“Hello,” Alex said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Can I be of assistance?”
“I hope so. We’re doing some research on Garnett Baylee. He was an archeologist. Pretty well-known. And he was a customer here some years ago. We’re working on a book about him, and we were wondering if anyone here might remember him?”
“You’d have to see Ms. Peterson. What kind of information are you looking for?”
“Anything personal. Everybody liked Professor Baylee, and we’re hoping to find some background material. Anecdotes. Anything at all.”
“Hold on a second.” She got up and went into an adjoining office.
The sign changed, and a submersible appeared. Let us take you for the cruise of your life. Visit Miami. Reasonable rates.
And moments later: Enjoy time at sea with your friends. Friendly Rates from Friendly Tours.
She returned, accompanied by a lean, smiling woman in a blue-and-white blouse. “Your name, sir?” she asked.
“Alex Benedict.”
She glanced in my direction. Hazel eyes framed by soft brown hair. There was something almost mischievous in her smile. “You’re working on a book about Garnett Baylee?”
“That’s correct.”
“My name’s Polly Peterson. It’s been a lot of years since we’ve seen Garnett. How is he doing?”
“He died quite a while ago.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear it. He was a good man.”
“He was. He also earned a solid reputation as an archeologist. But you probably knew that.”
“Yes. I believe I did hear something along those lines.”
“Could you tell us anything about him? Did he talk to you about any projects he was working on? Anything like that?”
She went behind the counter and consulted the computer. “May I ask what kind of book?”
“A biography.”
“I see. Well—” She shrugged. “We took him out on a number of different occasions. Usually, he just wanted to go for a cruise. He loved the sea. He usually brought friends with him. They’d go out and have parties. I got the impression they were usually coming off a work assignment of some sort. There’s only one time that we have listed where he had a specific destination.”
“And that was—?”
“The museum.”
“The Space Museum?”
“That’s correct.”
“Did he go in a submarine?”
She consulted the computer again. “No. They went diving.”
“You say they. Can you tell me who was with him?”
She squinted at the display. “He was apparently alone on that occasion. The only one with him was my brother, Khaled. He would of course have accompanied him on the dive.”
“Of course.” Alex looked up at the sign. A schooner was now visible under a full moon. Try our moonlight cruise. “Okay. Do you know what he did at the museum? What he saw? What affected him?”
“Why don’t we go into my office?” She held the door for us. “You really need to talk to Khaled about that, Alex.” She smiled.
The office was small, but the chairs were comfortable. There were more pictures of people in scuba and diving gear, of the company pier and office, and of groups of happy-looking customers in nautical clothing.
“I’d like very much to do that. Can we set it up? What I’d really like to do is arrange to have him take us to the museum site. Is that possible?”
“Khaled’s out on a cruise right now. Give me a chance to talk with him, and we’ll get back to you.”
Later that evening, as we were sitting down to dinner, she called. “Khaled will be free this weekend if you still want to charter a boat.”
“Excellent,” Alex said. “Yes, let’s do that.”
“Okay. The museum tour, right?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Unfortunately, our submersible won’t be available. Is that a problem?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Good. Can you be here by eight Friday morning?”
“Sure. We can do that.”
“All right, Mr. Benedict. The agreement has been forwarded to you. Sign and return, and we’ll take it from there.”
I brought up a picture of the Florida Space Museum as it had been before the ocean took it down. It had been a plain three-story U-shaped brick building fronted by a parking lot. A statue of an astronaut stood near a flagpole. Two landing vehicles and a rocket were in the immediate area. And that was about it. Nothing fancy. There was a myth that the building had originally housed a girls’ school, but there was no evidence to support that.
We ate on a balcony looking out over the ocean. It was a clear sky, no moon, but the stars were brilliant. I was watching lights moving on the horizon when Alex broke in to ask if I was okay.
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I glanced down at my plate. “I was thinking about the museum. And Cape Canaveral. The ultimate historic site. And it’s underwater. How could they not have noticed what was going on? They went to the Moon, and they couldn’t see that the glaciers were melting?”
“I’m sure they did,” said Alex. “But you know how people are. They’re going to resist changing a lifestyle unless the danger is looking them directly in the eye. The glaciers must have seemed like somebody else’s problem.”
It was time to change the subject: “You really think Baylee might have said anything to Khaled Eisa that would be of any help?”
“Probably not, Chase. But the two of them would have spent considerable time alone on a boat. They dived to the museum together. What do you think they were talking about?”
“Probably the artifacts.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Twenty-four
Believe the illusion, and it becomes reality.
We ate breakfast at the hotel. “I need a bathing suit,” said Alex. “There’s a beach place back down the road where I should be able to pick one up.”
“We’re going down to look at the museum?”
“Yes. I am.”
“I’ll go, too.”
“You have any diving experience, Chase?”
“Not exactly.”
“Any at all?”
“No.”
“I’ll have the imager along, so you can watch. This is no big deal, and you’ll be safer in the boat.”
“Have you ever done any diving?”
His eyes took on a sheepish appearance. “Khaled will have enough trouble just having one of us to look out for.”
We were back in the Eisa Friendly Charters Office Friday morning when Khaled came in. He was tall, gorgeous, a guy who caught my attention immediately. He had the same brown hair and hazel eyes as his sister. He might have been a twin. “Polly told me you were looking for me,” he said, ushering us into the office and offering some fresh fruit juice. “You want to go out to the Space Museum, is that correct?”
“Yes,” said Alex.
“And there’s something about Garnett Baylee?”
“Yes, Mr. Eisa. Do you remember him?”
“Oh, sure.” Khaled was more casual, more amiable than Polly. But both exuded authority. “We saw a lot of him. He’d take his people out for an evening of good times. They loved partying at sea.” His eyes touched mine, and he delivered an inviting smile.