But now, enough was enough. Years with the texts, and still he had no comprehensive translation. How hard can hieroglyphs be? Things had started out well enough: the first leads had been very promising, and had led him to where he was right now. But the time had come for that final push.
Of all the archaeologists, linguists, Egyptologists and anthropo-logists that Patterson had put forward, one was head and shoulders above the rest because of her Amarna experience. He looked at her photo on-screen; possibly not the most recent snapshot, as the file said she was forty-one years old and the attractive dark-haired woman looking back at him could barely have been a day over thirty. The same age as me, he thought wistfully.
She was married, but with no dependents. No known close family. Her academic work involved regular, frequent travel abroad. The husband would be an annoyance, but he’d dealt with worse.
Walker would probably be best suited to the job: reliable, and able to use his head. If things did go wrong, he could make any mess-up look like an accident.
Leaning back in his chair, he sent the résumé through to Walker with a quick note attached: quickly, quietly and in one piece.
He was looking forward to meeting Dr Gail Turner, and to finally getting the answers he was looking for.
Chapter 32
Larue looked at the photos that Martín had handed him. His hands were trembling. In his wildest dreams he had not imagined this.
Whilst far less economical and safe, even Larue had to admit that the manned mission had its virtues. It took Beagle half an hour to extract a good geological sample from the soil. In comparison, one of the astronauts could literally bend over and pick up a rock in seconds.
And from the look of the photos, even the versatile rover wouldn’t have been able to climb down three hundred metres of cliff.
He placed the pictures carefully on his desk and looked at Martín Antunez and Jacqueline Thomas, sitting in front of him. It was the first time he had seen them both together, and he fancied he could feel the electricity between them. What it must be, he thought to himself, to be in love again.
“What shall we do with the pictures, Monsieur?” Martín said. “They were taken over four days ago, and still nothing has been released by the Americans. The other agencies are still jumping up and down about some of the rock samples that came through yesterday, so I doubt they know either. We have a lead Beagle engineer in Bristol, England on the phone to us every hour or so asking about this data and what it means. They’re going crazy over there, and it’s only a matter of time before things start leaking out.”
Larue opened his drawer and pulled out his cigar box. Now was the right time for one, he thought. Removing one of the Diplomáticos from within, he ran it under his nose slowly, before snipping the end off and putting it between his lips. As an afterthought, he offered the box to Martín and Jacqueline.
Martín shook his head. He was amazed that Larue would dare light a cigar inside a place of work, but for some reason he couldn’t help feeling that his real indignation came from the fact that he had not offered first before taking one himself.
Jacqueline simply ignored the gesture entirely.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that it is time for us to release Beagle 4’s newest findings to the press.” With this, he took a box of matches from his drawer and lit his cigar. The thick plume of smoke snaked up to the alarm in the ceiling, which remained silent.
“The press, Monsieur?” Jacqueline couldn’t stop herself from bursting out.
He raised an eyebrow, prompting her to explain herself. Since his conversation with Martín the previous week, and the shocking revelations that had followed, he had found himself full of energy and confidence. The old Larue was back, he thought to himself, and the ridicule that had fallen on him with the ESA’s exclusion from the Clarke would soon be but a distant memory.
Jacqueline was not accustomed to addressing people of Larue’s status. She took a breath and did her best. “Monsieur Larue, if you don’t mind me saying, the Agency does not normally address the press with this sort of information. This is not a Public Relations exercise. We should release these photos through the appropriate scientific channels.”
Larue smiled. “And we shall. But sometimes, you need to point the press in the right direction, so that they find our properly released material. And if they happen to ask for copies of the photos before anyone else has the opportunity, then so be it. The photos will be released across the scientific network before they appear in Le Monde, Jacqueline, trust me. Just not by much.”
Martín wondered how much Larue would take for the exclusive. If Le Monde was able to publish high resolution photographs in its daily edition, it would only have exclusivity for a few hours, half a day at most. But in the world of Journalism, and with the headline that Martín could already see in his mind’s eye, sometimes a few hours was all that was needed to sell a few extra million copies.
Larue saw the look on the Spaniard’s face and removed the cigar from his mouth. “Martin, the American author Richard Evans once wrote that ‘it is in the darkest skies that stars are best seen’. I think that you will agree that the skies have rarely been darker than most recently. Stars that I had previously never noticed have become visible. You have to pick them out while the skies are still dark, lest the opportunity pass you by.”
Jacqueline looked sideways at her partner, but he said nothing to counter his boss.
Instead, he passed Larue the book he had been holding. “I also have this, Monsieur. It’s my own personal copy. I think that you will find it quite interesting.”
Larue took the book and after a quick glance at the cover, opened it. Inside was a dedication. ‘Martín – Good Luck – Dr Turner.” He closed the book and examined the cover again.
“What is this?” he asked.
Martín leant forward and started to explain.
Chapter 33
With a kiss goodbye and a cheery smile, Dr Gail Turner left the house, leaving George sitting at the dining room table with his newspaper.
If there was one thing that had changed over the years, it was her punctuality.
He cleared breakfast away and placed the dirty things in the dishwasher. He selected the Quick Wash option and pushed the door closed.
Picking up his mug of tea he wandered into the living room. The video wall came to life as he picked up the remote control, automatically tuned in to his favourite comedy series. Sitting down on the sofa, he put his legs up on the coffee table and placed his mug on his belly.
There really wasn’t much else for him to do on his day off; the house pretty much took care of itself, not that they made it very messy between the two of them anyway. Gail wouldn’t be home until late that evening after work and it was Monday, so he didn’t need to cook. Monday was always Fish and Chips day.
The traditional British takeaway had almost disappeared at the start of the century, mainly due to dwindling fish stocks in the surrounding seas. But a European-wide restriction on fishing zones had been sufficient to allow the populations of cod in particular to thrive once more. By 2020, whilst fish consumption had fallen drastically, particularly in the Mediterranean states, fish stocks had grown beyond the most optimistic of estimates.
By the time fishing restrictions were relaxed in the mid 2030’s, however, fish had mostly been replaced on Europe’s menus by organic substitutes. The market leader’s product range had been comprised entirely of fish substitutes for over ten years, and they had no plans to change it. This was partly because substitute products were virtually indistinguishable from real fish in terms of taste and texture. Of course, shape didn’t matter because most fish products sold were processed anyway. Their landmark advertising campaign twenty years previously had challenged celebrities to tell the difference between a real fish cake and a fish-substitute one. Not only had they been unable to correctly identify the real fish, but most had preferred the substitute. Once consumers knew this, their products were an instant success. The substitute was nutritious, tasty, and ethical.