“This is not a man,” said Arky, “who is going to give us anything. He’s offering fifty million because he thinks it’s worth more. Considerably more. Advise the council to seek a second offer. You might be surprised at the result.”
Walker’s delight began to drain away. “You seriously expect me to go before them and recommend against this kind of money? When we could conceivably end up with nothing? Even if I did take a stand against the proposal, they’d sweep me aside.” He took a deep breath. “Give me a real reason. If you have one.”
Arky did not like the position he was in. If things went wrong, he knew who would be hanging out there. “If Wells and his people get hold of it, they’ll treat it exclusively as a source of wealth. Who knows what might get lost?”
“That’s not exactly a war cry,” said Walker.
“No, it isn’t. But we may be looking at another Manhattan island.”
“Maybe you weren’t listening, Arky. He isn’t talking twenty-six bucks.”
“Maybe not. But if you want a war cry, keep in mind that we now possess a discovery that may release whole new technologies. The road to the future, Chairman, might run directly across the top of Johnson’s Ridge. And you’re ready to give it away.”
“I’d see it the same way,” said Max. “Take the money and run.”
Arky looked disgusted. “That is precisely what they will do.” He was working his way through a plate of fish and chips. April, Arky, and Max were in a back booth at Mel’s Restaurant in Langdon. It was no longer possible to get near the Prairie Schooner, which was overwhelmed with customers. “The council will feel that it would be criminal to turn down an offer of that magnitude. And, to be honest, I’m not comfortable advising against accepting it.” He looked extremely unhappy. “Do you have any idea what would happen to me if they took my advice and the ridge turned out to be worthless?”
“You’d get scalped?” Max asked innocently.
Arky didn’t seem to have heard. “Not that it matters. They’ll take the money and run. Just as you say.”
“Damn,” said April. “If the project gets sold off, we’ll be out the following day.”
“I don’t think there’s much question about that,” said Max. He listened to the low murmur of conversation around him, to the clink of silverware and occasional bursts of laughter.
“Arky,” April said, “I can’t deal with the prospect of not being here when the discoveries get made.”
The lawyer looked sympathetic. “I know. But I think the matter is past my being able to control events.”
“How long do we have?” asked April.
“Wells’s people probably have teams ready to go as soon as the paper gets signed. There’ll be a special council meeting late tomorrow afternoon to consider the offer. If they approve it, which they will, Wells will make a phone call, and you’ll be history.”
Devil’s Lake, ND, Mar. 15 (AP)—
A consortium of business interests is reported to be ready to offer fifty million dollars to the Devil’s Lake Sioux for the Johnson’s Ridge property on which the Roundhouse, an archeological find rumored to be of extraterrestrial origin, is located. According to informed sources, the tribal council will meet in extraordinary session tomorrow evening to consider the offer, which has been increased several times over the last few days. Officials on both sides declined to comment.
When they got back to the Northstar, there was a package waiting for Max. “Filters,” he explained. “For the minicam. Maybe we can get a better look at what happens when the lights come on.”
They retreated gloomily to their rooms. But minutes later April appeared at Max’s door.
“Come in,” he said. “I was going to call you.”
She looked frantic. “What do we do?”
There was only one chair in the room. Max left it for her and sat down on the bed. “I don’t think there’s much we can do. Not with all that money out there.”
“Max,” she said, “fifty million’s peanuts. Listen, we may have found a link to somewhere else.” She forced it out, as she might an appeal to the supernatural. “The chair did not just get annihilated. It went somewhere.”
“You think.”
“I think.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “Did you know there’s a seventh icon?”
“No,” said Max, surprised. “Where?”
“Beside the ditch. Where they used to tie up the boat.”
Max pictured the area. “On one of the posts?”
“Yes. It’s got a design that looks like a kanji character. It doesn’t light up when you touch it. I even tried putting a chair in the ditch, and it still didn’t work. But Max, I think that’s the way they brought the boat in. Directly from wherever.”
Max shook his head. “I’m sorry. But I just can’t buy any of this. You’re talking Star Trek stuff. ‘Beam me up, Scotty.’ ”
They sat and listened to the wind blow.
“I think it’s really true, Max.”
“Well, good luck proving it. Whatever they are, the icons seem to work only once. What good is a long-range transport system that only works once?”
She pulled her legs up onto the chair and hugged her knees. “I think they work only once because the stuff we’ve been sending blocks the reception area. Somebody has to move it and clear the grid on the other end. If they don’t, the system shuts down.”
“That’s the wildest guesswork I’ve ever heard.”
“Max, we watched the chair fade out. It faded. It didn’t blow up. It didn’t disintegrate. It went somewhere. The question is, where?”
Max shook his head. “I think the whole idea is goofy.”
“Maybe.” April took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think we better tell Arky what we know.”
“You mean, tell him we think we have a portal to another dimension? Or to Mars? He’ll think what I think: It’s goofy.”
Her eyes were pools of despair. “He wouldn’t think that if we did a demonstration for him.”
“What kind of demonstration? All we can do is make things disappear. That doesn’t prove anything.”
Neither of them wanted to state the obvious.
19
April squeezed her eyes shut. The eternal prairie winds shook the windows. She was unnerved, but the conviction that she was right was going to help her get through it.
She heard a car pull up outside. The doors banged, and voices drifted in.
If there were time, she might have devised a test that would remove some of the risk. But there was no time. She sighed. Use it or lose it.
Through the wall, she could hear the mindless burble of Max’s TV.
What were the dangers?
She might be annihilated. But no piece of the chair had remained, and there was no indication of a violent event. It had simply lost its corporeality. It had gone somewhere.
She might find herself in a hostile environment. For example, in a methane atmosphere. But the visitors had presumably thrived in North Dakota. Surely whatever lay on the other side, through the port, was essentially terrestrial.
She might be stranded. But who ever heard of a port you could enter from only one side?