Mackenzie Ford - The Clouds Beneath the Sun

Jack, obviously pleased that his mother had come round to his view, nodded and sat back. “You said two decisions.”

It was Eleanor’s turn to nod. “Yes, I’ve added in a little thought of my own.” She stood up. “When we announce our discoveries, we shall say we think we have found an early form of mankind, a new species which not only stood upright but built man’s first structure. And we shall name him Homo kiharensis , we shall name him after the gorge. Let’s see the Maasai—Marongo and his elders—deal with that !”

Eleanor sat bolt upright in the refectory tent and tapped the table with her pen. “Let’s make a start, shall we?”

She looked around her. “Now that the decision has been taken to hold a press conference—and I can’t pretend that I’m any happier about it than some of you are—we need to make sure that we conduct ourselves as efficiently and effectively as possible. I have given some thought to logistics and how we might divide up the responsibilities between us.”

She had a sheet of paper in front of her and consulted it now.

“I will myself handle the invitations. I don’t think I’m being immodest if I say that my name, the Deacon name, is best known in relation to ancient man in Kenya, so we must use that. I can liaise with the High Commission in Nairobi, find out which newspapers are coming, add in some East African papers, the wire services, like Reuters, and some American papers that have correspondents here or elsewhere in East Africa, and I can also find out when the British delegation has its freest day.”

She looked up. “Christopher, I’d like you to find a place where we can hold the conference. Not a hotel, of course, all the main ones are whites only. I suppose a lecture room in a college somewhere would be a suitable alternative. And I’d like you to be in charge of the exhibits themselves—the jaw, the teeth, the skull, and the vertebrae. Good boxes, polished wood, colored cotton wool or satin, something that shows them off clearly and makes them seem special. Yes?”

Christopher nodded.

“You will do the pictures as well, of course, Christopher—very important. The knee joint, the jaw and teeth, the boulders. These must be as clear as possible—if we are successful they will be used in newspapers right across the world, so I want lots and lots of copies. Okay?”

Christopher nodded and smiled.

“And I want a few slides. That means we can darken the room where the conference is held, to make more of a dramatic impact. Can you do that?”

“Yes, of course. No problem at all.”

“But that’s not enough!”

All eyes turned to Jack.

“I’m sorry, Mother, but this is journalism, not paleontology. We need general shots of the gorge, of the places where these objects were found—and above all of the people who found them … us … Daniel here, Natalie, you, the rest of the team.”

“Surely they will have their own—”

“You know I’m right. Not every paper will send a photographer on a background trip. If we want the coverage we do want, now that we have decided we need it, we must make it as easy for them as we can.”

Eleanor looked at him for what seemed an age. Then, “Very well. See to it, Christopher, please.”

Christopher made some notes on an old piece of paper he had in his pocket.

“Jack, I’d like you—with Natalie, Jonas, and Arnold—to draft the actual document, the press release itself. Obviously, I want to see it, and finalize it, but I’d like you four to do the preparatory work. We’ll keep Kees in reserve, in case something goes wrong.

“We’ll decide which of the team, which of us, actually faces the press nearer the time, we don’t need to take a decision on that right now.”

She looked around the table. “Any questions?”

No one spoke.

“Good. It’s now the eighth of December. The Christmas break isn’t far away, when many of the ancillary staff have a week off anyway, people like Aldwai, and the other guards, so the timing is fortunate. I’ll let you have a date for the conference as soon as it is settled, but I think we want the press release and the photographs ready by—what?—let’s say, December 28. I’ll make sure the conference isn’t before the thirtieth. Is everyone clear on that?”

No one said anything, but they all nodded.

Eleanor scraped back her chair and stood up. The meeting was over.

As everyone dispersed, Jack took Natalie’s arm and led her across to Arnold and Jonas. “Look,” he whispered, “Natalie and I are ahead of the curve here. We anticipated this and have been working on a press release. It’s too hot now but let’s gather at my tent before dinner tonight and we can start going through the drafts we have prepared. What do you say?”

“What time?” said Jonas.

“Six, six-thirty; that will give us an hour and a bit before dinner.”

Arnold grinned. “I’ll bring the sherry.”

“Kees, what on earth are you doing?” Natalie stood over the Dutchman, near the wall of the gorge. It was another baking day.

Kees was kneeling before two piles of stones. He wiped his brow with his sleeve. “So far I’ve been looking at the shape of the hand axes we find here, trying to fit them into some sort of sequence. The ones in this pile on the right,” he said, gesturing, “are from below the two million years ago level. The others, on the left, are from above that level. See, they are—on the whole—smaller, with sharper edges, and narrower points. It looks as though we have a change in technology, associated with your wind shelter, if that is what it is, and with the skeletal remains we have found.” He looked up. “Something else for the press conference, maybe.”

Natalie examined the piles of stones. She could see that what Kees said was right. “But this is wonderful. I can see the change clearly. Have you told Eleanor?”

“I’ve hinted at it, yes.”

“You must tell her immediately. If you are right, it’s major news. Why haven’t you brought these stones back to camp?”

He sat back on his haunches and wiped his face with the towel he kept in the back pocket of his pants.

“Because I wanted to be certain about my second idea.”

Natalie crouched down alongside him. “Go on. I’m all ears.”

He pointed to the stones. “Look at the hand axes. Whether they are the earlier, bigger, blunter shapes or the later, narrower, more pointed ones, they are greeny-gray in color and very hard. Geologically speaking they are chert.” He waved his arm in a horizontal sweep. “Look at the gorge. Here it’s relatively soft, reddish rock, quartzite, with iron oxide in it. So where did ancient man find the stone for his tools?”

Kees replaced his towel in his back pocket. “Homo kiharensis , as we are calling him, obviously found out, by trial and error, that chert is harder than quartzite, but where did he find chert in the first place?” He coughed. “What I’m saying is that somewhere near here—I assume it’s near here—will be a mine, man’s first mine, a place where he dug for chert, dislodged lozenges of hard stone to make chert hand axes. It may be an old streambed.” He looked up and smiled. “That’s my next project, to look for the mine. That should get me my Ph.D.”

“Brilliant, Kees,” breathed Natalie. “But how do you start looking?”

“As I say, chert is harder than sandstone. It produces smoother terrain, covered by fewer trees, more likely just savannah grass, or is washed out by streams when they break cover. I’ll get all these axes back to camp today and start looking for the mine tomorrow.”