‘The Chinese station at Anaximenes was a supply point for their hydroxyl mining and refining operations around the north pole,’ Eunice said, tapping her instantaneous knowledge base. ‘Once the pipelines were in and extraction became automated, there was no need to keep all the crewed stations open. There’s no longer a human presence in Anaximenes, and the last person to set foot in Pythagoras was me.’ She paused, catching herself before anyone else had a chance to speak. ‘Actually, I lie: a recovery team flew in to strip the ship for anything salvageable – ’tronics, fuel, shielding. They were Indian, and under space law they had the right to fillet the wreck. But that was only a few weeks later and they wouldn’t have touched most of the evidence.’
‘Evidence,’ Geoffrey said. ‘It’s like we’re already talking about a crime scene.’
‘Maybe we’re making a bit too much of it,’ Sunday said. ‘If the glove was meant to lead us to the crater, why didn’t it just come with a handy little map tucked into it?’
‘A test of your ability to draw the necessary conclusion from the clues, perhaps?’ Eunice suggested.
‘Well, good luck,’ Geoffrey said. ‘I’ll be deeply interested to hear what, if anything, you find out there.’
‘We’re all in this together, brother,’ Sunday said.
‘Speak for yourself. All I’ve done is examine a glove at the request of the family.’
Sunday turned back to the construct. ‘Thank you for your time, Eunice – you’ve been most helpful.’
‘It’s over,’ Geoffrey said, when the figment had vanished. ‘There’s no mystery. No reason not to come clean about the glove, and the gemstones.’
Sunday shrugged and decided, possibly with the assistance of mild intoxication, that she would call his bluff. ‘Fine. Call the cousins. Tell them what you found.’
‘They still think the glove’s in Copetown.’
‘Say you went back and got it. It’ll only be a white lie.’
Jitendra sucked air through his teeth. ‘Beginning to wish I hadn’t been so clever after all.’
‘It’s all right,’ Sunday said. ‘This is just a brother-and-sister thing.’
‘What Sunday doesn’t grasp,’ Geoffrey said, ‘is that there’s more at stake to me personally than the reputation of Eunice, or the family business.’
‘You think you’re the only one with responsibilities?’
‘I have to put the elephants first, and that means keeping the cousins happy. So I’ll take the glove back to Earth, and declare the contents to customs.’
Sunday said nothing. She knew when her brother still had more to get off his chest.
‘But I won’t tell the cousins about the mathematical pattern. They can work that out for themselves, if they’re bright enough. And I won’t tell them what Eunice just told us either.’
‘They’re not fools,’ Sunday said.
‘It’s a compromise. You and Jitendra can keep digging into this little treasure hunt, if you wish. The cousins don’t need to know about that. Mainly they’ll be relieved that there wasn’t anything obvious and incriminating in the vault. Now they can go back to their polo with a clear conscience.’
‘At least we agree on one thing,’ Sunday said. ‘Neither of us likes the cousins very much.’
‘They’re Akinyas,’ Geoffrey said. ‘I think that says it all.’
CHAPTER SIX
In the morning he found Sunday in her studio. She had already been busy and industrious – she always had been a morning person. There was fresh bread and milk, the smell of powerful coffee permeating the apartment.
‘It’s very nice,’ he said, admiring the piece she was working on. It was some kind of half-scale Maasai-looking figure study: a skeletal stick-thin figure with a spear. Sunday was using a power tool to chisel away at the blade- edge of a cheekbone, biting her tongue in fierce concentration.
‘It’s shit, actually. Commissioned work. I’m doing two of them, to flank the doorway of an ethnic restaurant in the third cavern.’ She wore a long skirt, a black T-shirt and a red headscarf. Power tools, dappled with dried white specks, dangled from a belt hanging low around her hips. ‘What pays the rent around here, not digging into the past of a dead ancestor.’
‘It’s still art.’
‘That’s one point of view.’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘They wanted something African. I said, you’re going to have to narrow it down a bit: are we talking west coast, east coast, are we even sub-Saharan? But no, they said, we want to keep it less
‘Like you say, it pays the rent.’
‘Guess I shouldn’t complain. Picasso drew on napkins to pay his bar tabs. And if this goes in on time, there may be more work when they open another concession across town.’ She hooked the power tool back into its loop and unbuckled the belt, draping it onto one of her paint-and-plaster-spattered work surfaces. ‘You’re up, anyway. You want breakfast? I thought we’d hit the zoo today.’
‘I just grabbed some bread,’ Geoffrey said. ‘Where’s Jitendra?’
‘Asleep. Does all his best thinking unconscious.’ She pottered over to a bowl and dipped her hands in water before drying them on her skirt. ‘Hope that wasn’t too heavy, all that business last night.’
‘Anything to do with family is bound to err on the heavy side.’ Geoffrey looked down, realising he’d trodden in something wet and sticky. ‘Look, I meant to say – it was absolutely wrong of me not to tell you straight away what I was doing up here, but I felt I was in a bind. If you can forgive me—’
‘I already have. This one time.’ She finished drying her fingers, leaving dark ovals on the skirt. ‘But listen – you
