"She studies all that artsy stuff," he said to Green. "She'll know." He turned toward Con. "Honey, what should I do with my big shell? Pete thinks I should stick it in a vault."
"I'm just saying . . ." injected Green.
"I know. I know," interrupted Con's father. "I'll keep it hush-hush till you-know-when."
"John, I don't think you should be discussing . . ."
"She's my daughter for Christ's sake! It's only a god damned shell! Now, honey, whaddaya think?"
"About what, Daddy?"
"My shell! I was talking about my shell. I want to show it off. How should I do it?"
"I'd treat it like a sculpture and put it on a pedestal."
"Yeah, a fancy marble column," said her father.
"Actually," said Con, "a simple stone rectangle would show it better. Something rough to contrast with the shell's smoothness. Perhaps, stone with fossils in it."
"Damn, you're clever!" said Con's father, pouring her a glass of champagne. "Isn't she clever, Pete? She's gonna study art history."
"Then she's fortunate to have a wealthy father," said Green sardonically.
"Oh it'll be useful, Pete. Very useful when I make my acquisitions. I don't want any crap. Only the best stuff."
"What acquisitions, Daddy?"
Green shot Greighton a hard, cautionary glance. "Oh, you'll find out later, honey." He turned his attention back to Green. "I named her 'Constance' to keep the money rolling in. There's a family legend. Constance Cle . .."
"Oh, don't start on Great-great-great-grandmother," said Con, eager to leave. "You'll bore him to tears." John Greighton gave his daughter an irritated look, but he stopped his story. Refilling his glass, he held it up. "A toast! To generations of good fortune and to my future in the past." Con simply looked at her glass. "Daddy, I don't..."
"Drink!" bellowed her father. "And stop calling me 'Daddy,' it sounds babyish. You'll be eighteen in a month."
Con made a point of gulping down the champagne. Setting her empty glass on the table, she said in a con-trolled voice, "Then what should I call you?"
"I think 'sir' would be good," said Greighton, as he refilled his daughter's glass. Con drained it also.
" ' Sir?' That's more than a little old-fashioned," re-plied Con.
"Eighteenth century to be exact," said her father, who seemed to think he was being witty. "You'll find out why soon enough."
"Can't you tell me now, sir?"
Greighton didn't seem to notice the sarcasm in Con's voice. "No, no, that wouldn't do. Would it, Pete?" Con looked at Peter Green. He did not seem intoxi-cated at all. His cold pale eyes stared back, studying her and making her uneasy. As Con felt the first effects of the wine, she regretted drinking it. She sensed it was im-portant to remain in control of herself.
"You looked like you were going somewhere," Green said evenly, as he refilled her glass.
"No," she replied quickly. "I was just out for some air."
"You had a very purposeful stride."
"I did? I hadn't noticed."
"I notice things like that," replied Green. "I'm very observant." The glass trembled in Con's hand. When she set it down untouched, he said, "You mustn't waste that wine, it's the 2047 vintage." Con took a dutiful sip.
"Finish it," said Green in a quiet, but commanding, voice. He had a faint smile as Con drank the wine.
"Sit down," he said. "Relax. We're not keeping you from something?"
"No," said Con, as she took a seat.
For a while, they were silent. "So, what do you think of our guide?" Green finally asked. "Should I keep him on?"
"Oh, Rick? He's okay."
"He keeping you safe? There are things around here that are dangerous to see."
"You mean dinosaurs?"
"What else could I mean?"
"I wouldn't know," said Con quietly.
"You're John's daughter, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
"Rick will keep me safe."
"I certainly hope so."
17
AFTER WASHING THE DINNER DISHES AND SCRUBBING THE
pans, Rick strolled to the seashore. He hoped to encounter Con, but he watched the sunset alone. He was still walking the beach when he ran into Joe, sitting on a rock.
"How you doing, Rick?" asked Joe.
"Okay," said Rick. They had barely spoken since the morning. "Enjoy your day off?" he asked for small talk.
"There's not much to do here," replied Joe. "I mostly stayed out of people's way. I hope you have something planned for tomorrow."
"I was thinking about heading south. South America was, I mean is, sauropod country. How far can that plane go?"
"She can cruise forever, as far as I know," replied Joe. "But she's not built for speed. A trip like that would take several days."
"Maybe we could camp."
"Camp? Aren't you getting carried away? You don't need to disappear altogether. Anyway, we don't have camping gear. This is supposed to be a resort."
'It was just a thought," said Rick. "We'll follow the coast south, but keep it to a day trip."
"Sounds good to me."
Rick looked at the darkening sea and sighed. "I'm going to miss this place."
"Speak for yourself," replied Joe.
Joe wandered back to camp, leaving Rick on the beach. He lingered there to watch the moon rise. Con never ap-peared.
CON ATE HER breakfast, eagerly awaiting Rick. Her fa-ther had yet to make an appearance. Probably hangover, she thought. Naturally, Sara was absent, too. Only James was at the table.
"You don't have to hang around for my sake," she told him. "I don't think Daddy will be up for a while."
"I do have some things to take care of," said James. "If you truly don't mind . .."
"Not at all," said Con. "If you see Rick, tell him I'd like to speak to him. About today's trip, that is."
"Certainly."
When Rick appeared a few minutes later, Con grinned and said in an excited whisper, "Come to my room, I've got something to show you! I wanted to show you last night, but I got waylaid by Daddy and Green. Daddy's definitely in with Green. He wants me to help him pick his plunder."
"Slow down, slow down," whispered Rick. "They let you in on their plan?"
"Of course not," said Con. "But Daddy was drunk, and he let stuff out. God, Green's a creep. Scary too. But that's not my news. You've got to come to my room!"
Rick looked around, but spotted no one. "Okay," he whispered.
They walked rapidly to Con's chambers. Con pulled the curtains across the colonnade. "That will give us pri-vacy," she said.
"Doesn't this look suspicious?" asked Rick. "I mean, both of us gone and the curtains pulled?"
"Then they definitely won't peek inside," replied Con with a giggle. While Rick tried to recover his composure, Con walked into the back room. She pulled the dresser from the wall to reveal the hole in the plaster. "Ta da!" she said. "A secret passageway."
"Where does it go?"
"It's so neat!" said Con excitedly. "You're going to love it!" Without further ado, she got on her hands and knees and disappeared into the hole.
Rick followed and found her standing in the lighted corridor. "Will you please tell me what's this about?"
"I found an elevator to the top of the mesa," she said, already walking down the passageway. "And there's a room . . . wait till you see it!"
Rick followed Con until they arrived at the room with the viewscreens. "You're right, Con. This is fantastic! A paleogeologist's dream!"
Con beamed. "I knew you'd like it. It must be some kind of observatory." Rick walked over to one of the images of Earth. "This is so clear!" He pointed to an area where a huge bay entered the interior of the continent. "We're located here, near the northern coast. This is where I thought we'd go today," he said, tracing their journey south.
"It doesn't look much like America."
"Well, a lot of it's underwater in this time. That pen-insula there will someday be Mexico." Rick's attention turned to a chart next to the satellite image. "This is cool," he said. "Here's the same view shown as a geo-logical map. It shows the sea depth and . . ." He paused, looking perplexed. "That's strange."