That would take hours, and it might still prove nothing. Duncan scanned the list again, looking for
clues and finding none. The sequence 101000 might mean ERASE. He could speculate forever, and get
nowhere.
There was no # or EXECUTE sign at the end of the sequences, but that proved nothing at all, for few
people bothered to write down anything so obvious; nine times out of ten, it was omitted as understood.
Yet one of the standard ways of canceling a secret ERASE order was to hit EXECUTE twice in quick
succession. Another was to do so with a definite interval between the two keyings. Did Karl's omission have any significance, or was he merely following the usual convention?
The problem contained its own solution, though emotion rather than intelligence pointed the way to it.
Duncan could see no flaw, so he explored every possibility that he could imagine. Then, feeling a faint trace of guilt, he tapped out G/T 101000 YNDILAC, pausing for a fraction of a second before he completed the sequence with #.
If he was wrong, Calindy would never know what she had lost. And though Karl's last message to her
might have been erased, none of the other stored memories would be placed in hazard.
He fears were groundless. Duncan heard only the opening words — "Hello, Calindy, when you hear
this, I shall be..." before he hit the STOP key and the Minisec became silent again. He was after bigger game. Perhaps one day, when he had the time — no, that was a temptation he would be strong enough to
resist...
And so, in the secluded luxury of the Centennial Hotel, with a DO NOT DISTURB block on all visitors
and incoming messages, Duncan keyed G/T 101000 SUGRA #. For two days he canceled his appointments,
and had all meals sent up to his room. Occasionally, he made an outgoing call to check upon some
technical point, but most of the time he was alone, communing with the dead.
Finally he was ready to meet the Argus Committee again, on his own terms. He understood
everything — except, of course, the greatest mystery of all. How delighted Karl would have been if he
had ever known about Golden Reef...
*
*
*
*
*
The room had not changed, and perhaps the invisible audience was the same. But there was now no
trace of the slightly uncertain Duncan Makenzie who, only a few days ago, had wondered if he should opt for diplomatic immunity.
They had accepted, without any dispute, his explanation of the word "Argus," though he did not imagine they were much impressed by his suddenly acquired knowledge of classical mythology. He
could tell from the brief questioning that there was a certain disappointment; perhaps the Committee
would have to find some other justification for its existence. (Was there really an organized underground movement on Terra, or was it merely a joke? This was hardly the right time to ask, though Duncan was
tempted.)
Yet, ironically, there was a small conspiracy, in this very room — a conspiracy mutually agreed upon.
The Committee had guessed that he now appreciated the significance of the name Argus to Terran
security — and he knew that it knew. Each side understood the other perfectly, and the next item of
business was quickly adopted.
"So what's Mr. Helmer's Argus?" asked the woman whom Duncan had tentatively placed up on the Moon. "And can you account for his odd behavior?"
Duncan opened the stained notebook to display that astonishing full-page sketch which had so
transfixed him as its first revelation. Even now that he knew its true scale, he could not think of it as anything except a drawing of a sea urchin. But Diadema was only thirty or forty centimeters across;
Argus would be at least a thousand kilometers in diameter, if Karl's analysis was right. And of that,
Duncan no longer had any doubt, though he could never give his full reasons.
"Karl Helmer had a vision," he began. "I'll try to pass it on as best I can, though this is not my field of knowledge. But I knew his psychology, and perhaps I can make you understand what he was trying to
do."
You may be disappointed again, he told himself — you may dismiss the whole concept as a crazy
scientist's delusion. But you'll be wrong; this could be infinitely more important that some trivial
conspiracy threatening your tidy little world...
"Karl was a scientist, who always hoped to make some great discovery — but never did. Though he
was highly imaginative, even his wildest flights were always soundly based on reality. And he was
ambitious..."
"If it were so," murmured a quiet voice from the air beside him, "it was a grievous fault. And grievously hath Caesar answered it. Sorry — please continue."
The reference was unfamiliar to Duncan, and he showed his annoyance at the interruption by pausing
for a few seconds.
"He was interested in everything — too many things, perhaps — but his great passion was the still unsolved CETI problem — communications with extraterrestrial intelligence. We used to argue about it for hours when we were boys; I could never be quite sure when he was completely serious, but I am now."