Arthur Clarke - Cradle

Carol was really fuming when she walked back into the marina headquarters the second time. She approached the information desk with fire in her eyes. “Miss,” she said nastily to Julianne, “as I told you fifteen minutes ago, I had an appointment here at four o’clock with Nick Williams and Troy Jefferson. It is now, as you can see, after four-thirty.”

Carol pointed at the digital clock with an impatient, sweeping gesture that commanded Julianne to look. “We have both established independently that Mr. Williams is not home,” Carol continued. “Now ate you going to give me Mr. Jefterson’s phone number, or should I make a scene?”

Julianne did not like Carol or her obvious attitude of superiority. She held her ground. “As I told you, Miss Dawson,” she said politely but with a biting overtone, “marina policy prohibits our giving out the phone numbers of the independent boat owners or their crew members. It’s a question of privacy. Now if you had a formal charter through the marina,” Julianne continued, enjoying her moment of glory, “then it would be our job to assist you. But as I said earlier, we have no record—”

“Goddamn it, I know that,” replied Carol furiously. She slammed the envelope of photos that she was carrying down on Julianne’s counter. “I’m not an imbecile. We’ve been through this before. I told you I was supposed to meet them here at four o’clock. Now if you won’t help me, I want to talk to your superior, the assistant manager of whatever.”

“Fine,” said Julianne, her eyes firing darts of contempt at Carol. “If you will just take a seat over there, I will see if I can locate—”

“I will not take a seat,” shouted Carol in exasperation. “I want to see him now. This is an issue of extreme urgency. Now pick up the phone and—”

“Is something wrong here? Perhaps I can help.” Carol spun around. Homer Ashford was standing right behind her. Just to the right, toward the gate in the direction of the jetties, Greta and a big heavy woman (That’s Ellen. Now I remember her, Carol thought) were talking quietly. Ellen smiled at Carol. Greta looked right through her.

“Well, hello, Captain Homer,” Julianne said sweetly, “it’s nice of you to ask. But I think everything’s under control. Miss Dawson here has just indicated that she does not accept my explanation of marina policy. She is going to wait for—”

“Maybe you can help,” Carol interrupted Julianne defiantly. “I had an appointment here at four o’clock with Nick Williams and Troy Jefferson. They have not shown up. Do you by any chance happen to know Troy’s phone number?”

Captain Homer gave Carol a suspicious look and exchanged a knowing glance with Ellen and Greta. He turned back to Carol. “Well, it is certainly a surprise, Miss Dawson, to see you back here again. Why we were just talking about you this morning, saying that we hoped you had a good time on your free day in Key West.” He paused for effect. “Now I wonder why you’ve come back here again, the very next day. And did I hear correctly, you need to see Williams and Jefferson on an issue of extreme urgency? It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with all that equipment you brought in here yesterday, could it? Or the little gray bag that Williams has been guarding since last night?”

Uh oh, thought Carol, as Greta and Ellen moved in around her. I’m surrounded. Captain Homer started to pick up the sealed envelope on Julianne’s counter but Carol stopped him.

“If you don’t mind, Captain Ashford,” she said firmly, taking his hand off the envelope and putting the photos under her arm. She lowered her voice. “I would like to talk to you privately.” Carol nodded her head at the two women. “Can we go out in the parking lot together for a minute?”

Homer’s beady eyes squinted at her. Then his face broke into the same obnoxious, lecherous smile that Carol had seen on the Ambrosia. “Certainly, my dear,” he said. He shouted to Greta and Ellen as he walked out the door with Carol, “Wait here. I’ll only be a minute.”

Necessity is the mother of invention, Carol thought to herself as she led Homer Ashford out the door. So invent, bitch. And now. As in this moment.

They walked up the steps to the parking lot. Carol turned to Captain Homer at the top of the steps with a conspiratorial look on her face. “I can tell that you’ve figured out why I’m here,” she said. “I didn’t want it this way, I thought it would make a better story if nobody knew what I was doing. But you’re obviously too clever for me.” Homer grinned foolishly. “But I would ask you to tell as few people as possible. You can tell your wife and Greta, but please nobody else. The Herald wants it to be a surprise.”

Homer looked puzzled. Carol leaned over and almost whispered in his ear. “The entire Sunday magazine section the fourth week in April. Isn’t that unbelievable? Working title, ‘Dreams of Being Rich,’ stories about people like you, like Mel Fisher, like the four Floridians who have won over a million dollars each in the lottery. On how sudden income changes your life. I’m doing the whole piece. I’m starting with the treasure angle because of its general interest.”

Carol could see that Captain Homer was reeling. She knew she had him off guard. “Yesterday I just wanted to check your boat quickly, see how you lived, see how it would photograph. I freaked out a little when you recognized me so fast. But I had always planned to go out with Williams first.” Carol laughed. “My treasure-finding equipment from MOI faked him out. He still thinks I am a genuine treasure seeker. I almost completed my whole interview with him yesterday. I only came back today to finish a couple of small items.”

An alert went off in Homer Ashford’s system when Carol talked about faking out Nick Williams. Homer wasn’t certain he believed this smooth reporter’s story even now. He mused to himself that her story was plausible, but there was still one big unanswered question. “But what is Williams carrying around in that bag?” he asked.

“That,” said Carol, sensing his distrust, “is nothing.” She raised her eyebrows and laughed again. “Or almost anyway. We pulled up a worthless old trinket yesterday afternoon so I could photograph the salvage process for the story. I told him to have it appraised today. He thinks I’m an eccentric. He must be keeping it hidden in the bag because he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want anybody to see him with it.”

Carol lightly hit Captain Homer in the ribs with her elbow. He shook his head. Part of him realized he was being told a very clever lie. But somehow enough of it made sense that Homer couldn’t pierce the deception. His brow furrowed for a moment. “So I guess you’ll want to talk to us when you’re through with the other two…”

At just that moment, unbeknownst to Carol, Nick and Troy drove into the marina parking lot. They were still slightly drunk and silly. “Lawdy, lawdy,” said Troy, spotting Carol and Captain Homer in conversation, “I believe my eyes have screwed up. They’re sending a picture of a beauty and a beast to my brain. It’s Miss Carol Dawson together with our favorite fat captain. Now what do you suppose they’re talking about?”

“I don’t know,” said Nick, bridling instantly, “but I’m damn sure going to find out. If she’s double-crossing us…” He pulled the car quickly into a parking place and started to jump out. Troy reached across and restrained him.

“Now why don’t you let me handle this one?” Troy said. “Humor may be just the right ticket here.”

Nick thought for a moment. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “I’ll let you go first.”

Troy walked into view just as Carol and Captain Homer were finishing their conversation. “Helloooo, angel,” he said from forty yards away, “what’s happening?”