The Blackbird

Twenty-Eight

Grofield stood at the window of his room in the Chateau Frontenac, frowning at the walls outside. “The United States Government is very cheap, Ken,” he said. “They wouldn’t even spring for a room with a view.”

Ken said, “Never mind the view. Let’s finish your statement.”

Grofield turned away from the window. “It is finished,” he said. “The cargo plane took off, the Russian planes shot it down, Vivian and I went over to the lodge and found that everybody still alive had been locked up in rooms on the second floor. We let them out and they radioed their pilot down in Roberval and we all came home. Three of the government heads had been killed in the fighting, Colonel Rahgos of Undurwa and two others. I’m sorry, I didn’t get their names or countries.”

“We’ll find out eventually. Are you sure these were Russian planes? Did you see any markings?”

“Vivian told me they were Migs, that’s all I know. They didn’t get low enough to see markings.”

Ken nodded, and glanced at his notes. “You’re lucky that bunch decided to bring you back and not leave you up there with a bullet in your head.”

“Vivian was on my side,” Grofield said. “And we didn’t tell them I was the one who killed the four Americans. The whole operation was a bust anyway, so they didn’t have anything to gain by killing me.” Grofield stretched hugely and hugely yawned. “You may not believe this, buddy of my life,” he said, “but I am tired. Why don’t you go away now, and if you have any more questions write them out on a slip of paper and shove them under the door? Or somewhere.”

“This should do it,” Ken said, and got to his feet. “I must admit I’d thought you’d run out on us, Grofield.”

“I must admit I would have liked to,” Grofield said.

“Well, you came through. You’re a free agent from now on, we’re pulling out. You have this room paid for till Monday anyway, if you want it.”

“I’ll probably sleep till then.”

“Do that. I expect we’ll have to wait till spring to go up there and look for those canisters. We’ll find them, though.”

“Wonderful,” Grofield said, and yawned again.

“Well, I’ll let you get some sleep.” Ken stuck his hand out. “We do appreciate it,” he said.

Grofield looked at the hand in astonishment, but then took it, mostly because if he did Ken’s ritual with him maybe then Ken would leave. “If you ever need me again,” he said, “I want you to know you’ll have to blackmail me.”

Ken chuckled, and left.

Grofield went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, and while the water was getting hot he stripped out of his clothes. He hadn’t had them off since first putting them on in the back of that truck a day and a half ago, and in the intervening time he’d done a lot of strenuous moving around.

A nice shower, and then sleep. He stepped into the tub and let the hot water roll over his body. The frozen north was just a dream, just a dream.

He walked back into the bedroom drying himself, and there was Vivian, sitting in the same chair. Grofield stood flat-footed, looking at her. “Oh, come on,” he said. “I’m tired.”

She was smiling. “Colonel Marba sent me down,” she said, “to express his appreciation for everything you’ve done for him.”

“Colonel Marba?”

“No one at home knows about Colonel Rahgos’s death yet,” she said, and the smile widened. “They’ll learn about it from his successor.”

“My best to Colonel Marba,” Grofield said, and went over to the bed and lay down and pulled the covers over himself.

She got up from the chair and came over to the bed and sat down beside him. “And I wanted to thank you, too,” she said. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

“Is that right.”

“And to tell you your room isn’t bugged any more. All the microphones are gone.”

He looked at her with renewed interest. “Is that right?”

Quite a while later, she said, “Remember the snotty thing I said to you the very first time I saw you?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

“Oh, that,” Grofield said. “That’s a common misconception. It has to do with a physiological difference between the races when flaccid.”

“So I see,” she said.

“But there’s no difference while operational,” Grofield explained.

“I love scientific men,” she said.