Icejacked
Chapter 9

Universities and Magazines

I woke with a start, disorientated at being back in my flat. The sound of the TV blaring in the other room had jerked me awake. I stuffed the balls of my fists into my eyes, rubbed hard, and then checked the time.

“5:00 a.m.” said the stark green oblong.

I got slowly out of bed and padded into the living room. Leddicus, washed and dressed, was sitting on the sofa. He gave me a cheery wave as I stumbled in.

“Look! I made your talking box work!” He was obviously very proud of himself.

“TV,” I said grumpily.

“Yes, yes, and I stood in your rain machine and made it hot.”

“Shower,” I said automatically. “Do you know it’s five in the morning. What planet are you on?”

Without waiting for an answer, I shuffled into the kitchen and filled the kettle. I sat at the kitchen table and drank a cup of scalding instant coffee while I waited for the real stuff to percolate. My sleepiness gradually started to fade.

Leddicus appeared in the doorway. “You are ill?”

“It’s too early. I only went to sleep five minutes ago.” I took another slug of coffee. Unfazed, he nodded. His excitement at being out of the hospital was not to be dampened.

“I am hungry, please.”

I stood up slowly and began rifling through the cupboards, not expecting to find anything after my long absence, but the wonderful housekeeper had stocked them with a few essentials. I waved a box at him.

“How about muesli?”

“That is good.”

I plonked dishes, spoons, mugs, milk, and sugar onto the table and motioned for Leddicus to join me. Leddicus helped himself to a huge bowl of muesli as I poured him some coffee. I pushed it toward him, determined to commence his education in this essential beverage. He picked it up and sniffed it. His nose wrinkled in disgust. He took a small sip and let out a yelp as he scalded his tongue.

“Here, have some of this and this.” I doled out milk and sugar into his mug and stirred it vigorously.

He tried again. The nose still wrinkled, but not quite so much at the cooled sweetened version.

“It’s essential. You have to drink coffee if you are to be part of the twenty-first century.”

He nodded doubtfully, took another sip, and then began to spoon muesli into his mouth as I outlined our program for the day. I explained as simply and briefly as possible that I was furthering my career, earning money, and generally promoting myself because I knew him. I said I was his first point of contact with the rest of the world. I also went over what happened when we left the hospital with the paparazzi, telling him that it could happen again. He put down his spoon and looked quite worried at this point. I ignored this and forged on.

“Today, I am taking you to my university, where there will be a deputation ready to meet you.” I knew there were words he would not understand, but hoped he’d get the gist of it. “There is a magazine I write for, and the editors want to meet you. After that, there will be a press conference. Newspapers and magazines are very interested in you, so this will be a chance for them to meet you in a controlled environment.”

Archiv had been in contact with a number of historical publications, and everyone was keen to attend. E-mails had been flying back and forth between me, Archiv, and a broad spectrum of media outlets ever since I had implied that Leddicus would be discharged from the hospital. Mr. Bernard had been adamant that I should not tell them the date.

I poured more coffee and sat. I pondered the weird situation. Here I was, sitting over an innocuous bowl of muesli with an allegedly two thousand-year-old man, trying to prepare him for a press conference of which he had no concept. All he knew was that the people who would be there would be like the paparazzi who had chased him out of the hospital. I was pretty certain he thought they were going to kill him with their flashlights, boom mics, and video cameras. What he didn’t realise was that they could kill him verbally and destroy my reputation if he got it wrong in a few hours time. Leddicus seemed sanguine about all the issues I presented to him and understood more than I expected.

“If you can make some money, that’s good. You have helped me a lot, and you’ve been a good friend. If knowing me helps you do this, I am happy. You deserve it.”

I wasn’t so sure. Every now and then, my conscience would prick me slightly, but then I would imagine my name on the front of magazines and drift off into a fantasy of fame and fortune. I cleared the table and dumped the dishes in the sink. I was too preoccupied to deal with washing up now. My mind was racing. I wondered about the best way to brief Leddicus for the press conference. When I asked Archiv to set it up weeks ago, it seemed such a good idea. Now I was having second thoughts. To say I was anxious would be an understatement.

I left Leddicus in front of the TV while I showered and dressed. Then I sat down and, over my third coffee, made a list of all I needed to take to the university. I was so nervous. I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I systematically packed my briefcase and double-checked that my laptop had the files we needed, and then we set off to the car park.

Sometimes, the childlike fascination Leddicus had for all things modern was quite endearing. Today was not one of those days, and I had to bite my tongue as he pressed the button for every floor as we entered the lift. We made slow progress, eventually entering the car park in twice the time it should have taken.

Leddicus jumped a little as we walked into the pitch-black car park and the full glare of the automated lights kicked in. We headed toward the car, and suddenly, from behind a pillar, a young woman stepped in front of us. I jumped in shock. Leddicus sensed my alarm and stepped back nervously. She was tall, lean, and immaculately dressed in grey trousers and a red jacket. Her straight, chin-length blonde hair shone in the stark fluorescent glare.

“Hello. Are you Gerhardt Shynder?” she said in English

“Who are you?” I snapped, unnerved at the fact that someone had been deliberately standing still in the dark, tricking the sensors into thinking the garage was unoccupied.

She didn’t answer. She stepped past me and stretched out her hand. “You must be Leddicus the Roman.” She smiled brightly and pumped his hand with enthusiasm, much to his consternation and surprise.

I was furious. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?” I asked curtly in a low voice.

She smiled at me sweetly. “Sorry if I startled you. A car just drove out, and I dodged in through the door before it closed.” She talked gently and soothingly. “I really wanted to meet you and Leddicus.” She smiled at him again, and he returned her smile this time.

I was not smiling. “You’re a journalist!” My blood was beginning to boil.

“Well, not quite. I’m a stringer for a number of newspapers. I’m currently based in . I only get paid when I file a story, so I’m sure you will help me by letting me have a quick chat with Leddicus.”

“Not likely!” I stepped in between her and my man. “If you want, you can come to the press conference at St. Gallen Uni at lunchtime today. Ask your questions there.”

“Well, yes, I plan on being there, but I was hoping to have something a little more exclusive.”

Leddicus unexpectedly joined in. “What is your name?”

“Julie. Julie Bright.” She smiled and oozed sweetness.

“Why don’t we have a talk later on? My friend Gerhardt wants to go to the university now, but perhaps we could meet somewhere. Perhaps you could come back here later.”

I was desperate to take back the initiative. My heart was pumping, and I could see all my financial deals with the media slipping away, not least because of the instruction from Mr. Calabro of no exclusive contact.

I tried to buy some time and turned to Leddicus. “Let’s make arrangements after the press conference.”

Julie, still calmly in full control of the situation, also spoke directly to Leddicus. “I would like that, and I’ll speak to you later.” She again shook hands with him and then strode off toward the closed garage doors. She turned to look back us, still smiling and waiting for us to drive out so she could leave.

Anger surged in me, at myself for being so unprepared and at Leddicus for being so friendly. I yanked open the car door, stabbed the key into the ignition, and fired up the engine. I revved it menacingly as I waited for the doors to rise. It seemed to take forever. The tires screeched on the ramp as I flew past Julie, who waved cheerily and then followed us out, ducking under the already-closing doors.

I sighed deeply. This day is not going according to plan. I fought valiantly to calm down as we drove to my university, and I was almost back to normal as we walked through the main doors. I was relieved to find no journalists waiting to pounce on us. When I entered my study area, I was not surprised to see quite a gathering comprising my tutor, the head of department, three of my fellow researchers, the university principal with his secretary in tow, and two of the editors from Archiv.

I introduced Leddicus to each one in turn, and then we sat in a circle of chairs that had already been positioned for this purpose. This may help Leddicus to prepare for the press conference. I instantly dismissed the idea. These people will be polite and kind, unlike my vulture paymasters.

My colleagues, as expected, were kind and patient. They took turns to ask Leddicus the questions I had asked him many weeks before. They didn’t cover any new ground, but it was good they were finally meeting him. It would not do any harm to my credibility. After an hour, the secretary wheeled in the inevitable coffee and biscuits, a tradition to which Leddicus would soon become accustomed. He smilingly accepted the proffered cup of coffee. Only I would notice the slight wrinkle in his nose as the dark liquid flowed over his unaccustomed palate.

With the pleasantries over, my heart began to beat at twice the normal rate. It would soon be time to move into the big hall and participate in the dreaded, yet essential, press conference.

“Joseph, you are well?”

“Eduardo, my friend, I am very well. I have good news. She has made contact.”

“Excellent, excellent. And the Roman? He is well?” Eduardo flicked open a silver cigarette case, extracted a cigarillo, placed it between his fleshy lips, struck a match, and lit up, all with his left hand. He squinted at his watch and took a long drag.

“As far as I could ascertain, he is, and she thought she was well received. She will push to meet them later.”

“Well received? By Shynder?” Mr. Calabro’s eyes darkened.

“No, he was furious. The Roman warmed to her.”

“Good, good. We must meet for dinner soon, Joseph.”

“Indeed we must!”

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