The Eden Factor (Kathlyn Trent/Marcus Burton Romance Adventure Series Book 2) (5 page)

“Is that how you think they
know?” The Archaeologist’s outrage was growing. “Someone intercepted it?”

“As I said, I don’t know,” the
Director said. As the Archaeologist stomped around angrily, he looked at his
two older, calmer colleagues. “Very, very peculiar. Since when does The Vatican
monitor us?”

“They monitor every institution
with a Biblical archaeology affiliation or department,” the Archaeologist said
irritably. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet they examine all modes of
communication just looking for this sort of thing. The damn Church has its
fingers in everything that involves Christian mythology.”

“What did you tell them, Quasiq?”
The Chairman asked calmly.

“What could I tell them?
Certainly they are welcome to send a representative. If I deny them, it will
look as if we are hiding something and at this juncture I want no rift between
ourselves and The Vatican.”

“A wise move, of course,” the
Chairman said. “And we will welcome their verification of this relic, should it
come to that.”

The Director merely nodded his
head. After a moment, he rubbed his temples. “They said something else, too.”

“Which was?”

“They want samples of the relic
sent to them once this angel is excavated.”

The Archaeologist’s irritation
was brimming. “Samples? What for?”

The Director exhaled sharply. “I
was specifically asked to provide clean, solid samples. Something about testing
the DNA.”

The Archaeologist’s annoyance was
tempered by his confusion. “DNA testing? Don’t they know that we’re going to do
that along with a battery of other tests?”

“I'm sure they do. But maybe they
want their own tests, under their own regulated conditions.”

The Archaeologist merely shook
his head and turned back to the open window. The breeze was growing hotter by
the moment. All thoughts of The Vatican and DNA testing aside, the very real
question remained of time and permits and manpower to do what needed to be
done.  Something important was out there in the middle of the Iraqi desert,
something important enough to get Kathlyn Trent out there, and he wanted to
have a go at it.

“Let me contact my grandfather,”
he finally said. “He has the connections. I can most likely be inside the Iraqi
border and excavating within twenty-four hours.”

“What about Kathlyn Trent?” the
Curator asked.

“I’m going to pay a visit to
Egypt.”

“Do you think she’ll help us?”

“It is my suspicion, given the
fact that she most likely knows she cannot gain any permits that she will
readily agree to assist.”

“Then glean her for whatever
information you can and be done with it. But I want the angel back here, with
us. The Americans have no claim on it and I don’t care if she was the first one
to see it. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly.”

After the Archaeologist left, the
three older men sat around in contemplative silence. As the Chairman finished
his coffee, the Director spoke up.

“There is something else I failed
to mention,” he said quietly.

“What is that?” the Chairman
asked.

The Director looked up, his soft
brown eyes weary. “The gentleman who called from The Vatican was a priest, but
he was apparently also a scientist. He used a lot of language on DNA strands
and codes that was difficult to follow. He was, in fact, more interested in the
scientific implications of this than anything.”

“Truly? What was this man’s
name?”

“De Tormo.”

“I’ve not heard of him.”

“He is faxing us his credentials
so we shall have everything on file to clear him for the necessary liability
and travel paperwork.”

“So is that all he talked about?
DNA strands and codes?”

The Director nodded his head
wearily. “And I feel an ominous sense of foreboding.”

“Why?”

“He mentioned one word that made
me extremely uncomfortable.”

“Which was?”

The Director paused, not sure how
he would come across with this statement. Maybe he was over reacting; maybe he
wasn’t. All he knew was that the very word the gentleman from The Vatican used
made his heart stop.

“Cloning.”

"Cloning?" The curator
repeated in horror. "They want to clone an angel? But Human Cloning is
outlawed by most civilized governments, and certainly by the Italian
government."

"The Vatican doesn't fall
under their jurisdiction," the Director said quietly.  He remained silent
while the others digested the horrible suggestion. "Perhaps it is not as
dark as we think. I, for one, have a suggestion."

They were more than willing to
listen.

CHAPTER
THREE

The campus of Southern California
University had once been in the center of an agricultural area. Consequently,
there were massive oak trees dotting the extensive compound. Now the city had
grown up and the college had been absorbed into the megalopolis. Kathlyn had
once thought that the university was as big and lonely as the city itself; now,
as she deftly navigated the grounds, she felt as if she had returned to her
small hometown. Being perhaps one of the biggest celebrities the campus had
produced, everyone from the parking attendants to the President knew who she
was. Everyone waved and greeted her. Once she and Marcus reached the department
of Archaeology and Anthropology, her fingers were sore from shaking hands.

But there was one more hand to
shake. Dr. Jobe McGrath came from behind his heavy oak desk to not only squeeze
her fingers again, but to hug her. He was a short man with premature silver
hair for his mid-forties, nice looking and slender.  He had only been in power
as the SCU department head for a little more than a year, having been hired
away from Marcus' alma mater where he had been dean of the Historic Sciences
Department. He knew both Kathlyn and Marcus very well, Marcus longer because
they had worked together since nearly the beginning of Marcus' career.  He was
a sharp man, fair to the bone, and his presence had been a tremendous boost for
SCU in the wake of the Walter Dougray scandal which had also had links to Dr.
Ronald Abrahams, former head of the department and the man that McGrath had
replaced.

"Kathlyn, you look great,"
he sat her down on the big fluffy couch in his office. When Marcus went to take
a seat beside his wife, McGrath beat him to it and waved him off to another
chair. "It's been too long. How are the boys?"

Having left them a few hours
before, Kathlyn had only recently gotten over the weepies about leaving them.
She tried to be very brave about answering.

"They're doing great,"
she said. "Teething, walking, talking. They're monsters on the
prowl."

Marcus lowered his big body down
into an armchair next to the couch. "We just spent the past two days with
them. In that time we've discovered that Trent likes to bite and Ethan likes to
ram into things with his head." He laughed softly at the memories.
"It's a kind of wonderful crazy, I've got to say."

McGrath smiled; he hadn't seen
the twins since they were born. But he clearly remembered how enormous Kathlyn
had been carrying them. "Having no kids of my own, I can only
imagine," he turned back to Kathlyn. "So tell me about Zubayr. What
in the hell did you find over there?"

The pleasantries were behind them
quick enough. McGrath wanted to get to the point. "Did you read my
email?" Kathlyn asked.

McGrath nodded. "Four
times."

"What wasn't clear about
it?"

"Nothing at all. It was just
the most fantastic thing I've ever heard. Are you sure... well, certainly not
to doubt you, but are you sure it's what you think it is?"

She was ready for the questions.
Ballard's interrogation had only been a foretaste.

"I'm sure that it looks like
an angel," she said. "Jobe, it's the most amazing thing I've ever
seen, and I've seen a lot of amazing things. The skeletal structure is large,
the skull absolutely massive, and then there are these protrusions out of the
shoulders that look suspiciously like wings. Ask Marcus; he examined it."

Marcus nodded. "I took some
crude measurements of it while we were there. The village of Zubayr is very
primitive and I think the people, though Muslim, are inherently superstitious. 
They asked that we take no pictures or make any drawings, which left things
like fragment samples or measurements kind of in the air. What I did was use my
hand as standard measurement and then calculate the skeleton based on that. 
From the base of my palm to the tip of my index finger is a little over eight
inches. The right femur, the long bone I had access to, was a little under four
hand lengths long, about twenty eight inches. The tibia of the same leg, which
was basically intact, was about twenty four inches long.  This gives us a man
with a leg that is four feet, three inches long.  Even if is torso is only
three quarters of his leg length, it still makes him ninety one inches
tall."

McGrath's eyebrows rose.
"This skeleton is over seven feet tall?"

Marcus shrugged his big
shoulders. "If the calculations hold true."

McGrath didn't know what to say.
He looked at Kathlyn, who smiled weakly. "We have no idea what the wing
span would be. Obviously there were no tissues left and the bones were very
small. It would take months, even years to reconstruct."

McGrath took a long, deep breath.
He rose from his seat and went to a small refrigerator on the opposite side of
the office. Withdrawing three diet colas, he went back to the couch.

"You know," he said,
handing Marcus and Kathlyn a cold can. "This would be a hell of a find if
it's substantiated."

"Tell me about it,"
Marcus snorted. "But there's a few things preventing us from excavating
it."

"Like what?"

"The Iraqi government, for
one. If you think they're going to let an American university dig in their
country, you're out of your mind. Then there are the religious views of the
village. They think they have a genuine angel right in their midst and they're
very protective about it."

"As they should be,"
McGrath agreed. "So let's think; realistically, what would it take for us
to dig up that skeleton?"

Kathlyn took a long drink of the
soda. "Realistically, we'd have to sneak in and sneak out. There would be
no permits, no publicity, nothing announcing our presence. And what scares me
the most is, what if we're not the only ones who know of this find? What if
someone has blabbed it to the Iraqi Government? There's no telling what they'll
do, especially if they think the villagers have already contacted an outside
agency."

McGrath frowned. "It could
get ugly for them, but they probably already know that, which is why I'd bet
dollars to donuts that they've kept it to themselves. They'd rather have the
Americans in there for two very good reasons."

"Which are?"

"We won't put them all in
front of a firing squad. And we will pay them handsomely for their
trouble."

Kathlyn shook her head. "I
don't think this is a matter of money. I just don't get that sense."

"What sense do you get,
then?"

"That they just want to know
what it is."

McGrath sipped his drink,
contemplating her statement, the implications, and anything else rude enough to
enter his mind. "What did Ballard have to say?"

Kathlyn shrugged. "To put
together a proposal and he'd look at it. He's being very cautious."

Jobe stood up again and went over
to his desk. Removing a packet of Marlborough cigarettes, he opened a window
and flicked his lighter. Odd how he only seemed to smoke when Kathlyn Trent was
around, a nervous habit he had tried to break on more than one occasion.  He
blew a white stream of smoke out of the open window, into the treetops beyond.

"Kathlyn, do you really
believe it's an angel?"

"I do."

Jobe looked at her. "But
what do you feel?"

She knew what he meant. "My Intuition
didn't give me any real sense all, truthfully," she said. Then she glanced
at her husband. "But there was something at the time I didn't mention.
When I let myself go and cleared my mind of everything, I got a tremendous
sensation of darkness. It was really creepy."

"Darkness?" Marcus
repeated. "Like what? Evil"

"I don't know," she
said hesitantly. "But it makes me think of a passage in the Bible, in Job
10:22; 'to the land of deepest night, of deep shadow and disorder, where even
the light is like darkness'."

McGrath smiled faintly. "It
always amazed me that my parents named me after the most torturous book of the
Bible." He'd heard Kathlyn recite verses before, many times. She was
always right on the money with them. "I know this is a stupid question and
way off the subject, but have you really memorized the entire Bible?"