The tourist center was located in the lobby of the depot.
A middle-aged woman welcomed me energetically to the Silver Peak Ski Valley, and placed a cup of coffee in front of me.
I accepted, and gave her Wricht’s address. She punched it into the computer, and a blue star appeared on the wall map behind her, just off a trail about six kilometers west of town. "Marnet Place," she said. "Who are you looking for?"
"Hamel Wricht. An antiquities dealer, probably."
"Oh, yes," she said. "I don’t know about antiquities, but he has a small lodge out there. Anything else you need?"
"No," I said. "Thank you."
I rented a snowbike and, a few minutes later, I arrived outside Wricht’s hotel, which was a white and red three-story lodge with a lot of glass, and about a dozen pairs of skis stacked on its porch.
Several people came out while I watched. They were kids, mostly, college students. Several waved as they passed, and one young woman, who appeared to have had a bit too much to drink, invited me to join them.
I walked up onto the porch, and knocked.
The door opened, revealing a trim, bearded young man who didn’t seem to be much older than the group which had just left. "I’m looking for Hamel Wricht," I said.
He bowed slightly, and stepped back to make room for me. "Do I know you?"
"My name’s Benedict," I said expectantly. "I came about Leisha Tanner."
"Who?" He looked genuinely puzzled. And he also didn’t look like someone who was likely to have an interest in the finer things of this world.
"You have a copy of her journals," I insisted.
"I have no idea what we’re talking about, sir."
Plainly, I had the wrong man. "Is there another Hamel Wricht here somewhere?" I asked. "Your father, perhaps?"
"No." He was starting to pull away.
"Didn’t you respond to a request for material on Leisha Tanner? You said you had a copy of her journals."
"You’ve got me confused with somebody else," he said. "I don’t do anything like that. I rent apartments. Did you want one?"
Outside again, I called Jacob on the link and told him what had happened. He said it seemed unusual.
"Is that the best you have to say?" I asked.
"Apparently the transmission was faked. You may wish to be careful."
That was an uncomfortable thought.
"Someone wanted you away from here," Jacob continued. "Need I point out that we’re dealing with people who have already shown no reluctance to indulge in breaking and entering. If indeed the objective toward which your uncle was working has some intrinsic value, it’s possible that someone wants you out of the way."
"Why send me halfway round the globe to do it?"
"Accidents happen," he said. "And accidents are especially likely when one is traveling. I’m probably being alarmist; but please be careful."
Aircraft schedules weren’t good, and it was a full thirty hours before I got back to Andiquar. No one made any attempt on my life, though I discerned any number of suspicious persons among my fellow travelers. I even found myself wondering whether "they" (as I had now begun to think of my antagonist) would be willing to destroy the intercontinental and everyone on board to get at me. I considered that possibility off and on, while listening periodically for some warning that the magnets were about to quit, or a wing to fall off.
I even considered, wildly, the possibility that Gabe had been murdered.
No. I put the thought away from me. Ridiculous.
Nevertheless, I was glad to get my feet back on solid ground.
It was late evening when my taxi crossed the Melony and started its descent into Northgate. As soon as the house came into view, I knew something was wrong. The windows were dark. Jacob liked light. Anyway, he was programmed to keep the living room cheerfully illuminated when I was out.
"Jacob," I said into the commlink. "Lights, please."
No response. Not even a carrier wave.
"Jacob?"
The pad was in total darkness, out of range of the streetlights. We landed on a newly fallen layer of snow. The meter calculated the fare, and returned my card. "Thank you, Mr. Benedict," it said. "Good evening."
I was out before the door was fully open, walking hastily along the side of the house, climbing onto the porch. The door opened to my touch. That meant the power was off.
I fumbled my way to the kitchen, found a portable lamp, and went down to the utility room. It was cold down there. A few flakes were blowing in through a broken window.
Several electrical cables had been pulled out of their jacks. Just like last time. Who would have thought they’d come back?
I reinserted the lines, felt the reassuring hum of power in the walls, saw lights come on upstairs, and heard Jacob’s voice: "Alex, is that you?"
"Yes." I climbed back up into the kitchen. "I can guess what happened."
"We did not take precautions."
"No," I said. "I meant to, but I never got around to it."
"We did not even reset the burglar alarm. This time, the thieves were able to work at their leisure."
"Are you all right? They didn’t try to get at you again?"
"No. Apparently not. But I think we should consider providing me with a way to defend myself. Possibly a neuric system."
"I’ll think about it."
"Just something to put them out of business. I wouldn’t want to injure anyone."
"Are they gone? Is anyone still here?" I’d been listening for sounds in the upper levels.
"I don’t detect any movement of large animals in the building. What time is it?"
"About nine," I said. "On the twelfth."
"I’ve been down for about eleven hours."
"What did they get?"
"I’m doing an inventory now. All data systems seem to have maintained their integrity. I don’t think they took anything. At least, anything that’s tied in with me. All cataloged items respond. Sensors show disturbance in your bedroom. Something happened there."
Upstairs and toward the back of the house. Jacob had every light in the place on by the time I arrived.
The bed was torn apart: sheets and pillows flung about, and the night table turned over. But nothing else was disturbed. "What?" I said. "What the hell’s going on?"
"I can’t imagine why someone would attack your bed, Alex."
The world seemed suddenly very stark, and very cold. "I think I’ll sleep downstairs tonight, Jacob." I turned away, and then remembered something, and started back into the room.
"The book," said Jacob, understanding immediately.
Walford Candles’s Rumors of Earth had been on the nightstand. But it was nowhere to be seen now. I got down on my knees and looked under the bed. "Do you see it anywhere, Jacob?"
"It is not in the house."
"How about the other Candles books?"
Pause. "They’re here."
"This makes no sense. Is it a rare edition of some sort?"
"No. At least not that I’m aware of."
"Then it could be purchased without any real problem?"
"I’d think rather easily."
I straightened the nightstand, picked up a couple of pillows, and went downstairs. Crazier and crazier.
"Jacob, what do we know about the Llandman expedition?" "I can provide numerous accounts. Several excellent books deal with the subject at length." "I don’t want anything else to read. Tell me what we know."
"Llandman was a respected archaeologist for forty years. He made his reputation on Vlendivol—"
"That’s okay. I think we can skip that. What about the loss of the Regal?"
"1402. Did you know your uncle was along on that one?"
"Yes. But I assumed they just lost an artifact. Apparently, it became a major problem."