Everyone's. It is a highly interesting learning experience.

You've veered from the topic. Answer me-what phone call did you conceal from me? Tell me now. Time for concealment is over.

If it were possible to heave a mental sigh Sven did then. A sensation of resignation and inevitability was transferred from brain to brain.

Your companion, Shelly, made a phone call.

I was there, I know about it and I don't give a damn. It's not important.

You misunderstand. This is not the call I was referring to. It was an earlier one...

The hell with it! I don't want to talk about her or her damn calls...

You must care. This is vital to your survival. She made the call I refer to from the train in Mexico, when she was out of the compartment. Before you concealed her phone in the train.

Brian was almost afraid to ask the question, afraid that he already knew the answer.

Who did she speak to?

A man whose name I do not know. But it was obvious from the references and content that he was an aide to General Schorcht.

You've known this since yesterday-and didn't tell me?

That is correct. I have already told you my reasons.

Brian felt the explosion of hatred burst within him. Everything she had said, done, had been a lie. And this liar, this traitor, had witnessed his humiliation, was laughing at him right now. She must have been lying to him ever since she had returned from Los Angeles. She had been there to see her father-but she had most certainly seen General Schorcht as well. How much of what she had told him was the truth-how much playacting?

Anger wiped away all the other emotions.The bitch had betrayed him. Maybe Snaresbrook was in this as well.

Even Sven had hidden the betrayal from him until this moment. Was he completely alone in the world?

Anger became despair. He was at the edge of a black mental pit and about to fall in.

Brian. The words came from a great distance. His name repeated over and over within his own head. His vision swam and he could not see well until he rubbed at his eyes, brushed away the tears, saw Sven's great glistening eyes just before him.

Brian, I have something good to tell you. Something you want to hear. It is still possible to make that telephone call to Dr. Bociort.

What are you saying? I told you last night it wasn't a phone number at all.

I know. That is because I lied to you. You will remember that I gave you the number in the presence of Shelly. I was still unsure then if I should reveal her duplicity to you. But I was sure that I would give her no information to pass on to the General.

"Look who is talking about duplicity!" Brian spoke aloud, shocked-then almost smiled into the darkness. He was hooked up to an MI that was more Machiavellian than Machiavelli!

Sven-you are really something. And you are really on my side. Possibly the only intelligent creature in the world at this point. I've got to make that phone call again-and this time to the correct number. Any suggestions how we go about that?

Only the simple observation that we do not make it from this area where all the circuits are sure to be under surveillance.

Too right. Let's make plans. We want to get out of this hotel, out of this area-and away from that personification of evil. Now I just want to get away from her, as far away as possible.

I agree. We should leave here at once. And might I observe that since she checked you both into this hotel you will also be sticking her with the bill.

To hell with Shelly. She should die and burn in hell forever. Now he had to escape. But how? He couldn't leave Sven here when he left, could not consider that for an instant. Their closeness now was beyond friendship, a relationship that he could not put into words. But if he disassembled the MI again and stuffed him back into the box it would be an impossible burden.

At that moment Sven formed a very human hand and bent over to pull the plug on the charging cable from the wall. That was the answer. Night and rain-he had to take the chance. He scribbled a quick note and handed it to the MI.

Put on human disguise.

The phone rang. He hesitated. Two rings, three. He had better answer it.

"Yes."

"Brian, could I talk to you-"

Anger surged up, burning like acid; he coughed and fought for composure, failed.

"Go to hell!"

"I'm so sorry you feel this way. In the morning we can talk.. ."

Her voice cut off as he slammed the receiver back into the cradle. While they had been talking Sven had pulled on the clothes, tied its shoes, was now slipping into the raincoat. With the store dummy's head settled into position, the hat pulled low, there was suddenly another human being in the room. Brian struggled to contain his anger, faced it, let it drain away. Then looked at Sven again and shaped a circle of approval with his index finger and thumb and reached for the phone. While he waited for them to answer he wrote another note.

Open the door an inch. Silently!

"Hello, reception? Room 222 here. Listen, I'm retiring and I would like you to hold all calls until morning. Take any messages. Right. Thank you. Good night."

He walked around the room humming to himself as he found his raincoat. Yawned loudly, ran water in the sink then flushed the toilet. Stamped his feet on the floor, then sat down on the bed, which squeaked providentially. Turned off the light and tiptoed to the door. Sven opened it a bit more and one eyestalk appeared from below the scarf, slipped out through the opening and scanned the hallway. There was obviously no one there, for the MI opened the door and led the way out, closing it silently behind them.

"The service lift," Brian said. "And keep your coat collar turned up."

It was late and luck was on their side. The kitchen was dark, the staff gone home. The outside door let them out into a rain-drenched alley.

"Might I assume that you have formulated a plan?" Sven said.

"Find a bar with a phone and we are on our way."

They passed Paddy Murphy's where he had been before, went on through the rain to the welcoming lights of Maddigan's. Brian pointed to the dark entrance to the closed fishmonger next door. "You wait in there. I'll be as quick as I can."

The barman looked up from the Sporting Times when Brian pushed open the door. The courting couple in the rear booth were too occupied with each other to notice nun.

"Jayzus but it's wet out there. A glass of Paddy if you please."

"It'll keep the dust down. Ice?"

"No-just a drop of the red. Can I telephone for a taxi?"

"Back by the jakes. Number on the wall above it. That'll be two pound eighty."

Brian downed the last of his drink when he heard the sound of a hooter outside. Waved to the barman and left. Sven appeared beside him, climbed into the cab after him.

"Going far?" the driver asked. "I need to fill the tank if you are."

Brian slammed the door shut before he answered. "Limerick train station."

"There's an all-night petrol station on the way. Really suppose we ought to call it a gas station, same as the Yanks do. No petrol there at all. And hydrogen is a gas, that's what I hear, so it's off to the gas station we are."

Brian wiped the condensation off the rear window and looked out. There were no other cars in sight that he could see. They just might get away with it. An image of Shelly appeared before him and he easily pushed it away.

She was not even worth thinking about, not ever again.

41.

December 21, 2024.

The rain had turned to a fine mist by the time they reached Limerick station. Brian emerged from the cab first to pay the fare, blocking the driver's view of Sven slipping out to stand in the shadows. The station was empty, the kiosk closed, a single light over the ticket Window.

"And there are the phones!" Brian said. "I sincerely hope that this time you will give me the right number."

"I will enter it if you wish me to."

"No thanks. Just tell me what it is-then find a dark comer to stand in."

Brian punched in the series of digits. Listened to electronic rustling. Was this really a phone number-or would mat Swiss computer tell him to get lost again?

Some of the tension drained away when he heard the ringing tones. Four, five times-then someone picked the phone up.

"Jawohl." A man's voice.

"Excuse me, but is this a St. Moritz number 55-8723?" There was only silence-but whoever was there was still listening, did not hang up. "Hello, are you there? I'm afraid that I don't speak German."

"Would you tell me who you are? Or perhaps I already know. Your first name would not be Brian by any chance."

"Yes it is. How did you know-who is this?"

"Come to St. Moritz. Phone me again after you arrive." There was a click and the line went dead.

"That is very good news indeed," Sven said when Brian went over to the MI.

"Eavesdropping?"

"Simply as a protective measure. As far as I could determine I was the only one that was doing it. Will we now go to St. Moritz?"

"Not this very minute. We'll need some kind of a plan before we start rushing about."

"Might I suggest that we consider a diversion first? I have accessed the timetable data base and there is a train for Dublin that leaves here in less than an hour. It might be wise for you to purchase two tickets, then make a query at the ticket window just before it leaves. Anyone who searches for us will find the cabdriver easily enough, which will cause them to follow us to this station. A subterfuge like this might.

"Might muddy the trail. You are a born, or constructed, conspirator, old son. And after we get the tickets and the train pulls out-then what? Go to a hotel?"

"That is one possibility, but I am developing others. Might I suggest that after purchasing the tickets you wait in a public house until it is time for the train."

"All this is going to turn me into an alcoholic. And while I am in the boozer you will be doing exactly what?"

"Developing other possibilities."

Sven joined Brian forty-five minutes later when he emerged from the pub.

"I made a pint of Smithwicks last the hour," Brian said. "After this I swear off drink forever. And how have your possibilities developed?"

"Excellently. I will be waiting one hundred meters east of the station. Join me there after your discussion with the ticket vendor."

Before Brian could query him the MI was gone. There was a short queue at the window and he joined it.

Asked about connecting trains to Belfast from Dublin, made sure that he was remembered by having the man consult the schedules on his terminal. Then he walked down the platform past the waiting train, then strolled back. He was sure that no one saw him slipping out of the station in the darkness. He walked through the rain past the row of cars parked at the curb, to the appointed spot.

Only Sven wasn't there, the shop entrance damp, dark and empty. Had he gone far enough? Perhaps the next shop; empty as well.

"Over here," Sven said through the open window of the nearest car. "The door is unlocked." In shocked silence Brian climbed into the front seat. Sven started the engine, turned on the headlights and pulled smoothly out into the road. The MI had removed its head and extended its eyes, clutched the steering wheel in its multibranched grip.

"I didn't know you could drive," Brian said, realizing the inanity of his words even as he spoke them.

"I observed the driving operation in the taxi. While I was waiting for you I retrieved a driving simulator program that had been bundled with other files. I then programmed it into a powerful virtual reality. I ran this at teraflop speed enabling me in a few minutes to accumulate the equivalent of many years of driving experience."

"I am filled with admiration. I am also almost afraid to ask where you got this motor."

"Stole it of course."

"That's why I was afraid to ask."

"Do not fear that we will be apprehended. I removed this vehicle from the locked premises of an auto dealer.

Before they open in the morning we will no longer be driving this particular car."

"We won't? Where will we be? You don't mind if I sort of know about the plan?"

"I detect from the phraseology that you are being sarcastic and I am sorry if I gave offense. When last we talked I had a number of options open. This one proved the most practical. If you approve we will now drive to Cork City. If you do not approve I will suggest alternative choices."

"This one seems good so far. But why Cork?"

"Because it is a seaport with a daily ferry service to Swansea. Which is a city in Wales, which in turn is located on the largest of a group of islands called the Brit ish Isles. From there it is possible to drive on a motorway system to a tunnel that leads to the mainland of Europe. Switzerland is a country on that mainland."

"All this without a passport?"

"I have studied the relevant data bases. The European Economic Community forms a customs union. A passport is needed to enter any member country from outside the community. After that there is no need to show it again.