Free She Wakes by Jack Ketchum Page B

wine on the map, my friend. You’ll see. They’ll be begging for it in America a year from now. As usual your timing is perfect, Chase-your instincts, perfect. I am a lucky man to do business with you.”
        Chase smiled. “And I with you.”
        “Bah! I am a shopkeeper compared with you. So I own a few businesses. So what? We must not bullshit one another. Few men have what you have, feelo.”
        “Few men, I think, would want it.”
        Tasos studied him.
        “You do look tired,” he said. ‘Tired and more.”
        “Maybe.”
        “And not Elaine?”
        “No.”
        “So what is it? We are old friends, eh? So speak to Koonelee Tasos. He is a shopkeeper but his ears are good.”
        “It’s nothing, Tasos.”
        “With you it’s never nothing, Chase.”
        He hesitated. He didn’t know why. It would be a relief to tell somebody. Hell, an immense relief. And Tasos knew all about him, as much as anybody knew. Ever since Chase had moved them into shipping against all odds and advice and they’d made their first fortune together, Tasos had known. If he could help, he would.
        But Chase was wary of involving him. He was as much the captive of this thing now as he had been kneeling humbly at the entrance to the dromos. Something told him he was supposed to be going this alone. That others might be endangered. That, more then anything, was why he hadn’t phoned Elaine.
        What could he tell her that wasn’t a lie? What could he say that wouldn’t involve her somehow?
        The warm, intelligent eyes were waiting.
        He made his decision.
        “All right. Let me order something. Have you got about an hour or so?”
        “I have a lifetime, my friend.”
        He called the waiter over and started talking.
        When he was finished Tasos looked at him and said, “It reminds me of a story they tell here.
        "Two fishermen met a priest along the path to the sea in the middle of the night. Naturally they were surprised to see him there, alone, at such a late hour. So they asked him, where are you going, papas?
        "I am looking for a light," the priest answered. And the fishermen, they don’t know what to think. Perhaps the priest is crazy-it happens. Because he was carrying a lantern, and it was lit, and the light was bright.
        “You see? I think you already have the answers to your questions, Chase. Like the priest, you carry your own light.”
        “I don’t know, Tasos.”
        
***
        
        It was late now. The wine they’d ordered was nearly gone.
        “Listen to me, my friend. You say you hear a voice that tells you you may die here. If that is to be so, then it will be so. There are many worse places to die. We Greeks are fatalists. But we are pragmatists too. You cannot undo this thing that has happened to you. You say that something commands you-then you must listen. And do what it tells you to do. And save your life if you can.”
        “And if I can’t?”
        “Then you must give it up.”
        “You believe that?”
        “I do.”
        He sighed. “I just keep wishing I were drunk or dreaming or some damn thing.”
        Tasos smiled. “Were you drunk or dreaming those times you told me of in Mexico or in England or when you were a child in…where was it? Maine? You were not.
        “You remind me of Our Lord, Chase-at Gethsemane. ‘My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me.’ But the cup never passes. You were born with this gift and it has been good to you. It has made you a rich and-am I wrong?-a not unhappy man. But now perhaps you must pay it back. And it may ask much of you.”
        There was a silence. They watched the gulls in the harbor.
        When at last Chase spoke, his voice was thick with emotion, surprising him.
        “What is it, Tasos? Who is it? Do you believe in