CHAPTER 5
Enderton sat me down on his unmade bed and dragged a chair over so that we sat staring at each other, a couple of feet apart.
"The woman." He had no knife or other weapon, but I knew that with those hands he did not need one. "Who is she, and why did you bring her to my room?"
I quailed, and told him. I explained that Doctor Eileen Xavier was an old friend of the family, who never mentioned in advance that she was coming to see Mother. There had been no chance to warn him.
After I had said that I just kept going, blurting out anything and everything I knew about Doctor Eileen. All the time that I was babbling he sat fidgety in his seat, never still. I saw his eyes flickering from me, to the window where the silent snow was still falling, to the locked door, to the odd skeleton of blue struts that faced out across the lake. He was drinking, too, replenishing a dirty glass with colorless liquid from an unlabeled bottle.
"She saw too much," he said, when I was finished. He wiped his mouth with his grubby hand. "If I thought that she might . . . The question is, will she talk? Where does she live?"
"South of here, along the lake shore just past Toltoona. Doctor Eileen's not one for talking." Except to Mother, I felt like adding, but instead I said, "What do you mean, she saw too much?"
He stared at me for a long time, while I hardly dared to breathe. "Well," he said at last. "It's like this, Jay."
There was a quietness to his voice that I had never heard before, as he went on, "You're a smart lad, and conscientious, and I've come to rely on you a lot in these past weeks. And I've been good to you, or tried to, and I hope you know it. But I'd like to be better yet. Because I can see the day coming, not too many years from now, when Jay Hara will be known as the finest spacer that ever lifted off Erin. And when that day comes, I'd like Jay Hara to be able to say that him and Paddy Enderton were friends, and partners."
I didn't know how to answer, what with the insincerity oozing out of every pore of his big, sweaty face. But I didn't have to speak, because he had another spasm of coughing, then went on, "Partners, is it then? You and me. I'll treat you like a partner, too. There isn't a boy on Erin, and few men off it, who've seen and heard what I'm going to show and tell you now. Come look at this, Jay."
He got to his feet and walked across to the blue tubes by the window. They seemed too few and too simple to do anything at all, but while I watched Enderton fiddled with the array for a moment, lining up a pair of struts. Then he flipped a switch on one side and said, "Look into the eyepieces." He handed me a pair of ice-cold tubes not attached to anything else.
I did, and it was magic. I was seeing Muldoon Spaceport, its domes and launch towers and boost grids like fairy castles, the thin metal trellises covered with a sparkling layer of white snow.
Except that it couldn't be. The port was ten miles or more away, on the other side of the lake.
I lifted my head and stepped to the window. The wind was rising now and snow was falling harder than ever, traveling almost horizontally past the house. I couldn't even see as far as the lake shore before everything was swallowed up in a haze of white.
"That isn't really Muldoon Port, is it?"
"It is." Enderton flipped another switch. "Try again."
It was the same thing, much closer. Now a single dome stood in the field of view, elevators rising up its side.
"But how does it see through the snow, when we can't?"
"I don't know, but it isn't a problem. Not for this little beauty." He threw another switch. "Try it now."
This time I was close enough to watch people on the roof of a dome, hurrying about with their heads hooded against the snow. And with that view, I had an awful thought. I had been sailing across to Muldoon Port, but once there I hadn't done much searching for Enderton's two-half-man. Instead I had warmed a chair in the launch lounge, listening to spacer tales.
And all the time, he had been able to sit back here and watch me! Except that I suddenly realized that maybe he hadn't. The scene was cropped at the bottom, and I could not see anything less than fifteen feet above the ground. It was the curve of Erin's surface, putting anything at ground level below the horizon and out of sight; it meant that although Enderton could see much of the activity at Muldoon Port, people would be invisible unless they happened to be high in the buildings.
Enderton must have mistaken my relief for amazement. He nodded, and said, "Now you know how to watch launches in comfort. That's what I've been doing, these past few days. And I think we're coming close to Winterfall."
Thanks to my trips to Muldoon Port I knew what he was talking about. Before Winterfall, the spacer crews that planned to come home at year-end from scavenging the Forty Worlds sent word ahead to Muldoon Spaceport. And as soon as all those returning crews had been safely ferried down from their deep space ships, Winterfall would be complete. The port would enter its quiet period of deep winter, as the crews left Muldoon and dispersed. Most would head away from the lake toward Skibbereen and the bigger towns to the east, but each year, a few spacers came our way, around the lake to its western shore.
"Can you see Toltoona as well?" I asked. The town was much closer, so no curve of Erin's surface would save me.
But even before he swiveled the setting, I knew the answer. Miraculous as the instrument was at seeing through falling snow, it did not look through walls. And Toltoona was mostly buildings, blocking off the view of streets and squares and the insides of inns and stores.
"How would you like to own something like this?" Enderton asked me, as I peered into the cold eyepieces and confirmed my thought about Toltoona.
"Own it? It must cost a fortune."
"It would—if there was any place to buy it. There isn't." He took the eyepieces from my hand, and led me back to my seat. "This telecon is pure space technology. It will be yours, if you'll help me a bit more. See, I must know who's at Muldoon come Winterfall. I'm nearly ready, but I must have a few more clear days."
"Ready for what?"
"Ready to head out." His eyes flickered to the window. "I mean, ready to head out west of here. Does that doctor of yours ever go over to Muldoon Port?"
"Never. Her patients are all west and north of us."
"That's good. But tomorrow and the day after, you have to sail over to Muldoon and keep an eye on things. Until Winterfall it's more important to do that than worrying about Toltoona."
It was the worst possible time to have to tell him, but I had no choice.
"Mr. Enderton, I can't sail across in weather like this. It's winter, and the lake winds are too strong. The boat nearly turned over twice yesterday."
"Can't sail, eh?" he growled, and his face was turning red. "Won't is more like it." His fingers began to twitch, and the look in his eyes petrified me. I had to keep talking.
"Do I really need to go over there? I mean, if I sat all day with the telecon"—I pointed to the super-telescope over by the window—"I could watch everything that goes on at Muldoon Port."
"You can't see ground level. I've tried often enough. The curve of the planet cuts off the view. It won't do, Jay Hara."
He was standing up, stepping toward me. Driven by desperation, I had the idea that I think killed Paddy Enderton.
"From here you can't see it," I said. "But the water tower that serves Toltoona is only a few minutes walk away. It's high. There's a ladder leading up it, and a balcony all the way round. If I was to go up there with your telecon, I bet I'd see Muldoon all the way to ground level."
Even as I spoke, I knew it was an awful suggestion. I was volunteering to climb the giddy height of the tower—I'd done it once before, in summer, for a bet—and then sit in the freezing cold, for who knew how long, peering across Lake Sheelin at the goings-on in Muldoon Port. It was hardly better than its alternative—the blind rage and murderous hands of Paddy Enderton.
He stared at me. "Maybe. Maybe." But I think he was talking more to himself than to me. He went across to his storage chest, opened it, and pulled out a flat black oblong, small enough to fit in his palm. "Three days," he muttered, after he had prodded and poked at a few places on its upper surface. "Aye, that would do it."
He sat down again. "I have to take a look at Muldoon myself, from the top of that tower. Then we'll see."
I thought for one ghastly moment that he was proposing we climb the tower then and there, heaving our way up the bare metal ladder in driving snow. But he had sunk in on himself, hands tight around the mug of liquor, and was ignoring me.
Or almost so. When I began to ease my way across toward the door, he was suddenly up and blocking my path more quickly than I would have thought possible.
"What are you going to tell the doctor and your mother about what we've been saying to each other?" His face was inches from mine.
"Nothing." It didn't need a genius to know the right answer. "Not a word."
He reached out, and I thought he was going to grab me again. But all he did was pat my shoulder, and mutter, "Good lad. Off you go, then. And when it stops snowing, you'll show me that water tower."
I was allowed to escape. As I left, I realized that I had found something much more dangerous than sailing across any winter lake. Soon I would be perched on the top of a high tower with Paddy Enderton. An angry Paddy Enderton. A drunk Paddy Enderton. A Paddy Enderton who, if he didn't like what he saw when we got up there . . .
I hurried downstairs. And not before time, because I was shivering. Enderton's room had been freezing, cold enough to make me tremble all over. Except that I noticed, half an hour after I had parked myself next to the warm kitchen stove, that my shaking still had not stopped.
* * *
Looked at from the bottom, the tower rose forever into the afternoon sky. From the top, as I knew from experience, it would seem even taller.
And I was supposed to scale this monster carrying a quarter of my own weight in equipment on my back. The telecon was marvelous, but it was not light. The only thing I could say was that Paddy Enderton was bowed under a load at least as heavy as mine.
One hundred and forty-eight rungs in the ladder. I knew that from my previous time up. After seventy rungs a little ledge would allow us to stop and take a breather. Then came the longer haul to the top, in one continuous effort.
I placed my gloved hands on the first rung, and began to climb. It had been Enderton's threat that had prevented me mentioning to Mother what we would be doing, but suddenly I was glad that I hadn't. She would have been terrified— almost as terrified as I felt now.
We had agreed that I would go first, and remain on the ledge until Enderton was within ten rungs of me. Then I would start up the rest of the way, while he took a breather.
I reached the ledge all right, but once there I found that I dared not look down to see how far he had climbed. Instead I stared far out across the slate-grey surface of Lake Sheelin, to the distant domes and towers of Muldoon Port. Yesterday's snow had ended in late afternoon, and now there was bright sun and just a breath of wind. I wished I were down there, sailing across the lake.
It was cold. We had waited until afternoon, when the sun would be in the best position for seeing Muldoon, and the temperature at its highest. Still my breath was icy vapor, freezing in the air as I exhaled. I was well swaddled in warm clothes, and as long as I kept moving only my cheeks and the tip of my nose felt chilled. But what about the hours I proposed to spend perched on top of the tower, peering into the telecon?
If I didn't fall to death, I was going to freeze to death.
At the moment of that thought I felt a tap on my ankle, and heard Enderton's impatient, creaking voice, "Get on with it. What are you waiting for?"
I glanced down at him, which was a big mistake. He was right underneath me, waiting for his turn on the ledge. Below him, spread out like toys, were buildings and roads and hedges and fields. It seemed impossible that our house could appear so small, from just halfway up the water tower.
To fight my panic, I started to climb as fast as I could. Too fast. It was only when I slipped a rung with my left foot, and hung for a moment by just my hands, that I slowed to a more sensible pace. I could hear my own breath, loud in my throat. But soon the round bulk of the water tank loomed above me.
And finally I was there, sprawled on the balcony and recovering my wind. Only then did I realize that I could hear Enderton's gasping breath, too, far below me.
It was obvious. Take a man whose lungs had already been damaged by space and by an accident. Place him in air so cold that even healthy Jay Hara felt the killing chill in the depths of his chest. And then make that man climb a hundred-foot tower with a load of equipment lashed to his back.
Enderton would never reach the top. He would weaken and fall. For a moment I hoped he would, but then I nerved myself to start back down and help him. At least I had to look down and see where he was. Before I could do it, the ladder below me was creaking, and a faint, hoarse voice said, "Grab it. Lift the pack. Or I'm done for."
I leaned out over the edge. There was one dizzying glimpse of the far-off ground, and a random thought—Ridiculous. I want to be a spacer, and I'm scared of heights!—and then I focused all my attention on Paddy Enderton. He was a few rungs below me, clinging to the ladder. His usually pale face wore a tinge of unnatural purplish-blue. His backpack of equipment, hooked around his great shoulders, was just close enough for me to grab the top straps, and hoist. Twenty seconds later we were lying head to head, panting and shuddering on the narrow balcony at the top of the water tower.
Paddy Enderton had his faults—more of them than I knew at the time—but lack of willpower was not on the list. While I still thought that he was dying he was heaving himself upright, gazing across the lake towards Muldoon Port.
"Ah," he said. "Ah." His breath was a series of short, rattling gasps, enough for only brief, jerky speech fragments. "Right enough. Muldoon. Maybe. Maybe."
He gestured to me to help him, and began taking parts of the telecon from our packs. In his shaking hands the tubes seemed to join themselves. The skeleton was assembled in a couple of minutes, while I did nothing but sit and watch.
Last of all, Enderton lifted the twin eyepieces. He peered into them, out across the lake. And then he gave a whistling groan, as though all the air had gone from his lungs at once.
"It happened," he said. "Happened already. I'm a dead man."
He leaned back against the bulk of the water tank and laid the eyepieces on the balcony. I grabbed them and lifted them to my own eyes, their metal rims freezing cold against my unprotected face.
Muldoon Port was clearly visible, all the way to the ground as I had suggested. From the despairing tone in Enderton's voice I had almost expected the two-half-man to spring into view, a man without arms carrying a legless one on his back. But there was nothing unusual about Muldoon Port. It was quiet and peaceful, with only a handful of people walking between the buildings. Then I realized that was unusual. When I had last been there the port had hummed with life; now it was almost empty.
Winterfall. It had been and gone.
I was still staring when Enderton grabbed the viewing tubes from me again and rotated the assembly. From the direction that he pointed I knew what he must be doing. He was following the shore line, tracking the road leading out of Muldoon Port around the southern end of the lake toward Toltoona.
"Nothing to see," he muttered after a few seconds. "But nothing means nothing. They'll know how to follow. They'll be on the way. It could be any time."
Again the eyepieces were laid on the balcony, while Enderton stood up and leaned dangerously over the rail. He stared, first south to Toltoona, then away in the opposite direction along the line of the lake.
"The shore road," he said abruptly. "How does it run north of here? Does it carry on right around?"
"Not close to the lake. It goes off west, then curves round to the Tullamore bridge. I've never been there, but it's on Doctor Eileen's rounds. She says it gets just about impossible in deep snow."
Enderton said not another word, but he grabbed the telecon, took it apart, and stuffed all the pieces that we had both struggled to carry up into one backpack. I didn't see any way that a single person could manage the whole thing. It was only when he set his foot on the first step of the ladder that I realized we weren't going to.
"The telecon!" I said.
"Safe enough up here." He was already three rungs down. "It's yours. You can get it any time you fancy. Come on."
I had no idea what he was doing, but I didn't want to stay on top of that water tower a second longer than necessary. The sun was low in the sky, a north wind was rising, and the air was becoming colder and colder. I took a last look at the precious telecon, sitting wedged on the balcony, then hefted my empty backpack and followed him. I didn't look at anything, and especially I didn't look down. But I could hear Enderton below me, wheezing and muttering.
"Can't be north, and can't be Toltoona. They'll have the roads covered. Water, then. It has to be water."
I was counting the rungs as we went down. After seventy-eight we were again at the ledge. Enderton did not stop this time to rest on it, and nor did I. At the hundred and thirtieth rung I paused and finally risked a glance down. He was almost at the bottom, his face purple-red and his every breath a groan.
I kept going, and soon my boots were crunching into deep snow. I felt a giddy sense of relief and safety. Within a moment it was gone, because Paddy Enderton had me by the arm. He was leaning against me for support, but at the same time he was dragging me down the hill—away from the house.
"You're going the wrong way," I protested, and tried to pull free.
"No. The only way." His fingers tightened around my biceps, hard enough to hurt. "We're sailing across the lake, Jay."
"We can't. In another half hour it will be dark." And then, when he ignored that, "What about your things back at the house?"
"I have all I need." He patted his pocket. "No more talk. You take me. Tonight."
"Mother doesn't know where I am. I can't do it."
"If you want to live, you can. Or do you think Molly Hara would prefer a dead son? It's your choice." He reached with his free hand into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a thin-bladed knife. "You sail me to Muldoon Port, Jay Hara. Tonight. Or I cut your throat here and now, and take my chances sailing across by myself."