“Okay,” I agreed. I wanted to hear where this was going.

“So let’s say for a while, at least, Gilmartin and Avi were kind of friendly. Collegial, at least. You have to bear in mind that they had something else in common: whatever else these guys were, at heart, they were both ham radio operators. Hams love to talk about their equipment, love to compare the parts they use, the quality of the parts, who builds them, stuff like that. And of course, one of the main things they always focus on is the kind of antenna they use, the kind the next guy uses, what kind of reception they get, what’s the best time of night to send and receive broadcasts using what kind of antenna. The fact that Avi had constructed a horn of plenty antenna—one small enough for an amateur to use, because back then, the only ones that anyone knew of belonged to observatories and you needed a flatbed truck to haul them from one place to another—that would have been a fascinating piece of information. So if he shared it with Howard Gilmartin . . .”

Now, I couldn’t help but interrupt. “So what if he did? That would have been more than thirty years ago, Jack. And maybe the Blue Awareness doesn’t think Howard is dead, but really, we know he is.”

“Yes, but his son isn’t. And from what I understand, Raymond Gilmartin has studied every scrap of information about his father’s life, every document, every memoir. Whatever went on between his father and Avi—good and bad—you can bet Raymond knows about it. And you did tell Ravenette that you’ve got a device she thinks—no, believes—is a Blue Box, because she can’t imagine how anyone but an Aware trained to use one to scan a devotee would have a Box. But Raymond knows how—he knows that Avi Perzin built it. Well, if Ravenette is a Second-Level Aware, she’s certainly got access to the only person who’s ever been awarded First-Level status, and that’s Raymond. So put all this together, Laurie, just like Raymond probably did. It’s not hard to figure out who your uncle’s niece is—I did it in about ten seconds. To begin with, Perzin isn’t exactly the world’s most common surname. Now add in the fact that Haverkit was the only manufacturer thirty, forty years ago that was producing high-quality electronic and radio kit parts and it’s more than likely that whoever was in your apartment was told to look for anything that said Haverkit—after all, if you’ve got Avi’s Blue Box, there’s a chance you’ve also got his radio, no? And then whammo; right on your shelf, there it is. Think about it, kiddo: you gave them all the clues they needed.”

Jack was right. I might as well have drawn them a map to my apartment, handed them the keys and told them to look around. “Crap,” I said, which seemed to sum up exactly how I was feeling about this.

“So back to the antenna,” Jack continued. “I’m sure these days, on the web, you could certainly find the plans for building a small enough horn of plenty antenna to make the radio work the way they want it to—meaning, to be able to draw in signals outside our atmosphere. But I guess they don’t want any antenna—they want the original.”

“But I don’t have it. I’ve told you that. My father cleaned out Avi’s apartment after he died. I took a few things, like the radio and the box, but that’s it. I never even saw the antenna.”

“All right then,” Jack said. “Let’s tell them that. Exactly that.”

“How?”

“I’m going to call Ravenette. As I said, she’s got to have something to do with the creep show they seem to have given you a starring role in. Or at least she’ll know who to pass the message to, and I’m guessing that person’s name is Raymond.”

“You don’t have to call her for me. It’s a good idea, but I could do it myself.”

“Sure you could,” Jack said. “But we’re friends, and friends don’t let friends deal with the Blue Meanies by themselves.” He paused for a moment and then repeated, “Friends. That’s what we are, right?”

“Sure,” I said. “I thought we cleared that up.”

“You’re right,” he replied. “We did. So now, a couple of friends are going to wake up a psychic who seems to have a bunch of friends of her own. Nasty ones.”

I stayed on the line while Jack dialed Ravenette’s number. Once it began ringing, he conferenced me in. When she answered, though, she didn’t sound like she’d been in dreamland. Busy, sleepless—who knew why she sounded wide awake. But Jack decided that he did.

“So you’re up,” Jack said after telling her who was calling. Then, not waiting for her to reply, he added, “Of course you are. You’re a psychic. You knew that we would call.”

Ravenette ignored the jab. But she did pick up on the fact that Jack had implied he wasn’t the only one on the call. “We?” she said. “Who’s we?”

“Laurie Perzin is on the phone with me.”

“Oh really? Well what do you want?”

I thought she sounded annoyed, but in a fake sort of way. There was a note of caution behind her bravado. Jack must have picked up on this, too, because he wasted no time in going after her.

“So tell me something,” he said. “Why is it that you and your buddies can’t do anything in a normal way? Everything has to be weird and mysterious, right? Or downright threatening. And when even that doesn’t work, you send your moviestar poster boy to play games for you. Did it ever occur to any of you that you could just pick up a phone and say Hello, I’d like to talk to you? Isn’t that a lot easier than breaking into someone’s house? And don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I did talk to Laurie,” Ravenette said smoothly. “I’d be happy to talk to her again.”

Exasperated, I finally broke into the conversation. “I’m on the phone,” I reminded her.

“Oh, yes. Yes, you are. Well, Laurie, how are you doing, dear?”

“Come on, Ravenette,” Jack snorted. “Can we just stop this? Laurie doesn’t have the antenna for the radio. She hasn’t even seen it since she was a kid. So you’re just going to have to make contact with your alien overlords some other way, okay?”

“Now I am going to have to tell you that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please. I know the backstory, Ravenette. But maybe it’ll make you feel better if I rephrase. If the aliens are our ancestors, I guess you’re just going to have to wait for them to call you instead of the other way around because Laurie can’t help you out there. So maybe we should get off the line. They could be dialing in at any moment.”

“Don’t mock what we believe, Jack.”

“What you believe,” Jack said acidly, “is that you’re the only ones who know the truth and that makes you special. Smarter than everyone else, so you can do whatever you want to anyone else. Well, you know what that really makes you? A bunch of fanatics. A cult. You’ve just got more money—and a better public relations operation—than most.”

I could hear the controlled fury in Ravenette’s voice as she said, “So that’s what you really think, is it, Jack? Then I guess you won’t be inviting me on the show anymore. Such a pity. I do so love taking those piece-of-shit town cars you send to drive me all the way to the ass end of Brooklyn to that palatial studio of yours. Really, I’ll miss the star treatment. I’ll rue the day. But good luck with all that, Jack. The show, I mean. You’ll need it.” And then she hung up.

The bus had now arrived at my stop. Still holding the phone to my ear, I waved good night to the driver and descended the steps. The bus pulled away—a glowing box of light disappearing down the dark road—leaving me standing alone by the chain-link fence that separated the bay and its bordering marshland from, to use Ravenette’s term, the ass end of my particular urban landscape.

It was a mild night, pretty enough, with a sharp slice of moon overhead and the salty smell of deep water riding in on the currents, so I stayed where I was, leaning against the fence as Jack and I finished our conversation.