The Ear, the Eye and the Arm (20 page)

Arm lounged in an easy chair. He wiggled his freshly polished shoes to catch the light. "Mrs. Matsika insisted we take these
dashikis
because they were a gift to the General. 'He never takes gifts,' she said. 'People might think they were bribes. He always gives things away.' Hah!"

"You don't believe anyone gave the General a skinny six-and-a-half-foot-long
dashiki?"
Ear said, watching Arm uncurl from the chair.

"No more than they gave him earmuffs."

Ear smiled into the mirror over Eye's shoulder and patted the new muffs. They exactly matched his
dashiki.
"I wonder how she knew we didn't have suitable clothes."

Arm looked around at the sagging furniture and peeling paint. "It must have been a lucky guess."

The doorbell rang. Arm peered through the peephole and saw General Matsika's chauffeur glancing around anxiously. Shortly afterward, they were sailing off over the Cow's Guts on their way to the Mile-High Macllwaine. The detectives sat in the back so they wouldn't make the chauffeur nervous.

As they approached, they could see tier upon tier of lights festooning the Mile-High Macllwaine. Everything a human could want was there, from the grand lobby on the ground floor to the elegant Starlight Room one mile up. It was the kind of place the detectives could only afford in dreams. At the moment the Starlight Room was obscured by a small cloud.

"You have time to visit the lobby. I have to pick up the General and his wife at the University," the chauffeur told them. So Ear, Eye and Arm walked through the magnificent entranceway and tried not to look like tourists.

The lobby was built over a lake. Guests could catch bream or tiger fish for dinner, if they liked. Giant glass walls separated a wilderness area from the walkways, which had glass floors over the water. The sun was near setting, and day animals were changing places with those of the night.

Lily-trotters stepped delicately from lotus pad to lotus pad; kingfishers darted among the reeds; flocks of
queleas
flew in formation. They turned, dipped and landed in a twittering bunch. Under the glass floor, a crocodile gazed up at them with slitted, calculating eyes.

Eye grasped Arm. "I can't help it. I used to watch them on the river where my mother washed clothes."

"So did we all," said Arm, steering him past the spot. The crocodile rose gently until its eyes poked out of the water. It floated along under them, keeping pace with their feet. At last, it sank down again.

"To wait for another tourist," Ear said with a shudder.

They came to a large enclosed island where hippos grazed. A family of giraffes was silhouetted against a bank of picture windows. "Beautiful," murmured Arm as he watched the scene.

But by now the sun had set, and they would have to get to the Starlight Room. Arm rang a bell at the desk. A clerk bustled over and only blinked once when he saw such unusual guests. "The Starlight Room?" he said. "Do you have reservations? Ah! The General. Let me escort you to the elevator." He led them to a wall of doors, pressed a button and bowed slightly to show them in.

"Wait a minute. This is
glas
s,” said Eye.

"But of course," the clerk replied. "What would a trip to the Starlight Room be without a ride in our famous glass elevators? They go up like rockets."

"I — I'm terrified of heights."

"Let me assure you, terror is half the fun. You should hear the ladies squeal! But don't worry. After the first quarter mile, the ground becomes a blur."

"Not to me," Eye said.

"Isn't there another way?" Arm asked.

"There
is
a service elevator for bananas and so forth," said the clerk in a frosty voice. "It's completely off-limits to, um, humans. Perhaps you would prefer dining in the basement. You'll find sandwich machines there."

"Cover your face, Eye," Arm said gently. "Surely you'll be all right if you don't look."

"I'll know," moaned Eye, but he let himself be led onto the glass floor. He crouched with the neck of the
dashiki
pulled up over his head and screamed as the elevator shot up. It was a little scream, as screams go, but it felt like a blow to Arm. He had forgotten he was vulnerable to Eye's fear.

The elevator of the Mile-High Macllwaine whizzed up past apartments, schools, clinics, supermarkets and sports clubs. It passed churches, meditation halls, mosques, drop-in clinics for Mellowers and an entire floor devoted to the Lion Spirit Medium, who relayed messages from
mhondoro,
the spirit of the land. Ordinary mediums had offices every fifty floors. The Mile-High Macllwaine wasn't a building so much as a vertical town within the great city of Harare.

Ear, Eye and Arm passed health spas, vegetable markets, a junior college, beauty salons and libraries, although only Ear appreciated the view. Eye was curled up in a ball; Arm was trying to block out his fear. Once, Arm had heard, the system had broken down, and food could not be sent to the top one hundred floors. Then there was a very small famine.

It was like rushing up in a bubble released from the bottom of the sea. By the quarter-mile mark, Eye had fainted, and Arm shook himself free of his friend's thoughts. He didn't believe he could have taken another minute of terror.

And still the elevator rose, above all the other buildings in Harare. It plunged into a shallow cloud bank and popped out the other side. Now all Arm could see was an ocean of cloud, glowing with the last rays of sunset.

The door slid open at last. Ear and Arm dragged out Eye and laid him on the carpet. The waiters, who were delivering snacks, stepped around them with expressions of distaste.

The detectives fed Eye Earl Grey tea until he recovered. By then, General Matsika and his wife had arrived, and the waiters gathered by the door to greet them. Arm asked that they be seated away from the window.

"It's all right with me, but it's a waste of a good view," said the General. "Being sensitive is a handicap, isn't it?"

"And a great gift as well," Mrs. Matsika added, laying her hand on the General's arm.

They had the restaurant to themselves. The General's bodyguards formed a cordon by the door. They checked the waiters with metal detectors as they left the kitchen.

The food was fantastic. They began with chilled avocado soup and prawns in aspic. They moved on to grilled guinea fowl, baby carrots in herb butter and red Mangalore rice from India. Dessert was mango parfait dotted with toasted macadamia nuts.

Of course Arm wondered why the General was entertaining them. Matsika talked of seemingly innocent topics, but the detective had the impression he was studying them. He asked questions about their work, their lives. He seemed interested in every detail.

At the end of the meal, a group of men appeared at the door and demanded to be let in. "I'm sorry. The Starlight Room is reserved," the
maitre d'
began.

"Totally unacceptable!" grated a voice that fluttered Arm's nerves. "We always eat here. I shall complain to the President!"

The General stood up. "Of course let them in," he called. "I had no idea the honored Gondwannan Ambassador wished to dine at the Starlight Room. Please accept my apology."

A large man with the shoulders of a prizefighter strode into the room. "Amadeus!" he cried. "Such a pleasure to see you!"

Arm felt a wave of hostility so intense, he almost fainted.

"My dear Ambassador! We were about to leave or we would certainly have treasured your company. Consider the place yours." The General indicated the restaurant with a sweep of his arm.

He paid his bill, adding a generous tip, and bowed to the diplomats as he left. The Gondwannans drew tables together and yelled for brandy. Arm noticed every one of them had set off metal detectors when they passed General Matsika's bodyguards.

As they walked to the elevator, Arm looked back. He had an impression of dark shadows hovering over the Starlight Room. And this was odd because the men themselves were perfectly ordinary. They were brutish, with too much money and power, but Arm had met characters like that before. Something else flitted around and behind them. He had never seen anything like it.

They went down only two floors to the nearest limo landing. Arm expected to be dropped off in the Cow's Guts, but to his surprise the limo sailed toward Mazoe. "Too early to go to bed," rumbled the General. "From what I hear, you fellows are out all night anyway."

Arm nodded. Of course the General knew about the visit to Dead Man's Vlei, and perhaps a good deal more than they had reported. He looked out at Mount Hampden, a largely English suburb. It wasn't long until Christmas, a popular English holiday. Some of the houses were decked out in colored lights, and one had a wooden model of a bearded man in a cart pulled by eight antelope.

They passed over the Iron Mask Mountains and came in low over Mazoe Reservoir. They landed at the Matsika estate, with searchlights trained on them from all sides.

"Don't get out until I've deactivated the weapons system," said the General. Arm saw, with a tightening of his throat muscles, machine guns slide back into the walls.

The automatic Doberman fawned at the General's feet but raised metal hackles at the sight of the detectives. "Friend," said Matsika, placing his hand on each detective in turn. The Doberman retreated, growling, to its kennel.

They went inside, and Mrs. Matsika sent the maid robot off for fruit juice. A sewing basket offered her a selection of knitting. She waved it away. The butler robot hung up the General's cap. The holophone danced around eagerly until it was ordered to stand in a corner. Machines were everywhere.

Could I get used to this? thought Arm as he lazed on a sofa with his long arms resting along the top. No metal springs dug into his back. No suspicious ratty odors wafted out of the stuffing. I could, he decided — and yet where are the people?

Ear and Eye happily dug into a plate of cookies provided by Mrs. Matsika as she asked them about their childhood in Hwange.

"Come on. We have something to discuss," General Matsika told Arm. He began to put his glass on a table, and the maid robot managed to slide a coaster under it before it touched the wood. They went down a hall to a library. The General sat on one side of a large desk and indicated that Arm should take an easy chair on the other. They sat for a moment, studying each other, before the General cleared his throat.

"I know where the children are," he said.

Twenty-one

"They're in Resthaven."

Arm stared at General Matsika. He had heard vague tales of the place.

"I located the bus driver at once." The General got up and prowled the walls of the library. Surprisingly, because he didn't seem like a scholar, the shelves were loaded from floor to ceiling with books. A sliding ladder allowed one to reach the upper levels. "He was visiting his parents in Mtoko. He was perfectly cooperative — had no idea of the harm he had done." The man climbed the ladder and removed a weighty old-fashioned book with a leather cover. The rungs of the ladder creaked as he descended.

"I don't understand. Why don't you bring the children home?" Arm said.

"Resthaven isn't part of Harare," said Matsika, opening the book on the desk. He blew dust off the pages. "Strictly speaking, it isn't even part of the world. Look here."

Arm leaned over the picture the General had found. It was a painting of a tall thin man. He wore a painted bark apron that reached to his knees and a short sword at his hip. The scabbard was richly wound with gold filigree. The man's hair was elaborately decorated. Hanging on his chest, which was otherwise bare, was a white disk with a spiral pattern on it.

The man stared directly out of the page. Arm had seen that look before on one of the lions at the Lion Park. The animals were overweight and placid, but for an instant one of them had gazed at him with the same expression. It meant
If you and I were alone on a jungle path, I wouldn't give a bent pin for your chance of survival.

"Who's that?" Arm asked.

"An artist's idea of Monomatapa. Of course no one knows what he really looked like, but there's a lot of information about his time. Two hundred years ago, a group of traditionalists decided to go back to the world of Monomatapa."