The writer was oblivious to the gun Finn held pointed at him. He kept staring at the ordnance cases.
“Fascinating,” he said. “Absolutely fascinating. I have never before encountered a material even remotely like this. It appears to be of a high molecular weight, containing some manner of synthetic substance as its essential ingredient, possibly derived from a natural substance by some form of chemical treatment. Shaped by flow, undoubtedly, through the application of heat and pressure? Molded or cast. Yes, a laminate of some sort, no?”
“Mr. Verne,” said Finn, “in case it has escaped your notice, I’m pointing a gun at you.”
“Yes, well, mon ami, either you are going to shoot me or you are not. The matter rests entirely in your hands. There is not much I can do about it, in either case.”
Finn glanced at Lucas helplessly. Lucas only shrugged. Andre sat down on the bunk beside Verne.
“Is it your habit to break into a lady’s room and search through her belongings, sir?” she said, putting just the right touch of indignation in her voice. “That is not the way a gentleman behaves.”
“I am not a gentleman, ma chire,” he said. “I am a novelist. Besides, no offense intended, but you are hardly what one would call a lady. One glance at your shoulders and your arms, to say nothing of the way you walk, and an astute observer would instantly perceive you have not had an ounce of pampering in your entire life. As for your compatriot, he looks far more like a strongman than a university professor. And I already know that he is not that. The question is, what are you?”
“Very well, Mr. Verne,” said Finn, putting the Colt away. “I see we are going to have to be forthright with you. I hope we can count on you not to give us away. The fact is, we are reporters-”
“Oh, nonsense,” Verne said, impatiently. He tapped the ordnance cases. “Then how would you explain these?”
“Those are cases containing photographic equipment,” Finn began, but Verne interrupted him.
“You are lying, sir. Perhaps you would care to open them? I would like to see this photographic equipment.”
“All right, look,” Delaney said. “We don’t have to explain anything to you. You broke in here like a common thief.”
“Then call Commander Farragut and demand I be arrested,” Verne said.
The three of them exchanged glances. “I think we’ve got a problem,” Andre said.
Verne leaned back against the bulkhead, crossed his legs and lit a cigarette that he took out of a small, thin silver case. He watched them with curiosity.
“Well, Mr. Verne,” said Lucas, “now that you know we are not what we say we are, the question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“I honestly do not know,” said Verne. “You three intrigue me. Your intentions do not seem to be criminal, else you would have overpowered me and thrown me overboard. An accident. Such things occur. But you are not going to do that, I perceive, so we are at an impasse. You can kill me, but you seem reluctant to do so. I can expose you for the frauds you are, but I have no reason to. At least not at the moment. Aboard this ship, there is hardly any chance of your escape. So what do we do now, my friends?”
Finn looked at Lucas. “Do you believe this guy?”
“He’s got nerve, I’ll give him that,” said Lucas.
“What is in those cases?” Verne said.
“That, Mr. Verne,” said Andre, “is none of your business.”
“Well, if whatever you have in there is any danger to this ship, since I am on this ship, I would say it is very much my business. However, let us see what we can infer. You have boarded this ship under false pretenses. Your intentions may or may not be criminal, though I am disposed to think they are not, else you would have handled my intrusion far more drastically. Obviously, the entire matter centers upon this expedition. You are clearly not what you claim to be. You, sir,” he said, looking at Delaney, “have the appearance of a ruffian, yet I perceive you are an educated man. You,” he glanced at Lucas, “have quite a military bearing and I doubt you lost your eye as a result of some disease or accident. You also limp, albeit very slightly, so I surmise you have seen some fairly recent military action. In the civil war, perhaps. As for you, my dear,” he glanced at Andre, “you intrigue me most of all. Although you hide it well, your physical development is striking for a woman and there is something about your speech that is most interesting. I detect an accent, only the barest trace, something most people would not notice, yet I cannot put my finger upon it. I was initially disposed to think you were French, but you are not French. And then there is the curious matter of these cases, made of some sort of unique material and fastened by locks which seem to operate neither by key nor by combination. Astonishing. Truly astonishing. What can we infer from all of this?”
“Mr. Verne,” said Andre, “you are far too perceptive for your own good.”
“And then there is the matter of your timely arrival, prepared to deal with an intruder. You knew that I-or that someone-was in here, yet I made no noise breaking in and I did not set off any audible alarm. However, an alarm there must have been.”
He got up quickly and walked over to the cabin door. Delaney grabbed him by the arm. “That will do, Verne.”
“Should I cry out?” said Verne.
Finn took a deep breath. “Damn you.” He let him go.
Verne bent down over the door latch, checking it and the area around it carefully. “Aha!” he said. “What have we here?”
He removed a small jackknife from his pocket, opened it, and used the blade to pry the small sensor loose.
“Mon Dieu! So small!”
“Finn, stop him!” Andre said.
“How?” said Delaney.
“Finn! An Irish name,” said Verne. “Am I to suppose that Delaney is your real name, then?”
“Yes, they are our real names,” said Finn, wryly.
“Well then, Finn, my friend,” said Verne, showing him the sensor, “perhaps you could enlighten me as to what this is?”
“You’re doing so damn well, you tell me.”
“What logic tells me it must be, it cannot be,” said Verne. “And yet, I can think of no other explanation. It is an alarm device of some sort, is it not? A miniature transmitter, but on such a scale! It is not possible. Yet, what else can it be? Such sophistication is unheard of.”
“Mr. Verne,” said Lucas, “you have inadvertently uncovered a top secret government mission. What you are holding is a highly classified piece of equipment. I must ask you to return it to me. This is a most delicate situation and you have seriously compromised us. If I cannot be satisfied that you can be trusted to remain silent about all of this, I’m afraid we shall be forced to do something very drastic.”
Verne stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, then handed over the tiny sensor.
“Yes,” he said, “yes, indeed. That you are agents of some sort, that I can believe. But there is much here that strains credulity. You may trust me to keep all this to myself, at least for the time being. I would not wish to force you into doing something very drastic, as you put it.” He pursed his lips and stroked his beard. “But you have given me a great deal to think about. A very great deal, indeed. I shall have to sleep on it. Good night to you.”
He opened the door and walked out as casually as if he had been paying them a quiet social visit.
Finn exhaled heavily and turned to Lucas. “You were saying that he was the least of our problems?” he said. He held up his thumb and forefinger, about a quarter of an inch apart. “He’s that far from figuring out the truth.”
Lucas shook his head. “No, that’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Finn said. “You watch.”
“He’s puzzled, true,” said Lucas, “but there’s just no way he’ll ever guess we’re from a future time. It would be too mind-boggling a concept for him.”
“Only you’re forgetting one thing,” said Finn. “This is the man who invented science fiction.”
Lucas bit his lower lip.