by Richard Edde
The Altai research was Harry’s big break and his chance at national notoriety in academic circles. With a monumental discovery to his credit, he could write his own ticket--a full professorship, a departmental chairmanship, a huge research grant. His career would be set. He would be able to settle back and enjoy life, maybe have a family. He had worked long and difficult hours to get where he was and, if the Mongolian research project was productive, he might even succeed Professor Kesler. It would be a dream come true.
The expedition flew on a chartered jet to Beijing and, there, boarded the Trans-Mongolian Railway to Kastum. From Kastum, it was another three-day journey by camel and horse to the expedition site Professor Kesler had chosen.
***
Breakfast over, Harry sat in the command tent and studied the map’s layout of the diggings over a cup of coffee. The digging site was represented on the map by a grid, made up of lines that conformed to one-meter-by-one-meter squares on the ground. The site had been surveyed using GPS, and the grid, constructed with stakes and twine, had taken the better part of a week to set up. The resulting grid had been transferred to the map and the expedition computer. One worker was assigned a square on the grid, shown how to dig into the earth, sift its contents, then make appropriate notations in a log. Twice each day, the log’s entries were typed into the computer and, in so doing, an accurate inventory of all unearthed items was made as they were found. Satisfied that the morning’s work was going as scheduled, he settled back in his chair and waited for Dixie. They usually had their morning conference shortly after she made her rounds of the work site. He looked up as she sank into a chair next to him.
“Good morning, Harry,” she said. She wore jeans and a denim shirt, along with brown hiking boots. He noticed her hair needed combing and, with her shirt tucked into her jeans, it enhanced her buxom figure.
“Yes, it is,” he said. “How goes the camp?”
“Everyone is settled in for now. Li is down at section H9, called down there about something.”
“A problem?”
“I dunno. We should know soon enough. Here comes a runner.” Dixie pointed out the door of the command tent to a short Mongolian boy making his way toward them. He wore cutoff shorts, a white tee shirt, and sandals. The boy came to a stop, out of breath, at the tent’s entrance and waited.
“Yes?” Harry said, approaching the boy.
“Dr. Harry, come quick. Now. Li needs.” The boy took Harry’s arm and pulled him toward the diggings.
Harry ran behind the boy, squinting past him, trying to make out the commotion at section H9. Dixie followed.
At the site, they found Li bent over in a square hole and talking rapidly in an unknown dialect to a worker. Li crawled out of the hole when he noticed Harry standing above him.
Harry wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a large bandana. “What have you got, Li?”
“Jump down there and take a look,” Li said. “Yen Po uncovered it just now. I thought you ought to have a look before we removed it.”
Harry scrambled into the pit. “Something interesting, I hope.”
He noticed a piece of cloth nestled in the loamy soil at the bottom of the hole. As he scraped dirt away, an olive green object came into view. Meticulously, he worked with a trowel, exposing more of it until it was in full view. It was some sort of canvas and leather cap.
“Get a camera down here,” Harry called to Li. “And a plastic container, as well.”
More digging with the trowel revealed the cap’s entirety. When the camera arrived, Harry took several dozen photographs then carefully placed the cap in the container.
“Dixie, take this up to the command tent and wait for me. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Dixie climbed out of the hole and made her way to the command tent with the container.
Harry turned to Li whose face bore a deep frown. “Li, I want you to move the workers to the sectors immediately adjacent to H9. That would be H8, H10, G8, G9, and G10, along with I8, I9, and I10. Have them carefully sift through all layers. Maybe there’s more down there to find. I’ll be in the command tent if you need me.”
Li nodded and began moving workers to the respective sections as Harry moved to join Dixie. He found her examining the cap with a magnifying glass, gently brushing dirt from its surface with a brush.
“Christ, Harry, look at this.” Dixie moved out of the way and handed the magnifying glass to her boss. “Can you believe it?”
Harry bent over the container, studied the cap for a while, and then let out a low whistle. He stared at a pilot’s cap, drab olive green in color, with padded earflaps. On the front of the cap was an insignia. A red star with a yellow hammer and sickle in its center.
“What do you make of it,” she said.
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” he said. “It’s a Russian cap. The insignia belongs to the old Soviet Union before its breakup in 1991. I wonder what it’s doing here in these mountains.” Harry put the magnifying glass on the table and eased his tall frame into a chair.
Dixie slumped into a chair next to him, shaking her head. “How do you know it’s from the old Soviet Union?”
“I took a Russian history course in college. And I remember seeing old Gorbachev wearing a hat with that insignia on it.”
“Well, Russia is right over there, beyond those peaks, so it could have made its way here with tourists or other travelers. Or the military. Could just be someone’s memento that got lost. It is interesting though.”
“Military? I don’t think the Russian army or air force would be conducting maneuvers in Mongolia.”
Harry opened a soft drink, passed it to Dixie, then retrieved one for himself. Back in his chair, he sat in silence for a few minutes, allowing the discovery to sink into his brain. It was an odd discovery, no doubt about it. What he had learned about Mongolia in preparation for the expedition was that the country came under Soviet influence, resulting in the proclamation of the Mongolian People’s Republic as a Soviet satellite state in 1924. It was only after the breakdown of communist regimes in Europe in late 1989, when Mongolia saw its own Democratic Revolution in early 1990. It led to a multi-party system, a new constitution in 1992, and transition to a market economy. He rubbed his temples, attempting to relieve the built-up pressure there.
A Soviet Union military cap in Mongolia. Harry couldn’t fathom the significance of the find, if indeed, there was a significance. It could have found its way here on the head of a Mongolian yak or sheep herder, bought at some bazaar in any village out here on the steppe. Or maybe the Russians were in Mongolia at some point in the past. He made a note to ask Li what he knew.
“Well, I asked Li to make sure the adjacent sectors are dug up and sifted, just in case there’s something else interesting,” he said. “Certainly not what we came to find, however. I came all this way to hopefully find some hominid fossils not twentieth-century trash.”
***
Dixie sat in her tent, entering the morning’s activities and the finding of the Russian cap into the expedition journal. Finished, she allowed her mind to wander and consider Harry. His personality was certainly different from hers. Harry was quietly sensitive but at times, forceful. She was outgoing, talkative, energetic. He was a private person, at times socially uncomfortable. She wanted to be the life of the party, was considerate of others, and group oriented. Harry was focused on his research while she hoped for a family in the future. It was no secret to any of his students that his academic career was Harry’s primary interest. No, even though she was drawn to him, they were too dissimilar in temperament and personalities to ever hit it off. They got along well at the university and on the expedition because she played the submissive role around him. Even though she called him Harry, he was still her professor and team leader and she was focused on obtaining her doctorate.
She was raised as the privileged daughter of a Wall Street banker and lived on Long Island in a big house with two servants. She attended Smi
th College on her father’s money. During her freshman year, while pledging a sorority, she became a pot-smoking liberal. The marijuana led to stronger drugs, supplied by several sorority sisters, and the small group used to snort cocaine in each other’s rooms. Some of her sorority sisters were lesbians but that did not interest her. She lost interest in college, lost a lot of weight, and argued with her parents all the time. After she flunked her courses that spring, her father was at the end of his rope and, at the suggestion of their family physician, had her tested for drugs and that ended her semester-long party.
Reluctantly, she agreed to go to the Betty Ford Clinic for rehab. However, she didn’t excel in the program until tragedy struck. Her younger brother, Bill, was killed in an automobile accident. The shock devastated her. She had held Bill on a pedestal. He was a special brother. He knew of her struggles with drugs but was never judgmental, although he had tried to get her to stop. He was handsome, funny, and she loved him more than she loved herself. At his funeral, she broke down and sobbed for a week, never venturing out of the house. But, in the end, she vowed to begin again in earnest. Returning to Smith on probation, she attacked her studies with renewed zeal.
The first semester back she struggled with her studies, having to relearn how to learn. Then she made the Dean’s Honor Roll the remainder of her time in college and, upon graduation, moved to San Francisco to get away from family and the sad memories. She enrolled in the graduate school at California Pacific University. Interested in biology, she elected to study human evolution and anthropology. When she took a course taught by Dr. Olson, she immersed herself in it and flourished under his tutelage. She became Dr. Olson’s understudy and, although she thought him rude and callous, she later found him to be highly intelligent and very shy. For four years, she worked hard trying to write a doctoral thesis that he would be proud of. Now on the threshold of finishing and defending it before the doctoral committee, she felt the butterflies forming in the pit of her stomach. She no longer possessed the confidence she had at the beginning of her graduate studies. That uneasy feeling sometimes gnawed at her insides, turning her stomach into a churning knot. To complicate matters, she’d noticed a change in Dr. Olson. He didn’t look her directly in the eye like he used to, he spoke in soft tones, and he seemed awkward in her presence. Something in his life had dramatically changed him.
Later in the afternoon, as she and Harry sat in the command tent, planning the next day’s activities with Li, she heard a commotion at the dig. Workers were shouting and waving their arms in obvious excitement. Something else had been found.
Dixie joined Harry and Li in sprinting to the dig site.
Chapter 3
Harry was the first to arrive at the diggings. His lungs burned from the exertion. The workers were crowded around the large hole, all talking with animated gestures in a dialect he did not understand.
Amidst the confusion, Li arrived, took control of the situation, and calmed the crowd. He pointed into the hole. “Look,” he said to Harry as Dixie arrived.
She peered into the giant crater as she held Li’s arm for balance.
“What the hell is it?” Harry said. He jumped into the hole and pushed a worker out of his way.
“What does it look like?” Li asked. “They came across a propeller first, kept digging, eventually uncovering the whole thing. It’s an airplane motor, Harry. A damned airplane motor.”
“From a plane crash? Maybe that’s where the pilot’s cap came from.”
Harry crawled out of the crater, heart pounding. He was still breathing hard from the run. Damn, he thought, no bones or anything of scientific value. Just a damned airplane motor.
“Li, I want that thing pulled up here where we can get a good look at it.”
With the order, Li shouted instructions to the workers who went back into the compound and retrieved a block and tackle. Fixing it to the motor, they began to lift the large beast from its resting place. For the first ten minutes, the thing didn’t budge then, with a group of workers using pry bars, the motor popped loose. After thirty minutes of hard labor, they were able to hoist the motor from the hole and set it on the ground next to Harry, Li, and Dixie.
It was a large, rusted affair. The engine cowling had been ripped apart exposing a myriad of multicolored wires and hoses. Harry noticed engraved on the motor block a series of letters and numbers partially covered with dirt. Dixie rubbed a finger over the lettering brushing the dirt away.
“Russian,” Li said. “Belonged to a Russian plane, obviously.” He sat on the ground, watching Harry examine the rest of the motor. “I wonder what kind of plane it was? It must have crashed up here some time ago. The pilot’s cap you said was Soviet, before 1991--”
“It’s a big motor,” Dixie interrupted.
“--probably from a multi-engine aircraft,” Li continued.
The cacophony produced by the workers had dwindled to a quiet buzz around them. Several of the men ventured close and touched the wrecked motor as if they found it enchanted. They murmured among themselves, seemingly transfixed by the sight.
“If that is true, then there is another engine around here as well as the rest of the plane. The fuselage shouldn’t be far, I would think,” Harry said, still inspecting the wreckage. “Well, we do have a mystery, don’t we? The question is do we continue to search for this plane? We came here to look for human ancestors not investigate a plane crash that happened years ago.”
“I suggest we discuss it over lunch and give these workers a break. They have been doing some heavy work this morning.” Dixie smiled and pointed to the mess tent. “My stomach’s growling.”
“Good idea,” Harry said. “Li, dismiss the workers for lunch and join us in fifteen minutes. Come on, Dixie.”
***
Lunch was a hurried affair of cold cuts and fruit, washed down with bottled water. Harry, Dixie, and Li sat around a long table alone, the lunch crowd having returned to their afternoon duties. A map of the site was spread out on the table in front of them. Harry eased back in his chair and let out a long, slow sigh. “Well, what do you both think?” he said, addressing no one in particular. Then, turning to Dixie, he asked, “Dixie? What’s your opinion? What should be our next move?”
Dixie smiled softly, showing bright, white teeth. “Since you asked, Harry, this cap and motor business is just a distraction from the main reason we’re here. We came on a research expedition, thinking there might be hominid fossils in this region of Mongolia. Soon, the colder weather will force us to shut down for the year and return home. We lose precious time if we divert our attention from our main purpose.” She smiled again and ran a hand through her hair.
Harry nodded. “Li, what’s your opinion?”
Before Li could answer, the satellite phone laying on the table started ringing. Harry picked it up.
“The professor,” he said, glancing at the Caller ID. He hit the TALK button. “Yes, Professor? How are you? Close to midnight in San Francisco, isn’t it, sir?...Yes, sir...They’re sitting right here...Just a minute while I put you on speaker.” Harry pushed a speaker’s phone jack into the satellite phone and continued. “There, Professor, we can all talk now.”
Dr. Julius Kesler’s voice boomed over the speaker. “Yes, it’s closer to one in the morning here. I waited up past my bedtime to be able to talk to you all. Harry, you and Dixie haven’t killed each other yet?” Kesler’s husky laugh caused Dixie to shake her head.
“Professor,” she said, “he beats me every day. Make him stop, please.”
“Professor,” Harry interjected, “if I don’t beat her, she sleeps all day.”
The three at the table laughed and Dixie punched Harry on the arm.
“Now down to business,” Kesler said. “How’s the project coming along? I want an update. You’ve been there a week now. Finding anything of interest?”
Dixie and Li looked at Harry, as if wondering what he would say to the Professor.
“We found something, all
right, sir. A wrecked motor from an old Soviet plane that crashed up here some time ago. The three of us have been discussing our next moves.”
“You mean an airplane engine? How’d you come across something like that?” Kesler’s voice sounded irritable over the periodic static on the phone.
“Just this morning the workers uncovered it in section H9. Along with a Russian pilot cap.”
“Sounds interesting, Harry. But leave it for another time. The fall weather is approaching, and the snow will start falling in a few months. We will have to close down then. I want as much digging done as possible by the first snowflakes. So forget the plane. I’ll call next week for another progress report.”
“We understand, Professor,” Dixie said. She patted Harry on the shoulder.
“No problem,” Harry added. “We’ll keep plodding along.”
There was a pause before Kesler spoke again. “Harry, I got a call this morning from a doctor in Chicago. Your mother--”
“What’s wrong, Professor? She ill?”
“Nothing serious at the present. The doctor was looking for you and when I told him you were out of the country, well, he confided in me. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. What’s her problem?”
Dixie and Li rose and waved as they filed out of the mess tent, leaving Harry alone with Dr. Kesler, who continued. “The doc said she has a touch of congestive heart failure. Apparently, your brother is flying in from New York.”
“Good. Max will check on everything. Did the doctor mention my father? Is he there at the house?”
“Didn’t mention your dad, Harry. I will call later and give your brother your sat phone number so maybe he can call you when he gets in.”