Resonance

Chapter 26. The Plot Thickens

  When we got back, we had some soup and also went right to bed. Even though our bodies had been lying on gurneys in the lab for only a couple of minutes, subjectively it had been a full day. We were tired too, and in the TSA it was somehow conveniently evening for us.

  The next morning we reported to Andrew Kirk's office for our first debriefing. He and Nick were waiting for us, but I bet they'd only been waiting for a couple of minutes. Between the two of us, I think Shep and I did a pretty good job of reporting practically minute by minute what the Ys had done the day before—their day before.

  Among other things, we tried to remember as many as possible of the names on the lists they'd used when they made the sheets for the album, and when we got to the ones for the black boys, Andrew Kirk whistled.

  "Just a moment," he said and called Heather to join us. She arrived in about ninety seconds. "Tell her those names," he told us, and we did.

  She checked something on her device that was like Angel's and like the one her husband had used to call her and then nodded. "As far as I can tell, they're names used for black male slaves," she said. "Justus means just, Crispus means curly, Rufus means reddish—maybe skin tone—and Fuscus I didn't know, but I've just checked, and it means swarthy. Rastus and Cletus don't mean anything, I don't think, but they're just the same sort of names—slave names."

  "Nasty," said Kirk, and she nodded. "Are you game to go back?" he asked us.

  "Are you kidding?" said Shep. "How could we not?"

  "We want to find out what happens as much as you do," I added. "So we can prevent it. Because we don't know exactly what it is yet, but it's definitely something bad."

  So the Ys got up the next day, with Shep and me aboard, and put on actual suits, although they were a little tighter and shinier than anything anybody we knew would wear, with white shirts and kind of loud ties. They went out for breakfast, the way they had before. It was actually pretty boring, so Shep and I talked—luckily we don't ever seem to run out of stuff to talk about.

  They took the album with them when they went to breakfast, and afterward, still early—about quarter past eight—they got a dark gray Lincoln Town Car out of a parking garage and drove to what was apparently Kirk A's apartment near the university, a place we hadn't been yet.

  Why aren't we going to their TSA? asked Shep.

  No clue, I said. We were both really surprised—we hadn't actually thought of Kirk A being a person in the normal world, outside his TSA. We both had an idea of him like a big nasty spider in his TSA web, pulling strings in lots of different universes.

  It was obvious that Kirk A considered his TSA as home and the apartment as just a necessary convenience—it was small and dark and unattractive, not impressive the way his office in the TSA was (if you like that kind of thing).

  Kirk A was dressed in a suit like the Ys', a little too tight and a little too shiny, and a pale blue silk damask tie, with the kind of shoes my dad calls "Continental lounge lizard slip-ons."

  He looks like a drug dealer or something, Shep commented. They all look like criminals.

  Note the pinkie ring, I added. It was silver-colored metal, platinum I guess, and had a rock in it the size of a dime. It looked way too big to be a real diamond, but maybe it was, I don't know.

  He was waiting when the Ys arrived, and they all left right away, so we really didn't get much of a look at the apartment, just enough to see that it wasn't very nice.

  Yancy drove. Of course. Yarnall sat next to him in the front passenger seat. Kirk A sat in the back and went through the album, making little noises of approval.

  "Excellent work," he said finally. "Truly excellent. You boys deserve a little bonus, and I'll see that you get it when we get back."

  "Thank you very much, sir," said Yarnall.

  "Thank you, sir. We appreciate it," Yancy added.

  They drove to Hibbard, which is a much bigger city about an hour and a half from Lincoln, and went to the Sheraton in the middle of downtown. The car was valeted, Kirk A checked in, and they went up to a room—a suite, really—on the top floor. It had a sitting room and one or more bedrooms, I'm not sure, because we stayed in the sitting room the whole time, except when one of the Ys needed to take a piss (his words).

  In the room was a wet bar that had been stocked with scotch, gin, vodka, and white wine in a cooler. There were soft drinks in the fridge under the counter, and more wine—I know because Yancy opened the fridge and got himself a Coke.

  Kirk A wasn't too pleased. "Finish that before Mr.—ah, "Smith" gets here, Yancy. It doesn't look professional."

  Mr. "Smith" arrived at about quarter to eleven. Someone phoned from the desk to say he'd arrived, and Kirk A said to send him up.

  Yancy opened the door and let him in. After he'd locked the door again, he said, "You understand, sir, that we have to take every precaution. Please lean forward and place your hands against the door." He patted "Smith" down very thoroughly.

  "Thank you, sir," he said then. "Now would you please unbutton your shirt."

  "What? Why?" protested "Smith."

  "It's simply a precaution, sir, to make sure you're not wired."

  "Smith" wasn't wired. Once that was established, the Ys took up stations on either side of the door with their hands behind their back, as if they were on guard, very military.

  "Smith" sat on the couch with Kirk A and went through the album. He stayed nearly an hour, drank a gin and tonic, and chose Jessica—actually he chose Daisy, which is what Jessica was called in the book—and wrote Kirk A a check for $150,000. The check was post-dated, for a week later, and "Smith" wasn't the name he signed on it. He also gave Kirk A a photo of himself, wearing a polo shirt and smiling, a DVD, and a pillowcase in a big plastic baggie.

  Holy wow, I said. He just BOUGHT A KID! It's human trafficking!

  Or in other words, slavery, plain and simple, Shep said. I could feel him shaking his head.

  "Should it be of interest to you," said Kirk A, "I'm pleased to tell you that if and when Daisy becomes, uh, too mature to meet your requirements, we can supply a new Daisy, exactly the age of this one. If you should choose to have us do so, we will also take this Daisy off your hands at that time."

  "What—what will you do to her?" For the first time, "Smith" looked a little ill at ease.

  "We'll return her to the place that, uh, originally supplied her. No harm will come to her, I assure you."

  "Well," said "Smith." "That's good to know. I'll keep the possibility in mind."

  "Thank you, Mr. 'Smith,'" said Kirk A. "Delivery will be made in a week's time, and the check will be cashed then."

  "Why the wait?" asked "Smith."

  "We pride ourselves on our excellent and superior service," said Kirk A. "By the time we deliver, uh, Daisy, she won't need much breaking in. Her period of adjustment will be over, and she'll be all ready to accept you as her daddy and step into her new life. That way you can begin enjoying your acquisition at once, rather than having to deal with the tears and the fussing. It's our aim for you to be completely satisfied with our service. And if you are, we hope you'll recommend us to your friends."

  "Smith" was gone before twelve. At twelve-thirty Mr. "Brown" got there. He picked Edward, whose name in the book was Herbie, and also wrote a check for $150,000.

  And at two, Mr. "Green" arrived. He allowed himself to be patted down, but he wouldn't unbutton his shirt until Kirk A and the Ys had unbuttoned theirs. Once it was evident that nobody was wired, he warmed up and got very jovial. He drank vodka on the rocks, looked through the album, and chose Ming, whom we knew as Abigail. He too wrote out a check for what I've learned from watching The Sopranos is known in certain circles as "a yard and a half." I think. Maybe it's "fifteen large."

  We were on the road back to Lincoln by a little after three. The Ys dropped Kirk A at his apartment at quarter to five, returned the car to the garage, and went home to change out of their suits. Shep and I could hardly wai
t for them to go to bed, so we could get back and report.