Martian Knightlife Read online

  "Sure." Kieran keyed in the code to accept a transfer, and moments later the display confirmed its completion.

  "Will you need more from the registration records, like you said?" Patti asked. "That might be a bit more difficult."

  "Let's see where we get with this first," Kieran said. "But either way, I think you've earned a bonus. We'll give it to you when you pick up Guinness. What do you want to do, collect him here sometime? You said you know this area."

  "Okay . . . but I'm not sure when. It would depend on my next time off. And when Grace can get out too."

  "Anytime. I'll wait until I hear from you then."

  "Well, I'm still working right now, so got to go. I'll let you know." Patti hung up.

  Kieran turned back toward June, who had been following, and announced, "Nothing on Sarda. But two Elaines settled bar bills during the week that Trevany said. I've got the card details in here." He waved the phone. "Can you do your stuff on it?" Researching hard-to-find information was part of June's business. She had her own ways of tracking people down.

  "Let me see." June got up, took the phone from him, and carried it over to the office corner of the living area. She sat down at the com system, activated a screen, copied in the details from Kieran's phone, and quickly became absorbed in taking things from there. Kieran stretched out on the couch again and dove into the Kodiak Owner's Manual.

  After ten minutes or so, he looked up and stared across at June's back as inspiration struck.

  "Gold and silver,

  Presents wilvir-,

  Ginity tend to,

  Put an end to."

  He waited. June ignored him. Wasted talent, he told himself, and returned to his book.

  "Aha!" June announced thirty minutes or so later.

  "Are we in business?"

  "Listen to this." June half-turned her head, reading from the screen. "The first is an Elaine Dorcavitz. I've got a log of other payments showing she was just here on a short visit, passing through. She's from a remote habitat out in the Belt, already left Mars."

  "Scratch one Elaine," Kieran pronounced. "But my psychic radar detects emanations of excitement concerning the other."

  "Elaine Corley," June supplied. "Address: 14B Watergardens, Embarcadero! I've got a picture."

  Kieran got up and went to look over June's shoulder, stroking the side of her neck absently. Embarcadero was the wider, southwest-turning canyon arm of Lowell, formed by the merging of Gorky and Nineveh beyond the Trapezium. It consisted of a professional business park and expensive residences and boulevards built around a network of waterways.

  The woman looking out from the screen had black hair, short and curly. Her face was pale, high-boned, with a tapering chin and thin around the lips—not unattractive for those who liked their women intense and serious. She looked about right. But there was only one way to be surer.

  "Let's see if Walter can verify it," Kieran said. "Can you open me another channel?" June gave him a line on another screen and copied through the image. While Kieran called Trevany's number, June carried on delving further into the records she could access on Elaine Corley.

  Trevany's face appeared on the screen that Kieran was using. "Hello? Oh, it's you again, Dr. Thane." June turned her head at the mention of the title, rolled her eyes upward briefly, and went back to what she was doing.

  "Yes," Kieran said. "I hope it isn't late for you."

  "No way. We're going to be up all night on this. What can I do for you?"

  "I've got a picture here of who I think is the Elaine you saw with Sarda at the Oasis. I'd like you to have a look at it."

  "That was quick work." Trevany looked surprised.

  "I said you'd been more help than you thought. Anyway, here it is." Kieran got the prompt and sent the image.

  "That's her," Trevany said without hesitation.

  "You're sure? No doubt?"

  "No question about it. Well, I'm glad you seem to have solved your problem, Doctor. I hope Sarda recovers."

  "Thanks. And good luck with your field work. We'll be in there rooting for you, waiting for the orthodoxy to crumble."

  "Well, it might take some time yet," Trevany said with a sigh.

  As Kieran cleared down, June nudged him with her elbow. She read: "Elaine Lydia Corley. Profession, nursing practitioner. Specialty qualification, neural physiology." June glanced up and sideways. Kieran whistled softly. "And listen to this. Currently listed as the professional partner of a Henry Balmer, associated with the Lowell Medical Center as well as running a private practice. And of all things, Balmer is registered as a psychiatric hypnotist!" June sat back and turned from the screen. "Could it be we have a way of selectively erasing slabs of memory here?"

  Kieran hoisted her effortlessly to her feet, turned her around, and kissed her. "Lovely, I do believe you've cracked it!" he exclaimed. "I always thought you were a true genius. It must rub off. I think we should call Leo and get him over here right away."

  14

  Sarda stared at the features of Elaine Corley being presented on the screen and shook his head. He had listened to the account of Kieran's doings, heard Trevany's story, and was still incredulous. "Nothing. Not a thing," he declared. "If I hadn't heard what you've just told me, I'd be quite confident in saying I've never seen her before in my life."

  "So she isn't someone you've known for some time, and just your memories of her recent involvement in this scam are erased," Kieran checked from the couch. "You must have met her fairly recently. All recollection of her existence has gone."

  "That's the way it looks," Sarda agreed, turning back toward him.

  Also, if Sarda had known her for some time, others would surely have been aware of her—such as Tom Norgent, Kieran reflected. "And you don't know Henry Balmer," he said.

  "No. Never heard of him." Sarda shook his head. "Hypnosis. To tell you the truth, I've always been skeptical of the claims that it could do things like this. So that's how you think they did it? Some kind of posthypnotic suggestion, triggered before I came out of the reconstitution chamber."

  "It had to be the graphic design that disappeared from the inside of the chamber door," June said from her desk area. "It would have been one of the first things you saw when you became conscious—and you couldn't communicate anything you might have known in the moments before it took effect, because you were still inside." She looked across at Kieran.

  "Neat, eh?" he said.

  There was a silence while June finished keying something in, waited, and contemplated the result. Then she turned in her chair to face them. "Then it seems we're close to being able to reconstruct what happened," she said. "Leo and Elaine met fairly recently, maybe socially." She looked at Sarda. "You told Kieran you were under a lot of emotional stress as the time got nearer—and I can believe it. Could you see yourself looking for company to help with the . . . how should I put it—tension-easing?"

  Sarda stared at her moodily for a moment; then his expression eased to a faint smile. "I suppose that would have been more-or-less in character," he agreed gruffly.

  "Could you have talked to somebody like her about the fears and misgivings you told Kieran about?" June asked. "It would seem understandable enough to me." It was a delicate question. She was asking him, in effect, if he might have discussed sensitive details of the project with an outsider whom, when all was said and done, he couldn't have known too much about. Everyone in the room knew that people did such things. It was a different matter to admit to it openly, though.

  Sarda considered the question. "I guess something like that would probably depend on the relationship—you know, how close people get to each other. . . ." He glanced at Kieran, who was listening but saying little. "Oh damn, why am I trying to rationalize? Yes, I could have talked to her about it, sure."

  "Including that there was five million in it up-front for you if you came through okay?" June said.

  "Well . . . maybe after a couple of drinks? . . . Yes, it's possible."

>   June looked from one to the other in a way that asked what more needed to be said. "So Elaine goes back and tells Balmer, and they come up with the idea that the original Sarda doesn't have to go through with the negative side of it at all. With a little bit of help, he can preserve himself. And more. For a share of the proceeds, they can help him collect the dues that he's figuring should be his anyway, since he's taking the risks. It makes sense . . ." Sarda made a face that said he wasn't so sure. June broke off and looked at him questioningly.

  "That mightn't be the way it was," he pointed out. "It could have been me. I might have come up with the idea after I found out that Elaine works with a medical hypnotist, and offered them a share because I needed the help. Or maybe I thought the whole idea up, tracked Balmer down as a necessary accomplice, and Elaine was drawn in later. See my point? Maybe you're not being fair to them."

  Kieran found himself warming toward Sarda. And yet he could only conclude that the other Sarda—the original—must have been a very different animal. It was as if, in some Jekyll-and-Hyde kind of way, the process brought out different aspects of the same personality. Or maybe it was the different psychological factors operating before and after.

  June hesitated and thought about it. "But it works the same either way," she observed. "Balmer sets Sarda up with a posthypnotic suggestion that will cause him to forget everything concerning the plan moments before he comes out of the machine. Elaine switches a body from somewhere for the original Sarda, connects it up, and inserts a patch of simulation code into the monitoring computer so that it carries on generating the right readings. It would probably be late in the evening on the day we had lunch—after the authentication procedure. Then she goes upstairs to the R-Lab and removes the graphic . . ." June looked inquiringly at Sarda. "Would she be able to get into Quantonix to do it?"

  "With authorization from me to enter the building, and given the right access codes? The place was quiet that night. Yes, I could see it being possible."

  June turned to Kieran with an air of finality, as if that ought to clinch everything. Sarda's expression said that he couldn't fault it. They waited expectantly. Kieran stared back at them with an enigmatic expression. There was a short silence. "What do you think?" June asked finally.

  Kieran took a few more seconds to be sure of his thoughts. "I think there has to be more to it," he said. After giving them a moment to register that they were not home and dry yet, he explained, "A three-way split of the five million that had been lodged in the Lowell Barham Bank? Yes, it's enough to get you through a cold winter or two, I'll give you that. But would it really justify established, professional people getting involved in the complications and risks of something like that? And why is Sarda-One still here, fooling with cards and credit accounts? If he cleaned Leo out as soon as the payments were in the bank, why stay around waiting for something to mess up? Why didn't he just grab what he'd got and run?"

  "Maybe . . . to create more mischief first," June offered. "Getting even with his envied alter ego . . . I don't know, Kieran."

  "I can't see it." Kieran shook his head.

  "So what do you think?" Sarda asked him. It was a strange question—asking Kieran to guess what he himself might be up to.

  "There must be more to it," Kieran said again. "They're holding out for bigger pickings yet. But time isn't on our side for finding out what. As soon as whatever it is is in the bag, they'll be gone."

  Sarda suddenly looked worried. "Then what else is there to do? We have to confront them right away with what we've got. Call in the fraud people."

  "And do what?" Kieran asked. "What have you got? No evidence. Sarda-One stays in hiding, and you've got nothing except a crazy story."

  Sarda colored. "I've got a hole in my bank account where five million used to be. Isn't that enough?"

  "So somebody smart figured out how to bust a security system," Kieran said. "That's happened before. Do you think that Crime Investigation is going to need a theory about walking duplicate people and suppressed memories to explain it?"

  Sarda glanced appealingly at June, as if for support, then back at Kieran. "But . . . what else is there to do? You've just said, we have to move fast."

  Sarda was looking desperate now, but Kieran remained unruffled. His eyes twinkled with the light of something new that had occurred to him, which was proving irresistible. June saw the signs of one of his schemes about to be hatched. "The only ones who know what's going on are Sarda-One, Elaine, and Balmer," Kieran replied. "And the only way we have for finding out fast is getting them to tell us."

  Sarda shook his head, confused. "How in Hell are we supposed to do that?" he demanded.

  "Do what they did and turn it around at them," Kieran answered. "We use you to impersonate yourself, Leo. Have you ever been on the stage?"

  Sarda shook his head. "No." He looked nonplussed.

  Kieran grinned in a way that radiated reassurance and seemed to promise that they were going to enjoy themselves. "Then let's start your dramatic coaching right away," he said.

  15

  Elaine lit a dreamer, inhaled, and waited while the first calming fingers began creeping from her lungs into the tissues of her body like water percolating through desert sand to find the roots of a thirsty plant. Then she crossed the living area of her home in Embarcadero to the veranda window and stood looking down at the canal and water gardens below, drawing in and exhaling several more times before feeling the full effect.

  Having to try to act normally to keep up appearances had been bad enough during the regular day. Now, being on her own while Balmer met with a banking contact in town to arrange disposal of the proceeds, and Sarda lying low, she was finding it tougher. Step by step, she had felt herself being drawn into an entanglement that had progressed from trying to help someone who hadn't deserved the bizarre situation he had gotten himself into, to collusion in embezzlement and fraud, and now outright theft on a major scale, with somebody she was no longer sure she wanted any part of at all. She wasn't comfortable, but the feverish pace they were committed to allowed no time to extricate herself. All in all, she was very nervous.

  She was no longer sure, even, where she planned to head for if they pulled it off. Earth had little appeal for her—fine if you moved among the privileged ranks of traditional social sets who lived above the rules, or the supporting castes of acolytes and technicians who engineered their comforts; but not for outsiders. Her misgivings about any kind of future with Sarda had grown worse by the day, and even with a third split of the cool billion that Balmer was hoping to net, she didn't know enough about the ways of the Belt or the outer systems to feel anything but apprehension at the thought of trying to make it in places like that alone. Continuing any kind of partnership with Balmer wasn't an option. She admitted to herself that it had been only ambition and an unseemly dose of career-consciousness on her part that had kept her with him this long; and after watching the prospect of big money drive him like a mania to concocting the scheme they were all now committed to, it would be all she could do to see it through to whatever end lay ahead. In odd moments she had even caught herself wondering if she—and Sarda, for that matter— could ever feel safe with Balmer out there in control of a third of a billion, knowing that they shared his secret. So what sort of paranoia was possessing her now?

  Some friends of hers were crossing a bridge over the canal below. One looked up in the direction of Elaine's window. Elaine stepped back, not wanting to be seen. Two months ago, such a thing would have been unthinkable. What was this business doing to her already?

  The house system beeped an incoming call. Elaine moved back across the room and sat down to take it on the screen by the corner recliner. It was Sarda. Elaine was perplexed. "Leo? What do you want? You know we're supposed to stay strictly off any communications. . . ." She noticed the background; it looked like a residence. It wasn't the second-rate lodging out near the far end of Gorky, where he was hiding out, away from anywhere he might be recognized,
until the time came for him to play his role. "Where are you?" she asked him.

  Sarda ignored the question. Concern was written all over his face. "There's a problem. I have to talk to you right away. Never mind whatever we said before. Everything's changed."

  "Has Henry—"

  "Never mind Henry. This just concerns us. I need to see you now. Can you meet me?"

  A protest started to form on Elaine's lips, but she stifled it before it could turn into words. There was something different about him, in his voice and in his eyes. Even in those few seconds she could feel it. For the first time in weeks she felt herself responding to the person she had laughed and loved with, then found herself falling for . . . only to watch him turn into a stranger. Something had happened—something concerning them, not Balmer's insane scheme. That had to be what Leo wanted to talk about. She gave a quick nod. "Where?"

  "You can get out by car okay?"

  That seemed an odd question. Leo knew that she drove. She nodded again. "Of course."

  "There's a strip of commercial places called Beacon Way, on the north side of Gorky near the Cherbourg tunnel. I'll meet you at an auto, truck and mobile plant dealer's there called Alazahad Machine. It's closed, but I'll be in the office. Don't tell anyone. Come alone. Shall we say half an hour?"

  Again, it seemed an odd place to choose. Elaine hadn't known that Sarda had connections with places like that. But it made sense that he would want to avoid public places, she supposed. "Very well. Half an hour," she agreed.

  It was dark when Elaine found the strip of small office units, industrial shops, and fenced lots that formed Beacon Way. The artificial illumination inside the city was phased to match the natural daylight cycle outside. Round-the-clock lighting had been tried in earlier days, but most people found they didn't like it.

  A flashing sign of garish lights and colors announced the presence of Alazahad Machine. The place comprised a typical-looking office cabin and adjacent workshop tucked behind a distinctly non-typical assortment of vehicles and other equipment. A more solid-looking, windowless, concrete building stood immediately behind. Lights were showing in the office. A car was drawn up outside, standing apart from the stock models lined up along the front. Elaine drove in and parked next to it. It was empty, a Kodiak of some dark color impossible to discern under the flashing colors from above. A more sober mood had come over her on the way from Embarcadero. Perhaps her anxiety, wishful thinking, and the dreamer she'd been smoking had caused her to read too much into what she thought she had seen. Bracing herself to be prepared for a disappointment, she went inside.