“Hardly. But how about a whole lost civilization?”
“How much is it likely to add to our profitability account? I can’t see anyone getting wildly interested.”
“But what I’m talking about could have profound connections with our own origins on Earth too. . . .” Hamil’s voice was rising with incredulity. He looked from one to another of the three faces regarding him stonily through their visors. The futility of trying to get anything across that might evoke a more receptive attitude finally registered with him. He shook his head, at a loss for how to continue. A strained silence persisted for several seconds. Jean moved closer to Dennis.
Then Juanita exploded. “Philistines! Barbarians! Is that all you can think about—your precious accounting balances and profits? Don’t you understand what he’s telling you? We’re talking about events that may have determined the beginnings of the human race!”
“Information that’s priceless,” Trevany put in, sounding bewildered. “Priceless . . .”
“Really?” Banks sneered. “In that case, if enough people agree with you, you shouldn’t have any trouble raising a figure that’ll buy us out. We’re always open to offers.” He shot a look at Juanita. “You see—perfectly reasonable people.” His face darkened. “In the meantime, I want you and your equipment out of here. We’ve got work to do, and you’re in the way. If you refuse to leave peaceably, we’ll be forced to resort to employing stronger measures.”
9
Henry Balmer lived in a small but luxurious condominium contained in a system of glass-walled levels spanning the canyon above where the Trapezium joined Embarcadero, and known collectively as “Crystal Bridge.” The search to trace Sarda’s missing money was being conducted by the Investigative Department of Lowell’s Administrative Congress, which kept their attention away from the real problem. The syndicate that the deputation sent to the Zodiac Bank represented were demanding the return of the quarter billion they had advanced for what the industry buzz was now dismissing as a technology too plagued with problems to be worth the investment. Although finding it was technically Balmer and Sarda’s problem, the syndicate was making its people and resources available to the task. Given the choice, it preferred cash in the bank to bodies on mortuary slabs—at best a deterrent of debatable efficacy to others when all else failed.
Leo Sarda sat in the corner recliner, tugging at his mustache with a thumb and forefinger. At Stewart Perrel’s suggestion, he was taking a week’s convalescent leave from Quantonix, not least because as far as anyone else could tell, the therapy with Balmer seemed to be working, albeit still with some remaining gaps in Sarda’s memories from the period immediately following the experiment. That, of course, was because the events he was supposed to remember from that time had been experienced by the other Sarda—the one who had gone missing—whom nobody at Quantonix knew about. Hence, the syndicate had a pretext for the time it needed to find out what had happened to the other Sarda and Elaine. So far, it had drawn a complete blank, even with Balmer’s numerous and diverse contacts to draw on. Whoever had engineered the pair’s disappearance had done a thorough job.
“We were set up from the start,” Balmer said darkly, standing at the sliding glass door at the rear of the living area, unable to keep still. Outside was a small conservatory with tropical flowers and plants, and beyond, a reinforced picture window presenting a stunning view over the roofs of Embarcadero and along the canyon toward the main Marineris rift. “Probably since before the experiment. Obviously, you couldn’t have been involved, or you would remember it. So it has to have been Elaine. This double cross was never her doing. It was the work of professionals who know the business. So they must have been involved from the beginning.”
“Before the experiment?” Sarda repeated. “So what are you saying? The whole line of hers about using you to keep me around was part of the scam? She had something like this figured out all that way back?”
“Of course she must have.” Balmer turned from the window. His eyes glared across the room from beneath the huge eyebrows. “She sold you the idea in order to create a victim figure they could work on. Then she must have poisoned your mind with fears, and resentments toward the other Sarda, who would risk nothing. Well, didn’t she?”