"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, no problem. Listen, I have to talk to you about something . . . something at work. Really important."
A silence. "What about work?" Her voice sounded wary. She'd made it pretty clear she didn't want to get involved in his travails or endanger her own career because of him.
"I've got a hard drive from NPF. One of the classified ones. It's got all the high-res imagery on it."
"Oh, shit, Mark, don't tell me this. I don't want to hear it."
"You've got to hear me. I found something on it. Something incredible."
"I really don't want to hear any more. I'm hanging up now."
"No, wait! I found an image of an alien . . . machine or artifact on . . ." He paused. Don't tell her the real location. "On Mars."
A silence. "Wait a minute. What'd you just say?"
"I found an image. A very, very clear image of a very, very old construction on the surface of Mars. Unmistakable."
"You've been drinking."
"Yes, but I made these discoveries when I was sober. Marjory, you know I'm not an idiot, you know I graduated first in my class at MIT, and you know I was the youngest technician in the entire Mars mission. You know that when I tell you this is real, it's real. I think this machine is the source of the gamma rays."
He could hear her breathing on the other end of the phone. "A lot of geological formations can look artificial."
"This is no formation. It's about six meters in diameter, consisting of a perfectly cylindrical tube with a rim projecting from the surface about two meters in diameter, surrounded by five perfectly spherical projections, the entire thing mounted on a pentagonal platform, partially drifted over with regolith."
"How do you know it's old?"
"The regolith. And you can see pitting and erosion from micrometeoroids. It's got to be many millions of years old."
Another silence. "Where on Mars is it? I want to see the images."
"Sorry, I'm not going to tell you that."
"Why not?"
"Because I found it, I'm getting the credit. Surely you understand."
"I do. But . . . What are you going to do about this? How are you going to get credit?"
"I called Chaudry."
"Jesus. You told him you stole a classified drive?"
"I didn't actually steal it, but yes, I told him. I said if he rehired me, I'd come back with the drive, all would be forgotten, and we'd share in the discovery. If not, I'd send the hard drive to the FBI and his career would be fucked."
"Oh my God. And?"
"The asshole didn't believe me about the alien machine. He said I was a psychopathic liar. He didn't even believe I had a classified hard drive. So I e-mailed him a detail from a high-res image--to prove it. Not a picture of the machine, of course, because he'd then find it using the data file. But I did send him a super-high-res of another image. The fucker called me back so fast."
"You're crazy."
"This is a high-stakes game."
"And?"
"It sort of backfired. He said he wouldn't do shit for me. And now I couldn't do shit to him. Because if I mailed the drive anonymously to the FBI, and he got nailed, he'd point the finger at me. 'I go down, you go down,' he said. It's a Mexican standoff."
A long pause. "He's right, you know."
"I realize that now. The fucker stalemated me."
"Now what?"
"This isn't over by a long shot. I'm thinking of taking the drive to the Times. I swear to God I'm getting the credit for this if it's the last thing I do." He hesitated. "I need a second opinion. I need to hear what you think. I've been thinking about this so much I'm about to explode."
He could hear the long-distance hiss on the line for a long time, the faint sound of music in the background. "Don't do anything right away," Leung said slowly. "I'm not sure going to the Times is the best idea. Give me a few days to think about it, okay? Just sit tight and don't do anything."
"Hurry up. I'm a desperate man."
45
Abbey hadn't been able to figure out what to say to her father at dinner, and now, at six A.M., as she lugged her suitcase down the stairs, she still had no idea how she was going to break the news.
She found him sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the Portland Press Herald. She was shocked at how tired he looked. His light brown hair lay in straggly locks plastered to his forehead, he hadn't shaved, and his shoulders were stooped. He was not tall but he had always been straight, stocky, and muscular. Now he looked half-collapsed. Since she had sunk his boat and wrecked his livelihood, he had quit bugging her about college and her future, stopped complaining about all the money he'd spent. It was almost like he'd given up on her--and his own life. He couldn't have made her feel worse if he'd tried.
As she set her suitcase by the door he looked up in surprise. "What's this? You going somewhere?"
She struggled to smile brightly. "I got a new job."
His eyebrows went up. "Sit down, have a cup of coffee, and tell me about it."
The sun streamed in the window, and she could see the blue of the distant harbor beyond, dotted with fishing boats, and, through the opposite window, the big meadow behind the house, the grass long and green. Half an hour until the car arrived. Taking a mug out of the cupboard, she poured herself a cup, added her usual four teaspoons of sugar and a good pour of heavy cream, stirred it up, and sat down.
"No more waitressing?"
"No more. I got a real job."
"At Reilly's Market? I saw they'd posted a notice looking for summer help."
"I'm going to Washington."
"Washington? As in D.C.?"
"For a week or two, and then maybe I'll be back. The position involves a certain amount of travel."
Her father leaned forward, an uncertain look on his face. "Travel? What in the world will you be doing?"
She swallowed. "I'm working for a planetary geologist. I'm his assistant."
Her father stared at her with narrowed eyes. "What do you know about geology?"
"It's not geology. It's planetary geology. Planets, Dad. It's more like astronomy. This scientist runs a consulting firm for the government." She paused, remembering what they'd discussed. "He was in the restaurant a couple of days ago, and we got to talking, and he offered to hire me as his assistant." She took a slug of coffee and smiled nervously.
"Why, Abbey, that's great. If you don't mind me asking, what's the pay?"
"It's excellent. In fact, there was a signing bonus . . ."
"A what?"
"A signing bonus. You know, when you take a new job, you sometimes get a bonus for accepting."
The eyes got narrower. "That's for highly skilled people. What skills do you have?"
Abbey just hated lying. "I took astronomy and physics courses at Princeton."
He looked at her steadily. "Are you sure this is legit?"
"Of course! Look, there's a car coming for me in fifteen minutes, so I gotta say good-bye. But there's something I want to tell you first--"
"A car? For you?"
"Right. Car service. To the airport. I'm flying to Washington."
"I want to meet your employer. I want to talk to him."
"Dad, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." She swallowed, glanced out the window.
Her father, frowning, set his coffee cup down. "I want to meet him."
"You will, I promise." She pointed out the window. "Look at the harbor."
"What?" Her father's face was all red with worry.