Polaris (21 page)

Alex had taken the call in the living room, as was his custom when representing the corporation. He returned the greeting. “You may know I'm an antiquities dealer,” he said.

Everson knew.
“Oh, I think you're a great deal more than an antiquities dealer, Mr. Benedict. Your reputation as an historian precedes you.”
Well, that was a bit much. But Alex accepted the compliment gracefully, and Everson crossed one leg over the other.
“What can I do for you?”
he asked.

There was a maturity about this guy that belied his age. He leaned forward slightly, conveying the impression he would be intrigued with whatever Alex was about to say. Yet he managed to signal that time was a factor and that a long interview was not in the cards. Say what you have to say, Benedict, and stop taking my time. I had the feeling he knew why we were there. Which put him a step ahead of me.

“I was struck by your disposition of the
Polaris
artifacts,” said Alex.

“Thank you, but it was the least I could do.”

“I didn't mean it as a compliment. It must have occurred to you that, even in their condition after the explosion, they might have retained some value to historians. Or investigators.”

Everson let us see he had no sympathy with that view.
“I really can't imagine what an historian might have hoped to find among them. And the debris would not have engaged any collector's interest. Not in the condition it was in. Did you by any chance see what was left of the artifacts? After the bombing?”

“No. I did not.”

“If you had, Mr. Benedict, you'd not need to raise the issue. By the way, I understand you were there that night.”

“Yes. It wasn't a pleasant evening.”

“I would think not. I hope you weren't injured.”

“No. I came away fine, thank you.”

“Excellent. These madmen.”
He shook his head.
“But they did eventually get the thugs, didn't they? Or did they?”
He allowed himself to look momentarily puzzled.
“I don't know what's happening to the world.”
He got up from the chair. Well, terribly sorry. Have to get back to work.
“Was there anything else?”

Alex refused to be hurried. “You obviously have had some experience with antiquities.”

“Well, in my own small way, perhaps.”

“Anyone who deals with them learns quickly the value of anything that links us to the past.”

“Yes.”

“Would you explain, then, why you—?”

“—Why I reduced everything to ashes before releasing it into orbit? In fact, you're asking the same question again, Mr. Benedict, and I will answer it the same way. It was out of respect. I'm sorry, but that will have to suffice. It is the only reason I have.”

“I see.”

“Now, perhaps I may ask you a question?”

“By all means.”

“What is it you really want to know?”

Alex's face hardened. “I think the bombs at Survey were aimed at the exhibition, not the Mazha.”

“Oh, surely that can't be—”

“A few nights ago, there was an attempt to kill me and an associate.”

He nodded.
“I'm truly sorry to hear it. Why would anyone do such a thing?”

Whatever else he might have been, he wasn't a good actor. He was hiding something. At the very least, prior knowledge of the attempt on our lives.

“I think there's something in the exhibition that somebody finds threatening.”

“Sufficiently threatening to kill for?”

“Apparently.”

He looked shocked. Then insulted.
“And you think
—
”

“—I think you know what it is.”

He laughed.
“Mr. Benedict, I'm sorry you feel that way. But I have no idea what you mean. None whatever.”
He cleared his throat. Departure imminent.
“I wish I could help. But unfortunately I can't. Meantime, if you really believe I'd do something like that, I suggest you go to the authorities. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to work.”

“Why did we do that?” I asked.

“This guy is part of it, Chase. I wanted him to know we understand that. It lets him know that if anything happens to us, somebody will be around to ask more questions.”

“Oh, well, that's good. It could go the other way, too.”

“How's that?”

“They dumped us in the sea to stop us from following Kiernan home. But if you're right, you may have persuaded Everson that we're getting too close to whatever it is they're hiding and that they have no choice but to get rid of us. And do it right this time.”

That possibility seemed not to have occurred to him. “He wouldn't be that foolish, Chase.”

“I hope not. But the next time we decide to do something that puts both our lives on the line, let's talk about it first.”

“Okay.” He looked sheepish. “You're right.”

“You really have no doubt about it, do you? That Everson's involved?”

“None.” He headed for the coffee. “I've been in touch with Soon, with Harold, with Vlad. Nobody's been to visit them. No one's interested in the stuff they have.”

“The plaque, the Bible, and the bracelet.”

He gave me his victory smile. “Am I right?”

“None of them have places where you could hide anything.”

“Exactly.”

“Except maybe the Bible.”

“You can stash a piece of paper in the Bible. Other than that, it doesn't work very well.”

“So it's not a note. Not a message.”

“Not a note, anyhow.”

“Whatever it was, it probably got blown up,” I said. “Ninety-nine percent of the artifacts got taken out by the blast.”

We wandered out onto the deck, which was heated and enclosed. The wind blew steadily against the glass. “Not necessarily,” he said.

“Why do you say that?”

“They would have searched the debris before they burned it. They didn't find what they were looking for.”

“If that's the case, why did they burn everything?”

“Call it an abundance of caution. But I think we can assume that, whatever it is, it's still out there.”

Maddy's jacket and the ship's glass remained in the office. I got up and walked over to them. The
Polaris
seal, the star and the arrowhead, seemed almost prophetic, somehow to predict the destruction of Delta Karpis by the superdense projectile that had lanced into its heart, that had shattered it and charged on.

Next day, we heard from Fenn again. He looked tired. I remembered his telling me once that police officers were like doctors: They shouldn't work
on cases in which they had a personal interest.
“I need to speak with Alex,”
he said.

I hadn't seen him all morning, but I knew he was in the house. The
Polaris
business was beginning to weigh on him. I was pretty sure he was sitting up half the night trying to construct a workable explanation.

The problem was that he was letting the company slide. He was doing the social stuff okay, but he also was responsible to scan the markets to see what was available, what might be coming on-line, what was worth our time. I couldn't do that. I didn't have the background. Or his instincts. My job was communicating with the clients on administrative details and keeping them happy. But without Alex bringing stuff on board our bottom line was beginning to look vulnerable.

Jacob told me he was out back. “Tell him Fenn's on the line.”

Minutes later he wandered into the office.
“You look exhausted,”
the inspector told him.

“Thanks,” he said. “You look pretty sharp yourself.”

“I mean it. Chase, you need to take better care of him.”

“What can I do for you, Fenn?”

“We know who was driving the Venture.”

Alex came to life. “Good man. Who is the bitch?”

“Gina Flambeau.”

“Okay. No surprise there. You have her in custody, right?”

“Not exactly. She's gone missing.”

“She's missing,
too
?”

“Yep. Without a trace.”

“How'd you find who she was?”

“We had her description from Diane Gold. There aren't that many Ventures in the Andiquar area, so on a hunch that Flambeau would turn out to be the person who attacked you, we pulled out pictures of all the young women owners and lessees who fit the general description and showed them to Gold.”

“What do we know about her?”

“Her real name's Teri Barber. She's a schoolteacher. Twenty-four years old. Born off-world. On Korval.”

“We were taken out by a
schoolteacher?
” I said.

He shrugged.
“She came to Rimway four years ago. According to her documents she's from a place called Womble. Graduated from the University of Warburlee. With honors. Majored in humane letters.”

I couldn't restrain a laugh.

They ignored me. Alex said, “You think she might have gone home?”

“We're looking into it.”
Korval was a long way off, literally at the other end of the Confederacy.
“There's no record that a Teri Barber went outbound over the last few days, but she could be traveling under a different name.”
An image took shape off to one side of Fenn's desk. Young woman, black hair cut short, good features, blue eyes, red pullover, gray slacks. Alex came to attention.

“She has an exemplary record as a teacher, by the way. Everybody at the school says she's a princess. The kids, administration, they all love her. They think she walks on water.”
He braced his chin on the palm of his hand.
“The Venture's leased. Long-term. The leasing company has the same address we do.”

It was hard not to stare at the raven-haired woman. I could see why everybody—at least all the males—had such good things to say about her. She reminded me of Maddy. She had the same charge-the-hill, no-nonsense look. Not quite so pronounced, maybe, but then she was considerably younger than Maddy had been.

“Our best guess is that Barber waited near Ida Patrick's house to make sure Kiernan wasn't followed. They knew you folks were on their track. The fact that Kiernan used Chase's name to rent the skimmer tells us that much.”
He frowned.
“I'd guess that was intended to send you a message to back off.”

Alex was silent for a moment. “Barber gave that an exclamation mark,” he said at last. “Fenn, when you catch her, I'd like very much to talk to her.”

“We can't allow that, Alex. Sorry. But I'll do this much: When she explains what's going on, I'll pass it to you. Now, there's one more thing.”

“Name it.”

“We've locked down her quarters. It occurs to me there might be a
connection somewhere we're not aware of. I'd like to have you, and maybe Chase, too, take a virtual tour of her place. You might see something that'll help.”

It's always struck me as odd that despite the vast range of building materials available, people still prefer to live in houses that look as if they're made of stone, brick, or wood. They rarely are, of course. Haven't been for millennia in most places, but it's hard to tell the difference. I suppose it's something in the genes.

Teri Barber had lived in a log-style home atop a wooded hill on Trinity Island, about four hundred kilometers southeast of Andiquar. Big enclosed deck, looking out over the sea. A place where the wind blew all the time. There was a landing halfway down the hill, connected by a creaky wooden staircase on one side with the house and on the other with a pier. The yellow Venture waited on it. A few meters away, a canoe rested in a rack at the edge of the pier.

“Rental property,”
said Fenn.

Alex was visibly impressed. “Where did she teach?” he asked.

“Trinity University. She taught the basic syntax course for first-year students. And classical literature.”

We went down to the pad and inspected the Venture. It was sleek, with swept-back lines. Ideal vehicle for kids, except that it was pricey. “Any sign of the laser?” Alex asked.

Fenn shook his head.
“No weapons of any kind on the premises or in the vehicle.”
The dock rose and fell.
“We aren't finished with it yet, but it doesn't look as if it's going to tell us much.”

We looked inside the Venture but saw no personal belongings.
“This is the way we found it,”
Fenn said.
“She didn't leave anything.”

We went back to the house. Two rockers and a small table stood on the deck. A stack of cordwood was piled against the wall. On one side of the house you could see a stump she apparently used as a chopping block.