He snapped the 1988 reel into the machine. As he neared October, he slowed, then stopped completely. A [180] large, 72-point banner headline stared at him out of the microfilm viewer.
“Oh, God,” he breathed.
He now knew, without a shred of doubt, why the Whittlesey crates had spent so long in New Orleans.
= 28 =
“I’m sorry, Miss Green, but his door is still closed. I’ll give him your message as soon as possible.”
“Thanks,” Margo said, hanging up her phone with frustration. How could she be Frock’s eyes and ears if she couldn’t even talk to him?
When Frock was deeply involved in a project, he often locked himself in his office. His secretary knew better than to disturb him. Margo had tried to reach him twice already that morning, and there was no telling when he’d re-emerge:
Margo glanced at her watch. 11:20 A.M.—the morning was almost gone. She turned to her terminal and tried logging on to the Museum’s computer.
HELLO MARGO GREEN@BIOTECH@STF
WELCOME BACK TO MUSENET
DISTRIBUTED NETWORKING SYSTEM,
RELEASE 15-5
COPYRIGHT © 1989-1995 NYMNH AND CEREBRAL SYSTEMS INC.
CONNECTING AT 11:20:45 03-30-95
PRINT SERVICE ROUTED TO LJ56
***ALL USERS-IMPORTANT NOTICE***
DUE TO THIS MORNING’S SYSTEM OUTAGE, A RESTORE WILL BE PERFORMED AT NOON. EXPECT DEGRADED PERFORMANCE. REPORT ANY MISSING OR CORRUPTED FILES TO SYSTEMS ADMINISTRATOR ASAP.
ROGER THRUMCAP@ADMIN@SYSTEMS
YOU HAVE 1 MESSAGE(S) WAITING
[182] She brought up the electronic mail menu and read the waiting message.
MAIL FROM GEORGE MORIARTY@EXHIB@STF SENT 10:14:07 03-30-95
THANKS FOR THE LABEL COPY—LOOKS PERFECT, NO CHANGES NECESSARY. WE’LL PUT IT IN WITH OTHER FINISHING TOUCHES BEFORE OPENING TO THE GENERAL PUBLIC.
CARE TO HAVE LUNCH TODAY?
—GEORGE
REPLY, DELETE, FILE (R/D/F)?
Her telephone rang, shattering the silence. “Hello?” she said.
[183] “Margo’? Hi. It’s George,” came Moriarty’s voice.
“Hi,” she replied. “Sorry, just got your message now.’
“I figured as much,” he responded cheerfully. “Thanks again for helping out.”
“Glad to,” replied Margo.
Moriarty paused. “So...” he began hesitantly. “How about that lunch?”
“Sorry,” Margo said. “I’d like to, but I’m waiting for a call back from Dr. Frock. Could be five minutes, could be next week.”
She could tell by the silence that Moriarty was disappointed.
“Tell you what, though,” she said. “You could swing by for me on your way to the cafeteria. If Frock’s called by then, maybe I’ll be free. If he hasn’t ... well, perhaps you could hang out for a couple of minutes while I wait, help me with the
“Sure!” Moriarty replied. “I know every three-letter Australian mammal there is.”
Margo hesitated. “And perhaps while you’re down here, we can take a peek into the accession database, see about the Whittlesey crates ... ?”
