— Kirkland
"Mr. Kirkland phoned me this morning and asked me to make sure you were here on time,” O'Doyle said. His voice was deep and thick, yet respectful. “He'll be pleased to know that you're early. I've been permanently assigned to your department. No one is to enter or leave without my knowledge, on orders from Mrs. Yakely. I know this will be an inconvenience, but no one is allowed to take any material out of this lab until further notice. Should you work late, we've converted the east storage room into a bunkhouse for the convenience of you and your staff. I'll stay out of your way as best I can."
Kool's curiosity dominated his immediate anger at this intrusion on his authority. He'd never seen anything like this in his three years at EarthCore. What the hell was happening that could light such a fire under Connell's ass? What could produce this level of urgency, or paranoia?
As if to answer the thought, O'Doyle reached into his pocket, pulled out a jangling key chain, and unlocked a steel briefcase sitting at his feet. He removed a red folder.
"This is the report I was instructed to give you. You are to read it and then give it back to me. No one on your staff is to know about the contents. You are instructed, by Mr. Kirkland, not to discuss details of this information with your staff, although he understands you will have to have them work on various aspects of it."
"What's this all about?” Angus asked as he took the folder, his curiosity so strong the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
"I don't know, sir. I'm not authorized to look at it."
Angus opened the folder, his mind spinning at the militaristic, secretive overtones that had suddenly engulfed his job. Itcontained a metallurgical analysis report. One glance at the report, and everything suddenly became clear. Now he understood O'Doyle's presence, as well as Kirkland's urgency and threats. EarthCore was sitting on what could be the richest mine in history.
The report's numbers shocked Angus. The sample was almost pure platinum mixed with iridium. Naturally occurring precious metals contained impurities; even dust contained impurities — but not this sample.
With the revolutionary techniques he'd recently developed, he could make a map of the very ground itself and hopefully pinpoint the exact source of the dust. If that source proved to have any size whatsoever, the profit margin could prove staggering.
"I'll need to contact Harrison Geo-surveying immediately,” Angus said. “We need their helicopters."
"No outsiders,” O'Doyle said. “Mr. Kirkland was quite specific about that."
Angus stamped his foot. “But I have to survey the area immediately!"
"Tell me what you need,” O'Doyle said calmly.
"I need helicopters, at least two, and they need to be retrofitted with new equipment I've developed. And they need to be the big cargo type."
"Just give me a printout of what you need, and I'll make it happen."
"I don't think you understand,” Angus said. “We're talking a half-million each. Kirkland going to authorize that?"
O'Doyle smiled patiently. “Of course, sir. If you'd just give me the printout, I'll take care of it."
Angus let out a low whistle. If Kirkland was spending that kind of money without batting an eyelash, he was betting the proverbial farm on this project.
"I'll provide EarthCore employees as pilots and crew, sir,” O'Doyle said. “But you need to assign technical people to run the tests. Mr. Kirkland asks that you assign your best people, your most trusted people, to handle any fieldwork."
Angus nodded, then turned quickly toward the lab. A strong hand on his shoulder stopped him before he reached the door. Startled, he turned.
O'Doyle offered a polite smile. “You have to leave the file with me, sir."
Angus blinked a few times, not understanding, then looked down at the red folder in his hand. “Oh… sorry.” He practically threw the folder at O'Doyle.
Eyes snapped up as he strode into the lab. He felt better, he felt like himself again. Here was a project that would demand every ounce of his genius.
"Randy, saddle up! You're heading to Utah."
Sonny McGuiness and Cho Takachi continued to dig for background on the Wah Wah site. They'd spent forty of the last forty-eight hours buried among BYU's musty archives, digging their way through countless yellowing newspapers, rare texts and research journals that were old before the computer was even invented. Cho kept popping No-Doz, and Sonny ribbed him for violating Mormon rules against caffeine.
"It's disrespectful,” Sonny said. “We're at Brigham Young, for crying out loud."
Cho looked exhausted. “What do you want from me, old man? Connell didn't tell me I'd be up for two days straight."
Sonny laughed. “So much for your ‘easy money,’ eh, kid?"
"Don't worry, it's not like I haven't pulled all-nighters before. I was a medic in the Marine's, first class. I went to med school after that."
"You're a doctor?"
"Was a doctor. For about a year."
"What the hell are you doing for EarthCore, then?"
Cho shrugged. “I didn't like working in hospitals. Too much politics, too much BS with insurance companies and all that."
Sonny nodded. “Uh-huh. You got sued, did you?"
Cho looked angry for a second, then broke into a tired smile. “You're pretty damn sharp for an old wrinkled fossil. Yeah, I got sued."
"And this must be so much more exciting than a boring old emergency ward,” Sonny said.
Cho shrugged and yawned. “Actually, this is pretty cool stuff. Now can we get back to work before I pass out?"
Sonny hadn't found much more on the Wah Wah Mountains, let alone the area of the platinum find. People didn't write about it for much the same reason poets didn't wax romantic about a pile of cat crap — the Wah Wahs were ugly and held little interest. Sonny did, however, find a few geological surveys of the area, mostly obscure research papers written by graduate students. One of these proved immensely interesting.
"Tunnel Systems in the Lower Wah Wah Mountain Range,” was the name of a paper written by one Samuel J. Anderson in 1942. Sonny came across a reference to Anderson while browsing through thick, leather-bound tomes of old Brigham Young student newspapers, the story describing the grad student's discovery of cave formations in the Wah Wah range. Sonny investigated central filing and found the report — paper worn thin and spotted with mold — buried in a rust-specked filing cabinet. It obviously hadn't been read in decades. Many of the old research papers were still filed away, remnants from the days when Brigham Young was a small school and didn't have twenty thousand students.
Sonny only gave the report a cursory glance until he read the tunnel's location, which — if accurate — put the cave less than a mile northeast of the Silver Spring. That location also rested just over a half-mile east of the Jessup mine coordinates. Anderson's cave was smack-dab in the middle of a pair of platinum finds.
The report detailed Anderson's discovery of a long passage located about five thousand feet up the side of the mountain. He and his fellow students followed one of the tunnels for around four hundred feet before hitting an old cave-in that blocked further access. Anderson surmised that primitive people had once lived in the caves; he based that theory on a tool discovered deep in the tunnels.
Sonny's blood chilled as he read more on the tool. Anderson thought it worthy of little more than a footnote compared to the geological formations, but it did strike him odd enough to list a brief description.
"Approximately seventy-five yards into the cave, we found a primitive tool. It appears to be a scraper, perhaps, or possibly a weapon. It is a metal blade, obviously made by a skilled craftsman, measuring 13.5” in length and 3.75” at the widest point. A crude, thin rope, mostly decomposed, was tied through a hole in the blade where it met the central ring. The culture that created it was obviously very skilled at working metal. The knife has a jagged edge on the outside curve, which has remained very sharp despite sitting in a cave for who knows how long. The knife appears to be steel. The quality of work seems excellent, but not being an anthropologist, I'm sure that such artifacts such as these are nothing out of the ordinary. I'll turn it over to the anthropology department."