“I’m sorry,” said Matt. “But we had to make the effort.”
“You can have him next time.”
“I had him last time.” He tapped his desktop. “I thought maybe he’d be receptive to feminine charm.”
“You owe me,” said Kim.
He nodded. “I’ll treat for lunch tomorrow. By the way, Solly was trying to get hold of you.”
Solly was in a seminar at the moment, and she had to wait till the end of the afternoon to speak with him. His image appeared in her office as she was getting ready to go home. “No luck,” he said.
“With the Archives? I thought you knew somebody.”
“They’ve got a big integrity push now. Apparently caught one of their people diverting the Archives’s funds into her own account.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
She had dinner that evening on Calico Island with a young man she’d met through the Sea Knights. He was of the class of persons who neither pursued a career nor dedicated themselves to a life of unbridled leisure. A substantial number of people were taking that middle route now, staying away from anything that put routine demands on their time, and instead indulging in a range of academic or other interests. They spent their lives engaged in drama, or chess, or wallball. They toured the world’s beaches, if their resources permitted. Life was short, her date argued, although it was now longer than it had ever been. He had dedicated himself to locating the Marmora, a maglev brig lost somewhere in the middle northern latitudes on the far side of the world.
“Find the Marmora,” he said, “and my life will have counted for something.”
He sounded like Kile Tripley.
Like Emily, now that she thought of it.
Maybe like herself.
10
Men are so slow-witted and give themselves so easily to the desires of the moment that he who will deceive will always find a willing victim.
Kile’s widowed mother, Sara Tripley Baines, lived in Eagle Point now, had lived there at the time of the event. A search turned up several hits and a couple of recent pictures: She liked to dress formally, and was quite striking even by the heightened standards of the age. Her bearing demonstrated that she was fully aware of her charms.
Sara was the president of an architectural club which annually awarded a prize for best executed design for a public building. She was on the board of directors of Tupla University, and she remained an active participant in competitive gymnastics. Kim watched a VR of her appearance at a benefit dinner where she tried to persuade the attendees to back a building project. Her delivery was a trifle stodgy, Kim thought, but dreadfully sincere.
Kim consulted the directory for her number, picked up one of the Institute’s virtual projectors, and went to a public booth to ensure she could not be connected to the call. She selected a model from the projector’s inventory, a tall, redheaded, aristocratic woman, and then punched in Sara’s number, audio only, which was, of course, correct practice when calling a stranger.
The house AI answered.
“Hello,” said Kim. “This is Kay Braddock calling. I’d like to speak with Sara Baines, please?”
“May I ask what your business is with Mrs. Baines?”
Kim hesitated. “I’m working on a book about the Severin Valley,” she said. “I understand she was an eyewitness to the Mount Hope event, and I wondered whether she would be willing to spare a few minutes to provide some details.”
The AI asked her to wait, and Kim squirmed. First bribery, now this. What was going to be next? Burglary?
She recognized Sara’s voice. “Kay Braddock?” she said, with perfect diction. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you.”
“I’m probably not well known,” said Kim. “Mrs. Baines, I appreciate your talking to me.”
Kim’s visual signal lit up. An image of the aristocratic redhead had just appeared in front of Sara. “Why did you choose me?” Sara asked.
“I watched you speak to the Tupla alumni last year about the expansion project. You seemed to be very observant, and very concerned about the welfare and history of the community.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That’s kind of you.” Sara blinked into view. She was seated in a gray Polynex chair, with a black cat coiled in her lap. She was tall, clear-eyed, no-nonsense, accustomed to being in charge, but pleased at the possibility of appearing in a book. “What kind of book are you writing? It’s hard to see what anyone could add to the material that’s already been assembled about Mount Hope.”
“A woman’s perspective. I’m interested in the long-term effects of the disaster on the families of the victims.”
“Oh,” she said. And there was a catch in her voice, which did nothing to assuage Kim’s rising sense of guilt. “I can tell you about that.” She cautioned Kim that she had not actually been an eyewitness, that she’d flown down immediately after the event, arriving while the fires were still burning. She described those first hours in general terms, the agony she’d witnessed, the bodies, the hysteria, the sheer empty-eyed shock. She avoided describing her own emotions while facing the increasing probability that her son had been lost.
“Yes,” she said, “I knew Kile was back. He called me from the house. In the past, he’d usually spent a few days in Terminal City after completing a flight. He’d get together with people from the Foundation to review the mission. And probably to celebrate a little bit. That’s how he was. He liked people, and he had a lot of friends. Pity he didn’t do it this time; he wouldn’t have been there when the mountain blew up.”
“You went first to your son’s home?” Kim asked.
“Of course.”
“Had it been damaged?”
“There was some water damage. They were wetting everything down. But other than that, no. The villa came through intact.”
“But it was empty?”
“Oh yes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He was gone. Poor Kile. They never did find him.” Her eyes clouded. “His flyer was gone too. He must have been in the air, somewhere near the explosion. He used to do that, fly up into the mountains to relax.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Baines.” Kim watched her check her blouse, looking for something to adjust. The blouse was green, embroidered with a white design suggesting musical notes. Quite pretty, really.
“It’s all right. It’s been a long time.” She dabbed her eyes.
For the first time in her adult life, Kim saw that she was being cruel. But she pressed ahead. “I wonder if you’d care to tell me what you were thinking, and feeling, when you first went into the villa.”
“I’m sure you can guess, Ms. Braddock.”
“You were frightened.”
“Of course.”
“Did you find anything that suggested where he might have gone?”
“No.”
“Anything unusual at all?”
Sara shot her a suspicious glance. “No,” she said. “Considering what was happening outside, the villa was quite normal. Save that my son was missing.”
“This was how long after the explosion?”
“Two hours, I guess. No more than that. Emergency teams were still arriving.” She paused, shook her head. “These things happen,” she said. “He was a good son. He had a lot to offer.”
“Mrs. Baines, did you notice whether he’d left any notes or records about the mission? Anything that would help—” She stumbled, unsure how to proceed.
Sara’s face hardened. “—I’ve heard all the rumors, Ms. Braddock. I can assure you if anything out of the ordinary had happened out there, I’d have been first to know. There was nothing connected with the flight in the house. At least nothing that I saw. No records. No visuals. Nothing”