<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/zB1pHVO.jpg?1)</div>When Jackson is about to reply to his suggestion of a 'deal with the devil' as something of an appropriate allegory, albeit in a teasing way, she hesitates-- of course, this is an urgent matter, and even governments fall on the side of protecting their citizens against dangers when they can.  She's about to explain this, when she sees his eyes look past her, and sees the genuine concern in his face, so she instead watches him as he, in but a moment, helps Sheila to from an obviously agitated state to one more like induced sleep.<br/><br/>Her slim eyebrows knit together ever-so slightly as he returns to the office, and she watches him take the papers from her hand, speechless.<i>"If it is what I think I wouldn't be able to post my findings anyways. I'd be labeled as a fantasist, a plagiarist, a liar, or any one of many things. So, let's see what I can find out."</i>He notices that her breath is a bit faster, her pupils a bit more dilated.  It's all quite simple, and something he's seen before on women in his presence.  But he's certainly not used to an autonomous response being so sudden or obvious from a mature professional-- all just, apparently, from him being within a few inches of her, and handing papers to her up close.<br/><br/>"Very well, Imre.  I'm glad to have your help."  She tilts her face just a bit, casting a glance over her shoulder toward Sheila and then returns her gaze to his eyes.  "<i>Quite</i>glad, actually.  And I'm very interested to hear what<i>it</i>is', if<i>it</i>is what you think.  You might be surprised at how accepting I can be of... emerging theories."<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Within an hour, they are at the Regional Airport, where a chartered Cessna is waiting for them.  The car rental attendant is shocked to see her back so quickly-- and asks at first if there was a problem with the car.  Jackson, walking at a brisk pace, smiles and waves him off quickly.  "No, thanks, just a pop-in, pop-out!" and they are able to quickly screen through security with their charter papers and IDs... although there's a brief delay as Jackson pulls the TSA officials aside and insists on a non-x-ray security check 'for medical reasons,' providing some official-seeming paperwork as she explains.<br/><br/>During the drive, she's already discussed with Imre that all of this would have been faster, and certainly less expensive, if conducted via Skype, but she had wanted to see his reaction first-hand.  She provides him with a file-folder of photographs, depicting a variety of landforms not altogether uncommon in the New Mexico desert, Pueblo archaeological sites, and markings, as well as an attached series of reports.  There are more inscriptions, including rubbings, digital photographs, and sketches, even a map-- clearly marked are a few spots in the northeast of the state, a few specks in the desert, and a square near one corner of White Sands national monument.<br/><br/>The reports detail findings from a dig overseen by the AIA, UC, and UNM, dating from as far back as 2009.  The reports indicate typical findings for the Anasazi sites of the region, but around 2012 a high concentration of skeletal remains was discovered, showing evidence of violence and dismemberment.  Among them, and from the surrounding areas, came additional findings and graphical depictions of a kiva underground-sanctuary made by a god or diety that hadn't been referenced before-- something portrayed as a black flower with a woman-like shape in the middle.  Something so specific and without tie to a specific natural function didn't fit the plethora of gods that modern scholars knew.<br/><br/>And the latest addition, in back of the other reports and photos, is a dispatch, heavily redacted, indicating unexplained disappearances of over two dozen civilians and a half-dozen military personnel in and around White Sands Airforce Base.<br/><br/>In Albuquerque, her car is waiting at the airport garage, sitting in the cool shade as the heat-striations snake through the air around them over clay-colored land and blocks and blocks of city-scape.  She's eager to answer any question he has along the way, and it will be a bit of a drive, she has explained, to reach the dig site.  "A few hours, at least.  Hungry at all?  Thirsty?  Any of that?"  Her car, a full-sized SUV, requires an elfish little hop from the redhead to pop her way into the driver's seat.  "I know a nice roadside stand that sells<i>really</i>good pozole," and the word almost sounds ridiculous with her Scottish accent it around.<br/><br/>((I recognize that was quite a bit, but... moving us on may require a lot of downtime... and I figured you'd have specific questions to fill in about the contents, or you can add/improvise anything you like.))