Alex Benedict 07 - Coming Home (17 page)

Be cautious of a man whose eyes never reflect joy.

—Armand Ti,
Illusions
, 7212
C.E.

The Pacific island and West Africa didn’t take much time. The Canadian town had gone out of existence thousands of years ago. The location was now occupied by South Kolva, one of the largest cities in North America. We were able to determine within reasonable boundaries that Baylee had never been to any of the three locations. Nor had anyone else arrived during the last twenty-five years to establish an archeological site.

“It looks like a dead end,” Alex said.

“I guess so.”

“Okay,” he said. “Before we pack it in, we have one more person to talk to.”

*   *   *

Eisa Friendly Charters was located at the southeastern tip of Aquatica, a hundred kilometers northwest of where the ancient city of Jacksonville had been. It was as close as you could get on land to what had once been the Space Coast. Eisa occupied a pier on Golva Bay. A pair of flags flew over their office, one representing Aquatica and the other the corporate banner, displaying a laughing dolphin seated behind the wheel of a yacht. The dolphin wore a scarf and a captain’s cap.

A young woman sat behind a counter when we walked in. “Can I help you?” she asked.

The room seemed to be constructed of wood and was filled with pictures of sailboats and cabin cruisers. A blinking sign advertised special rates and assistance for divers.

“Hello,” Alex said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Can I be of assistance?”

“I hope so. We’re doing some research on Garnett Baylee. He was an archeologist. Pretty well-known. And he was a customer here some years ago. We’re working on a book about him, and we were wondering if anyone here might remember him?”

“You’d have to see Ms. Peterson. What kind of information are you looking for?”

“Anything personal. Everybody liked Professor Baylee, and we’re hoping to find some background material. Anecdotes. Anything at all.”

“Hold on a second.” She got up and went into an adjoining office.

The sign changed, and a submersible appeared.
Let us take you for the cruise of your life. Visit Miami. Reasonable rates.

And moments later:
Enjoy time at sea with your friends. Friendly Rates from Friendly Tours.

She returned, accompanied by a lean, smiling woman in a blue-and-white blouse. “Your name, sir?” she asked.

“Alex Benedict.”

She glanced in my direction. Hazel eyes framed by soft brown hair. There was something almost mischievous in her smile. “You’re working on a book about Garnett Baylee?”

“That’s correct.”

“My name’s Polly Peterson. It’s been a lot of years since we’ve seen Garnett. How is he doing?”

“He died quite a while ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear it. He was a good man.”

“He was. He also earned a solid reputation as an archeologist. But you probably knew that.”

“Yes. I believe I
did
hear something along those lines.”

“Could you tell us anything about him? Did he talk to you about any projects he was working on? Anything like that?”

She went behind the counter and consulted the computer. “May I ask what kind of book?”

“A biography.”

“I see. Well—” She shrugged. “We took him out on a number of different occasions. Usually, he just wanted to go for a cruise. He loved the sea. He usually brought friends with him. They’d go out and have parties. I got the impression they were usually coming off a work assignment of some sort. There’s only one time that we have listed where he had a specific destination.”

“And that was—?”

“The museum.”

“The Space Museum?”

“That’s correct.”

“Did he go in a submarine?”

She consulted the computer again. “No. They went diving.”

“You say
they
. Can you tell me who was with him?”

She squinted at the display. “He was apparently alone on that occasion. The only one with him was my brother, Khaled. He would of course have accompanied him on the dive.”

“Of course.” Alex looked up at the sign. A schooner was now visible under a full moon.
Try our moonlight cruise.
“Okay. Do you know what he did at the museum? What he saw? What affected him?”

“Why don’t we go into my office?” She held the door for us. “You really need to talk to Khaled about that, Alex.” She smiled.

The office was small, but the chairs were comfortable. There were more pictures of people in scuba and diving gear, of the company pier and office, and of groups of happy-looking customers in nautical clothing.

“I’d like very much to do that. Can we set it up? What I’d really like to do is arrange to have him take us to the museum site. Is that possible?”

“Khaled’s out on a cruise right now. Give me a chance to talk with him, and we’ll get back to you.”

*   *   *

Later that evening, as we were sitting down to dinner, she called.
“Khaled will be free this weekend if you still want to charter a boat.”

“Excellent,” Alex said. “Yes, let’s do that.”

“Okay. The museum tour, right?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Unfortunately, our submersible won’t be available. Is that a problem?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Good. Can you be here by eight Friday morning?”

“Sure. We can do that.”

“All right, Mr. Benedict. The agreement has been forwarded to you. Sign and return, and we’ll take it from there.”

I brought up a picture of the Florida Space Museum as it had been before the ocean took it down. It had been a plain three-story U-shaped brick building fronted by a parking lot. A statue of an astronaut stood near a flagpole. Two landing vehicles and a rocket were in the immediate area. And that was about it. Nothing fancy. There was a myth that the building had originally housed a girls’ school, but there was no evidence to support that.

*   *   *

We ate on a balcony looking out over the ocean. It was a clear sky, no moon, but the stars were brilliant. I was watching lights moving on the horizon when Alex broke in to ask if I was okay.

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I glanced down at my plate. “I was thinking about the museum. And Cape Canaveral. The ultimate historic site. And it’s underwater. How could they not have noticed what was going on? They went to the Moon, and they couldn’t see that the glaciers were melting?”

“I’m sure they did,” said Alex. “But you know how people are. They’re going to resist changing a lifestyle unless the danger is looking them directly in the eye. The glaciers must have seemed like somebody else’s problem.”

It was time to change the subject: “You really think Baylee might have said anything to Khaled Eisa that would be of any help?”

“Probably not, Chase. But the two of them would have spent considerable time alone on a boat. They dived to the museum together. What do you think they were talking about?”

“Probably the artifacts.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Believe the illusion, and it
becomes
reality.

—Ivira Taney,
My Life and Look Out
, 2277
C.E.

We ate breakfast at the hotel. “I need a bathing suit,” said Alex. “There’s a beach place back down the road where I should be able to pick one up.”

“We’re going down to look at the museum?”

“Yes.
I
am.”

“I’ll go, too.”

“You have any diving experience, Chase?”

“Not exactly.”

“Any at all?”

“No.”

“I’ll have the imager along, so you can watch. This is no big deal, and you’ll be safer in the boat.”

“Have
you
ever done any diving?”

His eyes took on a sheepish appearance. “Khaled will have enough trouble just having one of us to look out for.”

*   *   *

We were back in the Eisa Friendly Charters Office Friday morning when Khaled came in. He was tall, gorgeous, a guy who caught my attention immediately. He had the same brown hair and hazel eyes as his sister. He might have been a twin. “Polly told me you were looking for me,” he said, ushering us into the office and offering some fresh fruit juice. “You want to go out to the Space Museum, is that correct?”

“Yes,” said Alex.

“And there’s something about Garnett Baylee?”

“Yes, Mr. Eisa. Do you remember him?”

“Oh, sure.” Khaled was more casual, more amiable than Polly. But both exuded authority. “We saw a lot of him. He’d take his people out for an evening of good times. They loved partying at sea.” His eyes touched mine, and he delivered an inviting smile.

I returned the gesture.

Alex saw the exchange and couldn’t entirely hide his amusement. But he plunged ahead: “When was it that he went to the museum? Can you give us a date?”

“Sure,” he said. “Give me a second.” He checked the record. “June 16, 11,257.” Nineteen years ago.

Alex glanced my way. That made it a year or so before Baylee returned to Rimway.

*   *   *

We boarded a cabin cruiser, the
Patriot
, and headed out to sea under bright, sunny skies. Behind us, the shoreline was mostly beach. A few kids stood in the surf and waved as we pulled away from the pier. Alex and I made ourselves comfortable in the passenger cabin. Minutes later, Khaled turned the boat over to the AI and joined us.

“You guys know Garnett very well?” he asked.

“No,” said Alex. “I never really met him.”

“But you’re going to be his biographer?”

“Something like that.”

The conversation subsided into Alex’s standard methodology. We talked about Khaled’s background, how he’d grown up on the coast, had gone to Aquatica University, where he’d majored in literature. But he’d always loved the ocean, and eventually he’d joined with his sister—who
was
, it turned out, a twin—to form Eisa Friendly Charters, which had four cabin cruisers and a sub.

We’d been out about an hour when Khaled pointed to a passing boat. “There’s
Silvia
,” he said. “It’s one of ours.”

*   *   *

Eventually, Alex got back to Baylee. “So you took him out once to see the Space Museum?”

“Yeah.”

“You say that as if it’s unusual.”

“Well, look, guys, there
isn’t
a museum. I mean, it’s been sitting down there for thousands of years. The tides took it apart long ago. There’s nothing there now. Probably hasn’t been for centuries. Just a few lumps in the ocean bottom. You can see where it
was
. But that’s the most you can hope for. If you want to go sightseeing, there are whole cities down there. Jacksonville, Orlando, St. Petersburg. They’re a mess, too, but at least they’re big enough that you can actually see them.”

“Did you suggest looking at one of those instead?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “He laughed at me. That was before I knew him very well.”

“He was only interested in the museum.”

“You got that right. Look, Alex, I’ve seen guys get emotional about that place before. I understand what it means. But I’ve never seen anybody react the way he did. We went down, and after we came back up, he was almost in tears.”

“He had a fixation about the place,” Alex said.

“He was mad that they’d lost the stuff that had been in the museum. We stayed out here three or four days. He went down with a sensor and went all through the area, hoping to find something. But there wasn’t anything. I mean, they took everything out to—what was it?—Huntsville. And all right, I knew they wouldn’t have gotten
everything
, but it’s been nine thousand damn years. The guy just wasn’t making sense.” He shook his head. “It’s the only time I ever saw him like that.

“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.