"I take it you all know him," Lindsay said to Harper as they turned and walked back into the building.
"He comes around sometimes. He lives on the mainland near the coast somewhere. He and his son used to come here years ago to fish and prospect, before the state took it over and made it a preserve. He's a harmless old guy. Lonely, I think."
Bobbie and Harper led Lindsay through the lobby into a hallway. Lindsay peeked into rooms as she passed. In the first, several people around a table greeted her curious gaze with frowns. She assumed they were from the Biology Department.
"This is a private meeting," one of the men said.
"This is Dr. Chamberlain," introduced Bobbie, as if there were no hostile undercurrent. "This is Mike Altman.... He's Tessa's husband."
"Look," said Tessa. "What does it take to get through to you people? We aren't interested in being your friends."
Lindsay thought she noticed embarrassment on the faces of some of the others. She was glad she was staying on the barge.
The room across from them was filled with computers, printers, and an array of other electronic equipment, and a chessboard sitting on a table in one corner.
"This is where our two meteorologists keep track of the weather for us," said Bobbie. "They've got global positioning equipment and a lot of other neat stuff." She waved at a guy sitting at a terminal. "Good weather ahead?" she asked.
"So far, looks great," he answered.
"This is Dr. Chamberlain. She works with bones." Bobbie introduced two of the weather crew, Terry Lyons and William Kuzniak. After a few words about the weather, they continued down the hall.
At the end of the hallway, a stairwell led to the ground floor where the conservation crew did their work.
"We meet down here almost every day to debrief," Bobbie said. "You'll want to meet the conservators. The stuff they do is really interesting."
The head conservator, Carolyn Taylor, took Lindsay's hand, pumped it up and down, and introduced her to another conservator, Korey Jordan. Korey worked mainly with the iron objects and made technical drawings of all the artifacts.
"You should see his drawings. They're wonderful. Korey's had several showings of his work in New York."
Lindsay could almost see Korey's smooth, dark-chocolate skin blush under the praise Carolyn bestowed upon his work. His shoulder-length dreadlocks fell forward as he bowed his head, an unconscious effort to hide from her compliments. Carolyn slapped him on the back.
"He won't sing his own praises," she said. "Someone has to. I heard you found the first skeleton. We can't wait to get him-her?" Carolyn stopped, waiting for Lindsay's answer, a broad smile on her face.
"Him," Lindsay said, looking around at the various containers-giant glass aquariums, opaque tubs, and shallow traysholding artifacts being treated. Carolyn had been working on a shoe with a dental tool. The shoe Gina found was evidently not the first. Before leather could be rendered stable enough to work with, it had to be treated, sometimes for several weeks, with a solvent to replace the water that permeated the tissues.
"Want to see some of the stuff we've found?"
Lindsay nodded and went from container to container looking at beads, pearls, a pewter cup and plate, a wooden pepper mill, a thimble, a caulker's mallet, carved ivory tools of some kind, large ceramic jars, sheets of mounted fabric soaking in what smelled like acetone, iron concretions waiting for Korey to pour a casting substance in them to make a mold of whatever iron object used to be inside.
"We have two barrels and a sea chest in tanks over at the warehouse where the ship's timbers are being taken. They weigh over a hundred pounds apiece. We put all the heavy stuff over there," Carolyn said. "We've already found enough artifacts to keep us busy for years."
"Is this an astrolabe?" asked Lindsay, pointing to an object in a tub of liquid. Both Korey and Carolyn nodded their heads vigorously.
"Cool, isn't it?" Korey smiled. "I don't envy you guys at the dam at all. This is the most fun part of the project."
Bobbie grinned back at them. "Maybe, but there is nothing like the feel of the initial find."
"I understand Lewis is going to build a museum?" asked Lindsay.
"I wouldn't be surprised. Cisco is backing this project to the hilt."
Cisco, thought Lindsay. Carolyn must be one of Francisco Lewis's people. Hardly anyone else ever called him that.
"Is he building a theme park?" Lindsay asked.
"A theme park?" Korey echoed. "You mean with rides? Where did you hear that?"
Carolyn laughed.
"Tessa thinks he is. She had a fax. I didn't see where it was from."
"Oh," said Carolyn. "Those people have a new rumor every day. Theme park. That's the stupidest one they've had yet."
"I understand we kind of usurped their space."
"Well," Carolyn said, "that's the breaks. It's not that those people haven't done it to us archaeologists enough times. You're from UGA campus, aren't you?" she said, changing the subject. "You know Gerri Chapman?"
"I've worked with her a couple of times," Lindsay said, eyeing Carolyn closely. Gerri Chapman was one of Francisco Lewis's favorites. She had preceded Lewis to campus and tried her best to get Lindsay's job as head of the osteology lab. Carolyn smiled, a knowing kind of smile. It wasn't an expression of disapproval, but one that said she would like to hear the story over a bottle of beer sometime. "She came to UGA with Lewis," Lindsay added-probably unnecessarily.
"Well, speak of the devil," Carolyn said, looking over Lindsay's left shoulder.
Chapter 7
LINDSAY TURNED AND came face-to-face with the hawkish countenance of Francisco Lewis.
"Dr. Chamberlain. Now that you've seen the dam, the lab, the crew, and the research plan, what do you think? Can I cook or what?" He grinned.
Lewis's teeth were so white, Lindsay was sure he must have them bleached regularly.
"I must give the devil his due."
Lewis laughed out loud, put an arm around her shoulders, and gave her a gentle shake.
"Trey tells me you found a human skeleton today. I knew you were right for this dig." His dark eyes glimmered and his mouth turned up in a slight, lopsided smile.
He knew I was right for the dig? Lindsay thought. Even though she had not been reassigned to a smaller office or lost the faunal lab, when her summer osteology courses were given to Gerri Chapman to teach, she had thought Lewis was beginning a campaign to ease her out and put in the person he brought with him. Instead, had he shifted the teaching load to Gerri and given Lindsay this plumb assignment? She couldn't imagine him choosing her over one of his pet people. Maybe Trey had talked him into it.
"Yes," Lindsay said. "He's in good condition, too."
"When do you think it will be ready to come up?"
"Tomorrow, perhaps. It depends on how much the night crew get done."
He nodded. Lindsay could almost see the wheels turning in his brain, so she was not surprised by the next statement.
"We'll want to make a cast of the skull right away. I understand you're an artist ..."
"Well, I'm competent, but ..."
"I hope you won't be offended," he went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I'm going to get a sculptor to do the face. You don't need to be spending time on that anyway. I would like the bone analysis to be finished as quickly as possible, especially on this first one."
This first one, thought Lindsay. Lewis was certainly optimistic.
"Frank tells me you're good at visualizing personal stories from a collection of artifacts. That's what I want here. Make it personal. We've got the journal, and I understand it's turning out to be quite interesting. I'd like you to match up the skeleton with the descriptions of crew members in the journal." He shook her again and grinned. "Glad to have you aboard." He turned and went to where charts and maps were hanging on the walls. It looked as if he would be conducting the debriefing.
"Energetic, isn't he?" Bobbie said.
"And optimistic."
"He lik
es you." Lindsay and Bobbie turned and faced Carolyn. "I bet that puts Gerri's nose out of joint." She looked as if that pleased her.
Lindsay and Bobbie sat down on a sofa next to one wall. Bobbie pulled up a dilapidated coffee table to prop their feet on. Slowly, members of the crew began filing into the room and taking seats wherever they could find them. Trey came in with Nate, who raised his fists in the air like a fighter, showing off his bandage. Everyone clapped and whooped.
"Eight stitches," he shouted.
Trey banged on the table with the edge of his clipboard. "OK, everybody. Let's get on with this. Some of us want to squeeze in a life while we're here. We've got Francisco Lewis with us. He'll be staying for a while and has a few things to say."
Lewis stepped forward. His slacks and shirt looked expensive, contrasting with the combination of torn blue jeans, shorts, and swimsuits the crew were wearing.
"I just wanted to say that I think you guys are doing a great job, and a fast job. I know archaeology is not meant to be a fast undertaking, but this is an unusual dig." He paused. "We've had an unfortunate incident with pothunters. I've spoken with Trey and John West, and we're taking steps to make sure nothing like what happened to Nate happens again. All of you know the problem sites have with pothunters when all that's at stake are ceramic pots and projectile points. You can imagine how the stakes are raised when people hear the words Spanish galleon. Please don't let today's incident disturb your work.
"As Trey said, I'm going to be here for a while." He grinned. "We're having a television crew-" There were groans from the crew, and Lewis raised his hands. "I know. They can be a pain, but publicity gets us money, and this is an expensive undertaking. So grin and bear it."
"Now, I understand Lindsay Chamberlain found the first human skeleton and wins the pool, which has a grand total of twenty-five dollars in it. I'm glad inflation hasn't hit the ranks of archaeology and we are still cheap." He got a laugh, not because he was funny, Lindsay thought, but because he was Lewis. "Come up, Lindsay. Trey has some cash for you."
Lindsay made a face, swung her feet off the table, reluctantly stood and walked to the front. Trey gave her the cash, and she waved it over her head to the applause of the crew and went back to her seat. Trey took over the meeting, and the focus went to the day's accomplishments and problems, illustrated on a map of the site and twenty miles of surrounding ocean. A quarter-mile east of the dam the scuba teams had found a few barrel hoops and another cannon similar to the first two. "We're not sure the cannons came from our ship," he said, "but we suspect they may have. The Spanish archives said only one ship of the 1558 fleet sank off the coast, and so far we haven't found any evidence to dispute that. We'll know more when the cannons are cleaned up."
Out of the corner of her eye, Lindsay noticed Lieutenant Damon of the Coast Guard at the doorway, holding a large plastic bag at his side. She wondered how long he had been standing there.
"Lieutenant, you have some information for us?" asked Trey.
Damon walked to the front of the room and removed what looked like a shattered piece of large plastic tubing from the bag.
"Our divers found this wedged in one of the wrecks that make up the artificial reef. It was in the vicinity of today's incident, and I wondered if it's yours."
"Oh, shit," whispered Bobbie.
"What is it?" Lindsay asked her.
Before Bobbie could answer, Trey cursed and threw his clipboard down on the table. Both he and Lewis looked furious. Nate jumped up. "Damn them," he sputtered.
"No," Trey told Lieutenant Damon. "It isn't ours. It's a piece of an airlift that's used to suck up sediment and small artifacts in an underwater excavation. The kind of airlift we use for survey work is small. At the depths we're working here, we never use one over three inches in diameter, and no archaeologist uses one over six inches. That one looks like it was nearly twelve. It would destroy the artifacts. The only people who use an airlift that size are treasure hunters looking for gold."
"What do you think they were looking for around the reef?" Damon asked.
Trey shrugged. "I don't know. We haven't found anything there."
"Thank you for your time," he said and left the room.
"Dammit, Trey," said Nate.
"Take it easy, Nate," Lewis cautioned. "That's why we're putting on extra guards. This won't happen again."
Trey wrapped up the debriefing quickly after Damon left, and everyone went on their way. Bobbie found Sarah and the others. Lindsay looked around for John West. Apparently he wasn't back yet. She took another quick tour of the lab and walked outside. While the meeting was going on, someone had repaired the railing. Lindsay looked for the alligator but didn't see him. A dragonfly lit on the shiny black water, causing a ripple in the smooth surface, and quickly disappeared beneath it. Lindsay bent down to examine the repair work. She shook the lower rail. It seemed solid. She spied something wedged between the planks of the walkway. It looked like a coin. She found a nail file in her purse and pried out a quarter with a hole punched neatly through the middle.
"What you got there, Rabbit?"
Lindsay rose from her haunches and held the quarter out to John. "Well, from what I hear, you are really raking in the money today. Maybe I'll get you to buy me dinner."
They walked to the dock where several large boats were moored. All were equipped with various kinds of winches, tanks, and mechanical devices. John led her to a large shiny white motor boat with the name Sea Dragon painted on the bow.
"Nice boat."
"Yeah. We've got a lot of nice stuff on this job."
John helped Lindsay in, started the engine at an idle, and untied the line. Lindsay stood beside him as he maneuvered the boat away from the dock. Something gently nudged the bottom of the boat, knocking Lindsay against him.
"What was that?" she asked.
John shrugged and put an arm around her shoulders. "Big fish, I suppose."
He piloted the boat out to the ocean, then picked up speed. The wind whipped her hair back and forth, and she had to shout to make herself heard over the roar of the engine and the sound of the waves against the boat.
"How's Boote?"
John didn't take his gaze away from the ocean, but turned his head slightly toward Lindsay. "He's okay. I left him at his house. A neighbor was home and I asked her to look in on him."
The boat seemed to leap and Lindsay grabbed hold of a rail.
"How far?"
"To the restaurant? About seventeen miles. It's just over the line in Florida."
She sat down and watched the shore go by. There was still a lot of daylight left and she could see the beach and the flora of Cumberland Island, the island next to St. Magdalena. Lindsay squinted her eyes to see if she could catch sight of one of the wild horses on Cumberland, but the only fauna she saw were birds. She turned her gaze to John's classic Indian profile, remembering their previous encounter at the dig and wondering about his asking her to dinner. He couldn't consider her too much of an enemy if he was willing to take her out.
It took only about thirty minutes to reach Fernandina Beach. John slowed the boat as he entered the intracoastal waterway and motored to a dock. As they shed their life jackets and climbed out, John stared into Lindsay's eyes for just a moment.
"It's just a few yards up here," he said finally, and walked armin-arm with her to the restaurant.
It was a popular place. The patrons looked like mostly tourists. Lindsay and John got a window seat where they could see the water several yards distant.
"So tell me about your business," she said, after John ordered a surf and turf and she a fisherman's platter. "I didn't realize it was so big."
"This is my biggest project. I've built cofferdams before, but for smaller projects-all bridge repair. Before I started West Construction, I was one of the engineers for the Third Harbor Tunnel in Boston. We built the largest cofferdam in North America. I've done some oil rig work and some underwater construction in the navy. So, do you th
ink that qualifies me to do this job?"
"I wasn't questioning your qualifications."
"But they surprised you."
"You aren't going to pick a fight with me, are you? I kind of figured as long as I'm not digging up your ancestors, we can be friends and not enemies."
John grinned and took her hand as she was about to reach for her iced tea.
"I'm not going to pick a fight with you."
The waitress came carrying their dinners, and John let go of her hand.
"That's a lot of food," Lindsay said.
"You work hard, you need to eat more than those little sandwiches they give you. You still seeing that guy-the one with the name like a piece of machinery?"
Lindsay laughed. "You mean Derrick? We see each other occasionally. No commitments."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we enjoy each other's company. Occasionally. Tell me more about your business. You must have been excited to have won the bid."
"That's an understatement. I stand to make a pot of money and gain a lot of reputation with this project. It means a lot to me and my family."
"I remember your sister and father well. Who else is in your family?" Lindsay tasted her stuffed crab. "This is good."
"That's why I brought you here. I have a son, Jason, twelve, a daughter, Shelly, in high school, and an ex-wife in Oklahoma."
"Your children live with you?"
John nodded. "They're with my father and sister while I'm here."
"Well, if it isn't the redskin."
Lindsay jerked her head toward the gravelly voice. It came from a stout man who looked to be in his early forties.
"Hardy Denton, don't you have some place to be?" John replied. His voice was calm, but Lindsay could see his hand was tight around his glass of iced tea.
Chapter 8
"LOOK, Torrro, I know I was the low bid. You know that, too, don't you?" Hardy Denton's words were slurred and he smelled like beer. "You got it because you're a damn Indian."
Lindsay looked beyond Denton and spotted Eva Jones sitting at a table with another couple, calmly looking in their direction, as if waiting for a movie to start. John saw her, too.
LC 04 - Skeleton Crew Page 5
