“On the way back, he talked about trying to find the stuff that had been in the museum. That he’d looked everywhere. He started drinking, and I got worried. He’s a big guy, and once he almost fell overboard.”
“Khaled, did he ever give any indication that he’d found any of those artifacts? Anything at all?”
“No. I saw him a couple of times after that. Just going out to have a few drinks. Alone both times. I asked him if he was still looking for the Apollo stuff. He just got a kind of sad grin on his face and shrugged it off.”
Alex nodded. “You guys have a sub, right?”
“Yes, we do. Her name’s Lola.”
“Did you offer to take him down in Lola?”
“We had a different sub then. But sure. I remember we’d been having problems with sharks in the area. I wanted to avoid taking any chances, so we stopped taking people down for a while. If people wanted to see the museum, we only took them in the sub. I offered him a substantial discount. But he said no.”
“What’s a shark?” I asked.
Khaled’s eyes glowed. “You really do come from another place, don’t you? You have an accent.”
“We’re from Rimway,” I said. “What’s a shark?”
Alex responded: “It’s a big fish that would enjoy having a Kolpath sandwich for lunch.”
“That’s sort of what I thought.”
“Alex,” said Khaled, “why did you pass on the sub?”
“No special reason. I just want to do this the same way Baylee did.”
“All right. Whatever you like.” He looked my way. “Will you both be going down?”
“No,” I said. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”
* * *
The sea was quiet, and the sun was sinking toward the horizon when we arrived at the museum. There was no wind to speak of. Khaled lowered an anchor into the water while Alex asked how he could be sure where we were. “There’s just ocean in every direction.”
“We planted a homing device here years ago, Alex. We knew there’d be a fair amount of interest. There are a few other pieces of tracking equipment here although I think ours is the only one that’s still working.”
He suggested that Alex not try making a dive until morning. “We’ll want as much light as we can get,” he said.
Another boat passed close to us, filled with college kids singing and having a good time. “It’s spring break, I guess,” I said.
Khaled nodded. “In this part of the world, it’s always spring.” He was obviously enjoying himself. “Usually, our customers just want to cruise along the shoreline and go sightseeing. In fact, Polly’s out now with a bunch of them. She’d have preferred to bring you guys out here instead, but I was the one who’d taken Baylee, so I got the assignment.”
“Sightseeing where?”
“They’re going north, up to Monica Bay.” Khaled was keeping his eyes on me while he talked. Alex got the message and announced that he was going out on deck to enjoy the breeze. So Khaled eased us into a conversation about the sea, about the romances of the boating business, about life along the coast. He was smooth, and I guess I made no effort to discourage him.
Eventually, I tried to turn the conversation back onto Baylee. Had he ever seemed as if he was making any kind of progress? Did he ever look happy?
“Well,” he said, “that’s a tough call. He laughed a lot. He knew how to enjoy himself. But he never let go of the museum. You know what I mean?” Khaled understood he didn’t have much time, so he plunged ahead. “I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, Chase, but you’re the loveliest woman I’ve seen around here in years, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I just let you walk away. But I guess you’re not planning on staying in this area, are you?”
“No, Khaled. We won’t be here long.”
“May I ask what sort of relationship you have with Alex? And I hope I’m not out of line here.”
“He’s my boss.”
“Oh, good.” Big smile. I found myself wishing he lived in Andiquar. “So, would you allow me to take you out for dinner, say, Monday evening?”
“We won’t be here Monday evening, Khaled,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Well, okay.” Another smile. “How about Sunday then?”
“Khaled, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll be gone after Monday morning. It can’t really go anywhere.”
“Back to Rimway?”
“Well, probably not right away. But—”
“Let’s not just let this go away. If we can get some time together Sunday evening, let’s do it. Then we can say good-bye. Or whatever.”
My heartbeat was picking up. “Don’t you have any boats to take out?”
“I’ll get a replacement. It’s the advantage of being the owner.”
* * *
In the morning, he and Alex appeared on deck in swimsuits. Khaled strapped a pistol-shaped weapon onto his belt. I assumed it was a blaster. “We haven’t been seeing any sharks lately,” he said. “But caution never hurts.”
“What does it do?” I asked. “Blow them up?”
He laughed. “It screws up their nervous system. It won’t do any permanent damage, but they won’t hang around.”
“Good,” I said. No other boats were in sight.
“It’s not too deep here,” said Khaled. “All set, Alex?”
“Let’s do it.”
They pulled oxygen masks down over their faces and tested the radios. “Good luck,” I told Alex. He gave me a thumbs-up and turned on the imager, which was fastened to his vest.
I opened my notebook, and the handrail and ocean blinked on. There was a gate in the rail. Khaled opened it and stepped aside. Alex went through, climbed down a ladder, and slipped into the water. Khaled followed, and both quickly disappeared beneath the surface.
The boat rocked gently in the waves.
I sat down on a deck chair with the notebook and watched the images. The water grew darker as they descended, and the bottom came gradually into view.
“If you look over to your right, Alex,” said Khaled, “you can make out some of the mounds. Underneath all that are steel and concrete.”
Alex turned on a lamp. “Has anyone ever actually looked, Khaled? I mean, have they dug up the area?”
“Every fifty years or so, an archeological team shows up and goes down to poke around. As nearly as I can make out, they’ve been doing it off and on for thousands of years. If there was ever anything here, it’s long gone now.”
Alex looked to be moving smoothly. I saw the lumps in the bottom that Khaled had talked about. And a broken wall. A couple of struts stuck out of the ocean bottom.
Khaled pushed on one, demonstrating that it wasn’t going to move. A few fish passed through, apparently drawn by the lights.
Gradually I became aware of a white skimmer moving toward us. It was coming slowly, and descending.
“Over here,” said Khaled. He was digging at the mud, and after he got about a foot down, he found something solid. “It’s a floor. I think we’re inside the museum.”
Alex came over to look. Then he began swimming in a circle, gradually moving farther out, examining the bottom, sometimes touching down, digging in.
I was tempted to comment that I didn’t think they were going to find anything. But I decided to stay out of it.
Alex tugged something out of the mud. It looked like a piece of metal.
The skimmer began turning away, heading west.
On the display, the piece of metal caught the light. It was a beer can.
“I guess you’re right, Khaled,” Alex said. “This place does attract visitors.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
“Ahhh,” said Alex. “What’s this?”
A pair of angled poles jutted out of the mud. One was bent. Both were about a meter long and heavily corroded. In fact, it was unlikely anything remained of the original material. “What is it, Alex?” I asked.
“Not sure yet. Khaled, is there a
way to figure out which part of the museum this would have been?”
“I’m sorry, Alex. But no. We could come back with a compass and maybe get some direction. At least it would tell us—” He stopped. “Well, no, that wouldn’t really help.”
* * *
Eventually, they surfaced and came back onto the deck. Alex went to his notebook without drying off.
“What’s going on?” I said.
He held up a palm. Give him a minute. He was looking at a picture of one of the original lunar descent modules. I tried to imagine what it had been like going down to the lunar surface in one of those things. How did they manage any kind of serious spaceflight with no capability for gravity manipulation? It blew my mind.
Khaled pulled a towel around his shoulders and turned to me. “I probably should have warned him. Most of the people who come here get disappointed.”
“He’s okay,” I said.
Alex looked up from the notebook. “Those rods,” he said. “They’re from one of the Apollo descent modules.” He split the screen and brought up a picture of the poles sticking out of the mud. “The metal is completely corroded. But look at the angles. They’re the same.”
“Not much left of it,” I said.
“No. We probably wouldn’t have that if it hadn’t been inside the museum. It was protected from the tides for a long time. Until the walls went away.” He sat quietly for a few moments, just watching the sea. “Baylee would have known what that was,” he said finally. “It must have torn his heart out.” He looked up over my shoulder. “What’s that?” he asked.
The white skimmer was back, ahead of us and off to starboard. I shielded my eyes from the sun. “It’s been hanging around for a while,” I said.
Khaled watched it while he continued drying himself. “We get a lot of those out here. They just fly over the museum so they can say they’ve been here.”
It was moving in a wide circle, angling around until it was directly ahead of us. Khaled threw the towel over one shoulder and watched as it turned in our direction. “You guys aren’t wanted by the police or anything, are you?”
“Not that I know of,” said Alex.
The skimmer was descending. Coming toward us now. It leveled off at an altitude of about a hundred meters. There was no longer any doubt that it was interested in us. “I’m not comfortable with this,” Khaled said. He walked onto the bridge and started the engines. “Pat, pull up the anchor.” Pat was the AI.
The chain began to move.
The skimmer kept coming. Its engine grew louder.
A hand appeared through an open front window. It was holding something. A weapon. It looked like a blaster.
“Heads up,” said Alex. He and I retreated toward the stern.
Khaled leaped back down onto the deck. He shoved Alex and me behind the after bulkhead and fell on top of us. I couldn’t see anything from there, but the engine kept getting louder. Then an explosion rocked the boat. The skimmer soared past, rose, and began another turn.
“Chase!” Alex’s voice. “You okay?” The overhead was blown off the cabin, and we were beginning to take on water. The deck was sliced wide open.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m okay. What the hell’s going on? Khaled, you all right?”
“I’m good.” He sounded enraged. “Heads up! That son of a bitch is going to do it again.”
We were on fire, and sinking.
Khaled pulled the antishark weapon out of his belt, scrambled onto the bow, and aimed it at the skimmer. By then, I was calling into my link: “Code five, yacht Patriot. We are under attack. Request immediate assistance. White skimmer unprovoked. Using a blaster.”
“Khaled!” Alex grabbed one of his legs. “Get down from there, you idiot. You’re giving him a target.”
“No, I’m not,” said Khaled. “I’m showing him a blaster.”
“That’s not a blaster,” I said. “He’s got the damned blaster. That’s only a stinger. Or whatever. Will it do any damage to him?”
“It looks like a blaster. And yes, if I can hit him, it will.”
“You’ll get yourself killed,” said Alex.
The skimmer came out of its turn and was angling toward us again.
The Patrol got back to me: “Patriot, we are on our way. Keep transmitting.” I slipped into the water in an effort to keep the hull between me and the skimmer.
Khaled was standing in as cocky a manner as he could manage, swinging the shark disrupter as if it could actually do some damage. Meantime, my link was connecting with our attacker. “I have its registration number,” it said.
“Open a channel to them,” I told it. Then: “I don’t know who you are, you nitwit, but your number has been forwarded to the Coast Patrol. Back off. We have a weapon!”
They raced overhead again, but this time they did not fire. Instead, they began to turn away and accelerate.
Khaled tossed me a life vest.
* * *
The Patrol got there in eight minutes. By then the Patriot had slipped beneath the surface, and the nutcase who’d jumped us was long gone. They hovered overhead in two vehicles and hauled us out of the water. Then one of the officers informed us that the skimmer’s registration number was invalid. “You didn’t actually get a close look at it, did you?”
“I didn’t think I needed to,” I said. “I thought I had its number.”
He looked sympathetic. “It’s bogus. They’re pretty easy to manipulate. We’ve been trying to do something about that for years, but the techs haven’t been able to figure out a way without violating all kinds of security laws.” He paused. “You have any idea who that might have been? You guys have any enemies who want you dead?”
He was talking to Khaled and me. Alex was in the other skimmer.
“I don’t know anybody,” said Khaled, “who’d want to do this.” He looked at me.
“Alex and I don’t even know anyone on the planet,” I said. It had occurred to me that it might have had something to do with Baylee, but that made no sense. Why would anybody care whether we found what we’d come looking for? “I have to think it was just a random nut on the loose.”
When we got back to shore, Alex admitted he’d given much the same answer. “But,” he added, “I don’t hold with coincidence.”
We thanked our rescuers. Everyone got a good laugh when they heard the attacker had been scared off by a shark stinger. Then we completed some documents. Polly showed up at the Guard station just as we were finishing. She apologized, as if it were her fault. “It’s a first for us. If you tell your friends about this incident, Chase,” she said, “I hope you don’t mention Eisa Friendly Charters.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Love isn’t everything. But it renders the rest of the human experience virtually irrelevant.
—Edmund Barringer, Lifeboat, 8788 C.E.
When we got back to the hotel, Alex steered me over to a sofa in the lobby. “Chase,” he said, “I don’t think we were the targets this afternoon.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Khaled wasted no time getting the engine started and trying to get us out of there. In fact, he started the engine before the attack began.”
“You think this isn’t the first time it’s happened?”
“I’m not sure what to make of it. But we’d be smart to assume the worst. That it was aimed at us. But I think there’s something Khaled isn’t telling us. We should stop somewhere and pick up a couple of scramblers.”
“I was just about to suggest that.”
“Are you still going out with Khaled tonight?”
“Yes.”
“I wonder if that’s a good idea?”
“We’ll be okay,” I said.
“All right. Enjoy yourself. But keep your eyes open.”
* * *
Khaled took me to a cabaret for dinner. We ate while a group called the Late Nighters played and sang about the wonders of love. Then we got a comedian who was actually entertaining. And the place fi
lled with music again, and we went out onto the dance floor.
It made for an exhilarating evening, rendered poignant by the knowledge that we would probably never see each other again. Khaled looked at me with an air of wistfulness. And to be honest, I couldn’t decide whether my emotions that night were brought on by the circumstances or whether I really liked the guy. And the fact that I was carrying a scrambler gave the entire affair an added dimension. “You know who you look like?” I asked. “Zachary Conner.”
He really did. The rumpled brown hair, the square jaw, the electric eyes. He had everything but the mustache. I don’t know if he could have handled the romantic lead in Last Man Standing or Starburst. But he was close enough.
“You know,” he said, with a grin, “I hear that a lot.”
He had no easy means to travel to Rimway. And all my instincts barred me from even thinking about initiating something that had no chance of going anywhere. We talked about the attack off and on through the evening. While we were out on the floor, I asked whether he’d ever even heard of anything like this before?
“No,” he said. “That’s why I thought it might be directed at you and Alex.”
“There’s no reason,” I said, “why anybody should want to come after us. But I suppose it’s possible.”
“Well, I plan to be careful for a while. I’d suggest you guys be heads-up, too. Maybe you should back off this Baylee thing for a while. That might be the problem. In any case, I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”
He was warm and gentle, and, unlike most guys, he wanted to talk about things I cared about, rather than about himself. He would have been worth hanging on to.
The evening ended on a note of lost opportunity. “If you get back here, Chase, or you have some free time before you go home to Rimway, let me know, okay? I’d love to do this again.”
“I don’t think there’s much chance, Khaled. But if it happens, I’ll let you know.”
Alex Benedict 07 - Coming Home Page 17
