When he got home he pulled out the most recent documents from Dymphna and looked them over. It was dull stuff concerning the dredging of the Houston Ship Channel, and Antoine was once again struck by both the scope and the pettiness of the changes. Why would anyone go to this kind of trouble, much less spend time and energy checking up on people trying to preserve the truth, when the alterations in question were so inconsequential? Or were they? Perhaps it was like the old adage about the stirring of a butterfly’s wings in China, and there was indeed some larger scheme in which saying Sue Campbell christened the Port of Houston with yellow roses instead of white could lead to a significant outcome more than a century hence. Just what that outcome could be or why anyone would desire it over the present was more than Antoine could fathom.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Their plan for storing documents in Jimmy Tennenbaum’s room went smoothly, almost suspiciously so. The door in question could, in fact, be easily opened with an allen wrench or small screwdriver, and with Antoine now providing memory services for both Rory and David, he was watched less closely by Sylvia, who began treating him more like a fellow member of the household staff than as an outsider who should be monitored.
Storing documents in Jimmy’s room proved to be a simple task, since nothing was ever moved. Over the course of a few weeks Antoine was able to take many of the items he and Rafa had been keeping in less secure places and stuff them under Jimmy’s mattress, giving them both peace of mind. Dymphna was reassured by this plan as well, although she cautioned Antoine that he would need a plan for getting back to these documents should he ever fall out of favor with the Tennenbaums.
For now though, that wasn’t Antoine’s biggest concern. What troubled him more was the increasing evidence that all three of them were being watched. Dymphna now had a library security officer escort her to her car after work because she felt unsafe in the parking garage. Rafa reported being followed sometimes when he was out making calls or running errands. And Antoine began to doubt his own sanity, imagining men and women staring at him in public buildings and at large social functions. There was one man in particular who seemed to turn up time and again – tall, dark-haired and with a distinctive nose and jawline that made him stand out in a crowd. Antoine made a point of avoiding him but ran out of options the morning of an important meeting of the Houston PetroBank’s board of directors. The men and women of the board had gone into their meeting, and after visiting with some of the other prompters, Antoine decided to make a run to the first floor Starbuck’s rather than continue to drink the insipid brew on offer. No sooner had he stepped into the elevator than a familiar man slipped in behind him and pressed the button to close the doors.
“You can’t avoid me forever, Mr. Gavin.”
Antoine sucked in his breath but was determined to play it cool. “It’s beginning to look that way.”
“I only want a few minutes of your time. I have a proposition for you. Is that so bad?”
“It depends on the proposition.”
The man smiled, but it was more a reptilian curling of the lips than an expression of friendliness. “We’ll have a nice chat in the lobby and you can draw your own conclusions.”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the building’s lobby. It was sparsely populated at this time of day and the stranger headed toward a cluster of plush chairs in a quiet corner. Seeing that Antoine wasn’t immediately following, he stopped. “You might as well come along,” he said. “I’m under orders to persist until we have this conversation, so if you walk away now, you’ll only be delaying the inevitable.”
Although he bristled at the idea of being pushed around by a stranger, Antoine knew what he said was true. And it wasn’t as if there was much risk to finding out what he wanted, here in a brightly lit public area with help at the ready if there was any real danger. “Can I at least know your name?”
“My apologies.” The man stuck out his hand. “Civus Mechant. Call me Civ.”
“What happened to Mr. Vandemark?”
“It was decided by others in our organization that he wasn’t pursuing you aggressively enough.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Antoine shook the man’s hand reluctantly. “Who do you work for?”
“That’s not important right now. Let’s sit down.”
Antoine chose a chair in clear view of the security desk in case there was trouble.
“How do you like working for Everett Blair, Mr. Gavin? Is it meeting your expectations?”
“I like it just fine,” Antoine said. “If you’re trying to recruit me, you’re wasting your time.”
“That’s not quite the proposition my people have in mind.”
“I don’t do contract, either. Company rules.”
“Really?” Civ gave a smile that wouldn’t have been out of place on a crocodile. “That’s a very interesting assertion, in light of your recent activities with the Tennenbaums. But don’t worry, your little secret is safe with us.”
Antoine fought down an inner chill of panic. It was bad enough this man and his associates knew where he would be each day, but they also seemed familiar with the details of either his bank account, his client relationships, or both. What else did they know?
“What we want is very simple.” Civ leaned forward. “There’s a lot of trouble in the world. I’m sure you’ve noticed. Each new day brings everything from people arguing over petty frustrations to entire nations terrorizing each other in the name of past disagreements and grudges.”
“I’m as unhappy about it as the next guy,” Antoine said. “But there’s no such thing as perfect bliss. A certain amount of conflict is just part of human nature.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. For the first time in human history we have the power to change all that. We can take those old hurts and resentments and turn them into beautiful memories of past concord. The amnesia plague gives us an opportunity to change the past so we can all have a happier future. We want you to be a part of it.” Civ sat up tall, as if he had just won a medal.
“Be part of what? Changing history?”
Civ cast him a patronizing look. “Not right away, of course. You seem to have strong sentiments on that topic and we won’t disturb your little record-saving project. Not yet at any rate. We’re still sounding things out, seeing how much change people will notice. But rest assured that when we’re ready, we will find your latest hiding place and our project will move forward.”
Antoine glared. “Over my dead body.”
“We’d hate to have to go to such extremes.”
“What you’re trying to do is useless. There are too many books, too many resources all over the world. You can’t possibly change them all.”
“Once amnesia has thoroughly infected the global population, we won’t have to,” Civ pointed out. “For now, we’re testing where that tipping point might be. Let go of your idealism, Mr. Gavin, and ask yourself something: how is it any different to change the details of history, as opposed to telling Rory Tennenbaum that her son is alive and well and will call her next week?” His eyes lit up at Antoine’s obvious discomfort. “We know things, Antoine. Not everything, but we do keep tabs.”
“Why me? There are hundreds of prompters in Houston, thousands all over the world—”
“And the most talented ones are on our recruitment list. That’s why we’re having this conversation today.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not leaving Everett Blair.”
Civ grinned. “That’s the best part, my friend. You don’t have to leave at all. If you agree to work with us, we’ll give you a script and your job will be to insert these little memories into your clients’ narratives. They’re small changes, nothing alarming. It’s a very easy job and you’ll be well rewarded.”
Antoine shook his head. “I’m not your friend and there’s no amount of money that would make me agree to something like that.” He stood up, fists clenched as he struggled to maintain his calm. “T
hank you for your interesting offer, but tell your people, whoever they are, that I refuse.”
Without waiting for Civ to reply, he walked rapidly toward the elevators where he joined a knot of people going up. He exited on his floor and headed toward where his fellow prompters were congregated near a window, watching cars and playing Satellite, waiting for messages from their ailing clients in the board meeting. Naomi was in attendance at this particular function, and after looking him up and down, she gave a little smirk. “That must have been some coffee break.”
“What do you mean?” Antoine said, concerned that his consternation showed in his face.
She pointed to his hands. “You’ve obviously hit your caffeine limit for the day.”
Antoine looked where she was pointing and realized he was trembling. He shoved his hands in his pockets and acknowledged that they made a good cup of joe downstairs.
“Maybe I should go get some.”
He took a ragged breath and tried to pull himself together. “Don’t go down there, Naomi. I don’t recommend it at all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Antoine struggled with what to do next. How closely were his movements being tracked? If he told Rafa what had happened, would he be bringing his friend into this mess as well? Or worse, was Rafa already part of it, and his participation in the archive project was a cover? Civ had said that all prompters were being scrutinized. Surely some had been approached with the same offer he was given today. How many had agreed to be part of this misinformation project? He hadn’t asked the specifics of the deal, but any organization with this much reach must be able to deliver something very tempting. Even now, his trusted colleagues might be telling their clients absurd falsehoods, peppering their prompted narratives with everything from harmless white lies to entire rewrites of history.
With doubt now cast on all of Houston’s prompters, including Rafa, he called the only person in town he could think of. She didn’t pick up right away, so Antoine sent a text, then paced, toying with his phone as if he could force Dymphna to reply. Finally the phone buzzed and her name appeared on the screen.
“Thank you for calling me back.”
“I was with a patron with questions about the cinema archive and—”
“We need to meet. Right now. Have you had lunch? Name a place.”
“I already have plans.“
“Change them. I’ll pick you up on the Lamar side of the building. Vietnamese okay?”
“Sure. See you in a few, I guess.”
Twenty minutes later Dymphna slid into Antoine’s Lexus on a windswept corner under lowering gray skies that threatened imminent downpour. “What’s got into you?”
Not knowing if his car was bugged, Antoine shook his head and touched a finger to his lips. “Starving. You?”
Dymphna’s eyes narrowed in curiosity but she played along. “Yeah. Vietnamese sounds great.”
It was a truism that all Texans loved barbeque and Mexican food, but Houstonians were fond of Vietnamese in equal measure. Although what Antoine truly craved in this moment of crisis was the comfort of a bowl of shrimp and grits made the way they did it back home in Charleston, he had found that Singapore noodles made an acceptable substitute, so he pulled into the ample parking lot in front of Kim Son, downtown’s temple to all comestibles Vietnamese. There were smaller, more authentic-feeling Vietnamese shops in the area, but Kim Son was not only a Houston institution but was known to not yet have any amnesiacs in the kitchen.
Antoine declined the upstairs lunch buffet and requested a quiet table on the main floor. After they had placed their order, Dymphna’s polite smile in the presence of the waiter gave way to an expression of utter exasperation. “Are you going to tell me what all this is about, or are you going to keep me wondering?”
“I’m sorry,” Antoine said. “I’m just feeling a little nervous right now.”
“We all are. What’s made it worse all of a sudden?”
He took a deep breath. “You know that guy I told you had been turning up at a lot of the same places I was going? The one who wasn’t a prompter or a client, but was always hanging around?”
“The one you thought was looking at you funny?”
“Yeah. He cornered me today. Got on the elevator with me and made me talk to him.”
Dymphna frowned. “What did he want?”
“Well, at first I thought he was from a rival company, trying to recruit me away from Everett Blair.” Antoine gave an ironic chuckle. “Now I wish he had. It’s bigger than that. A lot bigger. He wants me to misinform my clients according to his specifications.”
“You mean he would tell you what memories to plant in their heads?”
“Exactly.”
Dymphna was still wearing a puzzled look but didn’t seem overly concerned. “I guess it had to happen eventually. Rich and powerful people with faulty memories make great targets for scammers.”
Antoine shook his head. “This isn’t some ‘Tell Mr. Rich Guy he owes me ten grand,’ type of operation. These guys want to change history.”
“You mean history like—”
“Yeah. They know all about our archive project.”
“Dammit.”
She was about to say more but at that moment the waiter arrived with their food and they had to wait with exaggerated patience while he placed entrée platters and bowls of rice, rearranged a few condiments and asked if they needed anything else.
No sooner had he turned his back than Dymphna asked, “Are they the ones behind the discrepancies in the archives?”
“He didn’t say they were, but I suspect so.”
“Do they know where you’ve been hiding everything?”
“They don’t appear to, but these guys will figure it out eventually, just like they know about my contract with the Tennenbaums and the lies I’ve been telling Rory.”
“They were probably the ones who broke into your apartment that time and switched out those first documents.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Have you told Rafa?”
Antoine had just scooped a pile of noodles onto his plate but suddenly wasn’t so sure he was hungry any more. “Apparently I’m not the only prompter being made this offer. He says they have some on their payroll already and…”
“You’re afraid to say anything to Rafa, in case he’s one of them,” Dymphna finished for him. She sighed. “I know it might look right now like you can’t trust anyone, and I know I was skeptical of him at first, but we’ve been working together for a while now and I’m pretty sure he’s on our side.”
“I was thinking the same thing until it occurred to me that it would be a great cover for getting in close and tipping those guys off to my daily whereabouts.” Antoine set down his fork and enumerated on his fingers. “First it was the set of documents that got switched in my apartment the very night I got them. The next morning Rafa suggested there might be a bug in my apartment so he helped me look and couldn’t find it, but what if he knew where it was and offered to help so he could remove it before I saw it for myself? Then there’s the fact that a lot of my movements are known by these guys and they also know about the Tennenbaums. In sum, everything they know, Rafa knows, too.”
“Just because two people know something, that doesn’t mean one taught it to the other.” Dymphna’s words were reasonable but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.
Antoine forced himself to eat a little. “Well, for now I think we need to keep him at arm’s length, make sure our next move doesn’t include him, and then see what happens. I have a feeling these guys aren’t going to give up just because my first answer was no. They’ll be back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
September slid seamlessly into October, with balmy days that would have felt like summer in a more northern city, but were cool comfort after a blazing Houston September. The cicadas ceased their febrile song, the final cue that fall was on its way, even though it would be at least a month before s
weaters would become outdoor wear instead of what one wore to tolerate the city’s frigid offices in summer.
At the library, Dymphna continued copying documents for Rafa, but now they were phonies – duplicates of ordinary data that no one had tried to change. In the meantime, Antoine began slowly moving stored documents out of Jimmy’s room and into obscure places he found in other areas of the house when he wasn’t playing chess with David Tennenbaum or telling Rory about Jimmy’s successful career as a contracts attorney.
The only truly difficult task Antoine faced was keeping Rafa out of the loop on his appointments. They had always watched sports and played pool together, which required planning around their various client commitments. And then there was the fact that having a shared employer meant meetings, appointments and workshops were common knowledge, bantered about at weekly check-in or at inservice sessions. For Antoine to hide his activities was nearly impossible. Nevertheless, he managed to throw Rafa off the trail enough times to have some apparent effect. Civ no longer hovered in the background at public events and Antoine was relieved to think he had stopped the hemorrhage of information, even if it meant distancing himself from a friend.
The illusion of having thrown Civ off track was shattered on a quiet Sunday morning at Hermann Park. Antoine was out for a morning run, enjoying one of his favorite parts of the route, a trail edging the golf course in the shade of high trees. It wasn’t like home, but the towering oaks were sufficiently unlike the slick and glossy Houston he experienced by car that he could imagine himself in some shady burg with old brick homes and well-preserved vestiges of history just around the next corner, instead of this raw new place where nothing was sacred. He had the Centennial Gardens in sight when a man darted out of a stretching area and settled into his pace.
“Nice morning for a little exercise,” Civ said.
“It was a nice morning,” Antoine said, glancing around and plotting his best chance at a quick escape. “I’m not so crazy about it now.”
“Don’t be like that. I’m not offended that you refused my first offer, so why be offended that I made it?” Before Antoine could answer he added, “Let’s run up the mount. We can admire the view from there.”
The last thing Antoine wanted was to continue his morning run with a shady agent at his side, but if he wanted to know who these people were and what they really wanted, there was nothing for it but to play along. And so they ran the pergola walk together and headed up the spiral path of the low hill overlooking the gardens and pavilion. As they reached the crest, Civ pushed the pace, but Antoine sprinted and reached the top first.