all they had been for each other kept her in place. Yet, as Stanton looked toward his wife, Kyle realized she should leave them. If, God forbid, he did not make it through this, he and Leila deserved their time together.
With an ostentatious look at her watch, she spun, “I was planning to cancel my afternoon seminar, but with you doing so much better, I think I’ll go ahead and teach.”
Stanton mumbled something she had to bend closer to hear.
“You and Hollis …” A bit of spittle escaped his mouth. “Now, no referee …”
How quickly he defined the animosity beneath the surface of every encounter she had with fellow scientist Hollis … or Dr. Delbert, as he insisted, though almost everyone he worked with had a Ph.D. The slight blond scientist peered at the world through wire-framed spectacles and pitched himself at the Institute as everybody’s friend … except Kyle’s. Although he was in his late thirties, he spoke in a breathless rush that people other than she interpreted as boyish enthusiasm.
“You’ll be back and keep us from each other’s throats,” she assured.
Stanton gave a strained bark. “Not by Monday.”
“Oh, God.” In this morning’s wake, she’d forgotten there were only six days to their funding meeting.
He gripped her hand. “Hollis came to me recently … asked me to make him … head of Institute … when I retire.”
Her heart began a rapid pattering like she’d just searched her purse and found her wallet missing. If Hollis were in charge, she had an idea what would happen to her Yellowstone funding.
“Watch your back,” Stanton warned. “Tell Hollis I said … you’re to chair the meeting.”
On the drive to the Institute, Kyle still couldn’t believe Stanton had been struck down. From his unfailing energy, she had assumed he would work well into his seventies.
That didn’t mean everyone else at the Institute was brain dead. Back in the nineties, when Stanton asked her to leave government bureaucracy and teach, she’d been re-reminded that academic funding was more about ass-kissing than science. It was especially difficult dealing with Hollis, who had joined the Institute two years ago from UCLA and seemed to think his prior credentials made him an instant shark in the Utah fishbowl.
This morning’s crisis having shattered her habitual control, she strode into the geology building and found Hollis in the seismograph lab before a computer terminal. The small-framed scientist turned toward the sound of her footsteps and hit a key that brought up his screen saver. A laughing Golden Retriever who looked a lot like Max filled the screen.
Kyle tried telling herself that if Hollis liked Goldens, he couldn’t be all bad.
“I’ve just come from Stanton,” she said coldly. “He’s in bad shape, but was able to talk about Monday’s meeting.”
Though Hollis pushed back his chair and stood, she was able to look down on his head with its bad comb-over. Sparse blond stubble on his jaw suggested he might be growing a beard, but his thin moustache bespoke a difficult time ahead.
Taking off his wire frame glasses, Hollis rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What did Stanton tell you?”
“He told me about your going behind my back asking him to make you Director. And he said for me to take charge at the meeting Monday.”
Hollis’s complexion took on a splotchy flush. “I’ll never be part of your inside track with Stanton …” His breath started to come fast. “All you have to watch is Yellowstone while I take care of the Wasatch where millions of people live. On Monday, I’m making a pitch for more support.”
Kyle slammed her hand on the top of the nearest monitor. “You know millions of dollars were spent in Salt Lake setting up a real-time seismic network for the 2002 Winter Olympics.” If the Wasatch Fault let go, reports from a network of sensors would arrive within seconds to guide rescue workers toward the worst damage.
“You’ve got all
With an ostentatious look at her watch, she spun, “I was planning to cancel my afternoon seminar, but with you doing so much better, I think I’ll go ahead and teach.”
Stanton mumbled something she had to bend closer to hear.
“You and Hollis …” A bit of spittle escaped his mouth. “Now, no referee …”
How quickly he defined the animosity beneath the surface of every encounter she had with fellow scientist Hollis … or Dr. Delbert, as he insisted, though almost everyone he worked with had a Ph.D. The slight blond scientist peered at the world through wire-framed spectacles and pitched himself at the Institute as everybody’s friend … except Kyle’s. Although he was in his late thirties, he spoke in a breathless rush that people other than she interpreted as boyish enthusiasm.
“You’ll be back and keep us from each other’s throats,” she assured.
Stanton gave a strained bark. “Not by Monday.”
“Oh, God.” In this morning’s wake, she’d forgotten there were only six days to their funding meeting.
He gripped her hand. “Hollis came to me recently … asked me to make him … head of Institute … when I retire.”
Her heart began a rapid pattering like she’d just searched her purse and found her wallet missing. If Hollis were in charge, she had an idea what would happen to her Yellowstone funding.
“Watch your back,” Stanton warned. “Tell Hollis I said … you’re to chair the meeting.”
On the drive to the Institute, Kyle still couldn’t believe Stanton had been struck down. From his unfailing energy, she had assumed he would work well into his seventies.
That didn’t mean everyone else at the Institute was brain dead. Back in the nineties, when Stanton asked her to leave government bureaucracy and teach, she’d been re-reminded that academic funding was more about ass-kissing than science. It was especially difficult dealing with Hollis, who had joined the Institute two years ago from UCLA and seemed to think his prior credentials made him an instant shark in the Utah fishbowl.
This morning’s crisis having shattered her habitual control, she strode into the geology building and found Hollis in the seismograph lab before a computer terminal. The small-framed scientist turned toward the sound of her footsteps and hit a key that brought up his screen saver. A laughing Golden Retriever who looked a lot like Max filled the screen.
Kyle tried telling herself that if Hollis liked Goldens, he couldn’t be all bad.
“I’ve just come from Stanton,” she said coldly. “He’s in bad shape, but was able to talk about Monday’s meeting.”
Though Hollis pushed back his chair and stood, she was able to look down on his head with its bad comb-over. Sparse blond stubble on his jaw suggested he might be growing a beard, but his thin moustache bespoke a difficult time ahead.
Taking off his wire frame glasses, Hollis rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What did Stanton tell you?”
“He told me about your going behind my back asking him to make you Director. And he said for me to take charge at the meeting Monday.”
Hollis’s complexion took on a splotchy flush. “I’ll never be part of your inside track with Stanton …” His breath started to come fast. “All you have to watch is Yellowstone while I take care of the Wasatch where millions of people live. On Monday, I’m making a pitch for more support.”
Kyle slammed her hand on the top of the nearest monitor. “You know millions of dollars were spent in Salt Lake setting up a real-time seismic network for the 2002 Winter Olympics.” If the Wasatch Fault let go, reports from a network of sensors would arrive within seconds to guide rescue workers toward the worst damage.
“You’ve got all
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