"Because of the disappearances."
"Right. The police would have looked for any indication that something unusual had happened on the mission. The fact that there doesn't seem to have been a follow-up, that no one searched Tripley's place, seems to indicate they didn't find anything."
"They might have been bought off."
"It's possible." A long silence drew out between them. "Kim," he said, "Matt's right. Why don't you give this a rest?"
She'd have liked to. Kim had no appetite for challenging her boss, for taking on Tripley, for encouraging Solly to think she had become obsessed. But Emily was lost out there somewhere, and somehow it all seemed to be connected. "I can't just walk away from it," she said. "I want to know what happened. And I don't care who gets offended, or who gets sued."
Solly looked at her for a long minute, and nodded. "Let me know if there's anything I can do," he said.
"There is. How can we get a look at those logs?"
He took a deep breath. "We'd have to bribe somebody," he said.
Bribe? "Isn't there a way to do it without breaking the law?"
"None that I know of. So I think where we are is this: You need to decide whether you're as serious as you say. If so-" He shrugged.
Kim had never knowingly violated the law. "We can't do that," she said.
"I didn't think so." Solly looked out of the screen at her, trying to suggest everything would be all right.
"Gotta go," he said.
The screen blanked. She sat staring at it, pushed back in her chair, activated it again and brought up the Autumn. Emily with those wistful eyes looked back at her.
Where are you?
She thought about the terrible days after her disappearance while they waited for news. Her parents had tried to protect her, to reassure her that Emily was coming home, that she'd taken a trip somewhere and they'd be hearing from her at any time. But Kim had seen the hollowness in their eyes, detected the strained voices. She'd known.
They must have assumed from the beginning that she would not be found alive. Murders were extremely rare in Equatoria, seldom exceeding more than a half dozen annually, in a population of six million.
Homicides were usually domestic, but there was still the occasional maniac. The St. Luke killer, so named because of his penchant for leaving biblical verses pinned to the bodies of victims, had rampaged through the northwest during a two-year spree in which he'd murdered seven people. He had been the worst of modern times.
What must have surprised her folks was that the mystery was never solved. No body was ever found.
Set against that, what was a little bribery?
She punched in Solly's code and he appeared onscreen, not looking as surprised as she'd expected.
"Can we arrange it?" she asked.
He looked at her disapprovingly. "Is my lovely associate running amok?"
"Yes," she said. "If that's what it takes. Can we do it?"
"I know somebody," he said.
"How much will it cost?"
"I don't know. Probably a couple of hundred. Let me make some calls, and I'll get back to you."
Kim was scheduled to have lunch with a representative of the Theosophical Society, a Brother Kendrick.
This time, her objective was not to solicit contributions, but to reassure the Society that there would be no long-term deleterious effects from Beacon, thereby persuading them, she hoped, to remove their outspoken opposition to the Institute.
They ate at Kashmir's, which specialized in cuisine from the Sebastian Island chain. Brother Kendrick expressed the Society's concern that the series of novas would make an area of approximately eight million cubic light-years permanently uninhabitable.
Kim pointed out there were no human habitations anywhere close to what the technicians called the target box.
"What about nonhuman habitations?" he asked.
The question stopped her cold.
Brother Kendrick, like almost everyone else on Greenway, was of indeterminate age. But he was inclined to lecture rather than talk. His attitude embodied a barely concealed condescension, his eyes never left her, and it was clear he was speaking through a controlled anger. He wore a neatly trimmed black beard and his hair was cut long. The Theosophists were not among those who adhered to trends.
"There are none in the region," she said. "We did an extensive survey to assure ourselves-"
"-How many star systems are in the affected area?"
"Several hundred," she said.
"Several hundred." He made the number sound as if it bordered on sacrilege. "And we examined the worlds in all these systems?"
"Not in all," she admitted. "Most of the systems have multiple stars and can't maintain planetary bodies in stable orbits. Others don't have worlds in the biozone-"
"Dr. Brandywine." He drew himself up until he seemed all beard, eyes, and backbone. "The truth is we still don't know very much about the origin of life, so it would seem to me somewhat presumptuous to pretend we can state with any degree of certainty what the required conditions are. The only thing we can be sure of is that several hundred systems will receive an extensive radiation bath over the next century or so. We might destroy the very thing we say we're looking for."
The waiter appeared. Kim settled for a salad. She had little appetite for these confrontations. Her companion ordered a dish of steamed rice and cabana eel.
"Brother Kendrick," she said, "we were aware of the danger from the beginning, and we worked extensively over fourteen years to assure ourselves that nothing would be harmed."
His voice softened. "I know you would like to do the right thing, Dr. Brandywine. But it seems to us that we're far too cavalier with these efforts." The waiter brought calder wine and Kim offered, as a toast, the Theosophical Society. Brother Kendrick hesitated. "Under these circumstances, I think that might be inappropriate. Let us drink instead to your health, Dr. Brandywine."
The wine tasted flat. "I can assure you we did everything within reason," she insisted.
"Except stop the event." Kendrick wore a white shirt with a gray ribbon tie and a gray jacket. His eyes were of the same hue, and there was in fact a general grayness about the man that suggested he'd given up on human nature and was now beyond being shocked. Kim felt the full weight of his moral judgment.
"When they tested the first hydrogen bomb," he said, "there was some concern that the explosion would set off a chain reaction. Blow up the entire planet. Scientists felt the chance of such an occurrence was slight, so they took it. Risked everything we ever were, everything we might ever become." He examined his drink, and then downed it in a swallow. "Dr. Brandywine," he said, "how is that action different from what the Institute has done?"
"There's no one in the area," she said again. "No one we could possibly harm."
Bars of sunlight fell across his stern features. "Let us hope you are right."
She was glad to get back to her office. When Matt asked her how the luncheon had gone, she complained that Brother Kendrick had been immovable. No amount of argument about the conditions that had to exist before organic molecules could appear had any effect on him. "He said that anything short of a physical search, everywhere, was inadequate."
"I'm sorry," said Matt. "But we had to make the effort."
"You can have him next time."
"I had him last time." He tapped his desktop. "I thought maybe he'd be receptive to feminine charm."
"You owe me," said Kim.
He nodded. "I'll treat for lunch tomorrow. By the way, Solly was trying to get hold of you."
Solly was in a seminar at the moment, and she had to wait till the end of the afternoon to speak with him.
His image appeared in her office as she was getting ready to go home. "No luck," he said.
"With the Archives? I thought you knew somebody."
"They've got a big integrity push now. Apparently caught one of their people diverting the Archives's funds into her own account." He shrugged. "I'm sorry."
She had dinner that evening on Calico Island with a young man she'd met through the Sea Knights. He was of the class of persons who neither pursued a career nor dedicated themselves to a life of unbridled leisure. A substantial number of people were taking that middle route now, staying away from anything that put routine demands on their time, and instead indulging in a range of academic or other interests.
They spent their lives engaged in drama, or chess, or wallball. They toured the world's beaches, if their resources permitted. Life was short, her date argued, although it was now longer than it had ever been. He had dedicated himself to locating the Marmora, a maglev brig lost somewhere in the middle northern latitudes on the far side of the world.
"Find the Marmora," he said, "and my life will have counted for something."
He sounded like Kile Tripley.
Like Emily, now that she thought of it.
Maybe like herself.
10
Men are so slow-witted and give themselves so easily to the desires of the moment that he who will deceive will always find a willing victim.
-NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI,.
The Prince, II, 1513 C.E.
Kile's widowed mother, Sara Tripley Baines, lived in Eagle Point now, had lived there at the time of the event. A search turned up several hits and a couple of recent pictures: She liked to dress formally, and was quite striking even by the heightened standards of the age. Her bearing demonstrated that she was fully aware of her charms.
Sara was the president of an architectural club which annually awarded a prize for best executed design for a public building. She was on the board of directors of Tupla University, and she remained an active participant in competitive gymnastics. Kim watched a VR of her appearance at a benefit dinner where she tried to persuade the attendees to back a building project. Her delivery was a trifle stodgy, Kim thought, but dreadfully sincere.
Kim consulted the directory for her number, picked up one of the Institute's virtual projectors, and went to a public booth to ensure she could not be connected to the call. She selected a model from the projector's inventory, a tall, redheaded, aristocratic woman, and then punched in Sara's number, audio only, which was, of course, correct practice when calling a stranger.
The house AI answered.
"Hello," said Kim. "This is Kay Braddock calling. I'd like to speak with Sara Baines, please?"
"May I ask what your business is with Mrs. Baines?"
Kim hesitated. "I'm working on a book about the Severin Valley," she said. "I understand she was an eyewitness to the Mount Hope event, and I wondered whether she would be willing to spare a few minutes to provide some details."
The AI asked her to wait, and Kim squirmed. First bribery, now this. What was going to be next?
Burglary?
She recognized Sara's voice. "Kay Braddock?" she said, with perfect diction. "I don't believe I've heard of you."
"I'm probably not well known," said Kim. "Mrs. Baines, I appreciate your talking to me."
Kim's visual signal lit up. An image of the aristocratic redhead had just appeared in front of Sara. "Why did you choose me?" Sara asked.
"I watched you speak to the Tupla alumni last year about the expansion project. You seemed to be very observant, and very concerned about the welfare and history of the community."
"Thank you," she said. "That's kind of you." Sara blinked into view. She was seated in a gray Polynex chair, with a black cat coiled in her lap. She was tall, clear-eyed, no-nonsense, accustomed to being in charge, but pleased at the possibility of appearing in a book. "What kind of book are you writing? It's hard to see what anyone could add to the material that's already been assembled about Mount Hope."
"A woman's perspective. I'm interested in the long-term effects of the disaster on the families of the victims."
"Oh," she said. And there was a catch in her voice, which did nothing to assuage Kim's rising sense of guilt. "I can tell you about that." She cautioned Kim that she had not actually been an eyewitness, that she'd flown down immediately after the event, arriving while the fires were still burning. She described those first hours in general terms, the agony she'd witnessed, the bodies, the hysteria, the sheer empty- eyed shock. She avoided describing her own emotions while facing the increasing probability that her son had been lost.
"Yes," she said, "I knew Kile was back. He called me from the house. In the past, he'd usually spent a few days in Terminal City after completing a flight. He'd get together with people from the Foundation to review the mission. And probably to celebrate a little bit. That's how he was. He liked people, and he had a lot of friends. Pity he didn't do it this time; he wouldn't have been there when the mountain blew up."
"You went first to your son's home?" Kim asked.
"Of course."
"Had it been damaged?"
"There was some water damage. They were wetting everything down. But other than that, no. The villa came through intact."
"But it was empty?"
"Oh yes." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He was gone. Poor Kile. They never did find him." Her eyes clouded. "His flyer was gone too. He must have been in the air, somewhere near the explosion. He used to do that, fly up into the mountains to relax."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Baines." Kim watched her check her blouse, looking for something to adjust. The blouse was green, embroidered with a white design suggesting musical notes. Quite pretty, really.
"It's all right. It's been a long time." She dabbed her eyes.
For the first time in her adult life, Kim saw that she was being cruel. But she pressed ahead. "I wonder if you'd care to tell me what you were thinking, and feeling, when you first went into the villa."
"I'm sure you can guess, Ms. Braddock."
"You were frightened."
"Of course."
"Did you find anything that suggested where he might have gone?"