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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With the space freaks gone-gone somewhere or other, no one seemed to be
willing to say where-the safe house changed character. The uniformed guards
disappeared. So did most of the interrogators, a fact which carried an
attractive fringe benefit: Now there was less back-and-forth calling between
the safe house and the Bureau headquarters, and so the Starlab people had a
chance at the one secure line.
Dannerman lucked out. He got the first crack at the phone, and the person he
was calling answered on the first ring. "Hello, honey," he said. "Looks like
they're going to let us out of here pretty soon. Any chance of dinner tonight,
maybe-tomorrow at the latest?"
There turned out to be a very good chance. Anita Berman was a forgiving soul,
and besides she had been watching the news like everybody else. "I've really
missed you, Dan," she said, sounding as loving as ever.
"And I've missed you-I can't tell you how much," he said. Meaning it
literally, too; because he was reluctant to say all the things he wanted to
say to her with two of the Pats waiting impatiently for their turn at the
phone.
Anita was saying, "Your voice sounds funny. Is everything all right?" Well, it
undoubtedly did, and so did hers, but he couldn't tell her that it was because
the secure line was chaos-encoded, and then decoded at the Bureau before being
redirected to the open lines to New York. "Look, I
have to get off the phone, but-" He looked over his shoulder, swallowed, said
it anyway: "I love you."
He gave the nearest Pat a belligerent look as he hung up. She didn't return
it. She had clearly been eavesdropping and the look she gave back to him was
actually, well, affectionate; but as she took the phone all she said was,
"Dan-Dan was calling you. It's about this French thing; he's in the library."
So he was, irritably switching channels. He looked up as Danner-man entered.
"What French thing is
Pat talking about?" Dannerman asked.
The President: "The presiding officer of the United Nations Council recognizes
the honorable representative of Democratic Agrarian Albania."
Mr. T. Gabo: "Mr. Presiding Officer, what is the hurry? Why are we rushing to
a judgment in this matter? The so-called Starlab satellite has remained in
orbit for many years now. It will remain for many years more. Why must we
proceed with such reckless haste to authorize a United Nations flight to
secure and exploit this wonderful technological machinery which, we are told,
will revolutionize our science?
"I will answer that question. The haste is due to the desperate hunger a few
large powers have to secure these secrets for their own use, a gain from which
most of our great 188 independent nations will be excluded. I say, go slow! I
say, wait until the vast majority of the world's nations have time to catch
up, so that we may all benefit from this treasure trove. My little country of
Democratic Agrarian Albania is not rich, but we have our pride! And we do not
choose to be excluded from our rightful participation in this endeavor."
-Proceedings of the General Assembly, Vol. XXVII, p 1122
His duplicate jerked a thumb at the screen. "See for yourself." That was how
Dannerman learned about the Eurospace intention. He peered at the news story,
read the French communiqué and then shrugged. "I guess the Bureau isn't going
to like that."
Dannerman-with-a-Beard looked at him. "The Bureau? Is that all you think?"
"Is there something more to think?"
"You just don't get it, do you? You haven't seen the kind of stuff they've got
on Starlab. What if the French let the Scarecrows in again?"
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Dannerman objected, "I thought you smashed the whatever-it-is."
"Sure I did, as much as I could. But what if the French luck out and get it
going again?"
Dannerman confronted his copy amiably. "Too many ifs to worry about right
now," he said. "Anyway, there's nothing you and I can do about it, is there?
And I've got other things on my mind, like getting home."
The other Dannerman sighed, then shrugged. "Which brings us to another
problem," he said. "Whose home are we talking about? Yours or mine?"
That was a stopper. "Oh, right. I didn't think of that. Rita's room isn't
really big enough for the two of us, is it?" Then he brightened. "Anyway," he
said, "I don't think we have to worry about that right now, either, because
for the next couple of nights I hope to be sleeping somewhere else."
"Uh-huh," the other said, and Dannerman was pleased to see that he looked
faintly jealous.
From the door a tentative voice-Pat's voice-said, "Dan-Dan?"
Dannerman turned around, but it was the other one she was talking to. She
looked perturbed.
"Rosaleen's left the hospital in Kiev and they won't tell us where we can call
her. Can you find out?"
"I'll give it a try," he said, and left them together. It took Dannerman a
moment to figure out which Pat it was. They had settled on different-colored
outfits from the safe house's stores to tell them apart: blue for the "real"
Pat, a red shorts suit for Pat One, a sparkly golden sweater for pregnant Pat
Five. This one was wearing a gray tailored jacket-therefore Patrice-and she
was lingering. She seemed to want to say something that embarrassed her.
"What?" he asked encouragingly.
She cleared her throat. "It's just- Dan, listen. If you thought I was coming
on to you- Well, hell, I was coming on to you. Can I explain?"
"You don't have to. He told me."
She bristled. "Oh, really? So what did he tell you exactly? -Well, never mind,
what he said was the truth. When we were all in the deep stuff up there and he
was the only decent human male around-all right, I admit I got a kind of a
crush on him. Well, on you, if you know what I mean, because when I came off
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