DEAD SPAC MARTYR PART THREE THE NOOSE TIGHTENS Part 26,27,

 



26

“We’ve tracked down around a dozen or so people who

saw the vid broadcast,” said Tanner. He’d managed to get

a few hours of sleep, though his head still ached and he felt

like his eyes had been rubbed with sandpaper. “Of those,

about half got mostly static. The others got more. Of those,

about half recorded it. But we knew that already as we used

their recordings to augment our own.”

“Besides you and the technicians in DredgerCorp, who

else has seen the version you showed me?”

“Nobody,” said Tanner. “I’m sure of it.”

The Colonel furrowed his brow. “Take a look at this.”

He spun the holofile to Tanner. It was a communication

sent from someone with the alias “Watchdog.”

DredgerCorps’ Illegal Doings in Chicxulub, the caption

read. The body of the message consisted of a short bit of

typed text—Last Words from a Submarine Tunneled

Deep into the Heart of Chicxulub Crater. Retrieval

Mission Gone Wrong—and a vid.

He opened the vid, saw Hennessy’s blood-covered body

and face, watched his strange smile and brief speech. Oh,

shit, he thought. The worst has finally happened.

“Who sent it?” he asked.

“This copy was sent to Lenny Small,” the Colonel said.

“The list of other recipients is several pages long, mostly

scientists in Chicxulub, but a few others as well.”

“That vid’s originally from Sigmund Bennett,” said

Tanner. “He recorded it.”

“Do you think he’s the one disseminating it?”

Tanner shook his head. “He’s not the type. One of my

men talked to him—it was pretty clear he thought it was a

hoax. He probably didn’t even think twice about it, probably

just sent it to someone else because he thought it was

interesting or weird. I’ll have someone speak to him and

find out who else he showed it to.”

“Don’t bother,” said the Colonel.

“Don’t bother? But you said—”

“Too many people have seen it already,” he said.

“There’s no point in killing anybody now. That’s more likely

to hurt than help.”

Tanner let out a deep breath. He was glad to know he

wouldn’t be asked to kill anybody. “What do we do, then?”

“We come clean,” said the Colonel.

“We come clean?” Tanner felt his stomach drop out.

“That’s not what DredgerCorp does. Shouldn’t we run this

by Small?”

“Small’s not running the show,” said the Colonel. “I am.”

“This is a disaster. I’ll tell you now,” Tanner said, face

flushing red. “I’m not going down with the ship. I’m not

willing to swallow the blame on this one. I’ll fight it all the

way.”

“Calm down, Tanner,” the Colonel said. “We don’t

actually come clean; we just pretend. If we release the story

to the press, then we’re the ones to spin it. We play it right

and we’ll be in a better position than we were in before.”

“How do we do that?” said Tanner.

“Simple,” said the Colonel. “Call a press conference.

Claim that you’ve seen the video that’s been making the

rounds and heard the rumors and that you thought it was

time to set the story straight. You give the press all the

footage you have and ask them to broadcast it. You’re not

losing much there, since lots of people have seen bits and

pieces of it—anybody gets curious enough and they’ll be

able to put together a good chunk of it, just like you did.”

“How does that help?”

“What matters is what you say about it,” said the Colonel.

“You can’t say that it’s a hoax, because that just gives the

conspiracy junkies fuel for their fire. So tell as much of the

truth as you can without damaging us.”

“How much is that?”

The Colonel’s lips tightened. “You need me to spell it out

for you? Where’s your imagination, man?

“First, you say Hennessy went crazy. Not too hard a

proposition to make stick once people see the vid. You say

you had brought him down to Chicxulub because you were

interested in testing an experimental new bathyscaphe, a

borer, a vessel that can at least in theory, dig down through

rock while underwater. It’s something which you’re certain

will change the future of undersea mining, assuming that

you can get all the bugs worked out. Got it so far?”

“Yes,” said Tanner.

“Anyway, you chose Hennessy because of his

experience with submarines and because he was a

company man, someone who was reliable and who could

keep a secret. Obviously, technology like this, the last thing

you want is for information about it to be leaked. You came

to test it in Chicxulub. . . . Why?”

Tanner thought for a moment. “Because Chicxulub is out

of the way,” he offered. “We have a little more privacy here

than we might have had in other places, and it’s possible

here to test how a bathyscaphe would respond boring

through a variety of strata.”

“Good enough for now,” said the Colonel. “Polish it a little

for your answer. I’ll arrange for a few testing permits to be

filed retroactively to cover us. So, you did a series of test

runs along the coast in shallow water, with Hennessy and

another experienced submarine pilot, Dantec. Everything

went fine, no problems whatsoever. Then you decided, after

consulting with President Small, that it was time to test the

bathyscaphe in deep water.

“What happened after that, you don’t know for certain.

When you asked the crew to prepare the craft for a dive,

they informed you that it wasn’t there. When you tried to find

Dantec and Hennessy, they were missing as well. You

concluded that they had taken the submarine without

authorization, perhaps to steal it. You looked for it, but to no

avail: it was either out of sonar range or they had their

engines off. You started a search, you tried to contact them

repeatedly, but there was never any response.”

The Colonel’s lips curled back in a way that showed his

teeth.

“The next evidence of them you had, you tell the press,

was the transmission you intercepted. You don’t know what

happened, but it’s clear that Hennessy came unhinged.

You’ve managed to figure out the location of the sub: it’s

buried deep within the rock in the crater. So now you’ve

contacted the military, asking them for help retrieving the

bathyscaphe. If they’re able to retrieve it, you say that you’re

committed to letting the press know what happened inside

in those last fatal hours.”

“The military,” said Tanner. “Is that wise?”

“It’s not only wise, it’s brilliant. It gives us an excuse to

change the scale of the operation. We don’t have to work

covertly anymore.”

“But who do we contact?” asked Tanner. “Won’t we end

up losing the object to them?”

The Colonel gave another predatory smile. “You’ve

already contacted them,” he said, and pointed both thumbs

at his own chest. “You’re already working with them.”

27

Altman had just sat down at the desk when there was a

knock at the door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” he asked Field.

Field shook his head. “Not that I know of. Do you want to

get that or should I?”

“I don’t mind,” said Altman.

He started for the door, then doubled back to log off the

secure site. The knock came again. “Just a minute,” he

called. It came a third time just before he reached the door,

louder and harder now.

Outside were two men that he didn’t recognize. Locals,

he would guess. They were wearing ties, and dark shoes

that had been polished to a shine. One was tall and thin,

with dark skin and a bristly black mustache. The other was

clean shaven, his skin lighter. He held a smoldering

cigarette tight between his thumb and forefinger, like it was

a joint. He was sucking hard on it when Altman opened the

door.

“Yes?” Altman asked.

“We’re looking for someone,” said the man in Spanish.

“Miguel Altman.”

“Michael,” said Altman. “Can I ask why?”

“You are him, perhaps?” said the taller man.

“Who’s asking?” asked Altman. “Who exactly are you?”

The second man sucked again on his cigarette, his

cheeks shrinking in to make his face look cadaverous. “We

are asking,” he said. He reached into his pocket and

removed a badge. “Police,” he said.

“Has something happened to Ada?” Altman asked, his

heart thudding suddenly in his throat.

“May we come in?” asked the tall one.

Altman opened the door wider and they slid past him and

inside. Field watched them curiously as they came in.

“Hello, Field,” said the smoker.

“Hello, Officer Ramos,” said Field. “Do you have

business with me?”

“With your friend,” said Ramos. “Perhaps we could have

privacy for a moment.”

“He’s not my friend,” said Field. “We just share a lab.” He

stood and limped out the door.

The tall policeman pulled over Field’s chair and sat on it.

Ramos leaned against the wall next to Altman’s desk.

“What’s happened?” asked Altman, his panic over Ada

growing stronger and stronger. “Is she all right?”

“It’s nothing to do with your girlfriend. Do you know

Charles Hammond?” the tall man asked. His voice was flat

and uninflected. He pronounced Charles as if it had two full

syllables: Char-less.

“The technician? I’ve met him.”

“He says he’s met him, Gallo,” said Ramos. “What do we

think that means?”

The tall man, Gallo, ignored Ramos. “How well did you

know him?” he asked Altman.

“Not very well,” said Altman. “We met once.”

“He says they only met once, Gallo,” said Ramos, and

sucked on his cigarette again.

“What’s this all about?” asked Altman.

“What indeed,” said Ramos.

“Where did you meet him?” asked Gallo.

“In a bar,” said Altman.

“Why?”

Altman hesitated. “He had something he wanted to tell

me.”

“Sounds suspicious to me, Gallo,” said Ramos. “Which

bar?”

“How long where you there?” asked Gallo.

“Which of you is asking the questions?” asked Altman.

“You’re confusing me.”

“Just answer my question,” said Gallo, same flat tone.

“And mine,” said Ramos.

“Wait,” said Altman. “I was, the bar was the one on the

beach, near to here, and I—”

“The cantina, you mean,” said Ramos. “There’s a

difference between a bar and a cantina, you know.”

“Cantina, then,” said Altman.

“How long were you there?” asked Gallo again.

“I was getting to that,” said Altman, his voice slightly

higher now. “He called me and asked me to meet him. We

must have been there, I don’t know, a few hours.”

“How many is a few?” asked Ramos.

“I don’t know,” said Altman. “Two, I guess.”

“The bartender says three,” said Gallo.

“Well, he’s probably right,” said Altman. “It probably was

three.”

“And yet you said two,” said Ramos.

“It was just a guess,” said Altman. “How am I supposed to

remember exactly? What’s this all about anyway? Can’t you

get to the point?”

“No,” said Ramos, “we can’t.”

“The point is,” said Gallo, “you were the last one to see

Hammond alive.”

“He’s dead?” said Altman.

“He’s dead,” said Gallo.

“What happened?” asked Altman.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Gallo.

“You don’t think I did it, do you?” said Altman. “You don’t

think I killed him?”

“How did you know somebody killed him?” said Ramos.

“I didn’t know, but I’m beginning to suspect,” said Altman.

“He could have died of accidental or natural causes,”

said Ramos, “but you jump to the conclusion that he’s been

killed.”

“Where did you and he go after leaving the bar?” asked

Gallo.

“The cantina,” said Ramos.

“After leaving the cantina,” corrected Gallo.

“We didn’t go anywhere. We shook hands on the street

and I went home. I don’t know where he went.” Altman

watched the two police officers look at each other,

exchanging a significant glance. “What happened?” asked

Altman. “How was he killed?”

“Was Hammond your lover?”

“What? No, of course not! Are you crazy?”

“Why do you say of course not?” asked Gallo.

“I have a girlfriend,” said Altman.

“What does that prove?” asked Ramos.

“Look,” said Altman. “Why won’t you tell me what

happened?”

The two officers exchanged glances again.

“Was there anything unusual about Hammond’s

behavior?” asked Gallo.

“How the hell should I know if there was anything usual

about his behavior?” said Altman. “I only met him once. I

don’t have anything to compare his behavior to.”

“No need to get upset,” said Ramos, “no need to get

excited.”

“Throat,” said Gallo, and drew his finger across his own

throat.

“What?” said Altman.

“You asked how he died,” said Gallo. “He had his throat

cut.”

“He had a knife with him,” said Ramos. “Do you know

whose prints were on it?”

“Whose?” said Altman.

“No one’s,” said Gallo. “The knife had been wiped clean.”

“Do you think I did it?” said Altman. “Why would I do it?”

“How would we know why?” said Ramos coolly. “We

don’t even know what the two of you talked about.”

“What did you talk about?” asked Gallo.

“This is crazy,” said Altman. “You think he might have

been killed because of something we discussed?”

“How can we know until you tell us what it was?” asked

Ramos.

So Altman did. He took a deep breath and then began,

best as he could remember, to recount the conversation

they had had. When he said the name DredgerCorp, he

watched the two officers exchange glances again. As he

spoke further, he watched as first Ramos then Gallo

crossed their arms.

When Altman finished, Gallo stood up from the chair and

said, “Thank you, Mr. Altman. You’ve been very helpful.”

Ramos was already moving toward the door.

“Wait a minute,” said Altman. “That’s it?”

“What did you expect?” asked Ramos. “That we were

going to arrest you?”

“We’ll be back in touch if we need you,” said Gallo, and

then the two of them were gone.

He called Ada to talk to her about it, but she didn’t pick up.

He still felt unsettled. His hands, he realized, were shaking.

After a while, Field limped back in. “Everything all right?”

he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Somebody I know was killed,” Altman said.

“Ah,” said Field. “That’s terrible news.”

Am I in danger myself? Altman wondered.

“Did you hear the news?” asked Field.

“What news?”

“DredgerCorp’s announcement? I only just heard about it

myself,” said Field. “When I was outside chatting, waiting

for them to get done working you over.”

“What was it about?”

“You can get to it on the feed,” said Field. “Tap in and

take a look.”

He logged in to the newsfeed. There it was,

DredgerCorp News Conference. He opened it up.

William Tanner the man’s name was. Altman didn’t think

he’d ever seen him before. There’s been a lot of

speculation about this strange vid clip, he said, and then

showed a longer version of the clip that Bennett had shown

Altman. I wish I could say it was a hoax, but I’m afraid I

can’t. In any case, gentlemen, I’m here to try to provide

some clarity.

He went on to recount a story about an experimental

submarine with a drilling mechanism, which had been

commandeered and then sunk deep into the heart of

Chicxulub. They were calling on the military to help them

retrieve the submarine. His delivery alternated between

confident and nervous. At the end, he claimed that

DredgerCorp is committed to finding out what went on in

that submarine and why, and making sure it never

happens again. Then, ignoring the reporters trying to

question him, he strode quickly off the stage.

Altman finished watching and then watched again.

Definitely blood, he thought, upon seeing the extended vid

fragment. He had to admit that what William Tanner was

saying sounded plausible. It answered most of the

questions he’d had. The only loose ends it left were why the

pilot had commandeered the submarine and taken it.

Though maybe it was enough to simply declare that to be

madness.

In any case, it sounded good.

Indeed, it almost sounded too good to be true.

Or am I trying to make something out of nothing? he

wondered.

Maybe he should just forget about it, let it go. One man

was already dead, and he might end up dead, too, if he

wasn’t careful. Maybe Hammond had simply been killed in

a mugging gone wrong and it had nothing to do with events

in the Chicxulub crater.

He thought it over, then went back and watched the press

conference again. On one side of the scale were the claims

the press conference had made. On the other was the

pulse from the center of the crater. No matter how you

looked at it, the pulse had started well before the incident

with the submarine. The submarine hadn’t started the pulse,

but maybe whatever happened on board had been what

had strengthened the signal. Maybe it was all coincidence

or maybe it was a big mistake on his part, but he wasn’t yet

ready to give up.

· · ·

When he arrived home, Ada still wasn’t there. He felt again

the same brief thrill of panic he’d experienced when he

thought earlier that something had happened to her. He

tried to call her again, still got no response.

He waited nervously for her, one hour and then two. He

tried to call again, then again, still no answer. What if

something’s happened to her? he couldn’t help but think,

even though another part of his mind knew it was nonsense,

that Ada often worked late, that there was no good reason

yet to assume something was wrong.

But when the door finally opened, he was close to

hysteria. He started toward her, ready to berate her, when

he saw she wasn’t alone. She had somebody with her. A

young boy.

The boy was holding her hand delicately. He started to

ask her where she’d been, but she silenced him with a look.

“Michael,” she said, “I’d like you to meet Chava.”

Altman looked down at the boy. He was young, either not

yet or just barely a teenager. He was barefoot, wearing a

threadbare but clean T-shirt and a pair of shorts hanging

barely together. He was very thin. He had deep brown eyes

and a slightly apprehensive look.

“Chava,” Altman said. “What sort of name is that?”

“It’s a nickname for Salvador,” said Ada quickly. When

Altman gave her a look, she nodded. “I know it doesn’t

sound like it, but it’s true,” she said.

“Really?” he said, and turned to the boy.

The boy nodded, but said nothing.

Altman looked to Ada for help, for some clue as to what

was going on. “I thought you might like to talk to him,” she

said.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked Chava.

The boy hesitated and then nodded. Altman pulled out a

chair for him, and he climbed onto it.

“Would you like something to eat?” Altman asked.

The boy nodded again. Altman opened the fridge and

started to look through it, then changed his mind. “Come

on,” he said to the boy. “Look in here. Take anything you

want.”

The boy approached the fridge as if it were a trap. He

carefully bent his head around the door and looked in, then

looked up at Altman.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Anything,” said Altman.

A few minutes later he had most of the contents of the

fridge piled on the table in front of him. He was tasting

everything. He’d take a small bite of something, move it

around in his mouth, swallow it, and then move on to the

next item.

“What would you like to talk about?” asked Altman once

he was done.

The boy shook his finger at him. “The lady,” he said. “She

is the one who said you wanted to speak with me.”

“Do you think you could tell him the same story you told

me?” asked Ada.

“This is not a story,” Chava said with a frown. “It

happened for real.”

“Yes, of course, Chava,” said Ada quickly. “That’s what I

meant.”

“Okay, I will tell it,” the boy said. “I was walking on the

beach, very early morning. This was a day when in my head

I thought, I will walk on the beach and turn to go to town and

then I will see if there is anyone who needs messages

delivered. Sometimes you, the scientists, will give me a

little money to deliver messages. Sometimes, after two or

three messages it is enough to buy a polvorón or an oreja

at the pastelería.

“But this day, my feet wanted to go the other way. I could

not stop them. So, instead of going in to the town, we went

together out farther along the deserted beach. That is when

I found something.”

“What did you find?” asked Altman.

“I do not know,” said the boy.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean that there is not a name for what I found. It was

like a man but it was not a man. It was also like a balloon

but it was not a balloon.”

“How can it be like both a man and a balloon?” asked

Altman.

“Yes,” said the boy, and smiled. “This is exactly what I

asked myself. I can see that you understand my story. The

lady was good to bring me to tell it to you. It made a noise,

too. Like this.”

The boy leaned over the table and began to make a

strange wheezing sound.

“The bruja told me to burn it, that it was a flea from the tail

of the devil. Chicxulub.” He crossed his middle and index

fingers over each other and held his hand up for them to

see. “But later . . . I found out she was dead.”

“How could she tell you if she was dead?” asked Altman.

“It is like you are inside my head and seeing what I was

asking myself,” said the boy gleefully.

Altman waited for the boy to go on, but he didn’t say

anything further.

“You burned it?” he said.

“Yes,” said the boy. “It burned very nice.”

“What part of it was like a balloon?” asked Altman.

“Its back,” said the boy without hesitation. “There were

the gray sacks.” He touched a cucumber on the table that

he had taken a bite of. “May this come with me?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Altman.

The cucumber disappeared into his clothes. He touched

an onion and made a face.

“Can I ask you something?” asked Altman.

Chava nodded.

“Would you take us there, to the place where you found

it?” The boy looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you promise me

that if you see me and you have a message to send that

you will choose me to send it?”

“What?” asked Altman, startled. “Yes, of course.”

“This is good,” said the boy. “And may I take three more

things from the table, but not the onion?”

Altman nodded, trying to hide his smile. Chava slipped

three things into his shirt so quickly that Altman was not

entirely sure what he had.

“Now I will take you there,” the boy said firmly.

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