Mackenzie Ford - The Clouds Beneath the Sun

“A what?”

“A deposition, a statement about what you—”

“I’ve already done that!” Natalie hated what she was hearing now, too. The effect of the music had quite worn off.

“I know, I know, but you have to do it again, in front of the prosecution and the defense counsel, in the presence of the court stenographer. They may want to ask you questions, decide how exactly the trial will proceed.”

She just looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning forward again. “It’s me who’s telling you all this, instead of my mother, because I’m flying up to Nairobi myself, the day after tomorrow. I have things to do, political things, and supplies to buy. You can come with me if you wish. It will save you a very long drive in a Land Rover—hours.”

Natalie stared again into the fire. She didn’t know what to say. Her experience of Nairobi was confined to changing planes at the airport there.

“Look,” said Jack quietly. “Don’t be so … don’t think of Nairobi as a problem. It’s very different from the gorge but it’s just as much a part of Kenya as this place is. You’ll see things in Nairobi that you’ll hate, you’ll meet the barrister who will cross-examine you at the trial, you might see some political demonstrations. Better to find out now how you respond to all that than at the trial, and have everything thrown at you all at once.”

She still didn’t respond.

“All right, then … what else? Oh yes. I’ll show you around, be your guide. We’ll stay at a good hotel, you can have a proper bath for once, we’ll have dinner in a real restaurant, you can get out of your jungle gear and into a frock. You can wash your hair properly. Maybe we can buy some more records. You will get to see me in a blazer—think how exciting that could be.”

He kicked the fire again. The flames flared up.

“Come on,” he said, in barely above a whisper. “What do you say? Get it over with.”

She was still staring at the few remaining flames of the dying fire.

“You’ll be able to phone your father.”

She transferred her gaze from the fire to Jack. He obviously didn’t know what he’d said.

It was her father’s birthday in a few days. Under normal circumstances, a phone call would be a real treat. But now … what reception would she get?

At least, if she went to Nairobi, she’d have the option of calling him or not.

“We need to finalize this now.” Eleanor sat very upright in the refectory tent. “Jack and Natalie are flying to Nairobi tomorrow and they can post these papers from there. It will save days.”

Dinner was a good two hours away but everyone was ranged around the dining table. Eleanor had called a publication meeting.

“First, have you all read the paper Russell sent in via Natalie? Highly improper etiquette, but there we are. Any comments?” She looked around.

Jonas leaned forward. “He found some modern bones through a doctor friend in New York, I see. Are we happy to trust him on that?”

“Oh, I think so,” said Eleanor. “He may be a difficult man, but he’s a good scientist.”

“I thought there were going to be two papers,” said Arnold Pryce. “One on the discovery, another on what it all means.”

Eleanor nodded. “Yes, that was the original idea. But given what’s happened, and that Russell still thinks he’ll be ‘scooped,’ I’m inclined to let him announce the discovery and write up the implications later.”

Silence around the table.

“So we tell Russell to go ahead?” Eleanor looked from one to the other.

No one said anything.

“Then we are agreed.” She took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes. “Now, Natalie’s shelter. Has everyone read her paper? Any comments?”

“I think the tone is a little too bullish,” said Kees. “Take the title, for instance. ‘An Ancient Shelter in the Kihara Gorge’ is too—well, it assumes too much, it begs all sorts of questions. And it will antagonize potential critics.”

“What would you prefer instead?” said Eleanor.

“Something with a question mark in the title, or something bland, like … oh, I don’t know, ‘A Provocative Arrangement of Stones in the Kihara Gorge.’ Or, instead of ‘provocative,’ maybe ‘intriguing.’ Something like that.”

“Natalie?” Eleanor looked across the table and smiled.

Natalie shrugged. “I don’t mind. If Kees is happier with his title, I’ll go along with it.”

Christopher nodded. “I agree with Kees.”

“Well, I don’t!” interjected Jack.

Christopher reddened and looked briefly at Natalie.

“I’d fall asleep before I read to the end of Kees’s title.” Jack hunched forward. “Look, by all means have a question mark to get yourselves off the hook, but Natalie has pushed our investigation into a totally new area and titles are there to catch people’s attention, to show them we are breaking new ground.” He doodled with a pen on the paper in front of him. “How about… something like … ‘The Origins of Architecture?’—with a question mark, of course.”

“No! No!” chorused several people at the same time.

“Too sensationalist,” cried Kees.

“Too glib,” said Christopher.

Now it was Jack’s turn to fix his brother with a glare. “There you are—it got you all going. That’s my point, that’s what a title should do.”

“In journalism, maybe,” said Eleanor, shaking her head. “I’m with Christopher and Kees on this one, Jack.” She turned to the others. “But surely we can think of something that will keep Jack awake and not be sensationalist.”

Silence around the table. Several of them were scribbling draft titles on sheets of paper, then crossing them out.

“Try this,” said Arnold Pryce at length. “‘Ancient Man’s First Building?’, with a question mark.”

“Strictly speaking, you don’t need the word ‘ancient,’ and whatever it is, it’s not a building,” said Natalie.

“‘Man’s first structure?’ then. How about that?” Pryce looked around the table.

Eleanor glanced at Jack. “Would that keep you awake?”

“If it’s a structure, it’s a building. It’s better than ‘A Provocative Arrangement of …’ whatever.”

“Christopher?” Eleanor leaned towards him.

“I still think we risk being accused of reading too much into the evidence.”

“Kees?”

“Well, it’s either a structure or it isn’t. I think Arnold’s title is justified so long as it has a question mark.”

“And so do I,” said Eleanor. “Let’s agree on that.” She looked around the table again, from person to person. No one spoke.

Christopher looked angry, Natalie thought.

“Kees, how are you getting on with your obsidian analysis?”

“I need more time. I’ve narrowed the source down to Rongai or Kebrigo, but the pieces of glass I broke off to use are too small for the tests to distinguish. I did that so as not to destroy the original discoveries. But I definitely need large pieces, so I’ll have to cut them again. It will take me a few days more.”

“Don’t worry. Better to get it right than to hurry and make mistakes.”

“Either way, though,” said Kees, “either way, these sites are a good hundred miles from the gorge. Early man was trading far and wide.”

Eleanor nodded. “So we keep a lookout for what early man might have been trading with.”

She looked about her. “I think that’s all. Well, except … except you should know that I have asked again for a meeting with the Maasai elders, to dicuss the whole Ndekei business, but they still say the times are not propitious. Jack, can’t you help out here?” She fixed him with a look.