The gray man opened the door to the back seat of the Cadillac and motioned Tremain inside. Then he went around and got into the driver's seat. He turned in the seat to face both Tremain and the older man who was already sitting in the back seat. The older man looked familiar to Tremain -- someone he'd seen on television, maybe.
"Reverend Tremain? Charles Fox." Charles Fox was one of the heads of Fox Industries, a very powerful corporation with holdings in just about everything. Yes, he'd seen this man in the news.
"Have you ever seen a ten-carat diamond?" Fox asked pleasantly.
"A what? Excuse me?" Tremain was beyond confused at this point. What in the world was going on with his wife's family? And did she know anything about it?
"They look like this." Fox pulled a small pouch from his pocket and poured the contents into his other hand. Tremain stared -- they were, indeed, very large gems. Fox put them back into the pouch, returned it to his pocket, and sat back in the seat.
"Many years ago, I was checking out a zinc mine as an investment," he said. "I made a wrong turn and wound up ... someplace else." Fox looked at him intensely. A shiver ran up Tremain's back.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"It was some kind of alternate universe," Fox told him. "Of course, I was quick to see the possibilities. From various encounters during my time there, I learned that that world had never known war. It had a technologically advanced civilization that did not rely on petroleum. The possibilities for profit are endless. For instance, at one point I walked into a room that had containers of thousands, perhaps millions, of diamonds like I just showed you. That was just what I managed to snatch and pocket before someone found me in the room.
"I was eventually escorted back here, and the entrance I used was sealed. There are other ways back into that world, though -- obviously your niece found one. They call the openings "Portals"."
That word again. Tremain felt another chill.
"That's what my niece said was in our basement."
The stranger in the driver's seat smiled tightly, as though his face wasn't used to the expression.
"We know about your basement and we already checked it out," he said. "It's already been closed from the other side."
"How do you know that? Tremain was interested.
"I can feel the presence of Portals and where they used to be, although I can't open or close them. Because once ... I lived over there." The stranger removed his sunglasses. Reverend Tremain recoiled. The stranger's eyes were almond-shaped and almost completely black, like a space alien's.
"There are no space aliens," the stranger said, replacing his sunglasses. "My species in nocturnal and tend to be very gifted engineers. Spaceflight is common over there, and is one of the things that interests my current employer."
"Why are you ... here? I mean, rather than wherever you came from?"
"Quite a number of people from my world live here. Studying your society, your oceans, all manner of things. Your niece belongs to one of those families. They can forge connections with your people and erase them as convenient -- your wife has probably forgotten by now that she has a "brother"."
"So what are you here to study?
"I'm not. I was asked to leave. Quite forcefully. I had met my employer, liked him, and made the mistake of suggesting to my people that commerce between the two worlds could benefit both. My people did not agree. I found myself in the corridor of a theater here, and encountered my employer again. He was quick to see the possibilities of teaming up. So. Back to you." The stranger offered a card in a somewhat gray, colorless hand. Tremain took the card and inspected it.
"Fox Industries?" he asked. Again, the odd, tight, almost-smile.
"Who else would be interested and able to get so close to a hostile takeover of two worlds?"
"And your name is ... Loki?"
"My real name would be too difficult for you to pronounce. Loki is close enough. I am available at that number day or night. Or you can reach me through the Fox Industries affiliate switchboard.
"There is only one number here."
"That it to build trust," Loki explained. "Anyone can have a card printed. I've included only my personal number. If you use the internet and call a Fox Industries division, they have all been instructed to find me if anyone mentioned "Loki". He pulled out a sheet of paper. "This is the list of people that we would like for you to keep tabs on." Tremain took it, but didn't recognize any of the names on the list.
"You will eventually," Loki said. "They will find you, and then you should find us. My employers are generous." He nodded to Charles Fox. "Welcome aboard"