The Volcano That Changed The World (19 page)

Leaning forward, closing the space between them again, he asked sternly, “Do you even know where Dr. Malloy lives?”

S
till she remained silent, her hair twisting intensified as she looked down, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Can you please answer my question?”
he said, becoming annoyed with her evasiveness.

Continuing t
o look down, she said weakly, “No.”

“
Dr. Malloy is a bachelor and lives alone. If you were lovers, why didn’t you go to his home?” he demanded, even though it was more of a rhetorical question. He’d discovered an obvious flaw in her story.

S
till she remained silent, shaking her head.

He interrupted the questioning and wrote on his notepad. Nothing in particular; h
e just wanted her to stew over her last answer—or non-answer in this case.

He looked up from his notepad.
She was looking at it intently trying to see what he had written. He smiled inwardly and asked, “Are you and Dr. Malloy still seeing each other?”

She knew the
answer to this one and jumped on it, relieved that he moved on. “He’s out of the country. How can we be together?”

“I know
he’s out of the country, but are you still involved? Does he stay in touch with you?” Carter persisted.

“Oh
,” she said, looking to her right. “We broke up and he hasn’t contacted me since then. Right after our breakup, he left for the sunny Greek islands.”

It was exactly what she had told the press.
“Did he break up with you?” Carter asked.

“What do you mean? I
told you we broke up.”

He clarified the question.
“I understand that you broke up. What I’m asking is did he break up with you, did you break up with him, or was it a mutual breakup? Do you understand?”

She nodded
. “He broke up with me. I thought he loved me. I felt so used. He wants nothing to do with the baby.”

Sounding contrived, s
he had used this very same line in the interview that appeared in the
Tallahassee Democrat
. Now Carter wanted more details. That’s when a liar runs into problems, he thought. “Did he break up with you before or after May twenty-first?”

Her eyes widened.
It was clear that she now knew that was the date of the attempted murder. Hesitating, she began, “I…”

Pausing briefly, she completed her sentence
, “I don’t remember.”

“Ms. Taylor, you would not be the first jilted girlfriend to try to murder her lover, especially being pregnant.
The date that an intimate and personal relationship ends is pretty significant for most people and is usually remembered.” Raising his voice, “Are you sure you can’t recall the date? Didn’t Dr. Malloy break up with you before May twenty-first? Isn’t that why you tried to kill him?”

She didn’
t answer; instead she fidgeted nervously in her chair looking down at her lap.

“Ms. Taylor, you do know that lying to an officer conducting a murder investigation is
considered obstruction of justice, punishable by fine and/or jail time?”

She whispered,
“I want a lawyer.”

“That’s probably a good idea
,” Carter said ardently.

It was time to drop the bomb.
“By the way, Ms. Taylor, I plan to obtain the necessary papers to have your baby tested.”

“What do you mean?” There was c
oncern in her voice.

“Have you ever heard of DNA testing
for paternity?” Carter asked with a smile.

She s
tared at him in silence. Finally, she asked, “You mean like what they did with Thomas Jefferson?”

“Exactly.”
He continued, “So, here’s how it’s going to work. If you don’t cooperate with me, then I will treat you as an attempted-murder suspect and I’ll get a court order to test the DNA of your unborn baby. By the way, no one will believe you made love outside on a picnic table when a comfortable bed was available.”

He let that sink it. “
If you cooperate, then you will become a witness in the attempted-murder case, allowing DNA testing of your baby. Either way I will determine your baby’s DNA and whether or not Dr. Malloy is actually the father.”

He paused. L
ooking directly into her eyes, he asked, “Which is it going to be, Ms. Taylor?”

Hiding
her face in her hands, she began weeping. Her words became inaudible.

Carter waited for her
to regain her composure, and then said gently, “I have a few more questions. Can we continue?”

S
he nodded, signifying her willingness to cooperate. She looked utterly defeated.

“For the sake of the tape, Ms. Taylor, I need a verbal response.”

“Yes,” she mumbled, choking back tears.

From
that point forward, according to Carter’s theory, she answered all of his questions honestly, either looking at him directly or to her left. In the end, she agreed to allow for paternity testing, and Carter now knew the identity of her lover, the father of her baby.

Chapter Thirteen

In a sequence of sedimentary rock layers, each layer of rock is older than the layer above it and younger than the layer below it.

—Nicolaus Steno

Crete, July 1998

Ever since the theory of Demetri Papadopulos, Alexia’s father, was accepted by much of the scientific community that Minoan Crete was devastated by a volcanic eruption, a major question remained. What was the size of the tsunami that hit Crete? Many scientists believed it was only fifty feet high, or less.

This height
was supported by findings of a Greek geologist with the Greek Institute of Geology and Mineral Exploration, who, while exploring near the port of Knossos, found an unusual layer—a localized deposit containing volcanic ash, marine species, cattle bones, floor and wall plaster, pumice, and seashells. The only explanation for this jumbled combination of material was a tsunami, a massive and sudden inflow of water that mixed the various materials together and deposited them high up on the ridge as the water receded. The elevation of this marine deposit was about fifty feet above sea level.

In addition
to this discovery, soil samples from other coastal sites in Crete showed sea microorganisms and species at elevations where no known phenomenon other than a tsunami could explain their presence.

Mark suspected that these
sea-species samples and the deposit found by the Greek geologist did not represent the maximum height of the waves, but were in fact deposits associated with the waves as they receded lower down the slopes. He based these suspicions on wave heights estimated on other islands determined from pumice layer elevations and on results from computer models that simulated the dissipation of wave energy away from the source, Santorini. These models had been calibrated using the data from other islands and predicted maximum wave heights at Crete greater than fifty feet.

E
xploring the island for days, Mark searched for tsunami deposits higher in elevation. So far, none had been found. What few deposits had been left behind at the time of the tsunami had been exposed to rainfall erosion for nearly thirty-six hundred years. It was like finding a needle in a haystack, if the deposits still existed.

With his backpack in tow
, and with growing frustration, Mark set about once again to answer the question of the tsunami’s maximum height. Alexia loaned him her truck for the day. After parking along the shoulder of a small back road, he hiked the secluded hills around Heraklion and examined the ground.

To help him navigate, h
e used a new instrument that had just come on the market. It was a consumer hand-held global positioning system—or GPS—which allowed him to find his position to within a ten-foot variance and to determine his elevation to within a one-foot error. He had just ordered it and found the GPS was much easier to use and could determine his location much better than his old Brunton compass, a standard piece of field equipment that relied on the earth’s magnetic field and was currently used by most geologists. He believed his old compass would soon become obsolete, given the new technology.

Mark
also had Alexia’s mobile phone, a new version, smaller than the older models with which he was familiar.

“If you run into any problems,
” she had instructed him, “call my office and I will help you.” She programed her office phone number before handing it over. He didn’t envision needing it, but still took it just in case.

He
now hiked the steep hills that faced the coast, walking in a zigzag pattern, up and down, searching for evidence of the tsunami. He had a knack for locating interesting rocks or other items on the ground, partly because of his training in geology. Plus, growing up in Florida and playing in the woods as a boy, and because the large population of poisonous snakes, he learned to constantly scan the ground, a habit he still practiced.

It was strenuous
work; the sun was bright and the terrain steep. He stopped frequently to drink water from the ample supply in his backpack, which was becoming lighter with each respite.

Once
he kicked a pile of interesting rocks to see what might lie under them. He jumped back when he saw a three-foot snake. He recognized it as a leopard snake by its reddish-brown blotches with black borders that separated the blotches from a grey body. He had read that only four species of snake resided on the island, none dangerous to humans. Still it frightened him.

The leopard snake moved into the shade of one of the
remaining rocks, lying still and watching Mark. It was a good time to stop and rest. He sat and pulled out a mixture of dried fruit and nuts. Eating some, he washed them down with water, all the while studying the snake as it looked at him with oddly intelligent, dark black eyes, all the while flicking its tongue, testing the air.

Mark understood
why snakes fascinated people and were given such prominence in art and stories, especially religious stories like the one about Adam and Eve. Even on this trip, he had seen replicas of the Minoan Snake Goddess Statue that had been found in Crete. With breasts exposed by the scant Minoan dress she wore, the standing, thin-waisted goddess held a snake in each upturned arm. He was told she was the earth goddess, whom of course Mark found appealing given his geology background. Usually snakes were made villainous in art and religion, he thought, but not here—maybe because the ones on Crete were not dangerous to humans.

Following his rest, Mark
bid farewell to the snake and continued his search without success. By midday, he had covered considerable ground with nothing to show for his efforts. It was early afternoon and his stomach, desiring nourishment, made sounds of protest reminding him of a humpback whale song.

He sat on the hillside
among the sparse sunbaked vegetation eating a late lunch of stuffed grape leaves and hard bread. The deli where he ordered the meal told him the stuffing was ground beef and rice seasoned with dill and mint. He squeezed fresh-cut lemon over the rolled leaves, adding even more flavor. Eating with his hands, he thought: Leave it to the Greeks to find another marvelous use of the grape vine.

As he overlooked
the Mediterranean, he imagined the tsunami, as it would have appeared when it approached the shore below, and how it might have climbed the ridge where he now sat.

Between bites, Mark
pulled out his GPS. He practiced taking measurements, making sure he knew how to operate the device. After several attempts, he gained confidence and returned the instrument to his backpack. Based on his readings, he believed he was in the Goldilocks zone; not too high up the ridge, not too low; he was at just the right elevation where he expected to find tsunami evidence, if any existed.

Looking down at the ground
as he munched on his lunch, he noticed he was sitting on a thin layer of soil overlying bedrock, schist, a metamorphic rock. As he raised his gaze, he observed that the hills all looked the same, covered with splotches of short brown grass. But as he scanned the relatively smooth grassy surface of the hill off to his left, a rough patch of chalk-colored ground caught his eye. It looked different than the surrounding hillside.

Stowing
his trash in the backpack, he grabbed the pack and walked over to the anomalous-looking spot. It took up several square yards. Bending over to examine the area more closely, at first he saw nothing unusual because of the weathering of the surficial material. He pulled his rock hammer from his backpack and dug into the ground slightly so he could see below the surface. He was astonished to find several broken pieces of pottery.

Quickly t
aking off his backpack, he dropped to his knees. He noticed numerous rounded light-colored pebbles. The pea-sized pebbles were not schist like the underlying rock. And unlike the angular hill rocks, they were rounded. They had probably once been on a beach, shaped by the constant wave action moving them to and fro, wearing and smoothing one against the other. But they were now high above the sea! To Mark’s surprise, he saw that the pebbles were mixed in with reddish volcanic ash and white sand. His heart leaped into his throat.

He pulled at the
necklace of thick fishing line around his neck, reaching for his hand lens, a powerful magnifying glass that was on the end of the line. Putting the lens to his eye, he examined the sand he held in his palm. As the small grains came into focus, he recognized them immediately. He was looking at foraminifera similar to those found at Jackson Bluff near Tallahassee where he took his students on fieldtrips. Forams, for short, were tiny marine organisms usually found only in a seabed. He also observed coralline algae, another life form found in the sea. This was a marine deposit—and definitely out of place way up here.

The only explanation for
the location of this anomalous mixture high up on the ridge had to be some form of violent, high-energy, water deposition—a tsunami. Could it be? Was this the evidence he was looking for? He felt elated, almost dizzy with excitement. He looked up and yelled, “Eureka!” It sounded corny yet appropriate given that this was a famous exclamation attributed to the Greek mathematician Archimedes. Next Mark needed to determine the elevation of the deposit.

H
e reached into his backpack for the GPS. From the measurements taken while eating lunch nearby, he knew the elevation had to be higher than fifty feet.

I
n his rush to retrieve the GPS, his hand caught the side of his backpack, pulling the device away from his grasp. It hit the ground and began rolling down the steep hill. He immediately leaped, diving for it. With body and arms fully extended, he flew through the air and landed on his stomach with a thud grabbing the GPS just as it was about to roll beyond his reach.

He
quickly turned over on his back and lay there trying to catch his breath, both thanking and cursing his luck. His landing had knocked the wind out of him and bruised his left knee. Checking the instrument for damage, he turned it on. Nothing happened. He knocked it against his other hand and the liquid crystal display came to life with a red glow.

He eased
up slowly, limped back to the deposit, and began taking measurements. He first recorded the coordinates of the location of the deposits and found his location on a topographic map, circling it. His hands shook as he took the next measurement, the elevation. The GPS read, “Satellite connection lost.”

“What the…
?” Mark asked aloud. Just then the screen changed, showing a reading of one hundred three feet above sea level. Raising his hands and sporting a large smile, he did a little dance like Shannon Taylor sometimes did in the end zone after scoring a touchdown. When the dance ended, he said softly, “Eureka.”

H
e finally had geological proof that the ancient tsunami that hit Crete and helped destroy the Minoan culture as a result of the Thera eruption was at least one hundred feet high. That height was greater than most scientists believed, and higher than similar deposits found elsewhere on Crete. He had proof that a megatsunami had indeed hit Crete during the Bronze Age.

He spent the next
few hours taking notes and categorizing his findings, digging more, and photographing his discovery and its surroundings. Taking more GPS readings to confirm his first measurement, he also collected several samples that he hoped to use to date the deposit and confirm the ash as that from Thera. He even explored further up the ridge looking for evidence that the tsunami was even higher. None was found.

By late
afternoon, despite the elation of his significant find, Mark was beginning to feel exhausted from dealing with the steep terrain. He made one final push farther up the ridge in order to reach a plateau where the land was relatively flat. He would take the flat, high way back to the truck.

Looking around
, he saw that much of the area was fenced with rock walls, with and without mortar, likely made from stones cleared over decades from the fields, which were used for grazing. Sheep, plump with thick wool coats, stood and watched in unison as he walked by, their heads tracking his movement.

At one point
, a four-foot tall rock-and-mortar fence blocked his path. He knew that Alexia’s truck lay directly ahead based on the GPS reading, and he certainly didn’t want to go all the way back along the ridge, so he looked for a way around or over the wall. Walking a short distance to his left, he saw a notch in the top of the wall. Below it were three flat stones affixed to the wall in a stair-step fashion. He recognized it as a way over the fence. He stepped up to the top of the fence and on the other side were three more flat stones leading to the ground.

Once over, he
continued walking in the direction of Alexia’s truck. Mark had only walked a short distance across a field when he noticed a figure approaching him.

As the
space between them closed, Mark made out a thin man with grey hair and white stubble on his narrow face. From his attire, he appeared to be a farmer. Mark stiffened when he saw that slung casually in the man’s left arm and pointed toward the ground was a single-barrel shotgun.

When close enough to be heard without shout
ing, the man stopped and said something. Mark did not understand. By the inflection in the man’s voice, Mark could tell it had been a question. Although still pointing at the ground, it appeared to Mark that the barrel was raised slightly, now pointing in his direction. He could see that the wooden stock of the ancient shotgun was well worn, the grey barrel freshly oiled. The man and gun appeared about the same age.