Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

“Yes, we do.” I gave him Khaled’s code, his personal one, not the code that would connect him with Eisa Friendly Charters. “You just watch, all right? Don’t say anything.”

“You can count on that.”

He passed the code to the link and directed it to make the call while I did some quick math. It would be midafternoon along the Florida coast. I heard a pickup at the other end. My throat tightened. And Khaled appeared in the center of the room. He was looking at Alex but seeing only the young woman. “Mr. Eisa,” Alex said. “My name’s Marie Baxter.”

Khaled’s features softened. “Hello, Ms. Baxter. What can I do for you?”

“I’m trying to locate an old friend. Heli Tocata. We went to school together. I’ve lost track of her. The address I have doesn’t seem to work anymore. She mentioned you to me a few weeks ago. Told me you’re a friend, right? The boat owner?”

“Yes. That would be me.”

“Good. Anyway, I’m trying to find her.”

My heart picked up a notch.

“Sure,” he said. “I know Heli. But she doesn’t live around here anywhere.”

“I didn’t think she did. Last I recall, she was headed for the British Isles. Do you by any chance have contact information for her?”

“Hold on, Ms. Baxter. I’m getting it for you now.”

Alex glanced over at me with a look of regret. He had to be careful because any change in his expression would be reflected in Marie’s. But he understood that I was annoyed. I wanted to break into the conversation and tell Khaled what he could do.

And, finally, Khaled was back: “Yes. She does live in the British Isles. Or at least she did last time I talked to her. In a place called Sudenton.” He provided the code and delivered a smile. “You want me to repeat it, Marie?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks, Mr. Eisa. I’m in your debt.” And Alex disconnected. A long silence followed. “I’m sorry, Chase,” he said finally.

“The whole thing was a lie. All that talk about how he needed to be with me.”

“Well.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe not that part of it. But the attack was a lie. My guess is that Eisa planted an explosive on the boat, detonated it at the correct moment, then pretended to drive off the attacker.”

“Tocata was the attacker?”

“I don’t think there’s any question. We know she was lying about who and what she was. And she’s a friend of Eisa’s.”

“Oh, Chase,” Khaled had said, “you were never really in danger.”

My chest was heaving. “None of this makes sense, Alex.”

“Tocata doesn’t want us to find out what happened with Baylee. So she tried to scare us off. But what’s she hiding? And I can’t believe she’s alone in this.”

“Why not?”

“Because they destroyed one of Khaled’s boats. As far as I’ve been able to determine, Tocata doesn’t come from money.” He looked out at the sky. “I was sorry to put you through that, Chase. But I had to confirm my suspicions.”

“It’s all right.”

“I suspect you’d like to call him and tell him what you think, but—”

“No. Actually, I have no intention to call him. Ever. ”

“Okay.”

“So what’s next? Do we call Tocata?”

“No. We relax and go down to the beach for a while. This afternoon, I’m going to head over to NHU. See if they can ID Larissa.”

“Why not just call them?”

“I’m interested in seeing the place. Anyhow, asking questions in person usually produces better results. You want to come?”

“Sure.”

The campus occupied about five acres on the outskirts of the city. Six or seven buildings, their entrances marked by geometric art, were joined by sloping rooftops and walkways. At the northernmost extremity, a pair of towers gleamed in bright sunlight. The science history section, officially known as the Casper Archive, was located in a three-story structure between the towers.

We climbed a half dozen steps and went through the front door into a circular, vaulted room whose walls were covered with scientifically related artwork, portraits of famous scientists, photos of off-world landscapes, and sketches of classical formulas. Kormanov’s Origin of Life Theory was on display, as was M Theory, Carmichael’s Particle Theory, Goldman’s Dark Energy Formula, the Schroedinger Equations, and the Pythagorean Theorem. The Brickman Analysis, the breakthrough study of how the human brain works, occupied a prominent position over a sofa.

A few people were admiring the art, and a young man was seated at a desk in the center of the room. A name tent identified him as Rafael Iturbi. He looked up from a monitor as we approached. “Yes,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Iturbi,” said Alex, “there’s an asteroid that, back in ancient times, in the Third Millennium, was called Larissa. Can you pin it down for me? Match it to a catalog number?”

“How do you spell that, Mr.—-?”

“Benedict. Alex Benedict” He printed the asteroid’s name on a sheet of paper.

Iturbi glanced at it. “Okay. Hold on, Mr. Benedict.” He straightened his shoulders and stated the name for his computer. He crossed his arms, glanced up at me, smiled, and refocused on the screen. The smile faded. “We don’t show it, sir.”

“Do you have any files that are not included with the electronic data?”

He had to give that some thought. “Hold on a second, please.” He got up from the desk, crossed the room, and walked out through a door.

“That’s not a good sign,” I said.

He gave me his eternal optimism smile. We waited. More people came and went. Then a bearded older man appeared at the same door and came toward us. “Hello?” he said. “Mr. Benjamin?”

“Benedict,” said Alex.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Benedict. I’m Morton Williams. You say the asteroid’s name is Larissa?”

“Yes, Mr. Williams.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, but we don’t have the information. We can identify some asteroids, but unfortunately, that’s not a name we’re familiar with. How do you know it existed at all?”

“We have good reason to know that there was an asteroid with that name. In fact, I have a picture of it. Do you think you could match it?”

“Can you show it to me?”

Alex produced the cover from Flex . We’d removed the monster and the two astronauts. But Williams was frowning anyway. “This is a drawing ,” he said.

“It’s the best we could come up with.”

He studied the image for a minute or two. “May I ask why you’re interested?”

“Just doing some research.”

It seemed to satisfy him. “We have a substantial number of pictures of major asteroids, other than those whose ancient names we have on record. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

He sat down at Iturbi’s desk, concentrating on the display, which we could not see. He grunted periodically, sucked his lower lip, and eventually shook his head. “We’re not getting a match. The reality is that nobody has cared about asteroids for a long time. Back in the early years, they mined them, but we don’t have much left from those years. A few people live on them now, and they’ve given them names. Not official, of course. But is it possible you’re looking for one of those?”

“No,” said Alex. “This would be from the Third or Fourth Millennium.”

Williams shrugged. “Sorry. Wish we could help.”

We hadn’t expected much, I guess, but it was nevertheless disappointing. “We still have options,” Alex said. We went in through the lobby and took the elevator up to our suite. Once in our apartment, Alex began tinkering with his link again.