I didn't care where he answered my one question as long as he answered it, and so I dutifully followed him as he ran interference against the crush of traffic coming through the lobby in the opposite direction. We went past the two banks of elevators, then down a corridor to a door at the end that looked as if it might be a utility closet. Patton removed an elegant silver key chain from his pocket, selected a key, opened the door. It led to a small vestibule with a single elevator that had no call button. My escort unlocked a small wooden cabinet on the wall to the right, pushed a button inside. The elevator door sighed open.
'Why the private elevator?' I asked as I followed him in, watched him push a gray button-the only button-to the left of the door, which sighed shut.
'We're not a commercial enterprise in any sense of the word, Dr. Frederickson. We don't sell anything. We're strictly a research and development corporation.'
'And, from what I hear, a whopping tax write-off.' He gave me a quick, furtive look. 'You seem to know-or think you know-quite a lot about Nuvironment, Dr. Frederickson. We have absolutely no need to interface with the public; the private elevator is merely a convenience for our staff, as is the fact that we have our offices in Manhattan. Outsiders who do have occasion to talk with us are met in the lobby and brought up, as you are. It gives it all so much more of a personal touch, if you know what I mean.'
I didn't have the slightest idea what he meant, and since he wasn't likely to be keeping a hundred tons of dirt on the premises, I didn't care. The door opened, and I followed him out into a gold-carpeted, walnut-lined reception area. He pushed open a door of heavy smoked glass, held it for me, then led me through the first door on the left. I found myself in a spacious corner office with a wrap-around arrangement of picture windows that looked out over Fifth Avenue toward Central Park. On one wall was a large painting that might have been the company logo-a brightly glowing, transparent sphere containing lakes, forests, and people suspended in the coldness of space.
'Let me get right to the point,' I said, closing the door behind me and ignoring his gesture indicating that I should sit in one of the two thickly cushioned, leather chairs set up in front of his steel and glass desk. 'I need to know where you dumped your hundred tons of Amazon rain forest soil.'
Patton, who had moved behind his desk but remained standing, merely stared at me, the tic in his left cheek the only punctuation on a face that was otherwise virtually blank.
'I'm not interested in any laws that may have been broken, Patton,' I continued. 'My concern is strictly private, and it has to do with the physical and psychological welfare of a child who I have good reason to believe is being sexually molested. I'm sure you'd share my concern if you knew the details, but I don't want to take any more of your time than I have to. I give you my word that I'm not interested in doing anything that will jeopardize the reputation or interests of Nuvironment. All I want to do is find the kid and make sure she's going to be all right. If I can find the dirt you people brought into this country, then I'll find the kid. Tell me where to look, and I'm long gone.'
'Please sit down, Dr. Frederickson,' Peter Patton said quietly.
'No thanks. I'm in a hurry.'
'Would you like a cup of coffee?'
'I told you what I wanted.'
Peter Patton, moving very deliberately in a manner that reminded me of a marionette, slowly eased himself down into his leather swivel chair, folded his hands on the glass desk top, then looked up at me. 'I don't know what to say, Dr. Frederickson,' he said at last, his voice still very soft. 'You're obviously very upset, and I can understand why. I'm also upset at the thought of a child being sexually abused. However, I really don't know what you're talking about.'
'No? Ever heard of a man named William Kenecky?'
'Of course. He's a televangelist-a rather strident one, I'm told-who's been indicted on charges of tax evasion.'
'Are you people hiding him?'
He stiffened in his chair, frowned. 'Good heavens, no. What on earth would make you think such a thing?'
Things weren't going well. I'd been plain enough in explaining what I wanted to know, and why, and had gone out of my way to reassure Patton that my interest had nothing to do with any criminal investigation. Then I'd tried to turn up the pressure by pointing out that Nuvironment could be accused of harboring a fugitive from justice. Zip. One of two things was true: either Patton and Nuvironment really weren't involved at all in the importation of the rain forest soil, a possibility I gave absolutely no credence to, or Patton was going to stonewall me totally, regardless of what was being done to Vicky Brown, rather than risk jeopardizing whatever else besides dirt the company was trying to keep secret. Suddenly I felt foolish standing there in front of the man with the tic in his cheek. It was enough to give me newfound respect for Garth's nose.
'Are you denying that your company arranged for the importation of special soil from the Amazon basin?'
'Of course I'm denying it. It isn't true.'
I said nothing.
'You don't believe me?'
Now I sat down-if only to indicate to Patton that I fully intended to take as much time with him as necessary. If I couldn't get him to tell me the truth, I intended to make it very clear to him that I knew he was lying-and that I'd keep digging and digging, burrowing just as deep as I had to.
'Nuvironment very much wanted a load of that soil not too long ago, right?'
Patton's delicate hands clenched and unclenched almost imperceptibly, but his gaze remained steady, and his voice even. 'You've come into possession of some very sensitive information. I don't know how you got it; there are such things as company secrets that are perfectly legitimate, you know.'
'Do you deny that you tried in the past to get the soil?'
'No. As a matter of fact, we tried twice. After we were first discouraged by the Customs Service, we appealed; we were given an even more negative reaction the second time, if that's possible. That was the end of the matter.'
'Why was it the end of the matter? From what I understand, you need the stuff.'
'The 'stuff,' as you call it, is very high in microbial count and activity, and would indeed have proved useful in our experiments. But the Customs Service disapproved our request, and that was that. This is a very important company, Dr. Frederickson, and if you'd checked you'd have discovered that we have an impeccable reputation. It just so happens that there are sterilization and injection methods-legal ones-we can employ to approximate those soil conditions, so we didn't-don't-need the actual soil.'
'But I assume it would be expensive and time-consuming to produce a hundred tons of artificial rain forest soil.'
Patton shrugged his frail shoulders. ' 'Artificial' isn't quite the right word for it-but yes, what you say is true. However, at this stage we are not particularly concerned with time or expense.'
'That's hard to believe, Mr. Patton.'
'Nevertheless, it's true. The construction of even a prototype biosphere is years-maybe decades-away, and there are still many other avenues of research besides soil types to explore. We don't really need that soil-not now-as much as you seem to think we do.'
If Mr. Peter Patton, with his Dorian Gray face and the tic in his left cheek, was a bald-faced liar, he was a very good one; there was nothing but sweet reasonableness and sincerity in his oddly unripe voice. I suppressed a sigh. 'What other people or companies are into this biosphere business?'
'Oh, thousands of concerns do related research-every earth science is involved, after all. But nobody that I know of would actually try to build a biosphere on a scale suitable for long-term human habitation; it would take the resources of a government-or Blaisdel Industries-to do it. Since the expenditures involved are considerable, the government is quite willing to let us proceed on our own. Blaisdel Industries gets grants and tax write-offs in return, certainly, but this whole operation is much more a labor of love on Mr. Blaisdel's part than you can imagine. It's his testament to his belief in the future of the human race. The day will come, he believes, when Nuvironment biospheres will provide the means for the human species to colonize the other planets of our solar system. In the meantime, discoveries are constantly being made; certain patenting procedures which must be observed are the reason we're so 'secretive,' if that's what you think we are. Licensing those patented processes is the only payoff we have, for now.'
