Seeker (36 page)

There wasn’t much else, about her, or the Margolians. The book was sympathetic to government efforts to placate the people the author consistently referred as disgruntled. There had been concern, he said, at the highest levels of government for the colonists, who would be “far from home,” “determined to proceed on their own,” and “in the hands of well-meaning but irresponsible leaders.”

There had been “government efforts to placate” the Margolians, he said, although these seemed to consist mostly of promises not to prosecute. The offenses that were laid at the door of Williams and his associates consisted generally of charges like “disruption of the common welfare.” He’d been imprisoned twice.

“I couldn’t find anything about the sons,” he said.

“Okay. At least we have a picture now to go with Samantha’s name.”

“She was lovely.”

“Yes.”

“Like you, Chase.”

One of the problems guys always have in a strange apartment is that they don’t know how to turn down the lights.

I showed him.

Alex and I met Windy, at her invitation and Survey’s expense, next evening at Parkwood’s, which is located at a posh country club on the river. I never really felt at home in these places. They’re too formal and too proprietary. You always get the sense that people are too busy being impressed (and trying to
be
impressive) to enjoy themselves.

True to form, Windy had gotten there first. “Good to see you guys,” she said, as we rolled in. “I have to tell you that the people at Survey are absolutely knocked out by your work, Alex.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“I have some news for you.” He leaned forward. “You’re going to be named Survey’s Person of the Year. At our annual ceremony.”

Alex beamed. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“There’ll be a gala. On the eleventh. Can you make it?”

“Sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. And of course I need not remind you that this is strictly not for publication. We’ll make an announcement later this week.”

“Of course.”

The drinks came, and we toasted the Person of the Year. The table was relatively quiet, considering the things that had been happening. Maybe the news that Margolia was nothing but a jungle had dampened Windy’s spirits. Or maybe she was planning to use the evening to negotiate Survey’s rights to the find. We were still waiting for our food to arrive when the operations chief wandered in and pretended to be surprised we were there. “Great show,” he told us. “Magnificent job, Alex.” He was a little man who waved his arms a lot. “When you go back,” he said, “I’d like very much to go with you.”

I looked at Alex. Had he told someone he was going back? He read my expression and signaled
no
.

And then came Jean Webber, from the board of directors. “They’ll be putting your statue up in the Rock Garden,” she said. “The way things are going, you’ll be here to see it.”

The Rock Garden was Survey’s Hall of Fame. Plaques and likenesses of the great explorers were installed there, among flowering trees and whispering fountains. But the honor had always been posthumous.

Alex liked to play the role of a man unaffected by external honors. The only thing that was important to him, he liked to say, was knowing he’d accomplished something worthwhile. But it wasn’t true, of course. He liked accolades as much as the next guy. When the plaudits had poured in for his work during the Christopher Sim affair, he’d been delighted. Just as he was hurt by the reaction of some who claimed he had done more harm than good and should have left things alone.

I had no trouble picturing Alex, with his collar pulled up to hide his identity, slipping into the grotto at night to admire his statue, while claiming by day that it was all nonsense.

They brought our food, fish for him and Windy, fruit dish for me. The wine flowed, and I began to wonder if Windy was trying to lower our resistance. The evening began to take on a pleasant buzz.

Until Louis Ponzio wandered in. He was Survey’s director, and a man whom Alex found hard to stomach. Alex was usually pretty good at masking his reactions, favorable and unfavorable, to other people. But he seemed to struggle with Ponzio, who was a self-important, squeaky, artificially cheerful type. The kind of guy, Alex once said, who, when he was in school, was probably routinely attacked by the other kids. But Ponzio never seemed to notice.

“Well done, Alex,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You really put on a show this time.”

“Thank you. We seem to have been very fortunate.”

Ponzio looked at me, tried to remember my name, gave up, and turned to Windy. She took her cue. “Dr. Ponzio,” she said, “you remember Chase Kolpath. Alex’s associate.”

“Of course,” he said. “Who could forget one so lovely?”

Who, indeed?

He didn’t stay. We hadn’t yet worked out all the details of the rights transfer for the
Seeker
and for Margolia. And I suppose he was smart enough to realize that Survey had its best shot at an outright grant by his staying clear and letting Windy handle things.

He would have been right. During the course of the evening, Windy negotiated access and salvage rights to the
Seeker
and to Margolia. Alex retained the right to make a return voyage and bring back more artifacts, although he accepted limits.

Windy made notes, drank her wine, and put away the fish, pretty much in tandem. And she did it with a flourish. “Very good,” she said, as we finished. “One more thing: We’re going to mount an expedition posthaste. We’ll want you to sit down with the people running the mission and give them all the help you can.”

“Sure,” said Alex, “I’ll be happy to.”

“And, Alex—?”

“Yes.”

“I know this hasn’t entirely turned out the way you would have preferred. But there’s a bigger payoff. This is a monumental find. Whatever happens from here on, you’re up there with Schliemann and Matsui and McMillan.”

The sciences have always missed the point. Theirs is a dream world filled with quantum fluctuations, rubber dimensions, and people who cannot decide whether they are dead or alive. Perception is the only reality.
— Leona Brachtberg,
Last Woman Standing,
1400

For almost two days Alex was the toast of Andiquar. He appeared on
Jennifer in the Morning
and
The Daytime Show
and
Joe Leonard & Co
. Academic heavyweights showed up everywhere to pay him compliments and explain to the public the significance of the discovery. Alex confronted Kolchevsky on
Jennifer
and later on
The Dumas Report
, pointing out the contributions he’d made over the years, while Kolchevsky called him a tomb robber.

On the second night, somebody on the south coast was charged with murdering his wife and throwing the body off a small boat, and the Margolia story was driven out of the headlines.

Alex enjoyed playing the conquering hero and was even willing to show generosity to Kolchevsky. “He stands up for what he believes in,” he told me. “It’s hard to take issue with that.” He even sent a message to him, congratulating him on his performance. He insisted, with a straight face, that he was not rubbing it in.

There was only one uncomfortable moment, which occurred when Ollie Bolton came to our defense.

Speaking on
The Data Drill
, he announced that he was proud to be a colleague of Alex Benedict. “
Alex and I are close friends
,” he said. “
I know him well, and he has always been a credit to the community. If he has perpetrated an outrage, then so have I. If he has gone beyond what is permitted by law, and by a decent regard for the opinions of mankind, then I have gone even farther
.”

“Sanctimonious creep,” said Alex.

“Alex Benedict is right,”
Ollie continued.
“If it weren’t for people like him, many of these remnants of our past would remain adrift for ages. Might, in fact, never be found at all.”

On the day that the South Coast Murder, as it came to be called, took over the media, the weather finally turned, and spring showed up. Birds were warbling, everything was in bloom, and a fragrant breeze was moving the curtains.

Windy called Alex to add her voice to the compliments pouring in. “
You almost had
me
convinced that we need more antiquities dealers
,” she said. “
So you can take it as an honest, but reluctant, appraisal
.”

“Thanks.”

“Something else I’ve been wanting to mention. There’s talk in the office of bringing you on as a consultant. Would you be interested?”

He thought about it. “Windy,” he said finally, “you know you can ask me anything at any time, and I’ll do what I can. But I don’t think I’d want to enter into a formal contract.”

Her expression registered disappointment. “
There’s nothing I can do to persuade you
?”

“No. I’m sorry. But thanks.”

“That’s pretty much what I thought you’d say. But hear me out. We’ll take you both on. The compensation would be steady, wouldn’t take much of your time, and you’d have the sense of satisfaction that comes with knowing you’re making a serious contribution. And we’d approve your sales. That would give you cover.”

“And give Survey control of the business.”

“Alex, it would work well for everyone.”

“I appreciate the offer,” he said.

Bolton also called. “
I’ve been meaning to get to you
,” he said. “
What a magnificent coup. Margolia. How can any of us ever top this
?” He looked genuinely pleased and not at all envious.

“Thank you, Ollie,” Alex said, his voice neutral.

“I wish I’d been with you.”

Alex wasn’t entirely able to hide his contempt. “Or maybe even a bit ahead of us.”

“Oh, yes. I won’t deny that. Anyhow, I’ve ordered a case of the best Kornot wine sent over. Please accept it with my congratulations.”

“You know,” Alex said, when the line was cleared, “I listen to him, and I think maybe Windy is right. Maybe we
are
all thieves.”

“Well, Alex, we can be pretty sure
he
is.”

“Yeah.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “You know, maybe it’s time Dr. Bolton paid a price for Gideon V.”

Three days later I was at Windy’s office with a packet of documents. “Do you know what the Blackmoor Medallions are?”

“Of course.” She took a deep breath. “You don’t mean to tell me he’s found
them
now?”

“No,” I said. “But we’d like Ollie Bolton to think so.” I laid the papers on her desk. The top one stipulated that Alex believed the Medallions were located on a three-centuries-old imperial warship, the
Baluster
.

She registered doubt at first, then began to smile. “Which is where?”

“In orbit around the supergiant star Palea Bengatta. The ship was damaged in the fighting, and they just left it there. What we’d like you to do is pass this up the line to the director’s office. The woman you suspect of giving out information is still there, right?”

“Yes. We haven’t said anything to her.”

“Good. Please keep it that way. For a while.”

She looked at the report. “Palea Bengatta? Where’s that located?”

“It’s on the far side of the Confederacy. In the direction of the Perseus Arm.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just a derelict. There are several of them out there. Left over from the Morindan civil wars.”

“So what’s the point?”

“The
Baluster
was a
battle cruiser
. A search will take months. Maybe years.”

“Have you explained how the Medallions got there?”

“It’s all in the footnotes,” I said. “Madness in high places.”

“And you think Bolton will buy it?”

“We think he’ll find it irresistible.”

Alex had included legitimate (where it could be found) and bogus documentation: the nature of the damage, copies of fleet memoranda, pieces of personal correspondence. “There was, in fact, a story that a member of the administration escaped on a warship with the Medallions, when things started to come apart.” I shrugged. “Who knows what the truth is?”

“You two are something else, you know that?”

There was also an account of Rainbow’s own plans to make the flight.
Leaving in five weeks. As soon as we can get things together
. Sources were named, and it all looked very official.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to see a little poetic justice. I hope it works. By the way, our Margolia mission will be leaving in a week. We’d like to have you and Alex come by for the farewell ceremonies.”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“And maybe we could have Alex say a few words.”

The event was conducted at the newly erected Pierson Hall in the Survey complex. Ponzio was there, of course, and a clutch of politicians. And the exploration team. There were about a dozen of them, and they’d be riding in two ships. VR representations of the ships themselves, the
Exeter
and the
Gonzalez
, floated on either side of the room. I’d once piloted the
Exeter
, which had since been specially modified with state-of-the-art sensors. The
Gonzalez
was loaded with excavation equipment.

Alex wore his best for the occasion: navy jacket, white collar, silver links. Windy introduced us around. “You wouldn’t believe how things have been going here,” she said. “It’s been a circus.”

The hosts passed out snacks and drinks, and as soon as all the scientific people were present, we were moved into a conference room. A man who seemed to be in charge took the podium, everyone quieted, and he introduced Alex, “the gentleman who made the discovery.”

Alex got an enthusiastic round of applause, pointed to me, and said how he couldn’t have done it and so forth. The audience swung around in their seats, I got up, and they clapped heartily. He described how the mission had gone, outlined aspects of the discoveries they might want to pay particular attention to (like finding the ground station at Margolia, which very likely had been located along the equator), showed some pictures, and asked for questions. The first one was a navigational issue, which he passed to me.