One can find no greater recognition of the value of a person’s life than a gathering of those left behind to recall with adulation and tears days that were golden because he, or she, was there.
—LEISHA TANNER, NOTEBOOKS, 1231
The Arcadian Cosmological Association was holding its bimonthly meeting at the Flagstone Hotel on Brevington Avenue across from Baymore Park. The keynote speaker was Elijah McCord and his subject was to be Del Housman and his contributions to the world of physics.
Alex was going. Did I want to join him?
“You think we might pick up anything?”
“Probably not. But who knows?”
I’d been to two of these things before. They provided banquets usually with good food. A woman seated next to me on one occasion commented that if physicists know nothing else, they know how to eat. There were always a couple of musicians playing quietly in the background. And the organizers tended to provide passionate speakers.
On this occasion, eight people, including the association’s president, were seated at a central table. When we’d finished the main course and the desserts arrived, the president rose, asked for attention, and provided an update on mostly administrative issues. He introduced a few new members and recognized two who had died. He delivered a report on charitable activities supported by the association and announced two awards recently received by members. One was present and stood to applause; the other appeared on a link and thanked his colleagues for their support. Finally, the president announced the keynote speaker, Elijah McCord, telescopic department chairman at the Andiquar Institute of Technology.
McCord had been seated next to the president. He was a little guy, bald, filled with energy, who literally bounced out of his chair and took his place at the microphone. “Thank you, Alf,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”
He drew a mixture of laughs and clapping, making it clear that he was a popular figure with the ACA. He started with a few gags, describing his own efforts to decipher what he referred to as the quantum code, in an effort to establish his name along with Newton, Einstein, and Yuri Ko-san. “And,” he added seriously, after the laughter subsided, “with Del Housman.”
That drew serious applause.
It grew, and the audience came to their feet in recognition of their lost colleague.
McCord waited for quiet. When it came, he said that his own name would be remembered, but only because he had been a lifelong friend of Housman, and possibly because he’d written an introduction to the great physicist’s groundbreaking book on the big bang. “We still don’t know how it happened,” he said, “and maybe we never will. But Del at least gave us a workable theory.
“I was fortunate,” he added. “I knew Del from my earliest years. We chased each other up and down Boynton Street with pop guns. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit here. Actually, he chased me. Later, we chased girls. In fact, I probably shouldn’t mention this, but a couple of them are here tonight.”
More laughter. Members of the audience looked around and pointed fingers.
“Getting serious for a moment,” McCord said, “when we consider what Del accomplished in his short lifetime, we are left to wonder what else he might have done, had he been granted a few more years. He loved science. I’ve never known anyone more addicted to resolving the riddles of the universe. And I guess I should admit that I never knew anyone with a more active mind. He used to start explaining things to me, where he thought he’d gotten hold of something, and the equations wound up on the board, and I’d get absolutely lost in the twists and turns.
“It’s been almost twelve years now since we lost him, and I still can’t believe he’s gone.” He stood for a moment, not finished, struggling with whatever else he had. Then he simply wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, said thank you, and returned to his seat. The audience remained silent for a few seconds before another round of applause began and took over the building.
• • •
We passed through the lobby and were on our way out the door when a tall, elderly guy with stern features drew alongside us. “Pardon me,” he said. “You’re Alex Benedict, aren’t you?” He had thick white hair and dark inquiring eyes.
“Yes,” said Alex.
“We have the same first name, sir. I’m Professor Alexander Clemens. I was an associate director at Quantum Research a few years ago.”
“It’s good to meet you, Professor. What can I do for you?”
“You might know me as Charlie Clemens. I’ve always used my middle name.”
“Oh yes. I remember. We met once or twice, I believe.”
“That was before we lost the station.”
“How can I help you, Professor?”
“Call me Charlie, if you will. I need a favor.” He drew us back into the lobby and we settled into chairs in a remote corner where we would have some privacy. “Alex, did you see Lashonda Walton on HV the other night?”
“Yes.”
“I was working for her when it happened.”
“It must have been a difficult time.”
“It almost destroyed her.” He leaned forward so he could lower his voice and looked at me. He motioned with his eyes: Should we be alone for this?
“You don’t need to worry about Chase.”
Charlie smiled. “The activity lately about the station has brought it all back. May I ask you a personal question?”
“You may.”
“I know you’ve been working on this thing. Have you made any progress? You have any idea what might have happened?”
“Charlie, I’m sorry, but I’d just as soon not discuss theories. If you’re asking whether we’ve been able to lock anything down, I’d have to say the answer is no.”
“But you’ve concluded Housman’s involved.”
“I haven’t drawn any conclusions yet.”
Clemens closed his eyes and nodded. “But that’s the direction you’re headed. Am I right?”
“That would be premature.”
He smiled. “Alex, we both know that Housman barely mentioned Charlotte Hill in his paper. She was taking the shuttle out every day, and for a long time they relied on his calculations. There’s no evidence that he was the one to extend the search for the pods beyond the original specs. If he’d made the call, it would have shown up in the paperwork. That tells me it was Charlotte who took the shuttle deep. Who found the pods. And gave him his success. She was a smart woman. Probably genius level herself. And more flexible than Del. It doesn’t take much to conclude that he wasn’t anxious to share credit with her.”
“You’re suggesting,” said Alex, “Housman killed them all, and himself, rather than see that part of the story come out?”
“I’m asking for your opinion, Alex.”
“I don’t have an opinion yet. I try not to form one before the evidence comes in.”
“What kind of evidence are you looking for? That’s the problem here. The station’s gone. The only thing that’s left is the cannon.” He stopped and took a breath. “No one will ever be able to prove anything, Alex. You know that as well as I do. The only rational course at this point is the one that points at Housman. But there’ll never be any solid evidence, one way or another. If you continue to pursue this investigation, you’ll get the same results we did. You’ll resurrect the old antagonism about Housman, and about Greene, and in the end accomplish nothing. You said you saw Lashonda. She’s being dragged through it again. It’s been a terribly painful experience for her. She was front and center during the investigation and still feels responsible for our failure to come up with anything. I understand that makes no sense, but if you know her at all, you’re aware that she accepts responsibility for everything that happens around her. I’m sure you’ve noticed she’s not here tonight.”
“Look, Charlie, I can understand it’s been a difficult time for her. But I don’t see how she can feel responsible.”
“Okay. Look, she was warned that Del was driven by his ambition. That he wasn’t entirely stable. That putting him out on the station for a year and a half, in that kind of isolated environment, wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t listen.”
“You’re saying somebody predicted he would go on a killing spree?”
“No, nothing like that. But she was warned that he wouldn’t be a good player out there. She shook it off. Refused to buy it.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought he was the best man for the job. He’d spent his life doing wormhole research, and she wanted the program to succeed. At the time, he looked like our best option.”
“If I may?” I said. “Professor, how do you think Housman could have destroyed the station?”
“All he would have had to do would be to take the shuttle out. He could have done it while the station was in the silent zone, where they had no communication with anyone else. He takes it out a few thousand kilometers. They might have realized why he was doing it, but it wouldn’t have mattered. There would have been nothing they could do to prevent it. He turns it around, runs up the acceleration, and crashes it into them. I’m sure you’re aware”—he glanced toward me again—“that if he’d wanted to, he could have knocked the station out of orbit. We both know what that would probably have meant.”
“Into the black hole.”
“If he got the right angle.”
We ordered a round of drinks, and while we waited for them to arrive, Professor Clemens asked whether Alex had reached a similar conclusion.
“It’s still in the air,” Alex said.
“I understand,” I said, “that they had blasters that could have been used if there’d been a threat from an asteroid.”
“That’s correct,” said Clemens. “They could have destroyed the shuttle.”
“I suspect,” said Alex, “if something like that had happened, they’d have had a hard time believing Housman was putting them all at risk. I’m not sure anyone would have pulled the trigger in time. That would be a terrible decision.”
“Alex, he could have deactivated the system before he took the shuttle out.”
The drinks arrived. Clemens proposed a toast to Lashonda Walton, whom he described as the fifth victim of the Octavia incident. “There are others,” Alex said. “Housman’s family took a hit. As did all the families.”
Clemens drained his glass, set it down, and studied us for a few moments. He studied Alex, really. He took a long look in my direction and pretty much dismissed me. “You’ve been evading the issue, Alex,” he said.
My boss sat back in his chair. “I don’t believe in drawing conclusions until the evidence is in.”
“Have it your way. But I’ll ask you, if you will, please don’t go public with whatever conclusions you come to. There never will be a definitive finale to this. Give Lashonda a break.”
• • •
Charlie paid for the drinks, thanked us for our time, and excused himself. We watched him exit through the front door. Alex glanced at my empty glass. “You want anything more?”
“I’m good,” I said. And after a long pause, “So what do you think?”
“I’ve thought all along that’s exactly what happened. Though I’m not sure who was in the shuttle. We have no way to be certain. Unless we can get Charlotte to talk to us.”
“That would be tricky.”
“Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you know that one of the senior engineers on the cannon project was a guy by the name of Royce Poliks?”
“Really?”
“Yes. He lives on Chippewa. It’s possible he and Charlotte made contact at some point and she told him what was going on.”
• • •
I walked into Alex’s office moments after Gabe found out we were planning a flight to Chippewa. Both of them were seated in armchairs, separated by a circular table. “Why in heaven’s name are you so caught up in this, Alex?” he asked. “Why don’t you just let it go and take care of your responsibilities to your clients?”
Alex glanced in my direction. Here we go again. That was probably an unfair interpretation because relations between them had improved considerably. As Gabe had said early on, they were both adults now. “Why am I doing this?” Alex said. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. What’s the point of it all?”
“Gabe, it’s one of the great mysteries of the age. Why wouldn’t we want to get a resolution?”
“How about this: if you do find out what happened, you’re very likely not going to want to tell anyone.”
“And why would that be?”
“It’s not likely they got attacked by aliens. Or pirates. Or whatever.”
“How can you be sure?”
“We can’t be sure. But we know they needed a hundred and forty-six days to complete an orbit. There were only that few hours when they were completely cut off. It could be a coincidence that the event happened during the cutoff period. But it’s extremely unlikely. So what does that tell us?”
Gabe bowed his head in my direction, inviting me to respond. But I didn’t want to get into the middle of it.
“It wasn’t an accident,” said Alex. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Of course it is,” said Gabe. Both of them were beginning to sound annoyed. “Somebody timed the incident to happen when any possibility of a transmission was blocked by the black hole. The problem is that if it really was one of the people at the station, he might have been able to arrange someone to come in quickly and rescue him, but he’d have had to abandon his life. The four people at Octavia had all spent their lives building their reputations, becoming somebody. What I’m trying to say is that if you ever get to the truth, if you ever find out who’s responsible, you’re going to cause a lot of pain to that individual’s family. I don’t for a minute believe Archie could have been guilty of anything like that, killing his partners. But one of them is going to turn out to be responsible.” He was staring out at the trees, looking at something neither Alex nor I could see. “My advice, Alex: leave it alone.”
Gabe turned toward the door. “I just don’t see why you’d want to get involved in something this poisonous.” Then he was gone.
For a long minute neither of us spoke. Then Alex said, “I don’t guess that turned out very well.”
“Alex,” I said, “do you really think Housman did it?”
“Clemens probably has it right. Charlotte might have been threatening to demand credit for finding the pods. And rather than let that come out, Housman killed them. And himself. And it worked. His name is linked now with the giants. He might have thought it wasn’t too high a price.”
“So how do we establish something like that?”
“Find the Poliks message. At this point it’s all we have.”