XXXV
THE TAXI did what Jubal expected of machinery, developed trouble and homed for maintenance. Jubal wound up in New York, farther from his goal than ever. He found that he could make better time by commercial schedule than by any available charter. He arrived hours late, having spent the time cooped up with strangers, and watching stereo.
He saw an insert of Supreme Bishop Short proclaiming a holy war against the antichrist, i.e., Mike, and he saw many shots of an utterly ruined building — he failed to see how any had escaped alive. Augustus Greaves viewed with alarm everything about it… but pointed out that, in every spite-fence quarrel, one neighbor supplies the incitements — and in his weasel-worded opinion, the so-called Man from Mars was at fault.
At last Jubal stood on a municipal landing flat — sweltering in winter clothes, noted that palm trees still looked like a poor grade of feather duster, regarded bleakly the sea beyond, thinking that it was a dirty unstable mass contaminated with grapefruit shells and human excrement — and wondered what to do.
A man wearing a uniform cap approached. «Taxi, sir?»
«Uh, yes.» He could go to a hotel, call in the press, and give an interview that would publicize his whereabouts.
«This way, sir.» The cabby led him to a battered Yellow Cab. As he put his bag in after Jubal, he said quietly, «I offer you water.»
«Eh? Never thirst.»
«Thou art God.» The cab pilot sealed the door and got into his own compartment.
They wound up on one wing of a big beach hotel — a private four-car space, the hotel's landing flat being on another wing. The pilot set the cab to home-in alone, took Jubal's bag and escorted him in. «You couldn't have come in via the lobby,» he said, «as the foyer on this floor is filled with cobras. So if you go down to the street, be sure to ask somebody. Me, or anybody — I'm Tim.»
«I'm Jubal Harshaw.»
«I know, Brother Jubal. In this way. Mind your step.» They entered a suite of the large, extreme luxury sort, and on into a bedroom with bath; Tim said, «This is yours,» put Jubal's bag down and left. On a table Jubal found water, glasses, ice cubes, and brandy — his preferred brand. He mixed himself a quick one, sipped it and sighed, took off his winter jacket.
A woman came in bearing a tray of sandwiches. Her dress Jubal took to be the uniform of a hotel chambermaid since it was unlike the shorts, halters, sarongs and other ways to display rather than conceal that characterized this resort. But she smiled at him, said, «Drink deep and never thirst, our brother,» put the tray down, went into his bath and started a tub, then checked around in bath and in bedroom. «Is there anything you need, Jubal?»
«Me? Oh, no, everything is fine. Is Ben Caxton around?»
«Yes. He said you would want to bathe and get comfortable first. If you want anything, just say so. Ask anyone. Or ask for me. I'm Patty.»
«Oh!The Life of Archangel Foster.»
She dimpled and suddenly was much younger than the thirtyish Jubal had guessed. «Yes.»
«I'd like very much to see it. I'm interested in religious art.»
«Now? No, I grok you want your bath. Unless you'd like help?»
Jubal recalled that his tattooed Japanese friend had made, many times, the same offer. But he simply wanted to wash away the stink and get into summer clothes. «No, thank you, Patty. But I do want to see them, at your convenience.»
«Any time. There's no hurry.» She left, unhurried but moving very quickly.
Jubal refrained from lounging. Shortly he was checking through what Larry had packed and grunted with annoyance to find no summer- weight slacks. He settled for sandals, shorts, and a bright shirt, which made him look like a paint-splashed emu and accented his hairy, thinning legs. But Jubal had ceased worrying about such decades earlier; it would do, until he needed to go out on the street … or into court. Did the bar association here have reciprocity with Pennsylvania?
He found his way into a large living room having that impersonal quality of hotel accommodations. Several people were watching the largest stereovision tank Jubal had ever seen outside a theater. One glanced up, said, «Hi, Jubal,» and came toward him.
«Hi, Ben. What's the situation? Is Mike still in jail?»
«Oh, no. He got out shortly after I talked to you.»
«Is the preliminary hearing set?»
Ben smiled. «It's not that way, Jubal. Mike wasn't released, he escaped.»
Jubal looked disgusted. «What a silly thing to do. Now the case will be eight times as difficult.»
«Jubal, I told you not to worry. The rest of us are presumed dead — and Mike is missing. We're through with this city, it doesn't matter. We'll go elsewhere.»
«They'll extradite him.»
«Never fear. They won't.»
«Well … where is he? I must talk to him.»
«He's a couple of rooms down from you. But he's withdrawn in meditation. He left word to tell you to take no action. You can talk to him if you insist; Jill will call him out of it. But I don't recommend it. There's no hurry.»
Jubal was damnably eager to talk to Mike — and chew him out for getting into such a mess — but disturbing Mike while in trance was worse than disturbing Jubal himself when dictating a story — the boy always came out of self-hypnosis when he had «grokked the fullness,» whatever that was---or if he hadn't, then he needed to go back into it. As pointless as disturbing a hibernating bear.
«All right. But I want to see him when he wakes up.»
«You will. Now relax and get the trip out of your system.» Ben urged him toward the group around the tank.
Anne looked up. «Hello, Boss.» She moved over. «Sit down.»
Jubal joined her. «May I ask what the devil you are doing here?»
«The same thing you're doing — nothing. Jubal, please don't get heavy-handed. We belong here as much as you do. But you were too upset to argue with. So relax and watch what they're saying about us. The sheriff has announced that he's going to run all us whores out of town.» She smiled. «I've never been run out of town before. Does a whore get ridden on a rail? Or will I have to walk?»
«I don't think there's protocol. You all came?»
«Yes, but don't fret. Larry and I made an arrangement with the McClintock boys a year ago — just in case. They know how the furnace works and where switches are and things; it's all right.»
«Hmm! I'm beginning to think I'm just a boarder there.»
«You expect us to run it without bothering you. But it's a shame you didn't let us all travel together. We got here hours ago — you must have had trouble.»
«I did. Anne, once I get home I don't intend to set foot off the place again in my life … and I'm going to yank out the telephone and take a sledgehammer to the babble box.»
«Yes, Boss.»
«This time I mean it.» He glanced at the giant babble box. «Do those commercials go on forever? Where's my god-daughter ? Don't tell me you left her with McClintock's idiot sons!»
«Of course not. She's here. She even has her own nursemaid, thank God.»
«I want to see her.»
«Patty will show her to you. I'm bored with her — she was a little beast all the way down. Patty dear! Jubal wants to see Abby.»
The tattooed woman checked an unhurried dash through the room. «Certainly, Jubal. I'm not busy. Down this way.
«I've got the kids in my room,» she explained, while Jubal strove to keep up, «so that Honey Bun can watch them.»
Jubal was mildly startled to see what Patricia meant. The boa was arranged on a bed in squared-off loops that formed a nest — a twin nest, as one bight of the snake had been pulled across to bisect the square, making two crib-sized pockets, each padded with a baby blanket and each containing a baby.
The ophidian nursemaid raised her head inquiringly as they came in. Patty stroked it and said, «It's all right, dear. Father Jubal wants to see them. Pet her a little, and let her grok you, so she will know you next time.»