James Steimle - The Kukulkan Manuscript

“I believe Dr. Ulman has been working on something he found in Highland Guatemala,” she said, a little hostility in the back of her throat. “He wrote me sometime last semester, but I had assumed he was too busy to write me a second letter. We are not working on his new project together.”

“Did Dr. Ulman invite you to join him in Central America?” said Kinnard.

“No.”

“Did Dr. Ulman send you anything other than a letter. Say, some artifacts, anything he may have found in Guatemala?” Masterson said.

“That would be illegal,” said Alred.

“But did he send you anything other than a letter?” Goldstien said.

“No,” she said, but she could tell by the look in Masterson’s darting eyes that he didn’t believe her. “Why do I get the impression that I’m being interrogated?”

“We don’t mean to give you that feeling,” Wilkinson said over a cough as Kinnard put his face in his hands and sagged.

“You’re accusing me of a crime, aren’t you,” Alred said, her muscles hardening.

“Not at all,” Kinnard moaned from behind his hands.

“Why are you so suspicious?” said Goldstien with a big grin, repulsive to look at.

“I’m not being suspicious,” she said, her eyes rigid in her head as she turned it from side to side. She did her best to keep her voice calm, but there was too much energy in her lungs. “I came here to discuss a dissertation proposal with Professor Masterson, only to find you four in the room circling me like vultures. Now, what do you want.”

Masterson leaned back in his chair, at ease in the room. “Ms. Alred…I didn’t mean for these questions to get you all rallied up.”

“I’m fine,” she said, but instantly sensed her forward-leaning position, the tension in her face, her tightened eyes, and realized that everyone would recognize all of these signs for what they were. She relaxed and allowed the steam to rush out of her overheated muscles.

“We just wanted to know how suited you would be for the project we’re about to suggest,” said Masterson. “It is unorthodox enough to be exciting and give you the opportunity to make quite a name for yourself. It is also something we thought you might find particularly interesting since it is based on Dr. Ulman’s recent discovery. Unfortunately, little is known about the find so far, except for what letters he has sent to the states. We were hoping…that you already had your hands in the work; that Ulman had informed you of his theories. It would have provided you with a greater advantage than starting with nothing.”

“I see,” she said.

“Ulman sent me…some artifacts,” said Kinnard.

“We know it’s not exactly legal,” Masterson said, putting up a hand, “but it could also be something important enough for all of us here to drop what we’re doing…and investigate.”

Everyone stopped to examine Alred’s expression. But where they seemed to have expected to find awe and curiosity, she kept her face stone-like and unaffected. “You’re saying Ulman found something so revolutionary that everyone here is considering a sudden sabbatical to study it?”

Masterson nodded, his grin intensified by the signs of her growing interest.

Wilkinson said, “Of course we’re all engaged this semester and can’t just run off.”

“At a major university like this? Sure you can. You all have assistants, don’t you?” Alred said. “They could take your classes easily enough, couldn’t they? There’s more to it…isn’t there. You don’t want to drop everything and risk a bad reputation on sketchy finds. You want me to take the risk, to get my hands dirty first. Then, if there really is something out there, you’ll gladly jump in. But only after I’ve had my shot.”

Goldstien smiled. “Very good!”

Masterson nodded, “That’s right.”

“But you also want me to clean up this mess and present my finds first…in the case there isn’t really anything there.”

No one nodded, and that meant yes.

Kinnard rested his thick chin on his clasped hands. His eyes told her he wasn’t as interested. In fact, he looked exhausted and trapped in the room.

“And what about you?” Alred said, pointing at Arnott with her chin. “Why don’t you have anything to say?”

He smiled. “It’s all been said.”

Everyone waited, but she wasn’t sure for what. Finally she asked, “So what’s the catch.”

“There isn’t one,” Masterson said with his false grin.

“Actually-” Kinnard started.

“Ah!” Alred nodded, sure that she knew everything a step ahead of the play.

“There is something, but it’s not exactly a catch, per se. ” Kinnard looked up at her. He touched the black rims of his glasses, but didn’t remove them. He looked at Alred’s tight little mouth, her straight brow, and her slender nose. She got the feeling that he was looking inside her, asking questions she couldn’t hear. “There is already another student working on the project.”

“A joint dissertation?” said Alred, looking again at Masterson, with disdain on the back of her tongue. How was that going to help her shoot up the ladder as Masterson had repeatedly promised?

“A counter dissertation!” said Masterson.

“I’ve never heard of a counter dissertation.”

“Well maybe you have,” Masterson said. “Many times when a dissertation is argued, the student is countering a previous study, sometimes someone else’s dissertation.”

“So what are you saying,” she asked.

Wilkinson smiled, and she could see a lot of thought behind those old lips. The words about to come out had been well-discussed. She held her breath as he spoke. “Ms. Alred. What do you know about the Mormons?”

She breathed. That wasn’t a question she’d expected, and she let it show on her face. Her brow bent, and her eyes squinted.

Wilkinson waited.

She looked from Masterson around the table to Kinnard on the end. “Mormons,” she said, her eyes accessing the dictionary in her mind, “I believe they are a Christian sect founded in Utah, aren’t they?”

“Whether or not they are Christian is debatable,” Wilkinson said, rubbing the side of his nose. “They say they are. They also believe they have a special tie to ancient South and Central America.”

“ The Book of Mormon,” she said.

“Right,” Masterson said, looking through eyelids that had long ago grown into thick layers of skin which now almost cut off his vision entirely. “Have you ever read their holy scripture?”

“No,” she said and saw the sigh. “Never.”

Masterson took over. “The Mormons believe a group of Jews built an ark, sailed across the Pacific, and settled somewhere in the mid to lower Americas. Of course, they don’t have anything to back up this claim.”

“That’s right,” Alred said, looking at the ceiling. “Don’t they believe the Amerindians to be the descendants of these Jews?”

Masterson nodded.

“So how does this fit into my dissertation?”

Kinnard answered. “The student I brought into the project is a member of the Mormon church.”

“I…see. And I’m supposed to debunk the pronouncements you expect him to make.” Alred pushed her hair over her right ear and kept her face at ease. “Why did he get the project before me?”

“I’m not technically a professor of Archaeology or anything that has to do with Mesoamerican studies,” said Kinnard. “I teach ancient Near Eastern history. Porter is my student.”

“Do you know John Porter?” Goldstien said with a suspicious smile, as if suspecting that the two had dated secretly or she was a Mormon and was hiding the fact for some reason.

“Should I?” she said, shaking her head. “He’s an archaeology student?” she asked, confused. Why would this John Porter be studying under Dr. Kinnard if Kinnard has nothing to do with American archaeology?