Read Online Search: A Novel of Forbidden History by Judith Reeves-Stevens, Garfield Reeves-Stevens - Free Book Online Page B

operational security on my investigation by going to a third party, I’m inclined to ask you to serve as a consultant to my team.”
    Kowinski’s lips thinned. “Just so we’re agreed. I will not allow the reputation of this lab to be sullied by having it involved in research that could be considered fringe, speculative, or . . . or laughable.”
    “Agreed. You accept?”
    “Do you have the authority to give me the necessary clearance?”
    “I do.”
    “Then I’m in. Now what the hell is this all about?”
    “What do you know about Holden Stennis Ironwood?”
    Lyle was gratified to see that the colonel was thrown off guard by the unexpected question. “Wealthy. Very wealthy. Outspoken. I know he’s been in the news for government investigations. Something to do with buying newspapers and television stations. Oh, and he’s building a private rocket for tourist—” She stopped. Lyle guessed her mind had finallydragged up the one piece of information she had hoped wouldn’t be involved in this matter. “He believes in flying saucers.”
    “Big-time,” Roz added, not helping.
    Kowinski waved a hand at the screen, her shoulders not nearly as square as they had been. “Is that what that’s supposed to be?
Alien
DNA?”
    “No,” Lyle said, doing his best to sound reassuring. “Ironwood is the focus of this investigation, but it has nothing to do with his various . . . let’s call them hobbies.”
    “If it’s not alien DNA, and it’s not human DNA, then what is it?” Kowinski demanded. “And what is its connection to David Weir?”
    “All very good questions,” Lyle said. “The exact ones I need your help to answer.”

SEVEN
    Ironwood said something, but Merrit’s attention was elsewhere.
    He was watching the lights of the Los Angeles skyline brighten against a twilight orange sky, but in his mind’s eye, he was picturing the sun-sparkled waters of the South Pacific, himself cutting easily through those warm turquoise waters, sharks slicing past on all sides, silent, effortless. It was where he’d been five days ago. Where he’d prefer to be. Now, however, in the confines of the lounge of a private observation rail car, Ironwood’s words merged with the rhythmic clack of steel wheels on steel tracks, disturbing Merrit’s perfect moment.
    He turned from the window. “Sorry. A gift from what?”
    Ironwood, in linen pants and a vintage silk Hawaiian shirt, cradled the Polynesian meteorite Merrit had retrieved for him.
    “A gift from the Nommo.” Ironwood said the odd name with satisfaction. He held the meteorite up to the light as if it were fine crystal and not an eight-kilo lump of metal.
    Merrit replayed that last word in his mind. Outside, the surprisingly small cluster of the city’s tall downtown buildings slid past the chrome-framed window as the train picked up speed, leaving Union Station. Merrit wasn’t looking forward to spending three days crossing the country. He didn’t understand why someone as rich as Ironwood wasted so much time, no matter how much he hated flying.
    Ironwood was on the other side of the lounge, on a long green divan designed for much smaller frames. Each side of the mohair-wool-upholstered bench sported Streamline Moderne curves of pale blond wood striped in thin flashings of brushed nickel. A round glass and chrome table to the left held a polished steel lamp shaped like a cobra head. It cast a warm glow on the man and his newest treasure.
    “Nommo. The aliens who gave us civilization. Probably jump-started our evolution, too.”
    Merrit normally avoided discussing his employer’s crazy-ass beliefs. What did it matter where civilization had come from a billion or whateveryears ago? What did it matter if aliens had been here if they weren’t around now?
    Billionaires, however, enjoyed the luxury of indulging their obsessions and, as jet-lagged as Merrit was after his flight from Tahiti to Los Angeles, he knew from experience he’d be expected to take