She peered at it more closely. It was heavily blackened by smoke but otherwise intact. On impulse, she took her phone from her pocket and—leaning forward so as not to leave footprints in a layer of sodden ash and rivers of plastic—took pictures of the device: top, sides, and bottom, where the legend and some numbers had been stamped.
Walking gingerly, she reached the door, opened it slightly, made sure nobody was in the hall beyond, and slipped out.
37
NORA WOKE TO the smell of bacon and eggs and the sound of Skip’s usual morning conversation with Mitty, who listened with great attention and zero comprehension.
As she came out of her bedroom, Skip, without turning around, said: “Bet you slept soundly.”
“Now, why would you say that?” Nora asked, sitting down while Skip placed a latte in front of her.
“Well,” he said cheerily, “when you came in rather late last evening you looked like you’d just run a marathon—all pink-cheeked and glowing.”
“Please shut up,” Nora said, and buried her lips in the warm foam, taking a deep draw of coffee.
“I figured you worked up quite an appetite, too.”
She was, in fact, starving, but said nothing, her annoyance rising. A moment later Skip placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. She tucked in right away, hoping she could finish and get out of there before he said more.
“You know, sis, I really like Lucas. He’s a good guy. He could have raked me over the coals for holding out on him about Bitan, but he didn’t.”
“You’re lucky, that’s all I can say.”
“I’d like to think it’s because I’ve proven to be an important member of the team,” Skip said with a note of injured pride.
“That’s true,” said Nora. And it was: Skip had risen to the occasion. Not only had he grown surprisingly knowledgeable about UAPs and become able to carry on deep conversations with the scientists, but he was curating the collection of artifacts well and keeping the library and archives in good shape. He had learned a lot in his time analyzing potsherds at the Institute.
Skip placed another plate down for himself. “Can I ask how serious this thing is with Tappan?”
“Is it really that obvious that we’re, you know…having a relationship?”
“Are you kidding? You go in there, supposedly for some quick meeting, and come back out two hours later, blooming. Yeah, it’s kind of obvious.”
Nora felt a wave of dismay. Of course, Skip was right, and in an ant farm like this, everybody would notice.
“Are people talking?”
“Not to me. But I’m sure they’re yakking it up among themselves.”
Oh God. It was a stupid thing they were doing—both for her and for Tappan—yet, once again, a part of her just didn’t care. It had been several years since Bill had died. She felt like something inside her was coming back to life—roaring back, in fact. At the same time, it was improper, inappropriate, and just plain reckless. Even more important, she had to be careful not to let her feelings cloud her professional judgment…and her objectivity. For example, she couldn’t let Lucas’s zealous belief in UFOs influence her own opinions.
On the other hand, life was short. And it was so much fun.
Skip laid a hand on her hand, suddenly serious. “Nora, you’re not going to let yourself get hurt, are you? I mean, Tappan must have a million girls chasing him: those dimples and gray eyes and all that money. I think it’s great you’re having a little amuse-bouche—you certainly deserve it—but I don’t want to see it go wrong.”
“It won’t.” Even as she said it, she had to admit to herself she’d fallen into the deep end of the pool. Where it was going, she had no idea—and she figured the best thing was to avoid thinking about it. It had only been two days, after all. They were both adults and knew what they were doing. Or so she told herself.
“Okay. Enough said.” Skip glanced at his watch. “Almost eight. Time for yet another meeting.”
They arrived at Quonset 1 a few minutes later. Banks had set up a digital projector and screen, and they all took seats. Tappan was already there, and as soon as everyone was seated, he rose.
“The lidar survey came in around five this morning,” he said. “Vitaly? Put it up.”
The lights darkened and an image flashed onto the screen, a grayscale map of the landscape in incredible detail. Tappan said nothing further, and the image hung there silently in the darkness.