The Bone Wars, page 9
Entering the darkened warehouse, my eyes adjusted enough to see that Karolin, Dean, and Oliphant were seated at one of Farnsworth’s worktables. Karolin was biting her fingernails and looked like she was about to cry. Dean whispered something to Karolin, patting her back. Sarah stood nearby, typing furiously on her cell phone. Oliphant was leaning against the table, hands in his pockets, watching the BLM move about. I didn’t see Farnsworth anywhere.
But as we approached, Oliphant’s expression turned from relative indifference to clear rage. “Leave the girl alone,” he spat as the BLM guy pushed me forward. He stepped ahead, carefully guiding me closer to Sarah and the others.
“She was in a restricted area,” BLM man replied.
I rubbed my shoulder. “Dude, I was just coming out of my trailer. Where I live.”
The BLM guy chuckled as he walked away toward another BLM agent.
I turned to Sarah. “What is going on?”
“The BLM says we’re digging illegally on government land, not on private land.” She looked confused, and her voice was shaking, the tone of every other word was high or low.
I heard rapid footsteps. Farnsworth stalked toward us, his face bright red.
“The Feds are taking everything, Sarah. They’re taking fossils that have nothing to do with the bone quarry,” he shouted. “What the hell is going on?”
“We are doing it because you, Mr. Farnsworth, have been on our radar for a while now,” the BLM agent interjected. Now that he had removed his sunglasses and wasn’t pushing me around, I got a better look at him. He was tall, almost as tall as Farnsworth. He had broad shoulders with thick, muscular arms. His face was angular, with high cheekbones that were covered in stubble. But his eyes were what caught me. Dark, almost black eyes. His pupils seemed to have streaks of yellow, like a predator.
“Agent Raley,” he introduced himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge of some sort. “We’ve recently been informed that you are digging on public land without the proper permits, Mr. Farnsworth. Given our ongoing investigation into your other activities, we’re shutting you down. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with Uncle Sam.”
“That’s bull. I’ve always followed the law!” As if to prove his point, Farnsworth waved behind him toward a desk with a computer. In response, a BLM staff member walked over and grabbed the computer. “You can’t take that!” Farnsworth shouted.
“Yes, we can take that computer,” Raley said. He reached into his vest pocket and waved a paper in the air, handing it to Farnsworth. Even from where I sat, I could see the words “Warrant” on it.
Farnsworth reached over and grabbed the paper. “Screw this.” He tore up the paper, its pieces floating to the warehouse floor. Calmly, Raley reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white card and handed it to him. “That was your copy. Call this number if you want another one.”
Farnsworth glared at the card and slapped it out of Raley’s hand. “Go to hell.” He turned around, walking toward one of his worktables. He leaned over it, his back rigid and his hands in fists. I jumped as he pounded a fist into his table, the noise loud even over the footsteps and voices of the BLM.
Oliphant turned to Raley. “You said we were ‘digging on public land.’ How do you know where we’ve even been digging?”
“We have photographs, Mr. Oliphant,” Raley replied.
“What photos? And as long as the landowner grants us permission, we have every right to dig on private land. We have the right to not be harassed if we’re following the law.” Glancing at Farnsworth’s back, Oliphant added, “Even he has that right!”
I heard Farnsworth huff, but he didn’t say anything.
Raley stared at him for a long moment, a small smile on his lips. “Well, Mr. Oliphant, let me assure you that you were indeed digging on public land, as evidenced in the photos. Now you and your people are not to revisit the site until all of this is cleared up. Do you understand?” He moved closer, right in front of Oliphant. “If you try, I’ll arrest you on sight.”
“What photos?” Oliphant repeated, matching Raley’s glare.
“Oh no,” Karolin said quietly, slapping a hand over her mouth. “I posted some pictures of the site on Twitter last night.” I saw her bite her lip, her eyes filling with tears.
Raley’s eyes never left Oliphant’s. To Oliphant’s credit, he also didn’t move. Finally, Raley spoke, his voice icy and deadly. “Stay out of our way.” Raley shouldered Oliphant aside and walked toward the front of the warehouse. As he did, he moved his left hand to his pocket, and I saw a dark mark on his wrist, but I couldn’t tell what it was. He pulled out a phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear.
I let out a long, shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding. But then the bay doors of the warehouse screeched and shuttered, and I jumped again.
I thought of the dream again. I thought of the hole, the books, the monsters. Not monsters.
Dragons.
The fossil.
Farnsworth turned at the noise and pointed to the doors. “What are you doing?” he shouted at nobody in particular. Slowly, the large bay doors creaked open, and a huge eighteen-wheeler pulled back into the warehouse. A group of BLM agents flooded into the warehouse around it. They stood around the printout skeleton, glaring at it like it was something dirty or rotten.
“Wait,” Oliphant said, his own voice becoming frantic as we all realized what was happening. His eyes grew wide, and he started toward the printout’s direction. “You can’t take that!”
A nearby woman laughed at Oliphant and shook her head. She took a position between the printout and us.
“It’s not a fossil; it’s not even technically Derek’s. It’s Nakasogi’s!” He pointed to the printout. “That is on loan from Nakasogi Industries. You’re stealing their property.”
“It’s evidence,” Raley called out. “It’s ours.”
I watched as the rear door of the truck opened. Men climbed up and extended a metal plank. From inside the truck, one of them retrieved some type of winch, like he was going to tow away our dragon for having parked next to a hydrant. He sauntered down the gangplank like he was picking up regular old boxes and clicked the hook of the winch to the base the dragon was on.
I heard the whir of the motor before tears flooded my eyes. I was watching our dragon being dragged away from us. Last night, all I could see was a skeleton of an animal that terrorized the skies, something that could tear apart a Tyrannosaurus rex. But now this creature, our Montana Monster, looked sad and lonely as it was dragged up the truck’s ramp. Before I lost sight of its skull, its eye socket reflected the warehouse lighting, and it seemed almost scared. As if it was going to its death. Again.
“They’re taking literally everything I own.”
Farnsworth’s voice made me turn around. His face was buried in his big, rough hands. Sarah put a hand on his shoulder. At her touch, he looked up sharply at a corner of the warehouse, behind the printer. I followed his gaze. I hadn’t noticed it the night before, but there were several big boxes stacked against the back wall, as well as some large pictures or posters.
Farnsworth hissed at us. “I need help. Those boxes contain fossils that don’t belong to me.”
Oliphant scoffed. Farnsworth glared at him but continued on. “The BLM is taking everything. They can’t have those. They’re from other museums, on loan for my museum. Let’s move them into my home.”
“Won’t they look in your house?” Karolin asked.
“Hopefully they’ll need another warrant for that. Go out the emergency back door. Watch for BLM staff, and try to avoid them.” He pointed to another door I hadn’t noticed before. Above it was a dirty “Emergency” sign. Together, we walked to the back of the warehouse. Now that Raley had moved outside, the other BLM staff didn’t seem to care what we were doing.
I immediately grabbed a box labeled Natural History Museum—London. “What is all this?” I asked. The box was way heavier than it looked. I stumbled and looked straight into a large photograph leaning against the wall of the warehouse. It was a portrait of a grizzled, older man.
“Why do you have a giant print of Sir Richard Owen, Derek?” Dean asked, pointing to the portrait. I pulled it closer for a better look. It was an enlarged print of a famous picture of Owen. I’d seen it before, in history books. He was standing in black academic robes, holding a crocodile skull. Sir Richard Owen, the renowned anatomist, and one of the most important paleontologists in recent history. He coined the term Dinosauria. Dinosaurs.
“Should have said this last night, but welcome to the Glasgow Geologic Institute, future site of the Glasgow Museum of Paleontology.”
Confused, I looked around. “This is a museum?”
“Someday, when I have the money,” Farnsworth replied, lifting a box labeled Museum fur Naturkunde.
I frowned. “I thought you liked being a commercial paleontologist?”
Just as Farnsworth opened his mouth, someone dropped something large and metal, and the noise shook us back to reality. We moved quickly and quietly. Dean grabbed the photograph of Owen as well as several other photographs stacked behind it. We headed toward the emergency door and outside.
I followed Farnsworth up his back porch stairs. He stopped to open his door with his keys, and he held the door open for the rest of us.
The inside was dark and dingy. I stepped into what was probably the main living room. The floor was covered with a dark brown shag carpet, and I could see several dark spots in one corner. Yuck. There was an old TV and a paisley couch along the wall under a line of windows covered with green curtains. The walls were covered with fossils or pictures of fossils. Occasionally, hung in between the fossil decorations, were pictures of people. I saw Sarah in a few of them.
“Something about this whole situation doesn’t make sense,” Oliphant said, lowering his box to the ground. He turned to Sarah. “Sarah, walk us through what’s going on.”
“I’m not sure. Our map shows the site is on private land; their maps say its public. Our map is older, and their map is newer. If it does belong to the Feds now, we never saw a clear change in property ownership. It’s all a mess,” she said, shaking her head. “Derek, you double-checked the map with the owner, right?”
Farnsworth leaned against his front door and banged it with his fist. “That doesn’t matter, not anymore. Those jerks are stealing my life.”
“Doesn’t matter? Derek, what are you saying? We didn’t have permission?”
“Look, maps change, you just said so,” his voice rose, and he gestured south out his window. Toward the site of our creature. “At the time, that bone bed was more important. Now the most important thing is the skeleton.”
Oliphant began to clap. “This is why, ladies and gentlemen, we don’t like commercial paleontologists,” he said, sneering. “Cutting corners could mean jail time for you, Sarah, and your team, you pathetic hick.”
Farnsworth stared at him for a long moment, then pushed off the door, moving slowly toward Oliphant. “Our maps say we were on private land. That is what matters,” he growled, baring his teeth. “Call me a pathetic hick again, you piece of—”
“Stop it!” Sarah yelled, and that seemed to snap the two men out of their fight. Farnsworth looked down at his feet, his chest rising and falling quickly. He turned away from the rest of us and placed his hands and head against his front door. Oliphant looked at Farnsworth. His shoulders fell, and he walked over to Farnsworth’s couch. As he sat down, a cloud of dust rose, causing him to cough.
“Okay,” Farnsworth said quietly. The tension in the room dissipated. “We need to make sure that the BLM doesn’t damage the skeleton.”
“What? Derek, they already have the 3D printout. There’s nothing we can do,” Sarah said, her brow furrowed.
“You mean the actual fossil of the Monster,” I said.
Farnsworth looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “The Monster?”
“Yeah. Our dragon is a monster. Our Montana Monster. Since we’re fighting about what to call it, dragon or dinosaur or pterosaur, why don’t we just call it the Monster, so we all know what we’re talking about,” I said.
Farnsworth’s lips curled into a small smile, and his hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “Montana Monster. Yeah, anyway the actual fossil. They could be at the site right now. We have to make sure they don’t ruin everything.”
“But they said they would arrest us if we showed up,” Sarah said.
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Farnsworth said.
“He’s right, Sarah,” Oliphant said.
We all turned to stare at him.
“While I do question your judgment at times, Derek, I have never disputed the fact that you might be right . . . once in a decade,” Oliphant said, shrugging. “Certainly that fossil is too precious to let those dunderheads ruin it.” Oliphant turned and walked out the door. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, I’ll grab my keys. We can take my truck,” said Sarah, following his footsteps. Dean and Karolin moved toward the door.
Farnsworth took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. He put it back on his head, then looked at me. “If you’re coming, kid, you can ride with me. There won’t be any room in Sarah’s truck for all of us.”
Letter between Rev. William Buckland and Mary Anning, 1829
My dear Miss Anning,
Your discovery of a “flying-dragon” is most extraordinary. I will report your find during our Geological Society meeting in a few weeks. I have never heard of another flying reptile found in England. I will send you a copy of my paper as you’ll find a reference to you and your work. I look forward to comparing it to my lithographs of Pterodactylus and seeing if it’s a match.
You did mention previously that you found another arm of a flying dragon nearby—could you send me a drawing soon?
May God grant and keep you,
Yours etc.
Rev. William Buckland
1829
Lost in Montana
Oliphant
Farnsworth, you old fool, I thought to myself as Sarah broke several laws driving at ridiculous speeds down Highway 24 to her quarry site. What did you do to get the government so angry with you that they’d bother raiding your sad little warehouse?
I scanned the surrounding terrain and focused my thoughts. This was the find of the century. No doubt about it. That plastic dinosaur may have been the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And that says something, considering I have an original Cole Morgan at home above my fireplace. Every single cell in my body was screaming that this find was a game-changer. I wanted—no, needed—this dinosaur. Or dinosaur-like creature.
The fact that I was entangled again with Farnsworth, well, wasn’t that just ironic. Forget Derek. Focus on the find.
Sarah said it was a dinosaur. And a pterosaur. I didn’t think what we’d found was either of those animals. This was something brand new. This was a giant, flying carnivorous animal who lived at the time of the dinosaurs. This thing may have hunted one of the greatest dinosaurs to ever live.
In fact, this find would change everything we know about paleontology. This was on the same level as Sir Richard Owen naming the family Dinosauria way back in the 1840s. And if I played my cards right, I’d be playing at that same level.
I just hoped they hadn’t messed up the actual fossil. The BLM was surprisingly competent for a government agency, but there were dolts in every bunch and certainly no shortage of those with no real idea how to handle fossil excavation. I hope they’d left it in the rock. I really didn’t want to have to fix up their mess.
And that warehouse raid was a complete disaster. I needed all of Sarah’s data and fossils, including that amazing 3D printout that was carted away by our lovely government overlords. But no matter. It paid to have friends in high places. As we were leaving Glasgow, I’d sent an email to my BLM contact, an old friend from Yale, asking what the heck Farnsworth did to cause this. He’d replied quickly, and said he’d figure out what was going on and get back to me as soon as possible. I’d get the printout for the University to study by next month at the latest. We’d lose a few weeks, but it would be worth it. After all, it would probably mean no Farnsworth!
We hadn’t been driving that long on a dusty service road when I saw something that made my stomach flip-flop. “Stop the car,” I ordered. “There.” Sarah slowed down her truck, and I rolled down the passenger side window, pulling off my sunglasses and coughing as a cloud of dust flew into my face.
“Down in and around those tire tracks,” I said, pointing. She looked at me and frowned. Below, scattered about the ground were large pieces of a smooth white material. They contrasted sharply with the surrounding sands that were brown and white-yellow. It was plaster-of-Paris, and I could see more even farther up the trail. I had a sinking feeling.
Damn. We were too late.
In the backseat, I heard Dean spout a string of profanities, his voice shaking with anger. “I bet it’s from our bone quarry. It’s gotta be—ours is the only site in the area.”
“And those tracks are fresh, too,” Sarah said quietly. “There was that storm yesterday. Softened the ground. Derek and I always drive along the same tracks to avoid creating new ones. Someone else definitely made those tracks.”
Sarah shifted the truck into gear, and it lurched forward. She moved farther off to the side of the service road. We jumped violently over yucca bushes and uneven topography. She was on the chase. How Farnsworth of her.
“Preservation of evidence?” I said wryly, holding on to my armrests.
“If those jerks . . .” She didn’t finish her thought though.
