Timeline - Michael Crichton [158]
So far.
Now Arnaut eyed him skeptically. “So: your friends know the location of this passage?”
“They do,” Marek said. “I swear it.”
“On your word, I have spared their lives,” Arnaut said. “Yours, and the word of this Lady, who vouches for you.” He gave a small nod to the Lady Claire, who allowed a faint smile to cross her lips.
“My Lord, you are wise,” Claire said, “for to hang one man may loosen the tongue of his friend who watches. But as often, it may harden his resolve, so that the friend takes his secret to the grave. And this secret is so important that I would your Lordship have it for certain in his grasp.”
“Then we will follow those two, and see where they lead.” He nodded to Marek. “Raimondo, see to this poor man’s mount. And provide him as escort two of your best chevaliers, as you follow behind.”
The handsome knight bowed. “My Lord, if it please you, I will accompany him myself.”
“Do so,” Arnaut said, “for there may yet be some mischief here.” And he gave the knight a significant look.
Meanwhile, Lady Claire had gone up to Marek and was pressing his hand warmly in both of hers. He felt something cool in her fingers, and realized it was a tiny dagger, barely four inches long. He said, “My Lady, I am greatly in your debt.”
“Then see you repay this debt, knight,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“I shall, as God is my witness.” He slipped the dagger under his robes.
“And I will pray to God for you, knight,” she said. She leaned over to kiss his cheek chastely. As she did, she whispered, “Your escort is Raimondo of Narbonne. He likes to cut throats. When he knows the secret, have a care he does not cut yours, and those of your friends, as well.” She stepped away, smiling.
Marek said, “Lady, you are too kind. I shall take your kind wishes to heart.”
“Good knight, God speed you safe and true.”
“Lady, you are always in my thoughts.”
“Good sir knight, I would wish—”
“Enough, enough,” Arnaut said in a disgusted voice. He turned to Raimondo. “Go now, Raimondo, for this surfeit of sentiment makes my stomach heave.”
“My Lord.” The handsome knight bowed. He led Marek to the door and out into the sunlight.
07:34:49
“I’ll tell you what the goddamn problem is,” Robert Doniger said, glaring at the visitors. “The problem is to bring the past alive. To make it real.”
There were two young men and a young woman, all slouching on the couch in his office. They were dressed entirely in black, wearing those pinch-shoulder jackets that looked like they’d shrunk in the wash. The men had long hair and the woman had a buzz cut. These were the media people that Kramer had hired. But Doniger noticed that today Kramer was sitting opposite them, subtly divorcing herself from them. He wondered if she had already seen their material.
It made Doniger irritable. He didn’t like media people anyway. And this was his second meeting with the breed today. He’d had the PR dipshits in the morning, now these dipshits.
“The problem,” he said, “is that I have thirty executives coming to hear my presentation tomorrow. The title of my presentation is ‘The Promise of the Past,’ and I have no compelling visuals to show them.”
“Got it,” one of the young men said crisply. “That was exactly our starting point here, Mr. Doniger. The client wants to bring the past alive. That’s what we set out to do. With Ms. Kramer’s help, we asked your own observers to generate sample videos for us. And we believe this material