"I don't even have that much to spare."

She fell silent.

"You got a credit card?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Well?"

She looked at him sharply. "Well what? Would I put up the money?"

"We've come this far! Alice, you saw it-the monkey sun G.o.d-the cave-the fossils're in there!"

"But why should I-"

"Look, I know how this must sound to you. But I would pay you just as soon as I could."

"Bie shuo-le, " she said in Chinese without thinking, Don't talk like that. " she said in Chinese without thinking, Don't talk like that.

"You mean you will?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you will?"

"I have to think."

"Alice, I would-"

"Save your breath." She cut him off.

He stopped.

Who am I really? she thought. Am I a woman who's careful, who follows the set plan, does only her duty? Because there is no need for me to go any farther than I've gone already; I've given all this time without pay. So I could stop. Or I could commit to go on, a little farther, into all this that I never expected in my wildest dreams to happen. Breaking some Breaking some respected boundaries means a torrent of new life. respected boundaries means a torrent of new life. And Lin. Lin wants Peking Man, wants it so badly.... "Anyway," she said. "That's the way to negotiate. We get a much smaller amount of cash, we show it to Shan-U.S. dollars, you never know-he just might take it." And Lin. Lin wants Peking Man, wants it so badly.... "Anyway," she said. "That's the way to negotiate. We get a much smaller amount of cash, we show it to Shan-U.S. dollars, you never know-he just might take it."

"But where are we supposed to get actual U.S. dollars in Eren Obo?"

"Oh, that's that's no problem. That, they'll have." no problem. That, they'll have."

"What? No phones here, no running water..."

She rolled her eyes. "You are so naive, Adam. You're right, there's not much here in Eren Obo. But I guarantee you, they will will have American currency." have American currency."

The next day Alice went to the village bank. She had decided to front Spencer's money and he had fallen all over himself, thanking her, the night before. "Don't thank me," she had said. "It's only a loan. And don't you think I'm I'm dying to go into the cave too?" Now as she entered the single desk-crammed room inside a tiny loess-brick structure to draw money on her credit card, she noticed something odd. dying to go into the cave too?" Now as she entered the single desk-crammed room inside a tiny loess-brick structure to draw money on her credit card, she noticed something odd.

"Is that a phone?" she asked.

"Does it look like a phone?" the Mongol inquired.

"Of course. Sorry."

He shrugged and went back to counting out her money in U.S. tens and twenties.

"Might I use it?"

He stared at her as if she had asked for a free camel. "This is the only telephone in the village! It is for the bank's use."

"Pitiable," she said softly.

He gazed at the amazing pile of American money, mouth working silently. Finally he said, "Of course, for a small fee, the bank might consider allowing its use. I'm not too clear. I could ask. We're talking about an emergency, of course."

"Of course," she agreed, and took her money and left.

Kong Zhen had also noted the presence of a telephone in the bank; he possessed an internal radar that guided him infallibly to available telecommunications devices. A gift of rough, sweet local wine to the bank manager came first. Then, the next day, he casually asked permission to make a call to Beijing.

Kong chose the time with care. It was early morning; the bank would be half empty. In Beijing, his cousin Vice Director Han would just be sitting down at his desk, with tea. And then the phone would ring.

"Have you eaten, elder cousin?" Kong asked amiably when first greetings had been exchanged.

"Yes, and you?"

"Yes, thank you. Your family?"

"They're well."

"Good. Then." Kong Zhen paused to signal a little shift. Ordinarily the pleasantries would have gone on longer, but the call was expensive and the bank manager's patience limited. So he plunged on: "Have you taken care of our-our surveillance problem?"

"Eh, yes," the vice director said. "I spoke to District Commander Gao. It's most regrettable what happened to the American female. The commander agrees. But you know- provincial officials-what can you do?"

"Yes. Yes of course. So the situation now ... ?" He let the question trail off.

"Beijing Command will advise them. I think they'll discontinue. Now. What about Peking Man?"

Kong sighed. "The group is no closer to finding it. Though there have been ... clues. Speaking frankly, the American is right about some things. But the fossils themselves? No. Nothing yet." Kong naturally downplayed how close they were to the remains, to the cave. There was no reason to build the vice director up and then disappoint him later. And there was every reason to start drawing his interest away from Peking Man so he could be made to see the incredible Late Paleolithic research that was everywhere here in the Northwest, waiting to be done. He, Kong, saw a future for himself here. Maybe a future with Dr. Spencer.

Kong liked the American. He liked working with him even though they couldn't talk without a go-between. With Dr. Spencer he felt at ease. He knew he should keep a little more distance-after all, Spencer was an outsider-but he didn't.

Eh, Kong thought, my face has always been too open. He thought of the many times his wife had complained at his lack of guile, a quality dangerous for all zhi shi fenzi, fenzi, intellectuals, who came of age first during the famine, and then the Cultural Revolution. "You worthless bone!" she had accused him, so often - "Think before you speak! Breathe through the same nostrils as your superiors! Consider every step, every word-" Of course, she had been right, Baoling had; the slightest mistake during those years-when an idle story told by one man could instantly become fact in the mouths of ten thousand- could bring a man down, and all his family with him. Kong had been one of the lucky ones. He had survived, his wife and son had survived, and he had been allowed to continue as an archaeologist. "Elder cousin," he said now, "it is difficult to call you from this place. But be a.s.sured I will call-if anything occurs." intellectuals, who came of age first during the famine, and then the Cultural Revolution. "You worthless bone!" she had accused him, so often - "Think before you speak! Breathe through the same nostrils as your superiors! Consider every step, every word-" Of course, she had been right, Baoling had; the slightest mistake during those years-when an idle story told by one man could instantly become fact in the mouths of ten thousand- could bring a man down, and all his family with him. Kong had been one of the lucky ones. He had survived, his wife and son had survived, and he had been allowed to continue as an archaeologist. "Elder cousin," he said now, "it is difficult to call you from this place. But be a.s.sured I will call-if anything occurs."

"Thank you," the vice director said. "Duo bao zhong." "Duo bao zhong." Guard your health. Guard your health.

"Bici."

When he had hung up and stepped out onto the iridescent limestone steps and down into the dirt street, Professor Kong replayed the conversation in his mind. The hunter-gatherer work, that was what he wanted now. He hoped he'd been sufficiently casual with his cousin. He hoped he'd handled it right. He wanted all his doors left open.

The soldier who had been standing stiffly at the entrance to the cave motioned to Kuyuk. "They may enter now."

They all scrambled to their feet and exchanged looks. The previous day they'd had a taut verbal struggle with Lieutenant Shan. There had been proposals and counterproposals, feinting and parrying; several times they'd prepared to walk out, ready to abandon the idea of entering the cave-and paying Lieutenant Shan-altogether. Side issues-the inconvenience of the foreigners' presence in a military area, the inevitable damage to archaeological sites and artifacts from military activity-were raised and bartered back and forth. Finally a deal was struck. Spencer counted out six hundred and sixty in American bills, money from Alice's credit card, which the lieutenant folded and stuck in his pocket. No forms, no receipts. It's called the hou men, hou men, Alice explained to Spencer, The back door. Alice explained to Spencer, The back door.

Then this morning they had waited on the rocks for hours, wondering if the PLA's vault people would ever be able to get the pressure lock open. Watching while the line of uniformed soldiers faced them with their a.s.sault rifles c.o.c.ked and ready. "What, do they think we're going to rush the missile bay?" Spencer had whispered.

Now they stood up trembling in the blazing light, brushing off the yellow dust and trying not to scream with excitement.

"Ready?" Kong asked.

"All backpacks and supplies remain outside!" barked the senior PLA officer, who had emerged from the mouth of the cave covered with dirt and sweat. "Only flashlights! Form a single line!"

Alice put this quietly into English. Spencer piled his day pack on the ground with the others. "Camera?" he asked her hopefully.

"You out of your mind?"

"Okay," he groused.

"Zou!" the officer barked. the officer barked.

"Move," she translated.

Kuyuk led them, Kong, Spencer, and Lin following. Then Alice. They filed cautiously into the cave, lit now by powerful hand-torches.

Alice watched Lin's back as she stepped over the rock floor. This is where he touched me in the dark the other day, she thought.

Lin caught the memory, too, turned back to her, just an instant, then looked away.

They came to the petroglyph. She gazed at it in the good light from the soldier's handheld lamps. It was small, like the others, but beautifully wrought. And protected here, in the cave. The whole head was the sun, warm rays streaming from it; the face a wide-eyed, inquisitive monkey. Just like the carvings in the other canyons. Like the picture. Like the message in the margin of Teilhard's letter, the drawing and the words This This is it. is it. This This was was it. She felt the thrill a pilgrim feels, crossing into the holy land. it. She felt the thrill a pilgrim feels, crossing into the holy land.

"Come on," Spencer called from up ahead.

Armed soldiers stood rooted in a row by the submarine lock. The ma.s.sively engineered door yawned open.

They stepped through one at a time.

On the other side a cavernous room opened around them, weirdly illuminated by the roving flashlight beams. In its center hulked some ma.s.sive thing draped in tarpaulins.

It was box shaped, roughly the size and shape of a small truck. Alice edged away from it. A large, densely charactered sign shrieked warnings. She shivered when she recognized the characters yuanzidan, yuanzidan, Nuclear. Never had she been anywhere near such a thing before. Nuclear. Never had she been anywhere near such a thing before.

The armed men filed in and took up posts around the missile.

Spencer spoke in the softest voice, as if more might detonate it, and Alice's translation wove in behind. "Teilhard would have wanted the bones safe, but findable. Let's look the way he would have looked around here fifty years ago. Maybe he went further than just leaving it. He might have put it behind a rock, up a side pa.s.sage. Not far. Just out of sight, that's what I think. So. Rock piles, rocks small enough to have been moved by one man, clefts in the walls, side pa.s.sages..." He played his flashlight around the room, shook his head. "It's a big s.p.a.ce. And I don't think our friends here are going to give us too much time."

Alice glanced at each face as she finished up in Chinese. They all fanned out across the rock floor.

Except Spencer, who sidled up beside her. "It's not a missile!" he whispered.

"What?"

"It's not a missile! Check it out."

She puckered her eyebrows and ran a cautious look from one end of the draped huddle to the other. "What are you talking about?"

"Walk around the far side. That corner-" He made a small movement with his eyes. "Look around the bottom, below the edge of the tarp."

She drew her brows together.

"Just don't let them see you."

She turned to walk in the opposite direction, and started in at the opposite end of the cave wall. She swept her flashlight beam methodically, then moved and looked behind, under, around, everywhere. She got hold of rocks with all her strength, tore her fingernails, turned them over, walked them to the side, anything not to miss a crate of hominid bones.

It was not until many tense, hard-breathing minutes later that she was able to get a look at the missile. Or not-missile. She was finally in position. Now, her moment. She pa.s.sed her flashlight beam in a long, steady arc-the light merely pa.s.sing by on its way to someplace else-over the low corner where the tarp was not straight, where what was underneath was, for a narrow strip, entirely visible.

She almost lost her footing on the dirt floor when she saw.

He was right. This was no missile.

It was gold. Gold bars.

Gold bars cross-stacked, rows of gleaming ingots. Unmistakable. It seemed to give off the very light, the incandescence, of wealth. No nuclear missile, just money. Business. Yi pan san Yi pan san sha, sha, China is a plate of sand. China is a plate of sand.

She gave no outward sign of having seen it, just went on working, studying the wall, probing, covering every inch. She would have liked to tell Lin. Talk to him, stand next to him. Here, though, in this place, it would have been insane.

"What's this?" Kuyuk called, and since it was the fourth time in an hour or so that someone had cried out, Look, or Come over here, or Hey, Dr. Spencer, n.o.body looked over at first. Kuyuk moved a boulder aside, and then sank into a careful squat. He made a small pile of rocks and pebbles as he picked each out of its resting place, and then furrowed his face, angling his flashlight straight down in front of him. He touched something hesitantly. Again he cried out, "Na shi shenmo?"- "Na shi shenmo?"- What's this? What's this?

Now Kong trotted over to him, and Lin. A second later their excited Mandarin spurted up over the damp cave quiet and Spencer and Alice crowded up behind.

"What?"

"Look." Lin's fingers outlined something square.

Alice leaned forward. Yes, oh, unbelievable. It was something square. A perfect, man-made square. A box.

Lin burrowed in a side pocket and drew out a clean cloth. Gently he swept the crumbs of stone away from what appeared to be a large black lacquered box. Around its edges could still be seen the ghost of scrolling gilt paint.

A box.

A crate.

And just the right size to hold skulls, bones, and teeth.

Peking Man.

13.

Alice sank hard to her knees, pulse hammering. The voices, bursting one atop the other in a thrill of Mandarin, and Spencer's English, first "My G.o.d," and then "Can you get it open?" but she couldn't speak, in either language, because for a moment speech lay entirely outside her. She squatted in the cave, in the flashlight-riddled dark, gasping, stunned.