“Do you really believe that?” Mitch asked.
“Oh, come on, Mitch. I don’t know what to believe.”
Mitch’s stomach worked over the meal with no conviction. “You should at least tell the students that they need to expand the perimeter,” he said. “There could very well be other bodies around, maybe within a few hundred yards.”
Fitz made a provisional moue of interest. “We’ve talked about it. But everybody wants a piece of the main dig, so nobody was enthusiastic about fanning out,” she said.
“You feel something?” Eileen asked Mitch. She leaned forward, her voice going mock-sepulchral. “Can you read these bones?”
Fitz laughed.
“Just a hunch,” Mitch said, wincing. Then, more quietly, “Probably not a very good one.”
“Will Daney continue to pay if we dawdle and poke around a couple of more days?” Fitz asked.
“Merton thinks he’s patient and he’ll pay plenty,” Eileen said. “He knows Daney better than any of us.”
“This could become every bit as bad as archaeology in Israel,” said Fitz, a natural pessimist. “Every site loaded with political implications. Do you think Emergency Action will come in and shut us down, using NAGPRA as an excuse?”
Mitch pondered, slow deliberation being about all he was capable of this late, this worn down by the day. “I don’t think they’re that crazy,” he said. “But the whole world’s a tinderbox.”
“Maybe we should toss in a match,” Eileen said.
26
BALTIMORE
Kaye woke to the sound of the bedside phone dweedling, sat straight up in bed, pulled her hair away from her face, and peered through sleep-fogged eyes at the edge of daylight slicing between the shutters. The clock said 5:07 a.m. She could not think who could be calling her at this hour.
Today was not going to be a good day, she knew that already, but she picked up the phone and plumped the pillow behind her into a cushion. “Hello.”
“I need to speak with Kaye Lang.”
“That’s me,” she said sleepily.
“Kaye, this is Luella Hamilton. You got in touch with us a little while ago.”
Kaye felt her adrenaline surge. Kaye had met Luella Hamilton fifteen years ago, when she had been a volunteer subject in a SHEVA study at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda. Kaye had taken a liking to the woman, but had not heard from her since driving west with Mitch to Washington state. “Luella? I don’t remember…”
“Well, you did.”
Suddenly Kaye held the phone close. She had heard something about the Hamiltons being connected to Up River. It was reputed to be a very choosy organization. Some claimed it was subversive. She had forgotten all about her letter; that had been the worst time for her, and she had reached out to anyone, even the extremists who claimed they could track and rescue children.
“Luella? I didn’t—”
“Well, since I knew you, they told me to make the return call. Is that okay?”
She tried to clear her head. “It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”
“I’m expecting, Kaye. You?”
“No,” Kaye said. Luella had to be in her middle fifties. Talk about rolling the dice.
“It’s SHEVA again, Kaye,” Luella said. “But no time to chat. So listen close. You there, Kaye?”
“I hear you.”
“I want you to get to a scrambled line and call us again. A good scrambled line. You still have the number?”
“Yes,” Kaye said, wondering if it was in her wallet.
“You’ll get a cute mechanical voice. Our little robot. Leave your number and we might call you back. Then, we’ll go from there. All right, honey?”
Kaye smiled despite the tension. “Yes, Luella. Thank you.”
“Sorry to ring so early. Good-bye, dear.”
The phone went dead. Kaye immediately swung her legs out of bed and walked into the kitchen to fix coffee. Thought about trying to reach Mitch and tell him.
But it was too early, and probably not a good idea to spread such news around when any phone call was risky.
She stood by the window looking out over Baltimore and thought about Stella in Arizona, wondering how she was doing, and how long it would be until she saw her again.
Something snapped and she heard herself making little growls, like a fox. For a moment, clutching the coffee cup in her trembling hand, Kaye felt a blind, helpless rage. “Give me back my daughter, you FUCKHEADS,” she rasped. Then she dropped back into the nearest chair, shaking so hard the coffee spilled. She set the cup on a side table and wrapped herself in her arms. With the thick terry sleeve of her robe, she wiped tears of helplessness from her eyes. “Calm down, dear,” she said, trying to copy Mrs. Hamilton’s strong contralto.
It was not going to be an easy day. Kaye strongly suspected she was going to be put at liberty. Fired. Ending her life as a scientist forever, but opening up her options so she could go get her daughter and reunite her family.
“Dreamer,” she said, with none of the conviction of Luella Hamilton.
27
ARIZONA
They pumped a thick strawberry smell into the dorm at eight in the morning. Stella opened her eyes and pinched her nose, moaning.
“What now?” Celia asked in the bunk below.
The humans did that whenever they wanted to do something the children might object to. Shots, mass blood samples, medical exams, dorm checks for contraband.
Next came a wave of Pine-Sol, blowing in through the vent pipes slung under the frame roof. The smell came in through Stella’s mouth when she breathed, making her gag.
She sat on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, her stomach twisting and her chest heaving. Three men in isolation suits walked down the center aisle of the dormitory. One of the men, she saw, was not a man; it was Joanie, shorter and stockier than the others, her blank face peering through the plastic faceplate of the floppy helmet.
Joanie reminded Stella of Fred Trinket’s mother; she had that same calm, fated expectancy of everything and anything, with no emotional freight attached.
The suited trio stopped by a bed four down from Stella’s. The girl in the top bunk, Julianne Nicorelli, not a member of Stella’s deme, climbed down at a few soft words from Joanie. She looked apprehensive but not scared, not yet. Sometimes the counselors and teachers ran drills in the camp, odd drills, and the kids were never told what they were up to.
Joanie turned and walked deliberately toward Stella’s bunk. Stella slid down quickly, not using the ladder, and flattened her nightgown where it had ridden up above her knees. She hid her chest with her hands; the fabric was a little sheer, and she didn’t like the way the men were looking at her.
“You, too, Stella,” Joanie said, her voice hollow and hissy behind the helmet. “We’re going on a trip.”
“How many?” Celia asked.
Joanie smiled humorlessly. “Special trip. Reward for good grades and good behavior. The rest get to eat breakfast early.”
This was a lie. Julianne Nicorelli got terrible grades, not that anyone cared.
28
BALTIMORE
“Heads up. Marge will be here in twenty minutes,” Liz Cantrera said. “Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Kaye said, and took a deep breath. She looked around the lab to see if there was anything that could be put away or cleaned up. Not that it mattered. It was her last day.
“You look fine,” Liz said sadly, straightening Kaye’s lapels.