Old Earth (14 page)

During the hour break, Tamburro went online, researching the indigenous tribes and looking at other examples of cave art. Basic styles were similar, but the depictions were different. He couldn’t find anything like it on museum, library, or tribal websites. “Love to get more detail on the petroglyphs, doc,” he said. “It’s not our field, but someone’s going to know how to read them.”

Following lunch, it took twenty minutes for them to return to the point where they’d stopped. Tamburro lowered the ladder down the hole. Rodriguez took care securing it safely.

“Sure you want to go down?” McCauley asked. “I should go first.”

“Nah. Let me get the lay of the land. I’ll be fine.”

Suddenly insurance issues were hitting McCauley. This was beyond the normal scope of the work. He’d make some calls later.

Tamburro slowly descended.

“Clear,” he called reaching the bottom, or the newest bottom. He shined his flashlight ahead. “Looks stable. Come on.”

While the others climbed down the collapsible ladder, Tamburro continued exploring. He spotted another vivid ancient petroglyph. Chohany was standing by his side as he was taking a picture.

“Check this out.”

“Jesus. Weird.”

Now McCauley was with them. The professor took a series of pictures himself. Wide and tight.

“What do you think, doc?” Chohany asked.

“Well, conventional wisdom says these Indian drawings are depicting some legend. But I have no idea what they represent.”

He examined the petroglyph again. Holding the light and looking closer he saw more detail, vibrant colors, and…

“Look.” He adjusted the lamp and stood only inches from the drawing. “Like the others, this just seems to dead end. More of what they’ve explored here, rather than serving as a chronicle of life outside.”

Chohany and Tamburro moved closer. Alpert, Cohen and Rodriguez were also crowding around.

“Says to me they reached the end of their journey. The dark sections probably represent the awareness or presence of death,” Cohen whispered.

“I’m not so sure,” McCauley responded. “The Lakota generally believed that death was a liberating experience, with the spirit lifted to the sky. There’s nothing
sky
about this.”

“Then any idea what it represents?” Dr. Alpert asked.

McCauley paused as Chohany took more photographs. “It seems like they were doing what Anna is right now.”

The team looked confused.

“Creating their own kind of picture of what they saw.”

Nineteen

THE ENGLISH TEA ROOM, BROWN’S HOTEL
LONDON
THE SAME DAY

“I have to confess, I’m going to miss this, too.” Martin Gruber admitted as he savored a fine Jing, one of the many Brown’s served from the assortment of the world’s finest family-owned tea gardens.

Colin Kavanaugh chuckled, but quietly. Gruber had tutored him about the importance of maintaining the image of a distinguished British editor. Taking proper afternoon tea at Brown’s English Tea Room was Gruber’s favorite part of the job.

Kavanaugh had no such tradition. Perhaps, he thought, he should begin one, though he considered such habitual activities a waste of time.

Gruber sensed what his protégé was thinking. He was dressed for the part in a tailored three-piece black pin-striped suit. But he wore it like a costume.

“Not for you?”

“I don’t know,” Kavanaugh said, surprised he so easily telegraphed his reaction.

“It’s all right. It’s a bit stuffy. But this
will
be your table. You’ll sit here, maintain a dignified image, meet with writers and even members of Parliament. Smile and relax. You’ll never complain and you will, as a gentleman, never speak of money.”

Kavanaugh had heard it all before but he nonetheless agreed as if it were the first time.

“Fortunately, money will not be a problem for you. Our financial resources extend far beyond the print revenue or online ads. However, you are never to discuss that point with staff. Never. If there is a legal problem of any type, immediately refer it to our counselors.” He smiled an artful smile. “They have special connections.”

Gruber caught himself. “There I go again, getting off topic. I was waxing philosophical on Brown’s tea.”

“It doesn’t interfere with your day?”

“Quite the opposite. It is an essential part of my day. I get work done and often simply sit back and relax. Speaking of relaxing, you’ll have to learn how. That will not be easy for you. You’re eager to jump in and multitask. I suppose that is a quality of your generation. Certainly not mine.”

“Oh, you should see what fifteen-year-olds are doing now,” Kavanaugh told the older man. “They make my head spin with their multi-tasking and second and third screens.”

“Ah, but their attention span suffers because of it. And that is what you must work on. Focus and patience. Time to consider things that have come to pass and things to come. That’s one of the reasons I’m introducing you to tea at Brown’s. In years past there were other establishments in different countries. In each, there were corner tables like this where our predecessors would also sit facing out to meet, observe, calculate, and…relax.” Gruber had given extra emphasis to the last point again. “If you don’t learn to lighten up, the weight that you carry on your shoulders will crush you.”

“That sounds like a mixed metaphor, Mr. Gruber.”

“Alright. You may rewrite it any way you wish. But take the advice.”

“To tell you the truth, it’s not the environment, Mr. Gruber. It’s the tea. I…”

“Let me tell you the difference between tea and your coffee, Colin. You sip tea, you gulp coffee. You take your time with tea, your coffee speeds you up. Tea, like wine, offers something for the ages. Coffee is pedestrian; a bitter gift from the New World. There are tea sommeliers. Your coffee shop has baristas. You drink tea in fine china. You bring your Starbucks to the office in cardboard cups. One is refined. The other, undefined.”

Kavanaugh was tiring of these discussions.
Please God, take him now.

“Have I lost you again?”

“No, no, no, sir. Just thinking about what you’re saying.”

Gruber laughed. “No, you weren’t. You were pondering how much longer you’d be enduring my interminable diatribes. And I don’t blame you one bit. My irascible secretary will have none of it either. Considering I never married, I suppose I’m taking it out on you.”

“It’s all been…”

“Boring. I know.” He reached across the table and patted Kavanaugh’s arm. “But there is a point to all of this.” He raised his cup of tea and sighed. “I have no real faith that there’s an afterlife or what it shall be. Heaven? Hell? For me, heaven would be right at this very table, listening to the world’s most beautiful music on Brown’s baby grand, and delighting on the delicate scones, sandwiches and pastries without fear of adding inches to my waist. All of that would be heaven without complaint. Hell? All the same, right here, but instead of being greeted by the experienced staff, there’s only the devil. He’s plum out of tea. And he’s only serving coffee in a paper cup.” He paused for impact. “For eternity.”

Kavanaugh nodded. “Heaven it is. Deservedly so.”

Gruber shook his head. “Let us talk about a decision,” he whispered. “It is yours to make.”

The senior executive bent down and removed a file folder from the briefcase beside his foot. He had no concern that anyone would see or hear. They sat at his reserved corner table in privacy.

“Read this.” He passed the file across the restaurant table.

Kavanaugh opened it and read the single page summary from abroad. Kavanaugh read it once, then again. He began to form a question, but Gruber put a finger to his lips.

“We’ll talk more about it later.”

“Why wasn’t this sent to me first?” Kavanaugh insisted. “I would have…”

“There are still some things that come right to me. Only me. You will insist on the same, but not until…”

Kavanaugh filled in the thought almost cruelly. “Your passing.”

Gruber didn’t mind the comment. It was the eagerness. “Read it again. It is the kind of problem that you will have to deal with not just effectively, but exhibiting proper discretion. Not all challenges require the same action. Learn that, you will succeed…” Martin Gruber left the rest of the equation unsaid.

Twenty

MAKOSHIKA STATE PARK, MT
BASE CAMP

“Slow down!” McCauley called.

Enthusiasm was one thing; recklessness another. McCauley was insistent. “Slow down, Rich.”

“I’m okay,” Tamburro replied. He was in the lead about twenty yards ahead in the gradually sloping tunnel. The lifeline was still around him with rope also attached to Anna Chohany and anchored by the team that followed.

“Maybe, but wait.”

“Okay.” That comment was followed by a discouraging, “Damn.”

Chohany, caught up. “What’s the problem?”

Tamburro shined his flashlight at rocks that blocked the way. “Oh, no,” she said.

“Yup,” Tamburro stated. “End of the line. Looks like a collapse.”

Now McCauley, Alpert and the others were upon them.

“What’s up?” the professor asked.

“We’re fucked.”

McCauley assessed the obstruction. “Set up two lights facing this mess on either side of the walls. Let’s see what we have here.”

Rodriguez attached the wiring and the lights. He had two left.

“Hey, how’s…going…’n th… ?” Tom Trent’s walkie-talkie transmission from outside broke up. “Haven’t check…while.”

“Say again?” McCauley’s reply was equally poor on the other end.

“Are…okay?”

McCauley responded in shorter blasts. “Ok. Blocked tunnel. Repeat. Blocked tunnel.”

“Copy that.”

“Hang on.”

With Rodriguez’s lights in place, McCauley felt around the debris. Some crumbled to his touch. Then he moved to the right side of the tunnel and ran his fingers against the wall.

“I think this was a natural rock slide and if the petroglyphs were essentially Native American maps, the tunnel continues beyond it.”

He groped around more. “Mostly loose rock. We might be able to dig through it.

Again, they didn’t have all the equipment they needed, but there was enough to start: one folding shovel with an axe and two picks.

“Let’s do this methodically. Rich and I can cut away from the top. Dr. Alpert and Carlos, you can spread out the dirt behind us. Nothing high. Everyone, wear your masks. Keep the dust out of your lungs. If we don’t get anywhere in the next hour, we’ll call it quits. Leslie, have Tom come up with more water. I think we’ll need it.”

• • •

The loosest dirt easily fell away. After forty minutes, they’d cleared two feet of the rock, about three feet high, enough to crawl forward. That’s when McCauley’s pick hit hard rock.

“Shit,” he said.

“What is it?” Katrina Alpert asked.

“Another damned boulder.”

• • •

Rich Tamburro joined McCauley in the cramped space. “Give it another tap, Rich,” McCauley said. “Not too hard. But dead center.”

The Michigan student, on his side, complied. McCauley was sandwiched next to him.

McCauley cocked his ear to the sound. “Again.” The paleontologist pointed. “Right there.”

Tamburro tapped again. “What?”

“Don’t know. Move over. I want to hear.”

That was easier said than done given the tight quarters. Behind them were Chohany and Rodriguez, ready to pull them out if any dirt and rock above gave way. Alpert was on all fours trying to look in as well.

McCauley struck the boulder with his pick.
The sound,
he thought. It didn’t sound right.

He placed his left ear against the rock, closed his eyes in case any stone splintered off.
Again.
His eyes popped open.

“That. Did you hear that?”

“Yes. The unmistakable sound of a hammer hitting solid rock,” Tamburro joked.

McCauley rolled on his back and lifted his head. “Half right.”

“Huh?”

“Listen.”

McCauley hit the rock wall to his right. It produced a dull, flat thud. Then he hit the rock in front of them again. It created more of an open sound. McCauley repeated the action and rolled onto his back.

“And?” he asked, ever the teacher.

“Thinner.” McCauley explained. “One more time.”

McCauley tapped again.

“Or hollow, like a huge geode. Probably easier to roll in and…”

“Out,” Tamburro said. “Did the Lakota put it there?”

“We’ll explore that question tomorrow. Enough for today.” McCauley motioned for Tamburro to inch back. “It’s getting late and we need a better plan.”

He explained the same thing to the others in the cave and then added, “Time to clean up and head to town.”

“Celebration?” Rodriguez asked.

“No, just more shopping and some heavy drinking.”

• • •

Tamburro returned from the camp shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “It’s all yours.”

Anna Chohany wore only a bathrobe herself. She was typing quickly on her laptop.

“All yours,” he said again, letting his towel drop down. He was trying to engage Anna. They had not so quietly begun to see each other a few weeks into the summer.

“Uh huh.” Chohany continued to type.

“Before someone else takes it,” he added.

“Uh huh,” she said again. “In a sec.” She finished by moving the cursor up to the send command. “There.”

Chohany quickly closed down her computer and turned around to see her boyfriend completely naked.

“Now, what could possibly be on your mind?” she asked.

It was abundantly obvious.

“All mine?”

“You bet.”

“Good. Then it will also be mine when I get back,” Chohany said, brushing past him.

“But?”

“Shower.”

“Okay, but then no more computer,” he replied. “And we’ll have to make it quick. Doc wants to leave soon.”

Anna Chohany had already decided she was going to stay at the base camp.

Twenty-one

GLENDIVE, MT
LATE AFTERNOON

The team piled into the Chevy Tahoe for the bumpy off-road ride into town. The first stop was the hardware store. Once loaded up with more supplies, space became much tighter. But it was a short drive to early dinner at Maddhatters Bar.