Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📗

the voices were only a few feet away, and when she peeked over her magazine, she saw Mulder, wearing a white lab coat, put his hand on the shoulder of the other man, fully dressed in black. As they walked toward her, she quickly dove back behind her magazine again. After a few seconds, the footsteps stopped again, and she felt that the two men stood straight between her and the elevator.

“Like I said. No need to worry,” Mulder assured the man in black. When he tried to shake his hand, the man held his hands in his jacket pockets. Mulder turned to the couch when he saw the young woman reading. “Ah, Jennifer.”

With a feeling of complete unease, she squinted her eyes and opened them wide again to make sure she had a neutral expression on her face. Then she lowered the magazine. “Mr. Mulder.” She tried to sound as normal as possible.

“Please, call me Eldin,” Mulder replied. “You look better.” He took in the young woman dressed in jeans and yellow-flowered T-shirt. Then he addressed the man in black. “This is the young woman I was talking about.”

“Ah, the one whom you are trying to convince to work with you,” the man said now in a calm voice.

Jennifer was amazed by the friendly interaction between the two men who had just been yelling at each other. She put down the magazine, got up, and with an outstretched hand, approached the man in black.

“I think you better go,” Mulder addressed the man, pushing the elevator button, and quickly turning the man’s shoulder toward it. “Sorry, but I’m already late, and I don’t want to keep Miss Porter waiting any longer.”

The man in black quickly took his hands from his pockets, and with two hands, he grabbed Jennifer’s hand and shook it. As he let go, she felt something in her hand, a paper card.

“It was nice to meet you, Ms. Porter.” The man gave a tiny bow.

“Thank you. Likewise,” Jennifer replied, and when Mulder guided the man into the elevator, she took a quick, hidden look at the card.

A priest? She quickly took out her phone and took a picture of the card before putting it in her pocket, as she always did with business cards.

“Hi, again,” Mulder said as the elevator doors closed, reaching his hand out to her.

“Hi.” Jennifer shook his hand, and when she took back her hand, a feeling came over her. She tried to describe it to herself, but she couldn’t. It was something she never felt before.

“All right then. Let’s do this.” Mulder smiled. “Please follow me.”

Chapter 16 – OostNoordOost

Trinil, The Present

“How far is it?” Bishop asked Mansoer.

“Not too far.” At the end of the museum grounds, Mansoer opened a small iron gate that led to a narrow path of dried mud. “Please be careful. The path from here goes up and can be a bit tricky. If you follow me closely, nothing can happen.” For some ten minutes, the path snaked its way through green bamboo and cane that became denser and denser.

“Ouch,” Lindsey called out as she twisted her ankle and fell to the ground on her knees.

“Are you okay?” both Bishop and Ignatowski asked simultaneously.

“Just a second,” Lindsey replied, trying to stand.

“Here.” Bishop took Lindsey’s hand.

Ignatowski offered to take her other hand.

“Look at you being gentlemen.” She groaned, trying to get up.

“You think you can walk?” Ignatowski asked.

Lindsey took her hands back and put weight on her ankle. “I think so.” She limped a few steps.

“Are you sure?” Mansoer asked. “You want to continue?”

“How far is it now?” Ignatowski informed.

“Only a few depa,” Mansoer laughed as he started walking again.

“Excuse me?” Ignatowski sounded a bit irritated.

“Mansoer makes a joke,” he explained. “A depa is an old Indonesian unit of measurement. It’s about five foot seven, or as we say here in the metric system, one point seven meters. But trust me, we’re almost there.” After the last twenty feet up the steep rise, Mansoer suddenly bent over as he crossed tightly packed green shrubs and walked out into the sunlight.

The others followed him quickly.

“Wow,” Bishop uttered as he walked onto the edge of the platform.

As the others joined him, they all fell silent for a moment. They stood above the land, with green jungle as far as they could see. A narrow, curving river, filled with rapids, disrupted the green oasis. The Solo River originated from two sources: the volcano of Mount Lawu in the west and Mount Kidul in the east. In the past, the river played an essential role in the prosperity of the island, transporting fertile volcanic soil downstream, replenishing the soil of the rice-growing hinterlands.

“Look here on the left,” Mansoer pointed out.

Surrounded by a small picket fence, a marble column held the tile they recognized from the copy in the museum.

“The Dubois monument,” Bishop said.

“Amazing that this sign points to the location of the Pithecanthropus erectus,” Ignatowski said. “Do you know how to read it?”

“We think so,” Mansoer replied. “The ‘P.e.,’ of course you know what that stands for, and the arrow points in the direction of the location. The dates below are the years in which Dubois dug out here.”

“And the one, seven, five, mono?” Lindsey asked, still limping.

“Actually,” Mansoer corrected. “That doesn’t spell mono. It’s one hundred and seventy-five M, for meters. That’s about um, five hundred and seventy-five feet.”

“In the direction of the arrow, I figure?” Bishop asked.

“That we’re not completely sure about. It’s about correct, but when you look at the letters O.N.O., they mean oostnoordoost, which is Dutch for east-northeast or E.N.E.. The arrow, however, doesn’t point exactly in the correct direction. The theory is that the monument was replaced part of this lookout point threatened to break off due to heavy rains, so they moved the monument more to the center, not copying its position carefully. But the east-northeast should be the correct direction. There might only be a few feet difference due to the replacement.”

“Where’s