“Yes, everybody’s in agreement about me, aren’t they? Pat told me I should have kept in touch, too. Well, I’m not blaming anybody.” Dannerman wasn’t, either, not really; there wasn’t any point since there wasn’t anything that could be done about it now. He changed the subject. “Anyway, it didn’t work all that well for Pat, either, did it? I hear she’s having her own money troubles.”
Dixler looked startled. “How’d you hear that?” Dannerman shrugged. “Well, I suppose offices gossip. It’s true enough. I don’t think I’m violating lawyer-client confidentiality if I say that divorcing two husbands cost her a lot.”
“Ah,” Dannerman said, nodding. “I guess you handled the divorces for her.”
The lawyer winced. “Really, Dan, that’s unkind. I did the best I could for her. No attorney can do more than his client lets him, and she-well, she didn’t provide me with the best cases, you know. That’s about all I can say with propriety. Wouldn’t say that much, you know, if you weren’t family.” He worked on his salad in silence for a moment, then came to the point. “Let me take you into my confidence, Dan. I guess you wondered why I asked you to come down here.”
“I suppose it’s because the club is sort of historic, and the food’s good,” Dannerman offered politely.
“Historic, sure; they say John Wilkes Booth used to eat in this very room. If you like history. I don’t; and there’s good food in plenty of places that are a lot more convenient. There’s only one reason I keep my membership in this place and that’s because nobody I know ever comes here. It’s private. What I wanted to talk to you about is confidential, and in a way it does have to do with Pat’s financial situation. You see-“ He hesitated, then put his fork down and got it out. “There are some funny rumors going around about what your cousin’s up to. I mean this repair mission on that Starlab orbiter. It’s not just that the observatory wants its telescopes working again. People seem to think there’s more to it. In fact, some people say there’s some kind of technology in Starlab that isn’t supposed to be there. The kind that might be worth a lot of money to whoever got his hands on it.”
Dannerman kept his expression blank, but his level of interest suddenly elevated. “How can that be? Starlab’s just an old astronomical satellite.”
The lawyer shrugged. “Whether the rumor is true or not, it appears that your cousin thinks it is. She’s spending pretty heavily out of what’s left of her personal fortune to get what she calls the repair mission going.”
That was a good deal more puzzling than enlightening. “Why does she have to spend her own money? You read me Uncle Cubby’s will. Unless I heard wrong, it seems to me he left the observatory pretty well financed.”
Dixler shook his head. “She has to account to the board for anything she spends out of the endowment. If she wants that mission to fly she’s got a lot of off-the-books expenses to deal with. I wouldn’t call them bribes, exactly. But not exactly legitimate, either, if you know what I mean. She doesn’t want to have to explain them to the board, so she’s been dipping into her capital to pay them out of her own pocket. She’s been buying uncut diamonds, too.”
For the first time Dannerman was startled. “Uncut diamonds!”
The lawyer shrugged. “For what purpose I do not know. She certainly doesn’t plan to wear them, and she’s got better inflation hedges than diamonds already.” He shook his head. “Dan, I don’t have to tell you, that’s not like her. So she must have some pretty powerful reason-and there are these rumors.”
“What do the rumors say, exactly?”
The lawyer said shrewdly, “That’s what I’m asking you to find out. You work there; you should be able to get the facts on it.”
Dannerman quelled a sudden impulse to laugh in the man’s face. “You’re not asking me to be a spy, are you?”
“Oh, no! Nothing like that! I wouldn’t ask you to pry into your cousin’s affairs. All I want you to do is keep your ears open . . . and, of course, give me a call when you find anything out.”
“So you can figure out some way to cut yourself in on the profits-if there are any?”
Dixler flushed, but he controlled his temper. “My reasons,” he said, “aren’t actually any of your business. If you want to take a guess about them, you’re welcome, but I don’t choose to discuss the subject.”
“Let me think about it,” Dannerman said. The lawyer waved graceful permission with one hand, and began to talk about what a fine man Cuthbert Dannerman had been and how charming Dan and his cousin had been as children. Dannerman listened but didn’t need to say much; Dixler was conducting the conversation by himself. Only when the meal was finished and they were getting their checked belongings at the cloakroom did the lawyer say:
“What about it, Dan?”
Dannerman was listening to a message that had come with his carryphone and gun. He looked up. “What?”
Dixler lowered his voice. “I said, will you do what I’m asking for me? I can make it worth your while, Dan.”
“How worth my while?” Dixler shrugged and was mute. “Well, I’ll do what I can,” Dannerman said ambiguously. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run. Looks like I’ve got an appointment I hadn’t expected.”
“Fine,” said Dixler. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
As Dixler got into his limousine Dannerman waited for the doorman to produce a cab. He was thinking hard, but not about the lawyer’s offer. He was listening again to the message that had been on his phone. What it said was:
“Dr. Adcock will be returning to the observatory some time after two-thirty. You should be waiting at the street entrance before she gets there.”
There wasn’t any signature, but there didn’t need to be: the message had been addressed to him as “Danno.”
He made it by two-thirty, but with only moments to spare; but it didn’t seem he had needed to hurry. The sidewalk outside the building was as crowded as always, but there was no sign of his cousin. Not at two-thirty, not at two-forty, not at almost three.
Dannerman leaned against the side of the building between two storefronts to keep his back covered; he had no doubt there were pickpockets among the horde of pedestrians. There was a policeman moving methodically down the block, making the sidewalk vendors pack up their wares and move on. He gave Dannerman a searching look, as he did the four or five other idlers who were standing around, doing their best to look as though they were waiting for someone. Some probably were. One at least wasn’t, because as soon as the cop was ten meters away the man strolled over to Dannerman. Out of the side of his mouth, not looking at him, he muttered, “Smoke? Get high? Want to have a good time?”
“Get lost,” Dannerman said. He looked at his watch. He had stretched his lunch hour a good deal longer than Cousin Pat would approve; if it happened she had come back a little earlier than expected, and was up in her office wondering where he was-She wasn’t. He saw a taxi roll up before the building entrance, and Pat Adcock and her bodyguard got out.
Dannerman wondered just what he was supposed to do, but not for long. Two of the idlers had moved quickly toward the curb. As the cab was pulling away one of them jumped Mick Jarvas from behind, the two of them falling to the ground; Dannerman heard a sickening crunch that sounded like a bone breaking. The other grabbed his cousin, snatched her necklace, knocked her down too and began to run-straight at Dan Dannerman.
Dannerman’s reflexes were fast. “Hai!” he shouted, and stopped the man with a full body block. The mugger squawked, and then lost his voice as Dannerman spun him around and got an arm around his throat. The other mugger got up from where he had left Jarvas writhing on the sidewalk and started over to him; then, as Dannerman turned to face him, releasing the man he had captured, the two turned and ran, disappearing into the crowd.
As Dannerman helped his cousin to her feet and handed back her necklace she looked at him with shaky wonder. “Well, thanks, Dan,” she gasped. “You’re pretty handy in a street fight, aren’t you? And you even got my beads back.”
“Just glad I was here, Pat,” he said modestly.
“So am I.” She turned to the policeman who was trotting toward them at last, sweaty in his body armor and looking annoyed. It was only when she had finished reprimanding the officer for not being present when needed and ordering him to call in for an ambulance for groaning Mick Jarvas that Cousin Pat finally remembered to revert to type. “One thing, though, Dan. I’m glad you happened to be here, of course. But you do know, don’t you, that you’re supposed to be back from lunch no later than two. And it’s a pity you let those muggers get away.”