The Barsoom Project

Chapter Forty-One

“A tragic accident’ is what the papers call it.”

Seated gingerly on a table near the window, Griffin turned to face Millicent. His back was still terribly sore, and his left elbow was bandaged. “How’s Fekesh?”

It was a quarter to nine in the morning. As if sensing his black mood, Millicent had appeared at his doorway ten minutes earlier with a pot of the best damned decaffeinated coffee he had ever tasted. She was seated at his desk now, scanning his computer screen. Like the friend and helper she had always been, she noted his discomfort, but chose to distract him rather than call his attention to it.

“Well,” she said slowly, “there was considerable organic brain dysfunction due to oxygen deprivation.”

“In medical terms, then, he’s a vegetable.”

“Not quite. Massive motor dysfunction, recurring nightmares. Memory impairment. Mental level of a ten-year-old, maybe.”

Alex tsk’d. “And the final notes, on his computer at the time?”

“How did you know to ask that?” Millicent said suspiciously, scanning the newsfax. “It was a call to arms, asking his followers to stand one hundred percent behind the Barsoom Project.”

“Isn’t that interesting.”

“Fascinating. There’s no suggestion here that it might be fake if that’s what you were wondering. Even more interesting is the fact that he’s too sick to leave the country right now. This clinic in La Mesa-doesn’t Vail work out of there?”

“A few hours a month.” Alex smiled warmly. The nagging pain had him feeling vicious. “I’m certain that Fekesh will get the very best of care.”

“Cowles owns a share of the clinic.”

“I’m not surprised at all.”

“And recently acquired an interest in Fekesh’s elevator repair company. Jesus, Alex, I don’t know who scares me more: you or Vail!”

“No need to see conspiracy in every little coincidence. Diversification is the wave of the future.”

Millicent joined Griffin by the window, sat so close that their knees were touching. “Griff, how much did you have to do with this?”

“Absolutely nothing.” His face was all innocence… until something slipped. “I only opened the box. And all these things flew out.” He looked inside him for the guilt, and found none. Even so- “I don’t imagine I’ll ever open that box again.”

He wondered if she’d pursue it. He was being judged. Alex wondered what verdict he would have rendered. He’d been on painkillers, but he’d been lucid enough when he went to the magicians… when he turned Izumi and Khresla and Welles and, God help him, Vail loose.

She said, “And what were you doing on the night of June seventeenth?”

The lobster dinner? “The same thing I was doing on the night of June twenty-fifth.”

She smiled. “That’s tonight.”

“Hope springs eternal.”

He could see her shoulders relaxing. “What hope was that?”

“Finishing dinner with my beautiful ex-secretary.”

“Who was much too good for you.”

“Correction. Was much too good to be my secretary.”

“Ah-ha.”

Her fingers touched a file folder on his desk, and a fingernail flicked it open. In it was a picture of Marty. “Poor Marty.”

Alex’s attempt at good humor faded. “Nobody intended it. Vail swears he had nothing to do with it. I swear it, Millie.”

“Not a bite?”

“Hasn’t eaten for almost two weeks. If they force-feed him, he vomits. County put him on IVs, and Marty kept tearing them out of his arm. Legally, we can’t force him to eat.”

She shook her head. “Try the Dream Park diet,” she said. “Lose a pound a day, and never be hungry again.”

“Jesus,” Griffin said. “You’ve got a morbid streak, don’t you?”

Millicent shuddered. “Listen, maybe if one of the other Gamers talked to him-”

The outer office door opened, and a tall, slender man entered. He looked a little pale and wan, but the smile was genuine.

“Griffin,” he said, cautiously extending his hand. “You kept your promise.”

“Tony McWhirter, you kept yours,” Alex said. “You’re on work furlough, loaned to the municipality of Dream Park. Ah-as the duly elected Sheriff of Dream Park, I tell you that you are restricted to within two kilometers of this office-” Alex’s voice softened. “The only other restriction is that you make up for lost time, Tony.”

The two men faced each other, looking uncomfortable. Tony looked around the room. And through the external windows, around the Park.

The Barsoom Project was gone. Dream Park was alight again, ready for the public. It wore its public face. Dream Park was bright and beautiful and flashy.

“I feel… so strange,” Tony said. “I can’t believe that you’re giving me a chance like this.”

“You’ve panned out,” Griffin said. “Let’s start over again. I want you here, in Security. Meantime, until we know exactly what the situation is, you’ll stay in CMC, with full protection. Just in case.”

“Appreciate that.”

McWhirter nodded to Millicent. His eyes lingered on her until he suddenly flushed with embarrassment. He left the office hurriedly.

Millicent watched him go. “Could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Yeah,” Alex sighed. “Based on honesty and trust.”

“Based on fantasy,” she said.

“Not the worst place to start,” he said.

His arm stole around her.

It wasn’t his fault. None of the death, the deception, the injury surrounding the Barsoom Project, and the past of Cowles Industries, had been his fault. But his aching back and bruised ribs, and the sight of Tony’s hollow face, had reminded him that it was all his responsibility. He had done the best he could. And he had to believe Vail.

Vail just couldn’t have reached into Marty’s head somehow, and twisted…

He thought of Kareem Fekesh in La Mesa, and of Vail’s loving ministrations, and shivered.

He had to let it go. If he could just manage to live with himself for another week or so, maybe he could go on, and do his job.

He felt heavy, and old, and tired.

Millicent kissed him gently on the cheek. “You know what let’s do?” she said softly.

“What?”

“Let’s sign up, the two of us, as partners in that Shipwreck Game next week.” She paused. “I wouldn’t mind being your girl Friday again.”

“A whole week’s Game?”

“Tropical sun, digging for turtle eggs, exploring semi-extinct volcanoes for treasure..

“I don’t know. I’m damned busy.”

She punched him in the good side. “I happen to know that you’ve got three weeks accumulated vacation. Harmony would give you three more without a blink. Refuse me and I’ll have Vail give you a psychiatric suspension.”

“On what grounds?”

She turned his head with palms that were warm and soft. Her lips parted slightly as she pressed them against his. “You’d be crazy to turn me down.”

He laughed. Not a large laugh, but it held promise, the first glimpse of sunlight through storm clouds. It was going to be all right. As long as he had friends like Millicent and Harmony, he could survive anything.

They held each other and watched the front gates open. The crowds would marvel at the effects and immerse themselves in the adventures. For a time they would lose their minds, and most would be the better for it. But if they knew what lay behind the magic…

That one question, at least, he could answer. Most people don’t really want to see the strings, don’t want to see what lurks behind the mirrors. They need dreams. Need magic. Always have.

Alex couldn’t hear the sounds of laughter, of gaiety and excitement, couldn’t see the individual smiles of anticipation. But he could see the flow, the tide of life as it streamed once more into the streets of Dream Park.

We are the Magicians, Griffin reminded himself proudly. We bring the dream to We.

And we’re the only ones who can.