The Intervention Omnibus by Julian May

Author:Julian May [May, Julian]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-12-06T14:33:00+00:00

19

FROM THE MEMOIRS OF ROGATIEN REMILLARD

WHEN THE LIVE telecast from Edinburgh ended at 7:00 A. M. Eastern Time I was in a state of near-mortal funk. I downed a neat tumblerful of Canadian Club sitting there in my armchair in front of the blank television screen while my brain kept replaying that scene of the crazed Swiss photographer screeching his Cassandra warning as the Scottish police hauled him away.

Pandora’s box! Oh, yes, indeed. It was opening wide to an amazed and fascinated world, and what was inside was us.

I had to call Denis. I told myself it was to find out what plans he and his people had. On my first three tries, his home phone was busy; then I only got his answering machine. I called the lab and reached Glenn Dalembert, who had come in early to make a videotape of the Scottish demonstration.

“Yeah, I got detailed for the scut-work while everybody else watched the big show in comfort at home. This afternoon we’ll do a replay for the full Medical School faculty, together with learned commentary by yours truly and homegrown EE talent displays by Colette and Tucker. With Denis gone, I’ll be in charge. Want a freebie ticket?”

“Denis has gone where?” I demanded.

“Down to West Lebanon. They’re sending an Air Force chopper to shuttle him to Burlington International where the Washington flight will be held for him—”

I cut Glenn off. “They? D’you mean those Mind Wars bastards roped Denis in after all?”

My nephew’s associate gave a strained laugh. “Oh, no. Nothing so picayune as the Army or the CIA this time. The President himself called Denis at home right after the telecast. Seems he read the book and was very impressed, and now he’s pegged Denis as the guy most likely to give him the straight poop about the authenticity of MacGregor’s blockbuster.”

“Oh, shit,” I groaned. My nephew—the Kissinger of metapsychic realpolitik! He would be asked to help recruit American operants for MacGregor’s noble scheme. He would certainly reveal his own operancy. Or would he?

Glenn had turned solicitous. “Roger, is there something wrong?”

“Everything’s wrong.”

“Listen—come to the faculty meeting and we’ll talk. Better yet, join Colette and me for lunch—”

“No thanks. You folks have a good time at the show-and-tell. I’ll be just fine.” I hung up, then took the phone off the hook.

Denis. He was the only one who could help. I could try to reach him at the airport by telephone… but that was no good. I wouldn’t be able to say what was wrong…

Farspeak him, then. Make the appeal mind-to-mind.

I slouched over to the bedroom window and stood there in my pajamas and grubby old terry-cloth robe trying to marshal my booze-addled wits. It was not going to be easy to attract Denis’s attention with the all-important telepathic “hail.” My mind was weakened and Denis would surely be preoccupied with the enormity of MacGregor’s gamble and by the upcoming Oval Office meeting. Furthermore, the bulk of Crafts Hill lay between me and the West Lebanon Regional Airport, four miles south of Hanover.

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