Chapter Twenty
Look but do not touch,” Lamb repeated for a third time as Charlie and I followed him to the entrance in the canvas. “And let me remind you that everything you observe is completely and utterly confidential.”
“Your secrets are safe with us, Professor,” Charlie assured him.
Lamb’s eye narrowed, but he pulled back the canvas flap and we stepped inside. The enclosure was not a tent, but more of a wide privacy fence. Each wall angled inward toward the top, which provided a bit more shade, but left the top wide-open for sunlight. The tools had been laid out neatly, and here and there smaller drop cloths and tarpaulins had been draped over sections of the skeleton. The widest of these covered a broad stretch of earth toward the creature’s back. Whether these were in place to protect the fossils from the elements or because of Lamb’s paranoia about privacy, I could only guess. Lamb and his crew had made considerable progress. The contours of the head were fully visible now, and although the midsection had been partially shrouded under the tarpaulin, it was clear that Lamb’s team had uncovered the full curve of the gigantic beast’s spine.
Mr. Bradley, the slender dark-skinned man, was working his way down the creature’s neck with a brush and fine chisel. He smiled at our approach until he caught Lamb’s glare, and then hastily returned to his work.
“You say you’re Daniel Rook’s daughter?” Lamb asked as he walked us down the length of the creature.
“That’s right,” I said.
“Well, let’s see if you actually picked up anything useful from your father’s not entirely negligible career. To what bones do the tibia and fibula attach?”
If he had asked me to thread a needle or play the harpsichord, I might have balked, but I had assembled model skeletons as a child the way most little girls assembled jigsaw puzzles. “To the femur at one end—that’s the knee joint—and to the tarsals on the other—the ankle.”
Mr. Bradley kept his head down while Lamb was looking, but he snuck me a supportive nod as we passed. I wondered how someone so pleasant had come to work for a walking scowl like Lewis Lamb. “And what is after the ankle?” my inquisitor continued drily.
“The same as it is with humans, the foot and the toes. Metatarsals and phalanges, if you prefer. With most dinosaurs, as with modern birds, the metatarsals are actually clear off the ground, with the weight of the thing on its—”
“Wrong,” Lamb interrupted.
“Wrong? No, I’m quite certain—”
“You’re wrong, Miss Rook. As you can plainly see, after the ankle joint there is . . . nothing at all. That is the point. My dinosaur’s entire foot has been stolen.”
I looked down. The massive femur was still there. Beneath it lay the long tibia and fibula, but then there sat a series of hollows in the earth, outlining where the creature’s long talons should have been. The bones of the foot were gone.
“These were definitely here last night,” Charlie said, stepping carefully around the hollows. I nodded.
“I tried to stop her, boss!” wheezed August Murphy suddenly from the entryway. His freckles were lost in a mask of beet red.
Nellie Fuller was stepping over a pile of freshly turned soil. Her slick, striped dress looked as sharp as her tongue, cut expertly to complement her full figure. It was out of place in the dirty mess, but she strode across the uneven terrain with confidence.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Lamb snarled.
“Journalism,” she said. “It’s a terrible habit, I know, but I can’t seem to kick it. Hello! Isn’t this a handsome fellow?”
Mr. Bradley fumbled with his chisel.
“I mean that strapping brute you’re digging up.” Miss Fuller said. “But what’s your name, mister?”
“Bradley. Bill Bradley, miss.”
“Good name, Bill. Alliteration always looks sharp in typeset. What species would you say you’re uncovering?”