Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [10]
Afterward, he went through the building, reassuring everyone individually, as best he could, that the laboratory would continue as always.
He’d brought one of the Q-podswithhim.He showed it around, despite his father’s directions, to see if it rang any bells. But nobody was familiar with it. And nobody was able to suggest a code word to get into it.
BACK at Carbolite, Shel’s distractions must have been showing because, toward the end of the afternoon, Linda called him in and advised him to take a few days off. She was a good boss, bright and easy to work for. “I know this thing with your father has been wearing on you, Shel,” she said. “Go home. Come back when you’re yourself again.”
He argued that he was fine, but maybe he’d take the rest of the day anyhow.
He lived in a town house on Wallace Avenue. It was a quiet area, with a park across the street. The town house was flanked by a pharmacy and a music store. There were a few trees, and a few kids, and he liked the place. He pulled into his garage and went in the side door and collapsed onto the sofa. That apparently set off his cell phone, whose ringtone was “Love in Bloom.” (He and his father had watched a lot of the old Jack Benny shows when he was growing up.) It was the FBI again. “Mr. Shelborne, do you have a few minutes? I won’t take much of your time.”
They wanted more information on his father’s associates. How well did he know Lester Atkin? Did your father have any connection with James Greavis? Had Shel ever seen this gentlemen? And they flashed a picture of a guy with a mustache and dangerous eyes who looked like a hit man.
“No,” he said. “I don’t recall ever seeing him.”
It took more than a few minutes. He didn’t know any of the people they mentioned. When he asked whether the FBI was aware of a link between any of them and his father, they declined to respond. When it was over, they thanked him for his help and disconnected.
He picked up the Q-pod. Raised the lid and watched the light come on.
ENTER ID.
His father had never been big on security. He thought people worried too much, and there was a good chance he’d have written the code word down somewhere. Probably, if he had, it would be among the materials the investigators had taken from the house. In fact, he recalled seeing Clemmie’s name on one of the cards. He called the police and identified himself. “I was wondering if you were finished with my father’s stuff.”
The person at the other end asked him to wait, then informed him that the case was still under investigation.
“I understand that. I was wondering, though, if my father’s personal effects could be returned?”
That seemed to require a conference. A new voice, deeper, more authoritative: “Dr. Shelborne? We’ll need to keep them a bit longer, I’m afraid.”
“Would it be possible for me to look at them?”
“It’s not part of the routine, Doctor.”
“I’d be grateful.” He made up a story about looking for a lost phone number. “Put a guard on me, if you want. I’ll wear gloves. I’d just like to look at his Rolodex and note cards for a minute.”
Another pause. Then: “Okay. Come on down. We’ll see what we can do.”
THEY led him into a side room and, while one of the officers watched, he flipped through the cards until he found the one with Clemmie’s name. It was one of nine character groups on the card. But only two others consisted of seven characters. One was Oscar14. The lone Oscar Shel knew of had been a pet parrot owned by his now-deceased Aunt Mary. He had no idea where the 14 might have come from.
The final possibility was XX356YY. The digits sounded like someone’s batting average, and knowing his father’s passion for baseball, it wouldn’t have surprised him.
He got up, thanked the officer, and left.
Out on the street, he fished out the Q-pod. Both code words came back invalid.
There