thought about it quite a lot, and I’ve finally recaptured the elusive memory. I’d like to
share it with you.
“Nearly twenty years ago I was performing some . . . shall we say investigative services
for the good of the Empire. Certain traitors and other high-level criminals were being
given new identities so they could escape detection. Along with forged identities, they
were receiving plastic surgery to alter their appearance. I set out to discover who was
doing these things.
“The trail led me to a surgeon named William Loxner, who had a practice right here on
Durward. My investigation uncovered enough evidence to have him convicted for his
crimes. I believe the sentence he received was ten years in prison. I don’t know what’s
happened to him since then, although I intend to find out.
“I was telling you, though, about the memory of the necklaces. While gathering evidence,
I visited Loxner as a prospective patient. My first sight of him was when he came out of
his office, saying goodbye to an elderly woman and setting up another appointment for
her. Loxner was in his sixties and the woman looked even older, easily in her seventies. I
never saw her again; she apparently had no connection to the case I was working on.
“But I remember most clearly the fact that both Loxner and the old woman were wearing
identical necklacesintegrated circuit chips on golden chains. Loxner was fingering his
necklace nervously; in retrospect, I’m guessing that the woman may have been a
superior in the organization. At the time, of course, the necklaces meant nothing to me,
but I recall thinking how odd it was that two people would be wearing the same
distinctive article of jewelry. Today I find it more than odd, I find it downright suspicious
that such a coincidence should happen on Durward-a planet with such a scandalous past
and now with a question mark for a present. Do you agree, Captain?”
Fortier’s eyes were alight with the challenge of this puzzle; he was clearly as hooked on
the mystery as the rest of them. “I’m not sure this business with the necklaces has
anything to do with the case against Gospozha von Wilmenhorst’s father,” he said slowly.
“But you’re right, it’s too coincidental to be ignored. Something more is happening here
on Durward, and I’d like to know what it is as much as you would. Tracking down people
after twenty years can be difficult. . . .”
“This is where I’m sure you’ll be most helpful, Captain,” the Duke smiled slyly. “You
currently have the full cooperation of the police and other agencies, while I’m acting
unofficially. You were very adept at tracking down tiny clues on the trail to Helena’s
father; I’m sure you’ll prove no less skilled on this case.”
Fortier’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “There’s just one thing. Putting the gun away
was a nice show of trust, but it was still meaningless since you outnumber me three to
one. You’ve still offered me no credentials to prove I should cooperate with you, merely
old tales and innuendos. I do want to investigate this Dr. Loxner, but how do I know it’s
for the best to share my data with you?”
“You couldn’t stop me from doing my own investigation. I might still hold you here against
your will, though I promised I wouldn’t and I won’t. My investigation will go more smoothly
with your help, but it will get done one way or another. It seems more efficient for both of
us to work together.
Fortier still looked doubtful. He had no firm proof that the other three still weren’t
members of the conspiracy trying to trick him into doing some work for them. The doubts
and suspicions could have been argued for hours, so Helena took matters into her own
hands.
“Trust must always be mutual, Captain,” she said to Fortier. “Perhaps if we give you an
indication of our trust in you, you’ll give more to us in return. You came here to recapture
me. I am willing, here and now, to surrender myself into your custody if you will help with
this case. I’d like to work at your side, if I may; I’m not inexperienced at piecing puzzles
like this together. But if you want you may put me under guard, handcuff me, do anything
that will assure you I mean what I say. Does that add up to the right hour on your
timepiece?”
Fortier stared deeply into Helena’s face. He recognized the sacrifice she was prepared
to make on behalf of this case. After all, her father had just been executed for treason
and she could conceivably share that fate. She was literally putting her life in his hands.
But more than that, her final words sent a chill down his back. “Timepiece” was his
undercover codename. For her to know it at all meant she must have some high connec-
tions in intelligence circles, with access to his dossier. His entire perception of her shifted
immediately. Who was she, to be given such knowledge? It occurred to him for the first
time that she might know far more about him than he knew about her.
“Khorosho,” he said slowly, nodding, “If you can trust me that much, I think I can risk
trusting you. You have yourselves a deal, tovarishchi.”
The next morning Helena returned with Fortier to police headquarters. The Naval officer
made no mention of her, no report to his superiors, nor did he insist on restricting her
motions in any way. He did ask, when they were alone, how she knew his codename and
she admitted she’d been given legal access to his files at one time. She would say
nothing beyond that, however, and Fortier had to content himself with that tantalyzing
piece of information. Helena found, though, that he was watching her more critically out
of the corners of his eyes when he thought she wouldn’t notice. His opinion of her was
undergoing a thorough re-evaluation, and she didn’t mind that a bit.
The first item they checked was the police file on Dr. Loxner. The surgeon had served
seven years of his sentence in prison, where he’d been such a model prisoner he was
released on parole. He adhered strictly to the conditions of the parole and, at the end of
his appointed time, was freed from constraints. There was no record, at least on
Durward, of his ever being in trouble with the law again.
They next checked with the Durward Medical Association and the Durward Board of
Surgery. Dr. Loxner had kept up his membership in both organizations even while in
prison, and had never been uncertified. Upon his release on parole, he was permitted to
open a new practice in tandem with another doctor, and that practice had continued for
another six years, until Dr. Loxner retired.
Helena stared at the file and went suddenly pale. Sensing her reaction, Fortier asked, “Is
there something significant about that?”
The young woman pointed at the name of Loxner’s partner. “Dr. Immanuel Rustin was
personal physician to Duke Fyodor Paskoi of Kolokov. He specialized in prosthetic
devices. He also worked as a member of the conspiracy, building robots. He built the
robot that took your place a few months ago.”
Fortier looked at her, his mouth slightly agape. “You know about that, too?”
“I know about a lot of things.”
Fortier looked at her, not even bothering to disguise the admiration in his voice. “When I
first met you, I naturally assumed you were the spoiled daughter of a Grand Duke. Since
then you’ve been a constant source of astonishment. I keep wondering how much more
I’ll find out when I get to know you better.”
Helena looked quickly away. She could not help noticing his use of the word “when”
rather than “if.” Her pulse was beating out a strange rhythm, and she felt safer changing
the subject altogether. “I particularly know about those robots; they’ve caused a great
deal of damage. This is a fascinating connection, because it ties Loxner in once more
with the conspiracy, and with the robots. If he and Rustin worked on the robots together,
he might have had some role in creating the robot of Herman Stanck.”
She suddenly grew very quiet, and Fortier wondered what she was thinking. She did not
share her thoughts with him, but instead pressed the investigation even harder.
By the end of the day they had learned a few interesting facts. Dr. Loxner was
reasonably well off, and had been able to retire to a private asteroid in the Durward
system several years ago. There was no death certificate, so there was a good
possibility he was still around-and still linked to the conspiracy. An attempt to locate his
patient files, though, proved futile; the records had apparently been destroyed. A further
check on Dr. Immanuel Rustin showed that the man had lived on Durward and had been