Benita picked it up and patted it into quiet.
“How much did they pay you?” asked the congressman.
“Five thousand dollars,” she said, without a moment’s hesitation. If they searched her purse or her hotel room, that’s what they’d find, or what was left of it after she had paid for the airfare and the cabs and the hotel and three meals yesterday and one today. The other ninety-five thousand was in a safety deposit box rented first thing that morning, and the receipt and the key were hidden in her bra.
It had occurred to her that all that money might be confiscated by the powers that be and she might not get it back.
The general turned away from the phone and seated himself in the congressman’s chair. “They’re on the way over.”
“They? Who?” asked the congressman.
“People from the Pentagon. They’ll call the president’s office and the FBI.”
“Well,” Benita said, heaving a sigh, “since you’ve got it all in order, I think I’ll go get myself some lunch. I was so worried about putting this in the right hands, I hardly touched my breakfast . . .”
“Sit down,” said the general.
“I beg your pardon!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. If you’re starving, we can send out for some sandwiches or something, but I want you here when the others arrive. They’re going to have questions. I have questions.”
“The people said the cube would give you all the answers and explanations. Certainly I can’t.”
“We’ll still have questions. Just sit.”
He was a man very accustomed to being obeyed, and Benita sat, annoyed at herself for doing so, no matter how important he was. She got annoyed like this with her relatives who were always telling her what she ought to do or had to do, because sometimes she said things to them that were rude, or things she thought in retrospect might have been rude, and the memory of rudeness made her cringe inside even when no one else remembered whatever it had been. Where did all that come from? She hadn’t a clue, but it was why she liked the bookstore, the routines she knew best, customers who didn’t know her from Eve and wouldn’t presume to order her around or comment on her daily life.
Now, however, she was evidently to submit to being ordered. People arrived in waves, most of them wearing suits, some of them wearing uniforms. Sandwiches were provided, along with coffee and iced tea. The questions went on for the rest of that afternoon, well into the evening, moving from place to place depending upon the number of simultaneous questioners. Where had she hunted mushrooms? Find the place on this map. What kind had she found? What time of day? Where had she found the agaricus?Was anyone else around? What had the ship looked like? Where didpleurotus g row? On and on. She drew maps of the place and sketches of mushrooms. Someone provided dinner, hastily catered in a meeting room.
Finally she was allowed to go back to the hotel to sleep, though they put someone on guard outside in the corridor. They took away the money she had left, just as she’d suspected, though they gave her a receipt.
On Tuesday, the questions continued at an office somewhere on the outskirts of the city.
“The money is good,” the general told her at one point. “Not counterfeit. We’re keeping the bills you were given just in case the lab people can come up with anything, but here’s replacement currency. Everyone seems to feel you’re telling the truth. I don’t suppose you’d mind taking a polygraph?”
“I would mind,” Benita said belligerently. She had not slept well, and she had a headache. “I’m sure by this time you know all about me, where I work and what I do and who my family is. I hope you’ve honored my request not to tell my husband where I am, and if you’ve investigated me, you know why I ask that! You know I’m just an ordinary person, that I don’t know anything special. I let people take blood yesterday just to prove I don’t drink or smoke marijuana or take drugs or anything like that. Now I just want to do some sightseeing, and eat some good food and . . .” She paused, ending weakly, “. . . go home.” Actually, she didn’t mean that. Not that home, anyhow.