Prophet of Bones A Novel

by Ted Kosmatka

  Paul stared for a moment at the enormous skeleton.

  He’d always found articulated skeletons to be somewhat unsettling. Standing there, upright, an unnatural creature. It didn’t bother him when the bones were lying flat, resting on felt, assembled in rough approximation to a natural formation. But the single extra step of having them standing upright was one step too far. It implied something that wasn’t there. Bones connected by ghost tendons and ghost ligaments, held in place by ghost flesh. An artificial construction. In this case, it was a dinosaur, Tyrannosaurus rex, or something like it. A species drowned long ago and buried for thousands of years, now brought to light.

  He approached the information desk. “I’d like to speak with someone from bones.”

  The woman behind the counter looked at him as if he’d spoken Chinese.

  He changed tacks: “I’d like to speak with Lillivati Gajjar.”

  “She’s an employee here?”

  “Yes.”

  “What department?”

  “Paleographic analysis.”

  Again, the look. Like he’d spoken Chinese.

  “She works with bones,” he said.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She got on the phone and dialed a number. There was a pause, and then the woman spoke into the receiver: “A man is here to speak with a Lillivati Gajjar.”

  Then came another pause. “Okay, connect me.” After a few moments, she said, “Hello, this is the information desk. There’s a man here to see Ms. Gajjar. Uh-huh.”

  The woman turned to him. “What is this about?”

  “I’m an old friend.”

  The woman repeated Paul’s words into the phone. Another pause. “What did you say your name was?” the woman asked.

  “Paul Carlsson.”

  Again she repeated his words. There was a longer pause this time.

  Long enough for him to wonder what the other side of the conversation sounded like.

  “I’m here from Westing,” Paul said. “It’s a laboratory. I’m here to talk about bone samples.”

  “He said he’s here from a lab,” the woman said. Another pause. Then: “Yes. Yes. Okay.” She hung up.

  “She’s coming down. You can wait for her there.” She gestured to the seats along the wall.

  “Thank you.”

  Paul walked over to the benches and took a seat. Time seemed to slow. He laid the manila envelope across his legs and watched the reflection of people in the polished floor as they walked by. He listened to the clack of shoes, the slow rhythms of the visitors’ conversations. The light was beautiful, he decided, coming in through the massive skylights in the ceiling.

  Five minutes later, he caught sight of Lillivati crossing the wide anteroom. She was as beautiful as ever. Tall and slender. Her hair was short, cut in a pixie style around her oval face. She was wearing a white lab coat with the museum’s name stenciled across the breast.

  “You’ve gained weight” were her first words to him. She reached out to shake his hand. Her hand was delicate and cool to the touch. Then, tilting her head to the side, she smiled. “It suits you. You were always too thin before. Follow me.”

  She led him outside.

  They found a quiet place at the edge of the building, under an alcove, and watched the rain begin.

  “I only have a few minutes,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “I’m in the middle of a hell day.”

  “Thanks for talking with me.”

  “It’s been years, Paul. I always wondered if I’d see you again.”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

  She brushed his comment aside with the wave of a slender hand. “For a long time, I hoped to hear from you.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I stopped hoping. Life goes on.”

  “It certainly does.”

  “So you’re here, Chicago,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah, I drove in from Baltimore today.”

  “Drove? Jesus, what, you don’t believe in airplanes?”

  “I believe in them. But I wanted this trip to be a little more under the radar.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m just being cautious.”

  “Ah, married.”

  “Uh, no, that’s not what I—the situation at work requires some delicacy.”

  “This isn’t a social call then, is it?” she asked.

  “No, not exactly.” He glanced up at the big stone columns. “How did you end up here?”

  She took a puff of her cigarette. “They were hiring.”

  “But still,” he said. “This doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you were interested in.”

  “It’s work. I’m interested in working.”

  “What happened to digs and primatology?”

  “Life happened. Positions aren’t easy to come by. But this has me working in the field, at least. Before this, I was stuck teaching.” She faux-shuddered. “Me in front of an endless stream of students, semester in, semester out, giving lectures, assigning course work. Can you imagine?”

  “I can imagine it.”

  “It was hell.”

  “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “It was an exercise in futility. I taught them, and then every semester they came back dumb again.”

  “Different students.”

  “Not to me. To me, they were the same, every year.”

  “Jesus, you really weren’t cut out to teach.”

  “Told you. Now I’m working with primate bones. It’s interesting. It’s something.” She took another drag of her cigarette.

  “How much do you know about Westing?”

  “I’ve heard of it. So you work there?”

  “I do. At the moment.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s complicated,” he said.

  “You always were.”

  “Does your museum archive bones from Westing?”

  “We get a lot of bones from a lot of different places.”

  “Including us?”

  “I really wouldn’t know.”

  “The bones that come in, do you ever see them?”

  “It’s not my specialty.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m not involved with those projects. I deal with the primates. I handle the cleaning, the cataloging, the identification. I’m one of the most junior researchers here, and anything even vaguely worth publishing gets handled by others. I’m a glorified lab tech. Actually, come to think of it, I’m not even glorified. Just a lab tech. I do a lot of the basic cleaning and testing.”

  Paul nodded. “But you could get access to the other bones if you wanted?”

  She looked at him closely. “Why do you want to know?”

  “It’s probably best that I don’t tell you quite yet.”

  She crushed her cigarette out on the concrete paving and dropped it into the receptacle. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “You drive here unannounced after not speaking to me since college. ‘Trust me’ really isn’t good enough.”

  Paul sighed. He leaned back against the cold stone. “I worked at a dig site a few months ago. We found some bones. There were some irregularities, and I’m checking up on something.”

  “You worked at a dig site for Westing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And now you’re checking up on something, only they don’t know you’re checking up.”

  “Something like that.”

  “So you drive all this way, and this is your pitch?”

  “I realize that it must seem a little odd.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I tell you to fuck off?”

  Paul lowered his head. This wasn’t going as he’d hoped.

  “Do you have access to the bones?” he asked one last time.

  “No, the bone room is under lock and key.”

  “Yo
u always had a way with keys.”

  For the first time, the briefest flash of a smile—despite herself. It faded quickly.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “But I guess a lot has changed since then.”

  “Not so much,” she said. “The doors have gotten harder, though.”

  He made an impulsive decision. Until that moment, he hadn’t been sure if he’d do it. “There’s one more thing I can show you.” He held up the manila envelope.

  “Okay.”

  He slid the pictures out of the envelope. He handed them to her one by one, until she held all seven.

  “What are they?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me. They’re dig pictures, but I’d like to know what you think of the bones.”

  “It’s hard to tell from just photos.”

  “Have you ever seen anything like this come through here?”

  “No, nothing like this. Not that I’ve seen. Even in books.”

  “What can you tell me about the bones, using your expertise?”

  “Nothing, really. I don’t see a scale. I don’t have stratigraphic data. I don’t have anything. These could be fake for all I know.”

  “Assuming they’re not fake.”

  “Well, they’re bizarre then. They don’t look human,” she said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m not sure. If I had the actual bones, I’d know more.”

  “You said you do testing here. DNA?”

  “No, of course not. Just simple stuff. Isotope analysis of bone matrix collagen.”

  “To determine migration patterns?”

  “And other things. Diet and trophic level. If there’s a reason to test it.”

  Paul nodded. “How much do you know about what goes on with the bones after they’re delivered here?”

  She stared at him, searching his face. “Where were those bones dug up?”

  “You don’t want to know more,” he said.

  “You know what? You’re right. Maybe I don’t want to know any of this.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “Break’s over,” she said. “I have to get back.”

  After a moment of awkward silence, he stuck out his hand. She shook it. “Thank you,” he said.

  She turned and walked toward the building’s entrance, but she stopped after a few steps. “There is something odd, though,” she said, turning back toward him.

  “What?”

  “Bones come in, and they stay. For the most part. But now and then, we’ll get a shipment, and they’re cleaned and then repacked and shipped out to somewhere else.”

  “Shipped out to where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It would be a huge help.”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Is there a way to find out?”

  “Not my area. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Lilli—”

  “I wish I could help.” Her tone said the conversation was over.

  “Of course.” Paul tore off one corner flag of the manila envelope and wrote his cell phone number on it. He gave it to her. “If you see anything that might change that, give me a call. Any information would be greatly appreciated.”

  He shook her hand again. “Thank you for your time.”

  He turned his collar up against the damp and stepped out into the rain.

  * * *

  Paul got a hotel for the evening and stayed the night. He left the next morning, preparing for the long drive back.

  Halfway between Indianapolis and Dayton his phone rang. Unknown caller.

  He hit the button and it was her voice: “I was able to track down a location for you. Quick, got a pen?”

  Paul pulled over on the side of the highway.

  “Ready.”

  “It’s 12467 Hallis, Toomey Hills, Florida. A company called Axiom. That’s where the bones are shipped sometimes.”

  “Thanks, Lilli.”

  “Tell me I won’t regret this.”

  “You won’t,” he said. He spent the rest of the drive home hoping that was true.

  23

  The congressman stood in the central courtyard, sweating in the shade. His personal security detail flanked him to the right and left—four men with active eyes and identical dark jackets. By the congressman’s impatient expression, Gavin judged that they’d been standing there for some time.

  “Peter,” Martial exclaimed loudly, as he and Gavin stepped finally into the courtyard’s muggy air. “Welcome to Axiom.”

  The congressman didn’t smile. His eyes narrowed. Behind him, his security detail pivoted slightly in response to the approaching party. Gavin had the sense that some training was in play—just where to stand, just where to look, eyes scanning for potential threats while simultaneously locating possible exits. He wondered, idly, if the men had been trained to jump in front of a bullet, if necessary. Who among them would react first, if it came down to it? Who would rush most quickly to die for this man?

  Martial and Gavin crossed the overgrown expanse of the central courtyard, their own security detail following at subtle remove. Gavin was careful to walk an important half step behind the old man as they approached. Even from a distance, Gavin could see the beads of sweat on the congressman’s brow. He was a tall man, dark hair graying slightly at the temples. Large and ruggedly handsome, he seemed the perfect physical embodiment of a certain breed of modern politician. As if the physical appearance of elected officials were constrained by some selective process. If he’d been an actor, they would have cast him as president or CEO. Regardless of what his other qualifications might be, he looked the part, which was perhaps the most important qualification of all, when you came down to it. Now he stood in the ninety-degree shade, waiting for his tardy host to provide some excuse for keeping him waiting.

  Martial offered none. Instead, he smiled and stuck out his hand. “I trust your flight went well?”

  The congressman shook Martial’s hand but ignored the question. “You never responded to my invitation.” His voice was flat and hard.

  “The summons, you mean? Washington. Yes, well, we’re in the middle of something important. I’m afraid we’ve been very busy of late.”

  “Do you think I’m not?”

  Martial gestured to Gavin. “Allow me to introduce my associate Gavin McMaster. He’s one of our researchers here, until recently an outside asset but now brought more fully into the fold. Gavin, Congressman Peter Salinder, our friend in Washington.”

  Gavin extended his hand, but the congressman didn’t even look at him.

  “I don’t like my invitations being ignored,” the congressman said. His face was stone, but his eyes smoldered with barely controlled anger. More than just a rugged face after all, Gavin decided.

  Gavin lowered his hand.

  Martial didn’t react immediately. He let the silence grow between them, meeting the congressman’s stare with his own. Behind each of the two men, their guards eyed one another with wariness across the gap of undeclared hostility. It was the Korean Peninsula, the demilitarized zone.

  “Anything you wanted so urgently, Mr. Congressman, we could have discussed over the phone.”

  The congressman glared at him. “You’re joking, of course.”

  Martial smiled. “Or, if the phone is unacceptable, and you really needed to see me, well, here I am.” He opened his arms. “I’m always amenable to meeting here, at our facility.”

  “Thus making me complicit.”

  “Congressman, now who’s joking?” Martial asked. “You’ve been complicit all along. Come, let’s get out of this heat.”

  Martial turned and led them back through the courtyard and into the building. Their respective security retinues followed a dozen steps behind.

  “To what do I owe the honor of your distinguished company?” Martial asked. The air-conditioning stood like an invisible membrane as they crossed the threshold into the buildin
g. Martial veered them immediately left, toward the eastern wing of the complex. This was the part of the facility Gavin was least familiar with. The research staff mostly used the west side of the complex.

  “There’s been chatter,” the congressman said.

  “What kind of chatter?”

  “The ugly kind. The kind that can get out of hand.”

  “There will always be whispers in the halls.”

  “But this talk has a body behind it. Where there is a body, the talk isn’t so easily dismissed.”

  “A body?” They continued down the corridor, dress shoes making clicking noises on the tile.

  “Skeletal remains, actually. Found in a shallow grave in a rural area a few hundred miles from here. Decomposed for more than a decade.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with us.”

  “Dental records match the body to an old missing person’s report, and suddenly this body has a name. That name has a paper trail that leads him back here.”

  “Here?”

  “An employee of Axiom, according to tax records dating to the time of his disappearance. Do I need to tell you his name?”

  “Manuel.”

  “Yes.”

  “An unfortunate accident,” Martial said. The old man led them toward a corridor that Gavin had never explored before, a hall down which Gavin had occasionally seen the old man disappear for hours at a time.

  “A bullet in the face is an accident?” the congressman said.

  “It can be.”

  “Who was he?”

  “One of our workers here. A deranged lad. A tragedy, really, and a mess not cleaned up as well as I’d hoped, apparently.”

  “There are people asking questions.”

  “Then make them stop asking questions. That’s what you do, right?”

  “We give you latitude to do your work, but our indulgence isn’t endless.”

  They came to a wide set of double doors at the end of the hall. Martial pushed through the doors, and Gavin paused in the entryway. He stuck his head through the open doorway and looked at what lay beyond.

  Gavin blinked. It was a place of worship. A church. Here, in the middle of the research center. Like a chapel in a hospital.