"He doesn't have probable cause to search anybody," Lewis objected.
"Yes, I do. This is a very tiny village, young man, and I have the certainty that my meteorite is in the hands of someone in our colony of twenty-six souls."
"That doesn't make you the Gestapo."
The astrophysicist was miffed at this challenge to his authority. "Nor do you have the right, as a raw newcomer, to call names! Your obstruction is exactly the tactic of a trapped thief!"
"Hey, time out!" Cameron lifted his arms, looking tired. He was irritated with Moss's accusations, but there was a subtle issue of rank here. Rod was station manager but Michael M. Moss was the quintessential Old Antarctic Explorer: an astrophysicist who'd been doing work at the Pole since the 1960s. The National Science Foundation respected this kind of longevity. They liked the guys who came back. Ignoring Moss was a political risk because word of any snub would get back to Washington. The man had become cranky and vindictive as he aged, and it was dangerous to cross him.
"Mickey, we all operate on mutual trust down here," Cameron tried. "You know that. We depend on each other for survival. Making accusations of thievery is like throwing gasoline on a fire."
"So is stealing. I've been here longer, and trusted longer, than anybody."
"Well, I didn't take your rock," Lewis said. He was disappointed that Cameron was allowing himself to be bullied by the headstrong scientist. It wasn't right.
"Then I want this place turned over until we find out who did."
Cameron groaned. "Mickey…"
"I'm not going to let this pass, Rod."
"Are you going to be searched?" Lewis asked.
Moss snorted. "Me! I'm the victim here!"
"How do we know that?"
"You're presumptuous, fingie!"
"Not as presumptuous as you!"
"I'm afraid Lewis has a point," Norse interjected quietly.
Moss looked at the psychologist with annoyance. "Pardon?"
"That you have the plainest motive of all. If the rock seems to have disappeared, you could smuggle and sell it without arousing suspicion. If you have a grudge against someone, like Lewis here, all you have to do is hide the rock and accuse him of stealing it. In fact, you could plant it on him, or anyone else. Maybe you're looking for sympathy. Maybe you've decided the meteorite is actually worthless but still want recognition for what you almost had. I can think of a thousand reasons to suspect you." He shrugged.
"You have a devious mind," Cameron complimented.
"He's full of shit," the astrophysicist corrected.
"Thank you," Norse said. "Occupational requirement."
"What you've suggested is ridiculous," Moss went on.
"I'm just saying that we're dealing with Pandora's box here. You throw accusations around and human emotions begin to burn like gunpowder. We need to think about this carefully. A disappearance occurring in a group small enough for everyone to be searched and questioned, if it comes to that. Does the thief wish to be caught? Did he hide the meteorite where it can't be found? Do we arouse suspicions? A dilemma as old as the first sailing ships, I'm sure."
"I'm glad you're having so much fun, Doc," Cameron said.
Lewis's mind was whirring. Moss? Abby? Who had the most plausible motive?
"Investigating this could prove a nightmare," Norse said. "However, it's just the kind of emotional dilemma I was hoping to explore."
"Then maybe you stole the rock," Cameron said with a sigh. He was visibly aging.
"Indeed. I should be among the first searched, if we decide to take that step. And Doctor Moss. Just as we searched Jed. Anyone with knowledge or motive. If we truly want to investigate this we're going to be making a list and checking it twice. So, the question is indeed, Who? Who knew about the meteorite?"
The others looked uncomfortable, thinking. "Well, I did," Cameron conceded. "I was skeptical about the Lewis hire, a geologist in a weather job. Mickey filled me in, sort of. I probably should have locked up the damn thing. Except there's no place to lock it."
Norse made a checkmark in the air with his finger. "Yes, of course. Lewis?"
"I didn't tell anyone. But Abby said it was common knowledge. Or at least rumor. The meteorite craze is no secret. I'd look for someone who needed money."
"People down here don't care about money," Norse quipped, quoting Cameron.
The station manager scowled. "I heard Geller's got some debt," he allowed. "Tyson's talked about money. Alexi doesn't have any in Russia- "
"Prestige?" Norse interrupted.
The station manager shrugged. "That's wide open. Any scientist. Anyone jealous. Anyone who doesn't like Mickey…"
Moss looked annoyed.
"Which means that Lewis here could actually be a fall guy for the real thief," Norse concluded. "They wait until he arrives and lift the meteorite. Voila, the fingie gets fingered. By accusing Lewis, you might be playing into their hand."
Moss looked at Norse with frank dislike. "I despise your profession, you know."
"And I think you're close to retirement after an arduous career that has yielded you little fame and less money. We have no idea what you intended to do with the rock."
Moss jerked as if stung. Lewis was surprised at the psychologist's apparent willingness to make a powerful enemy. Willingness to come to Jed's aid.
"So, Doc, do we turn over the mattresses?" Cameron asked the psychologist, his tone strained by the sparring. "Strip-search the inmates?"
"That's your decision, of course. I'm just the observer. But we can consider the pros and cons. The danger of any search is it accomplishes nothing while pissing people off. The advantage is it could recover the meteorite."
"How much does that opinion cost?" Moss asked sarcastically.
Norse ignored him.
"Maybe we should sleep on it," Cameron said.
"No!" Moss objected. "That just gives the thief time!"
"I don't advise that, either," Norse said. "Make a decision. We should all pledge ourselves to secrecy about this discussion, of course- but I guarantee the dilemma will be all over the base anyway inside of an hour."
"You don't have a very high opinion of us."
"I don't have a very high opinion of human nature."
Cameron looked gloomy. He was thinking of the station report he'd have to file. "Would a thief really be stupid enough to put it in his room?"
"Yes. Because he might not be after a rock, or money, so much as to satisfy some other psychological need. Criminals betray themselves with regularity. A surprise search could work. Failure, however, might simply encourage our troublemaker. There's no right answer."
"We could just forget about the damn rock," Cameron said.
Norse smiled. "Yes. Forget about several million dollars."
"I don't want to turn the station upside down."
Moss glared. "If you don't, I will. There's science at stake, too, if that rock really hails from Mars. Or even if it doesn't."
Cameron closed his eyes. "People are going to go ape-shit, Mickey."
Moss looked implacable. "I already have."
"Perhaps there's another solution," Norse suggested.
"What's that?" the station manager asked gloomily.
"Jed Lewis here represents opportunity." The psychologist nodded toward the newcomer. "He's a geologist. Our resident expert on all things stony. He should be motivated to clear his name. So I propose two things. First, that with his permission, we search his workplace as well. I don't think we'll find anything, even if he's the thief, but it simply eliminates one of the variables. Then search each of the rest of us in turn, right now, with all four along. Let's not have suspicions linger that any of us have anything obvious to hide."
His eyes polled the others. No one spoke to object.
"Second, let's enlist Lewis as our detective."