Henry Balmer was a short, squat man with a fleshily jowled face, searing eyes set beneath immense eyebrows, hair combed straight back, and a dark, trimmed mustache. As was often the way with small men, he tended to overcompensate with aggressiveness what he lacked in stature. On the rare occasions when he found himself forced onto the defensive, his shoulders hunched protectively, imbuing him in form and manner with the salient attributes of a cannonball. Just at the moment, in Herbert Morch's office at Quantonix, confronted by Herbert and Max, and the project's chief physician, Stewart Perrel, he felt very much on the defensive indeed.
After Herbert Morch's call two days previously he had panicked, entrusting the bemused Sarda to the care of his receptionist, Fay, and deciding suddenly that Mrs. Jescombe was a patient with a critical condition who couldn't be ignored. Since then, he had gone into hiding, keeping away from his office and ignoring Fay's frantic calls, torn between a self-preservation instinct responding to distant places beckoning far from Mars, and a deeply rooted part of his nature that balked at the thought of walking out on any prospect that might remain of netting a quarter of a billion Zodiac Bank-underwritten, offworld, inner-system dollars. However, before he had reconciled his dilemma, a terse note in his mail system from "The Auditor," suggesting pointedly that his longer-term health might benefit from his making himself visible and condescending to communicate again, had induced his eventual appearance at Quantonix. That was where Sarda was, and about the only chance Balmer had of placating certain netherworldly go-betweens who weren't feeling amused just now depended on unlocking information that he hoped still resided somewhere inside Sarda's skull.
"If Leo Sarda has been a client of yours, we should have known about it, Dr. Balmer," Herbert said, looking disgruntled and not a little suspicious. "He's key in our main project here. You say he's been disturbed for some time. Then possibly that's the reason for the condition we're seeing now. But the project is being blamed. The market value of our whole program has collapsed to nothing."
Balmer forced a parody of a smile through clenched teeth, fighting down the urge to scream that if the people at Quantonix had kept adequate tabs on the Sarda they were supposed to have been dealing with, none of this would have happened. "A matter of professional ethics and client confidentiality. I sympathize with your situation, but . . ."he shrugged"your internal affairs here are hardly my affair. My obligation was to my patient."
"What kind of problems was he experiencing when he first came to you?" Stewart Perrel asked. Balmer had cited rising apprehension about the forthcoming experiment as the root cause of Sarda's becoming unhinged. Although not widely publicized, the nature of the TX Project was not a closely guarded secret that Sarda would never have discussedhence, it was acceptable for Balmer to reveal that he had known about it. And if it helped give the Quantonix people a feeling of responsibility for what had gone wrong, then so much the better.
"Acute stress and anxiety," he answered. "Patches of memory loss with no coherent pattern. I interpreted it as a subconscious attempt to disown the old personality, anticipating the need to identify with the new one. The problem was reconciling internally what he had convinced himself he believed consciously."
"Hmm." Perrel looked perplexed. "It seems strange that none of this showed up in our tests." He was probably also put out at Sarda's having consulted an outsider and not the project's physician. "Did you know Leo previously, or something?"
"He was introduced by my professional partner, Elaine Corley. They had been friends for a while."
"He's never mentioned any such person to me."
"That was one of the things he'd forgotten when he appeared at my office. I attributed it to a complete breakdown."
"So it would seem. . . . And is she helping in any of this?"
Balmer fidgeted uncomfortably. "I, er, haven't heard from her for two days. She doesn't return calls."
"Strange," Perrel commented. He shook his head, seemingly not knowing what to make of it.
Balmer shrugged. "She was a highly strung woman under a lot of stress, if you want my opinion. A lot of this Sarda business was affecting her too. She'd been acting erratically in a number of ways. I can't say I'm totally surprised."
Herbert Morch began, "This is all very well, but the main" then stopped as a commotion of rising voices culminating in protests from his secretary came from the outer office. Moments later, Sarda burst in, bulging-eyed and purple-faced. He glared around the room for a second, and then leaped at Balmer, seizing him by the lapels with both hands. "It was a trick!" he shouted. "The whole thing was a setup! Where is it? You'll tell me, Balmer, or I'll wring your neck!"
Perrel stepped forward to separate them, while Herbert jumped up and came around the desk. Delia, Herbert's secretary, watched helplessly from the doorway. "Get Sam Eason up here," Herbert called to Max. Max nodded, white-faced, and pulled out his comset.
"He's mad! Get him off!" Balmer yelled.
Herbert and Perrel pulled at Sarda's arms. "Let go of him, Leo!" Herbert barked. They dragged Sarda off, but he lunged back again as soon as they loosened their grip. Herbert forced himself between Sarda and Balmer, planting both hands restrainingly on Sarda's chest. "What are you raving about, Leo? What's gone?"
Sarda pointed an accusing finger over Herbert's shoulder. "The five million advance money that I banked! He knew about it! It's gone! He got the codes out of me while I was under. That's what it was all about!"
"You're insane! I don't know what you're talking about," Balmer bellowed back over Herbert's other shoulder. The duplicate Sarda who had vanished would already have known about that, of course. This one had evidently only just found out. That must have been another item included in the lost memories. The whole thing was preposterous. Sarda had robbed himself and didn't even know it.
"Well, this isn't the way to solve anything," Herbert said, half turning between them to address both. "Calm down, Leo. If it's true, I know it must be a shock. But I don't think Dr. Balmer would have appeared here like this if he were responsible, do you? Now why don't we sit down and discuss this like civilized people?"
"Who else could have done it?" Sarda seethed, but drew back grudgingly. Herbert had a point.
"Now," Herbert said, "tell us from the beginning, Leo. What's happened?"
Sarda glanced balefully at Balmer, who was edging away. "You know what the arrangement was, Herbert. Long before the experiment took place, we acknowledged that there were certain unique risks involved that . . ." He broke off as Sam Eason, Quantonix's security officer, appeared in the doorway behind Delia.
"What have we got? Some kind of a problem here?"
"Oh, I think everything's under control now, Sam," Herbert said. "There was some misunderstanding for a moment. Perhaps, if you'd just stick around outside with Delia for a few minutes . . ."
"Sure thing." Sam gave Sarda and Balmer a stern look to let them know the situation was entrusted to his department now, and withdrew, leaving the door ajar.
"If we" Herbert began again, but Balmer put up a hand.
"It's no good trying to go over what we know," he said. "The answers are in the huge gaps of missing things that Leo doesn't know."
"It's going to take a lot of time and patience, Leo," Perrel told Sarda.
That was the last thing Balmer needed. He shook his head. "Not here. I was on the right track before the experiment happened and brought about the crisis. We need to get him away from here, back to my officea different environment and associations, away from all the negative triggers that are operating here."
Herbert looked at Sarda appealingly. "Will you do that, Leo? It sounds as if it might be the best chance of getting a lead on what happened to your money."
"It might work . . . I guess." Sarda looked suspicious but apparently couldn't argue.
"Maybe Stewart should go tooto keep us involved, as it were," Max suggested. It was a veiled way of asking if Balmer would feel safe working with Sarda alone.
Balmer raised a hand hastily. "I appreciate the offer, gentlemen, but I have my own methods. They work best when fully removed from extraneous influences." Perrel seemed a bit disgruntled but left it at that.
"When would you want to start?" Herbert asked Balmer.
"The sooner, the better," Balmer replied. "Is there any reason why Dr. Sarda couldn't come back with me now?" Herbert looked inquiringly at Sarda. Sarda returned a resigned shrug.
"Sam," Herbert called to the outer office. Eason stuck his head in. "Leo Sarda will be leaving with Dr. Balmer right away. Could you go with them to reception, just to make sure they get off the premises okay?"
"Sure thing," Sam said, holding open the door.
Sarda opened his eyes and looked around. He was in the consulting room at Balmer's office, sitting in the black leather recliner that Balmer used for his patients. Balmer was standing in front of him, peering at him intently. Sarda was confused. He remembered coming here with Balmer from Quantonix, and acrimonious exchanges between them all the way. What Balmer had been doing at Quantonix, he wasn't sure. He remembered being enraged at discovering that the five million was gone from the account at the Lowell Barham Bank, and accusing Balmer of taking it. It didn't make any sense. That was the other Sarda's loss: the copy'swhich had been the whole idea. It had been his own plan. Why would he accuse Balmer? Stewart Perrel had been there with the Morches, expressing concern at his supposedly forgetting things. Nothing made any sense.
"Leo?" Balmer's voice was curiously anxious. Sarda focused on him. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel . . . strangeas if I've been confused over things, but I'm not sure why." Sarda realized he had just awakened from a trance. This hadn't been scheduled. He also realized with alarm that he had no recollection of closing the dealthe big one. His expression darkened. He had never liked Balmer or trusted him. "What's going on?" he demanded.
"Just bear with me, Leo. What are the last things you remember?"
"Being back in Quantonix for the last couple of days before you showed up . . . That's crazy. What was I doing back there? Why wasn't the copy around? Lots of questions from Stewart, Tom Norgent, others . . . Stupid questions. It seems like I was having trouble remembering a lot of things. I don't know why. What have you been doing, Henry?"
Balmer seemed encouraged. He raised his hands placatingly. "Let's go back a bit furtherbefore the experiment. You remember the plan to appropriate the five million? It was your fixation, Leoafter you and Elaine came to me with the proposal for resuscitating you. And then the more worthwhile one of cutting our own deal . . . ?"
Sarda nodded. "I went into the process. Then, I guess, there were a couple of days blank." That would have been while he was in stasis suspension.
"Yes, yes. Go on."
"I remember coming out of resuscitation; leaving the building with Elaine. . . . We met you, came back here for a while, and then you took me to that crummy place out at the end of Gorky, where I was holed up for days."
"I'm sorry, but it was necessary, Leo. We couldn't risk your being recognized and mistaken for the copy at that point."
Sarda looked around. "So where is Elaine?"
"Er, not here. She's out of town right now. We'll come to that later. So you remember the exchanges over technical details, setting up the meeting at Zodiac to close the deal. . . ."
"I left on time, went down to the maglev terminal . . ."
"And . . . ?" Balmer was taut, like an overwound spring on the verge of flying apart. He made tiny, impatient, circular motions with his hands.
Sarda frowned. That was where it got screwy. "I never got to the maglev. There was a guy there, turned out in a suit, like a lawyer or something. He gave some nameI don't remember it; `Tune' or something. Said he was from Zodiac and would drive me there. It was supposed to have been your idea."
"Me? I don't know anything about it. What then?"
"I didn't believe him. But when I tried to pass, this other guy appeared from somewherehuge guy, black. And they had a dog."
"Dog?"
"Big, black, like a police dog, or military. Mean looking. It belonged to the guy in the suit. He gave it orders. There was no way I could argue. They took me down to the traffic level. They had a car waiting. And then . . ." Sarda frowned. It was clear up to that point, but then everything became fragmented, like a jigsaw picture breaking up into pieces and gaps.
"What?" Balmer prompted.
"I'm not sure. . . . We sat in the car. There was another car parked not far away. Elaine was in it. She came across and looked in at me." Sarda drew a hand across his forehead as if wiping a piece of hair away. "She was upset. I'm not surprised. It's crazyI didn't know who she was. She went back to the other car with the guy in the suit. . . . And the black guy from the car brought me here, to this office. You were in a panic, talking to Walworth at Zodiac. I couldn't understand what was going on then, but it's clear now. The deal went through, but we weren't a part of it." Something sickening seemed to open up in Sarda's stomach, and his anger came flooding back. He started to rise from the recliner. "What's happened, Henry? If you're pulling some kind of double-cross"
"No, no, I assure you." Balmer eased him back down. "The man with the dog. He's the one we have to find."
"Are you telling me the money from that deal has gone missing too?" Sarda asked menacingly. "You'd better not be, because" A call tone sounded from the comset in Balmer's jacket pocket. He snatched it out and answered.
"Yes? . . . Yes." Balmer's face paled. "I'm working on it now. I think we have the answer. It just needs a little time. . . ." He listened, then gulped visibly. "Yes, I understand. . . . No, of course not. . . . Three days."
"What" Sarda began. Balmer cut him off with a wave. Sarda saw that he was sweating.
"This man with the dog. Can you describe him?"
"Well, as I said, he had a suitdark; black, or maybe navy. Tall, with wavy hair. Easygoing, smiling kind of person. He had clear eyes, like blue icethe kind that seem to look right through you."
Balmer gesticulated nervously. "Anything else? What about the person who was driving the car? Can you recall anything more about him or her? Or the car itself? Did you get its registration?"
"The driver was all wrapped up. I don't go around memorizing the registrations of every car I see. Do you?" Sarda thought back. "It was classy looking, dark colored. Not sure of the type . . ." Then Sarda remembered something. "But there was a sort of chrome logo on the trunk. It said something Machine. Funny name. Alice, or something like that." Sarda cast his mind back, trying to visualize it. Balmer fished out his comset again, activated it, and brought up a directory listing of vehicle dealers and renters in Lowell.
"Alazahad?" he offered.
Sarda nodded. "Good thinking, Henry. Yes, I'm pretty sure that was it: Alazahad Machine."
"Let's try their web link, just out of curiosity," Balmer murmured. He operated the comset again and watched for a response. "Hm. Owner and proprietor, Mahom Alazahad." He entered another command, studied the result, and then directed a copy to the larger screen on the desk to one side of the room. Then he looked at Sarda inquiringly.
Sarda took in the face: coal black, massively proportioned, smiling broadly beneath a red fez nesting in a wild bush of fuzzy hair. The caption beneath read: THE MR. WHEELS OF UNBEATABLE DEALS. When Sarda had seen him, he was wearing a silky green coat.
"That's him!" he pronounced without hesitation.