methane, and seventy billion tons of soot. The smoke and dust was so thick that the earth became as dark as the darkest cave, all photosynthesis stopped, and food chains collapsed. A kind of nuclear winter set in and the earth froze for months; that was immediately followed by a galloping greenhouse effect caused by the sudden release of carbon dioxide and methane. It took 130,000 years for the earth's atmosphere to cool down and return to normal.'
Dearborn smacked his lips, licking off a dribble of creme fraiche with a large pink tongue.
'All this is beautifully recorded in the K-T rocks in the RatonBasin. First you see a layer of debris from the impact itself. This layer is grayish and high in the rare element iridium, found in meteorites. Under a microscope, you see it's packed with tiny spherules, frozen droplets of molten rock. Above that layer is a second layer, dead black, which one geologist described as 'the ashes of the Cretaceous world.' Geologists are the most poetic of scientists, don't you think?'
'I'm still puzzled why Weathers would be interested in the K-T boundary if he was just after dinosaur fossils.'
'That's a mystery. Maybe he was using that layer as a way to locate T. Rex fossils. The late Cretaceous, just before the extinction, was when tyrannosaurs ruled the earth.'
'What's a good T. Rex worth these days?'
'Someone once said that all the people who have ever found a T. Rex wouldn't even be enough to field a baseball team. They're the rarest of the rare. I've got two dozen customers waiting to bid on the next T. Rex that comes on the private market, and I'd guess some of them would be willing to pay a hundred million or more.'
Tom whistled.
Dearborn laid down his teacup, his face taking on a thoughtful look. 'I had this feeling...'
'Yes?'
'A feeling that Stem Weathers was looking for something more that just a T. Rex. Something to do with the K-T boundary itself. But exactly what, I couldn't say. . .'
His voice trailed off and he poured himself another cup of tea.
'Poor Stem. And poor Robbie. I don't envy you, having to break the news.'
He drained the cup, ate one final scone, dabbed his face, and wiped the tips of his fingers with his napkin.
'Now it's your turn to talk, Thomas. Tell me what Stem Weathers found. Naturally, you can count on my discretion.' His eyes glowed.
Tom slipped the computer-plotted drawing from his pocket and unfolded it on the the tea table.
Slowly, inexorably, but with huge momentum, the great bulk of Harry Dearborn rose from his chair in silent astonishment.
16
MADDOX STOOD ABOVE the woman, who lay on the bed, her blond hair spread out on the pillow like a halo. She had just begun to stir, gave a moan-and finally her eyes opened. He said nothing, watching the look in her eyes go from confusion to fear as it all came back.
He raised the gun so she could see it. 'No monkey business. You can sit up, but that's it.'
She sat up, wincing as she did so, the manacles around her wrists and ankles clinking.
He gestured around. 'So . . . what do you think?'
No answer.
'I worked hard making it nice for you.'
He had spread a small tablecloth on the cable spool to make a table, put some fresh flowers in a jam jar, and had even hung a signed, limited edition print that he had taken from the cabin. The kerosene lantern threw a yellow glow across the room, which was pleasantly cool compared to the late-afternoon heat outside. The air was fresh, too-no mine vapors or poisonous gases.
'When's Tom coming back?' Maddox said.
No answer. The blond looked away. This was starting to piss him off.
'Look at me.'
She ignored him.
'I said, look at me.' He raised his gun.
She turned her head slowly, insolently, and looked at him. Her green eyes blazed with hatred.
'Like what you see?'
She said nothing. The look on her face was so intense that Maddox found it a
little disconcerting. She didn't look afraid. But she was afraid, he knew that. She was terrified. She had to be. And with good reason.
He stood up and gave her his winning, lopsided smile, holding out his arms. 'Yeah, take a good look. I'm not so bad, right?'
No reaction.
'You're going to see a lot of me, you know that? I'm going to start off by showing you the tattoo on my back. Can you guess what it is?'
No reaction.
'It took two weeks to make, four hours a day for fourteen days. A prison buddy of mine did it, a real genius with the needle. You know why I'm telling you this?'
He paused but she said nothing.
'Because that tattoo is the reason I'm here with you today. Now listen carefully. I want that notebook. Your husband has it. When he gives it to me, I let you go-simple. But to do that, I need to get in touch with him. He got a cell phone? Give me the number and you could be out of here in a few hours.'
Finally she spoke. 'Look him up in the phone book.'
'Aw, now why do you have to be a bitch about it?'
She said nothing. Maybe she still thought she had some kind of say in the situation. He would have to show her otherwise. He would break her like a young filly.
'See those shackles on the wall? They're for you, in case you hadn't guessed.'
She didn't turn.
'Take a good look at them.'
'No.'
'Stand up.'
She remained seated.
He carefully pointed the gun at her ankle, aimed just to the left, fired. The noise was deafening in the enclosed space, and she jumped like a deer. The bullet had gone through the mattress and tufts of stuffing came drifting down.
'Darn. Missed.'
He aimed again. 'You'll limp for the rest of your life. Now stand up.'
She stood up, her cuffs jingling.
'Shuffle over there where those manacles are set in the wall. You're going to take off your cuffs and put those on.'
Now he could see fear leaking through on that arrogant face of hers, despite her efforts to control it. He aimed the gun. 'It might even kill you if it nicks an artery.'
No answer.
'Are you going to do what I say or do I have to shoot you in the foot? Last warning and I'm not kidding.'
Once again, he was serious, and she realized it.
'I'll do it,' she said in a smothered voice. Water was leaking out of her eyes.
'Smart girl. Here's how. The same key goes to both sets. Switch off your ankles first, one at a time. Then your right wrist. I'll do your left myself.' He tossed her the key. She bent down and picked it up, awkwardly unlocked the manacles around her ankles, and followed his instructions.
'Now drop the key.'
He ducked in, retrieved it. 'I'm going to do your left wrist.' He stepped over to the table, placed the gun down on it, went over, and shackled her left wrist. Then he tested the manacles to make sure they had all latched properly.
