like a scraggly brown mat that someone had left on a porch.
No matter, he thought. There was beauty down there. Just as there was beauty in the five-by-seven sepia photograph he had placed on the drop-down tray in front of him.
Cameron gazed again at the photo, a quality reproduction of the fragile original he had left in Providence, and focused on the subject. He had tried for days to purge her pretty face, lively eyes, and bewitching smile from his mind, but he had failed miserably. He found her image as irresistible as her life story and a mystery that continued to gnaw at him.
He had contacted Geoffrey Bell shortly after returning to his apartment on February 17. He had simply picked up his phone, dialed a number he had found on a university web site, and asked to speak to a man who was a direct link to both the woman and the mystery.
Cameron reached Bell a minute later and quickly explained his business. He said he had pages from Candice Bell's diary and wished to speak to him about some of the particulars.
Bell seemed interested but not interested enough to postpone a lunch with several faculty members. He asked Cameron to scan and e-mail a few of the pages and await a reply.
Cameron scanned three pages but sent only one. Suspecting that some of the information he possessed might be valuable, he provided the professor with a morsel and not a meal.
Bell called three hours later. He asked Cameron what he had.
When Cameron said he had scores of private papers, the professor offered an hour of his time. When he said that some papers mentioned time travel, Bell offered a trip to Los Angeles.
Cameron agreed to travel to California two weeks later. He told Bell he would share most, if not all, of the papers in his possession when he arrived.
The Rhode Islander pondered the significance of the brief but interesting phone call until a flight attendant, pushing a beverage cart, brought him back to the here and now.
"Would you like more coffee, sir?"
"I would," Cameron said.
He reached across two unoccupied seats and gave the attendant an empty paper cup. When she handed him a full cup a moment later, he placed it on his tray, organized some papers in an open briefcase in the adjacent seat, and resumed his work in his flying office.
Cameron considered reading the diary pages but ultimately decided against it. He had already perused the pages several times and wanted to take on something new. So he retrieved a few photocopies from his briefcase, placed them on his tray, and jumped in.
He turned first to an article about a man who seemed to be at the center of the mystery. He needed only minutes to discover that Percival Bell had been no ordinary scientist.
A geologist and a physicist by training, Percival had made a name for himself as a writer, educator, lecturer, and inventor. He had published eighty papers, obtained hundreds of patents, and gained the ear of statesmen like Benjamin Harrison, Grover Cleveland, and Theodore Roosevelt, whom he advised on a regular basis. He had also gained the respect and admiration of his peers, who in 1895 elected him vice president of the National Academy of Sciences.
Cameron slid the biography to the back of the pack and moved on to one that was just as interesting. This article, about Percival Bell's younger brother, recounted the life and times of a man who had taken a different path to prominence.
Born in Griffin, Indiana, in 1860, Henry Bell had cut his teeth in the military. He had served four years with the U.S. Army's Seventh Cavalry, fighting Indians in the Dakotas, before turning to civilian life and academics. After acquiring degrees in anthropology and linguistics, he had taught at three colleges, made a fortune in silver, and retired to the family farm.
Like Percival, he had lectured, traveled, and participated in scholarly ventures, such as the 1898 expedition to the Sierra Nevada. Like his brother, he had published several works, mingled with famous people, and
No matter, he thought. There was beauty down there. Just as there was beauty in the five-by-seven sepia photograph he had placed on the drop-down tray in front of him.
Cameron gazed again at the photo, a quality reproduction of the fragile original he had left in Providence, and focused on the subject. He had tried for days to purge her pretty face, lively eyes, and bewitching smile from his mind, but he had failed miserably. He found her image as irresistible as her life story and a mystery that continued to gnaw at him.
He had contacted Geoffrey Bell shortly after returning to his apartment on February 17. He had simply picked up his phone, dialed a number he had found on a university web site, and asked to speak to a man who was a direct link to both the woman and the mystery.
Cameron reached Bell a minute later and quickly explained his business. He said he had pages from Candice Bell's diary and wished to speak to him about some of the particulars.
Bell seemed interested but not interested enough to postpone a lunch with several faculty members. He asked Cameron to scan and e-mail a few of the pages and await a reply.
Cameron scanned three pages but sent only one. Suspecting that some of the information he possessed might be valuable, he provided the professor with a morsel and not a meal.
Bell called three hours later. He asked Cameron what he had.
When Cameron said he had scores of private papers, the professor offered an hour of his time. When he said that some papers mentioned time travel, Bell offered a trip to Los Angeles.
Cameron agreed to travel to California two weeks later. He told Bell he would share most, if not all, of the papers in his possession when he arrived.
The Rhode Islander pondered the significance of the brief but interesting phone call until a flight attendant, pushing a beverage cart, brought him back to the here and now.
"Would you like more coffee, sir?"
"I would," Cameron said.
He reached across two unoccupied seats and gave the attendant an empty paper cup. When she handed him a full cup a moment later, he placed it on his tray, organized some papers in an open briefcase in the adjacent seat, and resumed his work in his flying office.
Cameron considered reading the diary pages but ultimately decided against it. He had already perused the pages several times and wanted to take on something new. So he retrieved a few photocopies from his briefcase, placed them on his tray, and jumped in.
He turned first to an article about a man who seemed to be at the center of the mystery. He needed only minutes to discover that Percival Bell had been no ordinary scientist.
A geologist and a physicist by training, Percival had made a name for himself as a writer, educator, lecturer, and inventor. He had published eighty papers, obtained hundreds of patents, and gained the ear of statesmen like Benjamin Harrison, Grover Cleveland, and Theodore Roosevelt, whom he advised on a regular basis. He had also gained the respect and admiration of his peers, who in 1895 elected him vice president of the National Academy of Sciences.
Cameron slid the biography to the back of the pack and moved on to one that was just as interesting. This article, about Percival Bell's younger brother, recounted the life and times of a man who had taken a different path to prominence.
Born in Griffin, Indiana, in 1860, Henry Bell had cut his teeth in the military. He had served four years with the U.S. Army's Seventh Cavalry, fighting Indians in the Dakotas, before turning to civilian life and academics. After acquiring degrees in anthropology and linguistics, he had taught at three colleges, made a fortune in silver, and retired to the family farm.
Like Percival, he had lectured, traveled, and participated in scholarly ventures, such as the 1898 expedition to the Sierra Nevada. Like his brother, he had published several works, mingled with famous people, and
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