Cradle

by Arthur C. Clarke

  ‘It would be great if we could sit around and debate this issue for weeks or even months. But we can’t. Time is running out. The Navy is certain to find them soon, maybe they have already, with possibly dire consequences for the human beings on this planet. They have made it clear to me that their mission must be fulfilled, that they must repair their vehicle and continue their voyage, even if they must interfere with the Earth system to achieve their goal.

  ‘I know all this sounds incredible, maybe even absurd. But I am going to collect some lead weights from my diver friends and pick up the compact discs at the library. With or without your help, I want to be over their spaceship at dawn tomorrow.’

  Nick studied Troy very carefully during this speech. For an instant in the middle, it seemed as if it was not Troy speaking at all, but someone or something else speaking through him. An eerie chill raced down Nick’s spine. Shit, he thought. I’m as bad as they are. I’m now caught up in this thing too. He gestured to Carol to follow him and walked out of the door.

  7

  ‘As I have told you twice before,’ the voice sounded tired and bored, ‘I was out diving with my friends, Nick Williams and Carol Dawson. She had a problem with her equipment and decided to make a quick return to the boat. We had found a particularly interesting reef, with some very unusual features, and we weren’t certain we would be able to locate it again. So I decided to stay and wait for her to come back. When I finally surfaced half an hour later, there was no sign of them or the boat.’

  The recorder clicked off. The two lieutenants stared at each other. ‘Shit, Ramirez, do you believe that bastard’s story? Any part of it?’ The other man shook his head. ‘Then why the hell did you let him go? That black shitass sat there for an hour, making fools out of us with ridiculous answers to our questions, and then you summarily released him.’

  ‘We can’t detain someone without positive evidence of wrongdoing,’ responded Ramirez, as if he were quoting from a military manual. ‘And swimming in the ocean ten miles from the nearest island, although strange, does not constitute wrongdoing.’ Ramirez could see that his colleague was scowling. ‘Besides, he never slipped up. He always told exactly the same story.’

  ‘The same bullshit, you mean.’ Lieutenant Richard Todd leaned back in his chair. The two men were sitting around a small conference table in an old room with white plaster walls. The tape recorder was on the table in front of them next to an empty ashtray. ‘He didn’t even believe his own story. He just sat there, that cocky grin on his black face, knowing that we couldn’t charge him with anything.’ Todd put all four of his chair legs back on the floor and pounded the table for emphasis. ‘An experienced diver would never stay down by himself for five minutes, much less thirty. Too many things could go wrong. As for his friends, why the hell did they leave him?’ Now Todd stood up and made gestures in the air with his hands. ‘I’ll tell you why, Lieutenant. Because they knew he was all right, that he had been picked up by a Russian submarine. Shit, I told you we should have taken one of the new vessels. We probably could have spotted the sub with the upgraded electronic gear.’

  Ramirez was playing idly with the glass ashtray while Todd was giving his lecture. ‘You really believe that those three are involved with the Russians in this, don’t you? It sure seems farfetched to me.’

  ‘Fucking A,’ replied Todd. ‘Nothing else makes even a little sense. Every engineer we have talked to says there are no conceivable failures that are consistent both with the observed behaviour of the missile and the telemetry we received at our tracking stations. So the Russians must have commanded it off course.’

  Todd grew excited as he explained the rest of the plot. ‘The Russians knew they would need some local help to find the exact location of the missile in the ocean, so they hired Williams and crew to search for the bird and then tell them where it was. They planned to pick it up with one of their subs. Adding that Dawson woman to their team was a master stroke; her inquiries have slowed down our own search by making us more concerned about the press.’

  Lieutenant Ramirez laughed. ‘You always sound convincing, Richard. But we still do not have even one shred of evidence. I don’t believe Troy Jefferson’s story any more than you do, but there could be many reasons why he lied, only one of which is any of our business. Besides, there still is a fundamental problem with your explanation. Why would the Russians go to all this trouble just to seize a Panther missile?’

  ‘You and I and even Commander Winters may not know the true story of the Panther missile,’ Todd countered quickly. ‘It may be designed to carry some new breakthrough weapon that we haven’t even heard about. It’s not all that unusual for the Navy to represent a project falsely and to keep its true purpose hidden.’ He stopped to think. ‘But what’s motivating the Russians is not that important to us. We have evidence of a conspiracy here. Our job is to stop it.’

  Ramirez did not reply right away. He continued to push the ashtray around on the table. ‘I guess I no longer view it that way,’ he said at length, gazing directly at Todd. ‘I see no substantial evidence of any conspiracy. Unless Commander Winters himself orders additional work from my department, I am abandoning my investigation.’ He looked at his watch. ‘At least I can still spend Saturday night and Sunday with my family.’ He rose to leave.

  ‘And what if I bring you proof?’ Todd asked, making no effort to hide his disgust with Ramirez.

  ‘Proof will convince Winters as well,’ Ramirez answered coldly. ‘I have taken enough risk on this project. I will not take any more action unless instructed by the proper authority.’

  Winters wasn’t really certain he would find something appropriate. Ordinarily, he carefully avoided shopping malls, especially on a Saturday afternoon. But while he had been lying on the couch, watching one of the NCAA basketball games and sipping a beer, he had remembered how pleased he had been when Helen Turnbull, who had played Maggie, had given him a set of unusual tile coasters after the opening weekend of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. ‘It’s a fading tradition in the theatre, I fear,’ the experienced actress had said when he thanked her, ‘but giving small presents after the opening night or nights is still my way of congratulating those people I have enjoyed working with.’

  The mall was crowded with Saturday shoppers and Commander Winters felt oddly conspicuous, as if everyone were looking at him. He walked around for several minutes before he even thought about what kind of gift he might get for her. Something simple of course, he thought. Nothing that could be misinterpreted. Just a nice memento or souvenir. He saw Tiffani in his mind’s eye as she had appeared in his fantasy just before he had fallen asleep the night before. The image embarrassed him in the shopping crowd and he nervously called up another picture, this one wholesome and acceptable, of the little girl Tiffani during his conversation with her father. Her hair, he thought, remembering the pigtails. I’ll buy her something for her hair.

  He walked into a gift shop and tried to make some sense out of the jumble of bric-a-brac that lined the walls and was assembled on top of an assortment of tables in no identifiable pattern. ‘Can I help you?’ Winters jumped when a salesgirl approached him from behind. He shook his head. Now why did you do that? he said to himself. Of course you need help. Otherwise you’ll never find anything.

  ‘Excuse me, young lady,’ he almost shouted at the retreating salesgirl, ‘I guess I could use some advice. I want to buy a present.’ Winters again felt as if everyone were watching him. ‘For my niece,’ he added quickly.

  The salesgirl was a brunette, about twenty, very plain, but with an eager face. ‘Did you have anything in mind?’ she asked. Her hair was long, like Tiffani’s. Winters relaxed a little.

  ‘Sort of,’ he said. ‘She has beautiful long hair. Like yours. What could I get her that would be really special? It’s her birthday.’ Again he felt a strange anxiety that he did not understand.

  ‘What colour?’ the girl asked.

  The question didn’t make sense. ‘I don�
�t even know yet what I want,’ he replied with a puzzled expression, ‘so I certainly don’t know the colour.’

  The salesgirl smiled. ‘What colour is your niece’s hair?’ she said very slowly, almost as if she were speaking to someone mentally retarded.

  ‘Oh, of course,’ Winters laughed. ‘Reddish-brown, auburn,’ he said. ‘And it’s very long.’ You said that already, a voice whispered inside of him. You are acting like a fool.

  The salesgirl motioned for him to follow her and they walked back to the rear of the store. She pointed at a small round glass case full of combs of all shapes and sizes. ‘These would make excellent gifts for your niece,’ she said. There was an inflection in her voice when she said the word ‘niece’ that bothered Winters. Could she know something? One of her friends? Or maybe she was at the play? He took a breath and calmed himself. Again Winters was astonished by the volatility of his emotions.

  On one of the small shelves were two beautiful matching brown combs with gold filigree across the top. One of the combs was large enough to hold all that magnificent hair in a chignon against her neck. The other smaller comb was a perfect size to adorn the side or back of her hairstyle. ‘I’ll take those,’ he said to the girl, ‘the ones with the gold work along the top. And please gift-wrap them for me.’

  The efficient salesgirl reached inside the display case and pulled out the combs. She told Winters to wait a couple of minutes while she wrapped the present. She disappeared into the back of the store and Winters was left alone. I’ll leave them on her dressing table at the end of intermission, he was thinking. He conjured up a picture of Tiffani going into the dressing room, by herself, and finding the present under her nameplate against the mirror. Winters smiled as he imagined her reaction. At that moment a woman with her eight- or nine-year-old daughter brushed by him in the store. ‘Pardon me,’ the woman said, without looking around, as she and the little girl rushed to finger some Easter baskets hanging on the wall.

  The salesgirl had finished wrapping the present and was standing next to the computer cash register. When Winters reached the counter, she handed him a small card that had ‘Happy Birthday’ imprinted on the upper left corner. Winters stared at it for a few seconds. ‘No,’ he said finally, ‘no card. I’ll buy another at the stationery store.’

  ‘Cash or charge?’ the girl asked him.

  Winters panicked for a moment. I don’t know if I have enough cash on me, he thought. And how would I ever explain the charge to Betty? He opened his wallet and counted his money. He smiled at the girl and said ‘Cash, please’ when he realized that he had almost fifty dollars. The bill was only thirty-two dollars.

  Commander Winters felt a rush of joy as he nearly skipped out of the store. His earlier nervousness had completely disappeared. He even began to whistle just before he pushed open the door and left the enclosed air-conditioned environment of the mall. I hope she likes the combs, he said to himself. Then he smiled again. I know she will.

  8

  Nick poured the last of the bottle of Chablis into Carol’s glass. ‘I don’t think I could ever be a journalist,’ he said. ‘To be successful it sounds to me as if you have to be a sneak.’

  Carol moved a piece of grilled catfish mixed with some cauliflower on to her fork and put the bite in her mouth. ‘It’s not that much different from any other job. There are always questions of ethics, as well as places where your personal and professional lives come into conflict.’ She finished chewing her food and swallowed before she continued. ‘I had thought that maybe I would tell you and Troy on Friday evening. But things just didn’t work out, as you know.’

  ‘If you had,’ Nick pushed his plate away to indicate that he was finished with his meal, ‘then everything would have been different. I would have been aware of the possible danger and most likely it would have been you and I in that place together. Who knows what might have happened then.’

  ‘I’ve had worse conflicts before.’ Carol took a drink from her glass of wine. She wanted to finish with this subject. In her way. ‘Right after I graduated from Stanford, I worked for the San Francisco Chronicle. I was dating Lucas Tipton a little at the time that the Warrior drug scandal broke. I used the social contacts I had made through him to obtain a unique slant on the story. Lucas never forgave me. So I’m used to problems. They go with the territory.’

  A waiter came by and poured them some coffee. ‘But now that I have finished apologizing, for the third time,’ Carol said pointedly, ‘I hope we can go back to more important matters. I must tell you, Nick, that I find your Russian plot idea absolutely off the wall. The weakest element is Troy. There’s simply no way he could be a spy. It’s preposterous.’

  ‘More preposterous than a super-alien space vehicle in need of repairs at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico?’ Nick countered stubbornly. ‘Besides, I have a definite motive. Money. Did you see all the equipment he has wrapped up in that computer game?’

  ‘Angie probably makes enough off her royalties in one week to cover all that computer stuff,’ Carol replied. She reached across the table and put her hand on Nick’s forearm. ‘Now don’t overreact, but you know there are some relationships where the woman carries the financial load. I can tell that she loves him. There’s no doubt in my mind that she would offer to help him.’

  ‘Then why did he try to borrow money from me and then Captain Homer on Thursday night?’

  ‘Hell, Nick, I don’t know.’ Carol was becoming slightly frustrated. ‘But it’s irrelevant anyway. I can’t imagine any set of conditions, unless I was convinced that I was going to be killed, that would prevent my going back out there with Troy. Whatever the truth is, it is certainly a sensational story. I’m surprised you are so hesitant. I thought you were an adventurer.’

  Carol stared directly across the table at Nick. He thought he saw a flicker of flirtation hiding behind her unwavering gaze. You are one fascinating woman, he thought. And you’re taunting me a little now. I caught your double meaning. He remembered how good he had felt when he held her on the boat in the afternoon. Underneath that aggressive veneer is another person. Beautiful and intelligent. Hard as nails one minute and a vulnerable little girl the next. Nick was certain that any hope he might have of continuing his relationship with Carol was dependent on his helping Troy. She wasn’t interested in men who were not willing to take chances.

  ‘I used to be,’ Nick finally replied. He twirled his empty wine glass in his hand. ‘I don’t know what happened. I guess I got stung a couple of times and that has made me more cautious. Particularly where people are concerned. But I will admit that if I stand back from this situation and imagine myself as simply an observer, I find the whole affair absolutely fascinating.’

  Carol finished her wine and put the glass back on the table. Nick was quiet. She drummed her fingers on the tabletop and smiled. ‘Well,’ she said, fixing him with her eyes and picking up her coffee cup, ‘have you made a decision?’

  He laughed. ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll do it.’ Now it was his turn to reach out and touch her arm. ‘For lots of reasons.’

  ‘Good,’ she remarked. ‘Now that something has been decided, why don’t you help me prepare for my interview with Captain Homer and the crew. How much was the stuff worth that you pulled up from the Santa Rosa? And who was Jake? I must act as if I’m serious about this story.’ Carol put her fountain pen tape recorder on the table and turned it on.

  ‘We officially cleared a little over two million dollars. Jake Lewis and I each received ten percent, Amanda Winchester was reimbursed for the expense advance plus twenty-five percent of the profit. Homer, Ellen, and Greta kept the rest.’ Nick stopped but Carol indicated for him to continue. ‘Jake Lewis was the only close friend I have ever had as an adult. He was an absolute peach of a person, honest, hard-working, intelligent, and loyal. And completely naive. He fell for Greta like a ton of bricks. She manipulated him completely and then used his love to her own advantage.’

  Nick looked away, out the window o
f the small seafood restaurant, at some seagulls who were soaring over the water in the fading twilight. ‘The night we came back with the big haul, Jake and I agreed that one of the two of us would always be awake. Even then there was something peculiar in the Homer-Ellen-Greta triangle. At that time they were not yet all living together, but I still didn’t trust them. While Jake was supposedly on watch, Greta balled his brains out. ‘To celebrate,’ he said, when he apologized to me for falling asleep afterward. When I woke up, more than half of the treasure was gone.’

  Anger long buried was seething in Nick. Carol watched him carefully, noting the intensity of his passion. ‘Jake didn’t give a shit about the money. He even tried to talk Amanda and me out of going to court. That’s the kind of guy he was. I remember he told me, “Hey, Nick my friend, we made two hundred thousand apiece out of this. We cannot prove there was more. Let’s just be thankful and get on with our lives.” Homer had cheated him and Greta had shit all over him, but Jake still wasn’t pissed. Not much more than a year later, he married a water ski queen from Winter Haven, bought a house in Orlando, and went to work as an aerospace engineer.’

  The light was vanishing outside. Nick was deep in a memory, recalling the full measure of his storm of righteous indignation from eight years before. ‘I’ve never understood them,’ Carol said quietly. She switched off the recorder. Nick turned and looked at her, a quizzical frown on his face. ‘You know,’ she added, ‘the people like your friend Jake. Infinite resiliency. No harboured grudges. Whatever happens to them they just shake off, like water, and go on living. Cheerfully.’ It was her turn to feel a little emotion. ‘Sometimes I wish I could be more like that. Then I wouldn’t be afraid.’

  They stared at each other in the soft light. Nick put his hand over hers. And there’s that vulnerable little girl again. He felt a deep emotional longing stirring in his heart. She’s let me see it twice in a single day. ‘Carol,’ he said gently, ‘I want to thank you for this afternoon. You know, for sharing your feelings with me. I feel like I saw an entirely different Carol Dawson.’