Pandora's Curse - v4 by Jack du Brul Read Free Book Online Page A

submersible
Mir
to visit his old ship, the USS
Yorktown,
which was sunk during the Battle of Midway.
    “The Surveyor’s Society is a labor of love to most of us. Of course we have paid staff to maintain our collections, produce the magazine, and all that, but the actual members are here because we have an interest in exploration and have the money or influence to buy our way in.”
    “No offense, Charlie, but I didn’t think you fit into the billionaire category.”
    Bryce laughed. “Too true. Actually, Susan’s grandfather spent his family’s fortune tramping around South America looking for the
El Dorado
treasure before World War Two. He didn’t find anything, of course, but his work garnered him an invitation to join. He brought me on board mostly because I’d begged him for years and also because of my banking connections.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve recommended you because you actually are an explorer, something the club is sorely lacking.”
    “I want you to understand what this means to me. I know the caliber of people who’ve been members, and I never thought I would be considered. But I’m not an explorer. I’m a mining engineer.”
    “You’re being modest, Mercer. That mine you discovered in Eritrea would be reason enough to bring you in, but your reputation has more than qualified you. I read in the
Time
profile on you that accompanied the story that the value of the minerals you’ve found since you became a prospector-for-hire is around four billion dollars and your fees total three percent of that number.”
    “Consulting geologist, please,” Mercer laughed. Secretly, he admitted Charlie’s description better defined what he did. “And both figures were grossly inflated.”
    “No matter. Your work has helped our understanding of the planet and our ability to use its resources more than any geologist since Alfred Wegener first proposed the continental drift theory.”
    “Does all this flattery mean I don’t have to pony up membership dues?”
    “Afraid not. However, your dues entitle you to a room here at the club five nights a year, use of our dining room for private functions, and of course a seat for our weekly lunches, provided you tell the staff a week before you come. Our new chef was stolen from the hotel Georges V in Paris and makes the best chateaubriand you will ever taste. I think, though, just being a member is what most interests you.”
    Mercer didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The golden age of exploration and discovery was long gone. It was part of a bygone era, much like the Society itself. And yet to be invited to join, to be a part of the organization that had helped open up so many frontiers, was an honor that Mercer couldn’t refuse. His education and work entitled him to a string of initials after his name if he so chose, but the prestigious MSS — Member Surveyor’s Society — was a title he’d coveted since first reading their magazine as a boy. Much to his irritation, a great deal of his work now took place in front of a computer rather than in the field. The invitation was a way for him to reconnect with the pioneers of his profession. He broke himself from his silent musings. “There’s that, and I want to find out if some of the rumors are true about parts of your collection.”
    “Ah, the rumors.”
    Speculation about the Society’s secrets had run rampant for generations. Because of its private status and the powerful people who’d always run it, many believed it had become a repository for a great many unsettling discoveries. Some said they had a portion of Amelia Earhart’s Lockheed Electra and others believed the Great Mogul Throne from India was here. He’d heard of a group who believed the Society’s vault contained definitive proof of pre-Columbian exploration by Phoenician explorers. And another who said they owned a portion of the True Cross.
    The Internet had served to accelerate the pace of conjecture. A year ago, a