p&c.thunderhead-第16章

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wo　fingers　into　it。　Then　he　added　water　from　a　canteen　and　swirled　the　yellowish　mixture。　He　rehung　the　canteen　on　a　davit　bolt　and　offered　the　glass　around。　
　〃What　is　that？〃　Black　asked。　
　〃Pernod；〃　came　the　reply。　〃Lovely　for　a　hot　day。〃　
　〃I　don't　drink；〃　said　Black。　
　〃I　do；〃　Smithback　said。　〃Hand　it　on　over。〃　
　Nora　glanced　back　at　Willard　Hicks；　who　tapped　an　imaginary　watch　on　his　wrist。　She　nodded　in　understanding　and　slipped　the　mooring　lines　from　the　dock。　There　was　an　answering　roar　from　the　diesels；　and　the　boat　began　backing　away　from　the　ramp　with　a　hideous　scraping　sound。　
　Holroyd　glanced　around。　〃What　about　Dr。　Goddard？〃　
　〃We　can't　wait　around　here　any　longer；〃　Nora　said。　She　felt　a　strange　sense　of　relief：　maybe　she　wasn't　going　to　have　to　deal　with　this　mysterious　daughter；　after　all。　Let　Sloane　Goddard　e　after　them；　if　she　wanted。　
　The　team　looked　at　one　another　in　surprise　as　the　barge　began　a　slow　turn；　the　water　boiling　out　from　the　stern。　Hicks　gave　a　short　blast　on　the　airhorn。　
　〃You've　got　to　be　kidding！〃　Black　cried。　〃You　aren't　really　leaving　without　her？〃　
　Nora　looked　steadily　back　at　the　sweaty；　incredulous　face。　〃Oh；　yes；〃　she　said。　〃I'm　really　leaving　without　her。〃　
　
　
14
　
　THREE　HOURS　LATER；　THE　LANDLOCKED　Laura　had　left　the　chaos　of　Wahweap　Marina　fifty　miles　behind。　The　wide　prow　of　the　barge　cut　easily　through　the　turquoise　surface　of　Lake　Powell；　engines　throbbing　slightly；　the　water　hissing　along　the　pontoons。　Gradually；　the　powerboats；　the　shrieking　jetskis；　the　garish　houseboats　had　all　dropped　away。　The　expedition　had　entered　into　a　great　mystical　world　of　stone；　and　a　cathedral　silence　closed　around　them。　Now　they　were　alone　on　the　green　expanse　of　lake；　walled　in　by　thousand…foot　bluffs　and　slickrock　desert。　The　sun　hung　low　over　the　Grand　Bench；　with　Neanderthal　Cove　appearing　on　the　right；　and　the　distant　opening　of　Last　Chance　Bay　to　the　left。　
　Thirty　minutes　before；　Luigi　Bonarotti　had　served　a　meal　of　cognac…braised；　applewood…smoked　quail　with　grapefruit　and　wilted　arugula　leaves。　This　remarkable　acplishment；　achieved　somehow　on　the　shabby　gas　grill；　had　silenced　even　Black's　undertone　of　plaints。　They　had　dined　around　the　aluminum　table；　toasting　the　meal　with　a　crisp　Orvieto。　Now　the　group　was　arranged　around　the　barge　in　lethargic　contemplation　of　the　meal；　awaiting　landfall　at　the　trailhead。　
　Smithback；　who　had　dined　very　well　and　consumed　an　alarming　quantity　of　wine；　was　sitting　with　Black。　Before　dinner；　the　writer　had　made　some　cracks　about　camp　cooking　and　varmint　stew；　but　the　arrival　of　the　meal　changed　his　tone　to　one　approaching　veneration。　
　〃Didn't　you　also　write　that　book　on　the　museum　murders　in　New　York　City？〃　Black　was　asking。　Smithback's　face　broke　into　an　immensely　gratified　smile。　
　〃And　that　subway　massacre　a　few　years　back？〃　
　Smithback　reached　for　an　imaginary　hat　and　doffed　it　with　a　grandiose　flourish。　
　Black　scratched　his　chin。　〃Don't　get　me　wrong；　I　think　it's　great；〃　he　said。　〃It's　just　that　。　。　。　well；　I've　always　understood　that　the　Institute　was　a　low…profile　entity。〃　
　〃Well；　the　fact　is　I'm　no　longer　Bill　Smithback；　terror　of　the　tabloids；〃　Smithback　replied。　〃I　work　for　the　buttoned…down；　respectable　New　York　Times　now；　occupying　the　position　formerly　held　by　a　certain　Bryce　Harriman。　Poor　Bryce。　He　covered　the　subway　massacre；　too。　Such　a　pity　that　my　masterpiece　of　investigative　reportage　was　his　lost　opportunity。〃　He　turned　and　grinned　at　Nora。　〃You　see；　I'm　a　paragon　of　journalistic　respectability　that　even　a　place　as　stuffy　as　your　Institute　can't　object　to。〃　
　Nora　caught　herself　as　she　was　about　to　smile。　There　was　nothing　amusing　in　the　journalist's　braggadocio；　even　if　it　was　tempered　with　a　touch　of　self…deprecation。　She　looked　away　with　a　stab　of　irritation；　wondering　again　at　Goddard's　idea　of　bringing　a　journalist　along。　She　looked　toward　Holroyd；　who　was　sitting　on　the　metal　floor　of　the　barge；　elbows　on　his　knees；　reading　what　to　Nora's　mind　was　a　real　book：　a　battered　paperback　copy　of　Coronado　and　the　City　of　Gold。　As　she　watched　him；　Holroyd　looked　up　and　smiled。　
　Aragon　was　standing　at　the　bowrail；　and　Roscoe　Swire　was　again　by　the　horses；　wad　of　tobacco　fingered　into　his　cheek；　jotting　in　a　battered　journal　and　occasionally　murmuring　to　the　animals。　Bonarotti　was　quietly　smoking　a　postprandial　cigarette；　one　leg　thrown　over　the　other；　head　tilted　back；　enjoying　the　air。　Nora　was　surprised　and　grateful　for　the　cook's　efforts　on　this　first　day　of　the　journey。　Nothing　like　a　good　meal　to　bring　people　together；　she　thought；　replaying　in　her　mind　the　lively　meal；　the　friendly　arguments　about　the　origins　of　the　Clovis　hunters；　and　the　proper　way　to　excavate　a　cave　sequence。　Even　Black　had　relaxed　and　told　an　exceedingly　foul　joke　involving　a　proctologist；　a　giant　sequoia；　and　tree…ring　dating。　Only　Aragon　had　remained　silent…not　aloof；　exactly；　just　remote。　
　She　glanced　over　at　him；　standing　motionless　at　the　rail；　gazing　out　into　the　fading　light；　his　eyes　hard。　Three　months　on　the　Gallegos　Divide；　excavating　the　burned　jacal　site；　had　taught　her　that　the　human　dynamic　in　an　expedition　of　this　sort　was　of　crucial　importance；　and　she　didn't　like　his　resolute　silence。　Something　was　not　right　with　him。　Casually；　she　strolled　forward　until　she　was　standing　at　the　rail　beside　him。　He　looked　over；　then　nodded　politely。　
　〃Quite　a　dinner；〃　she　said。　
　〃Astonishing；〃　said　Aragon；　folding　his　brown　hands　over　the　railing。　〃Signore　Bonarotti　is　to　be　plimented。　What　do　you　suppose　is　in　that　curio　box　of　his？〃　
　He　was　referring　to　an　antique　wooden　chuckbox　with　innumerable　tiny　partments　the　cook　kept　locked　and　under　jealous　guard。　
　〃No　idea；〃　Nora　said。　
　〃I　can't　imagine　how　he　managed　it。〃　
　〃You　watch。　It'll　be　salt　pork　and　hardtack　tomorrow。〃　
　They　laughed　together；　an　easy　laugh；　and　once　again　Aragon　gazed　forward；　toward　the　lake　and　its　vast　ramparts　of　stone。　
　〃You've　been　here　before？〃　Nora　asked。　
　Something　flitted　across　the　hollow　eyes：　the　shadow　of　a　strong　emotion；　quickly　concealed。　〃In　a　way。〃　
　〃It's　a　beautiful　lake；〃　Nora　went　on；　uncertain　how　to　engage　the　man　in　conversation。　
　There　was　a　silence。　At　last；　Aragon　turned　toward　her　again。　〃Forgive　me　if　I　don't　agree。〃　
　Nora　looked　at　him　more　closely。　
　〃Back　in　the　early　sixties　I　was　an　assistant　on　an　expedition　that　tried　to　document　sites　here　in　Glen　Canyon；　before　it　was　drowned　by　Lake　Powell。〃　
　Suddenly；　Nora　understood。　〃Were　there　many？〃　
　〃We　were　able　to　document　perhaps　thirty…five；　and　partially　excavate　twelve；　before　the　water　engulfed　them。　But　the　estimate　of　total　sites　ran　to　about　six　thousand。　I　think　my　interest　in　ZST　dates　from　that　event。　I　remember　shoveling　out…shoveling　out…　a　kiva；　water　lapping　just　three　feet　below。　That　was　no　way　to　treat　a　sacred　site；　but　we　had　no　choice。　The　water　was　about　to　destroy　it。〃　
　〃What's　a　kiva？〃　Smithback　asked　as　he　strolled　over；　his　new　cowboy　boots　creaking　on　the　rubber　deck。　〃And　who　were　the　Anasazi；　anyway？〃　
　〃A　kiva　is　the　circular；　sunken　structure　that　was　the　center　of　Anasazi　religious　activity　and　secret　ceremonies；〃　Nora　said。　〃It　was　usually　entered　through　a　hole　in　the　roof。　And　the　Anasazi　were　the　Native　Americans　who　peopled　this　region　a　thousand　years　ago。　They　built　cities；　shrines；　irrigation　systems；　signaling　stations。　And　then；　around　1150　A。D。　their　civilization　suddenly　collapsed。〃　
　There　was　a　silence。　Black　joined　the　group。　〃Were　these　sites　you　worked　on　important？〃　he　asked；　working　a　toothpick　between　two　molars。　
　Aragon　looked　up。　〃Are　there　any　unimportant　sites？〃　
　〃Of　course；〃　Black　sniffed。　〃Some　sites　have　more　to　say　than　others。　A　few　poor　outcast　Anasazi；　scrabbling　out　a　living　in　a　cave　for　ten　years；　don't　leave　us　as　much　information　as；　say；　a　thousand　people　living　in　a　cliff　dwelling　for　two　centuries。〃　
　Aragon　looked　coolly　at　Black。　〃There's　enough　information　in　a　single　Anasazi　pot　to　occupy　a　researcher　for　his　entire　career。　Perhaps　it's　not　a　matter　of　unimportant　sites；　but　unimportant　archaeologists。〃　
　Black's　face　darkened。　
　〃What　sites　did　you　work　on？〃　Nora　asked　quickly。　
　Aragon　nodded　toward　an　open　reach　of　water　to　starboard。　〃About　a　mile　over　there；　maybe　four　hundred　feet　down；　is　the　Music　Temple。〃　
　〃The　Music　Temple？〃　Smithback　echoed。　
　〃A　great　hollow　in　the　canyon　wall；　where　the　winds　and　the　waters　of　the　Colorado　River　bined　to　make　haunting；　unearthly　sounds。　John　Wesley　Powell　discovered　and　named　it。　We　excavated　the　floor　and　found　a　rare　Archaic　site；　along　with　many　others　in　the　vicinity。〃　He　pointed　in　another　direction。　〃And　over　there　was　a　site　called　the　Wishing　Well；　a　Pueblo　III　cliff　dwelling　of　eight　rooms；　built　around　an　unusually　deep　kiva。　A　small　site；　trivial；　of　no　importance。〃　He　glanced　pointedly　at　Black。　〃In　that　site；　the　Anasazi　had　buried　with　loving　care　two　small　girls；　wrapped　in　woven　textiles；　with　necklaces　of　flowers　and　seashells。　But　by　then　there　was　no　time　left。　We　couldn't　save　the　burials；　the　water　was　already　rising。　Now　the　water　has　dissolved　the　burials；　the　adobe　masonry　that　held　the　stones　of　the　city　in　place；　destroyed　all　the　delicate　artifacts。〃　
　Black　snorted　and　shook　his　head。　〃Hand　me　a　tissue；　somebody。〃　
　The　boat　moved　past　the　Grand　Bench。　Nora　could　see　the　dark　prow　of　the　Kaiparowits　Plateau　rising　far　behind　it；　wild；　inaccessible；　tinged　dusky　rose　by　the　setting　sun。　As　if　in　response；　the　boat　began　to　turn；　heading　for　a　narrow　opening　in　the　sandstone　walls：　the　foot　of　Serpentine　Canyon。　
　Once　the　boat　was　inside　the　narrow　confines　of　the　canyon；　the　water　turned　a　deeper　green。　The　sheer　walls　plunged　straight　down；　so　perfectly　reflected　it　was　hard　to　tell　where　stone　stopped　and　water　began。　The　captain　had　told　Nora　that　almost　nobody　came　up　into　that　canyon：　there　were　no　camping　sites　or　beaches；　and　the　walls　were　so　high　and　sheer　that　hiking　was　impossible。　
　Holroyd　stretched。　〃I've　been　reading　about　Quivira；〃　he　said；　indicating　the　book。　〃It's　an　amazing　story。　Listen　to　this：　
　The　Cicuye　Indians　brought　forward　a　slave　to　show　the　General；　who　they　had　captured　in　a　distant　land。　The　General　questioned　the　slave　through　interpreters。　The　slave　told　him　about　a　distant　city；　called　Quivira。　It　is　a　holy　city；　he　said；　where　the　rain　priests　live；　who　guard　the　records　of　their　history　from　the　beginning　of　time。　He　said　it　was　a　city　of　great　wealth。　mon　table　service　was　of　the　purest　smoothed　gold；　and　the　pitchers；　dishes　and　bowls　were　also　of　gold；　refined；　polished　and　decorated。　He　said　they　despised　all　other　materials。〃　
　〃Aaah；〃　Smithback　said；　rubbing　his　hands　with　an　exaggerated　air。　〃I　like　that：　they　despised　all　other　materials。　Gold。　Such　a　pleasant　word；　don't　you　think？〃　
　〃There　isn't　a　shred　of　evidence　of　any　Anasazi　Indians　having　gold；〃　Nora　said。　
　〃Dinner　plates　made　of　gold？〃　Smithback　said。　〃Excuse　me；　Madame　Chairman；　but　that　sounds　pretty　specific　to　me。〃　
　〃Then　prepare　to　be　disappointed；〃　said　Nora。　〃The　Indians　were　only　telling　Coronado　what　they　knew　he　wanted　to