The Moses Riddle (Thomas McAllister 'Treasure Hunter' Adventure Book 1) by Hunt Kingsbury Read Free Book Online Page B

time to fieldwork were either independently wealthy or so well-known from their university work that they could gather the financial support necessary to sustain a long series of field projects. It was that kind of notoriety that Thomas had hoped to build, so that someday he would be able to lead fully funded expeditions. Now . . . this option was also closed to him. With the death of both his dreams—the only two things he had ever been passionate about—he fell into a deep depression.
    He tried not to ask himself how much of this he had brought on himself. Yes, others were to blame too, but his own actions demanded scrutiny. Hadn’t he relished being the young maverick? When Brown decided not to retire, hadn’t he played the renegade, pushing the administration, the faculty, and the students? Had he tried too hard to show them all how good a university could be, if only they all would try as hard as he did? Hadn’t that invited jealously? Antagonism?
    Wallowing in his self-made stew of perfectionist’s self-pity, he came to realize that regardless of what happened in the future, his life would never, ever , be as he had planned. Or hoped. This realization was unlike any he’d experienced before. And at an adult level, he felt an innocence slip away, to be replaced by a feeling that it was too early to accurately identify, but that felt a hell of a lot like cynicism.
    The next day, he was in his basement, listening to the best version of “Stormy Monday” that he owned, the one by Muddy Waters, drinking Boodles Gin at one o’clock in the afternoon, when the phone rang. Since he’d quit working, it had rung a lot. People were calling to find out what had happened and to see how he was holding up.
    A half-full highball glass in his left hand, Thomas would never have answered the phone if he still had one of the Marlboro cigarettes he’d been smoking in his right, but he’d just put it out. His brain told him to reach for the lighter but his hand reached for the portable phone and he picked it up and hit TALK before his brain could exert control over his motor functions.
    He glared at the red light on the phone. What a sick little social norm. Ring a bell and sit and wait for someone to answer you. “Hello?”
“Thomas McAlister, please.” It was a man.
Thomas put the phone down and took his time lighting a Marlboro Light. He never smoked and he’d bought the Lights because they were longer. It took him a long time to light it. Finally, he picked up the phone again and said, “Hello?”
“Thomas? Is that you?”
Thomas rolled his eyes. Who the fuck else would it be, he thought. “Yeah.”
“Thomas, it’s Gene. Gene Smith. How are you?”
Thomas had gone to graduate school with Gene. Now, he was a professor at Dartmouth. They had kept in touch over the years, each calling the other for an occasional favor. Gene was always interested in research. He loved libraries, and was always finding old forgotten books and manuscripts. He had recently found some forgotten Egyptian papyrus in the Belgium National Museum in Brussels. Thomas took a sip of his drink, remembering what Gene’s face looked like. He had always liked Gene. He decided not to hang up on him.
“Washington fired me, Gene.”
“ What ? You’re all they had going over there! Shit, Thomas, you’re one of the ten best archeologists alive!”
“Well, you can tell it to Washington, but it still won’t pay the bills . They fired me for teaching the Atlantis Theory.”
“Those close minded SOBs! I’m going to send the whole goddamn Board of Directors a copy of Inherit the Wind .”
Thomas smiled. He’d forgotten about that. He decided to rent Inherit the Wind soon. His life story. “I didn’t even get a trial.”
“Well, if you want a referral at Dart, let me know. Foster, the Dean over here, is good. Not progressive, but fair.”
“Thanks. I’ll pass for now, but thanks. What’s up, you old pedantophile?”
“Do you still have that rare