Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [148]
He looked at it, puzzled. “What has that to do with anything?”
“Humor me, Ben.”
He shrugged. “My grandmother gave it to me.”
She got up and went over to it, looked at it, and ran her fingers across the shell. “May I?”
“Of course.”
She picked it up and gazed casually at it. “I’d like to have one of these made up for my nephew.”
He glanced at the spacecraft. “I can get you a sketch if you like.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“It is a lovely piece.”
“I think I mentioned before it belonged originally to my father.”
She nodded. “Your grandmother passed it along to you.”
Muscles worked in his jaw. “That’s correct. I assume she told you that.”
“I’m sorry about that, too,” she said.
“It’s all right. You’ve caught me in a generous mood.” He softened. “Why the interest? Why do you care about it?”
“Bear with me a moment and I’ll tell you.” She held it under a lamp, letting its polished gleam sink into her fingertips. “When you were a boy, did it bother you that it had no propulsion tubes? No main engines? No way to get from one place to another?”
“Kim,” he said, perplexed, “what are we talking about here?”
She laid it before him, set it down on his desk, and then held out a picture of Kane’s mural. He took it from her, glanced at it, then gazed intently at the turtle-shell ship in Emily’s hand. He looked at the Valiant, frowned, and turned on a desk lamp. “Where did you get this?” he asked.
“It’s on a wall in Markis’s villa.”
His attention moved back and forth between the picture and the replica. “It’s the same, isn’t it?”
“Looks like it.”
“What the hell is it doing in one of Kane’s sketches?” Genuinely surprised, he put the picture down, placed both palms under the model’s superstructure, lifted it, and stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. She watched him examine it, studying its antennas and sensor dishes and hatches. Here along the lower hull was a long door that might have led to a cargo hold or a launch bay for a lander. There was the familiar ring antenna used for hypercomm transmissions. Here was a pod that, to a boy, might have concealed a missile cluster.
Then his face changed, grew dark. He hefted the vehicle and his brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He was staring at the model, weighing it with his hands. “It feels lighter than it used to.” He set it down and scratched the back of his neck. He ran his fingertips along the aft section. “That’s strange,” he said, puzzled.
She watched his eyes narrow.
“The rear hull should have a crease in it. But it’s not there.”
“I don’t follow.”
“There was a dent in the hull. Nothing you’d see unless you were looking closely.” He stared at the model. “And the gun’s different.”
Kim noticed for the first time that a short metal stud jutted out of the Valiant’s nose. “Different how?”
He touched it with his index finger. “Rounded muzzle,” he said.
“And?”
“It should have a rough feel. Whatever was on there originally was broken off.”
“You’re saying what? That the model’s been repaired? Or—?”
“—This isn’t mine. It’s a replica.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” He set it down on the desk and stared at it. “I’ll be damned if I can figure this out.” He picked up the picture of Kane’s mural. Then he punched a key on the intercom. “Mary, would you come in a moment, please?”
Mary put her head in the door. She was the dark-skinned female from the outer office. “Yes, Mr. Tripley?”
He directed her attention to the Valiant. “This is a duplicate,” he said. “Do you know what happened to the original? Did somebody break it and get another one?”
“No, sir,” she said. “Not that I know of.”
“I’ll be damned if I understand that,” he said when she was gone. His gaze turned toward Kim. “Do you know anything about this?”
“No.” She was running her own fingers