Alex Benedict 07 - Coming Home

by Jack McDevitt

  “I may have misplayed my hand. You know who Robert Dyke is, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re probably not aware of this, but JoAnn left some suggestions for him. On what she thought might work. You know, the drive-manipulation thing. It looks as if she did a lot of thinking about it while she was stuck on the Grainger. I passed what she had along to him. He’s on the Capella.”

  “I know.”

  “Okay. What you don’t know is that he’s talking about putting her ideas into action. He’s going to try doing what she did on the Grainger.”

  “Well, that’s why you gave it to him, isn’t it?”

  “No, it isn’t. Well, hell, I don’t know. I wanted him to be able to see what she thought, and maybe he could find a way to make it applicable. But he’s telling me that her comments are helpful, ‘illuminating,’ he said, but that there’s no way to be certain of the outcome. I’ve asked him to stay away from it if he can’t be sure. But he isn’t cooperating.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Talk to him. Tell him what the Grainger looked like when you were walking through it looking for JoAnn and Nick. Make him understand the risk he’d be taking.”

  “John, why not tell Captain Schultz?”

  “Dyke’s already talked to her. He’s convinced her he can make it work.”

  “I wouldn’t have any influence with this guy, John. Maybe you should ask Shara to do this? At least he probably knows who she is.”

  He hesitated. “I’ve already asked her. She won’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  John looked like a man in pain. “She’s not sure what’s the right thing to do. Please, Chase, the lives of these people may hang on this. You were close to JoAnn. Maybe you can let him know she didn’t trust it.”

  “I can’t believe anything I might tell him would make any difference, John.”

  “You could be right, Chase. But you’re all we’ve got. Think about what you saw on board the Grainger. Imagine what it would have looked like if there’d been more than two thousand people on board.”

  That provided a chill. “All right,” I said. “Can you connect me with him?”

  “Give me a minute. We’re going to tell him who you are and that you wanted to speak to him. Okay?”

  “All right.”

  “By the way, I’ll stay on audio.” That almost sounded like a warning.

  The screen went blank.

  I sat there staring at it. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  * * *

  The next voice I heard wasn’t John’s: “Okay, Robert—We’ve got her.”

  And a face blinked on. “Chase?”

  “Yes. Hello, Professor Dyke.”

  In photos, Dyke came across as solemn, humorless, cocksure of himself. But the image on the display belied all that. He was worried and looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders though he nevertheless managed a smile. “Hello, Chase. I understand you wanted to talk to me?”

  “Uh, yes, Professor.”

  “I’m Rob,” he said. “Please keep it short. I’m busy at the moment.”

  “Rob, I understand you’re thinking about trying to do the same thing that JoAnn Suttner did on the Grainger?”

  “No. That’s not correct. I’m changing the formulation.”

  “But you can’t be certain it will work, is that right?”

  He stared at me. The smile was gone. “Chase, I think I understand what this is about. And I believe I can save us both some time. No, to answer your question, in a matter like this, there is no absolute certainty. But we have the next best thing. JoAnn has passed me some data, and some after-the-fact speculation that is very helpful. I don’t think there is any realistic reason to be worried.”

  “Robert, walking through that dead place picturing what happened to JoAnn and Nick was possibly the worst experience of my life.” That was, of course, a lie since at the time I had no idea what had happened to them. “I cannot imagine what it would be like to condemn almost three thousand people to that kind of death. Please don’t do this.”

  “I need to cut this short. Let me ask you a question: If you were here with us, what would you want me to do? Provide you an almost certain ticket home? Or back off and cause you to lose another five years of life with your friends and family?”

  I guess I stared back while I fumbled for a reply. “I—”

  He waited. Then: “I guess that’s clear enough, Chase. Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk again sometime.”

  He blinked off. And John was back, glaring out of the screen at me. “Well done, Chase,” he said. “If he kills everybody, it’s on your head.”

  * * *

  It left me in a rage. I sat there staring at the mike, rehearsing what I would say to John Kraus when I called him back. How in hell had this become my call? I was still fuming over it, trying to figure out what I wanted to say, when Belle told me John was on the circuit again.

  “Tell him I’m busy,” I said.

  “I think you should take it, Chase.”

  Why not? I had a few things to say to him anyhow. Might as well get them said.

  John’s face appeared on-screen. “I’m sorry, Chase. That wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have put you into that position.” The lips softened into a smile. “I apologize.”

  “It’s okay.” It’s all I could say.

  “I owe you.”

  “You know,” I said, “no matter what I told him, Dyke wasn’t going to change his mind.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I hope so, John. Because at the moment, it’s the only thing keeping me sane.”

  * * *

  Another general broadcast came in: First a voice we didn’t recognize: “We are on approach, John. Will rendezvous in about twenty minutes.”

  “Glad to hear it, Bark. Capella has opened its cargo hold.”

  “The reference,” said Belle, “is to Bark Peters, captain of the Sadie Randall.”

  “Bark,” said John, “I have estimated time to transfer lifeboats as approximately three hours. Has there been any change?”

  “Negative that.”

  “And you have forty-four boats?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “All right. The three hours will take you right up to, and maybe a little past, the projected Capella departure. You have no wiggle room.”

  “I’m aware of that, John.”

  “One other thing: Be careful. Break off at the first sign of instability. We don’t want you getting pulled down, too.”

  “I’ll take care of it, John. You can leave the details to me.”

  He didn’t sound very flexible.

  “Okay. Have it your way, Bark. FYI, we also have a yacht closing. The Mary Lou Eisner will arrive within minutes after you guys do.”

  “I hope,” I said, “it’s not another Mute.”

  “The Mary Lou Eisner?” said Belle. “That seems unlikely.”

  “I was kidding. What’s its capacity?”

  “Nine people.”

  “We could do better.”

  “It would be close.”

  “There are—what?—two more coming in after that?”

  “Yes. The Shang-Chi and the Morrison. They’re about an hour apart. Both small, so they won’t be able to take many.”

  “At least they’ll be in and out quickly.”

  We were getting pictures from the Randall as they approached. “I have a question for you, Belle,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  “Who was Belle-Marie?”

  “Her last name was McKeown. She was one of Gabe’s girlfriends. A special one.”

  “What happened to her? They never married?”

  “No. She walked away from him.”

  “She walked away from Gabe?”

  “Yes. Damaged him emotionally, I believe.”

  “And he named his new yacht for her?”

  “I thought it was strange, too
. Why do you pay tribute to somebody who discards you? He could have called it the Giddy-Up or something. But he told me she never knew about it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “Gabe was, is, kind of tough on the surface, but down under all the manly stuff, he’s pretty sentimental.”

  “Did you ever meet her? Belle-Marie McKeown?”

  “Yes. I have it from others who saw her that she looked good. I do not normally develop emotional reactions to people. Certainly not based on their appearance. But I will confess that I never cared for her.”

  “Because of the way she treated Gabe?”

  “No. I didn’t like her before that happened. I’m not sure I can give you a reason. She was a bit distant. I think Gabe always realized he wasn’t going to be able to hold on to her, but he stayed with it as long as he could.”

  * * *

  Bark Peters came back: “John, we are pulling alongside the Capella now. Lifeboats will be on the move in three minutes.”

  FORTY-ONE

  It is ironic that we do not remember who invented the camera. No human creation so deeply impacts our lives as this, which allows us to capture permanently the images of those who have gone before. Those we love may pass out of this world, but their faces, and the moments we shared with them, are forever ours.

  —Rev. Agathe Lawless, Sunset Musings, 1422

  Bark Peters provided close-up pictures of the lifeboat packages as they were sent one by one out of the Randall’s storage compartments. Twin jets were attached to the packages. Two crew members in green-and-white jet-assisted pressure suits traveled with each unit. They guided it across a gap of about forty meters into the Capella’s cargo hold, where some of the cruise ship’s people corralled it and took it into whatever open space they had available.

  An additional four members of the Randall’s crew, with jetpacks, served as wingmen, hovering between the two ships, lending a hand where necessary. It was an efficient process, but it was slow. They lost control of one package, and two of the wingmen had to chase it down. On another occasion, one of the Capella’s people, apparently not paying attention, got clobbered by an incoming unit and had to be taken inside the ship.

  By the end of the first hour, twelve lifeboats had been moved across and stored, and three were en route. They were slightly ahead of schedule, and the operation was improving as the two crews became more efficient.

  Meantime, the Mary Lou Eisner arrived and took off an additional ten people, one more than expected. The Chang-Shi came in a half hour behind it and collected eleven more. Then we heard John’s voice: “Got a problem, Bark. One of the people from the Chang-Shi has gotten loose on the Capella. He’s taken control of the drive. Says he’s going to shut it down. Cease operations immediately and get clear.”

  I was still getting pictures from the Randall, watching its crew continuing to move the lifeboats into the Capella. Despite the instructions, the Randall showed no sign of leaving. A few minutes later, John called me. “Chase, do you know an Archie Cicotte?”

  “Negative.”

  “He’s the pilot of the Chang-Shi. He’s on board the Capella. He’s the one threatening to shut down the engines. He’s telling them it’s the only right thing to do. That it will stop the ship from getting sucked under again.”

  “You sound as if you expect me to do something.”

  “He says Alex told him to do it.”

  “What? That’s crazy, John.” Then I remembered. “Alex was on a show last week. The host—I forget who it was—asked him what he would want to happen if he were stuck on the Capella. He said he’d want somebody to shut down the engines. Take the chance. Something like that.”

  “Well, wonderful. Now we have to deal with this lunatic who took him at his word.”

  “I don’t think it ever occurred to Alex—”

  “Let it go.”

  “How’d he get into the control room?”

  “Can we talk about that later? I need you to talk him down. Tell him who you are. That Alex didn’t mean it or something.”

  How did I keep getting into the middle of these things? “Okay, John, put me through.”

  * * *

  We got a visual. I could see four crewmen keeping their distance from a short, beefy guy who was bent over the controls. Everybody’s eyes, except his, turned my way.

  “Look,” he was saying, “I’m sorry I’m scaring the hell out of you people, but in a few minutes, you’ll all be glad I did this.”

  “Archie,” I said. “You don’t really want to be responsible for killing twenty-six hundred passengers, do you?”

  He spun around, surprised. “Who are you?” he said.

  “My name’s Chase. I work for Alex Benedict. He’s my boss.”

  “Really?” He straightened, and one of the people near him looked as if she was about to make a move, but Cicotte reacted, and she backed away. “Are you Chase Kolpath?”

  “Yes. Please, Archie, get away from that thing before you kill everybody.”

  Archie was about average size, middle-aged, beginning to lose his hair. He looked angry. “I’m not going to kill anyone. Chase, I’m glad to meet you. I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances. But I’ve been an admirer of you and Alex for a long time.”

  “Archie, if you shut that engine down, you may destroy everything. I’m serious. I’ve seen tests where they played around with the drive units, and people died.”

  “Then why did Alex say that’s exactly what he’d do? That he’d shut the engines down?”

  “He meant if he was alone on the ship. If he was the only one at risk, he’d take the chance. I know, Archie, because we talked about it afterward. Alex would never put other people at risk.”

  “Chase, if I don’t do this, the people here will disappear out of the lives of their families for another five years.”

  “Archie, do you have a relative on board?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “A friend, maybe?”

  “Did you and he really talk about it?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay.” He looked around the room. It was presumably the bridge. “Chase, I don’t know anyone who’s on the ship. Nobody.”

  “Then why are you doing this?”

  “Because everybody’s been saying that the odds of something bad happening if we shut down is only about one in twenty. We can live with that.”

  “That’s only a guess, Archie. It’s only a guess.” He stared at me. “If you do this, and you get lucky and nobody dies, everybody will still hate you. You really want to live with that?”

  “This isn’t about me, Chase.”

  “Okay. It’s about the families of the people on board. Think what you’d do to them if it goes wrong. Archie, you have no right to do this. To put other people’s lives on the line.”

  He stood there, his face drained of all color. Then he backed away from the controls. “Chase,” he said, “help me.”

  * * *

  The Morrison came in on time and took off another dozen, consisting of three families and Guy Bentley. Bentley was the comedian who’d almost become the principal in a legal action. His studio was desperate to get him back. Their effort to accomplish his return by threatening to sue had failed, but they’d apparently cut a deal with somebody.

  “I can’t believe John would sell out,” I said to Belle.

  “I doubt he did. But Great Lion Studios has a lot of influence with politicians. I suspect they got somebody to put pressure on him. Don’t worry about it. To be honest, Bentley’s the funniest guy on the planet. I’m glad he’s back.”

  “You’re glad he’s back, Belle? You always claimed you don’t have a sense of humor.”

  “And you believed me? I’m shocked.”

  We watched as the Morrison disconnected from the exit tube and moved away. Only the Randall remained, still steadily transferring its cargo of lifeboats. The smaller vehicles had taken ninety-five people off. Ninety-four if we deducte
d one for Archie, who’d been left behind. Schultz had supplied a spare pilot for the Chang-Shi. So we had about twenty-five hundred remaining plus a crew and staff of approximately sixty.

  I’d counted twenty-six boats transferred as we got down to our last hour. Assuming we would have another hour.

  * * *

  I could see that the Capella cargo hold was filling up. When she went under, Schultz would have plenty of time to talk to her passengers, and get 540 of them into the first round of boats. Then, incredibly, they would arrive in 1440.

  After that, there would be some time pressure. She had three cargo decks, and three boats could be inflated at a time on each deck. She’d have to repressurize, inflate the next round of boats, get sixty-four people in each, decompress again, and launch. Estimated time for the operation: slightly over an hour. If everything went smoothly.

  She’d have to repeat the process four times. That should be manageable, but I didn’t envy her.

  Then we were listening to John again: “Dierdre, we can’t be certain that we know when and where you’ll be back. So do not launch any of the lifeboats until we’ve established contact, and you know we’re within range.”

  “I understand, John. And thank you for all you’ve done. You put a major flotilla out there, and we appreciate it.”

  “We’re happy to help. And we’ll be back for you—”

  * * *

  No one, including Captain Schultz, knew precisely when the Capella had reappeared. But we were working off an estimate that had to be accurate within fifteen minutes or so. We were slightly more than halfway through the eighth hour when I got within link range and decided to try to contact Gabe. I wouldn’t reveal what was really happening because Kraus and Schultz wanted to keep it quiet, and we owed them that. I suspected the people on board had learned the truth by then, but I didn’t want anyone to be able to point at me.

  It took a few minutes, and I kept the images of the lifeboat transfer on the navigation screen. But, finally, the circuit clicked, and Gabe was there! He was seated in what appeared to be a passenger lounge. The guy I’d believed for years I would never see again. “Hello, Chase,” he said, with a shocked expression. “Is that really you? What are you doing here? What’s happened to the ship?”