Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [86]
“Do you interview everyone?”
“Not in person. Customs declarations are usually taken electronically.”
“If I were on the manifest, and I submitted a declaration, but I did not get off, would you know?”
“No, ma’am. We would not.”
Kim thanked him and disconnected. “I’m beginning to understand why Emily never got to her hotel.” She poured herself a drink but only stared at it. “She never got off the Hunter, did she?”
“We don’t know that.”
“Solly, what’s the penalty for falsifying logs?”
“It can be criminal, depending on circumstances. The very least penalty would be disbarment. Logs are sacred.”
“So it’s not something you’d do without a very good reason.”
“You got it.”
“All right, let me ask another question. If you created a bogus set of logs, what would you do with the originals?”
Solly’s brow wrinkled while he thought about it. “It would depend,” he said. “If I’d murdered somebody and thrown her out the air lock, then I’d certainly lose the originals. But if somebody else had done something, if my only participation in whatever this is about was as, say, part of a cover-up, then I’d keep the original logs in case I eventually needed to prove I didn’t do the murder.”
“That’s exactly the way I see it. Solly, who can we get to do an analysis of this thing? Somebody discreet?”
“I have a friend,” he said.
“In Seabright?”
“Yes.”
“Take it to him tomorrow, will you? Swear him to secrecy, but see if you can get confirmation. How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Hard to say. Depends how busy he is. How much we’re willing to pay.”
“Okay. Make it worth his while. Call me when you get a result.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Hang around here for a bit. See what else I can find out.” She opened a line to the desk and canceled her reservation on the morning train.
14
Many demons are in woods, in waters, in wildernesses, and in dark pools…
—MARTIN LUTHER, Table Talk, DLXXIV, 1569 C.E.
“Of course I remember you.” Jorge Gould smiled pleasantly and held out a hand while she watched him try frantically to recall her name. “You’re the sister of Markis Kane’s model.” He waved an index finger at her as if to say who could forget?
“Kim Brandywine,” she said. “I wanted you to know how pleased I was with the Kane you sold me.”
“Oh yes. Yes, that was quite a good buy, Ms. Brandywine. You did well for yourself.” He came out from behind the counter and glanced around at the stock. “Were you interested in looking at more of his work?”
“Perhaps another time,” she said. “There are one or two others that I’d like to add to my collection.”
“No need to wait.” He rubbed his hands together. “We have a very liberal payment plan. Which ones did you want to see?”
“Yes,” she said, ignoring the question, “Kane does marvelous work.”
“He does indeed. Did I tell you I knew him personally?”
“You mentioned that.”
“So what can I show you?”
“Jorge, I don’t plan to make a purchase today. I don’t like to pile up debt. Buy outright, I say. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Well—”
“I’m sure you do.” She mentioned Autumn and Night Passage, and implied that she would shortly be in the market for both. “Marvelous compositions,” she said. “He’s a genius.”
“Sometimes it takes time before the world recognizes this level of talent.”
He insisted on showing her more of Kane’s work. Candlelight depicted a couple having dinner on the observation deck of an interstellar. A candle glitters beside a bottle of wine, thick violet drapes cover the wall, and a waiter stands over them with a tray. The couple are handsome and absorbed in each other. Above, through a sheer overhead, the orange and red ring of a recent supernova casts an eerie light across the scene.
In Passage, a survey ship is silhouetted against a pulsar, caught in the moment that the star’s beam sweeps past.
“These would be excellent additions to any collection,” Gould said.
She agreed. “How marvelous it must be to have known him.”
“Yes. He and I were quite good friends, as a matter of fact.”
“I envy you.” She delivered a smile of pure innocence. “What sort of home did he have? I think when I