For the twentieth time, Dr. Henry Balmer, M.D., M.M.C.M., M.S.M.H., F.C.P., paced tensely across the plushly carpeted office of his private practice in the Trapezium's upmarket Wells Place, glared down from the window overlooking an artificial stream bordered with shrubs, which farther on joined the Embarcadero waterways system, and for the twentieth time stomped back to the desk. He had a stocky, powerful build, white hair with a ruddy countenance, and immense eyebrows which he used for effect when switching on the penetrating stare that patients usually expected. Just now, however, the eyebrows were arched into anxious contortions above a dark frown as he drummed his fingers impatiently and stared at the comscreen.
He didn't like being in situations where he had done all there was to do, and the rest was up to others. He didn't like waiting for others, and he didn't like having to depend on them. The feeling of not being in control was something he was not used to. He especially didn't like having to put everything in the hands of a scientist when this kind of money was at stake. Scientists were financially and politically naive by naturewhy else would they spend their lives hiding away from the real world and dealing with things instead of people? And the ones like Sarda, "visionaries" who sought to escape even from the reality of things, were the worst kind. But it had needed to be that way. Sarda was the only one of them who officially didn't exist, and could be made to vanish permanently and untraceably after the proceeds were netted.
He extended a finger uncertainly toward the call button of the format being displayed on the screen. But before it made contact, the unit emitted a tone, and the intercom icon indicating his receptionist and assistant, Fay, in the outer office, began flashing. "Connect," Balmer ordered.
Fay's face appeared in a window. "I'm sorry, Dr. Balmer, I know you don't want to be disturbed this morning, but"
"What is it?" he demanded irascibly.
"Mrs. Jescombe has been through again for the third time. She's sure her attacks are about to start again, and she's insisting"
"Insisting? What do you mean, `insisting'? Nobody calls me and insists, do you understand? I told you, I have other, extremely important business to attend to today. Deal with it and fix something with her for next week."
"But she says"
"There aren't any buts about it. Kindly do the job that I pay you to do, which is using some initiative and trying to think and act like a professional. That means doing more than sitting there with your brain disengaged and relaying messages. A counter robot at any workman's flophouse could do that. Is that enough for you to understand?"
Fay swallowed visibly and nodded. "Yes, Doctor." Balmer cut the call and returned to the window. A dark blue car had turned off the throughway and was following the drive toward the front entrance of the building.
On top of everything else, Elaine had been acting strangely, having to be pushed all the timeand, he got the feeling, inwardly disapproving of just about everything. As if this thing weren't difficult enough already. It needed people who trusted him and who would do as they were told, not start questioning and losing their nerve at the crucial moment. Oh, sure, she'd been all confidence and full of herself when she attached herself to him, thinking she could just use his brains and his contacts, and then move ondid she really imagine he had never seen through that? But when she and her new scientist friend came to him with their half-baked idea, he had been the one who'd had to take charge and open their eyes to the potential that made it really worth the risks. He'd had the feeling then that she would never have the stomach to see it through. And lately, things between her and Sarda seemed to have been cooling. With a bit of subterfuge, maybe Elaine could be induced to be content and go her way with her third of the initial sum. She had played her part now, after all. If only Sarda had stayed with the plan and remained patient, instead of letting feelings of personal revenge get the better of him over a miserable five million. That made Sarda too unreliable for any long-term consideration. But Balmer needed him around for a while, until the progress payments were completed.
In the meantime, Elaine worried him. He hadn't been able to raise her, despite making calls all morning, and she had been curiously absent the evening before. He turned, went back to the desk yet again, and tried her number once more. A code on the screen announced that she was unavailable, even on priority. Balmer swore to himself, hoping that she hadn't broken down and done something stupid at this crucial moment. It had probably been a mistake to include her in the deal at all.
The intercom icon flashed again. "Connect," he snapped at the machine, and then, "Yes? What now?" as Fay's face appeared, looking apprehensive.
"You have a visitor, Dr. Balmer."
"Who?"
"A Dr. Sarda. He's saying"
"Sarda?! What's he doing here? He was supposed . . . I'll be right out."
Fay was already escorting Sarda across the outer office when Balmer emerged. There was a confused look on Sarda's face. Balmer caught him by the shoulder and ushered him toward the doorway into his own office. "What in Hell are you doing?" he muttered. "I told you not to come to this office. What's happened?"
Sarda looked at him blackly. "Am I supposed to know you? What happened with the experiment? He told me you'd be able to give me some answers."
"He? Who?" But Sarda was taking no notice, his eyes darting around the office as if for clues. Balmer looked questioningly at Fay, who was hovering uncertainly a few feet back. She glanced toward the waiting area on the far side of the reception desk.
"He was with another man. I guess he didn't staya big black guy. I never saw him before."
"Jesus!" Balmer pushed Sarda inside his office. "Get me Walworth at the Zodiac Commercial Bank, right away," he called back at Fay as he closed the door.
Sarda shook his arm away angrily. "What's this about? Everyone's talking about banks. I was told you had answers. Now it's looking to me like you don't know anything either. I want to know what in Hell's happening. Who are you? What place is this? And why was I brought here?"
"I'm Balmer, for God's sake."
"Is that supposed to mean something?"
"Elaine's professional partner. Yes?"
"Who is Elaine?"
Balmer shook his head. This couldn't be happening. "Look, you work for Quantonix, right?"
"I'm aware of that."
"And the TX Project?"
"What's your connection with the TX Project?"
"If you want answers, just answer my questions first, please."
"I went into the process. I don't remember coming out."
"You never did." Balmer groaned. "Are you telling me you know absolutely nothing about our" The desk comscreen beeped. It was Fay.
"I've got a Mr. Morch calling from somewhere called Quantonix Researchers in Lowell. He says it's in connection with the visitor you have in there: Dr. Sarda. . . ."
"Yes, yes. Put him through."
The features appeared of a fleshy faced man with thinning hair combed straight back. "Dr. Balmer?"
"Yes."
"Hello. My name is Herbert Morch. I'm a director of Quantonix Researchers, here in the city. We're looking at applications of certain quantum physical effects."
"How come he doesn't know you if you're working with them?" Sarda asked Balmer.
Balmer licked his lip. "Just give me a moment," he muttered. Then, to the screen, louder, "Yes?"
"We've just received a call from an Elaine Corley, whom you apparently know. She tells us that a subject of one of our research programs is there with you right now and is experiencing some disorientation problemsa Dr. Leo Sarda. I don't know where you fit into things, Dr. Balmer, but this could be serious. We're on our way over right now. I'd appreciate it if you'd do whatever you can to keep Dr. Sarda comfortable, and if you can, please try not to let him leave the premises. We'll be there soon. Thank you." The screen blanked before Balmer could reply.
"How long ago was the TX" Sarda began, but the screen immediately sounded a tone again.
"Mr. Walworth from Zodiac," Fay's voice announced over the image.
"Mr. Walworth? Look, I'm an associate of Dr. Sarda, who was due to meet some people there this morning. I'm just calling to say I'm sorry he couldn't make it. We had a slight hitch." Balmer forced an oily smile. "But everything's under control. Please apologize to our clients and ask them to bear with us."
Walworth looked puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand, Mister . . ."
"Er, Balmer. Dr. Balmer."
"Dr. Balmer, Dr. Sarda was here, on time, with Mr. Troon. Everything went smoothly. They left about fifteen minutes ago."
Balmer was beyond rational thinking by now. He pushed Sarda forward in front of the screen, gibbering almost incoherently. "I'll explain why in a moment. . . . The money . . . He'll recognize you. . . . Ask him if the funds went into your account."
Still not understanding, his face darkening with suspicion, Sarda confronted the screen. "You know me, right? Were some funds paid into an account that I have with you?"
"Yes, I know you of course, Dr. Sarda. . . ." Now it was Walworth's turn to be bewildered. "But if you're with Dr. Balmer, why does he think . . ." Walworth shook his head, evidently deciding that it was beyond him, or else none of a respectable bank official's business. "Anyway, yes, the funds were paid into your account here, and have been transferred onward in accordance with your further instructions. . . ."