Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [60]
“Find the Marmora,” he said, “and my life will have counted for something.”
He sounded like Kile Tripley.
Like Emily, now that she thought of it.
Maybe like herself.
10
Men are so slow-witted and give themselves so easily to the desires of the moment that he who will deceive will always find a willing victim.
—NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI, The Prince, II, 1513 C.E.
Kile’s widowed mother, Sara Tripley Baines, lived in Eagle Point now, had lived there at the time of the event. A search turned up several hits and a couple of recent pictures: She liked to dress formally, and was quite striking even by the heightened standards of the age. Her bearing demonstrated that she was fully aware of her charms.
Sara was the president of an architectural club which annually awarded a prize for best executed design for a public building. She was on the board of directors of Tupla University, and she remained an active participant in competitive gymnastics. Kim watched a VR of her appearance at a benefit dinner where she tried to persuade the attendees to back a building project. Her delivery was a trifle stodgy, Kim thought, but dreadfully sincere.
Kim consulted the directory for her number, picked up one of the Institute’s virtual projectors, and went to a public booth to ensure she could not be connected to the call. She selected a model from the projector’s inventory, a tall, redheaded, aristocratic woman, and then punched in Sara’s number, audio only, which was, of course, correct practice when calling a stranger.
The house AI answered.
“Hello,” said Kim. “This is Kay Braddock calling. I’d like to speak with Sara Baines, please?”
“May I ask what your business is with Mrs. Baines?”
Kim hesitated. “I’m working on a book about the Severin Valley,” she said. “I understand she was an eyewitness to the Mount Hope event, and I wondered whether she would be willing to spare a few minutes to provide some details.”
The AI asked her to wait, and Kim squirmed. First bribery, now this. What was going to be next? Burglary?
She recognized Sara’s voice. “Kay Braddock?” she said, with perfect diction. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you.”
“I’m probably not well known,” said Kim. “Mrs. Baines, I appreciate your talking to me.”
Kim’s visual signal lit up. An image of the aristocratic redhead had just appeared in front of Sara. “Why did you choose me?” Sara asked.
“I watched you speak to the Tupla alumni last year about the expansion project. You seemed to be very observant, and very concerned about the welfare and history of the community.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That’s kind of you.” Sara blinked into view. She was seated in a gray Polynex chair, with a black cat coiled in her lap. She was tall, clear-eyed, no-nonsense, accustomed to being in charge, but pleased at the possibility of appearing in a book. “What kind of book are you writing? It’s hard to see what anyone could add to the material that’s already been assembled about Mount Hope.”
“A woman’s perspective. I’m interested in the long-term effects of the disaster on the families of the victims.”
“Oh,” she said. And there was a catch in her voice, which did nothing to assuage Kim’s rising sense of guilt. “I can tell you about that.” She cautioned Kim that she had not actually been an eyewitness, that she’d flown down immediately after the event, arriving while the fires were still burning. She described those first hours in general