Lost Yesterday td-65 Read online

  But at Nassau they had to open their bags entering the Bahamas. The airport was hot, with signs for rum and entertainment on the walls. The light was Caribbean bright, like rhinestones under fluorescence, a bit too bright to feel natural for Americans.

  The customs inspector saw the fiberglass coating and politely inquired what it was. He had to be on the lookout for anyone bringing in narcotics or weapons.

  Rubin explained it was a gift for his good friends on the island, a new sort of material to make building houses easier.

  “A technology from outer space,” said Rubin.

  “Lay off that planet-Alarkin stuff or we'll both be in the slammer,” said Beatrice. She asked the customs inspector where they could buy suntan lotion and because he did such a good job with directions, gave him ten crisp hundred-dollar bills.

  “You are welcome with your invention from outer space to the Bahamas,” said the inspector.

  But Beatrice and Rubin did not stay on Nassau. They took a small charter aircraft to the island of Eleuthera, a long strip of coral and sand dotted by occasional beaches and many small villages with no more than two stores apiece. There could not be more than ten thousand people on the island, and a closer guess would have put it at three thousand.

  “Too many for the plan,” said Beatrice. “Too big. The people can make trouble.”

  Rubin looked over the map. He pointed to an even smaller island ten minutes by boat from Eleuthera. It was called Harbor Island, and it was famous for two miles of pink beaches and a “decency of people rare anywhere in the world.”

  “Good,” said Beatrice. “We can push them around.”

  “Or buy them,” said Rubin.

  “Why buy what you can bully?” said Beatrice.

  “It's easier on my nerves,” said Rubin.

  “Try another Percodan.”

  “I'm running low.”

  At Harbor Island the first part of the plan went into effect immediately. They purchased all the available hotel rooms. Then the call went out by phone, along the squeaky radiophone system, to all the Warriors of Zor.

  “We are safe. We are here. Join us.”

  And the call went out to all the franchises.

  “Send us Powies. The moment of truth is at hand. Profits about to go through the roof. We have all been in the wrong business. About to make you all rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

  Of course the reply was: what level Powies did the Dolomos want from their franchises? No one was going to give up the big spenders.

  “I don't want money. I want believers. We'll pay the way down. Believers.”

  “Believers mean money,” was the general answer.

  “Then poor believers,” said Rubin.

  “You mean the kids, the ones who want the future and try to sell Poweressence on the street corners?”

  “Yes. Them. Anyone. We are ready to strike back. Beatrice says we're not taking it anymore.”

  “That's why you had to leave the country in the first place, isn't it?” asked one of the franchise owners.

  “We're going to have a place very shortly that we'll never have to leave. Have you ever wondered why Presidents don't go to jail and citizens do?”

  “No,” said the franchise owner, who was more interested in a “Be Free from Eyeglasses” promotion Rubin had mentioned as an aside.

  “Then,” said Rubin, “you will be bound by your pettiness forever. Do you want to play with sight enhancers all your life?”

  “Rubin, if we can sell 'see without glasses' we can devastate the eyeglass market and put contacts out of business forever. Forever. Millions. I'm talking millions.

  How many people are embarrassed to wear eyeglasses? We will own the geriatric market.”

  “I don't know if it will work,” said Rubin.

  “Doesn't matter. We just need people to believe it will work. Lots of diets don't work, Rubin, but people still belong to clubs and buy books.”

  “Small change,” said Rubin. “You don't know how big we're going to be. As Beatrice says, we're not taking it anymore.”

  Within two days the Warriors of Zor had arrived at Harbor Island, and Rubin, with his suitcases of cash, was able to put them all in a fine little resort that straddled the island in the middle, each with small bungalow cottages and central dining room.

  “It's like a vacation,” said one man who sold insurance. To him Rubin entrusted the mission to the banking commission of the Bahamas.

  “I want to open a bank,” said Rubin. He gave the man twelve inches of hundred-dollar bills to establish the proper credentials. Rubin Dolomo had his bank before sunset. But there were other things he was doing.

  The Warriors of Zor would lead other Powies. With his own bank he could receive or give loans. The first thing he did was put the paper into it, and through a tangle of financial maneuvering got himself credit around the world.

  The native population being open, honest, and friendly, he immediately established himself as ruler, with Beatrice as queen. Those who went along received a large, friendly stipend. Those who did not were threatened successfully.

  Within three days of landing, the Dolomos had turned Harbor Island into their own preserve and announced independence from the Bahamas.

  The Prime Minister of the Bahamas was quite rightly infuriated. Since the Bahamians had the good sense to avoid enemies and even the better luck to have an ocean between them and any neighbor, they had never needed an army. They sent their police force, a finely trained, disciplined, and polite constabulary, still retaining many British officers as well as equally competent natives, to subdue the rebellion.

  The first wave got to the beach and were met with smiling, friendly people wearing rubber gloves and carrying cotton swabs. The first wave never reported back. The second wave went in with orders to let no one near. But by this time the Powies had the guns of the first waves. There was a slaughter on the beach.

  And here Rubin showed his true skills. Instead of hunkering down, Rubin prepared an announcement for his new Secretary of State, a pleasant man who ran a souvenir shop featuring tall cups with bug eyes that stared back at the drinker.

  “We are the Revolutionary People's Army of Harbor Island seeking to redress age-old oppression by Nassau, Eleuthera, and Great Britain, which made all these islands colonies. Our struggle will not stop until total freedom, total liberty, and total independence are achieved.”

  Since Rubin had carefully kept himself and Beatrice out of sight and since it seemed as though these were truly natives conducting the rebellion, fourteen Third World countries offered them recognition immediately, and Russia sent a trade delegation to give them arms.

  Just off the pink beach Rubin enlarged a crude factory into an underground bunker that could produce the memory formula. The Warriors of Zor trained the Powies who made it. Men of the Bahamian constabulary were allowed to play in the sand. No more tourists were allowed.

  Rubin felt so good he was down to one Percodan an hour, and it was then that he told Beatrice:

  “Your Majesty, we are ready.”

  Beatrice chortled. She confided to her new minister, Oscar, the souvenir man:

  “We're not taking it anymore.”

  And then on a phone system as mysterious as the far reaches of the planet Neptune and sometimes just as inaccessible, she telephoned the State Department of the United States of America and told them she wanted to speak to the President on a matter of utmost urgency.

  “And who is this?”

  “This is Beatrice of Alarkin. We are a newly independent state and we can go either way. There already is a Russian delegation here willing to sell us all the weapons we might need.”

  The President was on the phone in a half-hour.

  “We certainly wish to extend the greetings of the American people to your new nation. However, we also have relations with the Bahamas and with Great Britain and I do believe that to be recognized, you must clear up the question of your legitimacy first.”

>   Thus spoke the President of the United States from his new office, with the State Department brief in front of him. Intelligence had reported a takeover of the small Bahamian island.

  Under the new setup he touched nothing. No paper came to him, rather all material came through a computer screen. He was a healthy man for his seventy-odd years, and his mind was sharp. He didn't want to get America entangled in a revolution, especially one against nations that were friends. On the other hand, he wanted to keep communications open.

  The name Alarkin struck a bell with him. But his two aides, now restricted to only entering the outer edge of the office, just shook their heads when he asked them what Alarkin reminded them of.

  “Nothing, sir,” said the aides.

  A door opened and a lemony-faced man in a gray three-piece suit stood in the doorway.

  “I'm fine,” said the President.

  And Smith left, shutting the door.

  The aides had seen the man in the gray suit do that several times. One of them thought the man might be a personal physician but the other had been told he was a new private secretary. There were even rumors about an old Oriental who seemed to vanish when anyone saw him.

  And even stranger, the President refused to enter the Oval Office anymore.

  The President put his hand over the phone.

  “Alarkin. I've heard that name somewhere.”

  “Might be one of the old native gods.”

  “She sounds white. She sounds American,” said the President.

  Both aides shrugged.

  “They're in a revolutionary secession from the Bahamas,” said one aide.

  “Right,” said the President, and taking his hand off the phone, spoke into the receiver.

  “Can we possibly help you resolve your differences with the main islands?” the President asked.

  “What we want is freedom of religion,” said the Queen of Alarkin.

  “We too want that, and we support it,” said the President. He turned up the speaker so that the aides could hear. He shrugged. They shrugged.

  “The Bahamas have never been known for religious intolerance,” said the President, signaling that he wanted all of this recorded.

  “No, but you have,” said the woman who called herself Queen of Alarkin.

  “I beg to differ, ma'am. America from its very founding has promised and given freedom of religion. We are proud of it.”

  “Religious freedom for some. For the large, for the wealthy, for the powerful. But what about the small and oppressed?”

  “Are you talking about small black churches? They do very well here, your Majesty.”

  “I am talking about those churches that dare to tell the truth. Those churches that dare to risk new and startling ideas.”

  “The fact is, your Majesty, America has more and different churches than any other country in the world.”

  “Yes, and what about Poweressence?”

  “Ma'am, the people who run that are not facing charges because of teaching new religious doctrines. You may or may not be aware of it, but they put an alligator into the pool of a columnist who was exposing them. The post office has a good case for mail fraud, and we believe they are behind the murder — and I call it murder — of an Air Force colonel, a United States senator, and an entire plane crew. Those poor people died when the rulers of Poweressence tried to kill me.”

  “There is no need for death,” said the Queen of Alarkin.

  “I'd like to believe that,” said the President.

  “If you dropped your cases against them, no one would have to die.”

  “I would not interfere with our judicial system for anyone, but least of all for that pair of con artists and murderers,” said the President, his voice rising in anger. He remembered Colonel Armbruster, remembered how he would ask if the landing was just right sometimes, remembered the man had a family.

  “I want you to know,” continued the President, “we are not giving in to terrorism of any kind.”

  “I am speaking of your life. I can not guarantee the safety of your life as long as the thousands of devoted followers of Poweressence see their leaders persecuted.”

  “Is that a threat?” asked the President.

  “It is a friendly warning for you to be evenhanded in the matter of the Dolomos. Why do you act friendly to the Catholics, Protestants, and Jews, and feel nothing for the Poweressence devotees, beautiful people, beautiful people all?”

  “I will tell you how I will be evenhanded. I am going to suggest Congress deliver me an antifraud-cult bill today. And we are going to put bums like that out of business. Because that's all they are, Queen of Alarkin. Bums.”

  “Well, I can only say, Mr. President, you have only yourself to blame. Because we are not taking it anymore.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “You're not picking on a couple of defenseless citizens anymore. We are a nation. And we have a right to defend ourselves from oppression in any way possible. I warn you. Look to the sea. Look to the skies. Look to the land. We're not taking it anymore. We're going to get you.”

  “Who is this?”

  “The beautiful wife of Rubin Dolomo herself.”

  “He doesn't have a beautiful wife.”

  “That has to be against the Geneva Convention. That's low. For that you will pay. I've warned you. We're not taking it anymore.”

  The aides saw the President hang up and then dismiss them.

  “Smith, come in here please,” he said into an intercom that worked off a button under the rug beneath his desk.

  “Are you feeling all right?” asked Smith as he entered. Chiun, the Oriental who worked with Smith's organization, was with him.

  “I'm feeling fine,” said the President.

  The Oriental bowed and left the room.

  “The Dolomos have taken over a small island in the Bahamas. They have declared themselves independent. They are now foreign leaders, and they have heaven knows what at their disposal. They are totally ruthless and unscrupulous. I suggest we use the other one to go at them now.”

  “He's been lost,” said Smith.

  “No,” said the President, shaking his head. “If they got him, they can get anyone.”

  “Probably, but Chiun is better, I believe. Remo was not in top shape.”

  “Then why did you send him?”

  “We didn't have anyone else, sir.”

  “Send the Oriental then.”

  “I'd like to keep him here.”

  “Look, if we get them, then I won't be in danger,” said the President.

  “And if they get him?”

  “Then they'll get me. They offered terms, you know. Just now. Let them off the hook in the courts, and they will let me off.”

  “Are you going to take it?”

  “No.”

  “I wonder if this once we shouldn't back down, and get them at an easier time.”

  “I am not selling out to two hustling bums.”

  “We may be talking about your life, sir.”

  “Then I'll die in office, dammit. I am President of the United States, not some courthouse politician. I will not desecrate this office by compromising with two patent frauds who have turned to murder.”

  “That's your decision then?” said Smith.

  “That is my decision,” said the President. “Today I am going to have introduced into Congress a tough antifraud bill, a bill that would make hustles like Poweressence illegal. And even if those two should somehow beat this rap, then they will never be able to practice their chicanery again.”

  “If you say so, sir. May I suggest your sending military assistance to the Bahamas and hope more soldiers will be able to take them.”

  “I'd rather use the Oriental.”

  “Sir, he stays here. That's part of the safety built into my organization. No president can order me. He can only suggest. I have a choice of doing what he says or disbanding.”

  “And you will disband?”

 
; “I will not order Chiun from your presence, sir,” said Smith.

  “You're going to kill me if I get infected with that substance, aren't you?”

  Smith hesitated. He liked the President. He respected the President, but even more he respected the office.

  “Yessir,” he said. “That is just what I'm going to do.”

  “Because acting without a memory, acting like that pilot, I can get everyone killed, is that it?”

  Smith nodded. He swallowed.

  “Yeah. I suppose that's the right move. They told me when I took over this office you always made the right move. That's what my predecessor said. Well, let me suggest this. You send Chiun after those two, and if I show any signs of being afflicted, you shoot me. Right in the head. Don't let me do to this country what the pilot did to that plane.”

  “Can't do that, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I couldn't pull the trigger, sir. And since it is all out, let me say that Chiun can kill you in a way no one would know wasn't an accident or even a heart seizure.”

  “Okay,” said the President. “You and Chiun stay here. But how do you know when you come in again I won't lie and say I'm feeling fine just so he won't kill me?”

  “You'd have to remember for that,” said Smith.

  “You certainly do make the right moves, Mr. Smith.”

  “Yessir,” said Smith, and disappeared behind a door, only to come out a half-hour later while the President was speaking to several senators about his bill to put greater penalties on frauds in religious cults.

  “Absolutely fine,” said the President with a courageous smile.

  “Yessir,” said Smith, and shut the door.

  “Who was that?” asked a senator.

  “Just a new secretary,” said the President.

  Chapter 12

  It was the largest oil tanker ever built. Her hold could keep a city lighted and warm for a winter. The belly in the Persia-Saud Maru was so vast it would be cleaned by specially designed tractor scrubbers that would start at the bow and not finish until a half-month later.

  The oil disgorged while cleaning her tanks could tar fifteen miles of modern highway. So dangerous would a spill be that international law prescribed her route, and both American and Russian submarines would break radio silence to identify and chart icebergs that might be in her way.