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always nervous in the presence of strangers. Or maybe of strange women. He had cinnamon-colored hair, which was already growing thin, and his eyes never quite got clear of the ground.
    “No. No problem. We’re interested in buying the tablet. Do you still have it?”
    “No.”
    “Can you tell me who does?”
    A woman who had the right dimensions and hair to be the one who’d helped make the pickup appeared from somewhere. I hadn’t seen her in the stands. “This is my wife, Ara,” Doug said.
    “I couldn’t help overhearing,” Ara said. She was still in her flighty years. But she looked good. Inquisitive dark eyes, black hair cut short, and the body of a dancer. I realized right away she was in charge of the marriage. She simply took over from Doug. “Mr. Benedict,” she said, “we were bringing it back for our aunt. But while we were en route, she decided she didn’t want it.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “Well, when we showed it to her, from the skimmer, she said that wasn’t the same one that she’d seen in the ad.”
    “It wasn’t the same one?”
    “She meant it was more worn than she’d expected.”
    “Oh.”
    She shrugged. “So she said she didn’t want it.”
    “What did you do with it?”
    “We dropped it in the river.”
    “In the river ?” Alex couldn’t conceal his horror.
    “Yes. She thought it was an artifact, but after she saw it, she said it was worthless.”
    “Oh.”
    “And she’d know. She collects stuff like that.”
    We had caught Brian Lewis’s attention. He came over, and we did the introductions again. “Sorry,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice when he heard what we were after. “Yeah. That’s what happened to it. It’s in the river.”
    “Can you tell us where in the river?” asked Alex.
    “Near the Trafalgar Bridge,” said Ara.
    “Right.” Doug made a face, trying to recall details. “We were about a kilometer from the bridge when we ditched it.”
    “Which side?”
    “The east side,” said Ara. “I thought it was more than a kilometer, though. More like three or four.”
    Brian thought about it. “Yeah,” he said. “That might be right.”
    Alex gave them business cards. “Call me if you remember anything else, okay?”
    They assured him they would. Brian walked away while Ara and Doug climbed into a white-and-gold Sentinel. It was the same one they’d used to collect the tablet.
     
    Alex called Audree Hitchcock, a longtime friend who did oceanic surveys for the Geologic Service. “We’re looking for a rock,” he said.
    “Beg pardon, Alex?” At the beginning of her career, Audree had worked for Gabe, Alex’s uncle. She and Alex saw each other socially on occasion, but it seemed to be more friendship than romance. Audree was a bright, energetic blonde with intense blue eyes and a passion for the theater. She belonged to the Seaside Players, a local amateur group.
    “It’s a tablet, Audree.” He showed her.
    “What’s it worth?”
    “We’re not sure yet. Probably nothing.”
    “But maybe a lot?”
    “Maybe.”
    “And somebody dropped it into the river?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Why?”
    “Call it bad judgment. Can we rent you for a day?”
    “Where, precisely, did they drop it?”
    “East of the Trafalgar Bridge. They say it’s somewhere between one and four klicks.”
    “Okay. We’ll take a look. It’ll be a couple of days before we can get to it, though.”
    “Good. And, Audree?”
    “Yes, Alex.”
    “Don’t put a lot of effort into it. If it doesn’t show up on the first effort, let it go.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m not sure I believe the story.”
    “Okay. I’ll do what I can. By the way, Alex—”
    “Yes, Audree?”
    “We’re doing Moving Target this weekend.”
    “You’re in it?”
    “I’m the target.”
    “I’m not surprised. Can you set a night aside for me?”

FOUR

    A father can make no more serious error than striving to make his son like himself.
    —Timothy Zhin-Po, Night