Echo by Jack McDevitt Page B

been in his office.”
    Nobody could assign a probable source for the tablet. “Yes,” said Bryce, who was tall and gangly, with arms and legs too long for his body, and a tendency to frame each phrase as though we should be taking notes, “they do vaguely resemble Late Korbanic. No question. But look at these characters here—”
    Audree called the same day we talked to Bryce. When she appeared in the middle of the conference room, we knew immediately that she wasn’t bringing good news. “Guys,” she said, “I’d say you were right not to believe your sources. There’s no sign of the tablet anywhere in the Trafalgar area.”
    “Could you have missed it?”
    “Sure. It’s possible. There was a pretty bad storm just before we started the search. It might have stirred up the mud a bit. And in any case, there are a lot of rocks down there. Still, if I were betting—”
    “You’d say it’s not there.”
    “That’s what I’d say. You want me to go back and look some more? I can do it, but we’ll have to charge.”
    “No. Let it go.”
    “Sorry. Call me if you change your mind.”
     
    When she’d blinked off, Alex grumbled something about idiots dropping things in rivers, and asked Jacob to show him the family trees of Ara and Doug Bannister.
    “What has that to do with anything?” I asked.
    “You remember who originally wanted the tablet?”
    “Doug’s aunt.”
    “Maybe. Ara said ‘our aunt.’ Let’s see who that might include.”
    There were two aunts on Doug’s side, three on Ara’s. Jacob ran a search on all five women. One was married to an archeologist. But the guy’s specialty was early Rimway settlers. No likely connection there. Three more gave us nothing of significance. But the fifth was a different story.
    Her name was Rachel Bannister. She was a retired interstellar pilot. And she’d had an association at one time with Sunset Tuttle.
    “What kind of association?” Alex asked.
    “I’m still searching.”
    Alex looked satisfied. “I’m beginning to think they lied to us.”
    “They didn’t throw the tablet into the river?”
    “Exactly. What else do we have, Jacob?”
    “Her hobbies are listed as gardening and rimrod.” Rimrod was a card game quite popular at the turn of the century. “She’s something of an amateur musician. And she’s also affiliated with the Trent Foundation.”
    “As a volunteer?”
    “Yes. According to this, she spends several hours a week tutoring girls who are having problems in school. As a matter of fact, she’s worked with a number of charitable organizations in Andiquar.”
    “Been doing that a long time?”
    “Thirty years or so.”
    “Sounds like a pretty good woman,” I said.
    “She worked for World’s End Tours for four years, until 1403. Resigned in the spring of 1403. And here’s the Tuttle connection.”
    “Don’t tell me,” Alex said. “She used to be his girlfriend.”
    “You hit it on the head, Alex.”
    “That might explain,” I said, “why she wanted the tablet.”
    “Sentimental attachment?”
    “Yes.”
    He looked skeptical. “Chase, the guy’s been dead over a quarter century.”
    “Doesn’t matter, Alex. People fall in love, they tend to stay that way.”
    “Twenty-five years after he’s gone to a better world?”
    I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know that?”
    “I don’t buy it,” he said.
    It was clear enough to me. “But,” I added, “it doesn’t explain why she’d get rid of it.”
    “No.” Alex shook his head. “She didn’t get rid of it. She still has it.” He looked up at the time. “Jacob?”
    “Yes, Alex?”
    “See if you can connect with Doug Bannister.”
     
    It took a few minutes. But eventually Bannister’s thin voice came through. “Hello?” We didn’t have a visual.
    “Doug, this is Alex Benedict.”
    “Who?”
    “Alex Benedict. I spoke with you a few days ago about the tablet. After the game.”
    “The tablet?”
    “The rock