Kapitel 11: 11
Arley Tattersall gasped in alarm and almost fell off the sofa as she lifted her head from Ian Woodbridge's chest and saw the dark silhouette at the door.
'What the hell-'
'Sh! Someone's at the door!' she hissed, struggling into her clothes in near-darkness.
Dressing unhurriedly, Ian went to the door and opened it without checking who was there. To Arley's relief, Frederick Sutter came in the door. His dark blue-grey fedora and light grey raincoat were sodden and dripping. The thunder and lightning had abated for the time being, and now the rain was falling in slashing torrents, turning the streets into rivers, grates and drains into gurgling whirlpools and eddies.
'Here, let me hang those up for you,' Ian told him.
Arley savoured the smell of the garments as Ian walked past her. She loved the smell of mens' clothing, wet, soiled or smoky. She found such things to be comfortingly and sensuously masculine. She even like the smell and feel of Ian's beard.
'What-' Frederick curtly gestured the pair to silence as he began going over the room with an electronic device. He went from room to room, taking his time, until at last he'd checked over the whole house. In the meantime, Ian had ground coffee, fired up the stove, and begun whipping up the lattes he was famous for.
'Well?'
Frederick shook his head. 'None, but the operative word is "yet". They probably haven't had an opportunity, yet, thanks in part to the amount of time the two of you have been here exchanging fluids.'
Arley tried not to appear nonplussed. 'What makes you think-?'
'You smell like a bordello, my dear,' Frederick said with a wry smile as he accepted a latte from Ian. He chuckled as the young woman turned crimson with mortification.
'Have you heard from Holcomb?' Ian asked him.
'Perhaps,' Frederick rejoined with a smile that was not a smile, which stated clearly that the matter of Holcomb was strictly off-limits. 'In any event, time is of the essence. We have to act; now.' To Arley, he added, 'That means "in the morning", so you'll have your young man all to yourself for at least the night. I suggest you use the time wisely, and sleep.'
'Do we even know where to begin?' Ian asked him.
'I'll keep a close eye on the military,' Frederick told him. 'If they get any leads, I'll do what I can to outguess them.'
'They don't trust you,' Ian said warily.
Frederick smiled at that. 'They probably suspect that I mean to run interference, and will, in all probability, try to pull on me what I intend to pull on them. So we'll be two crafty old foxes waiting at the same rabbit hole.'
'So, what should we be doing?' Arley asked innocently, drawing a smile from the older man.
'The two of you should keep an ear to yellow journalism, and an eye to the tabloids,' he told them. 'Keep track of every rumour, no matter how outlandish or foolish.'
'I do not fill my head with that sort of . . . trash!' Arley enounced succinctly, making a conscious effort to avoid swearing in order to set some ground rules for her brand-new relationship.
'My dear!' Frederick chided, 'the first and most effective course of action of good detective work is going through the trash. People can no more not throw things out than they can keep their mouths shut. People throw things away that tell you everything about their lives, and people gossip. Criminals get caught because they can't not brag about their escapades. Politicians, policemen, rich people and actors alike make fools of themselves every day because they can't not talk about the very things that will land them in hot water. Now, it could very well be that our alien visitors are careful and close-lipped, but the people they come in contact with are another matter entirely.'
'We don't even know what we're dealing with here!' Arley protested. 'What if they're really dangerous? If they are, we're not the right people to go looking for them.'
'That's funny-bugger talk,' Frederick said patiently. 'In actual fact, we have a good idea what we're looking for. You've seen the video and photos of the aliens' remains. They look a lot like us. They have hair and skin and eyes and noses and ears and fingers and toes. Dressed like us, they could probably pass for one of us. The few that may have survived and escaped will have left on foot. Think about that! This means that they had to have blended into the crowd, because the crash site was entirely surrounded by people.'
'You think they had help?' Ian asked him in surprise.
Frederick shrugged. 'Perhaps. Perhaps before they crashed, perhaps after.'
Arley gaped at this. 'Before!? But that means . . .'
'That their people were already here?' Frederick finished for her. 'Yes, there is that possibility. However . . .' he made a disparaging noise. 'I do not buy into that possibility. I have no evidence to support my assertion, but I offer the lack of evidence for or against as evidence in itself. Remember what I said about people's inability to keep secrets!'
'In that case, someone smuggled them out,' Ian mulled, working things out. 'In which case, they were taken away in a vehicle, and passed through every checkpoint.'
'But that would mean that they're with someone who's looking after them,' Arley said in disbelief. 'That's not the sort of thing you can keep secret for very long . . . oh!'
'Bravo!' Frederick clapped his hands, lightly. 'And now, I think the two of you know exactly what to do, in order to find our alien visitors before the military catch up with them and kill them out-of-hand.'
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein