a point of entry, a beginning to understanding, the least flicker of a hint as to what made him work. Leyster knew himself to be a methodical researcher; give him one end of a tangled thread and he wouldnât let go until heâd unraveled the entire snarl. All he needed was enough time and that one loose end.
And then Griffin did an extraordinary thing. It was the smallest of gestures, one Leyster wouldnât have noticed under ordinary circumstances. Now he found it riveting. Without looking, Griffin brushed back his sleeve to reveal a thick stainless steel watch. He clamped his hand over it, hiding the dial completely. Then he glanced down at the back of his hand.
He didnât release the watch until he had looked away.
Leyster had found his opening. Prodding gently, he said, âSo far, you havenât made much of a case.â
âIt gets worse,â Griffin said. So he had a sense of humor! Astonishing. âThere are restrictions. You wonât be allowed to publish. Oh, findings based on your own fieldwork, of courseââhe waved a dismissive hand at the HDTV screenââthat sort of stuff you may publish whenever. Provided it is first cleared by an internal committee to ensure youâre not taking advantage of information gained while working for us. Further, you wonât even be allowed to talk about your work with us. It will be classified. Weâll need your permission to have the FBI run a security check on you. Strictly routine. I assure you, it will turn up nothing embarrassing.â
âA security check? For paleontology? What the hell are you talking about?â
âI should also mention that there is a serious possibility of violent death.â
âViolent death. This is going to start making sense any minute now, right?â
âA man comes into your officeââGriffin leaned forward conspiratoriallyââand suggests that he has a very special job to offer you. By its very nature he canât tell you much about it until youâve committed yourself heart and soul. But he suggestsâhints, ratherâthat itâs your chance to be a part of the greatest scientific adventure since Darwinâs voyage on H.M.S. Beagle. What would you think?â
âWell, heâd certainly have my interest.â
âIf it were true,â Griffin said with heavy irony.
âYes,â Leyster agreed. âIf it were true.â
Griffin smiled. On his coarse-featured face, it looked sad. âWell, then, I believe Iâve told you all you need to know.â
Leyster waited, but he said no more.
âForgive me for saying so, but this is the damnedest pitch Iâve ever heard in my life. You havenât said one thing to make your offer attractive to meâquite the opposite. You say that Iâll need FBI clearance, that I wonât be allowed to publish, that I might ⦠Frankly, I canât think of a set of arguments that would be less conducive to my coming to work for you.â
There was an amused glint in Griffinâs eye, as if Leysterâs reaction were precisely what he had been hoping to provoke.
Or was this only what he wanted Leyster to think?
No, that was a paranoid line of reasoning. It was not the way Leyster normally thought, not the way he liked to think. He was accustomed to questioning an essentially impassive universe. The physical world might be maddeningly close-lipped about its secrets, but it didnât lie, and it never actively tried to deceive you.
Still, the corrupting influence of the man was such that it was hard not to think along such lines.
Again, Griffin clamped his hand over his watch. Glancing down at it, he said, âYouâll take the position anyway.â
âAnd the reasoning upon which you base this extraordinary conclusion isâ?â
Griffin put the cooler on Leysterâs desk. âThis is a gift. Thereâs only one string attachedâyou will
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