Diablo Mesa(6)
“His primary job will be working with our astronomer and artifact curator, Noam Bitan, taking care of his library and the collection. He majored in physics, seems to know a great deal about the Roswell Incident already, and has the requisite collections management background. Apparently, he also has a lot of experience assisting at a dig site—thanks to time spent with you, no doubt.”
“You hired him to get to me.”
“Not at all! We’re very glad to have him. Nora, here’s the reason for my call. I’ll be flying Skip out to the site tomorrow morning to introduce him around, show him his new quarters. Why don’t you come? No obligation. You can meet the team, see what we’re doing, and get a sense of how Skip will fit in.”
“It feels a little like blackmail, you hiring Skip.”
“Nora, I know how close you are to your brother, and I know…” He hesitated. “I know you experienced a great loss. I just wanted to create as welcoming and comfortable an environment for you as I could. I’ll be sending someone to your house to pick up Skip tomorrow at nine. Would you care to join him?”
4
NORA HADN’T SPENT much time in helicopters, but she could tell that Tappan’s was more like a private jet, or maybe even a luxury yacht, with its plush carpeting, leather, and gleaming mahogany trim. Two rows of seats faced each other, with Skip and Nora on one side and Tappan opposite.
Skip was enthused that she’d agreed to come along and almost beside himself with excitement. During the ride, Tappan was curiously quiet, spending most of the time reading a novel. Skip, on the other hand, talked almost nonstop about the Roswell Incident, UFOs, aliens, SETI, and the Drake equation. Nora was surprised at how much he knew. As he’d said, he’d always been interested in UFOs, but she hadn’t realized to what extent.
Tappan closed his book. “We’re approaching the site,” he said. “A look out the window will give you a good overview.”
Nora turned, grateful for the interruption in Skip’s enthused outpouring. The helicopter was flying over a landscape of broad desert mesas and high plains, cut by sinuous threads of arroyos and canyons, with sprinklings of pi?on and juniper. In the distance she could see a large, dry lake bed, all white, with dust devils crossing it. Coming into view on a low tableland, she saw what looked at first like a small town, but as they grew closer it resolved itself into a camp, with trailers, motor homes, a row of Quonset huts, two large prefab sheds, a dirt parking area full of cars and heavy equipment, and a brand-new cement helipad, all serviced by an equally new dirt road winding off toward a line of distant hills.
“Quite a setup,” Nora said.
“I think—if you choose to take the assignment—you’ll find it comfortable. We’re too far out in the middle of nowhere to commute, so staff will be living on-site.”
The chopper came in for a landing, circling as a flight-line worker motioned them in with Day-Glo batons. A moment later, they had eased onto the helipad and were powering down, and soon the doors opened. Nora followed Tappan out with Skip, and they scooted away from the rotors toward a waiting jeep.
Tappan turned to Nora. “Tour first, or a review of the project plan?”
“Project plan, please,” said Nora. If she didn’t like the plan—and she wouldn’t—there was no point in a tour.
“I figured as much.” He turned to the driver. “Quonset One.” He turned back to Nora. “I’m going to introduce you to the Three Engineers.”
The jeep drove through a neighborhood of Airstreams and class-A RVs to a row of Quonset huts, each one labeled with a number. They halted in front of number 1 and Nora and Skip followed Tappan inside. Passing several cubicles, they emerged into a large open space with a long worktable. Three people in white lab coats, two men and a woman, were standing behind it. Evidently, they’d been awaiting their arrival. On the table before them were some large, rolled-up documents.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Tappan, “I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Nora Kelly and Mr. Elwyn Kelly—”
“God, no,” Nora’s brother interrupted. “Call me Skip, please.”
She suppressed a smile; Skip loathed his given name.
“Skip it is, then. We’re all on a first-name basis here, anyway. Skip is Noam’s new research assistant and Nora is, I hope, going to be our chief archaeologist.” Tappan paused, then said: “Perhaps you’d introduce yourselves and your specialties? Nora, by the way, has a doctorate from Stanford and has worked at both the New York Museum of Natural History and the Santa Fe Archaeological Institute. A very impressive résumé.”
The three glanced at one another and greeted her with nervous smiles. Nora had a feeling the trio had been pulled together very recently and were still unsure of their roles. The Three Engineers, indeed: they did look sort of goofy and mismatched, with a short, dark fireplug guy; a tall, skinny pale woman; and a Black man of in-between height with a bald head, full beard, and thick glasses—all three gloriously and reassuringly nerdy.
“Vitaly, you first,” Tappan said. “Tell us about your background.”
“Vitaly Kuznetsov,” the short young man said with a hesitant nod. “Lidar mapping engineer. MS from the University of Houston, National Center for Airborne Laser Mapping.”