frowned. It showed the same pale, slightly pudgy torso as the first photo, with a distinctive reddish mole at four o’clock from the navel to clinch the identification. But the surgical scar was gone.
“You don’t have to go to the wilds of Brazil to have cosmetic surgery to remove scars,” Annja said.
“You rather make my point, I think,” Publico said with a smile.
Annja shrugged. “I’m intrigued. I’ll admit that much.”
He showed her a frank grin. “So you’re to be a hard sell. Well, I’d expect nothing less of you.”
He braced hands on thighs and stood. “Well, come with me, if you will, and I’ll see if I can sell you.”
“B RAZIL HAS QUITE A HISTORY of widespread and well-documented UFO sightings, you know,” Publico said. “What if some of the Maroons, retreating up the river from encroaching colonists, stumbled upon a crash site?”
They walked along the side of a sunken room Moran referred to as his “command center.” Large plasma monitors hung from the ceiling over rings of workstations where staff wearing Bluetooth earpieces typed rapidly and spoke in earnest murmurs.
Annja chuckled. “I’m not sure that’s the tack to take,” she said. “You know I’m the show’s resident skeptic.”
“Ah, but you have an affinity for the strange, as well.”
She crossed her arms and smiled tightly to hide the little shudder that ran through her. How true that was, she thought.
To divert attention from herself she gestured around them and said, “Where are we, anyway? What’s this building? Yours?”
“In a manner of speaking. It’s the New York headquarters of my eleemosynary network. It belongs to the institute, not to me personally. Although I admit I have freedom of the place.”
“I’m impressed at the word eleemosynary.”
“Not all my degrees are honorary, Ms. Creed. My MBA from Harvard, for example.”
“A Harvard MBA? I thought you were antiestablishment, antiglobalization and all that.”
“Ah, but running a humanitarian operation—actually a global network ranging from relief agencies to activists for a score of worthy causes—is an incredibly demanding task. So I learn the enemy’s skills to use against him, as it were.”
“If you say so.”
He turned to face her. “Annja, I understand your skepticism. But why not go and see for yourself? That’s what the spirit of scientific inquiry is about, isn’t it?”
“Well…yes. And I have to admit you’ve at least given me enough to intrigue me.”
“What do I need to make you passionate? I spoke earlier of saving the world. How about it? You can literally save the world—or many of the people who live on it—by helping track down the secret of conquering death. What else are you doing that’s more exciting? More magnificent?”
“Well. Nothing. Since you put it that way,” Annja said. She felt breathless, overwhelmed, needing to take back a little control of the conversation. “What if there’s nothing to it? I can’t promise results. It will probably turn out to be baseless.”
“Then you’ll do it?”
“I asked you first.”
He laughed aloud. Some of the earnest heads down in the pit turned up to look at him, then back to their business. Annja supposed they were saving the world in the event eternal life didn’t pan out.
“I won’t ask even you to deliver what does not exist,” he said. “But I suspect if I asked the impossible, in just the right way, you’d deliver.”
“Flattery will get you—well, I guess it usually works in the real world, doesn’t it?”
“I never flatter,” he said simply. He took her gently by the arm. “Come and meet your associate.”
“A NNJA , this is Dan Seddon,” Publico said. “He’ll be accompanying you to Brazil.”
They stood in an echoing space beneath what appeared to be the interior of a pyramid of translucent white blocks. A young man stood in the center, next to a slowly rotating statue of dark metal, possibly bronze. The shape suggested a feather sprouting from the floor. He turned with a certain fluid, alert grace at their approach.
When he saw Annja he smiled. She smiled back and held out her hand. He took it and shook it firmly. He didn’t seem the sort to kiss it.
He had a stylish brush of hair, either brown or dark blond, frosted lighter blond. His eyes were a green or hazel, not too different from Annja’s own and alive with curiosity. His face was a tanned narrow wedge with dark brows. His nose had been almost patrician thin and straight, but had been broken at least once and had a bump in the bridge to give it character. His grin had a practiced flash to it.
“Good to meet you, Ms. Creed,” he said, businesslike enough. He wore a lightweight jacket over a white shirt and blue jeans. His shoes were walking shoes, good quality. That scored points with Annja. An experienced field archaeologist who also tramped great distances in the course of her work with Chasing History’s Monsters, she knew the value of good footwear.
“My pleasure, Mr. Seddon,” she said. “So, you’re an archaeologist?”
“No.”
“Anthropologist?”
“No.” His manner was relaxed. Perhaps even a trifle superior.
“Dan is a troubleshooter,” Publico put in as smoothly as his gravelly voice would allow. “He’s been a major activist for years, campaigning against globalization all over the world. Seattle 2000. Italy ’03. Now he specializes in getting things done for me. He’s proved himself a key part of my humanitarian operations.”
Seddon smiled a lazy smile.
Annja frowned. “I’m sure Mr. Seddon has great abilities in his field,” she said. “But I’m not sure what he brings to the table for an archeological expedition.”
“It doesn’t really rise to the level of an expedition yet,” Publico admitted. “I hope it’ll turn into one. In the opening phases, though, it’s likely to entail a combination of intensive historical research and detective work.”
“You’ve got the historical angle nailed,” Seddon said with a grin. “I know you’re good at that. Not like that bimbo Kristie.”
Maybe this guy is okay, Annja thought.
“Mark’s career as a campaigner has involved no small amount of investigative work,” Moran said.
“Digging up dirt on exploiters and polluters,” the young man said. “Also I might just be able to look out for you. I’ve been around some.”
Annja had to press her lips together at the thought of his looking out for her. “I’d
