The Third Circle
Chapter 31
Chapter 31
The plane landed a half hour behind schedule in Los Angeles. Claire did not see the staring man again. She deplaned and said good-bye to Franklin Garrabrandt. On impulse, she gave him a hug, which startled him. She offered a dollar to the mother of the child with the broken top, and apologized again, but the woman wouldn't take it, apologizing herself for the child's things being spread out everywhere.
Claire found a car rental concession called "Happy Drive-Away," and rented a new, stately, gray Buick for three dollars a day plus a penny per mile. She drove up the coast, checked into an ocean front hotel in Santa Monica, and had a seafood dinner out on the pier. She got back in her room at seven o'clock and called John.
"Hi, Darling," she said when the desk put her call through.
"Oh, Sweetheart," said John. "I'm really missing you. How was the flight?"
"Weird. The staring man came with me!"
"Oh, no, you're kidding!"
"But he didn't do anything. After awhile, he just disappeared."
"You must have been terrified. You couldn't have transported without falling!"
"Tell me! I was afraid I was going to have to beam home without you."
"Well, I'm glad you didn't have to. You're okay now?"
"I'm fine. I met a really interesting man on the plane. He told me a great story from some book by Sherwood something or other. Anderson, I think. I'll tell you all about it when I see you. Did you bet some money?"
"I did. I went ahead a few days and got some information. I really want you to meet this kid Lennie."
"You mentioned him before. The numbers guy."
"There's something incredibly special about him. Like I want to adopt him and bring him home with us or something. He's a heartbreaker, very frightened and suspicious and doing this dangerous stuff. I want to try and get closer to him."
"Well, you be careful. Those racket guys won't stare you into the darkness. Probably just blow your head off if they think you're running a scheme on them."
"I know," he laughed. "I'm being real careful. Oh, the paperwork came today from Bryce Robinson. He wrote a nice note with it. He actually had Gus fly him down to Austin at his own expense, and walked the corporation paperwork through the State. It all looks really good. We can talk about it and look it over when you get back. Maybe we'll get an appointment with Sarnoff, Kline's lawyer."
"That would be a good idea. Have someone else look at it just to be safe."
"Also, an attorney from Chicago called this afternoon about the transistor thing I gave Rudy."
"That was fast."
"I know. I'll tell you about it when I see you.
"I really miss you!"
"I miss you, too, Darling. Did you eat anything?"
"I had a pastrami sandwich earlier. Stayed with me. I'll get some room service later. Did you?"
"Lobster thermidor in Santa Monica. Scrumptious. I'm in a great ocean front hotel. We'll have to stop here on our way back. I'm going to turn in early."
"There's a live Leadbetter concert here tonight at the Town Hall."
"Oooo, sounds great. I'm sorry I'm not there. Why don't you go?"
"Oh, I don't want to go without you. I'm just going to hang around the room. You have a safe trip. Say hello to Marie."
"I will. I love you, Darling."
"I love you, Claire. Call me tomorrow night."
"I will, Sweetie."
John hung up and turned on the radio. In the American league, Chicago was trouncing Boston. He spun the dial and found Gabriel Heater, who believed that Henry A. Wallace had threatened to undo, in one day, what Truman and Byrne had accomplished over several months.
Claire went to sleep to the comforting sound of the Pacific Ocean. She was up and on the road before dawn, wearing slacks and a long sleeved shirt. She stopped near Oxnard for a quick breakfast at a truck stop, and then drove on north, reaching the road to Walker's cabin a little after nine-thirty Saturday morning. She parked the Buick and walked toward the trail. Old Mr. Walker was out in front of his cabin, loading junk in the back of the new green pickup. The Model A was turned over on its side in the creek bed beyond the cabin. Claire waved at him, and he smiled and waved back.
She had been worried about burying things. The only thing she really needed to have on the other end was some money and the wedding ring, but she was concerned about how hard it was going to be to dig it up again after over fifty years had passed, much less digging a hole in the first place that dry, rocky soil. She had bought a little collapsible camp shovel on her way through town, and a knapsack, which she now had with her as she traipsed through the brush to the property where their house would be.
The bug population had lessened considerably with the cooler weather of late September. She made several starts at a hole, each time running into crusty shale too hard to get through. She finally found somewhat penetrable earth in an area where she knew no trees would be planted. It took several minutes to get a hole dug. She had brought a sheet of plastic, and she undressed and carefully wrapped her clothing, the ring, the keys to the Buick, some extra currency, her purse, and the knapsack, and dropped the tight package in the hole. She covered it up, leaned the shovel against a nearby oak tree, set her time watch for Friday, August 9th, 1995, and pressed the lever.
She materialized in the midst of dozens of gnats, and not ten feet from Gus, their little black puppy, who was also spending the morning trying to dig holes. He met her arrival with a frantic yelp, and a leap straight up in the air. Then he recognized her and pounced over to her in unbridled glee, jumping up on her and scratching her naked legs with his claws. She knelt and got him quieted down, and then went around behind the house. She got the step ladder from the laundry porch and lifted the screen out of their bedroom window, and climbed through the window and on to their bed.
She grabbed some Levi's and tennis shoes and a T-shirt and went back outside through the kitchen door and got a shovel from the shed. She had to get the hose and turn it on to help loosen the crusty soil. Twenty minutes later, with Gus's help, she dragged the wet plastic bag out of the hole.
She opened it and grabbed the money and her ring. She slipped the ring on, worried for a moment that Marie would notice it wasn't her old one, even though Claire could hardly tell the difference herself. She tossed the bag back in the hole, took the shovel and hose back to the shed, and went inside the house. She telephoned for a cab, and then changed clothes and fixed her hair, careful to put everything in the bathroom back exactly the way it was, knowing that when she herself came home that evening, she would notice if anything had been moved and would become very alarmed. She found an extra purse and wallet, and put the money inside, and dropped her time watch in.
Then she went into the living room to wait for the cab. She stood at the living room window looking out at the seclusion. She loved that they couldn't see any of their neighbors' houses. The fact was, they hadn't even met any of their neighbors, though they had lived on the mountain more than a year. Being so reclusive themselves, Claire and John had no way of knowing for sure, but they suspected that most of their neighbors were also strangers to one another. It was a community of strangers. Even though the road they lived on was traveled only by residents, if one passed someone, driving or walking, no one was apt to wave. It was Claire and John's view that people probably feared all sorts of things living so far from town and from street lights and from regular police patrols. They had a feeling that their neighbors locked their doors, and, when dogs barked at night, turned out their lights and crept to their windows and peered out and imagined serial killers. Claire and John did not keep a gun, but they suspected that most of their neighbors did.
She sank down on the couch and looked around the room. Poppy was on the table in the corner, staring out the window. It was her favorite place. She was so skittish that it was John's theory that she was on the lookout for serial cat killers.
Claire smiled. Their little black kitty, Thomas, jumped up on her lap. She became overcome with a feeling of intense gratitude for their home and all of the things in it. She felt like she had been away for months and months. It all came back to her, the feeling of comfort and safety in this house with her family, the happiness she had found here in this solitude which had eluded her for all of the other years of her life, the peace and contentment she had with John, who she thought was the most wonderful husband in the world. She wondered how it was that they had come to want for anything else. She looked over at the little antique table for which tomorrow, Saturday, she and John would buy, on her credit card, a three hundred and fifty dollar clock. A three hundred and fifty dollar clock, when they couldn't afford to pay the bills they already had. What had possessed them?
"Well, you can't win if you don't bet." That's what John was always fond of saying when they would drive up to the Indian Casino. The clock brought the Genie, and the Genie brought her ultimately here, and, when she returned again to this place, they would have won great riches beyond their dreams, and the pictures for a fabulous book besides. "How funny life is," she told Sir Thomas, stroking him. He purred so loud he chirped.
The taxi honked outside. She straightened her hair, kissed the cats, grabbed her purse, and left the back door unlocked.
John had stayed up past midnight listening to "Superman," "Tom Mix," "Mr. District Attorney," "The Haunting Hour," and "Mr. and Mrs. North." He ate room service fried chicken and drank three Coca Colas and had trouble getting to sleep.
He awoke with a start at nine on Saturday morning. An emptiness overcame him. He tried to remember what he had been dreaming, but couldn't. He felt terribly alone, and his heart ached for Claire. He pulled on some clothes and brushed his hair, and went downstairs for coffee. He went to the desk, got the briefcase out of the hotel safe, and took out another sixty thousand in cash.
He connected with Lennie at the shoe stand. They went and sat on the bench just inside the garage entrance again, and John bet another two thousand dollars on three losing numbers. He gave Lennie another fifty.
"How come you keep giving me such good tips when you lose?" Lennie asked.
"Oh, I guess I'm just generous when I run into people I like a lot. My wife says I'm too generous, sometimes."
"You got a wife?"
"I do. I'm really lucky, Lennie. Maybe not with the numbers, but I've got the best wife in the universe."
Lennie laughed. "'Best wife in the universe.'" He repeated it again, stifling a giggle.
"Her name's Claire. She's out visiting her daughter in California right now, but I've told her about you. I'm anxious for you to meet her."
"Why did you tell her about me?" The curiosity with which he asked the question saddened John.
"Oh, I guess 'cause I think you're a pretty special kid. I've met some people since I been in New York, but you're one of the special ones."
"How come?"
"You got a spirit about you. You're very wise about things. It seems like maybe ... I don't know ... maybe you've had to grow up fast. You got a pa?"
He looked at John and then looked down at his shoes. "Nah," he said. "I ain't got no pa."
"I'm sorry. I don't either," said John. "My dad died when I was five."
"That's too bad," he said, genuinely saddened. "Germans got my pa."
"Oh," said John somberly. "I'm sorry, Lennie. Is that where you were? Germany?"
"Nah. We was in Yugoslavia. That's where we lived. The Germans come in and got pa. He hid the rest of us. Got us all train tickets to go to Greece. He couldn't get out of there, though."
"I'm sorry, Lennie. The rest of you made it out?"
"Yeah. My ma. Two little sisters. We made it out. Got here finally a couple years ago. Ma's been really sick since then."
"So, you're taking care of the family."
"Got to. Nobody else. Had uncles and stuff back in Yugoslavia, but the Germans come in and got them all."
"That's really hard stuff to talk about," said John. "Sometimes I guess it's good to talk about stuff with somebody."
Lennie looked at him. "I guess," he said. He looked down again. "Anyway, I gotta go."
"You take care," said John. They stood up. "See you tomorrow?"
Lennie shuffled backwards toward the street. "You gonna lose all your money betting these numbers, you know that?"
"Oh, I'll pick a winner here one of these days."
"Yeah," he laughed. "They all say that." He gave a little wave and turned and trotted off down the street. John walked to the sidewalk and looked after him.
He made his rounds a little faster than he had the day before, and he bet larger amounts. He wanted to present himself as a big spender and heavy loser who kept increasing his bets to recoup his losses. He was working up to Wednesday, the 25th.
After his betting, he went to Greenwich Village and had an Italian lunch. He hung out in bars and sidewalk cafes all afternoon, and caught glimpses, or so he was told, of Willa Cather, John Dos Passos, and Eugene O'Neil.
Riding down the mountain and across town in the taxi in 1995, Claire realized she hadn't been aware of all of the areas of tension involved in being in 1946. She drank in all of the familiar, up-to-date buildings, cars, and landmarks. It seemed so congested, so laborious, so frantic, but it was also familiar, and she gave a little a sigh of relief. It's so nice to be home, she whispered to herself.
They arrived at the Community College, where Marie's summer Theater Arts classes were held, just before noon. The cab waited in a loading zone while Claire ran in to catch Marie coming out of class. She nearly bumped into her coming around the corner of the corridor leading to the auditorium.
"Hey, Mom! What are you doing here?"
"Oh, Sweetheart," she said, grabbing Marie and taking her in her arms and squeezing her. "I love you so much!"
"I love you too, Ma. What's wrong?"
"Oh, there's nothing wrong, Darling. I just missed you so much today."
"You changed your dress."
"I ... yes, I did. I spilled a cup of coffee this morning all over it and had to drive all the way back home."
"What a drag."
"I decided to surprise you and take you to lunch," Claire said as they walked outside.
"Wow, neat," Marie said. "God, you sure seem up! What's going on?"
"Nothing, Sweetheart," Claire laughed. "I just missed you, that's all." She grabbed her again and kissed her on the cheek.
"Wow, a taxi cab! Where's your car?"
"Oh, the brakes were acting funny driving down the hill, so I dropped it off to have them checked."
"Well, you sure act like you're having a good day for someone who spilled coffee on her dress, had to go all the way back home, and then had the brakes go out."
Claire laughed as they got in the back seat of the taxi. "I know. I guess it seems silly or something. I should be feeling down. But ... some different things that have been going on in my life have made me realize how truly precious you are to me." She took Marie's hand. "Sometimes I just feel like I'm bursting with love for you." She kissed her cheek again.
"I love you, too, Mom," Marie said, giving her a hug.
"Where would you like to go to lunch?"
"You changed purses, too."
"Coffee got inside."
"Let's go to Oscar's."
"Would you rather go someplace fancy?"
"No, Oscar's is perfect. I've been obsessing about their cheeseburgers all week."
"Oscar's it is," Claire told the driver. "So, Sweetheart, tell me everything that's been going on at school. I mean, you've been sharing some of it at home, but this moment I want to hear all of it. Every detail."
As Marie talked, Claire followed along, responding lovingly to everything, all the time either stroking Marie's hair, patting her hand, or leaning over and kissing her cheek. She had heard many of these things before, but realized she hadn't really been listening. She drank in everything, every word, gesture, laugh, movement. When they pulled up at the restaurant, Claire said, "I'm so grateful to have such a wonderful daughter as you."
"Oh, you're the best mom in the world," Marie said, hugging her again.
They got out. Claire paid the driver, momentarily shocked at how much the fare was, and they went into the restaurant. They sat in a booth and ordered, and Marie excused herself to go to the rest room.
Claire was suddenly struck with the same melancholy feeling of isolation that had come over her on the plane, wanting to share things with Franklin Garrabrandt. She felt like she had when she once served on a jury in a long and complicated murder trial. She was sequestered with these people who came to know one another pretty well over the three months of the trial, but they couldn't discuss anything about the most important thing that was going on in their lives, which was the trial, the very thing that had brought them together. She was dying to tell Marie all about the Genie, about George Washington, and all of their adventures, the people they had met, and the things they had seen. But here she was pretending instead that it was just another Friday at work. She had never once, since deciding to come, thought of telling Marie what was going on, but now she deliberated about it. She tried to figure out what harm it would do. She was going to tell her anyway, as soon as they got back. Why not now?
She practiced in her head what it would sound like. "Honey, John and I have been on a trip for several weeks because a Genie came, and we got a wish and decided to go back in time, except we aren't leaving until Sunday, because the Genie won't come until tomorrow, and even though I just dropped you off at school this morning, it's been so long since I've seen you that I just had to fly in from New York and have lunch with you. Don't tell Mommy, okay? Because she doesn't know yet."
Claire smiled inwardly at the insanity of it. Marie was solid, but how would she react to that? There seemed too many potential complications. Suppose that her reaction would be to become very upset, for whatever reason, and Claire would have to make arrangements to stay with her longer than she had planned? The problem was, might something be done or said that would change tomorrow? Change the Genie's coming? Change the wish? What if Marie called her, for example, the other her? "Ma, something really really really weird is going on, and I want you to stay home tomorrow, no matter what!"
What would happen to her, Claire, here, now, if for some reason they didn't buy the clock tomorrow, if the Genie didn't come? Would that mean she, here, now, would just disappear, since they would never have gone back in time in the first place? Would the other Claire have any of her memories? And what would happen if Marie became too upset for Claire to go back to New York before Sunday, the day they left? Suppose, for example, that Marie got really upset because they hadn't taken her with them. Maybe she would think that's why they went, to get away from her. She could get insecure like that sometimes. What if she was so upset or confused about that, or about something else, that Claire would have to stay with her past Sunday? Anything past Sunday at eleven-thirty would take her into the future. The Genie said they couldn't transport to the future. Did that mean they couldn't just sit around and wait for it to happen? At 11:30 Sunday - the moment of their leaving - would her present and the other present - the one in which she and John were at this moment a half a mile from here at work - simply melt together? Would they just pass themselves somehow? Would John go on in New York? Or would he in some way disappear back into himself?
There seemed so many mind-boggling variables, especially so near the time of the Genie's arrival the next day, that Claire decided to wait until they got back to tell Marie, difficult though it would be to keep everything from her.
And, it was a good decision, because they had one of the best talks during lunch that they had ever had. They discussed feelings Marie had about her father, about John, about her step mother, about school, about her friends. Marie shared private and intimate things and feelings, and Claire accepted them, validated them. It was a rich exchange, the richest experience, in fact, that Claire had thus far had on her journey back in time, and one that she would bring back home with her that would overshadow, by far, any other riches they happened to return with.
The only problem was, when they got ready to leave the restaurant, it seemed impossible to tell Marie the very important thing she had to tell her, that, when they spoke on the phone tomorrow morning, Saturday, they were to pretend that this wonderful conversation hadn't happened. She couldn't dream of doing anything that would in any way diminish this extraordinary time they had had together. But it was necessary to tell her that, or something like it. It would be most traumatic if Marie called her, the other Claire, the next day and commented on the wonderful time they had had when, for the other Claire, this lunch had never happened.
She groped for an alternative. She could say that she and John were going away for the weekend. That way, Marie wouldn't bother to call. But, would she, the other Claire, in turn call Marie when she didn't hear from her? That was no good either.
Then, in that moment, something extraordinary happened. It felt a little like de ja vu, or like suddenly recovering a lost memory from a dream. Claire began to recall, in detail, the telephone conversation that she had had with Marie on the Saturday morning just before she and John went to town and bought the clock. It came back so clearly. And the incredible thing about it was, it was like a new memory.
"Mom," Marie had said when she called, "that was such a special time we had yesterday. Thank you so much for surprising me and taking me to Oscar's. I love you so much."
"Oh, Sweetheart," Claire recalled saying, "you're welcome. We'll do it again soon. I can't wait to see you tomorrow night. Have a wonderful weekend with Dad."
That was it. That was the conversation, that and a lengthy description Marie gave of the movie Appolo 13, which she had seen with her friend Jenny on Friday afternoon.
But how could she have said that?
Because it was true! They had actually had this lunch at Oscar's!
"Oh, my God," Claire thought. "It's as though I ... just changed history!"
"I should go," said Marie. "Jenny is meeting me at Dad's at two o'clock. We're going to see Appolo 13."
"Oh, that's right. Well, we better go." Claire paid the check and asked the waiter to call a cab.
Claire was trying hard to remember the other Friday, the one that was going on right now, a half a mile away, for the other Claire. Yes, she had gotten up in the morning and dressed and taken Claire to the college in the Olds, had kissed her good-bye. She remembered that. She had ... no, not spilled coffee. Instead it was Midge Collmeyer's baby! It was as though she had forgotten, and just now remembered. Midge was a receptionist at the office. She was on maternity leave. She had just had the baby, and had brought it in to the office to show it off. Claire had held it, and it had thrown up all over her dress. That had really happened, yes. And Claire had had to drive all the way back home to change clothes, because she had a special editorial board meeting at ten o'clock. Of course. And she had even changed purses, because she didn't think the other one matched the only dress she had clean. What a fuss it had been. What an inconvenience. She had been five minutes late for the board meeting. She recalled having resolved to keep an extra dress at work in the closet from now on in case of emergencies. And, yes! The brakes had acted funny driving back! Not quite grabbing right. She had taken the car to the Chevron station across the street from work and left it after the board meeting. It had turned out that it was only low on fluid. She remembered that now. She was terrible about remembering fluids. Then ... "Oh, my," she whispered out loud.
"What is it, Mom?" Marie asked.
"Oh, nothing, I ... I just remembered something, that's all." They sat at an outside table waiting for the taxi. The taxi. After the board meeting, after taking the Olds to the Chevron, Claire had called a taxi and gone to surprise Marie for lunch.
There it was. It had really happened! And, with the realization, in that instant, there came the oddest sensation of a sort of collapsing somewhere deep beneath her consciousness.
"Mom? You look like something's wrong. Are you okay?"
Claire stared at her. She looked down at her hands. Something had happened. She had no idea what it was. She shook herself. She took Marie's hands and smiled. "I was remembering when you were a little girl, and you used to get so excited when we would go out to dinner. We used to go to that little Italian restaurant down the coast. Do you remember that?"
"I sure do," Marie smiled.
"I don't know why we don't go there any more. And I don't know why I thought of it just now. It just came to me. Memory is a funny thing, don't you think?"
"It is sometimes. I love you, Mom. You're the best."
"Oh, I love you too, Sweetheart."
The taxi came, and Claire dropped Marie at her dad's house. Marie's friend Jenny was waiting on the lawn. "Have a nice weekend, Darling," she called after her. "Talk to you tomorrow."
Marie gave her a kiss and hopped out of the cab.
"Now where to?" asked the cab driver.
"Good question," thought Claire. She remembered, the Friday before they left, returning to work after she had dropped Marie here. Where was she now? Who was she now? She reached in her purse, groping for the time watch. Maybe it was gone! Maybe she had somehow undone everything, come, in some convoluted way, full circle.
There was the watch. She clasped it tightly, afraid it might be about to disintegrate.
"Off Walker Road," she told the driver. "Up the pass."
"You got it," said the driver. He pulled out of the driveway and turned toward the freeway. Claire felt some part of herself falling away. She was going in the other direction. She closed her eyes, afraid to look out the rear window.
Back at her house, Claire prepared to transport to the Saturday she had left in 1946. She put her time watch back on her wrist, carefully replaced the clothes and purse she had taken that morning, and replaced the window screen. The last thing she did was replace the step ladder on the laundry porch, and there, lying across a basket of dirty clothes, was the green dress she had presumed herself to be wearing that day at work. She gingerly felt the fabric in front, and then instantly drew her hand away, giving a short gasp. The dress was still wet and sticky from Midge Collmeyer's baby's breakfast. It was true. Here was the evidence. She had somehow miraculously changed the past in the simple act of coming here. Simple act indeed! She caught a hysterical laugh in her throat. Just a little crazy now. It's okay. Just take it easy. One foot in front of the other. Keep breathing. Everything will be all right. But would it? Had she changed other things as well? Or had she ... broken something -- some chain, some part of the mosaic. And, -- her mind raced back to the mundane, the astonishing, inconceivable mundane -- of course the dress is here because ... she remembered now hurriedly tossing it there six weeks ago. It had gone in with Saturday morning's wash. She closed her eyes and stood for a moment in the knowledge that she had altered something, trying to grasp it and everything it might mean. As she had written in her journal, she was perfectly aware that everything they were doing in the past was creating new realities, changing the past, and therefore the future, probably irrevocably. But this was somehow a different order of change.
Or else maybe she hadn't changed anything at all. Maybe this was the way it had always been -- Friday lunch with Marie. "What a trip," she whispered. "My God, what a trip."
She walked naked to the spot where she had dug the hole. "Now what?" she asked herself, staring at the things she had dropped into the bottom of the hole. She had not intended to do anything but simply leave it that way, presuming that when she retrieved those things in 1946, they would never appear here in 1995. That was the way it worked. Or, so she thought. But now there was evidence that her coming here had changed things. Wouldn't, in turn, the evidence of the trip itself remain? If she left the hole as it was, with the things lying in the bottom of it, would that hole not be here when she, the other she, and John got home from work tonight? Her mind got dizzy thinking about it. She tried to remember getting home that Friday night from work. She couldn't remember anything about a hole, other than the ones Gus was even this moment making in the flower garden. She kneeled down and scooped the dirt back in the hole, set the time watch for the day she had left in 1946, and pressed the lever.
In an instant, the temperature dropped twenty degrees, and the bugs all but vanished. The camp shovel was by the tree where she had left it. She dug up her things, dressed, and walked back down to the Buick. Mr. Walker and his green pickup truck were gone.
It was six o'clock when she reached Santa Monica. She checked into the same hotel where she had stayed the night before, and called John. His room didn't answer. She lay back on the bed and fell asleep. She didn't wake up until just after four in the morning. It was seven in New York. She got a sleepy clerk at the switchboard, and got through to John's room at the Waldorf.
"Claire?" John said, sleep in his voice.
"I'm sorry to call you so early, Sweetheart. I tried you last night but you weren't in, and then I fell asleep."
"Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I got in this incredible intellectual discussion with these pre-beatnik types in the Village and lost track of time. I hope you didn't worry. How did it go?"
"Fantastic. I think."
"You 'think?'"
"Yeah. It was a real trip. The best time I think Marie and I have ever had together. I'll tell you all about it when I see you. So, what do the pre-beatniks say?"
"They're sort of avant guard Buddhists. They have it all figured out. It's the problem we've talked about -- the incongruity between the world 'in here' and the world 'out there.' There are three possibilities. Either the whole world 'out there' is an illusion, so we can do whatever we want without worrying about it. Or, the world 'out there' is real but we can transcend it and live on a higher ethereal plane. Or there are inner skills we can cultivate to allow us to live in peace with the basic congruity."
"Hm. So, which is it?"
"That's the question."
"Well, let me know when you figure it out. I have to rush now to catch the plane. It leaves at six-thirty, and I just got up."
"Okay, Sweetheart. I love you. Have a nice flight. See you in New York."
"Bye, Darling."
John was on the runway waiting for her when the plane landed in New York just past noon. They ran to greet each other.
"I missed you," Claire said, hugging and kissing him.
"I missed you too, Sweetheart." He kissed her. "I can't wait to hear all about your trip."
"Are you okay? I've been worried about you, big operator in the New York underworld."
"No problems at all. Actually kind of fun," he laughed. "I'll tell you all about it."
In the taxi on the way back to Manhattan, Claire told John in detail about the flight out, about the professor and how she felt that her conversation with him had perhaps in some odd way broken the spell of the staring man. Then she described the lunch with Marie, and all of the events around it. John was as startled as she had been at the apparent alteration of the events of Friday that her trip had brought about. "The whole thing made me very confused," she said.
"Me too," he laughed. "Speaking of changing the future, I think that the development of the transistor is going to turn out to be a product of Black capitalism in Chicago."
"No kidding."
"Yep. This attorney who called me Friday was William R. Brown. Pretty amazing that there are any Black attorneys in Chicago as early as 1946, but there he was. A second cousin of Rudy's. He asked me what sort of joke this diagram was that I gave Rudy."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him it wasn't a joke. He asked me where I got it, and I said that I had seen something like it in Japan before the War, but had worked out the details and perfected it myself, and was giving it to Rudy because I liked him and because I already had more projects than I could handle."
"So, what did he say?"
"He was skeptical. He wanted assurance that it hadn't already been invented by somebody else."
"It hasn't, has it?"
"Not yet. I double checked. It was developed next year, in 1947. I told Brown that either he could just get it patented, and then sit back and wait, or else go ahead and develop it. The guy was into action. He opted for development. I said I'd send him twenty thousand to start a corporation, and told him, and Rudy if he wants, to hire a couple of electrical engineers from RCA or someplace. Buy them a little lab and some germanium and give them the design and turn them lose. Then hire a marketing and sales guy with a background in communications technology. I told him when it starts making money, he could repay the twenty thousand by issuing twenty thousand dollars worth of shares to Walker Creek Enterprises. I gave him Bryce's number in Amarillo."
"It doesn't sound like good old Rudy will be a Pullman porter for long," said Claire.
"Not unless he wants to, he won't."
"So how's the betting going?"
"Heavy losses." John lowered his voice so the cab driver couldn't hear. "I'm posturing myself as a big time loser. Betting under different names. Moving toward Wednesday. The plan is to bet more and more every day, and then move in for a grand slam. I'm betting just baseball games and numbers, and a few fights spread out all over the country. I decided to leave the horses alone until Wednesday. Then I've got some daily doubles pegged. Then we should get out of here. Probably fast. We'll be wiping out some pretty tough characters."
"So, what do you call this? The 'Robin Hood High?'"
He laughed, and then realized there was a slight edge in her tone. "What, you don't think it's cool?"
"Sort of messianic, don't you think?"
"Hey, I was the one who suggested we not be selfish in the beginning. That we wish for world peace or something."
"I was the one who suggested world peace. You wanted an end to talk radio, as I recall."
"Hey, what's wrong? Oh."
"What?"
"That time of the month again already."
"Why do you always put it back on me?"
"I'm not putting it back on you!" he said in a forced whisper.
"Yes you are. And don't get angry."
"I'm not angry."
"You are too. I can tell by your eyes. You're angry because you're afraid I'm going to want to go get some Advil again and interrupt your gambling spree."
"Sweetheart," he said, putting his arm around her, "I'm sorry I got mad. And no, of course, we can leave any time you want. And, you're right, maybe this money trip has gone to my head. It is kind of a rush, though," he smiled.
She smiled back and kissed him. "I'm sorry," she said. "My back is really killing me. It started last night."
"Oh, Baby, I'm sorry." He reached behind her and massaged her back. "How does New England in the Fall sound?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, let's transport ahead to the 70s again, October this time, rent a nice car, and cruise up through New England. Hang out in some of those storybook bed and breakfast places."
"Serious? You don't mind? We would only have to stay for three or four nights."
"Of course I don't mind. Sounds splendid to me!"
"But you're so into the betting right now."
"It will be right here when we get back."
"Well, if you're sure. It does sound nice."
"I love you," he said, kissing her.
"Oh, I love you too, Sweetheart. I'm sorry I'm so ..."
"I understand," he said. "It's okay. It really is."
As soon as they got back to the hotel, Claire arranged through the concierge for a car rental, and got some road maps. A woman in housekeeping found them a durable plastic bag.
The October issue of Incredible Tales of Escape had arrived at the cigar store, and they decided to take it along so they could read the concluding installment of "Flight from Tampico."
They reviewed the materials Bryce Robinson had sent. Walker Creek Enterprises would be operated as a corporation under the direction of Claire and John Banister and Danny Leland. Danny, or his designee, would have full authority to operate the enterprise within the guidelines set down, but any decisions he made could be overridden at any time by Claire and John, who would have two thirds of the votes on the Board of Directors, and who would always retain, and automatically be forever issued, 51% of the available stock. Danny would have sole discretion in their absence, but only within the goals and activities of the corporation, which were enumerated in detail, and no deviation from them could be made without Claire and John's express consent. The covenant went on for several pages describing specific geographical locations of oil and natural gas development and production. The document enumerated a long list of properties from St. Louis to Amarillo that were to be purchased within five years from funds John and Claire would be forwarding to the corporation and from profits that accrued during that time. These were to be leased rather than resold in every instance feasible without preventing development, with all proceeds being income of the corporation. There was also a "not to be sold" list of stocks, which were the blue chips Claire and John were planning to buy in New York and sign over to the corporation. Up to fifty percent of the dividends earned on these could be used for capital expansion as necessary, and the balance was to be reinvested to buy more of the same stocks.
The document also detailed the investment in the development of a new pain relieving drug through Neilson Pharmaceuticals in St. Louis. This section included the ibuprofen formula, and Bryce had already secured a patent number.
The document went on with explicit descriptions of activities necessary to carry out the objectives enumerated. If Danny wanted to expand the corporation's activities beyond those listed, he would be free to do so, so long as such expansion was "prudent and reasonable" and was financed with his own resources. He would be provided with twenty-two percent of all income derived from the corporation for costs of administration of the corporation, including his own salary, and would have first option on the purchase of up to thirty percent of all new shares of stock issued by the corporation. Bryce Robinson, or his designee, would have the authority to enforce the covenant, would act as legal counsel and general advisor to the Corporation, and, in addition to legal fees, would receive first option to purchase ten percent of any new stocks issued. He was also given a limited power of attorney for Claire and John, to purchase stock on their behalf, to execute legal and financial agreements necessary to the successful achievement of the corporation's stated goals and objectives, and to intervene on their behalf should those goals and objectives be violated in any manner.
Another document created a Trust which would assume Danny Leland's role in the event of any violations, which would be ultimately determined by a court of law.
"Looks good to me," said Claire.
"I've been thinking, I want to get Sarnoff to write a declaration. Like a will, or last testament, or something. In the event of our death of disappearance, all of our interest in Walker Creek gets transferred to us when we get back. To the 'real' us."
"He's going to think that's pretty weird."
"Lawyers have to do lots of weird things."
She laughed.
"Then the only thing left to do," John said, "is to make sure Walker Creek has enough initial capital. Should be able to do that by Wednesday, after our vacation."
"I love these free vacations!"
They had room service dinner, and fell asleep listening to Sunday night radio shows. John woke up at midnight, turned off Guy Lombardo, and went back to sleep.