The Speculist

Chapter 39

Part IV

Chapter Thirty-Nine

 

(Read earlier chapters.)

 

Reuben’s phone was ringing when he returned to his room. He dropped his bag, made his way across the room, and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” he said, a little winded.

“Hello, Mr. Stone.”

He recognized Sergei’s voice.

“I am calling on behalf of Michael Keyes.”

Reuben plopped down in a wicker chair and reached for the air conditioner’s remote control.

“Hi, Sergei. It’s great to hear your voice.”

An awkward silence followed.

“As I said, I make this call on behalf of Mr. Keyes. You have requested phone number. I have number for you.”

“Thanks. What’s the number?”

He fumbled for a pen and a notepad on the nightstand.

“Before I tell you, may I ask you two questions?”

“Shoot.”

“Shoot what?”

“Nothing. I just meant go ahead and ask your questions.”

“Yes. First, you are in Malaysia. Why?”

Sergei’s voice was equal parts curiosity and suspicion.

“How did you know that?”

“Mr. Keyes gives number to dial. I check country code. Either you are in Malaysia or call is being routed through Malaysia. Why you go there?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential business.”

Sergei sighed.

“Then please to answer second question. Why you want phone number of woman you have never met. Have only seen once?”

“How do you know I’ve never met Ksenia?”

“I ask. She says that she has never met you, and I believe her.”

“Well, that’s true. She’s never met me, but I’ve met her. It’s just like us. You don’t know me, Sergei, but I know you.”

“It is trick.”

“Fine. It’s a trick. May I have the number?’

“But why you want to speak to this woman?”

“I want to say goodbye to her.”

Another long silence followed.

“But this makes no sense. You have not seen her in months. She does not know you at all. She knows nothing about you. Why you wish to say goodbye to her?”

Reuben found that his patience was coming to an end.

“Because I’m insane. What do you care? May I have the number?”

“May I offer you some advice, Mr. Stone?”

“Would it kill you to call me Reuben?”

“No. Would not kill me. Would not make any sense, but would not kill me. I can comply. May I offer you some advice, Reuben?”

“What’s your advice?”

“Do not call her. Leave her alone.”

Reuben tapped the pen against the nightstand, puzzled.

“Why?” he said after a moment.

“International call will draw attention to her. She does not need this attention.”

Of course.

Ksenia was not in the Russia where Reuben had lived and worked. At least, this Ksenia wasn’t. She was in a highly paranoid and reactionary Soviet Union. Even something as simple as receiving a telephone call from another country could make her life complicated.

Reuben dropped the pen and paper.

“I see,” he said. “I understand.”

He knew that calling her was nothing more than an act of self-indulgence, anyway. And it would have meant nothing to her.

“Well, in that case, Sergei, can you do me a favor?”

“What favor?”

“Just please look in on her from time to time. Make sure she’s okay.”

“I could do this, but I don’t see point in it.”

“I would be very grateful if you would.”

“I do not promise. However, if time permits, I will look in on her.”

That was as good as an iron-clad guarantee. For what it was worth, this stranger who looked exactly like someone Reuben cared about would be looked in on. From time to time, anyway.

“Thank you.”

Another uncomfortable pause ensued. Reuben broke it.

“So how’s your wife, anyway?”

“She is okay.”

“And Dzhena? Has she started at university yet?”

“She begins next term.”

Reuben was about to ask where she was going to attend, when a different question occurred to him.

“That’s good. And what about Yuri, how is he?”

“Yuri is fine.”

Reuben coughed. In light of everything he had learned over the past three weeks -- and all that he had experienced in the months leading up that -- he knew that a small difference such as this shouldn’t take him by surprise. But it did, anway.

“I’m really glad to hear that, Sergei. I can’t tell you how glad. How old is he, anyway?”

“Mr. Stone, I have spent more time on this call than is wise. I do not have time to make chit-chat with you.”

“I understand.”

“We have agreed, then, that you do not need telephone number because you will not be placing call?”

“That’s right.”

“Very well. Goodbye then, Mr. Stone.”

Reuben hung up the phone. He realized that he was still smiling. There was something that he wanted to say to Sergei, something about realizing how lucky he was, how grateful he should be for what he had.

He laughed at the thought of it.

“Right,” he said out loud, to no one. “Then he would have known for sure that I’m insane.”

On an impulse, Reuben picked the receiver back up and dialed an international access code. When he heard the familiar tone, he dialed the number he now realized he knew by heart.

“Keyes,” the old man answered curtly.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Reuben! I was just wondering about you. You’ve been keeping awfully quiet lately.”

“Been busy. Besides, why should I bother calling when you have people watching me all the time?”

“Now, son, that isn’t exactly fair. I needed to make sure that the money arrived safely and that it didn’t bring any undue risk your way. Besides, Kirkpatrick and his crew left more than a week ago.”

“Right. And you haven’t sent anyone in their place?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that little Italian guy who always seems to be lurking in the corners. He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of staying out of sight. Actually, he is doing a pretty good job of it, but come on…an Italian? If he isn’t working for you, then I need to start worrying that he might be working for someone else.”

Keyes cleared his throat.

“Well…it’s all right. Put your mind at ease. He works for me.”

“Right. And how many locals? Is it two or three?”

A heartbeat or two passed.

“It’s three.”

“The kid who works in Daphne’s shop?”

“Wai Hoong. Yes. He’s one of them.”

“Okay. Then there’s the guy who runs the bar across the street.”

“Yes. He’s the other.”

“What do you mean the other. You just said that there are three.”

Another pause.

“Did I?”

“Don’t play games with me, old man. Who is it?”

“Well, the third is a little different.”

“Different how?”

“Betty worries about you, son. You really should try to talk to her more often.”

Reuben felt a twinge of guilt.

“I know I should. I’ll make a point of calling her later tonight. Or you can put her on after we’ve finished, if she’s around.”

“No. She’s down at the lake. I’m joining her for lunch.”

“Anyway, what does Betty have to do with this?”

“Well, she wanted a firsthand account of how you’re doing.”

“So I’ll call and give her one.”

“No, Reuben. I mean she wanted to hear from someone who has seen how you’re doing firsthand.”

“Right, so you let her talk to Wai Hoong?”

“No.”

“Well, you couldn’t have let her talk to the guy from the bar. What would he know about how I’m doing? He hasn’t seen that much of me.”

“No. Not him.”

“Well, then I don’t understand who --”

Reuben stopped in mid-sentence.

“Old man, are you telling me that your third spy is Daphne?”

“It’s not about spies, Reuben. How many times do I have to say that?”

Reuben was momentarily speechless.

“It was just, as I said,” Keyes continued, “something that I did for Betty. Something to make her feel better about things.”

“But, old man. Sir. You weren’t supposed to tell Betty anything about Daphne. This whole project is supposed to be confidential.”

“I didn’t realize you took it so seriously.”

“Well…maybe I take it more seriously than I did. Besides, I thought you took it seriously, anway.”

“It’s all right. She doesn’t know Daphne’s name. She doesn’t even know what country you’re in. I haven’t told anyone that. Well, except for Kirkpatrick and his men. And Santori. Oh, and I guess I gave it away when I gave Serge your phone number, but that was at your request. How did that go, by the way?”

“It went fine. Sergei persuaded me not to call her.”

“I imagine that’s for the best.”

“Yeah, well never mind all that. I’m still trying to understand what it is that you’ve done. Do you mean that you spoke to Daphne and reported back to Betty?”

“Yes. Partly.”

“Partly? What was the other part?”

“Betty insisted, son. You know how she gets.”

“So you’re telling me that you allowed Betty to speak to Daphne directly? Do you have any idea what a chance you were taking?”

“I was careful. Obviously, I set the whole thing up with Daphne in advance.”

“I can’t believe she went along with it.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t picture her as the comforting type.”

“Now, Reuben. Don’t judge her too harshly. She told me that she has to be a little rough on you to make the training stick. Don’t confuse the role she’s playing with the actual person. She’s really a very sweet girl.”

A gurgling, coughing sound emerged from Reuben’s throat.

“Anyway,” Keyes continued, “you know me. Master negotiator. Ladies man.”

“Wait a second.”

Something didn’t sit right, there. Negotiator.

Negotiator?

“Old man, don’t tell me that you paid her to talk to you and Betty.”

Keyes’ silence told Reuben everything he needed to know.

“I can’t believe it. I didn’t think this thing could get any more ridiculous. How much did you pay her?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.”

“Reuben, what does money matter to me -- to both Betty and myself -- in the face of our concern for your welfare?”

“How much?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“How. Much. Did you. Pay Her?”

“She assures me that it’s all going to the support of the Society.”

“How much?”

“Well, she asked for fifty, but I ended up giving her seventy-five.”

Reuben stood up. Feeling dizzy, he steadied himself.

“I -- I assume we’re talking in terms of thousands of dollars, here?”

“Um, yes.”

The line was silent for a long while.

“All right,” Reuben said at last. “Okay.”

He sat back down.

“Okay. I mean, look, I’m touched that you and Betty are so concerned that you would go to such lengths. And you’re absolutely right to say that you don’t owe me any explanations. You don’t. It’s your money. But will you please do me one favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Promise me that you won’t give her any more money. Seventy-five grand ought to be enough to buy a person a lifetime supply of Reuben updates.”

“All right. I promise.”

“Anyway, I was calling to let you know that we’re getting ready to start.”

“By that you mean that you’re leaving?”

“Yes, but we’re coming back. At least, that’s the plan. We’re just taking a test run. To see if I’m really capable of doing what’s being asked of me.”

“Reuben, are you sure about this?”

“Yes. Old man, there’s more at stake here than either of us realized. It isn’t about you and Betty and myself. It’s not even about my getting back, even though I still hope I will.”

“So what exactly is it about, son?”

“Everything. Everybody. It’s…kind of hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

“Well…what if I told you that I have to go save the universe?”

The old man chuckled.

“I think I’d have a pretty hard time believing it. Think about that, son: I would have a hard time believing it.”

Reuben laughed.

“I don’t blame you. I have a hard time believing it myself. And I don’t understand it.”

“I know you’re going to do what you’re going to do. You’re just like your Dad. Nothing I have to say is going to matter much. Just try to find your way back, son.”

“I’ll do my best. Can you have Betty call me later?”

“Sure.”

“You know, I think I have some advice for you. When this is all over.”

“Yeah?”

“Hire her. There’s got to be a place for Daphne somewhere in one of your operations.”

“Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.”

__

The knock at the door came just as Reuben stepped out of the shower. He threw on a robe and went to answer it.

The bellman was a Malay kid, not more than 20. He wore a ridiculously ornate uniform with a small black nametag: Faisal.

“Great,” said Reuben. “Here. It’s just these two suitcases and this box.”

The kid nodded and quickly loaded his luggage trolley. He turned to Reuben and handed him a claim ticket.

“Your luggage, sir. When will you re-claim?”

“I actually have no idea. My travel plans are a little confused right now. Hold on.”

Reuben stepped over to the nightstand and found his wallet. He put the claim ticket in and removed a fifty Ringgit note.

“Here,” he said, handing the money to the bellman. “Take good care of them while I’m away.”

The kid smiled with embarrassment.

“Sir, this one…cannot, lah.”

“I know you can’t take tips, Faisal. This isn’t a tip. I need you to look after those bags for me. All right?”

The kid nodded.

“Thank you, sir.”

Reuben closed the door after him and strode across the room to the balcony. He slid open the glass door and stepped outside. Although sunset was approaching, the heat and humidity were not diminished. The balcony was nice -- more wicker furniture and lots of bougainvillea -- but Reuben rarely used it. It was just too hot.

He looked out for a moment, admiring the odd mix of architectural styles that made up the small city: Chinese shop houses stood amid British and Dutch colonial structures. Several times before he had looked for remnants of the Portuguese occupation, but had never seen any -- other than the ruins of a fortress which sat at the top of the hill overlooking the city.

Clouds were gathering in the distance; rain would not be unwelcome.

The near silence was shattered when the call to prayer began at the magnificent mosque just across the river from Reuben’s hotel. With so many mosques in town, Reuben could never understand why the imams felt they needed to use such powerful loudspeakers. Were they trying to reach potential worshippers in Sumatra?

He went back into his room and closed the door behind him.

The clothes he was to change into were neatly folded on the bed. He had packed everything else away, with the exception of a few valuables that he had left at Daphne’s. It really didn’t make any sense. If he was going to be gone for so long that he needed to check out of his room and store his belongings, shouldn’t he pack something to wear?

When asked for an explanation, Daphne had demurred -- as she so often did.

Reuben began to get dressed. He would know soon enough, after all. He regretted that he hadn’t thought of calling the Keyes sooner. He wouldn’t be there to take Betty’s call.

Reuben finished dressing, and was just about to walk out the door when the phone rang for the second time. He walked back to the nightstand and picked it up.

“Hi, Betty,” he said.

“Mr. Stone, ah? This is Kai Ling at the front desk. You are checking out this afternoon, is it?”

“Ah, yes. In fact I’ve already settled up.”

“Yes sir. Mr. Stone, may we have a return date to put on your luggage?”

“I don’t know the return date.”

“Oh, I see, sir. But unfortunately, I cannot put the luggage into storage with a return date, lah. Can you estimate?”

Not really, he thought.

“Let’s call it a month.”

“Yes sir. One month. Thank you, Mr. Stone.”

“Sure. Oh, can you do me a favor? I’m expecting a call later from a Mrs. Keyes. Betty Keyes. Will you give her a message for me?”

Reuben waited, listening as the clerk got a pen and paper and began writing down the details.

“A message from…Mr. Stone to…Mrs. Keyes. Yes, sir. Go ahead.”

“Tell her I’m sorry I missed her, but I’ll be back in touch with her as soon as I return. So she shouldn’t worry.”

“…and…not…to…worry. Is that all, then, Mr. Stone?”

“I guess that’s it.”

“Would you like for me to tell your friend that you will be returning in one month’s time?”

Reuben rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” he said.

Posted by Phil at February 29, 2004 11:59 AM | TrackBack