We got Brian’s voice:
“The money sounds pretty good, Doug. Maybe we ought to—Oops!”
Something tumbled out into the sky and began a long fall toward the ocean.
“Damn,”
said Brian.
“Dropped it.”
“Chase, get a fix.”
“Already done, Alex.”
The container disappeared into the dark.
Alex stared at the radio. “How could you guys be so dumb?”
“Look, Benedict.”
Doug’s voice had acquired an edge.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you want. I really am. But it’s gone now. So I guess that’s the end of it.”
They were making a long turn, starting back toward the mainland. I was still staring down at the sea.
So we rounded up Audree again, and, accompanied by a pair of Environmental Service specialists, we went back out a couple of days later on the
Shanley
, one of the agency’s all-purpose vehicles. To get the
Shanley
, Audree had filed a statement alleging that an archeological “object” was believed to be lying on the ocean floor.
There was nothing in sight that morning except sea and sky. When we got into the area, we descended to an altitude of about a hundred meters and began scanning.
The cabin was a tight fit for five people. I was used to the relatively ample accommodations of the
Belle-Marie
, or, for that matter, any starship. Even the smallest of the superluminals would have been downright spacious contrasted with the APV.
The specialists were Kira Quong, the pilot, and Bailey Anderson, who oversaw the search and retrieval systems. Bailey was a big guy with a good smile whom I immediately liked. Kira was almost as tall as he was, one of the tallest women I’ve ever seen. They were the last two people on the planet you’d want to cram into that cabin. Other than size, Kira was the polar opposite of Bailey, intense, businesslike, no visible sense of humor.
“If you’re going to dump something offshore,” Kira said, “they picked a good spot. The ocean’s fairly deep here. A bit over four kilometers.”
We stayed in the air, circling the site while Bailey tried to find the packing case. “The currents are strong in the area,” he said. “It could have drifted a long way before hitting bottom.” His attention was entirely focused on his screens while he flipped switches and adjusted contrasts. “Do you guys,” he asked, “have any idea how much the case weighed?”
“It needed two guys to lift,” said Alex. “I’d guess probably a couple of hundred pounds.”
“It should have gone directly to the bottom,” I said.
Bailey shook his head. “Not necessarily. In these currents, even a brick could travel a fair distance.” He touched a pad, and the screens went dark.
“How can you see anything?” I asked.
“Anything artificial down there will light up.”
“Anything?”
“Well, anything you’d make a packing case from.”
“There’s something now.” In fact, two blinkers had appeared on the screen.
Bailey tapped his finger on one. “Probably wreckage from a boat. Looks like a spar.
That
one is a piece of electrical equipment, I think.” He studied the picture, made more adjustments. “Yeah, that’s got to be what it is. In any case, it’s not a box.”
“What if it’s buried in the sea bottom, Bailey?” I asked.
“Won’t matter. We can see through the mud.”
Kira looked up from her station. “No question about that,” she said, in a flat voice. “If it’s covered with mud, Bailey will see it.”
Alex looked my way and signaled to be careful. It looked as if we had a broken relationship here. The disquiet in the craft picked up, there was some glaring back and forth, and Bailey’s smile became strained.
We circled the area for more than an hour. “It takes time,” Audree said. “If it’s there, we’ll find it. It’s just a matter of patience.”
Blinkers appeared continually on the display. Bailey studied each one, shook his head, and stored the image so it wouldn’t reappear. Eventually, he hesitated over one, enlarged it, and put his finger on it. He touched a control pad, and numbers showed up on a sideboard. He leaned forward, studied the image, considered the numbers, and nodded. “There it is,” he said.
“You sure?” asked Alex.
“Well, not absolutely. Can’t be positive till we go down and look. But it’s the right configuration.”
“Can we see inside it?” asked Alex.
Bailey shook his head. “Negative.”
“Okay, Kira,” said Audree. “Let’s go.”
Kira’s fingers danced across the controls, the tone of the engines changed, the soft hum of power in the bulkheads became more audible and, somewhere, hatches locked. The
Shanley
eased down onto the surface. We floated for a few moments. Then the water was washing over us, and we began to submerge.
Bailey kept the image on-screen. Kira flipped a switch, and external lights came on. A few fish showed up. “Everybody stay seated,” she said. Her eyes flicked across Bailey, who stared steadily at his monitors. There were more fish. Something big and blubbery passed us on my side. The water got dark.
Bailey read off the depths as we went. “Four hundred.”
“Five hundred.”
“In case you’re wondering,” Audree said, “we’re locked on the container.”
Bailey had a better picture by then. He asked Alex whether it matched the package the two men had carried out of the condo. It did.
Pressure built in my ears as we descended. We were going down at a steep angle, and every now and then the bulkheads creaked. I wondered how deep the
Shanley
could go. Four kilometers sounded pretty far down, but I assured myself Audree wouldn’t take any risks.
She was enjoying herself. She took full advantage of the opportunity to show off her position for Alex. Her demeanor had changed somewhat. Her voice had taken on a note of authority, and she submerged herself—forgive the pun—in overseeing the operation. Not that she did any micro-managing. She was far too smart for anything like that. But there was never any doubt who was in charge of the operation.
We hit thirty-seven hundred meters and began to level off. Gradually, the lights picked up the bottom and played against the mud. Something darted past us.
“It’s dead ahead,” said Bailey. The tension between him and the pilot had not abated, and I was thinking there should be a rule against people who were emotionally involved with each other being on the same crew. At least when they were operating an APV.
“There it is,” Kira said. I didn’t see anything, but Bailey’s panel was beginning to beep.
“I got it,” he said.
The lights picked it up. A rectangular gray container. It was about two feet high, lying on its side. Audree looked over her shoulder at Alex.
“That’s it,” he said.
It lay half-buried.
“It’s yours, Kira,” said Bailey. He tried to get some warmth into his voice.
“I have it,” she said. “Everybody stay seated, please.” We drifted slightly to port. The packing case vanished beneath us, then was picked up by a new set of scanners.
Kira shut down all forward motion, although the currents continued to push against us. “Morley,” she said.
Morley was the AI.
“Yes, Kira?”
“Initiate retrieval.”
Four robotic arms appeared. They locked onto the case and lifted it out of the mud.
We heard a hatch open. Moments later, it closed.
“Retrieval completed, Kira,”
Morley said.
Audree smiled at Alex. “Let’s go topside.”
We had to wait until we were on the surface to get at the case. The lid was cracked, and the box had filled with water. “Probably happened when it hit the surface,” Kira said.
Alex and Bailey turned it on its side and dumped the water out of it. Then Alex found a catch, released it, and removed the lid. My angle wouldn’t let me see, but I heard him grunt. He reached in, pulled out some blanket that had been used for packing. And then removed a brick. “There are more in here if anybody’s interested.”
NINE
Time will reveal whatever is hidden, and it will hide and bury whatever now calls forth splendor.
—Horace,
Epistles
Alex doesn’t usually show a lot of emotion, but he tossed everything back into the ocean, returned to his seat, and took to staring listlessly out the window.
“It’s not the end of the world,” Audree said.
“No.” He managed a smile. “She’s playing games with us.”
“This Rachel has a sick sense of humor.”
“She wants me to give up and go away.”
Audree smiled. “Not used to that kind of treatment from attractive women, are we?”
Alex squeezed her hand and opened his link. “Connect me with Cory,” he said to it.
Audree turned my way. “Who’s Cory?”
“He runs the Antiquity Research Service in West Arkon. Among other things, they can do analyses to determine the age of artifacts—”
“But you don’t have the artifact.”
“That’s right.”
“So—?”
Alex shushed us. “Cory?”
I heard a voice respond. Alex listened. Then: “Got a question for you. We’ve been tracking a marker of unknown origin. We have pictures of it. It looks like something you’d find in a cemetery. Except it has more extensive engraving. Three lines of symbols. It’s probably pretty old. Centuries. Maybe more. Do you think you can get an age estimate on the thing based on pictures?”
The voice replied.
“No,” said Alex, “I don’t think we can get the object itself. We’ve been trying.”
And: “It’s a long story. You really don’t want to hear about the details. Is it possible to get an estimate from the pictures?”
And: “Okay. Hold on a minute. We have two. I’ll send them to you.” He transmitted the images, listened for a minute, said okay, and closed the link.
We hit an air pocket, and the APV bounced around. “Didn’t see that one coming,” said Kira.
“Been a long day,” I said, hoping to lighten the mood. Audree agreed that it had been. And somebody else, I forget who, observed that rain was expected in the Andiquar area that night. Then Alex’s link beeped.
“Go ahead, Corey.”
The cabin went dead silent. I guess we were all listening, trying to hear what was being said at the other end. “Okay,” Alex said, “I guess that’s what I thought.”
Then, a moment later: “If I can figure out a way to do that, I’ll get it to you.”
And, finally: “Right, Corey. Thanks.”
“No luck?” said Audree.
“No. They need 3-D with good definition.”
“Maybe we could burgle the condo,” I said.
Alex was in no mood for humor. “You’d be just the person for the job. But there might be
something
we can do.”
He made an appointment with Madeleine Greengrass, and two hours later we descended onto the pad at number 12, Gold Range. Madeleine had seen us coming, and she was waiting for us when we got to the front door. “Mr. Benedict,” she gushed, “I’m honored to meet you.” The laid-back, casual charmer of my first meeting was gone, overwhelmed by Alex’s celebrity.
She took us inside, where she asked if we’d like something to drink. “Thank you, no,” said Alex. “We’re on the run at the moment.”
“You’re still interested in that rock,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry I let it get away. If I’d known
you
wanted it, I’d have held on to it. But it was such an eyesore, Mr. Benedict. It was just something I wanted to get rid of.”
“Of course,” he said. “I understand.”
“Did you find the people who took it?” She looked my way as if I were somehow responsible.
“It’s complicated,” Alex said. “You posted two pictures at the site.”
“Yes. That’s right. I have them if you’d like to see them.”
“No, we have them, too. But those pictures weren’t originals. Right? The engravings were pretty badly worn. So you smoothed it out.”
“Yes,” she said. “I didn’t think there was any problem with doing that since I wasn’t asking any money for it. I just wanted to get rid of it.”
“Do you have the original pictures?”
She frowned, and we had the answer. “They
became
the cleaned-up copies. I saw no point in making an extra set.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive, Mr. Benedict.”
“All right: One final question?”