“Yes.”
“We’ve also been assuming there was a kidnapping. But I can tell you how things could have happened.”
“Go ahead.”
“Somebody, one or two, take over the ship. They have six days before the Peronovski will arrive. So they go elsewhere in the system.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“It’s not a kidnapping, Alex. They kill everybody. Get rid of the bodies. Then go to wherever the Peronovski found them. With Walker’s help they get aboard without being seen by Alvarez. And all Alvarez finds is an empty ship.”
“Good,” Alex said. “That seems to account for everything.”
I felt pretty good. “Thank you,” I said.
He was smiling, too. “Why?” he asked.
“You mean, what was the motive?”
“Yes.”
“The same thing we’ve been talking about. To prevent Dunninger from completing his work.”
“You think any of these people were capable of murder?”
“I don’t know.”
“I like your solution,” said Alex, “but I just don’t believe it happened that way.
It’s too bloody-handed. And I can’t imagine Boland or White or any of them consenting to commit murder. For any reason.”
“What about Maddy? She was fairly ruthless.”
“Maddy had no motive.”
“Maybe she was bought.”
“To murder six people? And to disappear herself? I don’t think so.” He took a deep breath. “But you agree that there could have been an extra passenger or two on board the Peronovski without the captain’s being aware of it?”
Yes. They could have used the belowdecks compartments. Walker would have had to get extra supplies on board. Extra water. But if he had done that, it could have been managed. The captain has no reason to go prowling around in storage. “I don’t see why not,” I said.
Alex closed his eyes and appeared to go to sleep. We left the storm behind, and the sun reappeared. Two hours later we crossed the Korali Mountains and began our approach to Sabatini. A cloud of vehicles floated through the sky.
Evergreen’s headquarters was located among rolling hills, on the southern gulf. I’d called ahead and established that, yes, they did have a display room that held exhibits and artifacts from their two-century-long history, that it included the Polaris shuttle and a few other items that had been found on the ship, and yes, they would provide a tour.
Our guide was Cory Chalaba, a middle-aged, steely-eyed woman who felt strongly about endangered reefs in the Minoan Sea, overflowing population on half a dozen Confederate worlds, and the recklessness, as she put it, with which people introduced secondary biosystems onto living planets. We sat drinking coffee and munching donuts for about twenty minutes in her office, talking about Evergreen’s role in what she referred to as the human adventure. “Because that’s what it is.
There’s no plan, there are no stated objectives, no thought for the future. All anyone cares about is profit. And power. And that means development.”
“What about Survey?” I asked. “They must make an effective partner for Evergreen. At least you’re not in it alone.”
“Survey’s worst of all.” She was heating up. “They want to find out how a given biosystem develops, how it got to be what it is. And then record its characteristics.
Once they’ve done that, they don’t give a damn what happens to it.” It was easy to imagine her in the protest line outside Dunninger’s lab at Epstein.
The Foundation’s display was both more and less than I’d expected. It consisted primarily of clothing worn by Evergreen collaborators during historic events, instruments used by them, notebooks, pictures, VR records. There were rocks from Grimaldo, where a small band of Evergreen’s people had died trying to protect that world’s giant lizards from hunters who had flocked to it with a vast array of high-tech cannons. Several of the species, according to an accompanying placard, were now extinct. They had the shoulder patch from Sharoun Kapata’s blouse, dating from the Mineral Wars on Dellaconda. Replicas of boats and ships were mounted along the walls, along with their histories. Transported the Ann Kornichov team to the Gables, 1325. And, Rammed and sunk by net-draggers in the skies of Peleus, 1407.
The Polaris shuttle was there, occupying an alcove. It still looked serviceable.
The public wasn’t permitted inside, but we could get up close enough to see everything. Carrying capacity was four. The harness arrangement was different from anything you’d see in a modern vehicle. Heavier, and more intrusive. Cabin design felt old-fashioned, but you’d expect that. Standard set of controls. Standard guidance system. A basic thruster package that could have come right off Belle ’s shuttle. Two storage cabinets behind the backseat, filled with spare parts. And a cargo compartment in the rear, accessible through a separate hatch. The shuttle retained the Polaris and Survey markings.
The rest of the Polaris display was inconsequential, and was stored in two glass cases.
One held a shirt. “Urquhart’s,” Chalaba said. She consulted a notebook. “It was found in the foldaway bed.”
“The Survey people must have missed it,” said Alex.
“Apparently.”
There were also a pen, a remote, a book, and a makeup kit. “The makeup kit, of course, belonged to one of the women. We’re not sure which. The pen, we don’t know. It was found in its holder on the bridge.”
“You’ve done the archeologically correct thing,” Alex said. “Recording the locations of the finds.”
“As if it matters. But yes, our people did a decent job.” She went back to her notes. “The remote is an electronic key of some sort. It was found in the cargo locker of the lander. We don’t know who that belonged to, either.”
“An electronic key?” Alex peered down at it. It was about the size of a candy bar, with five buttons, one red, four blue, and a display. Each button was marked with a symboclass="underline" “What’s it operate?” asked Alex.
Back to the notes. “It doesn’t say. I doubt anybody knows.”
It was hard to imagine why anyone would need a key on the Polaris. Aboard a ship, everything operates off the AI. Or by simple voice command. Or by pushing a button.
“What do you think?” Alex asked me. “Would they need it maybe for the lander?”
“I can’t imagine why,” I said. “No, there’d be no point.”
A remote. In an age when most devices were voice-activated, there’s not much use for it. Kids use them for games. They operate flying models. They open hotel room doors. They can be used to adjust water temperature in pools.
What else?
Alex shook his head. “Anybody have any idea what the symbols mean?”
“The bottom one looks like a negative,” said Chalaba. “Maybe somebody just brought it from home,” she said. “Forgot they had it.”
It looked very much like a standard hotel key. Five buttons: up and down for the elevators, lock and unlock for the apartment, and a transaction button. That would be the red one. The rectangle represented a press pad.
The book was Wilderness of Stars, by Emanuel Placido. It had been a big hit with the environmental people in the last century. “It belonged to White,” Chalaba said.
“We have a virtual copy available if you’d like to see it.”
Alex caught my eyes. Maybe she wrote something in it. Maybe it’s what they’ve been looking for. “Cory,” he said, “since we’re in here, I assume the exhibit area is open to the general public.”
She nodded. “Yes. But we don’t advertise it, so I doubt many people know it’s here.”
He showed her the picture of Barber.
“No,” she said. “I’ve never seen her.”
He gave it to her, along with his code. “It will get you to our office,” he said.
“We’d be grateful if you’d keep an eye open. If she shows up, please give us a call.”
She looked at us suspiciously.
“It’s all right,” he said. “If you’re reluctant to call us, let the Andiquar police know. You’ll want to talk to Inspector Redfield.”
“All right. You mind telling me what it’s about?”
“One other thing,” he said, bypassing the question. “I’d like very much to buy a copy of the key.”