he said; but they were slightly too big for him. He leaned forward so that Natalie Nelson could take her share of meat. As she helped herself, she listened to Eleanor Deacon. As did everyone else.
A white Kenyan by birth, Eleanor Deacon was probably the most well-known paleontologist in the world. She had been excavating in and around Kihara Gorge for nearly forty years, first with her husband, Jock, and then, since his death six years ago, leading the digs herself, though her sons Christopher and Jack were following in their parents’ footsteps. Eleanor Deacon was thin, tall, and bony, and her silver—almost white—hair, brushed back as always in a chignon, gave her a remarkably sophisticated air, especially stuck out here in the bush, as they were in Kihara. But she was formidable too, and ran her excavations with an iron rod. She wore no jewelry, but tonight she was dressed in a crisp white shirt above khaki trousers, with a bright yellow scarf tied around her throat. A pair of gold-rimmed, half-moon spectacles glittered on her nose. Natalie thought the director looked more French than Kenyan.
Eleanor sat at the end of the long table, where she was always served last. She took a few strips of kudu, then leaned back, so that Mutevu could withdraw the serving plate. Leaning forward again, she picked up her knife and tapped her champagne glass with it. The chatter around the table died.
She smiled at all the others, one by one, and held up some envelopes. “Post,” she announced. “Russell, there’s one for you, one for Kees, and three for Richard.” She handed them around. “Nothing for you, Arnold, I’m afraid.”
“None of my wives missing me? Oh dear.” He made a face, before grinning.
Because he was sitting next to Natalie, she had already learned from Arnold Pryce, a botanist, that he had been married four times. And as often divorced. Though small and round he was, in his way, a bit of a dandy. Tonight he was wearing a cravat at his throat with a college design on it, shields and unicorns. She was also aware of some pungent aftershave.
Beyond him was Kees van Schelde, a Dutch geologist, probably in his twenties, and Jonas Jefferson, a specialist in human anatomy and the camp doctor. So far as Natalie could see, he was more or less Eleanor’s age.
Christopher Deacon, Eleanor’s son, sat at the far end of the table. Among other things, Natalie had learned that he was the excavation’s photographer.
“As I think you all know, Natalie Nelson—who picked up the post for us in Nairobi—is the latest addition to our team.” Eleanor nodded to Natalie. “Natalie is a paleozoologist, a specialist on extinct forms of vertebrate life, who did her Ph.D. under Frank Whittard. I expect she’s going to flake out at any minute, because she came directly from Cambridge in one day, but I want to welcome her formally to Kihara, and to tell her that her timing couldn’t be better … because I also want to offer a toast to Daniel.” She raised her glass. “Daniel, what would we do without you—Daniel, the lion of the gorge!”
Around the table, glasses were raised.
“Daniel!” they chorused. Someone did an imitation of a lion’s roar and they all laughed.
For his part, Daniel Mutumbu didn’t touch his drink. He was the only black paleontologist on the team and didn’t really like champagne, or alcohol in general, come to that. But he smiled back at them.
Eleanor turned to Natalie. “Normally, my dear, alcohol isn’t allowed here in Kihara.” She smiled. “But I suppose everyone knows I keep a few bottles of champagne handy for when we have something to celebrate—and we certainly have something to celebrate tonight.”
She waited for the hubbub to die down. Two bottles between ten didn’t go very far but it was enough to loosen tongues.
“Daniel, and Richard here, Richard Sutton, whom you will get to know, and Russell, Russell North … well, they made a discovery in the gorge today, an important discovery, a spectacular discovery—at least we think it is. They found a knee joint, a tibia and a femur, two leg bones of a hominid at a level which indicates that this early form of mankind walked upright here, right here, in Kihara, two million years ago. Early man left the trees and raised himself up on two legs in this very gorge.”
“Yesss,” hissed Richard Sutton. He was thin, spare, fair-haired, handsome, Natalie thought. From what had been said earlier,