Faerie Tale (56 page)

They discovered Wycheck and his companions had removed their robes. “I don’t suppose you’d care to fill us in on some things, Mr. Wycheck?” asked Phil.

“Only this,” said the dapper stranger, his tone warm and friendly, but his eyes like nothing so much as blue flint. “The universe is a vast place, and few have an opportunity to even glimpse a portion of its true scope and nature. Of those who do, even fewer survive the experience. Simply count yourself and your family as among those very few and fortunate souls, Mr. Hastings. Put all this behind you and let it fade from memory. Should we—my associates and myself—ever discover you involved in our affairs again … we shall be forced to take measures.” The last was said without any hostility or threat. He was simply stating facts as he saw them. “Now I suggest we return to Mrs. Hastings and your daughter and her fiancé, Mr. Hastings. I am sure they are anxious to know you are well, and your sons look in need of a hot bath and warm beds. We shall speak more when we reach your home; we have much to discuss.” To Mark he said, “By the way, your associate Mr. Thieus and his lovely lady friend are also waiting there for you, Mr. Blackman.”

Watching one of Wycheck’s companions cover the chest with shovelfuls of dirt, Phil said, “How did you get that out of the police station?”

Mr. Wycheck motioned with his hand in a courtly gesture for Phil to precede him on the path. “As Mr. Blackman has no doubt told you, Mr. Hastings, we are well connected.”

“The Magi?”

The man only smiled as he said, “We prefer to keep our identity to ourselves. Now, if you would be so kind, I think we’d best get your two tired boys home.”

Phil couldn’t argue with that, for both boys were al
most asleep on their feet. He put a hand on each of them, relieved he could again do so, and, as Barney recovered his flashlight, took them home.

Gabbie nearly flew through the screen door when she heard her father’s voice in the night, and Gloria was a step behind her. Sean and Patrick trudged alongside their dad, obviously exhausted. Phil and Mark spoke in quiet tones, discussing what they had encountered.

“Dad!” cried the girl. “There’s these strange men with guns.…” Her voice trailed off as she saw Patrick. Gloria hurried and grabbed both her sons, hugging them fiercely. She couldn’t stop herself from crying as she rocked back and forth, holding them tight. After a minute Patrick said, “Mom, you’re squeezing the breath out of me!”

Phil felt something inside break and tears ran down his face. Nothing else could have told him that things were back to normal with his son as well as that complaint did. He realized how much he had held down his feelings over the last few weeks, and how much more he had forced his mind to accept on this wild and improbable night. Now he felt his knees go wobbly. To Barney and Mark he said, “Gentlemen, let me buy you a drink—if you’ll take Scotch, Barney, for I’ve no Irish.”

“Whiskey’s whiskey, when it comes down to it, and a guest has no right to complain over his host’s hospitality. Thank you, I’ll stay. But it’ll be the last, for tomorrow I’m back to A.A. and once more the pledge … unless they come again.” He glanced at Wycheck and his companions. “Assumin’ there’s no objections?”

Mark shook his head. He knew how Barney felt. “Come on, Phil. Pour us all a round.” Looking at the dapper man, he said, “Care to join us, Anton?”

The man only smiled and said, “No, my associates and
I will only stay a short time.” But he followed them into the house. The other three men went around the outside of the house, toward the front porch. Phil noticed they were chanting softly, some odd ritualistic thing, and for an instant something in the words seemed to pull at his mind. He shrugged off the odd sensation and led the others into the house.

As Phil entered the living room, he found Jack, Gary, and his girlfriend Ellen sitting on the couch, with two men, like the others in black turtleneck shirts and blue jeans, standing nearby. They appeared relaxed, but it was clear that up to a few minutes before they had been standing guard. Gary rose and crossed to Mark’s side, quickly speaking to him. Phil poured a round of drinks and began passing them around. Gabbie went to sit next to Jack, who looked grim-faced.

Taking a swig, Phil watched Gloria turn to Mr. Wycheck. “The boys are exhausted. Can they get baths and go to bed?”

With a smile, the man said, “By all means, Mrs. Hastings. Please, we wish to be as accommodating as possible.”

Both Sean and Patrick came over and hugged their dad good night, and Gloria took them upstairs. With his wife and sons out of the room, Phil said, “So, then, Mr. Wycheck. What’s in store for us?”

“Why, I wish to buy this house.” Seeing Phil’s face set in a grim mask, he took a check from within a coat pocket and said, “I think you’ll find this a more than fair offer, Mr. Hastings.”

Phil read the amount on the check and nodded. “This is twice what I paid.”

“We have no desire to take advantage of your need to sell. I know you and your family need to move quickly, before the first of the year. Is there any problem?”

“No,” answered Phil. “That will be ample time.”

Wycheck said, “A lawyer will contact you with papers to sign, but you may cash the check now, if you like.”

Phil shook his head. “‘Need to sell.’ I like that. It’s a nice euphemism for extortion.”

“Hardly extortion, Mr. Hastings. You need to sell this house. Why,
only
this morning you heard from your agent that your studio wants another
Star Pirates
film. He strongly urged you to accept, since the money’s too good to say no. And as Henderson Crawley has declined to direct another, they want you to direct as well.” As he spoke, Phil’s mind seemed filled with odd echoes, as if each word heard was instantly repeated by another voice, somewhere inside Phil’s head, as if his agent’s voice were saying those words. He found the sensation disconcerting, but it ended the instant Wycheck stopped speaking.

Mark said, “I thought we’d just all disappear.”

“Mr. Blackman, the days where violence is required to solve problems is, alas, not yet behind us, but we do find any other means to resolve difficulties whenever possible. People of some celebrity vanishing causes too many concerns. Besides your own notoriety and that of Mr. Hastings, can you imagine the stir should the sole heir to the Larker fortune vanish without a trace? No, we try to be reasonable if at all possible. Those among our brotherhood who took a part in this unfortunate attempt to change the nature of our ‘agreements’ have been identified, isolated, and dealt with. Mr. Blackman, had you but stayed another day with us, you would have been given transport back here, rather than having to ride all those uncomfortable buses. You see, it was August Erhardt who was the last spy in our midst. Some of our brothers thought resuming conflict might offer opportunities for us to consolidate our already not inconsequential positions in the world, leading even, perhaps, to a unified world order. A
Utopian
dream, not unknown in our ranks from time to time, and more appealing in the light of present world tensions. Misplaced idealism, I’m afraid. We sent word—how, you do not need to know—identifying him as one sent to rectify the situation. His death was just reward for his activities.”

Mark spoke bitterly. “And what about Aggie Grant?”

“That is most regrettable,” answered Wycheck, and his manner seemed sincere. “But as in all wars, the innocent perish.”

Gary spoke up. “Well, how are you going to cover that up? And the business at the hospital?”

“Mrs. Grant died in an accident; that is public record. John Wilson, a transient hitchhiker from Selma, Alabama, to whom she was kind enough to offer a ride, perished with her. Mr. Wilson had no next of kin. He will be buried at public expense.”

Again as he listened, Phil found himself hearing strange echoes, but this time the voice seemed to be Dr. John Latham’s.

Wycheck nodded to one of the silent, black-clad men, who handed over a thick sheaf of documents in a folder. A fire had been built in the fireplace and Mr. Wycheck began tossing papers into the fire. “These records never existed. Dr. Michael Bergman of Johns Hopkins graciously came to Pittsville to try his experimental machine on a very ill young boy from a local orphanage. Unfortunately, the child died, and Dr. Bergman was unable to help. In a lovely gesture, Dr. Bergman paid for the child’s cremation, and the ashes will be spread in these very woods. Also, a transient police suspect—the very man thought to have assaulted Miss Hastings two months ago—was being held under psychiatric observation by the police. He escaped tonight by attacking a nurse and two orderlies, tossing a chair through a defective safety window, and fleeing into the night. The police are now looking for him, but they will be unsuccessful in recapturing him.”

Phil shook his head, as this time the echoing voice sounded like Detective Mathews. With a sigh he said, “You’ve made your point.”

Wycheck threw the last of the papers into the fire.

He indicated a suitcase on the floor. “Those documents found in the basement will return here with whoever we send to occupy these premises, Mr. Hastings. We shall keep them until that time. I’m sure you understand.”

Phil nodded. With a smile, and a salute with his cane, Wycheck said, “Our business is finished. So I will bid you all a good night.”

He signaled to the men in black, one of whom picked up the suitcase, and they left. Wycheck saw himself out, while Phil looked at Mark. After a while Mark said, “It would have been a hell of a book, Phil.”

“That it would have been, Mark.” Phil started to laugh. “But who in the name of sanity would have believed a single word?”

Mark’s expression turned less somber; after a moment he began to laugh as well. “You’re probably right.”

Phil heard an odd buzzing and strained to hear it. It was as if someone outside was chanting not quite audibly. He shook his head and the sound was gone.

Gloria entered. “I thought I heard someone come in!” She came and kissed Mark on the cheek. “God, I’m glad you made it back all right. You’ve been gone such a long time. It’s almost two months!” Her expression was relaxed, though there was an air of sadness about her, but none of the frantic qualities that had lived in Gloria’s face for the last few weeks were visible.

Mark and Phil exchanged glances as Gloria said, “You know, I could use a drink, too. Such terrible news about Aggie.” She glanced upward. “It hit the twins harder than I thought it would. They’re both simply exhausted.”

Phil looked at Mark, and they both glanced at Ellen and Gary, Jack and Gabbie. Gary seemed himself, but Gabbie, Jack, and Ellen were all glassy-eyed.

Then Ellen shook her head, as if waking up, and said, “It’s … so sad. You know, we came by to tell you we’re getting married, and now that seems so inappropriate.”

Gloria said, “I think Aggie would have been happy for you.”

Gary, Mark, and Phil all stood still, each sharing the same thought: They’re beginning to forget. Barney sat rubbing his head, as if suffering a headache. He said, “Well, thank you, Mr. Hastings, for the drink.” He stood, rubbing his head again. “I think it’s back to the pledge. It’s taking its toll, the drink. My head’s pounding like a trip-hammer.” He reached down by the chair and picked
up the big flashlight and said, “Sorry about the car. But we’ll have another look in the morning.”

Phil nodded, feeling as if something was slipping away from him. He put his thumb to his head, above the bridge of his nose, and said, “Okay, Barney, but … whew! Have you ever drunk something cold too fast and it shoots a pain right up here?” Gloria nodded. “Oww!”

“Well then, and it’s a good night to you all, as much as it can be with such sad news about Mrs. Grant. And that poor fellow she gave a ride to. Pity such a fate.”

Gloria looked at Phil, covered in grass and mud from his tussle with the Fool. “I wish you’d just left the car alone instead of crawling under it.”

Phil said, “I should have, but I limped along from the kids’ school to Barney’s and”—he squinted, again holding his thumb to his forehead—“and we thought we’d take a look. Hell, we were going to get wet walking home anyway.”

Gloria’s tone was disapproving. “You should have called.” She looked at Mark. “Sean wore one of Gabbie’s blouses, which was bad enough in this weather. But then he got caught in a thicket and had to leave it somewhere out there. And Patrick went dressed as Puck, if you can believe it. Green leaves sewn to his underwear! Why I ever agreed to that idea I’ll never know.”

Jack sat on the couch, his arms tightly around him, looking pale and drawn. Phil said, “Jack, you okay?”

Jack nodded. “Yes, it’s just … Aggie’s death’s hitting kind of hard.” Gabbie held him close.

As Barney could be heard leaving by the back door, Mark motioned Gary to come closer. “They’re all forgetting. I think we should compare notes. We might not be able to tell anyone else about any of this, but there’s no law says we can’t.…”

He saw a strange expression come over Gary’s face. “Any of what, Mark?”

Mark said, “Why … the.…” He groped for words as thoughts seemed to leave his mind of their own volition.

Outside, a car door slammed, and Gloria said, “Who is that?” She crossed to freshen drinks for Phil and Mark.

Phil said, “Mr. Wycheck, the man who’s buying the house. He insisted on coming by and dropping off the check tonight. I told him on the phone.…” Phil’s brow contracted, as if he had a sudden headache, then he continued, “… it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.”

Mark turned, about to say something, but his mind seemed a riot of images. He took a deep breath, feeling an instant of vertigo, then it passed. He shook it off and said, “I … I forgot what I was going to say.” He blinked. “What’s this about selling your house?”

Phil shrugged. “It’s all happened pretty fast. I got a call this morning from my agent. The studio wants another
Star Pirates
film, and they want me to direct.”

Gloria handed the refilled drinks to the men. “And within ten minutes, this Wycheck character calls out of the blue, saying he’s interested in property around here and would we care to sell. The man’s a nut. You wouldn’t believe the profit we’re making from the sale.” She sat down on the chair Barney had vacated. “So tell us about Germany. Did you find anything?”