The Clouds Beneath the Sun Read Free

forms of vertebrate life, who did her Ph.D. under Frank Whittard. I expect she’s going to flake out at any minute, because she came directly from Cambridge in one day, but I want to welcome her formally to Kihara, and to tell her that her timing couldn’t be better … because I also want to offer a toast to Daniel.” She raised her glass. “Daniel, what would we do without you—Daniel, the lion of the gorge!”
    Around the table, glasses were raised.
    “Daniel!” they chorused. Someone did an imitation of a lion’s roar and they all laughed.
    For his part, Daniel Mutumbu didn’t touch his drink. He was the only black paleontologist on the team and didn’t really like champagne, or alcohol in general, come to that. But he smiled back at them.
    Eleanor turned to Natalie. “Normally, my dear, alcohol isn’t allowed here in Kihara.” She smiled. “But I suppose everyone knows I keep a few bottles of champagne handy for when we have something to celebrate—and we certainly have something to celebrate tonight.”
    She waited for the hubbub to die down. Two bottles between ten didn’t go very far but it was enough to loosen tongues.
    “Daniel, and Richard here, Richard Sutton, whom you will get to know, and Russell, Russell North … well, they made a discovery in the gorge today, an important discovery, a spectacular discovery—at least we think it is. They found a knee joint, a tibia and a femur, two leg bones of a hominid at a level which indicates that this early form of mankind walked upright here, right here, in Kihara, two million years ago. Early man left the trees and raised himself up on two legs in this very gorge.”
    “Yesss,” hissed Richard Sutton. He was thin, spare, fair-haired, handsome, Natalie thought. From what had been said earlier, as dinner was beginning, she knew he was a New Yorker, a full professor at Columbia University.
    Mutevu Ndekei had reached Eleanor’s place the second time round, with the vegetables. As she took some potatoes, she addressed herself to Richard Sutton and Russell North.
    North was a burly redhead with vivid blue eyes. He was taller than Sutton, taller than everyone else on the dig, with massive hands. He was Australian, Natalie had learned, though he lived in America too, as an associate professor at Berkeley in California. Freckles sprawled over his skin.
    “We’ll check tomorrow,” Eleanor went on, “but I agree the bones you found are hominid, human-like. On the small side, but you’d expect that. We’ll confirm the level of excavation tomorrow. I take it you photographed everything, and marked the site?” She sliced her potato.
    Richard colored. “Of course we did, Eleanor. We’re not novices, for Christ’s sake.”
    “Watch your language, Richard, please. I was just making sure you had everything covered. If this is as important as you say it is—and the champagne tonight means I think I agree with you—we are going to come under intense scrutiny from other colleagues. Our methods must be above suspicion. Don’t be so jumpy.”
    Richard was just draining his champagne glass and he wiped his lips with his napkin before replying. He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Eleanor. We made a sensational discovery, at the two million level. There’s no doubt about the date, the excavation itself was clean and neat, everything has been properly recorded and photographed. We fenced off the site with thorny acacia branches. We can build a proper fence tomorrow. Relax.” And he launched himself on his dinner.
    Eleanor nodded, watching him eat: his precise movements, his sharp features. One of the reasons she had selected Sutton for the dig was because he was a thorough, rigorous scientist, utterly competent, whose capacity for work matched her own. A New Yorker by birth, Sutton, she knew, was the son of a Manhattan lawyer, the right-hand man to a real estate millionaire, who had not been entirely happy when his son had shown academic leanings. But since