"Probably, but it depends on the weather." Quinton reached for his coat. "Why couldn't I curate a museum in Florida?"
"I hear there's a position opening at Gatorland." Hutch grinned.
"Sounds perfect."
They left Quinton's office and went their separate ways, the curator home to his wife and Hutch down to the basement lab of the MCZ annex. Aleksi and Bob should have all the samples squared away by now with Derrick's help. First, however, he had to take care of one unpleasant task. He pulled his phone from his pocket, brought up the directory, and punched a number he hadn't called in almost a year. As it rang, he secretly wished it would go to voicemail, but today wasn't his lucky day.
"Hutch? What's wrong?"
God, he hated caller ID. "Hello, Persephone. Nothing's wrong. Why would something be wrong?"
"You only ever call when something's wrong." She sounded busy, which was pretty much her status every waking hour. "Sorry. What's up?"
"I was thinking about the faculty New Year party and wondered if you had plans." Please, please be busy.
"I'll have to check my schedule." There was a long pause, which he refused to break. "I always did enjoy those parties, and you look so dashing in a tux. So, how are things in Cambridge?"
"Quiet. Winter recess, you know. I'm at the MCZ right now."
"You're working? They don't give you a recess just so you can dig up more bones, you know." She'd always given him grief for working too hard, though he had taken every holiday and vacation day he'd earned while they were married. Persephone had not held a job a day in her life and didn't understand people who did.
He often wondered what they'd seen in each other to begin with. She was from old money, and he was middle class. He worked hard to make a name for himself and build a career, and she had been born with a name and only worked hard to maintain her reputation as a socialite. They'd met at a fundraiser for the school where he learned she had a love of cryptozoology. Unfortunately, she found academics boring, except for the parties.
"Well, these bones were in the archives of the museum, so I didn't even need to get my knees dirty."
"I remember you used to like dirty knees, at least when they were mine."
"Ha! Well, I see your sense of humor hasn't changed." There were a few things he remembered about Persephone with fondness, but there were far too many unfond ones to counterbalance those. She'd gotten bored with him, and when Persephone got bored, she became petulant and dangerous. "Call me when you figure out your schedule."
"Will do," she chimed, then added, "and thanks for calling, Hutch. It would be good to see you again, and I'm not joking."
"You, too, Persephone. Bye."
"Bye, Hutch."
He pressed End and took a deep, calming breath. Honestly, he didn't know why he'd invited her. Their divorce had been amicable. She had more money than many small countries, so there was no alimony, and there were no children to fight over. More than anything, he thought it would have been rude not to invite her, and he shouldn't go alone. The one thing Persephone loved above all others was a formal party where she could be the center of attention. He wasn't really looking forward to the faculty function, but had to attend for political reasons. He could do a lot worse than to walk in with Persephone on his arm. If he was lucky, she'd be surrounded by physicians and lawyers, and he could ditch her. He dropped his phone in his pocket and headed down to Aleksi's lab.
Aleksi brushed her fingers against the door of room B-5 in the MCZ basement and turned the key in the lock. My lab. The thought brought a thrill of excitement. Her first impression of the place had been less than thrilling, but at least it was hers. Hers and two other technicians' who worked for the museum. Shared space was the only space they could get, and she felt sorry for the other technicians. She was going to make a hell of a mess in here.
She held the door open while Derrick and Bob maneuvered the last and largest of the four samples through. It barely fit. They wheeled the huge slab between lab benches and other projects underway. There were two fume hoods set into one wall, and open air-handling conduits hanging from the ceiling. Her portion of the space, about a quarter of the entire room, was walled off by plastic sheeting to keep the dust she would generate contained.
"Here. Let me get that." She held the sheeting aside for the trolley, and the two men wheeled the heavy crate through.
"I can't believe you're going to do all this yourself." Bob stood aside while Derrick locked the wheels and brought the crate back to horizontal, then wheeled the portable electric lift into position.
"It'll go faster than you think. Plaster is easy. Once we get down to rock, things will slow down." She and Bob watched nervously as the technician lifted the lid off the crate and pried up the foam. She cringed at his brisk movements. "Need any help?"
"No." Derrick glanced at her and she saw a flash of something in his eyes that might have been annoyance before he flashed that smile again. "I'm being careful. Trust me."
"Sure." She bit her lip as he attached the straps to the lift's hook and pushed the button that engaged the electric motor. Its whine deepened as the sample came free of the crate.
"Jesus H. Christ that's huge." Bob chuckled nervously as Derrick pulled the trolley and the empty crate away, then maneuvered the lift until the sample hung over the table. "I hope the table will take it."
"Sorry about the cramped quarters, but it was all we could get." They all turned at Hutch's voice. He pulled the plastic sheeting aside and stopped dead. "Don't let me interrupt."
"No problem, professor." Derrick smiled that patent smile again and lowered the specimen down onto the table. Unhooking the straps, he turned that smile on Aleksi. "See? I told you to trust me."
"Thank you." Aleksi breathed a sigh of relief and helped maneuver the lift and the trolley out of the curtained space.
"I'll help Derrick take these back." Bob smiled and waved. "Call me if you need anything Aleksi. I'm setting up the genetics lab for the next week, so I'm not far away."
"Um…sure."
"Thanks, Bob." Hutch gestured Aleksi back to the personal protection equipment station set up outside the plastic barrier. "So, first things first. You know the procedures, but I've got to cover them."
"Sure." She followed him to the cart laden with paper and latex.
"Nobody goes in without gloves and particle mask." This, she knew, was more for the protection of the specimens than her; any contact with the fossils could contaminate them with human DNA. "A gown isn't mandatory, but unless you want plaster and rock dust in your clothes, I'd recommend one. Any time anyone's working, eye shields are mandatory and ear protection if you're using power tools." He put on gloves and a particle mask, and she followed suit.
Hutch pushed open the overlapping plastic sheeting and stepped inside the enclosure. The four samples dominated the space. One was in a partial state of exposure, and one was completely free of any restraining shipping matrix, though there was still quite a bit of rock to be removed. The last two were just huge blocks of plaster with their documents lying beside them in flat plastic pouches. All the tools and equipment she would need were set up along the bench that ran around the periphery of the lab.
"I know I don't need to tell you to document everything. There's a digital camera set up for you there." He gestured to an imaging setup, a simple digital camera on a frame with a gridded base for reference. "Photograph all the field notes first, that way you can transfer the files and work on transcribing them at home. There's plastic for your laptop if you want to work here, too. Nothing leaves the lab without approval."
"Of course." She glanced at him. "Don't worry, Hutch. I know the rules." She'd spent thousands of hours in labs like this, probably more than he had.
"Sorry. I know you do." He took a deep breath. "I'm just stressing a little. Big project, big grant, big responsibility." He smiled behind his mask, his eyes crinkling. "You sure you want a PhD? The first thing they do is stick you in an office and tell you
to start delegating all the fun stuff."
"I'm sure." Something was bothering him, without a doubt. Did he doubt her abilities? She didn't dare ask. "I better get to work. I've only got a few weeks before classes start."
"Oh, that reminds me." He grimaced. "I got you out of January GSAS, but the freshman bio lab is a bigger problem. Lawson's being a pain about it, and if I take it off your shoulders, I'll have to double load someone else. I thought of Lonnie, but she's defending her dissertation this semester, and it wouldn't be fair. I'll try to find someone to take it, but it might not happen until a few weeks into the semester."
"Okay." Freshman biology lab really wasn't much work, but it meant at least ten hours a week in set up, take down, and paperwork. That time had to come from somewhere. "It might slow things down here some."
"Understood." He looked around at the samples and shrugged. "Maybe I can free myself up a few hours a week to help you here. Been a while since I got my hands dirty."
"Sure." She wasn't sure she liked the idea of working side-by-side with her advisor. Too many cooks could ruin a project. There was only one thing that she felt obligated to say. "As long as I get my proposal in on time and can prepare for my quals."
"That I can promise you, Aleksi." He looked her in the eye, serious as stone. "You have my word on it."
"Thanks." She looked away, uncomfortable with his eyes on hers. "Well, I better start taking pictures."
"Right." He turned away and pushed open the barrier, then turned back. "Oh, and when we need to take anything for CT or X-ray there's a ton of paperwork involved, so let me know as soon as you can and I'll start the ball rolling.
"No problem."
"Okay, then. Don't work too late. Let me know if you need anything."
"I will." Aleksi watched him leave, his shape murky though the translucent plastic barrier. Alone and safe, she got to work.
5
Hutch burst into his office and threw his coat in the general direction of the rack. He barely had time to do his email before he had to meet with the graduate coordinator about Aleksi's schedule. The thought of her in her oral qualifying exams worried him. She seemed too introverted to handle it. With any luck, the meeting wouldn't last long. He had to get home, get cleaned up, and put on a tux. The faculty party started at seven.
"Five hours of standing around dealing with stuffed shirts…"
He booted up his computer and reviewed his snail mail while his email downloaded. Nothing that can't wait, he decided, filing the stack in his "to do" pile. Not many emails, either. Maybe there was hope for a cup of coffee before his meeting. He scanned them and cringed. One was from a Persephone, and the subject was 'Party Time!'
"Shit." He hadn't heard a word from her since he'd invited her to the party and thought she had gotten a better offer. Now this. He read it quickly. She would meet him at his place at six thirty, ready to go. "Fucking perfect!"
"That doesn't sound good."
He glanced up to see Lonnie Westinghouse leaning against his door. "Jeez, Lonnie! You scared the shit out of me! What's up?"
"Just dropped by to talk about my dissertation defense, but if you've already got too much on your plate…"
"This? Don't worry; nothing serious. My ex is coming to the faculty party tonight."
"I thought she was long gone."
"Yeah, well, I'm an idiot. I invited her just to be nice, and she just accepted." He sighed. "Nothing like the last minute. Not your problem. What's up with your dissertation?"
"I was thinking that I'm pretty much ready to roll except for a few details. If we can manage to move the date up a few weeks, I can take that bio lab for Aleksi, and maybe help her with the samples a little. I'll just be writing otherwise."
"That would be awesome, Lonnie. See what you can do about scheduling."
"Herding cats, you mean?" She rolled her eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
"Great, but don't tell Aleksi until it's settled. Don't want to set her up for a fall."
"Sure, Hutch. Bummer about the party. Some of the grad students are getting together at Dudley for drinks, junk food, and watching the ball fall." She grinned at him. "Come by if you get bored."
"I might. Thanks." It sounded like a hell of a lot more fun than a night with Persephone and a room full of stodgy professors.
"Great. See you there, maybe." She waved. "Good luck with Persephone."
"Thanks." He grimaced at the thought of an evening with his ex-wife.
Beautiful…" Aleksi's latex-covered fingers brushed the dark rock and fossilized bone.
She'd translated the field notes, stored all the old documents, and removed the shipping matrix from three of the four samples. They were still embedded in rock, but the plaster casting had been removed. She could see her treasures now.
Not a bad start for less than a week. It was late, and Aleksi was getting tired, but one sample remained untouched; the largest one. Before she could begin the more delicate task of chipping and grinding away the concealing rock, she had to remove the plaster from the last sample. If she didn't, she'd just have to clean up the plaster dust twice.
She stretched her aching back and neck and glanced at the clock. The sunlight through the basement windows had faded hours ago. It was just past eight. I'll just get a good start on the last one and call it a day.
She moved her tools to the last bench and looked over the largest of the four samples. Big enough to fill a coffin, it weighed several hundred pounds. She was glad she wouldn't have to move it. She lifted the bone saw, a device designed to cut bone or plaster casts with a blunt-toothed vibrating blade, and flipped it on. The trick with this step was to go slowly. She knew from the cover sheet the approximate dimensions of the sample within, but she'd read erroneous cover sheets before, and had seen samples damaged by overzealous technicians. She estimated that she had at least three inches of plaster to cut through, but her first cut would only be a half-inch deep.
She sliced down the middle of the block, blinking through the plaster dust. After pausing to wipe her safety glasses, she made another pass parallel to the first, same depth, six inches to the left, and connected the two cuts top and bottom. She then inserted a broad bladed chisel and tapped it with a hammer. The plaster was layered with canvas, like most samples preserved in the early twentieth century, and if she gauged her cuts right it would come off in sheets. The six-inch swath came out in pieces. She'd been right; there was a layer of heavy canvas beneath. She vacuumed the area clean and retrieved a pair of sheers. The canvas was heavily waxed, a primitive moisture barrier before the advent of plastics, but even so, one side was moldy. As she cut along the periphery and lifted the material free, however, she stared in surprise at what lay beneath.
Directly in the middle of the block, still partially covered by the outer layer of plaster, a canvas-wrapped bundle lay in a square recess.
"What the hell?" She peered at the package.
It had been completely encased in waxed canvas, then plastered over. But what was it? She reached for the bone saw, intending to cut it free, but then realized what she was doing and cursed under her breath.
"Pictures first, idiot!"
She removed the plastic hood that protected the photographic equipment from dust and lifted the digital camera from its mount. After placing a ruler next to the package for scale, she climbed onto a stepstool and took several photos. Evidently, this sample hadn't been X-rayed, or they'd have found this earlier. She snapped more pictures, her mind filled with visions of Faberge eggs and other national treasures secreted out of the country to save them from the chaos of Russian revolution.
Returning the camera to its hood, she retrieved the bone saw and cut around the assumed outline of the package and lifted the plaster free. After more pictures, sheers parted the waxed canvas and she folded it back. The entire package measured only about eight by six inches. She vacuumed the dust away and took more pictures, then gingerly lifted the bundle free. It was only an inch thick, and even b
efore she put it down under the camera, she knew it was a book.
"Curiouser and curiouser," she muttered as she changed to clean gloves.
Snapping photos at every step, Aleksi unwrapped the package. As she removed the last layer of fine cotton cloth, her face split into a grin beneath her dust mask. It was a book, with a plain brown leather cover and high-quality stitched binding, but without a single marking on the cover. She lay the cloth aside and took more photos, front back and spine. It was in excellent condition for a hundred-year-old book. Then, holding her breath, she gingerly turned the cover over. The inside page was blank.
"Huh?" She stared at it for a moment, as if willing some hidden message to appear, then snapped a photo and reached for the page. The fine parchment was yellowed at the edges but turned without cracking. The next page was blank, too, and her mistake dawned in her mind.
"Idiot." She closed the book and turned it over. With no markings on the cover, she'd flipped the back open first. With the same care, she turned over the front cover, and caught her breath. Elegant Cyrillic writing greeted her eyes.
"Императорская Санкт-Петербургская Академия Наук," she read, "The Imperial Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences. Personal Journal of Dr. Andriy Loktev. Entries – January 1912 -" There was no completion date. Even more curious, this was not the journal of Dr. Sagadeyev, who had collected the bone bed samples.
She snapped a photo and turned the page. She was tempted to begin reading the dated entries, but knew it would be easier and better for everyone if she simply photographed the pages and transcribed them to English later. That way, the data was safe, even if the book was somehow lost or destroyed. As she flipped the pages and snapped photos, however, she noted the dates and locations. This sample wasn't from Sagadeyev's Bratskoe Vdkhr site at all, but from a site on the Kamchatka Peninsula, hundreds of miles away. She paused to read snippets here and there; the excitement of the narrative infectious. Loktev described the site in detail, down to celestial fixes of his location and topographic sketches, an ash deposit exposed at the edge of an ice field, a strange place to dig for fossils. She snapped photos and turned pages, then gasped at the sketches of the excavated sample. It was encased in pyroclastic ash, like something from the Pompeii exhibit. Only one bit of bone, a tooth exposed by recent erosion, hinted at what lay beneath. They had not removed the ash, but had encased the sample where it lay, rushed by the oncoming winter.
Dragon Dreams Page 5