Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (epub e ink reader TXT) 📕

and pointed up the steep hill. “All right, how do we get up there?”

“No worries,” Mansoer answered. “Just follow me.” He followed the riverbank, and after a few minutes, they arrived at a steep staircase dug out of the muddy hill, reinforced with lava stones. “Here we are.”

The three looked up the steep, narrow staircase.

“That must be about eighty degrees,” Ignatowski guessed.

“No problem. From here, it’s easy.” Mansoer walked up the first steps. “There’s no handrail. Just don’t look down or lean back to much, and you should be fine.”

“After you,” Ignatowski gestured Bishop.

“I think you should go first,” Bishop suggested to Lindsey. “If something were to happen, we could assist you, and if we fall, we won’t take you with us on the way down.”

“That’s very gallant of you,” Lindsey replied.

“Are you coming?” Mansoer called down from the halfway point.

Lindsey took the first stairs, quickly followed by Bishop and Ignatowski. “Just look in front of you and keep going,” Mansoer yelled with actual fun in his voice.

“Damn,” Ignatowski suddenly called out as a chunk of lava rock brushed his shoulder as it passed him on the way down.

“Sorry,” Lindsey called out loud. “My bad.”

“You wanted to go last,” Bishop chuckled.

“Here.” Mansoer stretched out his arm. Lindsey took it, and he helped her over the edge.

Bishop and Ignatowski quickly followed.

“This may sound strange, but going down is much scarier.” Mansoer grinned. “Dubois’s dig number 31B.” He spread his arms over the top of the island that was covered in low shrubs, and in the center, interrupted by a square hole about fifty feet wide, seventy feet long and twenty-five feet deep. Three sides of the hole ran straight down, while one, long side was carved out in layers that looked like a giant staircase with huge steps.

“About one hundred twenty years ago, a group of at least ten slaves were scraping off layers of soil, inch by inch, sifting through the mud, looking for fossils. It took them two and a half years to dig this hole, and this was only one of the many digs Dubois managed in Trinil.”

“But this was the only one on the island?” Bishop asked.

Mansoer nodded.

“Damn.”

“What is it?” Lindsey asked.

Bishop didn’t hear her. He put a shovel over his shoulder and went on his way, circling the hole, inspecting every inch of it.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lindsey asked.

“I think I know,” Ignatowski replied.

“What’s that?” Lindsey asked.

“What do you see?” Ignatowski asked.

“Shrubs and a hole—a big hole.”

“Indeed. So, what are we looking for here? There are no hidden places, no stones to turn or messages to read. There’s literally nothing here. And I think your friend knows it.”

Lindsey rubbed her eyes. “I hate to say it, but I’m afraid you’re right.”

“Damn, damn, damn.” It sounded loud from the other side of the hole, where Bishop kicked a rock into the pit.

“I think he knows now,” Ignatowski concluded.

When Bishop returned along the other side of the hole, now and then, he turned a stone or dug a few spades of mud and clay, grumbling.

“There’s nothing here,” Bishop muttered as he joined the others again.

“I told you so.” Mansoer took a step back when Bishop waved his shovel in the air and drove it into the ground in front of him.

“What did you expect to find?” Lindsey asked.

“I don’t know,” Bishop replied. “A hint of some kind to whatever happened to Jennifer. I told you I’m convinced her disappearance is connected to your missing, isolated tribes.”

“Like the Baduy,” Mansoer added.

“What?” Bishop snapped.

“The Baduy,” Mansoer repeated. “You talk about isolated tribes. Here on Java, we have the Baduy.”

“What’s the Baduy?” Lindsey asked.

“The Baduy are an ancient people living here on Java in the mountains on the west side of the island.”

Bishop’s eyes sparkled. He looked at Ignatowski. “Did you know this?”

“Sure,” Ignatowski replied.

“Then why didn’t you tell us?” Bishop asked.

“Technically, the Baduy don’t belong on the list of isolated tribes, so they aren’t on the NRO’s watchlist.”

“Why not?” Lindsey asked.

“Well, I guess you can compare the Baduy to the Amish in the U.S. They live in their own way, but they know about the outside world and even have contact and do business outside of their own. So....”

“That’s a common misunderstanding,” Mansoer interrupted. “There are two subgroups of Baduy: the Baduy Dalam and the Baduy Luar, the inner and outer Baduy. The Baduy Luar had some contact in the past with foreigners, but are said to have retracted themselves again for over a decade now. The Baduy Dalam never had any contact with outsiders as far as we know. Just ask Mansoer.”

“Who here works in intelligence?” Bishop asked, smiling while scratching his head. “And do you know where we can find this Baduy Dalam?” he addressed Mansoer.

“Not exactly,” he answered. “But I might know some people who do, though I don’t think you’re welcome over there.”

Bishop looked at Lindsey and Ignatowski, tilting his head.

Ignatowski shrugged his shoulders.

“Since we’re here,” Lindsey pointed out.

Chapter 17 – Chemoreception

New Haven, CT, Four Months Ago

A long, white hallway separated a series of rooms behind glass, with names on the doors like “Genetics Diagnostic Laboratory,” “Genetics Diagnostic Testing” and “DNA Analysis.” Jennifer was amazed at the number of people in white lab coats working for a company like Logynous.

“Impressed?” Mulder asked, watching Jennifer’s face.

“Surprised, I would call it.”

“You’re surprised how a tech company like Logynous has so much invested in a laboratory.”

“More like, why?”

“I understand.” He stopped at the end of the hallway. “Please, go on in and take a seat,” he said pointing into a small conference room. “I’ll explain everything.”

Jennifer stepped into the conference room, seeing an oval table surrounded by ten seats. The brown papered walls were covered with colorful sticky notes. A large LED screen filled the wall at the end of the table. “Sit anywhere?” Jennifer asked.

“Anywhere you can watch the screen.”

Jennifer walked in and glanced at the sticky notes on the walls. Most of them were filled with chemical formulas and abbreviations she had never seen before.

“Don’t mind the