Alex Benedict 07 - Coming Home (16 page)

Not much is known about him from that point until, about twenty years later, he has become director of the Prairie House. He first appears in Huntsville as a stranger approaching Abraham Cutler, with a plan to save the Apollo artifacts at a time when the Space Museum, and the entire area, was under siege by desperate mobs.

“Collins describes the attacks by thugs determined to loot the museum. The security people held on, but the area was coming apart. He quotes Mary Castle, a historian living in that period, as saying that Zorbas was determined to save the Apollo artifacts. The Dakotas weren’t especially safe either, but Zorbas was convinced he could protect them. In any case, it was far more stable than Huntsville. Cutler apparently knew him, or in any event trusted him. They put together a working generator and used it to recharge a small fleet of trucks. Then they loaded everything onto the vehicles and took it to Grand Forks, where it was stored in the Prairie House. When conditions deteriorated there, Zorbas moved the artifacts again. Cutler is out of the picture by then.

“Zorbas puts together another truck convoy. And they load it with the artifacts. But where does it go? Collins doesn’t say. He admits that there’s no way to verify that it even happened.”

When we looked at the published version, the section about Zorbas took the action as far as the Prairie House in Grand Forks. But after that, there was no further mention of what happened. We could not find a copy of
Lost Cause
, the Mary Castle book cited by Collins.

*   *   *

We spent several more days going through the material and were about to give up when
I
caught something. Usually it’s Alex, but my turn had come. “Shawn Silvana,” I said.

“What about him?”

“Shawn’s a female. And the big thing is that she’s still alive.”

“What else?”

“I was looking at her
Coming Home to Aquarius
. It’s a history of the early colonial years in space.”

“Why do we care?”

“It’s dedicated to
my good friend and mentor Marco Collins
.”

“And you think that she might know—”

“—What Collins really believed about the artifacts. Why he deleted the material about Zorbas. It’s a long shot, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

The problem with
The Dark Age
is that we’re sitting here a hundred years after it went away, and nobody yet has turned the lights on.

—Hamid Sayla,
Lessons Learned
, 3811
C.E.

Shawn Silvana had fashioned a long career tracing the development of human worlds from their early outpost stage through the middle years as communities and cultures took hold, and finally evolving to their present state, in which they functioned simultaneously as independent entities and members of the Confederacy. She was based at the North American Historical Center, in Brimbury, 120 kilometers west of Winnipeg.

Brimbury was a beautiful city, a glittering array of soaring towers and wide streets, aesthetic schools and houses, most in geometrically precise positions, separated by gardens and meadows. The Historical Center was headquartered in a wide building with a flowing dome and elevated walkways.

We thought we had an appointment to talk with Professor Silvana, but when we went inside, an administrative aide apologized and informed us that she was on a field trip and that the data system had not been updated. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “We don’t expect her back for several months.”

My first reaction was that, since Silvana specialized in the development of planetary cultures, we would have to do some serious traveling to talk with her. But we caught a break. “No,” said the aide, “she’s in Europe. They’re doing a dig at Koratska.”

“Would it be possible to talk with her?” Alex asked.

“I can try,” she said. “Give me a minute.”

We were led into a conference room and, moments later, Shawn Silvana blinked on. We knew her, of course, from the pictures in the books. She was well into her second century, with red hair and dark skin, and a lot of animation. She looked at us curiously, took off her field hat, and sat down on a large log. We could see behind her a section of the dig site, by which I mean a large hole. Beyond that was heavy forest.

“What’s your name again?”
she asked.
“I didn’t have a good connection.”

“Alex Benedict. This is my associate, Chase Kolpath.”

It was dark, and the moon gleamed in the branches behind her.
“Alex and Chase. That rings a bell.”

“We’re antiquarians,” Alex said.

She laughed.
“Good. Excellent. Do you know what we’ve found here?”

“I have no idea,” said Alex.

“The headquarters of Andrew Boyle.”

That caught his attention. “Marvelous. Are you sure? They’ve been looking for that for centuries.”

“Oh, yes. There’s no question about it. This was his base.”

“Who’s Andrew Boyle?” I asked.

Alex responded: “He’s one of the heroes of the Dark Age. Died too soon. He was betrayed by one of his own people. If he’d survived, they might have been able to avoid some of the worst effects of the collapse.”

“Well,”
said Shawn,
“that’s very good, Alex. You know your material. That’s certainly part of the mythology, but God knows it’s unlikely that any one person, even Boyle, could have headed off much of what was coming. It was too late by the time he got into the fight.”

“Boyle,” said Alex, “lived during the period when the corporates and the governments were trying to get up and running again. There was a lot of turmoil, but it really seemed, for a short time, as if a transition to a more stable society was actually happening. He was a leader for the ages, and he was there at exactly the right moment. The situation had reached a tipping point, and it could have gone either way. He had a lot of support. Worldwide. After he was killed, everything came apart.”

“Well,”
said Shawn,
“it was all a long time ago. Alex, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call? And I should tell you that I’m sorry I’m not there to see you in person. I don’t guess I could talk you into coming over here to Koratska?”

“We appreciate the invitation, Shawn. Might some artifacts be available?”

“We’d be happy to show you what we have. But everything we find is already designated. The university would run me out of town if I compromised any of the find.”

Alex smiled. No surprise. “Shawn, are you familiar with Garnett Baylee?”

“Of course,”
she said.
“He was a close friend.”

Alex explained about the transmitter while her eyes widened. “We’re trying to figure out where he found it.”

“You think he might have located the rest of the artifacts? The ones that were at Prairie House?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Incredible.”
She was silent for a few moments.
“How can I help?”

“I was hoping you might have some idea where they were taken? Some hint?”

“I have no idea, Alex. I’m sorry. I wish I did.”

“You knew Marco Collins?”

“I did.”

“Did you ever discuss this with him?”

“Sure.”

“We read an account of the transfer from Huntsville to Grand Forks in an early draft of
The Grand Collapse
. And then that they were getting ready to move everything again away from Grand Forks. But it didn’t say where. And that whole section was cut out of the final version.”

“Did he do that? I wasn’t aware of it. Well, that might have been because there was no specific evidence. No indication where they might have taken all that stuff. Assuming they did. He probably didn’t have anything more than the tradition.”

“What do you know about Zorbas?”

“Enough that I can believe the story, that he’d do anything necessary to rescue the artifacts. When the thieves and vandals arrived in Grand Forks, he became one of the leaders of the defense. He was one of the heroes of that era. We
do
have documentary evidence of that. But I suspect during that period he had a lot more to worry about than some artifacts.”

“I was wondering,” said Alex, “if his heroic stature wasn’t the reason the tradition formed. That people thought sure, it was the sort of thing he would have done. Except, yes, maybe he was too busy saving lives.”

Somebody handed Shawn a cup. Probably coffee. She sipped it.
“It’s possible.”

They both fell silent.

“Okay,” said Alex, “thanks, Shawn. We won’t take any more of your time.”

“Well, there is one thing that Marco mentioned.”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “What?”

“He told me he’d seen a comment attributed to Zorbas’s brother Jerome that he’d taken the artifacts to Greece.”

“To Greece?”

“To a place near where he was born. Larissa. But Marco didn’t buy it. Greece was even more disrupted then than North America was.”

“Larissa,” said Alex. “Did Marco have any direct contact with Baylee?”

“I have no idea, Alex. But it’s certainly possible. Marco would have been teaching at the university at about the same time Baylee was doing his research there.”

Historians are not to be trusted. They believe what they wish, crushing facts underfoot and twisting outcomes to fit preconceptions. History, as it is presented to us, is no more than a point of view.

—Algernon Eddy,
Notebooks
, 1366

The final version of
The Grand Collapse
reported only that Dmitri Zorbas was “believed” to be at the Prairie House when the decision was taken to shut it down. Whether they were “shutting down” a trove of artifacts or simply a communal establishment is left unclear.

“Do we head for the Aegean now?” I asked. Larissa was located north of the Pagasetic Gulf.

“I don’t know,” said Alex. “What do you think?”

That kind of indecisiveness was unlike him. “I assumed that was automatic. Why do you ask?”

“It doesn’t feel right. I can’t believe he’d have taken the artifacts to Greece. They wouldn’t have been any safer. And he’d already given up twice on the area.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s time to go home.”

I can’t explain what happened next. I wasn’t ready to give up, but I was also inclined to agree that charging off to Europe with several truckloads of artifacts during a time of worsening instability didn’t seem like a smart move. On the other hand, what other course did we have? “Your call, Alex.”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

He retired to his room, where I knew he’d go back to plowing through the library books, while I turned on the HV. I needed a break. I probably sat for an hour or so watching
Last Man Out
and
The Harvey Gant Show
. They’re pretty weak comedies, but I wanted something light. When they were over, I put on a talk show just as Alex, wrapped in a robe, came out of his room carrying his notebook and wearing a broad smile. “Chase,” he said, “did you look at either of the poetry books they gave us?”

“No. I never got to them. Why?”

“They’re both Marcel Kalabrian collections. I’d never heard of him before, but he was alive during the thirty-third century.”

“Okay,” I said. “Does he have anything helpful to say?”

The smile widened. He opened the notebook. “It’s called ‘Coffee,’” he said.

In the cold gray morning light,

They loaded our history into their trucks

And cars, and turned into the rising sun.

They drank their coffee

And rode out of town while the rest of us slept.

“That’s a bit of a coincidence,” I said. “Was he there when they took the artifacts out of Huntsville?”

“I don’t think he’s referring to Huntsville.”

“Why not?”

“Wrong image. The Huntsville transfer was made by plane.”

“Then you’re thinking Prairie House?”

His eyes met mine. “Kalabrian lived in Grand Forks.”

It’s Greek to me.

—Shakespeare,
Julius Caesar
, 1599
C.E.

Like the other nations of the ancient world, Greece had long since ceased to exist. Nor was there any longer a place in that area known as Larissa. We knew, though, where it had been.

The plane came in over rolling green fields, patches of forest, and occasional towns. Off to the east, the countryside turned rugged. Beyond it, the Aegean sparkled in the morning sunlight. Alex had spent most of the flight reading whatever he could find about Dimitri Zorbas. “Most historians don’t think he actually existed,” he said. “But at a distance of eight thousand years, the evidence for anybody’s existence, except major kings and presidents and people like Einstein and Kalaska, is questionable.”

“Did you look up
Larissa
?”

“‘Ancient Greek city located near present-day Elpis. Destroyed by Moravian rebels during the Sixth Millennium.’ It was a famous cultural center for a long time. There’s a list of major artists, playwrights, poets, and composers associated with the city.”

“You think there’s much chance we’ll actually find something here?”

“Probably not,” he said. “But it’s a place to start.”

*   *   *

We touched down at Elpis, checked into the Parakletos Hotel, and rented a car. Before leaving America, Alex had set up a meeting with one of the professors in the archeology department at Papadopoulos University, indicating he’d like to get some information about local archeological activity.

After we’d gotten settled, he called the school and got through to the professor, Theta Taras. She was an older woman, probably well into her fifteenth decade.
“When would you like to come over?”
she asked.

“At your leisure, Theta,” he said. “I suspect we’ve a much more flexible schedule than you do.”

“Well,”
she said,
“I’ll be free any time after three thirty.”

“Perfect. We’ll be there.”

*   *   *

The university was of modest size. Three or four buildings, boasting classic architecture, which suggested that the Greek spirit was not dead. The campus was filled with hedges and flowering bushes and fountains. When we arrived, students were on the run, and bells were ringing. The car let us off in one of several parking areas and gave us directions for reaching the Student Union Building.

Theta’s office was on the second floor. Sunlight poured in through two sets of windows. There were pictures of Theta posing with students and colleagues at dig sites and award ceremonies. Plaques and bronze cups looked out at us from a cabinet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chase,” she said, with a broad smile. “And Alex Benedict. I never expected to have a chance to say hello to
you
. That’s a marvelous service you provided with those missing interstellars. I can’t imagine what those people must be going through.”

“Thank you, Theta. And you’re right. I hope we’re able to get them clear.”

A door opened, and a young lady came in with a tray full of snacks. I wasn’t sure what they were, but they were brimmed with icing.

There was a ruggedness about Theta that suggested she’d done a lot of fieldwork. She had amber-colored hair that literally gleamed when the sunlight touched it. “Alex,” she said, “you indicated that you wanted to talk about archeological projects here in Elpis. If you’ve no objection, I want to invite one of my colleagues to sit in. He’s been more involved in local efforts than I have.”

“That’s fine,” said Alex.

“I don’t think anything of archeological significance has happened in Elpis over the past century that Manos wouldn’t know about. Assuming that something actually
has
happened.”

Manos was considerably smaller than she was and probably a few years older. He seemed much more the classic academic type, with inquisitive brown eyes, sharp features, and a goatee. We did another round of introductions. His last name was Vitalis, and he was the chairman of the archeology department.

“We’re looking for a project,” Alex said, “that would have taken place approximately eighteen years ago. Garnett Baylee would have been running it. Has either of you ever met him?”

Theta indicated no.

“I did on one occasion,” said Manos. “Just to say hello to. But that would have been—” He stopped to think. “It was at the award ceremony for Benjamin’s retirement. That would make it a quarter of a century. Give or take a couple of years. Theta tells me you are doing a hunt for some space artifacts.”

“That’s correct. From the Prairie House in Centralia. It was originally material from the Huntsville Space Museum.”

“Why do you think they would have been brought here?”

“The evidence isn’t exactly overwhelming, Manos. Just a comment by Marco Collins to a colleague. You know who he was?”

Manos nodded. “Of course. And Collins thought these artifacts had been brought here?”

“He admitted the possibility. That would probably have been enough to bring Baylee looking. It’s possible, by the way, that if he
did
come, he might not have revealed what he was actually looking for.”

“Why would he have done that?”

“We don’t know. But there may be a layer of secrecy about this.”

“We have a list,” said Theta. She put it on the display. “These are local projects initiated during the period in which you’re interested.” There were seventeen of them, extending between twenty-five and seventeen years earlier. One by one, they took us through them. The Welka Initiative was sponsored by the Athenian Historical Society, and had consisted of an excavation in an area that had once been the headquarters of Mikos Valavos and his rebel group. They’d been active during the period in question. Next was the Olmert Project, which was funded by the Southwick Foundation. That, of course, immediately caught our attention. “They were looking for a
library
,” Theta explained, “a collection of physical books that was believed to include classics all the way back to Homer. They thought they might recover
The Iliad
. And several hundred other titles that we’ve lost.” He sounded genuinely frustrated. “But they got nothing.”

We looked at the documents from the Olmert Project. They contained nothing suggesting the excavation team was trying to find anything other than what they claimed. In addition, people who knew Baylee had been at the dig site. Baylee had never been seen and, if we could believe the record, had had no connection with the effort. And, in fact, the project had occurred after he had returned to Rimway.

Theta and Manos continued through the entire list. Nothing else came close to qualifying.

*   *   *

We weren’t even off the campus before Alex commented that, by the way, there were three other places named Larissa.

“Oh,” I said.

“We assumed because he was from the Greek one—”

“I get it. Where are the others?”

“Canada and West Africa. And a Pacific island.”

“Are we going?”

“You think there’ll be a sunrise tomorrow?”