Enlightenment was a slightly longer process for Sven than it had been
for the others, but even he found it impossible to share another's thoughts
and still maintain a wall of prejudice. It took about a week of sifting through
the lives of each before his epiphany came about. Ivan pushed it along,
gently prodding, bringing forth the memories and the understanding needed
to cement the bond,--- and in the end it was as Ivan predicted. Sven now
saw JT through different eyes and felt deeply ashamed at his first reaction
to the man. He tried to explain his feelings to Chet, his fear and anger,---
the betrayal he'd felt as he lay bleeding in a ditch.
“I've wasted a good part of my life in hating blacks, and yet I realize
now I brought it on myself. I was twenty-one when I met Kinakut, he was
only seventeen, a cabin boy, and so beautiful I fell in love with him. I
pushed myself on the boy, actually you might say I forced him to become
my lover,--- I saw only what I felt for him, not how he felt about being
used. God, what a fool I was,--- and what a fool I've been all these years
since.”
“Don't worry, Jason understands. We all do. When it comes to love we have
very little control of our emotions. Hate, too, is another unbound passion,
but we can work through it if we try. Does it still upset you Jason is black?”
“No,--- not at all,--- but I'm embarrassed. He must think I'm a poor excuse
for a human being.”
“I doubt that. Jason also had to work through prejudice,--- in fact, we
all have in one way or another. There is no perfect understanding anywhere
except between the five of us. Look,--- Jason went shopping with Maria today,
but when he comes back you might want to sit down and talk to him. I think
you'll feel better if you do.”
Perhaps it was Chet's memories of the first night he spent with Sven,
the ones he shared so intimately with Jason, or maybe they simply clicked,
whatever the reason, the bond between Jason and Sven became extremely close.
Over the next couple of weeks it was not uncommon to see the two off by themselves
talking animatedly, laughing, and enjoying each other's company and more
than once they had been sighted in some quiet terrace bower holding hands.
“Do you feel left out?” Ivan asked, as he and Chet watched the two again
wander away, lost in conversation.
“No, not really. I'm glad it's happening for them. I envy them, of course,
but I don't feel abandoned and definitely not left out. If you care to look,
you'll see that's not been the case.” Chet said, grinning.
“Well, as long as you're not upset.” Ivan said, pulling a notebook from
his shirt pocket. In the process his pen slipped out and fell to the ground.
He reached for it and a pained look crossed his face.
“What's the matter?” Chet asked.
“It's just a catch in my back, I guess. I had this couple of times up
North, it goes away in a minute.”
He leaned back in the chair and the pain soon passed.
“We've got two weeks before we head North again, but we need to get organized.
First, we have to develop contingency plans for each of us, in case we really
screw up. There's also Maria and Jose to think about. We might be gone for
quite awhile.”
“Okay, then let's set up a fund that will cover the lease for the next
year, and wages of course. We'll need to beef up Maria's household account,
too ,--- utilities, license tags for the car, any other fees you can think
of, and we'll have to get an attorney to make sure everything is legal.”
“Yes,” Ivan replied, “But I'm wondering if we also shouldn't hire someone
to stay here with Maria.”
“Are you worried about break-ins?”
“No, not really, but I just don't feel right leaving her alone when she
can't use a telephone.”
“Okay, then get one of Jose's grandchildren to stay with her,--- they're
here three days a week anyway. The twelve year old, Teresa,--- she's a smart
little girl,--- she and Maria hit it off fine; in fact, Maria's teaching her
to sketch.”
“That's a good idea. I'll talk to Jose and maybe have one of the older
boys stay, too. Philip is almost sixteen, I'll bet he could use some extra
money.”
“Okay, the domestic stuff is settled. Now what about contingency plans
you were talking about?”
“I'm thinking extra passports for everyone and enough cash and credit
cards to keep each of us mobile in case we get into a jam. If trouble develops
we'll have to spread out and go in different directions. The cards I've all
ready arranged for, the passports will be Jason's job when we get back in
the States.”
“And?”
“That's it really. If anything happens, we scatter, each to a pre-determined
place and then regroup.”
“Some contingency plan! I like our main scenario better,--- you know,---
the one where nothing goes wrong? I'd also like it better if you'd stay a
thousand miles away from Washington and just oversee us. We can do the legwork.
You shoot us the passwords, Jason directs and we can destroy practically
everything written about us. You don't need to be there.”
“Yes, I do! Until I can read Fennman, I have to be on the scene. We're
pretty sure the FBI and CIA are covered, but Fennman might have other agents
or agencies involved and we wouldn't even know until we got nailed. No, I've
got to be there. They'll all have to be erased at the same time,--- in layers,---
from the center to the outer edge of each group, but Fennman remains the
keystone. Also, we still have no idea of how many at the Institute are directly
involved. There could be dozens.”
The planning went on for a week. During that time Chet saw another instance
or two of Ivan's back pain, but again thought nothing of it. However,
on the morning three days before their scheduled departure, Ivan was in such
pain he couldn't get out of bed and Bart came rapping on Chet's door,
“He’s hurting bad. It just came on all of a sudden. I'm getting worried.”
When Chet got to the room, Ivan's face was grimaced in pain. He was trying
to sit, but Bart eased him back into the mattress.
“Damn,” he said, “I've never had anything hurt like that before. It's
like being stabbed with a knife.”
He tried breathing deeply and each breath hurt, but finally the pain subsided.
“Whoa, now,--- that was a bad one!”
“I thought you said it was just a sprain? That sure doesn't act like any
pulled muscle I've ever seen. Does it still hurt?”
“No,--- it's okay now.”
“You just lie still,--- I'm going to call a doctor.”
“Don't bother, I've a hunch I know what it is.”
“What?”
“Liver cancer. I remember my dad suddenly having this same kind of pain.”
“Well,--- then, I guess we're not going to watch you grow old after all,
are we? Bart, get a transfusion kit. We're going to take care of this right
now!”
“NO! Not yet. I'll use painkillers if I have to.”
“For God's sake, why?”
“Because I can't! What if I have more than liver cancer? I've always
wondered why my ESP developed so suddenly. What if a transfusion wipes it
out,--- where the hell would that leave us? No, I can't chance it until we've
put everyone off our trail.”
“So that's why you've been holding off.” Bart interjected. ”Why
didn't you tell me?”
“I'm sorry, I figured eventually Fennman would fade away and it wouldn't
make any difference.”
“Cancer runs in your family,” Bart chided, “your dad and two of your uncles
died of it, and you kept assuring me it was only a pulled muscle. I though
we didn't have any secrets between us?”
“Well,--- Jesus, Bart,--- I didn't realize it until just a few minutes
ago,” Ivan protested, “I still can't be sure, but I do know we don't
have time to fool with doctors and biopsies.”
Chet sorted through his memories of Ivan's father and saw the man lived
only a short time after the onset of the disease. More importantly, the last
weeks of his life were spent in a drug-induced haze. All three men arrived
at the same conclusion at almost at the same moment.
“We'll have to change our plans.” Chet said quietly, “If it's cancer,
you can't handle a long campaign. You better call Jason and Sven, we'll
need a war council.”