Murder on the Silk Road by Stefanie Matteson Page A

say, boss?”
    “I think that’s a very good idea,” Bert replied.
    Excusing themselves, the two men went out into the corridor and lowered all the windows which their colleague had just closed. The hot air hit them like a blast from a coal furnace, but at least it was moving.
    When Bert and Dogie returned, they poured another round of beers and continued their conversation about dinosaur extinction.
    “If all the evidence goes to the contrary, why is the catastrophe theory taken so seriously?” asked Charlotte as she sipped her beer. She had read a lot about the catastrophe theory in the newspapers.
    “Two reasons,” said Bert. “The main one is that there have never been any significant dinosaur fossils found above the K/T boundary layer. That’s not to say there will never be, only that there haven’t been so far.”
    “That would seem to be pretty strong evidence,” Charlotte observed.
    “Not really. We estimate that the dinosaurs lived on in reduced numbers for hundreds of thousands of years after the catastrophe. To us, that seems like a lot of time, but geologically speaking it’s an instant. Finding a fossil from that period would be the equivalent of finding the needle in the haystack.”
    “But when and if a significant fossil is found, it will blow the impact theory to kingdom come,” added Dogie.
    “What’s the other reason?” asked Charlotte.
    “The second reason is political,” Bert replied.
    “Political?”
    “If you believe that a catastrophic event caused a disruption in the earth’s climate significant enough to wipe out life on earth, then you must also believe that a nuclear war would lead to a nuclear winter that would wipe out life on earth, and therefore you are a pacifist.”
    “With God on your side,” said Dogie.
    “If, however, you believe that the dinosaurs died out gradually, then you must also believe that life could survive a nuclear war, and therefore you are undermining the nuclear-winter hypothesis. Which means that you are a militarist, at best; a right-wing warmonger, at worst.”
    “I’ve been called a helluva lot worse,” said Dogie.
    “By me, for one,” said Bert.
    “But that’s ridiculous,” said Charlotte.
    “Ridiculous, but true,” said Bert. “Grant proposals and research papers have been rejected because their authors—myself among them—contradicted the politically acceptable attitude toward dinosaur extinction.”
    “I know the mentality,” said Marsha. “Someone recently told me that the word Oriental had imperialist overtones. What are we supposed to do, change our name to the Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, etcetera, Institute?”
    Bert smiled at her with his navy-blue eyes. In the tiny compartment, the attraction between him and Marsha was almost palpable.
    “It sounds horrible,” said Charlotte. “Like the McCarthy era all over again, but in ideological reverse.”
    “Exactly,” Marsha agreed. “It’s like being called a Communist in the fifties was. Whatever explanation you offered, you were always suspect.”
    From where Charlotte was sitting she could see Orecchio making his way back down the corridor from the washroom. This was going to be interesting.
    “Speak of the devil,” said Dogie, who sat next to her.
    As he caught sight of the open windows, a frown crossed Orecchio’s beetled brow, and he began closing them all again.
    “I’m beginning to feel like I’m trapped in a sardine can on the floor of Death Valley,” said Dogie, wiping his brow again with the red bandanna. He stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have work to do.”
    Taking up a position to Orecchio’s left, he started methodically opening the windows which the geologist had just shut.
    By now, their duel over the windows had attracted the attention of the other passengers, most of whom appeared to be on Dogie’s side.
    His coordination hampered by his temper, Orecchio angrily fumbled with the latches. The more swiftly Dogie opened