28
It was quitting time at the Denver Tech Center. Techies in jeans and khakis, a few managers in shirts and ties, poured from the glass-and-concrete buildings, down the walkways that curved through manicured lawns. Vicky spotted the sign for Global Vision and parked in the lot.
She rode the glass-enclosed elevator to the tenth floor and stepped out into a carpeted reception area with windows that curved around the periphery like the cockpit of a spaceship. Beyond the windows, the clouds seemed close enough to touch.
“May I help you?” A young woman with long, dark hair that hung down the front of her white blouse looked up from a computer screen.
“I have an appointment with Dr. Hendricks.” Vicky handed her business card across the desk.
“He’s expecting you.” The woman gave her a welcoming smile and lifted the phone. “Ms. Holden to see you,” she said into the receiver. Another smile as she set the phone into place.
“Ms. Holden?”
Vicky swung around. A slim man in his mid-thirties, about six feet tall, dressed in khakis and a yellow polo shirt, came toward her, hand extended. His palm was rough against hers, like the palms of men who spent time outdoors.
“Come on back.” He waved her through a doorway and into a large room filled with cubicles. “Here we are.” A hand shot out at her side and ushered her into a cubicle on the right.
It was small: a couple of chairs, bookcases crammed with books and cartons, a desk in front of the window. An outsized computer monitor took up most of the desk’s surface.
“Make yourself at home.” He pulled a chair over to the edge of the desk and dropped into the other chair in front of the monitor. “Jacob tells me you’re looking into the possibility of diamond deposits in the Bear Lake Valley,” he said. “Wonderful place.” His expression took on a faraway look. “Spent a couple weeks hiking up there two years ago, looking at the petroglyphs. You can sense something special about the place. Be a shame to see the valley ruined by a mine.”
“My people won’t let it happen.” Vicky felt the beginning of trust for this white man.
“Arapahos.”
She nodded.
He turned to the computer and began clicking the mouse. A haze of gray, blue, and green flowed onto the screen, like an impressionistic painting taking shape. “You’re seeing a bird’s-eye view of Wyoming,” he said, his gaze on the colors that dissolved and re-formed. “From about four hundred miles above the earth’s surface. There are the Wind River mountains below the cloud cover.” He pointed to the knobs of white poking through the grayness. “Okay, now we’re closing in on the central part of the state. I’m going to bring it up.”
She was looking down on the Wind River mountains: the snow covering the high, treeless peaks, the sharp definition of cliffs, the rivers threading the area. A tiny truck was on a road. Ranch buildings, trucks, and cars scattered about a green meadow, like miniature blocks.
Slowly the image began moving eastward over the valley itself. They were skimming the tops of the junipers and pinons, swooping overhead like the eagles that guarded the area. She could see the jagged cliffs and Bear Lake nestled at the base of the slopes. “I don’t see the petroglyphs,” she said.
“They’re here.” The image stopped on the cliffs above the lake. “We’re looking straight down, so we can’t pick up the vertical images on the face of the cliffs.”
After a moment she heard herself telling the scientist that the valley was a holy place where the spirits had chosen to live on the earth.
“I believe it,” he said, moving the mouse. “Now let’s go prospecting.” The view was changing. The mountain slopes and pine trees gave way to meadows carpeted in grasses.
Vicky held her breath. Suppose there was no pipe. Her theory would collapse. Nothing about the deaths of Vince and Jana Lewis would make sense.
“Bingo,” Hendricks said. “Here it is.” He pointed to an open park. “Kimberlites are marked by vegetation anomalies. No trees in the area, and noticeably higher stands of grass, which makes the pipe susceptible to remote sensing. Also, notice the bluish earth caused by the erosion of the rocks.”
There was a clicking sound, and the image was magnified. Through the brush and grass, Vicky could see the large bluish circle in the earth. The circle was enclosed by dark rocks, so different from the red-and-brown boulders in the area and the pink sandstone cliffs above.
“A kimberlite pipe,” Hendricks said. “Formed from molten lava thrust up four hundred million years ago. Brought diamonds close to the surface, where human beings, real Johnny-come-latelies on the earth, found the sparkling nuggets and decided they’d look good on their bodies. Imagine. People walking around with billion-year-old rocks on their fingers.” He glanced at her left hand, then looked away.