"Look, I know I don’t have any right to interfere in your private life, and I’m not trying to," Norman Pacey said from an armchair in his private room at Bruno some hours after Sobroskin had talked to him about Janet. He tried to make his voice reasonable and gentle, but at the same time firm. "But when it gets to the point where I get dragged in and it affects the delegation’s business, I have to say something."
From the chair opposite, Janet listened without changing expression. There was just a trace of moisture in her eyes, but whether that was due to remorse, anger, or to a sinus condition that had nothing to do with either, Pacey couldn’t tell. "I suppose it was a bit silly," she said at last in a small voice.
Pacey sighed inwardly and did his best not to show it. "Sverenssen should have known better anyway," he said, hoping that it might be a consolation. "Hell—look, I can’t tell you what to do, but at least be smart. If you want my advice for what it’s worth, I’d say forget the whole thing and concentrate on your job here. But it’s up to you. If you decide not to, then keep things so that they don’t give Malliusk anything to come bitching about to us. There—that’s as frank as I can be."
Janet stroked her lip with a knuckle and smiled faintly. "I’m not sure if that would be possible," she confided. "If you want the real reason why it’s bugging him, it’s because he’s had this thing about me ever since I came up here."
Pacey groaned under his breath. He had felt himself slipping into a father role, and her responding to it. Now her whole life story was about to come pouring out. He didn’t have the time. "Oh Jesus. . ." He spread his hands appealingly. "I really don’t want to get too involved in your personal life. I just felt there was an aspect that I ought to say something about purely as the U.S. member of the delegation. Suppose we simply leave it at that and stay friends, huh?" He pushed his mouth into a grin and looked at her expectantly.
But she had to explain everything. "I guess it was just that everything here was so strange and different. . . you know. . . out here on the back of the Moon." She looked a little sheepish. "I don’t know . . . I suppose it was nice to meet someone friendly."
"I understand." Pacey half-raised a hand. "Don’t imagine you’re the first—"
"And he was such a different kind of man to talk to. . . . . He understood things too, like you." Her expression changed suddenly, and she looked at Pacey in a strange way, as if unsure about voicing something that was on her mind. Pacey was about to stand up and bring the matter to a close before she turned the room into a private confessional, but she spoke before he could move. "There’s something else I’ve been wondering about . . . whether I ought to mention it to somebody or not. It seemed okay at the time, but. . . . oh, I don’t know—it’s been kind of bothering me." She looked at him as if waiting for a signal to go on. Pacey stared back without the slightest indication of interest. She went on anyway. "He gave me some micromemories with some additional data in for appending to the transmissions that Malliusk has been handling. He said it was just some extra trivial stuff, but . . . I don’t know . . . there was something strange about the way he said it." She released her breath sharply and seemed relieved. "Anyhow, there—now you know about it."
Pacey’s posture and manner had changed abruptly. He was leaning forward and staring at her, a shocked look on his face. Her eyes widened in alarm as she realized that what she had said was more serious than she thought. "How many?" he demanded crisply.
"Three. . . . The last was early this morning."
"When was the first?"
"A few days ago . . . more maybe. It was before Karen Heller left."
"What did they say?"
"I don’t know." Janet shrugged helplessly. "How would I know that?"
"Aw, come on." Pacey waved a hand impatiently. "Don’t tell me you weren’t curious. You’ve got the equipment to read a memory onto a screen."
"I tried to," she admitted after a few seconds. "But they had a lockout code that wouldn’t permit a read from the console routine. They must have had a built-in, one-time activating sequence from the transmission call. They’d self-erased afterward."
"And that didn’t make you suspicious?"
"At first I thought it was just some kind of routine UN security procedure. . . . Then I wasn’t so sure. That was when it started bothering me." She looked across at Pacey nervously for a few seconds, then added timidly, "He did say it was only some trivial additions." Her tone said she didn’t believe that now, either. Then she lapsed into silence while Pacey sat back with a distant expression on his face, gnawing unconsciously at the knuckle of his thumb while his mind raced through the possible meaning of what she had said.
"What else has he said to you?" he asked at last.
"What else?"
"Anything. Try and remember anything strange or unusual that he might have done or talked to you about—even things that sound stupid. This is important."
"Well . . ." Janet frowned and stared at the wall behind him. "He told me about all the work he did for disarmament and how he was mixed up in turning the UN into an efficient global power since then . . . all the people in high places that he knows all over."
"Uh huh. We know about that. Anything else?"
A smile flickered on Janet’s mouth for a second. "He gets mad because you seem to give him a hard time at the delegation meetings. I get the impression he thinks you’re a mean bastard. I can’t think why, though."
"Yes."
Her expression changed suddenly. "There was something else, not long ago. . . . Yesterday, it was." Pacey waited and said nothing. She thought for a moment. "I was in his quarters—in the bathroom. Somebody else from the delegation came in the front door suddenly, all excited. I’m not sure which one it was. It wasn’t you or that little bald Russian guy, but somebody foreign. Anyhow, he couldn’t have known I was in there and started talking straight away. Niels shut him up and sounded really mad, but not before this other guy had said something about some news coming in that something out in space a long way off would be destroyed very soon now." She wrinkled her brow for a moment, then shook her head. "There wasn’t anything else. . . . not that I could make out, anyway."
Pacey was staring at her incredulously. "You’re sure he said that?"
Janet shook her head. "It sounded like that. . . I can’t be sure. The faucet was running and. . ." She let it go at that.
"You can’t remember hearing anything else?"
"No. . . . sorry."
Pacey stood up and walked slowly over to the door. After pausing for a while he turned and came back, halting to stand staring down in front of her. "Look, I don’t think you realize what you’ve got yourself into," he said, injecting an ominous note into his voice. She looked up at him fearfully. "Listen hard to this. It is absolutely imperative that you tell nobody else about this. Understand? Nobody! If you’re going to start being sensible, the time is right now. You must not let one word of what you’ve told me go a step further." She shook her head mutely. "I want your word on that," he told her.
She nodded, then after a second or two asked, "Does that mean I can’t see Niels?"
Pacey bit his lip. The chance to learn more was tempting, but could he trust her? He thought for a few seconds, then replied, "If you can keep your mouth shut about what you heard and what you’ve said. And if anything else unusual happens, let me know. Don’t go playing at spies and looking for trouble. Just keep your eyes and ears open, and if you see or hear anything strange, let me know and nobody else. And don’t write anything down. Okay?"
She nodded again and tried to grin, but it didn’t work. "Okay," she said.
Pacey looked at her for a moment longer, then spread his arms to indicate that he was through. "I guess that’s it for now. Excuse me, but I’ve got things waiting to get done."
Janet got up and walked quickly to the door. She was just about to close it behind her when Pacey called, "And Janet . . ." She stopped and looked back. "For Christ’s sake try to get to work on time and stay out of the hair of that Russian professor of yours."
"I will." She managed a quick smile, and left.
Pacey had noted for some time that, like himself, Sobroskin seemed excluded from the clique that revolved around Sverenssen, and he had come to believe increasingly that the Russian was playing a lone game on behalf of Moscow and merely finding the UN policy expedient. If so, Sobroskin would not be a party to whatever information Janet had caught a snippet of. Unwilling to break radio silence on Thurien-related matters with Earth, he decided to risk playing his hunch and arranged to meet the Russian later that evening in a storage room that formed part of a rarely frequented section of the base.
"Obviously I can’t be sure, but it could be the Shapieron," Pacey said. "There seem to be two groups of Thuriens who aren’t exactly on open terms with each other. We’ve been talking to one group, who appear to have the best interests of the ship at heart, but how do we know that other people back here haven’t been talking to the other group? And how do we know that the other group feels the same way?"
Sobroskin had been listening attentively. "You’re referring to the coded signals," he said. As expected, everybody had denied having anything to do with them.
"Yes," Pacey answered. "We assumed it was you because we know damn well it isn’t us. But I’m willing to concede that we might have been wrong about them. Suppose the UN has set up this whole thing at Bruno for appearance’s sake while it plays some other game behind the scenes. They could be stalling both of us while all the time they’re talking behind our backs to. . . I don’t know, maybe one Thurien side, maybe the other, or maybe even both."
"What kind of game?" Sobroskin asked. He was obviously fishing for ideas, probably through having few of his own to offer just then.
"Who knows? But what I’m worried about is that ship. If I’m wrong about it I’m wrong, but we can’t just do nothing and hope so. If there’s reason to suppose that it might be in danger, we have to let the Thuriens know. They might be able to do something." He had thought for a long time about risking a call to Alaska, but in the end decided against it.
Sobroskin thought deeply for a while. He knew that the coded signals were coming in in response to the Soviet transmissions, but there was no reason to say so. Yet another oddity had come to light concerning the Swede, and Sobroskin was anxious to follow it through. Moscow wished for nothing other than good relations with the Thuriens, and there was nothing to be lost by cooperating in warning them by whatever means Pacey had in mind. If the American’s fears proved groundless, no permanent harm would result that Sobroskin could see. Either way, there was no time to consult with the Kremlin. "I respect your confidence," he said at last, and meant it, as Pacey could see he did. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want to use the Bruno transmitter to send a signal," Pacey replied. "Obviously it can’t go through the delegation, so we’d have to go to Malliusk directly to take care of the technical side. He’s a pain, but I think we could trust him. He wouldn’t respond to an approach from me alone, but he might from you."
Sobroskin’s eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise. "Why did you not go to the American girl?"
"I thought of it, but I’m not convinced she’s reliable enough. She’s too close to Sverenssen."
Sobroskin thought for a moment longer, then nodded. "Give me an hour. I’ll call you in your room then, whatever the news." He sucked his teeth pensively as if weighing up something in his mind and then added, "I would suggest taking things easy with the girl. I have reports on Sverenssen. He can be dangerous."
They met Malliusk in the main-dish control room after the evening shift was over and while the astronomers booked for the night were away having coffee. Malliusk agreed to their request only after Sobroskin had consented to sign a disclaimer stating that the action was requested by him, acting in his official capacity as a representative of the Soviet Government. Malliusk locked the statement among his private papers. He then closed the control room doors and used the main screen of the supervisory console to compose and transmit the message that Pacey dictated. Neither of the Russians could understand why Pacey insisted on appending his own name to the transmission. There were some things that he was not prepared to divulge.