“Yes, it does. Apparently, the initial group that will go won’t be very large. They’ll be very isolated for the greater part of the dig. To achieve their mission they’ll have to be self-sufficient in an environment and conditions unfamiliar to them. This expedition would make a perfect practical medium to confirm some of my research theories.”
“That might be so, but surely these people aren’t going to be on the continent for over a year-and-a-half, which is the suggested duration of a mission to Mars. And besides, these people aren’t astronauts.”
“I know that. But like the crew being proposed for the Mars mission, they’re a small team of professionals, thrown together in less than desirable circumstances. As individuals they’ll no doubt have differing priorities regarding the excavation and its goals. Regardless of these priorities, they’re going to have to work together. I believe this is an opportunity we shouldn’t miss.
“From discussions I’ve had with Dr. Knight, the Australian team is going to be at the actual site for around eight weeks. This should be more than ample time to conduct my research.” Michela placed a brief in front of Dr. Reilly. “This is an executive summary of what my study would cover. I’ve also attached a more detailed overview of the project and its outcomes.”
Dr. Reilly quickly scanned the executive summary. “Supposing I agree to your submission. What are the costs involved?”
Michela nervously swallowed. “The Flinders Museum website has established a page that specifically relates to the expedition. The site is run by the head of the Flinders Museum team, Dr. Allison Shaunessy, and she’s set the funding for the expedition at half a million dollars.”
Dr. Reilly’s eyes widened. “Half a million dollars. There’s no conceivable way the Institute could afford such a large amount.”
“I understand, but the Institute wouldn’t be asked to provide all the funds. According to the Flinders Museum website, two-fifths of the money has already been donated. I was wondering whether the Institute could afford to fund the remainder.”
Dr. Reilly stroked his chin in thought. “Even three hundred thousand dollars is a large sum, especially after we lost the first Mars spaceship to that damned terrorist plot. If this second attempt hadn’t been a global undertaking, it’s unlikely any one country could have covered the costs.”
Michela nodded. “Financial circumstances aren’t the best at the moment. But is there any possibility of funding?”
“I don’t know. But you’ve picked your time well. Our weekly global status report is this afternoon. I’ll put your proposal on the agenda but I can’t make any promises.” Dr. Reilly went to the door and opened it. “I’ll advise you of the outcome in the next couple of days.”
“Thank you very much.”
Michela went back to her office. She dropped her notes on her desk and pressed the button on her intercom. “Frederick, can you come in here for a moment?”
Michela had barely settled herself at her desk before Frederick strolled into her office. “How did it go?”
“It’s as I suspected. It’s a great opportunity that might never see the light of day because of lack of funding,” she said. “I’m beat. There’s nothing here that I can’t do from home, so if you need me that’s where I’ll be for the next few days.”
Sure, boss. You do look as if you’ve been burning the candle at both ends. Give me a call if you need anything.” Michela smiled as Frederick left the room. If anything, he understood the work she did, unlike Natalie.
As she packed her briefcase and grabbed her digital tablet, Michela hoped the break from work would provide an opportunity for her and Natalie to reconcile their differences. The silence between them had gone on longer than ever before and this made her unsteady.
Her hopes of reconciliation were dashed when she arrived home to find a coldly succinct note from Natalie, stating she’d be at a fashion shoot for the next few days. She picked up Natalie’s cell phone from the counter and shook her head. It was obvious that Natalie was still in no mood to talk. Michela put the note and phone back on the counter, took a hot shower, and got some well-deserved sleep.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Michela’s slumber was interrupted by the warbling tune from her cell phone. Barely awake, she answered, “Natalie, is that you? What time is it?”
“Dr. DeGrasse. I’m sorry to bother you. It’s Dr. Reilly’s secretary. He wishes to speak with you. Could you hold please?”
Michela vigorously rubbed her face.
“Michela, glad to hear you’re taking a bit of a break,” Dr. Reilly said. “I thought I’d contact you regarding your proposal. I’ve spoken with the other Committee members and they agree with it.”
Michela’s hopes sank at Dr. Reilly’s pause. “Let me guess. They agree to the proposal in principle but funding is impossible.”
Dr. Reilly chuckled softly. “Such pessimism at your age. The news isn’t all good, but the Committee has agreed to fund a fifth of the expedition costs. You can speak with my PA regarding the e-funds transfer. You’ll also need to submit the findings of your research to the Committee when you return—that is if the remaining monies are found.”
One-fifth still left the expedition two hundred thousand short. Still, it’s better than nothing. “Thank you, Dr. Reilly. I’ll keep you informed.”
Michela dragged herself out of bed and walked to her office. She sat down, picked up her digital tablet, and dictated an e-mail to Sarah Knight, who she’d been in touch with over the last few days.
Hello Sarah,
I’ve some good news and some bad news. I’ve spoken with my Director, and the committee’s agreed to provide $100,000.
Last time I checked the Flinders Museum website, they’d raised $200,000. Do you know whether they’ve had any further success? I’m at my wits’ end here. If the remainder can’t be funded out of Australia, I don’t know whether the dig will ever get off the ground.
Keep me posted and I’ll do the same.
Regards,
Michela
Michela sent the e-mail and then took a hot shower. As the water cascaded down her broad shoulders and over her body and sculpted legs, her thoughts turned to Natalie. Whenever Natalie was on a shoot she’d phone at least once a day, whether she had her own cell or not. The lack of communication with Natalie was unsettling.
After her shower she checked the phone and was disappointed by the absence of messages. Sighing, she retreated back into her office. Ignoring a number of work e-mails that needed her attention, she eagerly opened a new message in her inbox.
Hi Michela,
I bet you’re surprised at the quick reply. I’m currently on my way home to Australia from Antarctica and I was busy sending some e-mails when your message came through.
That’s great news. I know your Institute’s donation isn’t going to get the project off the ground, but at least the group’s more than half way to its goal. Have you spoken with the team leader in Australia yet? Her name is Dr. Allison Shaunessy and apparently what she doesn’t know about Finlayson isn’t worth knowing. In case you haven’t, I’ll attach her work e-mail at the end of this message.
Re the remaining funds, have you approached the Finlayson family? I was speaking with my ex-girlfriend a few days ago and she’s a computer geek. She mentioned something about the family being a giant in Information Technology in the States. Maybe they’d be interested in providing a financial donation.
Anyway, I’ve got to go. There’s a big party tonight for the homeward-bound expeditionary and I don’t want to miss out on free beer. Keep me posted.
Regards,
Sarah
Michela smiled at Sarah’s casual reference to her ex-girlfriend. “Hmm, obviously family.” Getting back to Sarah’s suggestion, Michela opened a browser.
“Let’s see what the business links bring up.” Michela entered the business listings area and uttered Finlayson.
“I’ll be. Go to Finlayson Enterprises, annual report.” Michela scanned the
screen. “Sarah, you were right. A top five hundred company no less, and look at those profits. So who is it that I should be talking to about a donation?” Her voice command took her to the Board of Directors and Michela laughed at what she found. “A company this size headed by a woman. I’ll bet there aren’t too many of those.” She touched the photograph that defaulted to Charlotte Elizabeth Finlayson’s abridged biography.
Michela shook her head. “The best schools, married and divorced, chair of a number of charities and still running a worldwide company. I wonder how she manages. A home in the country as well. Now that would be nice.”
Charlotte Finlayson’s contact details were at the bottom of the page. Taking a gamble, Michela picked up her cell and punched in the long distance number.
“Good morning. Finlayson Enterprises. May I help you?”
Michela was so surprised at actually reaching a person that she was momentarily speechless. “I’m sorry. Good morning, ma’am. My name is Dr. Michela DeGrasse.”
“Good morning, Dr. DeGrasse. I’m Virginia Blaine, Ms. Finlayson’s personal aide.”
“Please excuse my surprise, but I’m amazed at actually getting through to her offices,” Michela said.
Ms. Blaine softly laughed. “Ms. Finlayson believes she should be contactable to anyone who has a sound reason to speak with her. I filter any undesirable calls she might receive. You’re not one of those, are you, Doctor?”
“I assure you I’m not. I understand how busy she must be but I was wondering if it would be possible to actually speak with Ms. Finlayson about a small matter.”
“May I ask what you wish to speak to her about?”
“Yes. I was hoping to talk with her about her ancestor, Eric Robert Finlayson, and the recent discovery down in Antarctica.”
“You’re not a reporter are you?” Ms. Blainey asked.
“No, I’m not. I work for the International Space Research Institute, in Houston, Texas.”
“Would you please hold the line?”
Michela’s ears were at once filled with a beautiful piece of classical music. As she tried to place the melody she was interrupted.
“Good morning, Dr. DeGrasse.” Charlotte Finlayson’s tones were warm and yet businesslike. “I’m between meetings and have very little time. What is it you wish to know about Eric Finlayson?”
“Good morning, ma’am. I’m a psychologist currently working with the International Space Research Institute.”
“Yes, you mentioned that to my PA.”
Michela couldn’t be sure, but she was almost certain that Charlotte Finlayson was sassing her. “I’ve no doubt you’re aware of the recent possible discovery of proof of Finlayson’s expedition to Antarctica. What you may not be aware of is that there’s a team in Australia attempting to organize an archaeological dig at the site. I’d like to be part of that expedition and was hoping to speak with you regarding any interest you may have.”
“You’re not suggesting a woman of my age would be interested in going down to Antarctica are you? No, of course you’re not.” Charlotte chuckled. “I’d like to discuss this further, however, I’m expecting a group of overseas delegates in my office at any minute. Hold the line will you?”
Before Michela could respond her head was again filled with classical music.
“Dr. DeGrasse, are you there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Virginia tells me I have a free couple of hours on Saturday afternoon. Do you think it would be possible for you to come up and discuss this matter with me? I’ll have you picked up from the airport if you like.”
Michela barely managed to contain a loud whoop of excitement. “Certainly, ma’am. What time would suit you? So I can book my flights.”
“I’ll put you back on with Virginia. She’s so much better at that than me. I’ll see you Saturday then.”
After agreeing on the arrangements with Virginia, Michela checked the net for a low-cost flight to New York. She would fly out on Saturday morning and return early the following day. Michela quickly e-mailed Sarah with her news and then composed an e-mail to Dr. Shaunessy.
Hello Dr. Shaunessy,
We’ve not met. My name is Dr. Michela DeGrasse and I’m a psychologist working with the International Space Research Institute in Houston.
I read with interest the recent discovery by Sarah Knight of possible evidence of the Finlayson expedition. I contacted Sarah and she advised me you were attempting to raise funds to support an expedition, but from the progressive totals on your website, it would seem that you’re having difficulty in securing the funding.
I’m writing to advise you I’ve managed to secure $100,000 worth of funding out of my Institute. Understandably this still leaves you $200,000 short, however I have a meeting this Saturday with the CEO of Finlayson Enterprises and I’m hoping she’ll be interested in financially supporting the expedition. I’d like to discuss this with you and I’d be very grateful if you could contact me.
Regards,
Dr. Michela DeGrasse
Michela stretched as she read the e-mail. Satisfied, she touched the send icon on the screen. Now I think it’s time for some breakfast.
Breakfast was a quick affair and it wasn’t long before Michela grabbed a progress report from the Institute off her coffee table and flopped onto one of her living room chairs. She barely finished the first page when a high pitched sound from her office heralded incoming mail. She went into her office.
Good morning Dr. DeGrasse,
I’ve just finished reading your e-mail and am excited and grateful beyond words. We’d really hit a dead end here with funds. Notwithstanding, we’ve managed to procure some fairly high tech equipment from interested parties, so at least that’s something.
One of the things I really hate about e-mail is the inability to include a tone of any sorts in what I’m trying to write. Having said that, I really don’t know how else to pose this question, so I’ll be blunt. I’m very grateful for your assistance in securing the additional funds. But why is someone from a space research institute interested in an archaeological dig?
Anyway, I must get back to business. Things to do and not enough time—I look forward to receiving your reply.
Regards,
Dr. Shaunessy
Michela wryly smiled at the straightforwardness of Dr. Shaunessy’s message. Realizing she’d been less than direct in explaining her interest in the project, she set about dictating a response.
Good afternoon Dr. Shaunessy,
Thanks for your reply. I hope you don’t think me too forward but Dr. DeGrasse is my mother’s name, although she’s a medical doctor, not a psychologist. I’d prefer it if you’d call me by my first name—Michela.
This takes me to the question from your last message. As I’ve mentioned, I’m a psychologist with the International Space Research Institute. My work involves the psychological group dynamics of how humans respond to extreme and isolated environments. This study is primarily focused on identifying possible problems likely to be encountered by astronauts during space travel, and remedying them before any spacecraft leaves the ground. Currently I’m undertaking research on problem-solving and decision-making, at the small group level in stressful environments. This includes reviewing decisions made in isolation of normally established support mechanisms a team might fall back on. I’m also looking for the presence of possible triggers or warning signs that might indicate a possible team breakdown.
In terms of extreme environments and isolation, Antarctica has previously been used as a test bed to undertake similar research. I’m sure you’re aware that the International Space Research Institute is currently working on a manned mission to Mars. The information I’m collecting will be used to aid the astronauts who will crew that mission.
From the perspective of your archaeological dig, you’ll be working in isolation, in an extreme and unfamiliar environment, with a multi-disciplined team who haven’t all worked together before. This would provi
de me with an invaluable opportunity to validate the theoretical side of my research.
Again, my apologies for not clarifying this in my initial e-mail and hopefully this brief explanation makes matters a little more clear. I’ll be flying to New York this Saturday and hopefully I’ll have some good news for you after my meeting with the Finlayson Enterprises CEO.
Regards,
Michela DeGrasse
After sending her reply into the Internet ether, Michela headed back to her living room and the progress report that awaited her.
MICHELA PUT THE finishing touches to the presentation for the following morning when the phone rang. “Frederick, is that you?” She had left a message on his voice mail, advising him she was going to New York.
“No, it’s Natalie. Were you expecting to hear from him?”
Michela cringed at Natalie’s clipped tones. “Yes. I wanted to let him know I’d be out of town for a couple of days.”
“Isn’t that convenient. And here I was hoping I could talk with you when I return tomorrow morning. So, when will you be home?”
“I should be home by mid-morning Sunday.”
“Fine, I’ll see you then.”
Michela winced at the abrupt end to the conversation. Before she could give it any further thought, the phone rang again. “Hello, Frederick? Listen, I’ve got to go to New York for a couple of days. Could you keep abreast of things? Yes. There may be the opportunity for some funding. I’ll fill you in when I return. Thanks.”
She gathered her notes and headed to her room to pack for the day ahead.
VIRGINIA BLAINEY MOTIONED to the waiting area of the CEO’s offices. “Take a seat, Dr. DeGrasse. I’ll let Ms. Finlayson know you’re here.”
Michela picked up a copy of the Company’s quarterly report from a side table and made herself comfortable. She scanned the preliminary information and turned to a page containing a photograph of the CEO. Charlotte Finlayson was an imposing, yet elegant woman, her soft green eyes radiating comfort and trust. Before Michela could study the picture any further, the door across the room opened.
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