Flatlander - Larry Niven [143]
“Good.”
“And I’ve got another bugful of men coming here. We can send the Mark Twenty-nine back with one of them. Who was that?”
“My highly significant other.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You have others of lesser significance?”
I lied to keep things simple. “No, we’re lockstepped.”
“Ah. Next?”
“I sent what we’ve got on the suit to the ARM. If we’re lucky, I’ll get Luke Garner’s attention. He’s old enough to recognize that suit. And your message light’s doing back flips.”
She tapped acknowledge. A male head and shoulders spoke to her, then fizzed out. Hecate said, “Shreve Development wants to talk to me. Want in?”
“Is that the guy who loaned us—”
“I expect it’s Yonnie’s boss.” She dialed and got a lunie computer construct who put her straight through.
He was a beanpole lunie, young but balding, his fringe of black hair a tightly coiled ruff. “Lawman Bauer-Stanson? I’m Hector Sanchez. Are you currently in possession of a piece of Shreve Development property?”
Hecate said, “Yes. We arranged the loan through Ms. Kotani, your chief of security, but I’m sure she—”
“Yes, of course, of course. She consulted my office, all most proper, and if I’d been available, I’d have done just what Ms. Kotani—but Mr. Shreve is extremely upset. We’d like the device back at once.”
This was starting to feel peculiar. Hecate hesitated, looking at me. I opened the conference line and said, “Shall we decontaminate the device first?”
Faced by two talking heads, he became flustered. “Decontaminate? For what?”
“I’m not at liberty—I’m Gil Hamilton, by the way, with the ARM. Happened to be available. I’m not at liberty to discuss details, but let’s say that there was a spacecraft involved, and citizens of Earth, and—” I let a stutter develop. “I-if we hadn’t had the, the device, it would have been an impossible situation. Impossible. But some r-radioactive material got tracked inside the S-shreveshield— Is that how you pronounce it?”
“Yes, perfect.”
“So we need to know, Mr. Sanchez. We sprayed any dust off with an oxygen tank, but n-now what? Shall we run it through decontamination at Helios Power One? Or just return it as is? For that matter, may we turn it off? Or are there neutrons trapped in that field just waiting to be sprayed everywhere?”
Sanchez took a moment to collect himself. Thinking hard. Mr. Shreve—what would he want? It seemed their experiment had been used to clean up after a spacecraft accident involving celebrity flatlanders! Just as well that it was being hushed up. Witnesses might still remember a two-wheeled thing moving safely through radioactive debris. Meanwhile this ARM, this flatlander seemed scared spitless by the Mark Twenty-nine.
Ultimately Shreve Development would want the tale told. What they didn’t want was noses poking into their experimental shield generator for details of construction.
Hector Sanchez said, “Turn it off. That’s quite safe. We’ll do our own decontamination.”
“Police lemmy okay?”
“I … don’t think so. We’ll send a vehicle. Where are you?”
Hecate took over. “We’ll bring it to Helios Power One. We’re a bit busy now, so give us two or three hours to get it there.”
She clicked off and looked at me. “‘May we turn it off?’”
“Playing dumb.”
“Convincing. The accent helps. Gil, what’s on your mind?”
“Standard practice. Hold something back. It lets a perp display guilty knowledge.”
“Uh huh. You may find that’s harder on the moon. There aren’t so many of us, and communications are sacred. You can be dead a thousand ways because someone didn’t speak, or didn’t listen, or couldn’t. But be that as it may, what’s on your mind? Is this another talent?”
“Hunch, Hecate. Something funny’s going on. Sanchez doesn’t seem to know what it is. He’s just worried. But this Mr. Shreve must be the Shreveshield Shreve, the inventor himself, the way Sanchez is acting. What does he want?”
“He’s supposed to be retired, Gil. But if there was a radioactive spill somewhere—”
“That’s what I mean. Something radioactive, he’d want the Mark Twenty-nine,