Levels: The Host (19 page)

CHAPTER 20

W
atly backed away from the window into the shadows. What was going on? Had Alysess betrayed him? Had she turned? Was all that a lie? He couldn’t believe it. That couldn’t be true. Something must have gone wrong. She’d been caught or something.
Rape on
stale weeders!

Watly looked around frantically. He was a dead man—he had to hide somewhere. The bedroll was too small. The wardrobe was too obvious. The only place in the whole apartment to hide was in the bathroom. That was ridiculous. There had to be someplace.
Someplace else.

Watly heard the downstairs door open and bang shut. They had entered the building. It would just be a few seconds before they arrived at the apartment. Two short flights of stairs. Watly spun around. Where was the gun? Where the subs was the gun? He heard their footsteps as they climbed the stairs. It sounded like they’d already reached the second floor. One
more flight.

The gun was under the love seat, half hidden by the front leg. Watly snatched it up and gripped it tightly. Again he looked around for a place to hide or for a way out. There was the window—but there’d be nothing to stand on out there. It was a long way down to
the street.

He could hear voices as they reached the third floor. They got louder as they started down the hall to the apartment door. Watly looked at the window once again. Maybe there was something to hold on to out there. Maybe—

“I still don’t see why this is necessary.” It was Alysess’s voice. She sounded strained and agitated. There was the clink of keys fumbling. They were right outside
the door.

Watly stuffed the gun in his pants and pulled the window open. He heard the
keys drop.

“Oops. I’m sorry. I seem to be all thumbs today,” came the voice. She sounded overly loud—like she wanted Watly
to hear.

He pulled his body up into the window frame and swung out sideways. There was nothing to hold on to. Nothing. He swung the other way. Still nothing. Not even a pipe to stand on. Watly leaned out backwards—almost falling—and looked up. Four feet above the window running lengthwise was the CV cable. It carried the building’s signal. It looked weak
and flimsy.

Watly heard the key entering the lock. It was a very specific sound—a final, distinct click as metal met metal in perfect fit. He looked again at the cable. It would have to do. He pulled the window half closed and braced himself against its ledge.
Please—let that thin little cable be stronger than it looks,
Watly thought as he
hung there.

The door to the apartment opened. Watly pushed off hard with his feet and sprang up into empty space. His aim was good and he hit the cable with both hands, grasping it instantly. It bowed downward under the strain. He pulled his legs inward and tried to find a foothold on the top of the window frame. There was a thin lip—just enough for the toes of his shoes to balance precariously. The cable bowed still more. It was secured to the building with a series of flimsy-looking metal clamps every few feet. Two of these snapped in half and Watly sagged still lower. His right foot slipped from the lip. Watly fumbled but brought it back in place. He was clinging with all his strength. He felt like a spider—a spider defying gravity and climbing a sheer wall.
That’s it, Caiper. Keep that image. You’re a spider, Caiper.
A spider.

Another clamp snapped. Watly looked at the cable itself. It was a bit frayed but it looked like it was holding up. The clamps were the problem. They were the weak point. Watly felt himself sagging lower. His rear end must have been in line with his feet by now. Voices came from
the apartment.

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand.” Alysess’s voice still
sounded tense.

“Look, Tollnismer—”

“
Doctor
Tollnismer,”
she interrupted.

“I’m sorry, Doctor Tollnismer,” the man’s
voice said.

“That’s okay, Fenlocki.”

“
Sergeant
Fenlocki,”
he snapped.

“
Of course.”

There was a moment
of silence.

“Look, Doctor… look, we’re not accusing you of anything. It’s just a precaution. We’re covering all the possibilities. We’re dealing with a very dangerous man. Mind if I
look around?”

“What has this man got to do with me? And yes, I
do
mind.”

“This is the bathroom? Nice bathroom. Doctor, listen… we’re doing this with anyone,
anyone
who had any contact at all with the murderer. You had contact. It’s as simple as that. You doctored his hosting. What’s in here? Ah, clothes.
Nice
clothes. This
your bedroll?”

“I only met
him briefly
....
”

“That’s all that matters. We’re sorry about the inconvenience. I’m sure it’s only for a short while. What we’d like to do, if you don’t mind—and we’re asking this of all Watly Caiper’s acquaintances—is put up a direct surveillance lens right over there by the ceiling. You won’t even notice it. It’s a fish-eye and can take in the whole apartment. We’d also like to put a plainclothes officer—my partner, here, to start with—down at your front door for twenty-four hours. That way if this Mr. Caiper does try to contact you or any of the others, we’ll know right away. It’s really just a formality. Mind if I open up the window more? You get such a nice
breeze here.”

Watly pulled himself upward as far as he could. His arm muscles screamed
in protest.

“Sergeant, I don’t think any of this is necessary,” Alysess
said abruptly.

“Nice view you have here, Doctor,” the
sergeant said.

The voice was very near to Watly—almost directly below him. Another clamp snapped. Watly felt himself sag downward slightly. He pulled in with his arms even harder. Any lower and he’d be mooning an officer of
the law.

“Do I have any say in all this, Sergeant?” Alysess
asked angrily.

“Frankly, no. You haven’t any choice. But I hate phrasing it that way.” His voice faded some as he left the window. “Truth is you’re stuck with it until we catch
the guy.”

“What about
my privacy?”

“There’s no lens in the bathroom, Doctor. Nothing to fear. If you want to masturbate or fuck or something without an audience, you’ll have to do it in there. This is just temporary,
you understand.”

Watly thought his arms would fall off. He tried not to think about it.
I’m a spider. I’m a
terradamn spider.

“Is that
all
, Sergeant?” The doctor’s voice sounded angry
and rebellious.

“Why, isn’t that enough?” The sergeant laughed and another male voice—his partner—joined in. “Are you all set with the lens, Akral?”

“All through, Sergeant,” the other
officer said.

“This is Akral, Dr. Tollnismer. He’ll be on your front door stoop if you
need him.”

“I’d like to be alone now, if you’re done,” Alysess
said bitterly.

“Oh, we’re done, Doctor. One question, though, before I leave. You’ve just come back from work now,
have you?”

“You know I have, Sergeant. You came
with me.”

“And you were there
all day?”

“Pretty much. What’s this got to
do with—”

“Do you normally leave an open bottle of booze, a half-filled glass, and some bread lying around
all day?”

There was a pause. Watly held
his breath.

“Sometimes I get lazy, Sergeant Fenlocki. I leave things out,” Alysess said calmly. “I leave
things open.”

“Ah, so this was
your breakfast?”

There was
another pause.

“On occasion I have a nip in the morning.” Her voice droned lazily as if she were bored with the questions. “I happen to like it. Maybe I like it a little
too much.”

“Do I detect a little CV mist in
the air?”

“The machine happens
to leak.”

“What about
this hat?”

“I wear
hats
, Sergeant.”

“And
this knapsack?”

“Is it a crime to have a
knapsack now?”

“Not at all. Doctor. But understand my concern. I’m on a very important case. The people want results and they want them fast. We have enough concerns nowadays without worrying about a loose murderer. Believe me. If you see anything of possible interest to this investigation, you must contact me immediately. Or if you remember something. Something you may
have overlooked.”

“I’m very tired, Sergeant.”

“My apologies, Doctor. You’ve had a long day. I’m sure you’d like to return to your.
..
breakfast.”

“Thank you,
yes
,” she
said strongly.

“Don’t forget, Doctor. Don’t forget the penalty for helping this particular man.” The sergeant’s voice
was cold.

“That does not concern me, sir,”
Alysess said.

“I thought not, Doctor.” There was the sound of footsteps. “We’ll be in touch—or, I should say, we’ll be watching.” He laughed heartily and the other man joined in the laughter once again. Then there was the click of the door closing, followed by
hollow silence.

Watly let his arms relax some and he slumped down even lower. Rape, he was sore. He heard Alysess moving around in the apartment. Was she looking for him? After a few seconds, he heard the window open all the way directly below him. There was a soft gasp. Alysess must have seen him hanging there. She couldn’t say anything or the lens would pick it up. He heard her quickly close the window all the way with a loud thump. Then there was the sound of a shade being pulled. Now Watly assumed he couldn’t be seen by the lens if he lowered himself some. He let his feet slip off the edge of the lip and hang below him. They swung freely for a moment and then touched the bottom windowsill. He stepped on it firmly, taking some of the stress off his arm muscles.
I thank you, Alysess. And my arms
thank you.

Watly could see she had pulled down a flimsy brown window shade so he was protected from the lens. He tried to stretch and twist his back without losing his grip. His body felt full of kinks and
knotted muscles.

Watly heard voices on the street below. The
sound traveled.

“All right, Akral. Just stay right here and keep your eyes peeled. You’ll be relieved in four hours by another officer.
Good luck.”

“Thank you, sir.”

There were footsteps as the sergeant walked off. Watly closed his eyes.
Please don’t turn back. Please don’t glance up at the apartment window, Ogiv.

The footsteps continued without faltering and faded into
the distance.

Now what?
Watly thought.
I’m hanging from the outside of a window like a monkey. I can’t go in ‘cause the lens will see me. I can’t talk ‘cause the lens will hear me. I can’t climb down ‘cause there’s no way to. I couldn’t climb down if there
was
a way ‘cause there’s a man standing guard below. This is wonderful. And Alysess can’t help me ‘cause she’s got to act natural for the lens. This is just terrific. Not to mention that my arms are going to give out soon. Rape or toast. There’s got to be an answer. I can’t get trapped here. Not like this. If I get caught anywhere near here they’ll put two and two together and arrest Alysess for complicity. Kill her, too.

Watly heard singing coming from inside the apartment. It started as humming but quickly became full-fledged singing. Alysess had a pleasant voice and she used it in a relaxed, unselfconscious manner. It sounded as if she were just passing the time. She was singing an oldie—one of the popular tunes from a few
years back.

“When I’m down I write to my poovus,

I write to my poovus every day.

When I’m low I write to my poovus,

I write to my poovus and I feel okay
....
”

All right,
Watly thought.
I get it. You’re going to write something down and give it to me. You have a plan. Good thing
someone
has
a plan.

The singing stopped. Watly heard nothing from inside the apartment. He held on. Still nothing. He kept holding on. It felt like he’d been holding on for ages. Watly tried to redistribute his weight. He let his arms go looser and his feet take more of the burden. Another cable clamp broke and the cable swayed lower. It was actually better that way. Watly could now hold on with one hand at a time, giving the other one a rest. He kept alternating.
Come on, Alysess. What are you writing, a novel?
Watly assumed she had secretly slipped a pen and some paper into the bathroom and was writing in there.
Damn the lens. Damn the stupid sergeant and damn his little helper and damn the whole damn super-efficient police force! Send them all to
the Subkeeper!

Come on, Alysess! I don’t have all day. Watly felt the arches of his feet cramping up. He tried to wiggle his toes and alternate bending his ankles slightly. This was torture.
If you have a plan, then tell me,
Watly thought,
because my body ain’t gonna hold out
much longer.

He held on with his right, leaned a little, and glanced down the left side of his body. There was Akral, three stories below, sitting on Alysess’s front steps. He was lighting up an illegal cigel and gazing off down the street.
Just don’t glance upward, you big sofdick subspawn,
Watly thought. Akral looked like a real beanhead, but he was probably smart enough to figure something was afoot if he happened to see a man clinging to the outside of a window frame. Watly had to give him credit for that much.
Come on, Alysess!