“Yes, I know him.”
“He followed procedure. He always follows procedure. He never misses a lick. He always does what he’s supposed to do. I’ve worked with him for years; I’d trust him with my life.”
Tennyson waited and in a few moments Ecuyer resumed. “When a new cube comes in, I deliver it to Ezra and he puts it in a safe. After I have viewed it, it may go to Vatican, and when it comes back from them, it is filed in one of the cabinets. Often a cube does not go to Vatican immediately, or may not go at all if we judge it would have no particular interest, in which case it also is filed in a cabinet. Ezra has a system all his own. I don’t know what it is; maybe no more than his memory. We have thousands of cubes; ask him for one and he can lay his hands on it instantly. He never falters. He goes straight to it. So far as I know, there is no actual filing system as such, but somehow or other Ezra can find anything you ask for. There’s a measure of security, of course, in such an arrangement.”
Tennyson nodded. “Ezra is the only one who knows.”
“That’s right. There are a few cubes, a few special ones, I can come up with without help from Ezra, but not many.”
“But until you view a new cube, it stays in a safe. The Heaven cube wasn’t in the safe—is that what you’re telling me?”
“Jason, that’s what I am telling you. Ezra opened the safe and it wasn’t there. There were three other cubes, but not the Heaven cube. Three that I hadn’t got around to viewing—”
“One of them labeled wrong?”
“No. To be certain, I viewed the three of them. None of them the Heaven cube. Stuff that came in just recently.”
“Paul, who else could open that safe?”
“No one. Not me, not anyone but Ezra.”
“All right. So Ezra …”
“Impossible,” said Ecuyer. “That repository is Ezra’s life. His whole existence centers on the Search Program. Without it, he’d be nothing. He’d be empty. I’d trust him further than I would trust myself. He’s tied even more closely to the program than I am. He’s been with it longer. He was assigned to it when it first started, centuries ago.”
“But if someone in Vatican …”
“Not a chance. Not even the Pope. Ezra’s loyalty belongs to Search, not to Vatican.”
“Then someone must have learned the combination. Would that be possible?”
“I suppose so. An outside chance. An extremely outside chance.”
“The cube couldn’t have been mislaid?”
“No. Ezra put it in the safe. I stood by and watched him put it in and lock the door.”
“Paul, what do you think?”
“God, Jason, I don’t know. Someone stole the cube.”
“Because they didn’t want it viewed?”
“I would suppose so. There’s this theological faction in Vatican. The ones who advocate canonizing Mary—”
“The ones who’d like to get rid of Search. Who’d like to discredit you.”
“I can’t be sure of that,” said Ecuyer, “but I assume they would—if they had a chance, that is.”
The two men sat in silence for a moment. The new log Tennyson had thrown on the fire was blazing now, crackling as it burned. Dawn light had flooded the room.
“That’s not all of it,” said Ecuyer. “I haven’t told you all of it.”
“What else is there to tell?”
“The first cube, the first Heaven cube, is gone as well. It also has disappeared.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
The whisper went into Vatican, across all of End of Nothing.
Mary has performed a miracle. She has cured Jill of the stigma. She put her hand on Jill’s cheek and the stigma went away.…
The nurse said she’d seen it happen. Mary had asked Jill to bend over so she could reach out and touch her. As soon as Mary touched her cheek, the ugly blemish had been no more. Her cheek no longer bore the mark.
A miracle! A miracle!! A MIRACLE!!!
There could be no question of it. The few who caught a glimpse of Jill cried out the miracle, bore fervent testimony that the shameful mark was gone.
After a few people had cried out the miracle, Jill fled.
A worried band of cardinals carried the word to His Holiness, and His Holiness, not entirely happy with all their foolishness, clucked and made other derogatory noises, counseling the cardinals to assume a more skeptical attitude until more evidence was in. When one cardinal suggested that an ecclesiastical judiciary inquiry aimed at determining the advisability of beatification be convened, the Pope said it was much too early for such steps. His Holiness, somewhat upset, was essentially noncommittal, keeping his options open.
A general holiday, automatically, almost instinctively, was declared. Workers on the farms, the gardens, and the orchards dropped their tools and joined in a haphazard processional, heading for Vatican. Woodcutters came scurrying in from the forests. Many monks and other Vatican workers streamed out to join the happy throng. Vatican guards had their work cut out to prevent the mob from an indiscriminate invasion of Vatican. In the vast basilica, humans and robots fought for kneeling room to pray. At first the bells were silent, but, finally, in an attempt to placate the crowd, which had been shrieking against Vatican’s apparent indifference to the self-evident miracle, pealed out and all the world was happy.
Knots of people gathered around the clinic, chanting for Mary, invading the little garden, trampling the shrubbery and the flowers. Guards held back the assemblage that continued to grow larger by the minute.
Mary, wakening, heard the chanting—“Mary! Mary! Mary!”—and managed to sit up in bed, amazed that many voices should be calling out her name. The nurse was not in the room; she had stepped into another room where, leaning out the window, she could see to better advantage what was going on.
Mary, summoning all her strength, slid out of bed, holding onto a chair to pull herself erect. She tottered to the door and, leaning against the wall for support, made her way down the corridor to where the great front door stood open to let in fresh air and coolness.
The crowd caught sight of her as she came out the door, clinging to it with one hand to keep from falling. A hush fell on all those who were gathered there, all eyes turned to take in the frailty and unquestioned holiness of the woman who stood there in the door.
She raised her hand to them, fist clenched, one finger extended, shaking that one finger in their collective faces. Her voice was thin and reedy, a quavering screech, and it carried far in the awe-struck silence.
“Naughty!” she shrilled at them. “Naughty! Naughty! Naughty!”
Chapter Forty
“It doesn’t look as if anyone’s at home,” Tennyson told Ecuyer.
“How can you tell?”
“No smoke from the chimney.”
“That doesn’t prove a thing.”
“Perhaps not. But Decker always has a fire. Sometimes, perhaps, not a large fire, but something burning so he only has to put on some wood to start it up. I’ve never seen the shack when there wasn’t some smoke coming from the chimney.”
“Well, we’ll soon know,” said Ecuyer.
They continued climbing the hill. Decker’s beat-up vehicle was parked to one side of the shack. A neatly stacked rank of firewood stood between two trees, the trees serving as a crib for the wood. Off to one side was the garden, with its straight green rows of vegetables and one corner of it a riot of blooming flowers.
“It’s not a bad place,” said Ecuyer. “I have never been here.”
“You’ve never met Tom?”
“No. He’s not an easy man to meet. He makes himself somewhat unavailable. Do you think he’ll talk with us?”
“Sure, he’ll talk with us. He’s not a savage or a boor; he’s a civilized, educated man.”
“Exactly what did he say about knowing where Heaven is?”
“He only said it once, that he thought he might know where Heaven was. He made no further mention of it and I never pushe
d him. I was afraid to, afraid he might shy off. I let him take his time.”
“Maybe he will tell us now. If we explain to him how important it is. With the cubes gone, there is no chance at all of coming up with the coordinates we need. Maybe even with the cubes, there was not too great a chance, but now there is none at all. And now I agree with you. We damn well need those coordinates. Someone has to go to Heaven.”
“I keep hoping,” said Tennyson, “that Tom may really know. I can’t be sure any longer. At one time I was fairly sure he knew, but now that we’re down to the crunch, I’m not quite as sure as I was to start with. He did tell me his ship ran into trouble and he got away in a lifeboat. That’s how he got here. The boat brought him here.”
They came up to the shack and Tennyson knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again. “He might be sleeping in there,” he said.
“It’s unlikely,” said Ecuyer. “He’d hear you. Let’s take a look around.”
They took a look around. They shouted for Decker and Decker did not answer. They went back to the shack. This time Ecuyer pounded on the door. After they had waited for a time, Ecuyer asked, “Do you think we should go in?”
“Yes, let’s do that. I doubt that Decker would mind. The man has nothing to hide.”
Ecuyer lifted the latch and the door opened. Inside they stood for a moment to become accustomed to the dimness.
The place was neat. Everything was picked up and put away.
Tennyson looked around. “His rifle is gone,” he said. “It hung over there on the wall beside the fireplace. His knapsack and sleeping bag were stored on the shelf above the table. They’re gone, too. More than likely he is en one of his rock-hunting trips.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Probably the time would vary. He asked me to come along on one of the trips. When you can spare a few days, he said—as if we’d be gone only a few days. I would think he’d be back soon.”
“Jason, it is important that we know as soon as we can. We can’t allow the theological faction to get too much of a jump on us. If we could leak the word there was a good possibility of going out to have a look at Heaven, they’d back off.”
“You’re really afraid of them, aren’t you, Paul?”
“If they get well entrenched, they’ll eliminate the Search Program. That’s what they’ve wanted to do all along. Either eliminate us or dictate the kind of work we do or, worse yet, control the interpretation of what we find. I’m not worried about myself, you understand. They’d do me no harm. I could stay on and be taken care of. They might even let me piddle around with the program a little, enough so I could tell myself I was doing something. But the program, as such, would be eviscerated. And I can’t let that happen. It’s the soul of Vatican, I tell you. Sure, let them mess around with their theological doings if they want to, but the real work stems from the Search Program.”
“You must have some support in Vatican.”
“Some, I think. I don’t know how much. Some of the cardinals. A few others I can be sure of.”
“His Holiness?”
“No one can ever depend on the Pope. He is a cold, mechanistic mind. You never know what he is thinking. He is so clogged with all the material that our Listeners have fed into him that, despite his great capability, he can’t have much time to consider present policies. Besides, I would guess that sometimes he gets confused. His job, after all, is not to guide Vatican at the moment. His is the long-range job of what Vatican should be in the far future.”
“It would seem to me,” said Tennyson, “that Vatican can’t get along without the Listeners. I’ve heard all sorts of hints as to what it’s gained from your observations. The thought-ships, for one thing. What else do they have?”
“I’m not sure I know everything they have. But they have a lot. You know about their cloning. But it’s more than cloning. They don’t need a cell as a starter. They can start from scratch, build a DNA pattern and go on from there. Artificial life. Engineered life, of any kind at all. And time travel. Hell, they have something better than time travel. They employ neutrinos—although they’re not actually sure what they are using are neutrinos, they may be something else. But with their aid, using them, whatever they may be, they are on the verge of being able to travel a number of directions in time—not only past and future, but other directions as well. You’re surprised to learn there are other directions. Well, so was I. I’m not sure I understand it. They can hunt down past and future, or will be able to as soon as they have the technology well developed, and they also will be able to go to conditions other than past or future. Maybe alternate worlds and universes. I don’t know. It’s all too deep for me. But whatever they have, it is the key to time travel, dimensional travel, probably other things. These two examples give you some idea of what they have.”
“Having all of this, they would give it up?”
“Not all of them. Not willingly. The theological party is a different matter. Some of them honestly feel Vatican has lost sight of, or betrayed, its original purpose. The others, which are the most of them, are scared. The universe has proved bigger than they thought. It has in it many more and stranger conditions and situations than they had ever dreamed. They are overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what the Listeners are finding. The universe is so vast, the possibilities so mind-boggling, that they’re beginning to feel naked. They’re looking for a place to hide.”
“We could run a bluff,” suggested Tennyson. “Float a rumor that we have found a way to get to Heaven. They don’t want anyone going to Heaven. If someone went there and found it wasn’t Heaven, that would jerk the rug out from under them. Such a rumor would at least slow them up for a while, give us time.”
Ecuyer said, “No, we can’t do that. If we ran a bluff and they called us, that would strengthen them, would make them more sure of themselves than ever. If, and when, we make our move, we must be fairly confident we can follow through.”
“Yes,” said Tennyson. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“Jason, when Decker told you he was sure, or fairly sure, that he knew where Heaven is, did you get the feeling that he might have some documentation, that he wasn’t only speaking from memory?”
“You mean like a log book?”
“Yes, that’s the sort of thing I was thinking of. Ships carry flight recorders, don’t they? He ran into trouble out in space. Could he have taken the flight recorder before he got into the lifeboat?”
“To tell you the truth,” said Tennyson, “I did get that impression. I thought that he might have documentation more solid than memory alone. But he never said so. He gave me no reason to think so. I don’t know why I did. I did have the impression at the time, but now I’m not sure at all.”
“Do you think we might …” Ecuyer did not finish his sentence and Tennyson hesitated before he answered.
Finally he said, “It would go against my grain. Decker’s my friend and he trusted me.”
“But, Jason, we have to know! I have to know!”
“All right, then,” said Tennyson. “You’re probably right. Let’s get to work. But neat, Paul. Everything goes back exactly where it was.”
They got to work. Tennyson noted that the gem carvings Whisperer had done were no longer on the table in the corner; later he found them packed in a small box on one of the shelves. Decker apparently had put them away before he left.
They found nothing they had been looking for.
“Maybe he has it stashed away somewhere ouside the cabin,” said Ecuyer.
“If he has anything, that is,” said Tennyson. “If he has it and has it hidden somewhere, we’re not going to find it.”
He thought to himself that Whisperer might know.
“There’s one other possibility,” he said.
“What is that?”
Tennyson shrugged. “I guess not. Forget it.”
He had not mentioned Whisperer to Ecuyer and he had no intention of doing so. Tha
nk the Lord, he had caught himself in time.
There was, or had been, another possibility so far as Whisperer was concerned, and that, he told himself, now was gone as well. In the back of his mind it had occurred to him that if Whisperer could take him to the equation world, he could take him to Heaven, too. But that was now impossible. Whisperer would have nothing to work with because he, Tennyson, had viewed neither of the Heaven cubes.
Jill was the only one other than himself and Decker who knew of Whisperer and that, he told himself, was the way that it would stay.
So it finally came down to Decker; Decker was their only hope. When Decker came back from his trip, he might be able to help them. If he couldn’t, if what he knew was not definitive enough, then Vatican’s last chance was gone. The Search Program would be abolished, or, at best, restricted, and Vatican would become what it had first intended itself to be—a blind fumbling after the will-o’-the-wisp of spirituality.
Whisperer, he thought, probably was with Decker, and so he would have to wait for their return before he could know what hope might still remain.
They left the shack and closed the door behind them, making sure the latch was firmly in place. On top of the hill, they stood together and looked out over Vatican. In the harsh light of forenoon, the buildings stood out white and stark against the background of woodland and the foothills of the lofty mountains.
As they stood there, looking at the clumped buildings in the distance, a faint tolling sound came to them.
“It’s bells,” said Ecuyer. “Why are they ringing bells? This is not the time of day to ring them. Only at certain times of day. And there are too many.…”
A shift in the wind carried the full-toned sound to them, the full-tongued pealing of great bells.
“Those are the big basilica bells,” Ecuyer exclaimed. “What the hell is going on?”
Hurriedly the two of them went down the hill.
Chapter Forty-one
She had never been so humiliated in all her life, Jill told herself—nor so angry. What was the matter with these people? Whatever had possessed that silly nurse to say what she had said?