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Diablo Mesa(2)

Author:Douglas Preston

He said all this in a rush, then stopped.

Nora continued to stare at Digby. Why would he call this wacko theory “the truth”?

“Mr. Tappan has brought us a proposal, well prepared and fully funded, to excavate the Roswell site. A professional archaeological dig, done by the book.”

“And this is the wonderful new project you want me to direct?”

He gave her a nervous smile. “Exactly. With all the staff, equipment, and money you require to do an excavation to the highest professional standards.”

When Nora continued to stare at him, he fell into a nervous silence, taking a pencil from his shirt pocket and starting to fiddle with it.

Nora finally turned to Weingrau. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Not at all,” she said. “The project’s been thoroughly vetted and board approved. Something crashed there. What, we don’t really know.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Please don’t jump to conclusions, Nora. We’re not endorsing any UFO theory. What we’ve agreed to is a professional excavation of the crash site. That’s it.”

“With all due respect, Dr. Weingrau, by even agreeing to this, you’re endorsing it. I mean, that UFO incident was debunked years ago.”

“Reasonable people disagree. Nobody knows for sure. As Connor mentioned, there’s evidence of a government cover-up. Mr. Tappan has done considerable research into the incident, and he’s come upon new information confirming that alien technology was recovered from the area, possibly even remains.”

“As in, alien bodies? I’m sorry, but do you really mean to involve the Institute in something as…tacky as this?”

“We already have,” said Weingrau, her voice taking on an edge. “This is a done deal. And I take exception to your characterization. I’ve been patient with you, Nora. Very patient…even as you continue to work on the Tsankawi project long past the expected deadline, with no end in sight.”

Nora could hardly believe what she was hearing. “I imagine that, in addition to funding the dig, Tappan has promised the Institute a wad of cash—right?”

“While a generous donation is involved, that’s not why we’re doing it. This is a genuine unsolved mystery. If we can shed light on it with archaeological science, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m giving you a wonderful opportunity to polish your CV and raise your profile.”

“Forget it,” said Nora before she could stop herself.

“Denying the existence of things beyond our knowledge is as dangerous as promoting them.”

Nora tried for a moment to think about it from the president’s perspective, but she couldn’t quite get there. “I’m sorry, but I won’t do it. I couldn’t do it.”

Weingrau stared at her. “Perhaps I gave you the wrong impression. We’re not asking for your approval. The project has been accepted and you’re going to direct it. Period.”

“This isn’t right,” said Nora, getting control of her anger and lowering her voice. “I wasn’t consulted while all this was being decided, and by rights I should have been. I’m in the middle of an important project right now, delayed through no fault of my own by that business with Victorio Peak. You can’t dump something like this on me with no notice. The fact is, you haven’t been treating me with the professionalism I deserve since you came here—and this is just another example. It’ll make the Institute the laughingstock of the archaeological community. It won’t raise my profile; it’ll endanger my career. I decline to participate.”

“You heard Dr. Weingrau,” Digby piped up shrilly. “It’s already been decided.”

She fixed a cool eye on him before looking back at Weingrau. This demand, on top of everything else, was the last straw. “Here’s an idea. Get your toady to direct it.”

“That’s not only uncalled for, it’s offensive.”

“You’re probably right. So let Digby speak for himself.” She turned to him. “Why don’t you direct the excavation, Connor?”

“Because…” he stammered, “Mr. Tappan mentioned you specifically.”

“Is that right?” Nora said coolly. “Well, please tell Tappan I’m not available.”

A tense silence developed in the office. Finally, Weingrau said: “Is that your final word, Nora?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then I suggest you go back to your office, gather your personal effects, put your files in order, and take your leave of the Institute.”

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