and the usual answer is still no.'
That was it. She wasn't going to tell until somebody higher up authorized it. That didn't surprise Dannerman; but what did surprise him was that, when he finally did get a clue, it came from that old fart of a family lawyer, Jerome Dixler.
The place the lawyer had chosen for lunch was a small private club way downtown on Gramercy Park. The place appeared to have a theatrical history. When Dannerman checked his twenty-shot and carryphone at the cloakroom-the gun was no surprise, but he was a little astonished that the club did not allow phones to ring in their dining room-he was informed that Mr. Dixler hadn't arrived yet. He spent ten minutes in the lounge, studying full- length oil paintings of famous members, all actors of a century or more ago whose names were familiar to him only from long-ago courses at Harvard. When the lawyer showed up he was out of breath.
'Real apologies, Dan,' he panted. 'The traffic gets worse every day and that driver of mine- Well, I did make it. Here, let's get to our table and order something to drink.'
Dannerman was mildly flattered, more intrigued, by the fact that Dixler had put himself out to try to be on time. Still, he didn't get to business right away, whatever his business was going to turn out to be. While the waiter was bringing cocktails the lawyer went over every item on the menu, discussing the provenance of the basic foods that went into it and the way the club's chef prepared it. Dannerman knew he was meant to feel courted. Clearly Dixler had taken him to a pretty expensive place, although Dannerman's own menu was bereft of prices for anything. He wondered just what it was that the lawyer wanted from him that justified this kind of entertainment.
Dixler was in no hurry to get to it. As soon as the orders had been placed he said brightly, 'Well, then, Dan. How're you getting along with dear little Pat?'
'Well enough. I don't see much of her in the office.'
Dixler clucked. 'That's a pity. You know Cuthbert always hoped you two kids would get together someday.'
'Him too.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Nothing. Someone else said the same thing, just the other night, but I don't think it's going to happen. For one thing, Pat never got in touch with me after Uncle Cubby died.'
Dixler gave him a wounded look. 'You never called me, either, Dan. I hope you're not holding a grudge about that problem with your inheritance.'
'There wasn't any problem. There just wasn't any inheritance by the time it got to me. You explained it all when I got back from Europe. As executor you liquidated the estate.'
'Had to, Dan. It's the law. I'm sorry it worked out the way it did, but I put the whole bequest into government bonds the way I was supposed to; it's not my fault inflation was so bad there wasn't much there when you got home. If you'd kept in touch while you were in Europe-'
'Yes, everybody's in agreement about me, aren't they? Pat told me I should have kept in touch, too. Well, I'm not blaming anybody.' Dannerman wasn't, either, not really; there wasn't any point since there wasn't anything that could be done about it now. He changed the subject. 'Anyway, it didn't work all that well for Pat, either, did it? I hear she's having her own money troubles.'
Dixler looked startled. 'How'd you hear that?' Dannerman shrugged. 'Well, I suppose offices gossip. It's true enough. I don't think I'm violating lawyer-client confidentiality if I say that divorcing two husbands cost her a lot.'
'Ah,' Dannerman said, nodding. 'I guess you handled the divorces for her.'
The lawyer winced. 'Really, Dan, that's unkind. I did the best I could for her. No attorney can do more than his client lets him, and she-well, she didn't provide me with the best cases, you know. That's about all I can say with propriety. Wouldn't say that much, you know, if you weren't family.' He worked on his salad in silence for a moment, then came to the point. 'Let me take you into my confidence, Dan. I guess you wondered why I asked you to come down here.'
'I suppose it's because the club is sort of historic, and the food's good,' Dannerman offered politely.
'Historic, sure; they say John Wilkes Booth used to eat in this very room. If you like history. I don't; and there's good food in plenty of places that are a lot more convenient. There's only one reason I keep my membership in this place and that's because nobody I know ever comes here. It's private. What I wanted to talk to you about is confidential, and in a way it does have to do with Pat's financial situation. You see-' He hesitated, then put his fork down and got it out. 'There are some funny rumors going around about what your cousin's up to. I mean this repair mission on that Starlab orbiter. It's not just that the observatory wants its telescopes working again. People seem to think there's more to it. In fact, some people say there's some kind of technology in Starlab that isn't supposed to be there. The kind that might be worth a lot of money to whoever got his hands on it.'
Dannerman kept his expression blank, but his level of interest suddenly elevated. 'How can that be? Starlab's just an old astronomical satellite.'
The lawyer shrugged. 'Whether the rumor is true or not, it appears that your cousin thinks it is. She's spending pretty heavily out of what's left of her personal fortune to get what she calls the repair mission going.'
That was a good deal more puzzling than enlightening. 'Why does she have to spend her own money? You read me Uncle Cubby's will. Unless I heard wrong, it seems to me he left the observatory pretty well financed.'
Dixler shook his head. 'She has to account to the board for anything she spends out of the endowment. If she wants that mission to fly she's got a lot of off-the-books expenses to deal with. I wouldn't call them bribes, exactly. But not exactly legitimate, either, if you know what I mean. She doesn't want to have to explain them to the board, so she's been dipping into her capital to pay them out of her own pocket. She's been buying uncut diamonds, too.'
For the first time Dannerman was startled. 'Uncut diamonds!'
The lawyer shrugged. 'For what purpose I do not know. She certainly doesn't plan to wear them, and she's got better inflation hedges than diamonds already.' He shook his head. 'Dan, I don't have to tell you, that's not like her. So she must have some pretty powerful reason-and there are these rumors.'
'What do the rumors say, exactly?'
The lawyer said shrewdly, 'That's what I'm asking you to find out. You work there; you should be able to get the facts on it.'
Dannerman quelled a sudden impulse to laugh in the man's face. 'You're not asking me to be a spy, are you?'
'Oh, no! Nothing like that! I wouldn't ask you to pry into your cousin's affairs. All I want you to do is keep your ears open… and, of course, give me a call when you find anything out.'
'So you can figure out some way to cut yourself in on the profits-if there are any?'
Dixler flushed, but he controlled his temper. 'My reasons,' he said, 'aren't actually any of your business. If you want to take a guess about them, you're welcome, but I don't choose to discuss the subject.'
'Let me think about it,' Dannerman said. The lawyer waved graceful permission with one hand, and began to talk about what a fine man Cuthbert Dannerman had been and how charming Dan and his cousin had been as children. Dannerman listened but didn't need to say much; Dixler was conducting the conversation by himself. Only when the meal was finished and they were getting their checked belongings at the cloakroom did the lawyer say:
'What about it, Dan?'
Dannerman was listening to a message that had come with his carryphone and gun. He looked up. 'What?'
Dixler lowered his voice. 'I said, will you do what I'm asking for me? I can make it worth your while, Dan.'
'How worth my while?' Dixler shrugged and was mute. 'Well, I'll do what I can,' Dannerman said ambiguously. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to run. Looks like I've got an appointment I hadn't expected.'
'Fine,' said Dixler. 'I'll be waiting to hear from you.'
As Dixler got into his limousine Dannerman waited for the doorman to produce a cab. He was thinking hard, but not about the lawyer's offer. He was listening again to the message that had been on his phone. What it said was:
'Dr. Adcock will be returning to the observatory some time after two-thirty. You should be waiting at the street
