doors opening onto an elegantly laid-out Zen garden. The gravel was perfectly raked, and the stones, though apparently natural at first glance, had actually been subtly carved into abstract forms that both arrested and soothed the eye. Just as Katharine and Michael were about to seat themselves on a deep leather-upholstered sofa, the door from the receptionist’s office opened and Stephen Jameson stepped in.
“Dr. Sundquist,” he said, taking Katharine’s hand in his and gripping it warmly. “So nice to meet you. Sorry to be late — I was just finishing something up in the lab downstairs. And you must be Michael,” he continued, releasing his grip on Katharine’s hand to extend his hand toward Michael. “Steve Jameson.”
“Hi,” Michael said, briefly shaking the doctor’s hand. “Look, I’m really sorry Mom called you—”
“Suppose I be the judge of whether she should have called me or not?” Jameson interrupted. He tipped his head toward a door set into a wall that was otherwise filled with bookshelves. “Why don’t you go in there and take your shirt off, then we’ll have a look.” When Michael was gone, he gestured Katharine into one of the two chairs in front of his desk, dropped something that looked like a plastic card into the top drawer of a credenza, then seated himself in the chair opposite Katharine. “Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?”
Katharine related the story as briefly as she could as Jameson jotted a few notes. Then she waited in the office as the doctor followed Michael into the next room.
Half an hour later, Dr. Jameson’s examination of Michael finished, he lowered his large frame into the chair behind his desk and waited until Michael, still buttoning his shirt, emerged from the other room and took the chair next to his mother. Jameson winked at him, then turned to Katharine.
“Well, I’ve done as much poking, prodding, and peering as I can, and I’ve listened to practically every inch of his lungs. I had Jade take a set of X rays, which she should be finished cooking in a few more minutes. The blood and urine samples will take a little longer, but unless something unexpected shows up, I don’t see anything for you to be worried about.”
“But last night—”
“Last night he had a nightmare, and bad dreams can make for some of the worst noises you’ve ever heard,” Jameson interrupted. The door to the examining room opened and Jade Quinn appeared, holding a large sheet of film which she placed on a light box built into one of the walls. “Why don’t we take a look?” the doctor suggested.
As far as Katharine could tell, the picture showed Michael’s lungs looking no different than they had the last time they’d been X-rayed in New York. “Considering his history of asthma, they’re in remarkably good shape,” she heard Jameson say. “And his lung capacity, though not quite up to where I’d like it to be, isn’t anything to worry about, either. All in all, I’d have to say he’s in very good health.”
Katharine felt a surge of relief.
“Then can I go to school now?” Michael asked.
“As far as I’m concerned, you can.”
“And my mother can stop worrying about me every second of the day?”
Jameson smiled. “I’m just a doctor,” he said. “There are some things even I can’t stop.”
Katharine stood up. “I guess maybe I overreacted last night,” she said, extending her hand to the doctor. “I can’t thank you enough for taking a look, though.”
Jameson spread his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Glad to be of service. And please feel free to call me anytime.” He walked them to the door of the office, nodded a final good-bye as they left, then returned to his desk and picked up the phone.
“I’ve finished my examination of the boy,” he said when the call was answered at the other end. “It appears that he, too, has somehow been exposed to the project.”
“How is that possible?” Takeo Yoshihara demanded.
“I’m sure I don’t know, since security is not my department,” Jameson replied. “But nonetheless, it seems to have happened.”
For a long moment Takeo Yoshihara said nothing. Then: “For now, we will take no action. We will watch him, as we are watching the others. We’re far too close to success to run any risks now,” he said. “If it becomes necessary, we will dispose of him.”
CHAPTER 18
“You’re really sure you’re all right?” Katharine fretted as she pulled the Explorer to a stop in the school’s parking lot. Despite the doctor’s assurances, she couldn’t convince herself that her son’s terrible wheezing last night had been caused by nothing more than a bad dream.
“I’m fine,” Michael insisted for at least the fourth time since they’d left the estate. Grabbing his book bag from the backseat, he swung out of the car and slammed the door. Then he opened it again and stuck his head back in. “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened last night, Mom. I didn’t mean to scare you, and I won’t do it again. But you’ve got to stop worrying about me every minute of the day. I’m really okay now.”
Katharine sighed and stretched in the driver’s seat. Her whole body felt as tired and sore as if she’d already been crouching over the skeleton up in the ravine all day, instead of still having that job to look forward to. “I’ll try,” she agreed. Before she could say anything more, Michael glanced at his watch, waved to her, then turned and started toward the building. She watched him until he’d disappeared inside, still unable to shake the feeling that, despite his assurances, there was something he wasn’t telling her, something he was keeping to himself. But as she started out of the parking lot a moment later, she told herself that maybe the problem wasn’t Michael at all.
Maybe it was her.
She hadn’t gotten more than an hour’s sleep last night — maybe two — and she felt bone weary already. And she still had an entire day of work ahead, moving the skeleton from the site in the ravine into the safety of Rob’s office. But the very thought of spending the rest of the day stooped over the bones, carefully freeing them from their shallow grave, only made her feel even more exhausted. Finally she pulled her cell phone out of her bag and called Rob. “I’ve got a deal for you,” she said. “If you can get the skeleton collected without me, I’ll fix you dinner tonight. I think I’m getting too old to stay up all night and then work in the field all day.”
“Not a problem,” he replied. “Go home. By this afternoon I’ll have it all moved indoors. See you later.”
Dropping the phone back in her bag, Katharine pulled out of the parking lot, remembering as she was starting up the road toward her house that the only things in the refrigerator were a half gallon of milk, a few eggs, and a six-pack of Cokes. Taking a deep breath, she made a right half a mile farther on and headed for the market in Kula, wondering whether Rob would prefer steak or chicken.
Hearing her name half an hour later as she was pushing the cart through the last aisle of the grocery store, Katharine looked up in surprise. The man who was smiling at her looked familiar, but for a moment she couldn’t quite place him.
“Phil Howell,” he said, reading her confusion. “Astronomer? Friend of Rob Silver’s?”
“Of course,” Katharine assured him, her memory finally putting it together. “Sorry — I’m afraid I was up all night. In fact, I’m on my way home to sleep the entire day.”
“Lucky you,” Howell sighed. “I’ve been on top of the mountain all night, and now I’ve got about five hours of work on the supercomputer down in Kihei.”
Katharine cocked her head. “Kihei? Isn’t that down by the water on the other side of the island? I thought the computer was up on the mountain.”
“I wish,” Howell sighed. “But our guys only use a little tiny part of it. Most of it’s being used by everyone else. Schoolkids, business types — you name it. It’s an amazing machine — you can do anything with it if you know how.”
Katharine went silent, the image she’d seen on the monitor in Rob’s office popping into the forefront of her mind: the skull, and the strange video file that had been linked to it, both of which had mysteriously vanished from the screen, defying even Rob’s ability to reconstruct the file. Now an idea was forming in her mind. “How good are you with that computer?” she asked.
“A lot better than I wish, actually,” Phil Howell said wryly. “I spend far more time on the computer than I do
