Chohany carried herself with authority beyond her twenty-six years. From the start she asked detailed, probing questions about their explorations.
Next, the lone international student, Carlos Rodriguez. Rodriguez’s wavy blond hair, chiseled face, and steel blue eyes gave him a GQ quality. McCauley expected a thick accent, but the University of Madrid student spoke English fluently. “My mother’s from Philadelphia,” he explained. “I used to go to summer camp at Sebago Lake in Maine. That’s where I picked up my first fossils…and ticks.”
“Well, you’ll have no shortage of fossils, and the things that bite here rattle first!”
The last to arrive was Al Jaffe, the twenty-eight year old micropaleontology PhD student from University of California, Berkeley. The lean and fit former US Army corporal on the GI Bill was the tallest of the team at six-two. He kept his thick light brown hair just beyond his former regulation length.
“Professor McCauley?” he said bounding through the gate.
Jaffe had a deep authoritative voice and a methodical manner that instantly seemed ingrained from the military or reflective of his own attention to detail.
“That’s me, but make it Dr. McCauley for starters.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Without the sir.”
“Yes…” Jaffe caught himself, “Dr. McCauley. Pleased to me you.”
McCauley instantly liked him. Jaffe certainly seemed ready to work.
This was the group. They seemed as bright as they get: healthy, inquisitive, and dedicated. Now McCauley hoped they’d stay engaged once the initial excitement wore off and the program moved into its evitable long, hot, boring weeks.
And maybe, just maybe, they’d find something worthwhile and McCauley would get a step closer to tenure.
Eleven
Colin Kavanaugh entered the code to the security system outside Room Ten. Ten was on the fifth floor and bore no relation to the way the other twenty-two offices were numbered. The office required special access. General staff members were told it was where serious market research was conducted. Inquiring minds never learned anything from those who worked in Ten. They never mixed with the rest of the staff. Never.
Kavanaugh had spent a year working in the office. He earned his way in.
Now as the door swung open, Kavanaugh remembered the day he truly distinguished himself to Martin Gruber, the day he figured out the real reason the room was numbered Ten. This was before he was assigned to the space.
“Sir, I’m Colin Kavanaugh,” he began after waiting forty-five minutes to see the publisher.
Without looking up, Gruber said, “I know who you are. I don’t understand why you’re here. You have a supervisor.”
“Yes, Mr. Gruber, but I felt this was worthy to bring directly to you. The significance of Ten.”
Gruber raised his eyes. “Pray tell.”
Kavanaugh smiled. “Precisely. The Bible, sir.”
“Oh?”
“Ten. It has so many meanings in numerology. Considering the secrecy you bestow upon the room, it fits perfectly. Absolutely perfectly.”
Gruber studied the man. He motioned for Kavanaugh to continue.
“Ten. Ten Commandments. But more than that. There are a total of 603 commandments. Add the ten that God gave Moses atop Mount Sinai, there are 613. Six plus one plus three equals ten. There’s more. John 3:16, the thesis of the Bible, adds up to another ten. Noah was the tenth patriarch prior to the Flood. God says he will not destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if ten righteous people step forward. We have ten God-given appendages on our hands; another ten on our feet.”
Gruber’s silence only encouraged him.
“Jesus performed thirty-seven miracles. Three and seven. Ten again. He quotes Deuteronomy forty-six times, more than any other book. Ten! And in the original Greek, Jesus uses the word “fulfill” ten times in each Gospel.”
Colin Kavanaugh caught his breath. “Mr. Gruber, ten is a fulfillment of a duty. You recruited me for a reason. A duty. I believe it’s time you told me what that duty is.”
Gruber smiled. He followed that with something totally unexpected. Martin Gruber stood up and offered his hand to the young man. “Mr. Kavanaugh, have a seat. Indeed, it is time for us to chat.”
The entire episode played out in Kavanaugh’s mind. He surveyed the room and wondered if anyone else had ever displayed such insight. Gruber never told him, though he was eager to find out.
Everyone worked diligently. The people pored through their individual assignments at their own computer workstations. Five read English language newspapers from Great Britain, Canada, Australia and the U.S. They also reviewed The International Herald Tribune. Five others perused the same paper’s websites. Another five wore headphones, monitoring radio broadcasts in various languages. Another five multi-lingual researchers listened to podcasts in Mandarin, German, French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, and Swedish, among other languages. They also reviewed all emails and correspondence from Voyages’ writers around the world.
This was the routine. Seven days a week, around the clock. They’d read, listen, research, and when necessary, write evaluations that would go upstairs — to Martin Gruber. The evaluations were based on strict parameters and gut reactions. Everything was considered important. Success was never reported. That’s not to say that the results of their work didn’t make the news later. When that happened it was never discussed up the hierarchical chain of command, and certainly never down.
Secretum
Kavanaugh looked over the staff. No one took notice. They didn’t fraternize with one another. They were paid well not to. Only two new people had joined the team in the past five years. No one heard from those who retired. They were given mortgage-free off-shore homes with enough money to more than comfortably live out their years and the assurance that they’d have lifetime subscriptions to Voyages. The underwriting was there as long as they continued to fulfill their obligation: their vow of silence about the true nature of their career.
Colin Kavanaugh had argued for, and successfully introduced, critically needed twenty-first century upgrades. The night staff was added at his insistence. Researchers were now assigned to review Twitter, Instagram, and other newer voices in the social media space based on a series of complex algorithms also recommended by Kavanaugh. Another ten trainees were being vetted.
Kavanaugh’s efforts helped provide greater, quicker and more definitive research; research that wasn’t intended for the pages of Voyages. This was special information culled from the field, from the media, and from the Internet; information that ultimately made it to Martin Gruber’s desk. A desk that soon would belong to Colin Kavanaugh.
Twelve
“What do we know about where we are, people?” McCauley asked his full team. They were assembled for an early morning orientation under the food tent, each in a folding chair facing McCauley who stood next to a five by seven foot dry erase board set on an easel.
The professor drew a big question mark on the board.
“Anyone?”
He wrote the name Makoshika on the board.
There were a few whispers. Nothing more. The group hadn’t begun to gel yet.
“Look around. Kind of mysterious and eerie. The Native Americans called it Makoshika. Translation—bad earth or pitiful earth. Why?”