What Might Have Happened Part 10

"Why should I?"

"To know that, at a certain level, nothing you do with your life really matters . . . that you're only responding to these biological imperatives. Taking advantage of-what did you call it?- the confluence of events." She shuddered. "Charlie will hate this." With some of the tension bled out of their conversation, Shelby apparently felt it was safe to mention Holder.

"Don't kid yourself, Shel. Your Charlie will love this. What businessman wouldn't want to know the future?"

"You don't know him at all, Gene. He wants to believe that he can change the future. In many ways, he's a lot like one of those Great Men. He has ideas, big ideas. He wants the South to be more than it is. He thinks we've become rigid and calcified- "

"He's right about that. But I never got the idea that he had just the solutions to everyone's problems. Great." "It's one of the reasons I love him, Gene."

"Do you really? Or do you, dear sister, just love the idea that you've done what you were raised to do: caught yourself a great man?"

"I think I should leave." She stood up.

"I'm glad you came. By the way-" She was waiting at the door. There were tears in her eyes, of sadness or defiance he didn't know. He pulled a small package out of his desk. He'd bought it weeks earlier, not knowing when or if he would have the opportunity to deliver it. "It's a week late . . . Happy birthday."

Shelby took it, but she did not thank him.

The federal "world" was located at D.C.D.'s Decatur site in a little-used warehouse off-limits to all but a few personnel-"deep, dark government work" was the rumored reason. It worked so well that Gene grew to wonder just how much deep, dark government work the company had done in the past. Nevertheless, he controlled access . . . which was why, on his way into the building the next day, he was so surprised to find Holder coming out.

The man was shameless. He shouldn't have been within miles of the place, but all he had to say was, "Playing hooky from Emory, I see."

"Once a week, whether I need to or not," Gene said, as furious at himself for showing his anger as he was at Holder. "How the h.e.l.l did you get in there?"

Holder smiled. "When I was going to law school I worked here one summer as a security guard. Relax, Gene, as far as anyone at D.C.D. is concerned I'm tied up with a libel action in Pine Mountain. No one is going to kick you out of your sandbox."

"Have you seen enough? Or would you like an official tour?" He flashed his badge at the guard, a man Holder's age whose name Gene didn't know, who would, if Gene had his way, be working somewhere else at this time tomorrow.

"Love to." As they breached the innermost door, Holder said quietly, "Don't be too hard on old Matthew-" The guard. "-I made it impossible for him to keep me out." One gentleman to another. Holder had just made it impossible for Gene to punish the guard.

The federals lived in what always struck Gene as the world's biggest ant colony-a gla.s.s- roofed chamber the size of a rounders court, over which Stashower and his colleagues hovered like angels on high, their cameras and telescopes trained on heaven's floor. "Incredible," Holder said. "It's just incredible."

Holder seemed genuinely impressed, which pleased and disgusted Gene. "Well, Charlie, there never would have been a link between Deconstruction and the federals if not for you."

To Gene's greater annoyance, Holder didn't deny it. "It was pure blind luck. Did I tell you?

My first job at the firm was handling insurance forms for D.C.D. I amused myself by reading some of the resumes and personnel files. That's how I learned that you were the key man on Deconstruction." Oblivious to Gene's growing outrage, Holder went on to deliver the final blow: "In fact, that's how I learned that you had a sister at Bradley."

By now Gene was so used to creating scenarios that they came to him unbidden. He didn't like the one being created for him now . . . this Confederate hustler using his past connections and purloined material to uncover people's secrets . . . seeking Gene out in order to make him do his bidding . . . and worst of all, cultivating his own sister in order to forge a connection between them. What else did Holder know?

Holder nodded toward Stashower and the others. "Your boys seem to like looking through the scopes." "They've convinced themselves the federals have 'cities' and 'fields.' I think they just enjoy playing microcosmic G.o.d." Gene had looked once and only found the action blurred to incomprehensibility. When he could look at all, that is. In the accelerated life of a federal, one "day" lasted two seconds, and the constant flickering of the "sun" gave Gene a headache. "But, then, they're not the only ones."

Holder laughed out loud. "Come on, Gene. I'm not that manipulative!"

When Gene offered no comment, Holder lowered his voice and said, "Look, you're gong to come out of this a happy man. When the hoys on thirty-four see what you've got here, they'll be on you like a duck on a June bug."

"a.s.suming they don't already know."

"So far I've managed to refrain from enlightening them . . . much as I'd love to. This one belongs to Gene Tyler."

"How will I ever thank you?"

Holder couldn't miss the sarcasm; he hesitated just long enough to let Gene know he hadn't.

"You'll find a way." Then, back in the country-club mode, he slapped Gene on the back. "Got to run." Over his shoulder, he called, "When am I going to see you at Shel's?"

"He's using you," he said.

Shelby blushed. "You know, Gene, a simple 'h.e.l.lo' would be nice. Do you like the couch?"

They had just sat down in the tiny living room of Shelby's flat.

"Forget the couch, Shel. I'm telling you, you don't have any idea what kind of monster you're involved with."

"You're making this awfully difficult."

"Blame it on your Charlie. Your 'great man.' "

He was hurting her; he knew it. "Shel-" He reached for her, but she s.h.i.+ed away.

"Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry. But I can't just let this happen. This man has . . . lied his way into our lives all because he wants what my project can give him. It's power he's after, Shel-"

"Oh, Gene, grow up!" She was facing him now. "You've been searching for months to drive a wedge between Charlie and me. You couldn't do it with sweet reason, so now it's because of your nasty little project." She was angrier now than Gene had ever seen. "Are you sure that's what the real problem is?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

Shelby stared at him. "I know more about you than you think I do. ..."

Oh, Christ, he thought. No.

"Gene, I'm not going to judge you. I love you. I know you had a much more difficult time with Daddy than I did. Whom you love is your business-"

"Shelby, stop this. You sound like some radio mentalist."

"Well, you chose not to share this secret with me, so I'm probably going to say this all wrong." There was a surprising amount of sarcasm in her voice, and for a moment Gene realized that he had underestimated her will. "I don't know anything about a world in which men go with other men. I can't even picture it," she said, no doubt picturing it all too vividly, as Gene had often pictured Shelby with some man. Who was it who said you can't be intimidated by people once you see them naked and on their knees? "But what I see is that you're jealous."

"This is ridiculous." It was his turn to recoil from her. He got up from the couch and looked for his jacket. "Is it? Then prove it to me. Because until you do, I have to a.s.sume that you're acting like this because you want Charlie for yourself."

Before she finished he was out the door.

He stayed late in his office that night preparing the doc.u.ment about Holder. It was easier than he thought it would be. His familiarity with the D.C.D. data system allowed him greater access to its personnel files-and those of its captive law firm-than any clerk could achieve. All of it, the resume, the D.C.D. background search (quite secret; gentlemen did not check up on the claims of gentlemen), evaluations, ancillary materials from a financial inst.i.tution with ties to D.C.D., all integrated with Gene's perceptions of Holder's personality traits, combined in one "character"

who could be put through the Deconstruction model.

The program ran to completion in less than ten minutes and the translation only took another hour, but Gene couldn't bring himself to read it for much longer than that.

Just as he suspected. The marriage would go well for a year, until Shelby produced an heir. (If Shelby did not get pregnant, this phase was merely extended by a year or so.) Holder would be a partner by then. He would also have become, again, a patron of the more reputable houses of pleasure, having given them up upon announcement of the engagement. He would dote on the child, boy or girl, and would encourage Shelby's work in social causes, charities, whatnot, but she would be required to have at least a second child, while Holder would run for his first office-something in the state legislature. . . .

Within ten years Holder would be governor; within fifteen, senator or higher. He would campaign for contract rights, and, given reasonable a.s.sumptions concerning demographics and economic growth, and the lack of major wars, he would be successful-for the male undercla.s.s of the Confederacy.

But what of Shelby? She and women like her would receive none of this largesse. It was too ingrained in the Confederate culture, where archaic antebellum att.i.tudes about women were hardened and set for all time by the forty-year Occupation. It was commonly thought that, for the Confederacy, Lincoln had died too late. Now Gene knew that for the Shelbys of the world-who never had the chance to become real people-Lincoln died too soon.

It was early the next morning when he found the nerve to call her. "You'll notice I'm saying 'h.e.l.lo' this time."

"h.e.l.lo, Gene." He could hear the relief in her voice. He tried not to wonder if Holder was by her side. "I-"

"Don't say anything," he told her. "Just meet me at the Atrium at once."

He had the data folded and resting by his plate when Shelby came in. She seemed genuinely happy to see him. "I've felt so awful because I didn't thank you for the present!" she said, as if their last discussion had never happened.

"That's all right. I was being a beast."

They pa.s.sed a quarter of an hour in small talk. News of Gene, Jr. Plans for the wedding. "I'm glad you mentioned the wedding," Gene said.

She grew quiet. "Charlie and me?"

"You said you wanted proof." He had his hand on the printout. Shelby stared at it.

"I suppose that's it. My future life?"

"One of your future lives." She held out her hand. He pa.s.sed the paper to her. She looked at it without unfolding it. "How strange-to hold your life in your hand."

"Read it."

"I'd rather not."

"Shel-" He cleared his throat. "I guess I was just thinking about . . . what you could be."

She set the paper aside. "I'm sorry for what I said about you and Charlie."

"Frankly, my dear, he's not my type."

Shelby blushed in disbelief. Enjoying her embarra.s.sment, Gene leaned back in his chair. His eyes roamed around the Atrium and found one of the busboys, a husky contractee. "I like men,"

he found himself saying, amazingly relieved, "from the lower cla.s.ses. Much darker than Charlie."

Shelby glanced at the busboy, then looked at Gene. For a moment they were children again, sharing a secret they could keep from Daddy. "Do you ever want to change? To want women?"

"I used to. But, you know, Shel, I don't think I can." Suddenly she had won. Gene wanted to laugh. This Great Man business was fine for the history books, even those yet unwritten, but what could it possibly mean to someone with a wayward child? An old man dying of cancer? A woman in love? Tell them they can't change their futures? That they are nothing more than mules in horses' harness? You might as well kill them.

"I'm sorry, Shel. I really am. I've been a real s.h.i.+t about this. Maybe we can just start over. ..."

Her face showed equal parts triumph and terror. She reached for his hand. "Yes." Then she sat back, crumpled the paper, and tore it in half. "I should go."

"I'll see you soon."

"At Daddy's next week?"

"Don't push your luck, Shel." Then, with a smile, she was gone.

"Would you like me to get rid of that for you?" the waiter said, nodding toward the crumpled printout.

"Yes," Gene said. "Throw it away."

The waiter scooped it up along with the plates and walked off. Gene remembered that there was a place on Beecher Road where like-minded gentlemen could meet for a bit of excitement.

He looked at his watch. The staff meeting wouldn't take place until four. He had plenty of time.

Lenin in Odessa

GEORGE ZEBROWSKI.

"Lenin is a rotten little incessant intriguer. . . . He just wants power. He ought to be killed by some moral sanitary authority."

-H. G. WELLS.

(Letter dated July 1918, sent to the New York Weekly Review)

1.

In 1918, Sidney Reilly, who had worked as a British agent against the Germans and j.a.panese, returned to our newly formed Soviet Russia. He was again working for England and her allies, but this time he was also out for himself, intending to a.s.sa.s.sinate Vladimir Ilyich Lenin and bring himself to power at the head of the regime that he imagined his homeland deserved.

Jew though he was, Reilly saw himself as a Russian coming home to make good. It angered him that another expatriot, Lenin, had gotten there first-with German help, and with what Reilly considered suspect motives. Reilly was convinced that his own vision was the proper response to the problems of life in Russia, which, as Sigmund Rosenblum, a b.a.s.t.a.r.d born in Odessa, he had escaped in his youth. He believed that the right man could, with sufficient thought and preparation, make of history his own handiwork.

It was obvious to me that Reilly's thinking was a curious patchwork of ideas, daring and naive at the same time, but lacking the systematic approach of a genuine scientific philosophy. His distaste for the bourgeois society that had oppressed him in his childhood was real, but he had developed a taste for its pleasures.

Of course, Reilly knew that he was sent in as a tool of the British and their allies, who opposed Bolshevism from the outset, and he let them continue to think that they could count on him, for at least as long as his aims would not conflict with theirs. Lenin himself had been eased back into Russia by the Germans, who hoped that he would take Russia out of the war in Europe.