Jack McDevitt - POLARIS

“We always put one together for the board.” He had a raspy, high-pitched voice.

The kind you associate with somebody who yells at kids a lot. “It helps with planning next year’s event. Did you just want to see the one from this year? We have them going back to the beginning of the century.”

“At the moment, I only need the current one.”

“Okay. I can take care of it.” Delivered with a sip of his brew.

A few minutes later I was fast-forwarding my way through the convention. I skipped the stuff I hadn’t seen during my original visit. I dropped in on the alien wind panel again. Saw myself. Moved on to the Toxicon kidnap plot. Watched the man who’d been on board the Polaris after it became the Sheila Clermo. And there he was!

Kiernan was sitting six rows to my rear on the left. Almost directly behind me. But I couldn’t recall having noticed him back there. I associated him strongly with the convention, but there was a different version of him at the back of my mind.

Alex asked me to get Tab Everson on the circuit. Everson was the man who’d reduced the artifacts to ashes and put them in solar orbit. “What do we want to talk to him about?”

“The Polaris, ” he said. “I think he’ll be receptive.”

He was right. Everson’s AI at Morton College put me through to a private secretary, a gray-haired, efficient-looking woman. I identified myself and explained why I’d called. She smiled politely and asked me to wait. Moments later she was back. “Mr. Everson is busy at the moment. May I have him return your call?”

“Of course.”

Alex told me that when the call came, he wanted me to sit in, using an offstage chair. Everson would not know I was there. An hour later he was on the circuit.

Tab Everson was president of a food distribution firm, although his primary interest seemed to be Morton College. The data banks put his age at thirty-three, but he looked ten years younger. He was casually dressed, white shirt, blue slacks, and a checkered neckerchief. A windbreaker embossed with the name of the college hung on the back of a door. His office was filled with mementoes from the school-awards, certificates, pictures of students playing chess and participating in seminars and standing behind lecterns. He was a bit more than average height, with black hair and piercing gray eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Benedict,” he said. He was seated in an armchair framed by a picture window. Outside, I could see a hilltop and some trees. “It’s a pleasure.”

Alex had taken the call in the living room, as was his custom when representing the corporation. He returned the greeting. “You may know I’m an antiquities dealer,” he said.

Everson knew. “Oh, I think you’re a great deal more than an antiquities dealer, Mr. Benedict. Your reputation as an historian precedes you.” Well, that was a bit much. But Alex accepted the compliment gracefully, and Everson crossed one leg over the other. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

There was a maturity about this guy that belied his age. He leaned forward slightly, conveying the impression he would be intrigued with whatever Alex was about to say. Yet he managed to signal that time was a factor and that a long interview was not in the cards. Say what you have to say, Benedict, and stop taking my time. I had the feeling he knew why we were there. Which put him a step ahead of me.

“I was struck by your disposition of the Polaris artifacts,” said Alex.

“Thank you, but it was the least I could do.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment. It must have occurred to you that, even in their condition after the explosion, they might have retained some value to historians.

Or investigators.”

Everson let us see he had no sympathy with that view. “I really can’t imagine what an historian might have hoped to find among them. And the debris would not have engaged any collector’s interest. Not in the condition it was in. Did you by any chance see what was left of the artifacts? After the bombing?”

“No. I did not.”

“If you had, Mr. Benedict, you’d not need to raise the issue. By the way, I understand you were there that night.”

“Yes. It wasn’t a pleasant evening.”

“I would think not. I hope you weren’t injured.”

“No. I came away fine, thank you.”

“Excellent. These madmen.” He shook his head. “But they did eventually get the thugs, didn’t they? Or did they?” He allowed himself to look momentarily puzzled. “I don’t know what’s happening to the world.” He got up from the chair. Well, terribly sorry. Have to get back to work. “Was there anything else?”

Alex refused to be hurried. “You obviously have had some experience with antiquities.”

“Well, in my own small way, perhaps.”

“Anyone who deals with them learns quickly the value of anything that links us to the past.”

“Yes.”

“Would you explain, then, why you-?”

“-Why I reduced everything to ashes before releasing it into orbit? In fact, you’re asking the same question again, Mr. Benedict, and I will answer it the same way. It was out of respect. I’m sorry, but that will have to suffice. It is the only reason I have.”

“I see.”

“Now, perhaps I may ask you a question?”

“By all means.”

“What is it you really want to know?”

Alex’s face hardened. “I think the bombs at Survey were aimed at the exhibition, not the Mazha.”

“Oh, surely that can’t be-”

“A few nights ago, there was an attempt to kill me and an associate.”

He nodded. “I’m truly sorry to hear it. Why would anyone do such a thing?”

Whatever else he might have been, he wasn’t a good actor. He was hiding something. At the very least, prior knowledge of the attempt on our lives.

“I think there’s something in the exhibition that somebody finds threatening.”

“Sufficiently threatening to kill for?”

“Apparently.”

He looked shocked. Then insulted. “And you think - ”

“-I think you know what it is.”

He laughed. “Mr. Benedict, I’m sorry you feel that way. But I have no idea what you mean. None whatever.” He cleared his throat. Departure imminent. “I wish I could help. But unfortunately I can’t. Meantime, if you really believe I’d do something like that, I suggest you go to the authorities. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to work.”

“Why did we do that?” I asked.

“This guy is part of it, Chase. I wanted him to know we understand that. It lets him know that if anything happens to us, somebody will be around to ask more questions.”

“Oh, well, that’s good. It could go the other way, too.”

“How’s that?”

“They dumped us in the sea to stop us from following Kiernan home. But if you’re right, you may have persuaded Everson that we’re getting too close to whatever it is they’re hiding and that they have no choice but to get rid of us. And do it right this time.”

That possibility seemed not to have occurred to him. “He wouldn’t be that foolish, Chase.”

“I hope not. But the next time we decide to do something that puts both our lives on the line, let’s talk about it first.”

“Okay.” He looked sheepish. “You’re right.”

“You really have no doubt about it, do you? That Everson’s involved?”

“None.” He headed for the coffee. “I’ve been in touch with Soon, with Harold, with Vlad. Nobody’s been to visit them. No one’s interested in the stuff they have.”

“The plaque, the Bible, and the bracelet.”

He gave me his victory smile. “Am I right?”

“None of them have places where you could hide anything.”

“Exactly.”