Lost in Translation by Nicole Mones

Author:Nicole Mones
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Legislators - United States, Translators, Asia, Fiction, Young women - China, Young women, Bildungsromane, Legislators, Fiction - General, China, Archaeologists, Peking man, Archaeologists - China, Fathers and daughters, Adventure stories, China - Social life and customs, History, Action & Adventure, Americans - Travel - China, General, China - Antiquities, Americans, Fathers and daughters - United States, Translators - China
ISBN: 9780385319447
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 1999-05-11T07:00:00+00:00

9

It was time for Adam Spencer to admit there was nothing at Shuidonggou. He knew what he was doing: he was a former Leakey Fellow, a full professor, a published scholar of the archaic cultures of western America. But this time he’d been wrong.

Because there was nothing here.

He took his book from his patch pocket and wrote rapidly. One, where did Teilhard put Sinanthropus?

He sighed. He felt lately that this question was strangling him.

Two, he wrote. Whom did he tell about it?

The Mongols, the Mongols, it should have been the Mongols. He sighed and rubbed his chin. It was itchy all the time now, dusty and sticky like the rest of him in this desert sun. There was no wind yet. It would come up later, in the afternoon, as it did every day.

Where did he put it? What clue had they not yet followed?

There was Eren Obo, of course, Spencer thought; the village at the foot of the Helan Shan range. He wrote it down. They could go out there and find the petroglyphs. Though how many monkey sun gods were carved into boulders in the Helan Shan? Dozens? Hundreds?

And could they really obtain permission to cross the missile range, and the mountains, to get to Eren Obo in the first place? According to Kong and Lin it was a godforsaken spot in the most remote western part of Inner Mongolia. Closed to outsiders, because of the military. Closed even to Chinese.

Alice had told him that Kong and Lin were working on it. He had to rely on her; he couldn’t understand a frigging word they said without her. Though he felt he caught the essence of the Chinese men. Kong was a walking flurry, all faxes and phone calls and excited conversations. Lin was quiet, removed.

And Alice. Such a strange woman. Smart as a whip. Would obviously have had some kind of hugely successful career if only she weren’t so held down by her life.

But she was doing a great job. Tonight, for instance, that Mr. Guo she’d hired was supposed to take them to Abel Oort’s grave.

Though it didn’t look like Peking Man was here at Shuidonggou. They’d already found the one thing they’d known to look for—the Mongol homestead—and it was as dead as skittering leaves.

Still, they had the petroglyph. The monkey sun god. Had that been what was in Teilhard’s thoughts, his secret mind? Spencer continued to write. As usual, the act of forming the words, the scratching sound of the ballpoint on the page, made things clearer for him. Eren Obo. That was the next place. They had to get visas for Eren Obo.

"Can’t you whores get anybody who speaks English?" growled the man everyone addressed as Lieutenant Shan. "What am I supposed to do with this foreigner? Eh! Little Wang! Drag your lazy legs back to the base and get pockface Wu! He graduated high school." Shan took another pull on his fat, strong-smelling Chinese cigarette. As he smoked on the other side

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