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she turned away, changed into a loose caftan, and took a copy of Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula over to a side-sofa to read, out of range of the TV screen.

      She had marked her place with the wrapper of a Hershey bar.

      With a part of her mind, Kylie was aware of a commercial on television for the local Hedge’s Beer. It’s slimming, it’s trimming – get a Hedge against inflation. A news bulletin followed.

      Absorbed in her reading, she hardly took it in until Larry yelled from the balcony: ‘Bernie Clift!’

      There was Clift’s face on the screen.

      Against library pictures of desert, the announcer was speaking. ‘The scientific world – or at least that part of it meeting yesterday at a conference in Houston – was in uproar over a statement made by famous palaeontologist, Bernard Cliff. Cliff claims he has discovered a race of human-like beings who lived millions of years before the Stone Age, in the time of Ally Oop.’

      Clift was seen at a microphone, brushing back a lock of hair from his forehead and speaking above a hubbub. ‘On the evidence of a pair of graves in Utah we cannot generalize too freely. But the workmanship of the coffins, which is surprisingly modern in technique, suggests a high degree of culture. Dating methods indicate beyond doubt a date of some 65.5 million years ago. This clearly places the coffins and the bodies they contain back at a period when the tyrannosaur and other giant dinosaurs were still roving the continents.’

      The clip ended. Back came the announcer, saying, ‘Later, Cliff revealed that a preliminary analysis of the two fossilized bodies indicates strong shoulder development with much enlarged shoulder blades. Which leads to the hypothesis that Cliff’s new discoveries could possibly have evolved from a flighted species, such as the pterodactyl or pteranodon. As shown in this artist’s impression.’

      Over the sketch, his voice continued, ‘A natural wave of scepticism greeted the Utah announcement …’ By this time, Larry and Kylie were arm in arm before the TV set, exclaiming in excitement.

      ‘Scepticism!’ Larry exclaimed. ‘What else?’

      ‘… and it’s not from the Bible Belt only that these protests have come. Within the last hour, Professor Danny Hudson of the Smithsonian Institute has issued a challenge to Bernard Cliff to put up or shut up. He is reported as saying he expects the evidence to become available to quote unbiased scientific examination unquote.’

      Mina’s face appeared on the screen.

      She was in mid-spate. This was evidently an excerpt from a longer interview in Clift’s defence. She had time to say only, ‘They all laughed at Christopher Columbus, remember? Columbus thought the world was round, the idiot.’

      She laughed and was faded. The station announcer reappeared.

      ‘Professor Cliff is unavailable for further comment. That was attractive green-eyed 46-year-old Mina Legrand, close associate and intimate friend of legendary Joe Bodenland, who once claimed he had gone back in time to shake hands with Frankenstein. Bodenland now heads the multi-national Bodenland Enterprises.

      ‘Our sources report that Bodenland himself is missing. Mina Legrand could not comment, beyond stating Bodenland was interested in the amazing new discovery. Meantime, let’s hope all those Utah critters are well and truly extinct …’

      ‘Oh God …’ Kylie switched off the power before the commercials popped up, and turned to Larry.

      He set down his half-empty glass.

      ‘You were right all along, sweetie. Something is wrong. My father needs me. We’re going to have to catch the next plane.’

      ‘Oh, no, Larry. Your father has to look after himself, just as you say he always made you look after yourself. You’re only going to lay yourself open to a snub if you interfere now. He’ll be okay. Joe’ll be okay. Let’s go back to the beach.’

      ‘Jesus!’ He waved his hands above his head. ‘Who just now wanted to get off the beach? Women – I’ll never understand them. Pack, Kylie. We’re off. Utah. That’s where Joe’ll be. Old John.’

      She blocked his way to the bedroom, angry and pugnacious.

      ‘I’m not going back to Old John. Nor are you. Screw Old John. Think, will you? You are married to me. You are no longer going to live under your father’s shadow. I love the old boy, but he is going to ruin your life if you are weak. Can’t you understand that? Everyone else does.’

      ‘Weak, am I? We’ll see about that.’ He grabbed her wrist and twisted her round until she sank to the ground. ‘Baby, I’m all action when I get going, and I’m going right now.’

      As he ran into the bedroom, Kylie got to her knees and shouted, ‘Buster, if you go you’re gone for good, get that? Your parents have already loused up our honeymoon once. I’m not having it again. Ring your mother if you’re so anxious about your father. But if you leave this hotel, you leave it on your own, and our marriage is a dead duck.’

      Striding by her with a hastily packed overnight bag, he stared at her bitterly, and made a threatening gesture.

      ‘“Goodbye was all he wrote”,’ he said. The suite door slammed behind him.

      Kylie walked about the suite for a while. She went into the bedroom and collected up all of her husband’s clothes from the cupboards and elsewhere, stuffing them into his travel case. When she had cleared the room of his belongings, she took the case to the window and flung it out into the gardens below.

      She stripped down until she wore nothing but her crucifix, whereupon she took a shower. After that, she sat in her caftan and attempted to read Dracula for a while. But her mind was elsewhere.

      When the time came, she put on a cocktail dress in which to go down to dinner. In the Bradford’s outdoor restaurant, she ate a lobster thermidor and drank half a bottle of white Australian wine.

      Thus fortified, she went into the ballroom, where a blond-haired young man on vacation from Alaska immediately asked her to dance.

      She did dance.

       4

      In the night that enveloped Utah, Larry was half-drunk. ‘This chopper’s easier to fly ’n one of my model planes,’ he called to Bodenland.

      Neither Bodenland nor Clift made any response, if they heard.

      ‘I’ve got a World War Two Boeing I just made,’ Larry shouted. ‘A beauty. Fifteen feet wing-span. You should see it. Goes faster than the real thing!’ He roared with laughter.

      Beneath them went the rushing phantom of the ghost train, its eerie luminance shining from the roof as from its sides.

      Bodenland lowered himself cautiously, with Bernard Clift just behind, his boots almost touching Bodenland’s helmeted head. When Bodenland gave the Thumbs Up signal, Larry switched on the improvised inertial beam. It shone down, vividly blue, encompassing the two men and the top of the train. From Larry’s careering viewpoint, they disappeared.

      ‘You’ve gone!’ he yelled to the rushing air. ‘Gone! The invisible men … That’s you and Kylie – both gone!’ The train was getting away from him. Cursing, he tried to kick more power from the labouring engines, but it was not there.

      The train pulled away ahead, and he gave up trying. When he switched off the inertial beam, the wire rope was empty. Bodenland and Clift had indeed gone. He wound in the rope.

      Larry’s feelings were mixed. He had had no opportunity to say anything about the quarrel with Kylie. His father had been too absorbed in this venture. His arrival had been taken for granted, to Larry’s mixed relief and disappointment. He had found Old John surrounded by vehicles and uniformed personnel from Bodenland Enterprises. The students were gone. Now the site of the two graves more resembled

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