“I wish we could get Sandy to talk.”
“It would help.”
“Maybe we could kidnap her and threaten to drop her into the river.”
“You don’t really mean that?” He stared at me and I could see he was wondering whether I’d changed dramatically since the years when I served as his pilot.
“No, I’m kidding. But maybe we could work out a way to bribe her.”
“Let me know if you think of something.” He waved the subject away. “I wish we could find the trophy. I hate thinking how it’s lying in a dump somewhere.” He shook his head. “I know you’d say I’m losing my senses, but I still think there’s a chance aliens stole Octavia and the trophy is linked to them.”
I had no inclination to laugh. I even considered the possibility that Harding had been in on it with them. But that would have been seen as a terrible joke and I didn’t want to start another round.
We drifted down into our parking area at the country house. The sun had slipped below the horizon, and Alex was outside raking dead leaves. He enjoyed doing occasional yard work, substituting it for his daily workout. He looked up as we touched the ground. “How’d it go?” he asked.
Gabe was first out of the skimmer. “Not really well, Alex. But before we get into it, I want to apologize. I created a problem I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s okay, Gabe. I understand.” His features softened. “I have a suggestion.”
“I’m listening.”
“How about including something in the contract requiring the buyer to lease the artifact to a museum periodically?”
“Can you do that?”
“I don’t see why not. Let’s sit down tonight and see if we can figure out a formula.”
Gabe reached out and embraced him. “I’m sorry for all the trouble.”
“Me too.” They smiled at each other, grins displaying relief.
“And you’ll stay here, right?”
“If that’s what you want, yes.”
“Good. Now what was your question again?”
“How did the conversation with the AI go?”
“Not very productive. I think that track of the investigation is over. She told us she wasn’t able to speak about it. Which confirms that something was going on. But that’s all we have.”
“Did she admit to having seen it?”
“No. Wouldn’t comment, period. Have picked up anything?”
“Not really.” Alex put the rake aside and we started toward the front door.
But we’d gone only a few steps before Gabe stopped in his tracks. “Maybe we should forget Octavia and concentrate more on just making a living.”
We went inside while an uncomfortable look crept into Alex’s eyes. We turned left into my office and everybody sat down. “I have some news,” he said. “Although it’s a bit uncomfortable bringing it up right now.”
“What is that?”
“The bidding on the Matt Olander skimmer is off the charts.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“There’s more.”
“And what’s that?”
“The University Museum wants it.”
“I doubt they can afford it.”
“They’re trying a different path. They’ve contacted Picariello. If he’ll donate it to them, they’ll give him the Fleminger Award this year.” That was the award Amanda Ornstein had promised Gabe.
Gabe tried to look as if it didn’t bother him. “Is he going to take it?”
“They think so.”
“Well.” He looked happy. “That’s actually good news, isn’t it?”
“There’s always next year. Actually, if it comes down to a choice between bringing home a plaque and seeing the skimmer get set up in the museum, it’s an easy call. They’ll probably give it to you next year, Gabe.” Alex’s usual tactic in this kind of situation was to keep the conversation moving. “Something else you’ll be interested in. We’ve got a guy coming tomorrow with some artifacts from Kimora.” Kimora was one of the first cities established on Randin’hal. It had been on the ground less than two years before it was hammered by an epic storm. That was eight centuries ago.
“What does he have?” asked Gabe, happy to change the subject.
“He said they found a lot of broken electronic equipment, robot systems, the usual.” Gabriel tended not to care much about technological gear. “They also picked up some jewelry. And a cup with the imprint ‘We matter.’ ”
“Donald Demers?” said Gabe. It was his celebrated sign-off line.
“It may not have been cup, but it has to be one of the ones he distributed at that first staff meeting.” Demers of course was the legendary founder of Kimora, the man who’d established the first republic on that long-unhappy world, who’d brought it back from its early devastation and protected it from the tempestuous events that threatened to overwhelm it, caused by the arrivals of so many political fanatics. Now, of course, Kimora continues to prosper, and Demers is its best remembered leader from those difficult years. He was the guy who kept them afloat.
I went into the kitchen and collected some hors d’oeuvres, chocolate chip cookies, cream-cheese-and-sausage dip. I brought it all back and laid it out for them, and added some coffee. But they’d both grown quiet.
“Did something happen while I was gone?” I asked.
Alex nodded. “I was telling Gabe: I watched an interview with Brick Keever this morning.”
“Who’s Brick Keever?”
“He was one of the planners for the Octavia mission. At DPSAR. He’s a professor now at Olgorod University.”
“Did he leave because of the incident?” I asked.
“He denied it for years. But it sounds as if his conscience gave him hell.”
I did a search for the interview next morning. It took a while because I’d gotten the impression that it had just happened. In fact the show was a rerun. The interview had occurred just a week or so after communication with Octavia had been lost. Keever’s departure from DPSAR would take place about three weeks later.
The moderator was Edna Forest, who was now an anchor on the Coastal Network. They sat in a studio with one of the network’s red-and-gold banners on display. Keever was a big guy who looked more like an athlete than a professor. And he had a classical appearance that reminded me of Curt Banner, who was the leading man in so many adventure features, except that Keever’s eyes constantly evaded both the moderator and the viewer.
said Forest,
Corbin.
Corbin
Corbin—