The apartment door was opened by a tall, thin man with an untidy mop of white hair. He was wearing a tattered sweater and smoking a pipe. Robert wondered whether he had created the image of an archetypical college professor, or whether the image had created him.
“Professor Schmidt?”
“Yes?”
“I wonder if I might talk to you a moment. I’m with—”
“We have already talked,” Professor Schmidt said. “You are the man who telephoned me this morning. I am an expert at recognizing voices. Come in.”
“Thank you.” Robert entered a living room crowded with books. Against the walls, rising from the floor to ceiling were bookcases filled with hundreds of volumes. Books were stacked everywhere: on tables, on the floor, on chairs. The sparse furniture in the room seemed to be an after-thought.
“You’re not with any Swiss tour bus company, are you?”
“Well, I—”
“You are American.”
“Yes.”
“And this visit has nothing to do with my lost glasses that were not lost.”
“Well—no, sir.”
“You are interested in the UFO I saw. It was a very upsetting experience. I always believed they might exist, but I never thought I would see one.”
“It must have been a terrible shock.”
“It was.”
“Can you tell me anything about it?”
“It was—it was almost alive. There was a kind of shimmering light around it. Blue. No, maybe more of a gray. I—I’m not sure.”
He remembered Mandel’s description: “It kept changing colors. It looked blue…then green.”
“It had broken open, and I could see two bodies inside. Small…big eyes. They were wearing some kind of silver suit.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about your fellow passengers?”
“My fellow passengers on the bus?”
“Yes.”
The professor shrugged. “I know nothing of them. They were all strangers. I was concentrating on a lecture I was going to give the next morning, and I paid very little attention to the other passengers.”
Robert watched his face, waiting.
“If it will help you any,” the professor said, “I can tell you what countries some of them came from. I teach chemistry, but the study of phonetics is my hobby.”
“Anything you can remember would be appreciated.”
“There was an Italian priest, a Hungarian, an American with a Texas accent, an Englishman, a Russian girl—”
“Russian?”
“Yes. But she was not from Moscow. From her accent, I would say Kiev, or very near there.”
Robert waited, but there was only silence. “You didn’t hear any of them mention their names or talk about their professions?”
“I’m sorry. I told you, I was thinking about my lecture: It was difficult to concentrate. The Texan and the priest sat together. The Texan never stopped talking. It was very distracting. I don’t know how much the priest even understood.”
“The priest—”
“He had a Roman accent.”
“Can you tell me anything more about any of them?”
The professor shrugged. “I’m afraid not.” He took another puff on his pipe. “I’m sorry I can’t be of any help to you.”
A sudden thought came to Robert. “You said you’re a chemist?”
“Yes.”
“I wonder if you would mind taking a look at something, Professor.” Robert reached in his pocket and pulled out the piece of metal Beckerman had given him. “Can you tell me what this is?”
Professor Schmidt took the object in his hand, and as he examined it, his expression changed. “Where—where did you get this?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say. Do you know what it is?”
“It appears to be part of a transmitting device.”
“Are you sure?”
He turned it over in his hand. “The crystal is dilithium. It’s very rare. See these notches here? They suggest that this fits into a larger unit. The metal itself is…My God, I’ve never seen anything like it!” His voice was charged with excitement. “Can you let me have this for a few days? I would like to do some spectrographic studies on it.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Robert said.
“But—”
“Sorry.” Robert took back the piece of metal.
The professor tried to conceal his disappointment. “Perhaps you can bring it back. Why don’t you give me your card? If I think of anything more, I’ll call you.”