Paradox. Alex Archer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ malfunctions,” Baron said. “Only a few shots one of them took on his cell phone actually came out.”

      Annja raised an eyebrow at him. Taitt pushed a sheet of paper at her. On it were printed several blurry photographs.

      Her frown deepened as she studied them. “This could be anything.” It looked big. It even looked vaguely ship-shaped.

      She shoved the printout back at Taitt. “Then again, so do a lot of things. If I understand correctly the usual scientific explanation for the Anomaly is either a basalt extrusion or some kind of naturally occurring structure in the glacier itself. I don’t see anything here to make me think differently.”

      “Ah, but the men who were there, Ms. Creed,” Bostitch said, “they saw. And they know.”

      “None of you was on this expedition?” she asked.

      “Unfortunately, no,” Bostitch said.

      “And can I talk with anybody who was?”

      “Unfortunately,” Taitt said, the young lawyer coming out, “it would be inadvisable at this time.”

      Meaning, somewhere along the way they had stepped on serious toes, she figured. And they were hiding out. Or…worse? They played for keeps in that part of the world. They always had. It was something she suspected U.S. policymakers, even many of their grunts on the ground, failed to really appreciate.

      It was a game Annja was far too familiar with. She’d played for such stakes before. She didn’t doubt she would again.

      But not for a wild-goose chase like this.

      “Gentlemen,” she said, “thank you for a wonderful dinner. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get home. I got an early start this morning.”

      That was true. And while the flight from Montreal to New York had been anything but lengthy the attendant hassles and stresses of air travel constituted a sort of irreducible minimum. She always thought so-called “security” measures—which would make any serious-minded terrorist bust out laughing—couldn’t get more intrusive or obnoxious. Any kind of air travel these days was exhausting.

      She rose. Larry Taitt stood up hastily, knocking his chair over. “You mean you won’t do it?” he said in alarm, turning and fumbling to set the chair back up.

      “That’s exactly what she means,” Baron said evenly.

      “Are you sure you won’t consider it, Ms. Creed?” Bostitch said, also standing up politely, if with less attendant melodrama. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

      “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said.

      3

      Annja’s cell phone started ringing as she closed the door to her loft apartment behind her. As she fastened the various bolts, safety bars and locks with one hand she took the phone out with the other and checked who was calling.

      “Doug Morrell,” she said aloud. “That can’t be good.” Morrell was the boy wonder producer of the television show she worked for. Although she genuinely liked Doug, he could be trying at the best of times.

      Despite her better judgment she held the phone to her ear.

      “Hello?” Once again, her curiosity had the better of her. Damn it anyway.

      “Annja?”

      “Did you forget who you were calling, Doug? Or did you hit the wrong speed-dial button again?”

      “Huh? What?”

      “Never mind. What do you want, Doug? It’s late.”

      “If you had any kind of social life the evening would just be starting.”

      “You’re starting to sound like a nagging mother, Doug. What is it?”

      “I’m doing you a favor here, sweetheart. You should thank me.”

      “Maybe if I knew what it was.”

      “Something’s come down from Corporate. Something hot.”

      “You know what they say rolls downhill, Doug. It’s pretty hot sometimes, too.”

      “Annja, just, like, listen for a change.” This from Doug, who had the attention span of one of those little midges that live for six hours. “This is actually a good idea. Not like those other ones. Have you ever heard of Mount Ararat?”

      She suddenly teetered over to her sofa. The end nearer the door was stacked with archaeological journals and printouts of recently submitted papers. Her legs were suddenly so shaky she sat right on top of the foot-high pile.

      “Yes. I’ve heard of Ararat.”

      “So, like, it turns out Noah’s Ark is on top of the freaking mountain. Who knew?”

      Anyone who watches our rival cable networks, for starters, she thought. “Doug, we don’t know it’s Noah’s Ark. For one thing, the mountain’s seventeen thousand feet high.”

      “Really? That’s a lot of rain. Anyway, there’s an expedition headed up it. Nothing to worry about, it’s an American operation all the way, not run by any people from Madagascar or wherever. You’d be their pet archaeologist. You’d also have a team from the show along to shoot everything. Do you hear what I’m saying, here, Annja? You’re working for them and us. You’re double-dipping, all open and aboveboard.”

      “Wow,” Annja said.

      “Try to muster some excitement, here. Because wait, there’s more. If the suits decide to run with this you will be talent and producer for that episode. You, in person. Annja Creed.”

      That actually penetrated her fog of dismay and incipient paranoia. “You’re kidding!” It meant that the show’s coverage might actually feature her real archaeology instead of the entertainment bits that usually won out.

      “Not at all, kiddo. Not at all. Focus groups say America’s getting tired of the superficial. They want their infotainment shows to be more serious.”

      “Do they, now?”

      “So what do you say? Yes?”

      “I say I’m tired, Doug. This is a lot to heap on my plate. Let me sleep on it, at least.”

      “What’s to think about?”

      “Plenty,” she said grimly. “Look, Doug. Thank you. I really, really appreciate that you’re looking out for me. But I need to think about it.”

      “Don’t think about it too long, babe. You know network. It’s got the attention span of a hyperthyroid weasel.”

      She broke the connection, in case he had any further blandishments to offer. He really did mean well, in his air-headed way.

      Her shoulders slumped. She tossed the phone on the sofa and rubbed her face with her hands.

СКАЧАТЬ