the shape of the original metal plate from the Sarisariñama mask:
“You remember that McKinney said she wanted an impartial review of the mask?” she reminded him.
“I’m simply presenting her the facts. Cold, hard, undeniable facts.” To punch home his point, he crudely folded his two pieces of paper and then brought the tracings together:
Allowing for discrepancies in the cave painting’s portrayal, the photocopy enlargement and his own tracings, the upper edge of the Sarisariñama mask’s jaw piece met almost exactly with the lower edge of the Bouda mask’s forehead piece.
Sid actually felt a shiver of excitement rush through her boyfriend’s body.
“That’s it!” King exclaimed. “The proof! The proof that the Moon Mask was real and that the Black Death really existed. That he searched the globe for the pieces of it.” He smacked an excited kiss against Sid’s lips.
“Easy there, tiger,” she said, pushing him back. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s going to take more than two pieces of tracing paper to convince McKinney, let alone the rest of the academic world, that an escaped Gambian slave became a notorious pirate who scoured the earth in search of a magical mask. We don’t even know if the remains you found are African, and even if they are, how did a Gambian pirate end up in the middle of the Amazon rainforest, in a hidden temple that was built centuries before he was born?”
He looked at her, wounded. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, baby,” she said, stroking his cheek. “It’s just that we’re going to have to put together a strong argument to convince McKinney. And I hardly think that the middle of the night when you’ve got a party waiting for the guest of honour to arrive is really the time to do that.” She kissed him then smiled, her smooth Indian features glowing with warmth. She took his hand and led him out of the tent, towards the centre of camp where the large mess tent stood.
“Let’s go and celebrate,” she continued. “Then tomorrow we can work out how best to proceed.”
He paused, glancing the opposite way across the table-top plateau, his mind still reeling with the possibilities presented by his discovery. “You go,” he told her. “I’m just going to check in with Nadia first.”
Sid sighed. “Ben, I-”
“Sid,” a voice cut in. Two of the camp’s younger girls whose names King couldn’t even think to recall, hurried past, arm in arm, giggling drunkenly. “Mister Raine is looking for you.”
King noticed a shift in Sid’s expression then, subtle, but there nonetheless. Excitement? He chose to ignore it, too excited by his discovery to let a pang of jealousy sour his feelings.
“I’ll see you in a bit then,” Sid said and hurried off towards the mess tent. The two girls walked off, chatting about how they both wished ‘Mister Raine’ was looking for them .
King headed across the camp, scouting through the alleyways between tents. The camp was set back about thirty feet from the edge of the plateau. A cordon of red and yellow tape marked the inner boundary and a bright red one marked the outer one, just five feet from the sheer drop beyond. A warning to venture no further.
Nadia Yashina’s lab lay on the far side of the camp, near to the gaping black hole that was the Humboldt Sima. He could see lights inside and knew that the Russian woman would be far more interested in examining the human remains they had found than celebrating their discovery .
He trekked over to the lab and ducked inside. He froze just inside the flap as he saw Nadia standing over the skeleton, discussing her findings with Juliet McKinney.
The Scottish woman looked up at him, her curls of copper hair hanging about her face. Nadia, for her part, did her best to disguise a guilty expression.
“Doctor King,” McKinney began, a fake smile curving her lips. “Your timing is impeccable.” She turned
“You remember that McKinney said she wanted an impartial review of the mask?” she reminded him.
“I’m simply presenting her the facts. Cold, hard, undeniable facts.” To punch home his point, he crudely folded his two pieces of paper and then brought the tracings together:
Allowing for discrepancies in the cave painting’s portrayal, the photocopy enlargement and his own tracings, the upper edge of the Sarisariñama mask’s jaw piece met almost exactly with the lower edge of the Bouda mask’s forehead piece.
Sid actually felt a shiver of excitement rush through her boyfriend’s body.
“That’s it!” King exclaimed. “The proof! The proof that the Moon Mask was real and that the Black Death really existed. That he searched the globe for the pieces of it.” He smacked an excited kiss against Sid’s lips.
“Easy there, tiger,” she said, pushing him back. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s going to take more than two pieces of tracing paper to convince McKinney, let alone the rest of the academic world, that an escaped Gambian slave became a notorious pirate who scoured the earth in search of a magical mask. We don’t even know if the remains you found are African, and even if they are, how did a Gambian pirate end up in the middle of the Amazon rainforest, in a hidden temple that was built centuries before he was born?”
He looked at her, wounded. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, baby,” she said, stroking his cheek. “It’s just that we’re going to have to put together a strong argument to convince McKinney. And I hardly think that the middle of the night when you’ve got a party waiting for the guest of honour to arrive is really the time to do that.” She kissed him then smiled, her smooth Indian features glowing with warmth. She took his hand and led him out of the tent, towards the centre of camp where the large mess tent stood.
“Let’s go and celebrate,” she continued. “Then tomorrow we can work out how best to proceed.”
He paused, glancing the opposite way across the table-top plateau, his mind still reeling with the possibilities presented by his discovery. “You go,” he told her. “I’m just going to check in with Nadia first.”
Sid sighed. “Ben, I-”
“Sid,” a voice cut in. Two of the camp’s younger girls whose names King couldn’t even think to recall, hurried past, arm in arm, giggling drunkenly. “Mister Raine is looking for you.”
King noticed a shift in Sid’s expression then, subtle, but there nonetheless. Excitement? He chose to ignore it, too excited by his discovery to let a pang of jealousy sour his feelings.
“I’ll see you in a bit then,” Sid said and hurried off towards the mess tent. The two girls walked off, chatting about how they both wished ‘Mister Raine’ was looking for them .
King headed across the camp, scouting through the alleyways between tents. The camp was set back about thirty feet from the edge of the plateau. A cordon of red and yellow tape marked the inner boundary and a bright red one marked the outer one, just five feet from the sheer drop beyond. A warning to venture no further.
Nadia Yashina’s lab lay on the far side of the camp, near to the gaping black hole that was the Humboldt Sima. He could see lights inside and knew that the Russian woman would be far more interested in examining the human remains they had found than celebrating their discovery .
He trekked over to the lab and ducked inside. He froze just inside the flap as he saw Nadia standing over the skeleton, discussing her findings with Juliet McKinney.
The Scottish woman looked up at him, her curls of copper hair hanging about her face. Nadia, for her part, did her best to disguise a guilty expression.
“Doctor King,” McKinney began, a fake smile curving her lips. “Your timing is impeccable.” She turned
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