The Human Blend - Alan Dean Foster [82]
She looked away. “Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the most propitious analogy. But I can’t let go of this until I know what it’s all about, Whispr. I just can’t. No matter what Rudy or anyone else says.” She turned back to confront him. “If you want to give up on it, to back out now, I’ll understand. I’ll just have to proceed on my own and I won’t think any the worse of you.”
Startled to discover that his host thought of him as anything other than a piece of human flotsam that had washed up on the shores of her office seeking repair, he was slow to respond. When he finally did reply, all his confounded thoughts would allow him to stammer was, “Curiosity killed the cat.”
“Except for the ones who manage to find the mice.”
He stared down at her. “This really has nothing to do with subsist for you, does it? You could care less about whether that filament of misery floss is worth a million bucks or a million cents. You just want to know the why and where and how of it.”
“That’s right, Whispr.” She nodded solemnly. “Knowledge for knowledge’s sake.”
“I wish I had a dozen credits for every supposedly smart friend who lived by that philosophy. If we happen to find out that it’s worth a lot of money, you won’t mind then if I get all hungry and aggrand some for myself?”
Her smile returned. “I wouldn’t expect you to do otherwise. Does that mean you’re going to stick with this?”
“Oh, you can bet your right-so, but not here. If whoever’s trying to claim the thread is close enough to it to hop all over your friend, then they’re too close to it and to us. Anyway, as far as the thread is concerned he pretty much told you to forget he exists. He’s right when he indicates that when the foul folk are getting that close to you, it’s time to get out of town.” He looked once more toward the front door. “My gut tells me it’s time we do like he do.”
She was tentative but agreeable. “If you think we should base ourselves elsewhere for a while, then I guess I should follow your lead. This kind of thing is your area of expertise, not mine. Any suggestions?”
It made him feel disproportionately good to know that in one area, at least, his thought processes were working ahead of hers.
“I’ve heard there are some especially knowledgeable linkies in the outer Miavana area, working out of the waterlands west of the city. Your creaky guy-friend made noises about taking vacation time. How do you fancy a holiday?”
She considered. “It wouldn’t be as if we were taking off for India. Miavana’s not far. I could still keep in touch with my office and oversee ongoing treatment of my regular patients and …”
“Forget that, Ingrid.” He caught himself, surprised at his unexpected presumption. “Can I call you Ingrid?”
“You just did. If we’re going to try and follow up with this anonymously, you constantly calling me Dr. Seastrom might be a little counterproductive.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, but once we leave here you can’t have any contact with your office, your patients, this colleague of yours who got his face squared—no one. The Nasty who are after the thread have already shown themselves persistenters. You can bet wet that as soon as they’re onto you certain they’ll be monitoring every communications channel in Namerica that has your ident affixed to it.”
“I suppose you’re right. You’ll have to excuse me, Whispr. I’m kind of new to all this. Doctors are used to straightforwardness, not subterfuge.”
“Subterfuge is my life, or I wouldn’t have one.” He did not go into details. “We’ll go by rental. False names. I’ve got appropriate ident and I can fix you up with one fast. Money debited to new cards through double intermediaries so it can’t be traced.” His meld-slender form straightened. “See, there are all kinds of talent in this world, doc. Ingrid.”
“And plenty of operations of the nonsurgical kind, apparently.” She looked around the codo, wondering what kind of accommodations they would be able to manage surreptitiously. At least there would be no shortage of options in a tourist