Free The Bones of Grace by Tahmima Anam

went on, in the manner of a hazing ritual: ‘Her secrets lie within her bones: her hips, her protected inner ear that allows her to hear underwater, the length of her femur. These are the clues that will tell us who she is, so long a mystery beyond the reach of science.’
    My face burned. ‘Seriously, though. I thought this area was strictly off limits.’
    Bart flung my application back into the folder. Then he pulled a tin box out of his pocket and selected a heart-shaped sheet of betel. ‘You know countries like this,’ he said, folding the betel leaf into a triangular packet and popping it into his mouth. ‘You gotta find ways to get around.’
    â€˜Bart’s been working on it 24/7,’ Jimmy said.
    The professor pulled at his scalp. ‘Got the greys to prove it.’ He chewed in silence for a minute, then said, ‘You have to keep everything in balance.’
    I waited to see if he would explain. ‘You describe Ambulocetus beautifully,’ Zamzam said to me.
    My eyes started tearing again and I rubbed them roughly, wishing I’d never taken liberties with the whale’s story. ‘My parents didn’t want me to come,’ I said, my voice unnecessarily loud. ‘They said it was too dangerous.’
    â€˜Danger is relative,’ Jimmy said.
    â€˜No one wants their kid to grow up and hunt fossils,’ Bart said.
    â€˜Your parents have nothing to worry about,’ Zamzam said. ‘I can assure you.’
    â€˜Anyway,’ Bart said, ‘we have our secret weapon.’ He fanned out his fingers behind his head and gave me a broad smile, displaying his betel-stained teeth. Then he closed his eyes and appeared to dismiss us. I didn’t ask him again how he’d received all the right permits and approvals, how he’d gotten the blessing of the local tribesmen, and he wouldn’t have told me anyway, that he had made a set of agreements that were held in place through a careful balance of bets and payments. He would have considered it an acceptable procedure; after all, according to him, in countries like these, some transfer of human life would be unsurprising, a kind of ransom to which we would all be subject, and lines had to be crossed to get at the treasure beneath our feet.

    Jimmy showed me around the rest of camp. The tents were arranged in a semicircle around a central area that served as an open kitchen. Bart and I were each given our own tent, and Jimmy and Zamzam were sharing. There was a cook, a driver, a pair of guards, and a few local men whohad been recruited to help us to break through the dense red shale. When our predecessors had mined this area, the bones they had found were encased in layers of red-bed sequence that were as hard as cement. If we wanted to get a complete specimen out of the ground, we would have to first quarry the area with our tools and then blast through the rock with explosives. Zamzam was in charge of the dynamite, which he kept buried in a tin trunk on the southern edge of the site.
    Later, after I’d eaten another round of curry and stone bread, I ran into Zamzam outside the makeshift toilet. He was holding an empty can of water. The evening was cool and quiet. I had taken an antihistamine and I was feeling slightly better.
    â€˜Have you seen Stupendemys geographicus ?’ he asked.
    I felt myself light up. ‘Just a few days ago. You know it?’
    â€˜Only photographs. How fortunate you are to have seen it for yourself.’
    He was right, I was lucky: I had walked the hallways of Wilson and Gould, seen Kronosaurus and Stupendemys and the Glass Flowers. Held hands with you. I wondered what had motivated him. ‘What made you come?’ I asked.
    â€˜My father thought it was a terrible idea.’
    I smiled. ‘Tell me about it.’
    â€˜Some other time, perhaps.’
    He darted away and I looked back to see him walking at a fast pace towards his tent, the night