It didn't help that the conclusions of the research he was doing had already been determined. Did photographs from space show that the alarming haze around the earth was becoming worse? Did high-altitude images indicate that the South American rain forest continued to dwindle due to slash-and-burn farming practices? Were the oceans becoming so polluted that evidence of the damage could be seen from three hundred miles up? Yes. Yes. Yes. You didn't need to be a rocket scientist to come up with those conclusions. But NASA wanted more than conclusions. It wanted specifics, and even though the photographs that Albert Delaney examined would eventually be sent to other government agencies, it was his job to make the preliminary examination, just in case there was something unique in them so that NASA could get the publicity.
The shuttle's current mission was to deploy a weather satellite over the Caribbean Sea and perform various weather-related observations and experiments as well as transmit photographs. The photograph currently in front of Delaney showed a portion of Mexico's Yucatan peninsula. For several years, a blight had been attacking the palm trees in that area, and one of Delaney's jobs was to determine how far the blight had spread, something that could easily be seen in the photographs since the sick, denuded trees created a distinct, bleak pattern. The theory was that substantial loss of vegetation in the Yucatan would disturb the oxygen,'carbon-dioxide ratio in the area and affect weather patterns just as the disappearance of Brazil's rain forest did. By measuring the area of blight and factoring that information with temperature and wind variations in the Caribbean, it might be possible to predict the creation of tropical storms and the direction of hurricanes.
The blight had definitely spread much farther than photographs of the Yucatan taken last year indicated. Delaney placed a transparent, scale-model map over the photograph, aligned topographical features, recorded measurements, and continued to another photograph. Perhaps it was his need for a break in his routine. Perhaps it was his need to be surprised. For whatever reason, he found that he was examining the photographs far more diligently than usual, paying attention to matters that weren't related to the palm-tree blight.
Abruptly something troubled him, a subconsciously noticed detail, a sense that something was out of place. He set down the photograph he was examining and went back to the one he'd just finished looking at. Frowning, he concentrated. Yes, he thought. There. At once he felt a stimulating flow of adrenaline, a warming in his stomach. That small area in the bottom left corner of the photograph. Those shadows among the denuded palm trees. What were those shadows doing there?
The shadows formed almost perfect triangles and squares. But triangles and squares did not exist in nature. More, those shadows could be made only by sunlight that struck and was blocked by objects above the ground. Large objects. Tall objects. Normally, shadows didn't pose a mystery. Hills made them all the time. But these shadows were in the Yucatan's northern lowlands. The descriptive name said it all. Lowlands. There weren't any hills in that region. Even if there were, the shadows they cast would have been amorphous. But these were symmetrical. And they occupied a comparatively wide area. Delaney made quick calculations. Thirty square kilometers? In the middle of an otherwise dramatically flat section of the Yucatan rain forest? What the hell was going on?
4
'For our final report, something old discovered by something new. Computer-enhanced photographs received from the space shuttle, Atlantis, have revealed what appears to be a large area of unsuspected Mayan ruins in a remote section of Mexico's Yucatan peninsula. The rain forest in that region is so dense and inaccessible that it could take months before a preliminary assessment of the ruins can be completed, but a spokesperson for the Mexican government indicated that the apparent scope of the ruins suggests that they have the potential to rival the pyramids, palaces, and temples at legendary Chichen Itza. To paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, and so we move on - into the past. This is Dan Rather. For CBS news, good evening.'
5
The Virgin Islands.
The visitor noted that several more artifacts - figurines, ceramics, and masks - had been added to the collection. All were authentic, expensive, and illegally obtained examples of ancient Mayan craftsmanship. 'The woman disappeared.'
'What?' The old man, who'd been distracted as he attached an intravenous line to a needle in his arm, snapped his head up. 'Disappeared? You assured me that wasn't possible.'
'I believed it wasn't,' the fair-haired man said. His tone was somber. 'She was being paid so well and treated so lavishly that I thought it highly unlikely she would want to leave.'
The old man glowered, his thin body rigid with fury. Seated in a leather chair in the main cabin of his two-hundred-foot-long yacht, flanked by displays of his current passion, Mayan art, he stretched his gaunt frame to its maximum. His gaze intensified by his glasses, his pinched expression emphasized by his thick, white hair, he dominated the cabin, even though he wasn't tall. 'Human nature. Damn it, that's always been your problem. You're excellent when it comes to tactics. But your emotional range is so limited that you don't understand.'
'She was lonely,' the pleasant-faced man said. 'I anticipated that possibility. My people were watching her in case she attempted to do something foolish. Her maid, her butler, her chauffeur, the doorman at her condominium building in Manhattan - all of them worked for me. Every exit from that building was constantly watched. On those rare occasions when she had permission to leave it, she was followed.'
'And yet,' the old man rasped, his nostrils flaring with angry sarcasm,'she managed to disappear.' His white hair contrasted with the pewter tint of his skin, which in turn was emphasized by the gray of his robe, the left sleeve of which was rolled up to admit the intravenous tube leading into his arm. 'You. I blame you.' He pointed his bony, right index finger. 'Everything depends on her. How in God's name did this happen?'
The well-dressed man gestured in frustration. 'I don't know. My people don't know. It happened last night. Between two a.m. when the maid last saw her and noon when the maid decided to check on her, the woman managed to get out of the condo and the building. We have no idea how. When I learned what had happened, I decided I'd better report to you in person rather than use the telephone. I caught the first available flight.' He gestured toward the starboard windows of the cabin and the numerous other yachts in St Thomas' hotel-rimmed, sunset-tinted harbor.
The old man squinted. 'Willingness to face blame. I respect that. It's rare for a sociopath to have character. Does she have access to her bank account?'
'No. Since she was provided with all the comforts she wanted, she had no need to spend money. Hence she didn't realize that the bank statements she was shown, the ones that indicated her salary deposits, were for an account that required me to cosign for withdrawals. The money's inaccessible to her.'