Echo (14 page)

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Authors: Jack McDevitt

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“Sure.”

“How big was this thing?”

She held her hand to indicate something a bit more than waist high.

Alex left with a client to evaluate an exhibition set up by the Tempus Institute. He was just lifting away when Jacob announced a call.
“Franz Koeffler,”
he said.
“A reporter. He wants to speak with Alex.”

“Put him through, Jacob,” I said.

I knew Koeffler, though not well. He worked for Transoceanic News, for whom he wrote a column that usually combined science and politics. He was about average size, a little on the heavy side, and had a mildly rumpled look. He spoke with a gravitas that implied his views were not to be taken lightly. Despite that, somehow, he managed to be self-effacing and easy to get along with. He’d become especially interested in Alex over the past couple of years, and had written extensively about the
Seeker
, and about our trip to Salud Afar. He was likable, though, maybe because there was something of the little kid in him.

He blinked on. He was standing with his rear end propped against a desk.
“Chase,”
he said.
“Good to see you again.”

“Hello, Franz. Alex isn’t available at the moment. Can
I
help you?”

“Probably. How about telling me what Alex is after
this
time?”

I tried to look puzzled. “What are we talking about, Franz?”

“Come on, Chase. We know each other too well to play games. Your boss has a talent for uncovering huge stories. What’s he working on now?”

“I don’t think anything special. I know he’s been interested in the Longworth Ruby.” Which, of course, had been worn by Isabella Longworth while she guided the City on the Crag to greatness two thousand years ago. It had disappeared during the assassination and was periodically reported as having been in one place or another over the centuries, but no one could confirm the claims, and nobody had had any luck running it down.

“Sunset Tuttle,”
he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Chase, if you’re not going to talk to me, I’ll just go with what I have. Did Tuttle find something after all?”

“Franz, maybe you need to talk to Alex. I don’t know anything about this.”

“Okay. Have it your way.”
He stood up. Shrugged. Looked disappointed.
“Chase, I thought I could count on you.”

He was about to blink off, but I stopped him. “Wait, Franz. How much do you know?”

“Just enough to whet my appetite. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? I won’t publish anything until you clear it.”

“I’m not free to do that, Franz.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Look. Whatever you have right now: Sit on it. The truth is, we don’t know whether we have anything or not.”

“Aliens?”

“I don’t think so. There’s an outside chance, but I’m pretty sure nothing will come of it. Anyhow, go along with us. If we get a story out of this, Alex will invite you in for an interview.”

“Exclusive?”

“Yes. Of course, we probably wouldn’t be able to hold the story back.”

He made it look like a painful decision.
“When will we know?”

“It’s going to take a while.”

That night, as I slid between the sheets and the lights dimmed, I found myself wishing that we’d never seen the Greengrass posting. It had become simply a matter of Alex’s wanting to satisfy his curiosity about someone’s irrational behavior. There could be no reasonable explanation for what had been happening. At least none that would matter to us. At that point, I just wanted Rachel and her tablet to go away.

Rainbow doesn’t keep early hours. Though I’ve made a habit of arriving at nine most mornings, there’s no requirement that I do so. Alex has always been concerned with productivity rather than with time spent hanging around the office.

Next morning, though, I think I broke some sort of record getting in. I’m not sure why. Maybe I was hoping Alex would say, “Take the day off, and by the way, we’re moving on. We’re giving up on the tablet.” It was just past dawn when I left my own place. Ten minutes later, I landed at the country house, strolled up to the front door, and said hello to Jacob.

“I’m surprised to see you here so early,”
the AI said. He could not keep the smug quality out of his voice. He opened up, and I walked in.

“I don’t guess Alex is up yet?” I said.

“That’s correct. Do you wish me to wake him?”

“No,” I said. “That’s not necessary.”

“As you prefer. As soon as he’s awake, I’ll notify him that you’re here.”
He paused.
“Would you like some breakfast?”

I settled in with pancakes and strawberries. I was finishing when the shower turned on upstairs, and a few minutes later Audree appeared. “He’ll be right down,” she said. She was surprised to find me.

Jacob got her some coffee and toast. “How’s he doing?” I asked.

“You’re talking about the tablet.”

“Yes.”

“He’s annoyed. It’s turned into something of a challenge with this Rachel woman. You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“What did you think of her?”

“She seems okay. Didn’t take kindly to our poking into what she considers her business.”

“I guess not. She went to a lot of trouble to send us out on a pointless chase.”

“I know.” I heard Alex coming down the stairs.

“So what’s she hiding?”

“I’ll give you a call when we find out. I’m inclined to think we try a break-in.”

She laughed. “Chase, you’d look good in a mask.”

Alex came into the room. “Fortunately,” he said, “some of us are still law-abiding, principled citizens of high character.” He wore dark brown slacks and a white pullover that read RAINBOW ENTERPRISES. We’d given a hundred of them away a month before at a gala for antique collectors. “Good morning, Chase,” he continued. “It seems a trifle early for you to be here. Everything okay?”

“More or less.” I paused, and we all looked at one another. “Have we decided to walk away from this thing?”

“Did I say that?”

“I was hoping you would.”

“Well, no. I don’t plan to. But there’s no reason for
you
to be involved.”

“Right.”

Audree took a large bite of the toast. “You sound skeptical, Chase.”

“Alex likes company.”

He opened the refrigerator and got some orange juice. “Where would the world be without women?” he asked.

“So, boss, where do we go from here?”

“We’re not going to be able to get our hands on the thing. So we have to find another way to track down its origin.”

“How?”

“I’m working on it.”

TEN

Let us then seek truth, and pray that, when we come upon it, we do not break a leg.

—Nolan Creel,
The Arnheim Review
, XLII, 17

I spent that evening with Robin at the Top of the World. While I poked at a steak, he looked out over the lights of Andiquar and asked whether we really wanted to find aliens.

“How do you mean?” I asked.

He looked good in the candlelight. He was subdued, happy to be with me, and supportive at a time when I felt I needed it because I was spending a lot of my working time supporting Alex, who was becoming increasingly frustrated. “Life’s pretty good right now,” he said. “Who knows how a race of high-tech aliens might change things. They could be a serious threat. It might be one of those cases of being careful what you wish for.” He stirred his drink, tasted it, and sat back, a guy for whom wisdom consisted in knowing when to cash in your chips. “They might think that rum is a negative force and decide that we shouldn’t have any. For our own good.”

“Robin—”

“Or they might be against sex. Except for reproduction.”

“Ah, yes. Now we get to the heart of the matter.”

I needed him that night, so I took him home.

We were into the weekend. Normally, I don’t work weekends, but that time around I was inclined to make an exception. I arrived at Rainbow in the morning, bright and happy in spite of everything. The world was a playground, and I was on the swings, baby. Jacob greeted me at the door, told me he was surprised to see me arrive once again when I wasn’t expected, adding that I seemed to be making a habit of it, and assuring me that Alex wouldn’t approve. He asked whether he could help with whatever assignments had brought me in on a day off. I said thanks, but I was just going to hang out for a bit.

Alex came down, and I explained again that I knew what day it was but it was okay. We drank our usual morning coffee and talked about some assorted tasks that, since I was there, I might as well take care of. Neither of us mentioned the tablet.

The day, which had started with the promise of sunlight and warm temperatures, turned cool. The sky lost its light, the wind picked up, and a mild rain began to fall. I completed the paperwork for several services we’d rendered, including the transfer of a floor lamp that dated back to the Librano period six thousand years ago. The lamp didn’t work anymore, of course. Oddly, it probably would have been worth less if it did. But it was in exquisite condition. We’d also succeeded in confirming that one of the voices in a radio transmission intercepted near Belarian belonged to the immortal essayist Edouard Melancamp, who had been sitting at home on Barkley Lake, chatting idly with his son-in-law, who was approaching in the
Alexia
. The
Alexia
, a few years later, would explode, killing four hundred people, one of the worst superluminal accidents in history.

Alex spent the rest of the morning upstairs in his office. When, finally, he came down, he offered to take me to lunch. I’d committed to Robin, so I had to pass.

After an entertaining hour at Mojack’s, I settled in for a long afternoon, working on contracts and tracking the provenance of several artifacts at the request of clients: A desk that, its owner maintained, had once been the property of Indio Naramatsu. (It hadn’t.) A captain’s chair that was supposed to have once been installed on the bridge of the
Ranger
. (It also had not.) A communication device that had originally been the property of Clair Pascha—even though the instrument belonged to a different era. And so on. We get a lot of that. People aren’t satisfied with having an antique. They want it to be a piece of history.

The rain didn’t so much stop as gradually exhaust itself, leaving behind a skyful of listless gray clouds. Jack Napier, our delivery guy, brought some shipments that had to be inventoried and added to our available stock. We didn’t keep much on hand. Generally, Rainbow made its money by putting buyers and sellers together. But we didn’t shy away from marketing whatever antiques we were able, through good timing, to acquire.

In the midst of all this, Alex wandered into my office and sat down quietly, pretending to be absorbed in a silver locket that might have been worn by Lara Cheneau, but whose authenticity was not certifiable. I was looking at shipping schedules when he broke the silence: “Rachel called while you were out.”

“Really? What did she have to say?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t here either.” And, of course, Jacob has orders not to relay calls. Alex doesn’t like being tracked everywhere he goes.

“She leave a message?”

“Just that she’d called.”

“You going to call back?”

“I think I’ll let her have the initiative. I’m tired of the mind games.”

“Why do you think she’s calling?”