Anson leaned forward, his face grim. “I can only tell you one more thing, and it’s something that I’ve never heard directly. I’ve deduced it by piecing things together from what Senta has said at different times when the taliza has taken hold. Whatever the connection is between those names, Senta doesn’t have it anywhere in her conscious mind. And it’s some terrible connection. It’s hidden deep down, and it only comes out at all when she is in taliza-trance.”
Rob was looking skeptical, in spite of Anson’s sincerity of manner and desperate conviction. “I don’t need to tell you how wild all that sounds,” he said. “Even if it’s true, what could I possibly do about it?”
“You can come with me and see Senta, in private. Not now,” Anson added quickly, seeing Rob’s expression. “Next time that it’s convenient for you. I think you may have other word triggers that would produce different memories in Senta. I don’t know what they might be, and I’ve run out of my own ideas without producing any results at all. We can’t help Senta until we know more about her troubles, but there must be some key words that will bring things out into the open. I think you may have the knowledge that will do it, though you are not aware yourself of its significance.”
Anson’s voice was soft and persuasive, but there was no mistaking the pleading tone. Senta Plessey had found at least one supporter who would stick with her through good times and bad.
After a few moments, Rob nodded agreement.
“I don’t know if it will work, but I’ll give it a try. Not for your sake, though, and not for Senta’s. For my own.” He was frowning, with a look that added years to his face. “Ever since I was old enough to understand, I’ve wondered and puzzled about the way my parents died. I was raised by my mother’s sister, and she said that their deaths were from natural causes. But it seemed to me they were too close together, and too strange. My father was killed in a fire in the labs, from unknown causes. A few hours later, thousands of miles away, my mother died in an aircraft crash. The crash was sabotage, a bomb on board, but they never caught the people who did it. It always seemed to me that the same group might have started the fire in the labs and set the bomb in the plane. When I was old enough I tried for years to find evidence, and came up with nothing. No officials were interested in a twenty-year-old case that led nowhere and had no suspects. Finally I just stopped looking and did my best to put it behind me. But you can see where Senta’s words tonight are taking me.”
Anson stood up. “I can. I may be able to help. I can run a full check on everything to do with your parents’ deaths.”
“For something that happened twenty-seven years ago?”
“Certainly.” Anson smiled. “You’d be surprised at what we can find out. All part of the service — that’s why it costs so much. Not in this case, of course. Naturally, there’ll be no charge.”
Rob stared at Anson curiously as the other man went over to the door. “Tell me, how much of this is for Senta and how much is your own curiosity? I suspect it takes a special sort of mind to run an Information Service — and I don’t mean a trick memory.”
Anson became pensive. He rubbed at the bridge of his thin nose, then spread his hands wide. “I wish I could answer that one myself. Even if I tell you that it’s all for Senta, I know from experience that a mystery like this eats away at me, somewhere deep inside my head, until I find answers. Maybe you’ll be able to help all of us, me and you, too. When will it be convenient for you to meet again with Senta?”
“I’ve been thinking about that while we were talking. We could do it at once, but I don’t think that’s the best idea. In a couple more weeks I’ll be going up to see Regulo at his home base. That should give me more of an idea what he’s like, and how his operation there functions. I may pick up things that can help trigger Senta’s memories. Unless you object, I think we ought to wait until I get back.”
Anson didn’t hide his disappointment. “That could mean a month’s delay.”
“Possibly. But whatever it is, it has waited for at least twenty-seven years. I don’t think another month will change anything.”
Anson paused with the door open behind him. “You’re right, I guess. It can wait a few more weeks. The trouble is, I don’t know if I can wait — I was itching to come over and talk to you all evening, ever since we met at the entrance to Way Down. I don’t know why it gets to me. Sometimes, I think I’d be a lot happier as a straightforward gigolo. I have no trouble being accepted as that by most of Senta’s friends.”
I doubt if you would, thought Rob, as he closed the door. Gigolos don’t chew away at problems until four o’clock in the morning. Gigolos don’t run their own, highly profitable, businesses. Gigolos don’t stay and care for lovers who need endless care and attention. Howard Anson was something else, a wasp in a drone’s disguise. There were few like that in the world, and the ones you found had to be savored and cultivated. Senta Plessey was a fortunate woman.
Rob tried to picture her as she must have been thirty years earlier, but the image would not come into focus. When he at last fell asleep, it was Corrie whose face smiled upon his inner eye.
CHAPTER 6: A Voyage to Atlantis
It was three weeks, not two, before Rob had done enough analysis and design work on the beanstalk to feel ready for another meeting. The reference material had been more voluminous than he expected, and his first simple ideas on construction had proved unworkable. On the other hand, he had found time to look at design changes to the Spider. With a little ingenuity, there was no reason that doped silicon cable could not be extruded at the rate that Regulo wanted. All things considered, Rob was satisfied with his progress when Corrie came by to tell him that Regulo had called to find out the status.
“He’s very keen to get moving, and wants to know when you’ll be ready to talk,” she said. She was sitting in the window seat of his apartment, looking out over the breathtaking view of Rio Bay. Assigned by Regulo to remain close to Rob and hurry him along as her top priority, she had watched over his shoulder as he tried different tentative plans for skyhook construction. Rob had been at the point of telling her to get lost for a week when he realized that her comments were both constructive and useful.
She left him alone each afternoon, when she insisted on an intensive spell of physical conditioning. Seeing her now, draped along the window seat in a brief yellow leotard, Rob realized again how easy it would be to misjudge her frailty. She had the slimness of build that often went with long spells of low-gravity environment, but there was no doubt about the tone of the long, smooth muscles in her arms and legs — and he knew from personal experience how strong and supple she was.
“Do you think you could give Regulo what he wants with a video-phone session?” Corrie said, watching the clouds sail in off the ocean.
“Not really. I could do a fair amount like that, but I’d rather handle it in person.” He was still busy at the terminal. “What’s the round-trip signal delay to Atlantis?”
“Long-ish.” Corrie stretched and stood up.
“That’s a woman’s answer.”
“You go to hell, too. Let’s see. Regulo’s been moving a bit farther out over the past few weeks. Last time I checked he was nearly two million kilometers from Earth. That’s thirteen seconds, not counting relay station delays and assuming we can use straight line-of-sight transmission.”
“That’s too long. Too long for me, and you can bet that Regulo won’t want to sit with quarter-minute gaps in the conversation. He values his time much too much for that. I can be ready to leave in the morning. Can you arrange to get us out there tomorrow?”