Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [8]
When questioned further, he said that the experimentation, if it was in fact taking place, could lead to a space-time discontinuity.
“Is that dangerous?” asked the interviewer.
The physicist chuckled. “We could lose New Jersey,” he said, with dead seriousness.
The story translated into headlines. It led every news show and went national. Another rumor surfaced that Shelborne had been working on an invisibility device. The networks brought more physicists in, or maybe pretend physicists, and asked whether invisibility was possible. The answer was a resounding yes. Which led to off-the-wall questions about the kind of society we’d live in if people could make themselves, or their cars, invisible.
Sunday afternoon, more investigators contacted Shel and descended on his father’s house. They asked interminable questions, none of which he hadn’t already answered. Didn’t these people talk to one another?
Shel was convinced there’d be a call. Or his father would walk in the door with an explanation. “We were trying an experiment for the Pentagon. A new device that allows secret agents to walk through walls.”
CARBOLITE manufactured a range of household and workplace entertainment and communication devices. Their most popular unit was going to be the Showbiz, which would allow the owner to write his own screen-play, plug in a director, select a musical score, choose his cast, and watch the performance. Shel was working on the prerelease publicity when his secretary told him he had a call from a Mr. Joshua Jenkins.
“I’m busy,” he said.
“He says he’s your father’s lawyer.”
Shel didn’t even know his father had a lawyer. “Get his number. Tell him I’ll get back to him.”
He knew what it would be. Provisions of the will. Complications since his father had disappeared and his actual status was unknown. At some point, if it didn’t get resolved, he and Jerry would probably have to start proceedings to have him declared dead.
No, that couldn’t possibly be what it was. It was too soon for anything like that.
He picked up a phone and punched in the number. Got a secretary at the other end. “Washburn and McKay.”
“This is Adrian Shelborne. Returning Mr. Jenkins’s call.”
“One minute, please.”
Clicks at the other end. Then a male voice: “Mr. Shelborne?”
“Yes.”
“I was sorry to hear about your father. Have they found anything out yet?”
“Nothing as far as I know.”
“Hard to believe something like that could happen. Well, let’s hope for the best.”
“Thank you.”
“Mr. Shelborne, I wonder if you could find time to stop by the office? Your father left something here for you.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“I don’t know. It’s an envelope. My instructions were to give it to you in the event he died. Or became incapacitated. Or other circumstances occurred in which it seemed justified.”
“Mr. Jenkins, neither of those conditions applies.”
“I know. If you prefer, I’ll simply hold on to it. But I thought at least you should know of its existence.”
JENKINS was an oversized man, a small rhino, bald, with a pointed white beard and sharp blue eyes. He was seated behind an equally oversized desk, scribbling in a folder, when the secretary showed Shel in.
He looked up. Smiled. Pointed to a chair. “I like your father, Dr. Shelborne,” he said. “I hope they find him. And he’s all right. But I guess you know the common wisdom about these sorts of things?”
“That if he’s not found within a couple of days, the chances of his survival—” Shel sat down. “I know.” By then, he’d been missing a week.
“I didn’t want to say this over the phone because I just don’t understand what’s going on. But he told me there was a possibility he might disappear.”
Shel had to run the remark a couple of times before he grasped it. “He knew this might happen?”
“Apparently.”
“Why? What was he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Didn’t you ask?”
“Of course. He refused to say any more. Only that it was a possibility. If it happened, you were to get the envelope.