Dayworld

Chapter 10

He zigzagged through the crowd, braked by the curb, kicked the stand, picked up the peel, and dropped it into a waste container. When he went back to the bike, he looked around. He did not see Rootenbeak and really did not expect to. There were other slobs besides Rootenbeak in Wednesday-if he was here. Nevertheless, he was shaken, and, as he pedaled away, he rebuked himself for his automatic action. He should not have stopped; he should have gone even faster.

At Thirtieth Street, he went up the ramp and rode until he came to the west side, the dark side, of the Thirteen-Principles Towers. The building, which was covered with solar panels, occupied the area bounded by Seventh, Fourth, Thirtieth, and Thirty-seventh. The main structure soared up to four thousand feet, and the thirteen towers along its perimeter added fourteen hundred feet. Tingle's office was near the top of the tower on the northwest corner at Seventh and Thirty-seventh.

After riding down the ramp to the parking room on the third subfloor, he took an elevator to the northwest main lobby. From there, he rode in the express to the level at the top of the main building. Then he took an elevator to his level in one of the towers.

While walking down the hall leading to his office, Tingle was distracted by the view through the tall and wide windows on his right. There were six mooring masts on the roof of the main building, three zeppelins socked into three masts, and a fourth glittering orange giant was easing its nose toward a mast. Tingle stopped to watch the thing of beauty and splendor.

There were powerful updrafts alongside this building, but the zeppelins came down past them into the relatively still air over the immense roof where they had no trouble maneuvering. Moreover, they needed no landing crews to pull on ropes dropped from the ship. The pilot had at his control twelve swivable jet engines that could counterbalance any wind-thrusts. Slowly, the ship approached the socket at the top of the mooring mast, and then its nose was locked.

Tingle would have liked to watch the stoned passengers, safe from accidents and tedium, packed in nets, lowered to trucks. A glance at his wristwatch showed him that it was almost time for his prework briefing with his boss. He entered the office anteroom, where the secretary sat at his desk. The secretary looked pained and mournful, as if he had a hangover. Tingle breezed by him, saying, "Good morning, Sally!"

Hearing only a grunt, Tingle called back, "Surly, Sally?"

The secretary said, "Good morning, Maha Tingle. Maha Paz is ... ',

"I know, I know. Eagerly, perhaps impatiently, waiting for me. Thank you."

The office was dome-shaped and elegantly furnished, like the man behind the desk. Welcome Vardhamana Paz rose to his full seven feet of stature. His glittering many-colored blouse and trousers strained to hold in a ball-shaped torso and mighty buttocks. Above three chins, sagging dewlaps, was a round head with a massive overhanging forehead. When he bowed and held his hands in a prayerful attitude, he gave the impression of laboring to lift his many rings. There were two on each finger, each ring bearing a massive diamond or emerald. The gold was fake, and thejewels were artificial, and Paz looked unreal to Tingle. That was probably because fat.. and misshapen people were so rare.

Tingle, after bowing, his hands held up before him and pressed together, said, "Good morning, chief."

"Good morning, Bob."

Paz lowered himself slowly and gently like a balloon losing hot air through a small leak. He told Tingle to take a chair, and he said, "For others it's a good morning. For you and me ..

"Twinkledigits," as he was called behind his back, waved his walrus-flipper hand. His face contorted as if he had eaten too many beans.

"I got the news about your troubles ... our troubles through our line."

Tingle shifted uneasily and looked around the room. He would feel very stupid if he asked Paz if the room had been debugged and a scrambler was operating. Of course, it had been and was. Also, three news strips were on, the volume a

Tingle moved the chair until his stomach cut into the edge of the desk, and he leaned forward.

"You heard from Tony?" he said.

"No. Someone else."

"Rootenbeak and Gril are not my concerns, not today. But Castor ... I suppose your informant told you how dangerous he is to us?"

His jowls flapping like sheets in a wind, Paz nodded.

"A certain high organic is looking for Castor. But he's handicapped because he can't do anything official as yet. If he had gotten official word from Tuesday that Castor was a daybreaker, he could act swiftly. But he'd have to kill Castor to prevent his arrest. We can't have him talking to the authorities."

Though Tingle was not supposed to know the name of the man Paz referred to, he did. His data bank researches, unauthorized by both today's government and the immer council, had revealed it.

"We must find Castor," Paz said.

"I'll work like a beaver on it," Tingle said.

"What're you smiling about?" "Nothing. Just a pun."

"Pun? What pun? This is no time for levity, Bob."

"The American beaver belongs to the genus Castor canadensis," Tingle murmured.

"What?"

"Never mind," Tingle said, speaking loudly. "Chief, I'll have to set up fake time on my work-hours report. But my immediate supervisor, Galore Piecework, is too zealous. She almost always checks on my report."

Paz frowned and said, "Galore Piecework?"

"Gloria Peatsworth. We underlings call her Galore Piecework."

Paz did not smile.

"I told you, Bob. Levity ..

". .. is a grave matter. I know, chief. Please forgive me."

Paz heave-sighed, and he said, "I'll take care of Peatsworth. But ... "

After a few seconds, Tingle said, "You've got even worse news?"

"You're very perceptive, Bob."

Paz sighed deeply again, and he said, "My informant told me that there's a Sunday organic here. A Detective-Major Panthea Pao Snick. She has a temporal visa, Bob. A temporal!"

"And it concerns us, of course. Otherwise, you'd not have mentioned her."

"I'm afraid so," Paz said. "From what my informant said-he wasn't able to get any details that would enlighten me- Snick's mission is so secret that only the commissioner-general knows what it's about. And maybe he doesn't know all. The commissioner's given orders that Snick's to get full cooperation. It sounds ominous. We have to find out what she's up to."

"She may not be here because of us."

Paz sighed again.

"I wish I could think so. Unfortunately, she's already asked about you. In fact, she wants to talk to you."

It would be impossible to be all-Tingle today. Tuesday would not stay silent. It demanded that Tingle at least be Jeff Caird's agent. That was all that Tingle was going to allow himself to be. Caird had to be regarded as someone who had temporarily employed Tingle to represent him in Wednesday.

Tingle said, "I may have to work overtime."

"I'll authorize it. No sweat."

Tingle gri

The reason given for overtime would be one more coverup. Lies bred lies, and their growing weight put immense stress on what they were supposed to ease.

Paz's cough sprang Tingle from his reveries. "Do you have anything to add?" Paz said. Tingle rose and said, "No. If that's all ..

"Yes. If anything important comes along, notify me."

"Of course."

Tingle was biting his lip when he left the office. As he walked down the corridor, he felt bladder pressure. Halfway down the corridor, he turned right into a doorway above which was a sign: P & S. The anteroom gave onto a large room with off-white pseudomarble walls, ceiling, and floor. On his left was a long row of urinals above each of which was a strip displaying news programs. On his right was a row of cubicles from which came the muted voices of newscasters and soap opera actors, the flushing of a toilet, and groans.