Benjamin looked around, nodded. 'I guess,' he said.
'Good.' Anton picked up the computer. 'Go on, lay down. I'll be back in minute with blanket. Give me hour or so, see if I can read the leaves of this teacup.' He smiled down at Benjamin.
Benjamin suddenly wanted very much to trust Anton Sikorsky; to turn the whole mystery over to him, to fade into unconsciousness, hopefully to awaken to answers and clarity-and perhaps the news that Wolfe was alive.
He leaned his head back against the arm of the couch, and by the time Anton came downstairs with a large, thick comforter, he was already sound asleep.
CHAPTER 27
Benjamin woke up to Anton's face above him. For a moment he didn't recognize him and couldn't remember where he was.
'You've had a nice nap?' Anton asked him. He held out a glass of orange juice in one hand, and in the other he held a plate with some sort of sandwich. 'Sit up, eat something. You'll feel better.'
Benjamin slowly raised himself on the couch. He rubbed his eyes, accepted the orange juice from Anton. 'What time is it?' he asked.
'A little after noon,' Anton said. He set the sandwich on the coffee table, then pulled over the armchair and sat down. 'You were sleeping soundly, I didn't want to wake you. But then I think, he's not here to sleep all day, is he.'
Anton waved toward the sandwich. 'It's not much. Something with corned beef, some pickles-you like pickles? Being Polish, I assume everyone likes pickles. Some cheese. Ah,' Anton sighed, 'if my Liska were still here, she would fix something very nice. She made a lamb sandwich-'
Benjamin took a bite of the sandwich, realized he was very hungry indeed, took another.
Anton watched him chew for a minute. Then he said, 'So, now maybe you are ready answer some questions?'
'About Fletcher's computer program? I'm afraid I won't be of any help. It's even more Greek to me than it was to Mr. Wolfe.'
Anton waggled his hand. 'Maybe yes, maybe no. Come on. Bring food.'
With the glass in one hand and the sandwich in the other, Benjamin followed Anton into the foyer and up the stairs.
As they climbed the stairs, Benjamin looked at photos lining the wall. A number were black-and-white photos of Anton surrounded by men, all of them standing in front of blackboards or in offices that suggested academic settings. But in every photograph there were also men in military uniforms-Soviet military uniforms. He recognized those enormous officer hats.
They reached the top of the stairs and turned left, into a small room that might have been Anton's study- except that it looked identical to the downstairs. The shelves were overflowing with books, and a large, heavy antique table held so many even its bulk seemed ready to collapse under their weight.
In a little alcove, Anton's desk was set in the middle of an overarching forest of book stacks. At the other end of the room was a blackboard, filled with equations.
Anton led Benjamin to the desk. Fletcher's laptop was there, the screen up and glowing with a vast, intricate web of equations. Benjamin realized the equations on Jeremy's computer and those on Anton's blackboard were quite similar.
'Now, please, sit,' he motioned toward an armchair nearby, 'and let me ask my questions.'
Benjamin pulled over a captain's chair. Anton sat down in the old wooden swivel chair before the desk, the chair squeaking whenever he turned it from side to side.
'First,' Anton began, 'what the hell is having happened?'
In broad strokes, Benjamin outlined the investigation he and Wolfe had carried out: his discovery of the TEACUP password, the interest Jeremy had had in Myorkin at the FRN and Orlova at the RCC-and Sikorsky at Georgetown. And he confided to Anton that Wolfe thought Jeremy's death hadn't been an accident, that someone at the Foundation may have killed him to keep some aspect of his work secret. A conclusion, Benjamin said, he'd come to agree with.
'Yes, those clear parts,' said Anton, not commenting on Fletcher's possible murder. 'But why you? Why history guy, with Indians and Pilgrims?'
Again, Benjamin wondered how much he should tell Anton. But what was the point in asking for his help if he wasn't completely honest with him?
So he told Anton of the mysterious Ginsburg book about Bainbridge and the fake Bainbridge diary at the Morris Estate. He was even about to tell Anton of the strange symbol he'd seen in the Foundation's mural-but once again he feared it would sound outlandish, fantastical, and undermine Anton's faith in him; so he said nothing about the mural.
While Anton was mulling over what Benjamin had said, Benjamin asked a question of his own.
'Have you ever met Dr. Fletcher?'
'Oh, yes, yes. Years ago. Conference, but of smart ghouls, us guys who do this-' he pointed to the blackboard '-get paid to 'think unthinkable.' '
'Kahn's phrase?' Benjamin asked.
Anton looked surprised. 'You know Kahn?'
'No, not at all,' he said. 'But he was mentioned the other night at dinner.'
'At that place, no surprise. Almost everybody there thinking unthinkable, one way or another.' The tone of teasing sarcasm was suddenly absent from Anton's voice; he sounded more than a little angry. Then he seemed to shake it off.
'And you leave after fire?' he asked.
Benjamin wondered if Anton was accusing him of abandoning Wolfe. 'I wanted to stay and find out if Samuel was okay, but Gudrun… Dr. Soderbergh, she insisted there was nothing I could do, and that I should leave immediately.'
'Um-hm,' said Anton. 'Gudrun Soderbergh. I know this name, too. Rising star. Little bit, how would you say,' Anton leaned his head to one side, 'bent?'
Benjamin thought for a minute. 'Biased?' he asked.
Anton nodded. 'Reminds me my old masters. Always knew answer before asked question. Helluva way to do research.'
'I saw some photos, in the hall,' Benjamin said. 'You used to work for the Soviet military?'
Anton frowned. 'United States has DARPA, RAND, bunch of alphabet soup guys. In USSR, instead of letters is numbers. My number was 12 Directorate, Ministry of Defense. In Kuntsevo, outside Moscow. Sometimes we get vacation, in Urals, at Kovinksky.' He smiled. 'Nicer winters.' Anton stopped talking for a minute. 'You know Russia at all?'
'Not really,' Benjamin said. 'I've never been there.'
'Lucky you,' said Anton. 'Anyway, perestroika come, I go. Americans very happy with my arrival. What the hell for, I wonder. They know everything already. Anyway, here I am. I meet Samuel ten, twelve years ago. We both decide other one is son of a bitch. Get along fine.'
Anton sat back in the chair, looked at him. 'Now, I have three, maybe two more questions.'
'All right,' Benjamin said. 'If I can answer them.'
'We'll see. First question is, who is this Gadenhower guy, with the bees?'
Benjamin smiled. 'Gadenhower was a woman. Edith Gadenhower. Her research seemed quite bizarre to us. I have no idea how it fits in with Dr. Fletcher's research.'
'Is all right,' Anton said. 'Think I do.' He stopped, squinted. 'And you said ' was '?'
'Yes,' said Benjamin, looking uncomfortable. 'After we returned from the Morris Estate, I went to her laboratory and… well, apparently her bees had escaped…'
Anton's eyes widened. 'Fletcher and Gadenhower?' Benjamin nodded. 'And maybe Sam?'
'The fire was in her laboratory.'
