Nick had felt himself bridle when Carol had started her comment. There she goes again, he had thought. So sure of herself. So cocky and competitive. Almost like a man. He admitted to himself that he had also been known to make arguments from authority. And she was certainly right in one respect. She had had much more exposure to high technology than he had. Nick decided not to argue with her. This time.
There was a momentary pause in the conversation. Carol was also becoming more sensitive to the dynamic of their interaction. She had noticed in realtime that Nick’s face had tightened when she had suggested that she knew more about technology than he did. Uh oh, had flashed through her mind. Come on, Carol. Be a little more tactful and considerate. She decided to change the subject.
“How long will it take us to reach the marina?” she asked. In her excitement on Thursday afternoon, she had not paid much attention to time during their return trip.
“A little less than two hours,” Nick replied. He laughed. “Unless I get lost. I haven’t used manual guidance in these waters for over five years.”
“And what are you going to say when we get there?”
Nick looked at her. “To whom… about what?” he asked.
“You know. About our dive. About Troy.”
They stared at each other. Nick finally broke the silence. “My vote would be to say nothing about it… until… until we know for certain,” he said quietly. “Then if Troy shows up, there’s no problem.”
“And if he doesn’t ever show up…” Carol’s voice trailed off, “then we, Mr. Williams, are both in very deep shit.” The gravity of their situation was becoming clear to both of them.
“But who do you think will ever believe such an incredible tale?” Nick said after a moment. “Even with your pictures, there’s no really hard evidence to corroborate our story. These days people can create any kind of photo they want on a computer. Remember that murder case in Miami last year, where an alibi photograph was produced and admitted as official evidence? And then later that data processor showed up and blew the whistle?” He paused. Carol was listening intently. “And whoever built that place may be dismantling it at this very moment,” he continued. “Otherwise. why did they let us get away? No. I say we wait awhile. Twenty-four hours or so anyway. And think carefully about what we’re going to do.”
Carol nodded her head affirmatively. “I think I agree with you, although not exactly for the same reasons.” She was aware there was still a journalistic voice inside her that wanted to guard the information for her sensational scoop. She hoped her ambition wasn’t somehow standing in the way of making the right decision for Troy. “But Nick,” Carol said reflectively, “you don’t think we’re endangering Troy in any way by not contacting the authorities?”
“No,” Nick replied immediately. “I suspect that if they were going to kill him, they would have done so already. Or will soon.”
This part of the conversation was too casual for Carol. She walked over to the edge of the boat and stared out at the sea again. She thought of Troy and their wild adventure after they were sucked into the fissure. He had helped her hang together. No question about it. His humor and wit had kept her from falling apart. And he may have well saved her life by deflecting the attention of that thing.
He was a warm, sensitive man underneath that funny exterior, she thought. Very aware. He also seemed to be covering lots of pain. From somewhere. For a moment Carol convinced herself that Troy was all right. After all, they had helped her to escape. Then she wondered why she had never run into him again down there. A seed of doubt was planted in her mind. She squirmed. Damnit. We don’t really know one way or the other. It’s uncertainty again. I hate uncertainty. It’s unfair.
A profound sadness, a deep and disturbing feeling from the past, stirred in Carol. She felt helpless, without any control of the situation. Tears filled her eyes. Nick had come up beside her without saying anything. He saw the tears in her eyes but didn’t comment. He just put his hand over hers for a moment and then removed it.
“Troy was becoming a good friend,” Carol said, starting to hide what she was really feeling. All of a sudden her need to share her true emotions overcame her normal protection mechanisms. She looked down at the water. “But that’s not really why I’m upset just now. I’m crying because of the uncertainty. I can’t stand not knowing.” Carol paused and wiped her eyes.
Nick was quiet. He did not understand exactly what she was saying, but he sensed that something special was about to happen between them. The gentle waves lapped against the side of the boat. “It reminds me of my childhood, right after my father left,” she continued softly. “I kept believing that he would be coming back. All three of us, Richie, my mom, and I, would tell each other that it was just a temporary separation, that someday he would walk through the door and say ‘I’m home.’ At night I would lie in my bed and listen for the sound of his car in the driveway.”
The tears were flowing now, big drops cascading down her cheeks and falling into the vast ocean. “When he would come to pick us up for dinner, or on a Saturday, I would help Mom fix herself up, choose her clothes for her, brush her hair.” Carol choked up for a moment. “After I hugged him at the door, I would always take him to Mother and say, ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’
“For six months this went on. I never knew what I was going to feel from day to day. The uncertainty destroyed me, made me sick. I begged my father to give my mom one more chance. Richie even suggested that he could buy the house next door if he and Mother couldn’t get along. So we could at least all be close together.” Carol smiled grimly and took a huge breath.
“Then my father took my mother to San Francisco for the weekend. I was so excited. For thirty-six hours my heart soared, my future was assured. I was the happiest ten-year-old girl in the San Fernando Valley. But when they came home un Sunday night my mother was very drunk. Her eyes were swollen, her mascara was running, she was a mess. She marched right past Richie and me and went to her room. My dad, Richie, and I stood in the living room, all hugging, and wept together. In that instant I knew it was all over.”
Carol was calming down now but the tears were still there. She looked at Nick, her eyes entreating. “It would have been so much easier if I could have cried one time and been done with it. But no. There was uncertainty, so there was still hope. So every day, every goddamn day, my little heart was broken again.” Carol wiped her eyes one more time. Then she looked out at the ocean and shouted with all her might, “I want to know now, or at least soon, what happened to Troy! Don’t make me wait forever. I can’t take it.”
She turned to Nick. He opened his arms. Without a word she put the side of her face against his chest. He closed his arms around her.
6
NICK reached above the door to Troy’s duplex and found the key on the ledge. He knocked on the door again and opened it cautiously. “Hello,” he called out, “is anybody there?”
Carol followed him into the living room. “I didn’t know you two were such close friends,” she said, after she glanced with amusement at Troy’s motley collection of furniture. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone where I keep my key.”
What Nick was looking for was not in the living room. He walked down the hallway, past the large bedroom with its storehouse of equipment, and into the smaller bedroom where Troy slept. “Actually,” Nick yelled at Carol, who had stopped behind him in the hall opposite the first bedroom and was gawking at the jumble of electronics filling every conceivable cranny, “it was only yesterday that I came over here for the first time. So I don’t really know where… oh, good, I think I’ve found something.” He picked up a sheet of computer printout that was underneath a paperweight on the end table beside Troy’s bed. It was dated January 15, 1994, and contained about twenty names, addresses, and phone numbers.