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“Government lawyers. They didn’t like the entry I posted last night.” He grinned. “It was awesome. I called it ‘Death Parks: Fact or Fiction?’ They say I’m causing irreparable damage to the reputation of the national parks and inciting panic.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard from Tin Man,” Riley said. “Shocking that he didn’t sneak into your RV and whack your laptop with his hatchet.”
Emerson looked over at her. “I suspect you made your statement in jest, and while it was a humorous thing to say, there is an underlying element of perhaps.”
“Perhaps what?” Riley asked.
“Vernon’s blog goes out at midnight. Two hours later someone inserted a hatchet into the hood of your car. Perhaps it was Tin Man. Think about it.”
“Okay, I might consider the possibility of a connection, but why me?” Riley said. “I didn’t write the stupid blog.”
“Perhaps he decided you were a good target,” Emerson said. “You separated yourself from the pack.”
“Yeah, and it would have been a bitch to stick a hatchet in the Maybach,” Vernon said. “That thing’s built like a tank.”
“I need to report the hatcheting to the police,” Riley said. “My insurance company is going to want a police report.”
“Waste of time,” Emerson said. “I’ll trade this car for your Mini. I can use the Mini for a lawn ornament. I like the addition of the hatchet.”
“I have destroyed the greedy pigs’ defenses,” Wayan Bagus said. “I have secured the survival of the angry birds.”
“That’s good, Little Buddy,” Vernon said. “Let’s see what you do when I bump you up a level.”
“Child’s play,” Wayan Bagus said. “I am the master of this game.”
Thirty minutes later Riley pulled into the Exploratory Hall parking lot at George Mason. A large, modern-looking brick building with a wetlands area behind it and a greenhouse on the roof, Exploratory Hall housed the Department of Atmospheric, Oceanic, and Earth Sciences.
Wayan set his iPad aside and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Am I to be the Dalai Lama today?” he asked.
“It’s not in my game plan,” Emerson said, leading everyone across the parking lot and into the building.
Vernon looked around. “I always knew some day I’d get to college…and here I am.”
“It’s vastly overrated,” Emerson said, stopping at the elevator, tapping the UP button. “It’s far better to be born rich.”
“Contentment is the greatest wealth,” Wayan Bag
us said. “It is better to be born contented.”
“Do we know where we’re going?” Riley asked.
“I want to talk to Professor Marion White,” Emerson said. “She’s on the third floor, and she’s currently having office hours.”
—
Marion White was at her desk when Emerson knocked on her open door. She was in her midthirties with dark brown hair pulled back and tied at the nape of her neck. A sliver of red tank top peeked out from under the deep V-neck of her white lab coat. The tank top showed a couple inches of cleavage.
“Do you have a moment to talk?” Emerson asked. “I have some questions about mantle plumes.”
“I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” Marion said, and she gestured toward some chairs surrounding her desk.
Her office was small and filled with books, papers, and various lava rocks. Scaled-down models of volcanoes covered a folding table set against one of the walls. Charts and maps and whiteboards covered most of the wall space.
Riley, Wayan Bagus, Vernon, and Emerson carefully walked around the stacks of books and took a seat.
“There are only seventeen known mantle plumes in the whole world,” Marion said. “It’s really one of the more interesting fields of study in geophysics.”
Emerson pulled Plumes: A Journey out of his knapsack. “I’ve read through this book. But it doesn’t completely explain the differences between volcanoes formed from mantle plumes and volcanoes formed by plate tectonics.”
