains in existence.”

“Maybe he’s just lying low. Pays to over there, I’d think,” said Doc. “You know there’ll be Russian scientists in town all through the next week what with those goings-on at the fair. Maybe one of them knows something, ran into him or something.”

“Doubtful,” I said. “If he’s present, he’s kept covered. We’ve no method of safe contact in any event.”

Doc cranked his scope’s wheels, focusing. “Remember that fellow hollering in the window last night? He works out at the fair. He’s a Red, too. He might be able to dig up some dirt over at the Soviet Pavilion. See if anybody admits to hearing anything. Can’t hurt to ask.”

In some situations it killed to ask. Still, any straw was worth a snatch. “We can contact soon?” I asked.

“He’ll be downstairs again tonight. Comes uptown ever’ weekend. Rabble-rouses over on Lenox during the weekend, during the day, comes listening to jazz at night. We’ll go down there this evening and wait for him. Usually gets there around eight.”

“What’s his role at the fair?”

Taking a

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