Flatlander - Larry Niven [119]
April 13 was the day after the attempt on Penzler. “Where are they now?”
“Headed for Confinement Asteroid. Probably because of the little girl.” He typed. “I remember her now. She was a doll. Interested in everything. She loved low gravity; she was bouncing around—” The screen responded. “Chili Bird’s almost to Confinement now. Is this any use to you?”
“I hope so. Where can I send a message to Chili Bird?”
He told me how to find Interplanetary Voice on a peak outside the city circle.
There would have been several minutes’ lightspeed delay in conversation. I sent a straight ‘gram.
TO: DR RAYMOND FORWARD
NAOMI MITCHISON TRIED AND CONVICTED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER COMMITTED HOVESTRAYDT CITY 0130 WEDNESDAY APRIL 13. EXECUTION PENDING. IF YOU KNOW OF HER MOVEMENTS DURING RELEVANT TIME, CALL ME HOVESTRAYDT CITY.
GILBERT HAMILTON, ARM
I didn’t stop on the way home. I couldn’t guess where someone might have left a puffer for Naomi. Maybe I had already wasted time I couldn’t afford. I felt time’s hot breath on the back of my neck, an unreasonable conviction that Naomi didn’t have months but only hours.
McCavity hailed me in the hall. “Hello, Gil. The offer’s still open,” he said.
“Offer?”
“Someone to get drunk with.”
“Oh. I may need it yet. Let me buy you a drink now. I haven’t seen a bar—”
“There aren’t any. We tend to keep our own supplies and drink in our rooms. Come on, I’ve got a good stock.”
McCavity’s quarters were near the bottom level of the city. He didn’t have any kind of bartending device; the drinks were going to be simple. He offered me something he called earthshine poured over ice, and I took it.
Smooth.
“Distilling is dirt cheap here,” Harry said. “Heat, cold, partial vacuum, they’re all just outside the wall. Do you like it?”
“Yeah. It tastes like a good bourbon.”
“I got a call from Taffy. She reached Marxgrad okay. She says she left you a message, too.”
“Good.”
“I gather you got together okay?”
“Yes, thank God. I was a basket case. She reassembled me.” I sipped again. “I wish I had the time to get drunk in good company. It might be just what I need. Harry, do you know of a Belt doctor, a Raymond Forward?”
McCavity scratched his head. “Rings a bell. Yeah, he’s got some lunie clients. Specialist in fertility problems.”
Futz. Naomi didn’t suffer from infertility. “He was on the moon for a few days. Maybe he had a lunie client.”
“There’d be records. We don’t have restrictions on fertility except the natural ones.”
“Okay, I can check that out.”
“What’s it all about?”
“He was here at the right time, and he came in with a light cargo. Maybe there were ulterior motives.”
“Right time for what?”
“Naomi. Maybe I’m going at this wrong end around. I should be looking for whoever shot at Chris Penzler. But if Naomi wasn’t where she said she was … well, it’s one handle on a puzzle. I can track that down. She could have been meeting someone. Maybe Antsie de Campo, maybe Forward. Could there be two Raymond Forwards?”
“Both Belt doctors? Well, it’s possible.” He sipped at his own drink. “Was Naomi infertile?”
“She was fertile. She’d also sworn never to have another kid.”
“Then that’s out.”
“By another man.”
“What?”
“She swore she’d never have children by another man. This Forward, he solves infertility problems?”
“Right. You’ve got something, don’t you?”
“Cloning?”
“If all else fails, he can grow a clone for a patient. It’s hellishly expensive.”
“Can I borrow your phone?”
“I’ll call for you. What number?”
I told him.
Artemus Boone stood frowning in the doorway of his office. “I was just closing up. I can meet you tomorrow at 1000. Unless it’s urgent?”
“It feels urgent,” I told the phone