The Key to Midnight

- all in white gowns, white face masks - stood over him. The first surgeon said, 'Where does he think he is?' The second surgeon said, 'South America. Rio.' And the third said, 'So what happens if this doesn't work?' The first surgeon said, 'Then he'll probably get himself killed without solving our problem.' Alex grew bored with their conversation, and he raised one hand to touch the nearest doctor, hoping to silence him, but his fingers suddenly changed into tiny replicas of buildings, five tiny buildings at the end of his hand, which then became five tall buildings seen at a distance, and then the buildings grew larger, became skyscrapers, and they drew nearer, and a city grew across the palm of his hand and up his arm, and the faces of the surgeons were replaced by clear blue sky, and the city wasn't on his hand and arm any more but below him, the city of Rio below him, the fantastic bay and the sea beyond, and then the plane landed, and he got out. He was in Rio. A Spanish guitar played mournful music. He was on vacation and having a good time, having a very good time, a memorable and good, good time.
        At seven o'clock in the morning, he was awakened by a loud pounding. At first he thought the sound was inside his head, but it was real.
        Joanna sat up in bed beside him, clutching the covers. 'What's that?'
        Alex strove to shake off the last shroud of sleep. He cocked his head, listened for a moment, and said, 'Someone's at the door to the hall, out in the drawing room.'
        'Sounds like they're breaking it down.'
        He picked up the loaded pistol from the nightstand.
        'Stay here,' he said, getting out of bed.
        'No way.'
        In the drawing room, dim gray daylight seeped in at the edges of the closed drapes. The writing desk, chairs, and sofa might have been sleeping animals in the gloom.
        Alex felt for the light switch, found it. He squinted in the sudden glare and held the gun in front of him.
        'There's no one here,' Joanna said.
        In the foyer, they found a blue envelope on the carpet. It had been slipped under the door.
        As Alex picked it up, Joanna said, 'What's that?'
        'A note from the senator.'
        'How do you know that?'
        He blinked at her. Even after nine hours of sleep, he was still fuzzy-minded.
        'How?' she persisted.
        The envelope was unmarked by typewriter or pen, and it was sealed.
        'I don't know,' he said. 'Instinct, I guess.'

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    46
        
        London was rainy and cold. The bleak December sky was so low and heavy that the city seemed to huddle beneath it in expectation of being crushed. The tops of the tallest buildings disappeared into gray mist.
        The taxi driver who picked up Alex and Joanna in front of their hotel was a burly man with a neatly trimmed white beard. He wore a rumpled hat and a heavy green cardigan. He smelled of peppermint and rain-dampened wool. 'Where can I take you this morning?'
        'Eventually,' Alex said, 'we want to go to the British Museum. But first you'll have to lose the people who'll be following us. Can you do that?'
        The driver stared at him as if unsure he had heard correctly.
        'He's perfectly serious,' Joanna said.
        'He seems to be,' said the driver.
        'And he's sober,' she said.
        'He seems to be.'
        'And he isn't crazy.'
        'That remains to be seen,' said the driver.
        Alex counted out thirty pounds to the man. 'I’ll have thirty more for you at the other end, plus the fare. Will you help us?'
        'Well, sir, they tell you to humor madmen if you meet one. And it seems especially wise to humor one with money. The only thing that bothers me - is it coppers watching you?'
        'No,' Alex said.
        'Is it coppers, young lady?'
        'No,' Joanna said. 'They're not good men at all.'
        'Sometimes neither are the coppers.' He grinned, tucked the bills into his shirt pocket, stroked his white beard with one hand, and said, 'Name's Nicholas. At your service. What should I be looking for? What sort of car might they be using?'
        'I don't know,' Alex said. 'But they'll stay close behind us. If we keep an eye open, we'll spot them.'
        The morning traffic was heavy. Nicholas turned right at the first corner, left at the second, then right, left, left, right.
        Alex watched out the back window. 'Brown Jaguar. Lose