The Roswell Conspiracy (21 page)

Tyler and Jess were seated on a second-story patio warmed by heat lamps to fend off the evening chill. The position gave them a dazzling view of the moonlit Pacific. The expansive sea suggested just how isolated they were on the tiny island. Beyond the distant horizon, the ocean was uninterrupted by land for another 1,200 miles.

As they waited for their green curry appetizers and pisco sours made with Rapa Nui’s native grape hard alcohol and lemons, they quietly took in the scenery, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Once the food and drinks arrived, Tyler filled the awkward silence by asking Jess about her research during the flight.

“Did you and Fay figure out exactly where the map is taking us tomorrow?”

“We think so,” Jess said. “The map shows a jagged line going from the center of the island to the point on the coast where we’re supposed to find whatever it is we’re looking for. Comparing it to the satellite photo of Rapa Nui, we narrowed it down to a dry creek just south of the Ahu Maitake Te Moa.”

“What are we looking for? One of Easter Island’s famous statues?”

Tyler had seen photos of the stoic monoliths, some with the creepy white eyes still in place, but he didn’t know much about them other than their general appearance and massive size, some of them weighing in at more than eighty tons.

“I doubt what we’re looking for is one of the Moai,” she said.

“Why not?”

“From what I read on the plane, it seems clear that all eight hundred and eighty-seven of them have been well studied and documented. They’re either located on Ahu—those are the ceremonial stone platforms—or they are still lying in the quarries where they were carved.”

“How do you think they are related to Roswell and Nazca?” he asked.

“I don’t know the link to Roswell, but a connection to the Nazca is a possibility. Nana is a much better authority on Nazca than I ever will be, but my understanding is that there was an exodus from the Nazca plain of Peru sometime between
AD
five hundred and seven hundred. No one knows for sure why they left or where they went, but some anthropologists think South American migrants settled this region of Polynesia around that time. The Nazca people could have been among them. Thor Hyerdahl proved that it was possible by building a raft called
Kon-Tiki
using only materials that would have been available to people at that time. Now scientists mostly dismiss that notion, but nobody has proven it with certainty either way.”

“Could the Moai have been created by the same people who drew the Nazca lines?”

“Supposedly the Moai came hundreds of years later, but who knows? Maybe the statues were created by their descendants. The height of their construction was in the 1600s until it came to an abrupt halt and the island’s population crashed.”

Tyler nodded. “I remember there was a book called
Collapse
a few years back. The theory was that the natives cut down all the trees on the island to transport the statues, and when that happened, they didn’t have building materials for canoes or shelter anymore.”

“Right. Jared Diamond popularized that theory.”

“Theory? Looks like a slam dunk. I didn’t see more than a couple of trees when we were coming in for a landing.”

“They’ve replanted some trees in the center of the island, but it’s still mostly barren grassland. They could have used trees to move the statues, but that’s just one theory.”

“Really? I thought it was pretty well established the islanders transported the Moai on rolling logs.”

“There have been arguments about that for decades. Another theory is that they may have been moved by human sweat alone by dragging the statues with ropes made from the trees.”

Tyler chuckled. “Come on. Dragging rocks weighing over a hundred thousand pounds?”

Jess smiled. “Which is why some of the more out-there ideas include alien intervention and tractor beams.”

Tyler grinned at that. “There we go with the aliens again. Fay sure seems convinced that we’re dealing with spacemen.”

“She’s got me doubting myself. What about you?”

“I’m a skeptic, but I’m also open-minded. However, I’d like some more evidence before I conclude that the Nazca lines and the Moai were created by beings from outer space.”

“Right now, theories are all we have to go on. Another bizarre hypothesis for how the statues were moved comes from an old woman who told the first European explorers that the Moai walked to their current positions.”

“Now you’re just trying to make the aliens seem reasonable.”

“No, really. A man named Pavel Pavel tied ropes to one of the smaller twelve-ton Moai and by rocking it back and forth, he and a crew of seventeen men were able to move it, covering ground at a rate of six hundred and fifty feet per day.”

“Sounds possible if the base were shaped correctly and the statue had an optimal center of gravity—not so low that it would be hard to rock, but not so high that it would topple easily.”

“The problem was that it chipped the base, and none of the Moai show that kind of damage.”

Tyler scooped up the last of the curry. “The Moai were moved from quarries. Do you think the wood engraving is leading us to something like that?”

“It’s possible, but Nana had an alternative theory. The map is steering us toward the northwestern edge of the island. Rapa Nui’s ocean-side cliffs are riddled with caves that were painted by the natives. Her guess is that we’ll find one at that location.”

Tyler groaned. “More caves?”

“What’s the matter?”

“I’ve just had a lot of experience with caves lately, none of it good.”

“Suck it up. We’ll get some ropes and flashlights in the morning in case Nana’s right.”

Their main course of Chilean sea bass arrived along with another round of drinks.

Tyler took a bite and then saw that Jess was only staring at her food.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“I was just thinking how odd it is to be here—on Easter Island of all places—having dinner with you like this after all these years.” She picked up her fork and began eating. “It seems so normal.”

“Especially after the last few days.”

“Do you remember that time during that snowstorm right before Christmas when I dared you to run across the quad naked with me?”

Tyler laughed. He hadn’t thought about that night in more than a decade. “I remember thinking that you were crazy.”

“Why wouldn’t you do it?”

He shrugged. “I was a ROTC cadet. I couldn’t afford to get caught doing something like that.”

“Are you still that uptight?”

“Uptight? Just because I wouldn’t freeze my ass off running around campus in my skin?”

“Nobody would have seen us.”

“I just didn’t want to do it.”

“That’s what I mean. You were—are—charming, smart, competent, stable. You’re also logical to a fault. You measure the pros and cons of everything you do. Every action is an equation with you. I just wanted you to be more impulsive sometimes. Like when you saved Fay in Queenstown.”

“That wasn’t impulsive. That was necessity. Two men were shooting at us.”

“What about coming to Australia with us?”

Tyler focused on his food before looking at Jess again. “You and Fay needed help.”

Jess smiled. “You always were a sucker for the damsel in distress.” She picked at her food. “Nana told me the details about your wife’s car accident. That must have been rough.”

“Thanks. It’s not something that’s included in my Gordian Engineering website profile.”

“Did you ever wade back into the dating pool?”

Just like the Jess he recalled. Never one to beat around the bush. Tyler downed the rest of his drink.

“Since Karen died I’ve met a couple women I got close to,” he said, “but unfortunately we couldn’t make it work. My job takes me all over the world. Makes it difficult to maintain a relationship.”

“Is that on purpose?”

“A consequence.”

“Huh.”

“What does that mean?”

“You were so adamant about settling down right away,” Jess said. “I just never figured you for the love-’em-and-leave-’em type.”

“A lot’s changed since college,” Tyler said.

“I see that.”

“But not with you.”

“I tried marriage once. Not a good match.”

“Was he too logical?”

“The opposite. He was a pretty surfer boy. Mooched off me for two years before I called it quits.”

“And now?”

She shrugged. “I used one of those online matchmaking services, but after the fourth drooling weirdo showed up to meet me at some coffee house, I gave up trying to find a soul mate. Now I just use it for sex.”

Tyler gaped at her, dumbfounded, until she let out a huge belly laugh.

“Kidding! Boy, maybe you really haven’t changed.”

Tyler shook his head and smiled. Then he ordered another drink.

* * *

They lost track of time and didn’t stumble out of the restaurant until eleven p.m. Reminiscing about college days had resulted in lots of laughs and an extended period at the bar.

Tyler had realized too late that his five drinks were more pisco than sour. He downed a couple of waters before they left, but the walk back to the hotel only accelerated the absorption of alcohol into his system.

Not that Jess was any better. She’d had the same number of cocktails that he did and weighed about half as much. They leaned on each other as they veered down the hall toward their rooms.

Jess stumbled and Tyler barely caught her, causing them both to stifle guffaws.

“This is what I should’ve done,” she said.

“What? Gotten me drunk? I still wouldn’t have run around naked in the quad.”

“How about now?”

“No way.”

“You’re no fun.”

They reached their doors, which were right across from each other—Fay and Jess’s room on one side and Tyler’s on the other.

Jess patted her pockets, then said, “Dammit.”

“What?”

“I left my key in the room.”

Tyler’s head cleared for a moment. He didn’t think Jess would try such a transparent ploy. “You did not.”

“If you don’t believe me, search my pockets.”

“I believe you.” He raised his fist, but Jess grabbed it before he could knock on the door.

“If Nana’s sleeping, I don’t want to wake her.”

In some distant part of Tyler’s brain, a little voice screamed that what he was about to say was a terrible idea, but his alcohol-lubricated id put the cautionary alarm on mute.

“Sleep on my bed,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “I’ll take the couch.”

Jess went motionless. “I … I can’t.”

He took out his key and raised one hand like he was swearing on oath of office. “I promise I’ll be a gentleman.”

She grinned. “Impulsive.”

“Practical.”

“Right.” Jess took a long look at him, but her eyes eventually flicked back the way they’d come. “I think I’ll go get another key from the front desk.”

Tyler nodded and tried to laugh his way out of the situation. “That would also work.”

Jess gave him a hug. “I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too.”

She let him go and headed to the lobby. Tyler waited until she was out of sight. She never once looked back.

Tyler opened his door and went inside, where he planned to bang his head against the wall until his id was in a coma.

THIRTY

With Easter Island sixteen hours behind Sydney, Grant thought Tyler was probably asleep by now. Too bad he was missing the view.

The steel arch of Sydney Harbour Bridge, its spine dotted with tourists partaking in the BridgeClimb experience, provided the backdrop for the three-way intersection below. The sunny afternoon meant that the street was crowded with strolling pedestrians who’d wandered away from the nearby waterfront attractions in search of food or window shopping along the tree-lined streets. Well-maintained brick buildings, common to The Rocks, as the area was known, provided a quaint respite from the bustling business district only a few blocks away.

Grant didn’t need binoculars to see the planter at the corner of Hickson and George where Kessler was supposed to drop off the xenobium, but he used them anyway. Morgan, lithe in a sports bra and Lycra leggings and pretending to be out for an afternoon jog, stretched her legs on the planter, surreptitiously depositing a fist-sized metal container into the box of geraniums.

When she peeled out of her stretch, she threw a pointed glance at the window before she trotted away. Morgan knew Grant was watching her through the blinds and wanted him to know it.

Eh. He didn’t care that she knew he was staring. Grant had been sitting in the third-floor apartment for six hours now. He didn’t mind Morgan’s fine form spicing up the day, even if she had been nothing but a pain the entire time.

She’d picked a room at the Holiday Inn high enough to give them a good view of the area, but low enough that it wouldn’t take them long to reach ground level if they spotted the target. Their luggage lay on the beds and Chinese takeout containers littered the small kitchen nook.

Two tactical squads of the Australian national police waited in vans around the corner, ready to move in if Grant recognized one of the targets.

But they’d decided they needed bait. The scientists at Pine Gap rigged up a small device that would emit just enough radiation to set off a detector. Now all they had to do was wait until midnight to see if their trap would snare any varmints.

Five minutes later, a key rattled in the door and Morgan walked in.

“Have a good run?” Grant said cheerfully.

“Did you get a good look while I was down there?” she said with a deadpan expression.

“Of you? Bird’s-eye view.”

“You’re not around women much, are you?”

“Are you kidding? I grew up with four older sisters. There were nothing
but
women in my house. That’s why I appreciate them so much.” He waggled his eyebrows at Morgan, then smiled and turned back to the window.

As she rummaged in her bag for a change of clothes, Morgan said, “If you’re trying to bother me, it won’t work. After spending time in a squadron with fifteen guys, this is a breeze.”