Colder Than Ice by Helen MacPherson Page B

been the excuse she was looking
for.”
    “So
how are the preparations going? Have you heard from Australia yet?”
    Michela
looked across the room at her digital tablet, aware she was woefully behind in
answering the e-mails that sat in her inbox. “To tell you the truth, I
haven’t been in touch with them. I’ve been so busy with this thing.”
    “I’ll
let you get back to it then. Make sure you let me know if you’re about to
disappear on another of your trips. Okay?”
    “No
problem. I’ll drop you an e-mail as soon as I know.” Over the telephone
came the sound of an intercom calling Christine’s name.
    “Sorry,
sis, I’m being paged. You know what it’s like. No rest for us surgeons.”
    “I
thought the saying was no rest for the wicked. I’ll talk to you later. Take
care.”
    Michela
walked to her digital tablet, sat down, and reviewed the messages in her inbox.
There were a number of increasingly insistent notes from Sarah, the last one a
short note, asking Michela if she’d dropped off the face of the earth.
    For
the first time in days Michela laughed. She composed a quick reply.
    Hi
Sarah,
    I’m
sorry I’ve been off-line for a while. There have been some personal issues I
had to take care of. Re whether I’ve spoken to Dr. Shaunessy since my trip to
New York, no I haven’t. But it’s on my short list of things to do today.
    I’m
happy to hear Dr. Shaunessy’s offered you a position on the expedition. It
would be great to finally meet you and discuss a few issues over coffee (or
something stronger)—not the least of which is one of the conditions surrounding
Ms. Finlayson providing the additional funds.
    I’ll
make this e-mail short so I can check what the good doctor has to say. I’ll
keep you posted.
    Regards,
    Michela
    She
touched the send button and shook her head. This project is difficult enough
with today’s technology. I’ll never understand how they ever got an expedition
off the ground over a hundred years ago. What a nightmare. She opened the
e-mail from the Flinders Museum. It was a quick message from Allison, asking
Michela whether she’d had any success with Ms. Finlayson. Michela closed her
eyes and groaned. I just know she’s not going to like what I’m going
to tell her. Can this week get any worse? She checked her world clock and
found it was morning in Australia.
    Good
morning Dr. Shaunessy,
    My
apologies in not getting back to you sooner but I had some immediate personal
business to see to. You’ll be pleased to know that Ms. Finlayson has agreed to
funding the remaining $200,000 and I’ll be speaking with a representative from
her company regarding the arrangements for the money.
    Unfortunately
her donation is conditional. She’s asked that should you find the body of her
ancestor that he be returned to her. The second condition is that I lead the
expedition. I would have preferred to discuss this with you in person, however
distances make this a little difficult. Rest assured that I see this position
as one of managerial oversight only and do not intend to interfere with the
actual dig.
    I
look forward to your reply,
    Michela
    Hoping
she’d explained herself without sounding too abrupt, Michela sent the message
and then settled down to answer the remaining messages in her inbox. She was
two-thirds of the way through the task when her phone beeped.
    “Dr.
DeGrasse, it’s Eric Stephenson. I’ve just had another meeting with Natalie’s
lawyer and it seems they’re ready to sign the settlement papers. Would you be
available this afternoon?”
    Michela
looked at the digital tablet’s screen. “I do have a bit of work to do, but
I’d really like to get this over and done with. Did they suggest a time?”
    “They’d
like to meet at two. Does that suit?”
    Michela
looked at her watch. An hour to travel what was only a small distance, at least
practically, if not emotionally. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll see you
then.”
    Michela
hung up, went upstairs to