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the quarrel between Blade and
Lord Leighton, considering how he'd lost his temper with the scientist not too
long ago, but refrained. If he said it, there'd simply be a quarrel with J
added to the one with Lord Leighton.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he said briskly to J, and hung up. It was the
first time he'd hung up on J. He felt that he was showing rather a lot of
self-restraint in not slamming the receiver down.
He went over to the sideboard and poured himself a large whiskey. It was only
his second of the evening. He didn't plan to get drunk-not tonight. He wasn't
that angry yet.
"Yeeeep?"
"All right, Cheeky. You can have something, too."
Blade opened another can of preserved fruit and added some salted nuts, then
poured the mixture into a bowl and set it on the sideboard. Cheeky jumped up
and began munching happily, his tail waving back and forth.
Good thing nobody can see how happy he is, thought Blade. They'd suspect my
story. Blade had claimed that because of their telepathic link, he and Cheeky
had developed a strong bond, and the feather-monkey would refuse to eat if
Blade was not present. Thus Cheeky would have to stay with him until he
adjusted to Home Dimension. The Project scientists were too afraid of losing
the creature not to let Blade have his way. So the Feathered One came home
with his master. There he would stay, if not until hell froze over, at least
for a month or two.
If the scientists suspected that he had lied to keep Cheeky away from them,
however, they would have fits. They would also join forces with Lord Leighton,
and then all the scientific staff of Project Dimension
X would be on bad terms with Richard Blade. He knew that before this happened,
he'd have to back down. As little as he liked the idea of eating crow, he knew
he'd do it if the alternative was wrecking the
Project.
Indeed, it appeared that the earlier squabble between Leighton and J over the
spymaster's intelligence work was minor in comparison with the state of
affairs in the Project now. As soon as Blade had returned from Dimension X,
everybody began yelling at everybody else. Leighton was furious because
Blade had brought back only a monkey and nothing else, even failing to return
with the shorts and sandals. Blade could hardly control his voice as he
explained that these "clothes" didn't even make good underwear, and that from
the looks he got when he first appeared in Dimension X, he'd have been better
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off stark naked, the way he usually was when he arrived. At least the commando
knife had proved useful, and he had returned with that, though he would have
preferred a weapon more like those used in the other Dimension. Then Leighton
and J both began questioning Blade's powers of judgment for not finding out
about the metal reflector and the mysterious Fathers, and Blade lost all
patience as he angrily explained that his attachments to people in other
Dimensions sometimes took priority over learning the mysteries of their lands.
By the time the meeting ended, no one was talking to anyone else, and it
seemed that for all anyone cared the Project could collapse.
Blade was going to have to do something, but he wasn't going to do it soon, no
matter what J said! If
Lord Leighton was going to say things like "Richard's more loyal to the girls
he picks up in Dimension X
than he is to the Project," he bloody well ought to stew in his own juice for
a few days! No doubt
Leighton and J had reason to be angry about Blade's failure to learn anything
about the origins of the
Feathered Ones or the reflector. But most of the failure wasn't his fault, and
there was absolutely no call to insult Miera's memory. None at all.
Blade discovered that his whiskey was gone and considered pouring a third. He
hadn't yet made up his mind when there was a knock on the door.
It was one of the Special Branch men assigned to the Project, with a small
attache case chained to his wrist. "Mr. Blade? A letter for you, from Lord
Leighton. You'll have to sign for it."
Blade got out a pen. It seemed unlikely that Leighton had reached the point of
sending him letter bombs.
He signed for the letter but waited until the door was closed and locked
before opening it.
It was a good thing he did. When he'd read the letter and looked at the other
item in the envelope, he poured himself a third whiskey. Then he sat down and
read the letter again. If he read it often enough, he might really believe it.
Dear Richard, I apologize for everything I said in connection with what you
did or left undone in the Dimension of the
Crimson River. Absolutely, and without reservation, I apologize. It was not
your fault that you could not learn more about the origins of the Feathered
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