A SHADOW FELL ON REUBEN FINE as he crossed the U.N. Plaza. He glanced up and saw what would have been a UFO just sixteen months before. It was a Kinmoku ship, an Imperial Shuttle from the markings, extending a ramp to the roof of the U.N. Building behind him. A few tourists gawked, but of course the locals ignored it. Nothing stays novel in New York for very long. A giggle of Girl Scouts pointed up and one said, "I wonder if the Prince is on it."
"Like you'll ever meet him," said another.
"Scouts, let's stay together now, let's not wander off!" called out their leader. Fine squinted and read "Buffalo" off a patch.
His companion of the morning, an Anglo-Kenyan barrister, said, "I wonder myself."
"John, you wonder who the Prince is dating?"
"I wonder what goes on between our new friends and the Special Council for Extraterrestrial Affairs. If you have noticed, my country is not a member."
"You don't have nukes."
"Neither do Japan or Germany."
"They're not supposed to, no."
"And neither is Israel. Anyway, I certainly shouldn't know anything about it."
"No, of course not." Which meant, maybe, he did know. How many of the UN staff weren't intelligence agents?
"Do you have a luncheon appointment?"
"No."
"Then accompany me?"
"As long as you're paying."
"Ah, the parsimony of the Israelite, ever squeezing the shekels, eh? Perhaps you've heard of this place. It is called 'Grechky's' though it's actually been run by an �migr� family named Godolfin for ages now. Quite popular with we U.N. exiles."
"Where is it?"
"Only a block away. You may not have another chance. The whole block's being leveled soon to put up another high-rise."
"I've heard of the project, but I don't think I've ever been to this place. Exactly where is it?"
"On Second Avenue, one door away from 44th Street."
Reuben Fine had not been in Grechky's Kosher Delicatessen and Restaurant, a name which barely fit over it's frontage. Inside was a line of booths behind the sandwich counter which held the register, and a sort of miniature newsstand at the very front. Most of the magazines and newspapers were in languages other than English. More than half had a picture of the Prince. Seeing the counter girl and liking her earthy smile, he picked out an Israeli magazine, a sort of People/National Enquirer in Hebrew. "You got this quickly," he remarked as he paid the woman at the register.
"It's an electronic reprint," said the young woman. "The print shop is in New Jersey."
"Ah, progress. I suppose the pages are set in Bangalore," said Fine.
"Or in Kenya," said Sterling. "We have one of the better-educated populations of our continent."
"Yes, that's right," said the counter girl. "You must be Mr. Sterling. I'm the 'Anushka' you may have heard tell of."
"Oh, yes. And this is Mr. Reuben Fine, an attorney of some note I have heard, at least from him. I thought you were at Harvard."
"I am. But it's summer. I was going to go to your seminar this morning but my brother is having another crisis with his girlfriend and I had to fill in."
"Which girlfriend?" quipped Reuben Fine.
"Maybe all of them. I dated your son for awhile, Mr. Fine."
"Michael?"
"That would be the one."
<Meaning, don't embarrass yourself, old man.> But Reuben Fine wasn't going to give up just yet. Sterling took his seat discreetly in one of the booths leaving Fine with the girl. Fine pointed to the Prince on the cover of his magazine. "Has he ever been here?"
"Yes. Mama and Papa dragged me out of bed to meet him. That was on my Christmas break."
"Sounds as if they might be matchmaking," said Fine. He swept across the pictures of girls with the Prince. "How about them?"
"That one is Mrs. Chiba's daughter and that one is Pleione Umino, very rich. They're friends. Mama pushed Dov—sorry, I've got another customer."
Reuben Fine joined Sterling at the last booth. Sterling murmured, "No victory roll, I see."
"She's interested, I think. We'll see. Now, what is it you're interested in, John?" There was only one other booth in use at the moment. Taking the last booth implied Sterling wanted privacy.
"Let's begin with how much you know or don't know about our alien friends. Since several of your relatives live with Mrs. Chiba, I rather think you might know some interesting things, or find them out."
The waiter arrived to take their order, giving Reuben time to consider his answer. He delayed it further by remarking, "I wonder what a Haitian is doing working in a kosher delicatessen?"
"I would wonder too, John, but that gentlemen is from Senegal. Reuben, have I offended you?"
"Yes, you have, John. You might have at least gotten your facts straight. I had only one relative--two if you count her child--living with Ms. Chiba. Ginger's been dead for two years now and her daughter went to live with Ginger's parents. They don't get along with the rest of the family. And I've already told you more than I should about my family's business, John."
The waiter arrived with Reuben's coffee. Sterling waited until the waiter was gone before saying: "Reuben, I'm afraid I do have my facts straighter than yourself in this matter. The Hans left Singapore in January. They have been living with Ms. Chiba at the Kinmoku Consulate in California since. Did you know they also adopted another child about the same age?"
"No, I didn't," admitted Reuben Fine. "If you want to get in touch, my son Michael would be better. He does have contact with Ms. Chiba and her friends fairly often. He doesn't often get in touch with me."
"Or you with him, perhaps," Sterling said dryly. "We would rather work through you, if we can."
"Just what do you want? Or maybe I should ask first: Who is 'we?' Why would Kenya be interested in the aliens?"
"Maybe a better question would be: 'Why wouldn't we be interested in the aliens?' Their very presence has had quite a large negative impact. Your President has cut back aid to us and virtually every other African nation even as she has provided it to our new friends. And, of course, there is the matter of the impact of the technologies they have brought with them. We face being left even further behind the United States and the other developed nations. And they frighten us, as they should you, my old friend. Look at the size of some of their ships, as large as Darth Vader's flagship. And they aren't simply special effects."
"We could still blow each other up without any alien help," scorned Reuben Fine. "And you're wrong about the President cutting foreign aid because of the aliens. She promised to do it before she was elected, before they showed up. And, incidentally, before she met Ms. Chiba." Reuben Fine was a man of more curiosity than most, and it was that curiosity as much as his long acquaintance with the Anglo-Kenyan barrister that kept his anger under control. Still, he added: "What's really going on here? This is really all about money, isn't it?"
Sterling didn't answer. Instead he called for the waiter and ordered him to pack his meal to go. He got up, but before he left, he said, "That ship we saw was no doubt delivering someone to speak with the Special Council for Extraterrestrial Affairs. In other words, with the body that seems to be more and more usurping the functions of the Assembly, the Security Council, and even the Secretariat. Smaller or weaker nations such as mine have never had great voices, but now I fear we have none at all. If you should get to know our new friends from across the galaxy better, perhaps you could mention some of our concerns? And, no, it is not merely about money, Reuben."
Reuben Fine stayed to finish his meal. The food was good, very good. He began to struggle through the Israeli magazine he'd bought, naturally turning to the article about Prince Kageshiroˆ and his alleged romances. He had almost forgotten the girl at the register when she slid into the seat that Sterling had vacated. "Shalom. Ma shlomkha?"
"Tov. Ma Shlomkha?"
"Ma Schlomech, shigetz. How much of that can you really understand?"
"Not quite enough. Yeshiva has been awhile. But I've been in Israel enough to know you speak like an Israeli."
"I was married to a sabra for awhile. But neither him nor the land really suited me. Let me look at it for you?"
"All right." He surrendered the magazine. She took it and appeared to be reading. "Anything good?"
"Actually yes, if it's true. It says Prince Kag didn't take either Pleione Umino or Sarah Uer to his prom, but a 'mysterious circus performer.'
"Who are they?" asked Fine.
"Sarah's the oldest daughter of the famous Mrs. Chiba, of course. I've met her. She comes in here sometimes. Once she came with Prince Kag. I wasn't here that time, though."
"She just came in? I thought they lived in California."
"They do, but she's in here quite a lot. I guess she comes in with Prince Kag or his mother. They're at the UN a lot. She always buys a ton of herring," said the Russian girl. Well, a girl compared to Reuben Fine.
"I guess any number of hitchhikers could come on the thing I saw this morning."
"Are you just noticing how big it is?"
"This is the first time I saw it. I mean, I've seen it on TV, but it was the first time . . . " He tried to find a good way to say it. "It's the first time it seemed so real to me."
"Yeah, I guess it is pretty amazing," said Anastasia. "Listen, if you're free, you want to go somewhere?"
"Trying to seduce me, of course," said Anastasia. She recognized Poteet, and asked him why he had appeared in the old courthouse, now a museum.
He replied, "I saw your limousine and asked Mr. Samsonov where you were. Mr. Fine, what are the aliens up to at the U.N.? You were there today, weren't you? Or were you playing hookey with this young lady?"
"I didn't see any aliens. I just saw the ship when I was leaving. But Ms. Godolfin here knows the prince himself, I've discovered."
"Gospodin Fine exaggerates. I met him once. He just came into eat with some friends. My family has a delicatessen near the United Nations headquarters."
"Ms. Godolfin is being a bit too modest. She knows friends of the prince quite well, I think," said Fine.
Anastasia gave him a short, sharp look before turning back to Poteet. "Only as very friendly customers, Mr. Poteet. You were at the criminal court today?"
"I was, I was," said Poteet, nodding slightly.
"The Schussman-Follard case? Is there a verdict yet?" asked Anastasia.
This question surprised Walter Poteet, and Reuben Fine as well. Fine hadn't spoken of the case with her. Poteet said, "A resolution of the case, yes, yes," and added in a more serious tone, "My client changed his mind and accepted a plea bargain. How did you know of this case?"
Reuben held up guiltless hands as the girl spoke again: "I am a law student. The State's case against the youngest one seemed weak. Professor Topf made a remark about it on the last day. Did you want him to wait for a verdict?
"I did, I did. But my young man and especially his mother weighed the bargain offered and took one year over the possibility of far more. I'm surprised even Professor Topf took note of the case at all. Even in legal circles, gossip about your prince and his people are heard much more often than talk about the erosion of opportunities and rights for my people."
"You're not the first person to complain to me about that," said Fine. "Not even today."
While Reuben Fine, Anastasia Godolfin, and Walter Poteet drifted into late afternoon and evening from place to place continuing the same long conversation, in other places:
"So where do you live?" asked Anastasia Godolfin after Walter Poteet, the NAACP lawyer, had finally gone home.
"In Hyde Park," answered Reuben Fine.
"Hyde Park? Like Roosevelt?"
"Not quite, but it's a good-looking place. And it's been a money pit. I took it instead of a fee." He shrugged. "Mostly I sleep in my office during the week if I'm busy. Even with Georgi driving me, it's a long commute."
"Where is it? I'm not an expert on geography."
"Oh, it's on this side of the Hudson and around halfway to Albany."
"So we'll be there at what, midnight?"
"We could be, I suppose."
On the drive up, in the cocoon of the back of his limousine, Reuben Fine's potential conquest began asking him about his wives. "I don't even know that much about Micheal's mother."
"She died before you met him,;" said Fine.
"She was your third wife?"
"No, that was Charmian. I married Angie twice." He shook his head. "Big mistake. Never marry your secretary. But my really big mistake was Candy. Pure lust. She was a showgirl. Lasted ten months. She moved back to Las Vegas before she had Vanilla, and she joined the NGC by the time we were working out child custody. She doesn't want Vanilla 'confused' by a Jewish father."
"Are you that much of a Jew?" asked Anastasia Godolfin.
"Too much for Candy."
Anastasia remarked after a pause, " At least you didn�t marry the same woman again and again."
"Except the first one," retorted Reuben Fine. "But you're right. I hate to make exactly the same mistake twice."
"But Angela Douglass was the special one. First one?"
"Not even close."
"I mean first love, not first—"
"Neither one. My first love was Suzy Hufnagal, seventh grade. The other was some girl I met at a party. She said her name was Roxanne. That was 10th grade. First together, June Sachsenhaus, Harvard, freshman year."
"What became of them?"
"Suzy married a jock who's in congress now. Juney threw me over for a professor. She died a few years ago. What about you?"
"Can I smoke?"
"Roll down the window."
Anastasia did. After a few drags, she said, "I married a man named Avi Kirchner. I met him one summer in Israel and I stayed. He was the real thing, a sabra from one of the old kibbutzes, a real one, still. Not many of those left now, you know. He was enthralling." She took another long drag, and then added, "For awhile."
"And then?"
"Ari was killed by a sniper in Hebron." She had smoked down her cigarette almost to its filter; she lit another from it. "We were getting a divorce, we'd decided—I'd decided. I was waiting until he got back from his month of service." Two long drags this time. "I was pregnant. I decided not to have it."
"And then you found out?"
"No, I did it after I found out. I'd decided before. I did it anyway." She finished her second smoke and looked into his eyes. "Does this change your plans?"
"No," said Reuben Fine. "If I were a woman, I would have had a dozen abortions. I don't seem to have the fidelity gene. And I haven't been so hot as a parent."
Anastasia Godolfin lit up a third cigarette and smoked most of it before saying, "You sound like you want to change."
"Change what?"
After they had made love Anastasia said to Reuben, "Michael said he dated a cousin, but I've forgotten her name, if he ever told me. Did you know about that?"
"Her name was Ginger Han. Didn't Ms. Chiba's daughter tell you about her?"
"No. Why would she?"
"She lived with Ms. Chiba. She had a kid with her husband, before they were married."
"What happened? He didn't go back and marry her, did he?"
"No. She was one of the ones killed at the White House."
"I should have remembered . . . did you know her at all?"
"I met her once. I was in San Francisco, and she asked to see me. Lily was just a few months old then."
"Lily's her child?"
"Yes. Lilith, really. Lilith Chiba." He sat up in bed. "Ginger's mother was the daughter of my father's brother Jonathon. He never left Boston. Anyway, the Boston Fines got really ticked when Pamela married a Chinese guy named Han. So they said maybe ten words a year to each other for forty years. That's opposed to the twenty or thirty they'd say to me. But after Ginger died, the Boston bunch felt like they should reconcile and they asked me to ask Michael to have her reburied in the family plot."
"She was buried in Arlington, wasn't she?"
"She was. Can I have a drag?" After he took one and handed back the cigarette, Fine said, "Lilith went to her grandparents."
"And where are they?"
"I thought they were in Singapore," said Reuben Fine, "but the guy I was talking to in your place tells me they�re living with the Prince and your friend Sarah. But I don�t know whether I should believe him. "
"Really? I could call Sarah. "
"Let me ask around first. Cousin Pamela thinks I�m in with my Boston relatives now and she still hates them. "
Anastasia kissed Reuben, and soon they were making love again.
While Anastasia Godolfin and Reuben Fine lost themselves in each other, dawn crept west across the North Atlantic. The sun was already up in Nova Scotia. From ships approaching the Port of New York, first light was apparent to any sailor�s eyes, but few of the lubbers under the lights of the city took notice of what little sky they could see.