Duncan did not press the point. Presumably, it might cause embarrassment if some of the voices involved were recognized by outsiders. In any case, a transcript would be perfectly acceptable; he could trust his memory to spot errors or deletions.
“Well, that’s fine,” said Mr. Smith, obviously relieved. “Let’s get started.”
Simultaneously, something odd happened to the room. Its acoustics changed abruptly; it was as if it had suddenly become much larger. There was not the slightest visible alteration, but Duncan had the uncanny feeling of unseen presences all around him. He would never
know if they were actually in Washington or on the far side of the Earth, and it gave him an uncomfortable, naked sensation to be surrounded by invisible listeners-and watchers.
A moment later, a voice spoke quietly from the air immediately in front of him.
“Good morning, Mr. Makenzie. It’s good of you to spare us your time, and please excuse our reticence. If you think this is some kind of twentieth-century spy melodrama, our apologies. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, these precautions are totally unnecessary. But we can never tell which occasion will be the hundredth.”
It was a friendly, powerful voice, very deep and resonant, yet there was something slightly unnatural about it. A computer? Duncan asked himself.
That was too easy an assumption; in any case, there was no way of distinguishing between computer vocalization and human speech-especially now that a realistic number of “ers,” “wells,” incomplete sentences, and downright grammatical errors could be incorporated to make the nonelectronic participants in a conversation feel at ease. He guessed that he was listening to a, man talking through a speech-disguising circuit.
While Duncan was still trying to decide if any answer was necessary, another speaker took over. This time, the voice emerged about half a meter from his left ear.
“It’s only fair to reassure you on one point, Mr. Makenzie. As far as we can ascertain, no Terran laws have been broken. We are not here to investigate a _crime—only to solve a mystery, to explain a tragedy. If any
Titanian regulations are involved, that is your problem-not ours. I hope you understand. ““Yes Duncan replied. “I assumed that was the case, but I’m glad to have your confirmation.”
This was indeed a relief, but he knew better than to relax. Perhaps this statement was exactly what it seemed to be-a friendly plea for cooperation. But it might also be a trap.
Now a woman’s voice came from immediately be hind him, and he had to resist the impulse to swing around and look at the speaker. Was this
quite unnecessary shifting of sound focus a deliberate at tempt to disorient him? How naieve did they take him to be?
“To save us all time, let me explain that we have a complete summary of Mr.
Helmer’s background.” And mine, thought Duncan. “Your government has been most helpful, but you may have information which is unknown to us, since you were one of his closest friends.”
Duncan nodded, without bothering to speak. They would know all about that friendship, and its ending.
As if responding to some hidden signal, Mr. Smith opened his briefcase and carefully laid a small object on the table.
“You’ll recognize this, of course,” the female voice continued. “The Helmer family has asked that it be handed over to you for safe custody, with the other property of the deceased.”
The sight of Karl’s Minisec-virtually the same model as his own-was in itself such a shock that at first the remainder of the message failed to get through. Then Duncan reacted with a start and said: “Would you please repeat that?”
There was such a surprisingly long delay that he wondered if the speaker was on the Moon; during the course of the session, Duncan became almost certain of it. With all the other interrogators, there was a quick give-and-take, but with the lone woman there was always this invariable time-lag.
“The Helmers have asked that you be custodian of their son’s effects, until disposition is settled.”
It was a gesture of peace, across the grave of all their hopes, and Duncan felt his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He looked at the handful of microelectronics on the table and felt a deep reluctance even to touch it.
There were all Karl’s secrets. Would the Helmers have asked him to accept this if they had anything to hide? But there was a great deal, Duncan was certain, that Karl had concealed from his own family; there would be much in the Minisec that only he had ever known. True, it would be guarded by carefully chosen code words, some of them possibly
linked with ERASE circuits to prevent unauthorized intrusion. “Naturally,” continued the voice from the Moon (if it was from the Moon), 66we are interested in what may be in this Minisec. In particular, we would like any list of contacts on Earth-addresses or personal numbers.”
