She ran through the Selby script several times before she was satisfied. Then she downloaded it into a compupak, had dinner, and went for a long walk in the twilight. The tides on Greenway did not share the rhythmic aspect they would have had under a single satellite. These were up and down all the time, pulled constantly in different directions by Helios and the four moons.
They were at extreme low tide, the ocean far out, more beach exposed than would usually be visible in a month's time. She strolled along the water's edge, letting the waves wash over her feet, watching the stars appear. They looked far away and she wondered again how anything capable of mastering those immense distances could behave so irrationally. Yet there had been the war with Pacifica.
Such things could happen apparently. The people who devised physical theory and constructed jump engines were not the same people who made political decisions, or who allowed themselves to be swept up by the current media craze, or to be ruled by centuries-old traditions that might once have served to hold nations together but had now become counterproductive.
Don't assume that a species is intelligent because it produces intelligent individuals. Brandywine's Corollary.
Maybe in the end she'd be remembered for some such principle rather than the discovery of the Valiant.
She smiled and decided she'd be willing to settle for that.
The next morning she flew over to Bayside Park where she could use a private commbooth, ensuring that even if things went wrong no one would be able to track her down.
The booth was located in a mall along a gravel walkway off the ocean. It was still early in the season, and there were few people abroad: a few university students between classes, some locals taking their constitutionals. No tourists yet. The morning was bright and cloudless, and the air still cool, with a crisp wind coming inshore.
She tied in the Selby program and punched in Tora's number.
The link chimed at the other end.
A couple of kids with balloons chased one another through the mall. She watched the long lines of breakers moving toward the beach.
"Hello?" Tora's voice, audio only.
"Dr. Kane?" It was Kim who spoke, but Tora would be hearing the voice she'd constructed for Selby.
"My name is Gabriel Martin. I was your father's lawyer some years ago."
Kim got a picture. Tora was wearing a light blue shirt and baggy blue slacks. Working clothes. She looked puzzled. "What can I do for you, Mr. Martin?"
Kim sent Selby's image and the construct lawyer, she knew, now materialized in Tora's projection area.
He was a tall, aristocratic figure. "Doctor, let me say first that Markis was a close friend, as well as a client. I owe him a considerable obligation. I won't go into that at the moment; the details don't really matter.
"Unfortunately, I can no longer do anything for him, God rest his soul. But I am in a position to pass along some information that you might find useful."
God rest his soul. That had sounded pretty good when she inserted it. Real lawyer talk to clients. But it sounded so artificial now that she bit her lip and waited to see whether Tora would recognize the charade.
She didn't.
"I appreciate the thought, Mr. Martin. And what information would that be?"
To Tora, the lawyer stood beside an expanse of desktop, covered with disks, pens, and a fat notebook. His wall showed a series of beribboned certificates, plaques, and a picture of Martin shaking hands with the premier himself. "I don't know exactly how to put this, Doctor, because it's only rumor, but I have it on quite reliable sources."
Tora waited for him to come to the point.
Kim stretched the moment out by having Martin advise her that the information he was about to pass on was confidential, and that if she repeated it he would have no choice but to deny everything and to withdraw from any further participation in the proceedings.
"Yes," she said, her impatience starting to show. "Quite so. So what is this about?"
"I understand the government has acquired the Hunter logs. The real ones."
Tora paled and then recovered herself. "I don't know anything about it," she said. "What real logs? I understood the logs were filed in the Archives years ago."
"Dr. Kane." Kim allowed herself to sound simultaneously sympathetic and well informed. "I understand your reluctance to discuss this. We are after all talking about violations of law, are we not? Violations to which you have been party."
"I beg your pardon." Her tone got cold. She had to be wondering just how much her caller knew, and probably more to the point, how much the government had.
"It's quite all right," Kim continued, in Martin's persona. "This information came to me because your father had friends at the highest levels. There are those who don't want to see more damage done to his reputation, nor any harm come to his daughter, nor see his estate embroiled in extensive litigation, as could be the case if certain charges could be shown to have validity. Or even if sufficient doubt could be raised concerning his role in the Mount Hope incident, and possibly in the deaths of Yoshi Amara and Emily Brandywine. I know you were your father's sole heir. And you should be aware that whatever monies or tangible goods you received out of the estate could be attached in any adverse judgment."
She looked cornered. Kim also squirmed under a sudden assault of conscience. But she told herself there was no other way. The woman could have avoided all this by cooperating. "Even at this late date?" asked Tora. "Isn't there a statute of limitations?"
"I'm afraid not. In a case of this type, in which lives have been lost and deliberate falsifications made to cover up responsibility-" He shook his head sadly. Kim had no idea whether that was true, but it didn't matter. Tora was buying it for the moment, and that was all that counted.
"How reliable is your information, Mr. Martin?"
Okay: time to close out. Kim had accomplished what she wanted to do. "It's correct, Dr. Kane."
Tora studied the lawyer's image. "If I need your help, will you be available?"
"Certainly," he said. "I'd be happy to do what I can for you."
"Thank you." Her voice was unsteady.
"I hope I've been of assistance. Good day, Doctor." And Kim disconnected.
She left the booth but used her commlink to call home and tie in with her monitoring system. The tag on the flyer would alert her if Tora went anywhere, just as the tap on the roof would listen in on any calls.
She wandered through the mall. Only a couple of the shops had opened. One carried sporting gear and she was looking at swimsuits when her alert sounded.
"Yes, Shep?" she said into her link.
"She's calling the Mighty Third. The museum. Do you wish to listen?"
"Please."
She heard the far-away ringing. Then an automated voice answered. "Good morning. Mighty Third Memorial Museum."
"May I speak with Mikel Alaam, please?"
"Who may I say is calling?"
"Tora Kane."
"One moment. I'll see if he's in."
While she waited, Kim recalled Markis's tenure as head of The Scarlet Sleeve. And Veronica King.
Hide in Plain Sight.
The Purloined Letter.
An observer would have seen a smile appear at the corners of her lips. I'll be damned, she told herself.
"Hello, Tora. Nice to hear from you. How are you doing?" Kim recognized Mikel's polite tenor.
"Pretty good, thanks, Mikel." She paused. "It's been a while."
"Yes, it has." He was embarrassed, Kim thought. This was probably the first time he'd spoken with her since her father's display came down. "What can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if you were planning on being in the museum later this morning."
"Yes. I'll be here. I have a conference at ten-thirty. Are you coming over?"
"Yes. I thought I'd drop by if it's convenient."
"Tora, I'm sorry about the problem."
"I understand, Mikel. It's not your fault." Her tone suggested otherwise. "When will you be free?"
"The meeting won't last more than an hour. After that I'm at your disposal." Kim detected a reluctance in his voice. He thinks she's coming to plead her father's case.
"Can we manage lunch?" It seemed as much a directive as an invitation.
"Yes. I'd like that. Very much."
There was some small talk, it'll be good to see you again, I've been meaning to call but we've been so busy. Then they agreed how much they were looking forward to seeing each other again and broke the connection.
Good. What to do next?
Hide in Plain Sight.
She'd hoped to follow Tora Kane to the Hunter logs. The risk was that she would destroy the records immediately upon recovery. Kim had hoped she would prove to be too much of a scientist to do that, but one could never be certain. In any case, she'd gotten lucky. She didn't even need to follow the tag, as she'd expected to do. Instead, Kim had been given an opportunity to get there first. To arrange things so that Gabriel Martin's dark warning looked valid.
But time was short.
She called Shepard.
"What can I do for you, Kim?"
"Shep, I want you to bring up a piece of correspondence from the Mighty Third. Duplicate their stationery and give me a letter from them agreeing to see one Jay Braddock today about the Pacifica War assignment. The letter should assure Braddock the run of the place."
"What's the Pacifica War assignment, Kim?"
"Don't worry about it. It doesn't exist."
"You want me to sign it too?"
"Lift Mikel Alaam's signature. He's the director."
"Kim, that's forgery."
"I don't know any other way to put his name on the document."
Shep's electronics were making funny noises. "You know," he said, "you've become a professional bandit."
"Can't be helped."
"Where are you going now?"
"Clothes," she said. "I need a change of clothes."
Kim arrived at the museum at ten-forty, again dressed in male attire and sporting her mustache. She wore a tight undergarment to contain her breasts and a loose-fitting embroidered blouse to hide what she couldn't suppress. Her hair was now bright red. Her flesh tones had been slightly altered, and she wore dark lenses. Mikel himself, she was certain, would not recognize her. She also had two data disks, carefully labeled, in her pocket.
She flashed a congenial smile at a young woman in the administrative offices, altered her voice as best she could, and asked confidently for the director. "My name's Jay Braddock," she said. "I'm a researcher with Professor Teasdale." Teasdale was the prizewinning historian of the Pacifica War era.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Braddock-" said the young woman.
"Dr. Braddock-" Kim corrected gently.
"Dr. Braddock, but he's in conference at the moment." Her name tag identified her as Wilma LaJanne.
Kim decided she was a graduate student.
"This is unfortunate," Kim persisted.
Wilma checked her computer. "His schedule isn't free until midafternoon."
"That can't be right," Kim said. With considerable dignity she produced the letter Shep had prepared for her. "I have an appointment. At ten forty-five."
Wilma looked at the letter, frowned, and moved her lower lip back and forth. "I don't know what to tell you, Dr. Braddock. I'll inform him when he comes out that you're here. There's not much more I can do."
"When do you expect the meeting to be over?"
"About eleven-thirty, sir. But it's really hard to say."
"That won't do at all," Kim said. "Not at all. I'm on a deadline, you understand. Professor Teasdale is not going to be happy." She contrived to look pained and then glanced hopefully at Wilma, inviting her to volunteer. When she didn't, Kim folded her arms and smiled at the young woman. "I wonder if you might be able to help. I don't really need much."
"I'd like to," she said doubtfully. "But I've only been at the museum for a couple of weeks."
Kim retrieved her letter, folded it, and slipped it into a pocket. "You know who Professor Teasdale is, right?" A nod. "You may also know she's working on a definitive history of the Pacifica War."
"Yes," she said, taking a stab, "I had heard."
"The museum had until recently a display on the 376 and the battle of Armagon. Back in the east wing."
"Yes. We took it down just a week or so ago. After the truth came out about Markis Kane."
Kim let her dismay show. "That was a terrible business, wasn't it?"