“Maurie, where do we go from here?” Cross repeated, her cheeks pinking.
Herskovitz lifted his hands. “If I could, I would put Dr. Rafelson in charge of viral research at Americol. But that would only be to curse her with more managerial duties and less time in the laboratory. So, I would give her what she needs to conduct her research on her own terms, and let Dr. Jackson focus on what he is best suited for.” He peered happily at Jackson. “Administration. Marge, you and I can make sure he does it right.” Herskovitz then looked at everyone around the room, trying hard to appear serious.
The faces at the table were stony.
Jackson’s skin had turned a bluish shade of ivory. Kaye worried for a second that he might be on the verge of a heart attack. He ticked his pen in a brisk shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits. “I welcome, as always, Dr. Nilson’s and Dr. Herskovitz’s opinions. But I don’t think Americol wants a woman who may be losing her mind in charge of this particular area of research.”
Cross leaned back as if caught in a cold wind. Morgenstern’s watery gaze finally settled on Jackson with an attitude of dread expectancy.
“Dr. Rafelson, last night you spent some hours with our chief radiologist in the imaging lab. I noticed the billing request when I was picking up results from radiology this morning. I asked what the billing was for, and I was told that you were looking for God.”
Kaye managed to hold on to her pencil and not let it drop to the floor. Slowly, she brought her hands up to the tabletop. “I was having an unusual experience,” she said. “I wanted to find out what the cause might be.”
“You told the radiologist you felt God was inside your head. You had been having these experiences for some time, ever since the removal of your daughter by Emergency Action.”
“Yes,” Kaye said.
“Seeing God?”
“I’ve been experiencing certain psychological states,” Kaye said.
“Oh, come on, we’ve just been lectured by Dr. Nilson about truth and honesty. Will you deny your God three times, Dr. Rafelson?”
“What happened was private and has no influence on my work. I am appalled that it should be brought up at this meeting.”
“None of this is relevant? Other than the expense, some seven thousand dollars of unauthorized tests?”
Liz seemed thunderstruck.
“I’m willing to pay for that,” Kaye said.
Jackson lifted a paper-clipped set of invoices and rippled it in the air. “I see no evidence of your picking up the bill.”
Cross’s calm look was replaced by indignant irritation—but at whom, Kaye could not tell. “Is this true?”
Kaye stammered, “It is a personal state of mind, of scientific interest. Almost half—”
“Where will you find God next, Kaye?” Jackson asked. “In your cunning viruses, shuffling around like holy ratchets, obeying rules only you can understand, explaining everything you can’t? If God was my mentor, I’d be thrilled, it would all be so easy, but I am less fortunate. I have to rely on reason. Still, it is an honor to work with someone who can simply ask a higher authority where truth waits to be discovered.”
“Astonishing,” Nilson said. In the corner, Herskovitz sat up. His smile appeared cut in plaster.
“It is not like that,” Kaye said.
“That’s enough, Robert,” Cross said.
Jackson had not moved since beginning his accusation. He sat half-slumped in his chair. “None of us can afford to give up our scientific principles,” he said. “Especially not now.”
Cross stood abruptly. Nilson and Morgenstern looked at Jackson, then at Cross, and got to their feet, pushing back their chairs.
“I have what I need,” Cross said.
“Dr. Rafelson, is God behind evolution?” Jackson called out. “Does he hold all the answers, does he jerk us around like puppets on a string?”
“No,” Kaye said, eyes unfocused.
“Are you really sure, now, in a way none of the rest of us can be, with your special knowledge?”
“Robert, that is enough!” Cross roared. Seldom had any of them heard Cross when she was angry, and her voice was painful in its crackling intensity. She let the stack of papers in her hands slip back to the table and spill onto the floor. She glared at Jackson, then shook her fists at the ceiling. “Absolutely unbelievable!”
“Astonishing,” Nilson repeated, much quieter.
“I apologize,” Jackson said, not at all chastened. His color had returned. He looked vigorous and healthy.
“This is over,” Cross declared. “Everyone go home. Now.”
Liz helped Kaye from the room. Jackson did not deign to look at them as they left.
“What in hell is going on?” Liz asked Kaye in an undertone as they walked toward the elevator.
“I’m fine,” Kaye said.
“What in hell was La Robert on about?”
Kaye did not know where to begin.
22
OREGON
Eileen escorted Mitch down the slope on a crude stairway made of boards hammered into the dirt. As they walked through a copse of pines and up a short embankment, gaining a closer view of the camp, Mitch saw that a large excavation of about ten thousand square feet, L-shaped and covered by two joined Quonset huts, had been hidden by brush arranged over netting. From the air, the entire site would be little more than a smudge in the landscape.
“This looks like a terrorist base, Eileen. How do you conceal the heat signature?” he asked half-seriously.
“It’s going to terrorize North American anthropology,” Eileen said. “That’s for sure.”
“Now you’re scaring me,” Mitch said. “Do I have to sign an NDA or something?”
“I trust you,” Eileen said. She rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Show me now, Eileen, or just let me go home.”
“Where is home?” she asked.
“My truck,” Mitch said.
“That heap?”
Mitch mockingly implored forgiveness with his broad-fingered hands.
Eileen asked, “Do you believe in providence?”
“No,” Mitch said. “I believe in what I see with my eyes.”
“That may take a while. We’re into high-tech survey for now. We haven’t actually pulled up the specimens. We have a benefactor. He’s spending lots of money to help us. I think you’ve heard of him. Here’s his point man now.”
Mitch saw a tent flap open about fifty feet away. A lean, red-headed figure poked out, stood, and brushed dust from his hands. He shaded his eyes and looked around, then spotted the pair on the bluff and lifted his chin in greeting. Eileen waved.
Oliver Merton jogged toward them across the pale, rugged ground.
Merton was the science journalist who had dogged Kaye’s career and footsteps during the SHEVA discoveries. Mitch had never been sure whether to look on Merton as a friend or an opportunist or just a damned fine journalist. He was probably all three.
“Mitch!” Merton called. “How grand to see you again!”
Merton stuck out his hand. Mitch shook it firmly. The writer’s hand was warm and dry and confident. “My god, all Eileen told me was she was going to fetch someone with experience. How absolutely, bloody appropriate. Mr. Daney will be delighted.”