Chapter Four
Harvard University
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Nate silently waited, his confidence waning.
He had pitched his proposal and now he was waiting for the feedback.
The three faculty members he was addressing had listened stoically, scribbling notes as he presented his case.
Professor Keith Rogers, his major professor and advisor, had absorbed what he was saying, although none of it was news to him.
Nate had worked hand in hand with him over the last several months and had shared his idea for his dissertation from the beginning. Rogers had been generally supportive.
Today he wasn’t so sure that was the case, and the other two committee members seemed less than enthused by his proposal.
He expected Rogers would back him up but that it would still be a difficult battle if there was resistance, considering that the head of the department, Dr. Roberta Martinez, was on the committee.
It was now Nate’s turn to sit stoically and await the onslaught of criticism.
Finally, Dr. Martinez broke the silence.
“It is a very interesting proposal, Mr. Wilde,” she said genuinely.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“The question of a trade station on the Incense Route that allowed for the existence of a more direct path through the Empty Quarter is something that has been speculated for over a century. However, I am curious as to why you think this is an issue that can be solved now, particularly when so many others before you have attempted to do so without success.”
Nate cleared his throat. “Well, there is consistent evidence brought forth by Philby, Thomas, Thesiger, and O’Shea that appears to support claims made in historical texts including the Qur’an, Kitāb al-’Ibar, and Arabian folklore.
Additionally, we can’t discount the validity of oral traditions passed down by the Bedouin tribes in the region.
As is often the case, most legends are grounded in fact. ”
“Correct,” Dr. Melvin Bradley, the third member of the panel and by far Nate’s biggest detractor, said in a tone laced with arrogance. “However, many of those legends have been laid to rest with the discovery of a major trade depot in Shisr, Oman. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Nate stared back with a neutral expression.
He hated the man. Dr. Bradley was a smug, petty little man who seemed to relish handing out poor grades and was known to brag about low passing rates in his courses.
He was the dark side of tenure, a parasitic infection in the anthropology department that invaded the host and made it weaker. Nate forced a professional composure.
“I would say that the city in Oman is a significant find that demonstrates the importance and opulence of major trading posts along the ancient frankincense trail. However, that discovery and the prospect of an additional city of wealth deeper in the Rub’ al Khali are not mutually exclusive.
If anything, the Shisr discovery lends credence to a more robust trade infrastructure in the region. ”
Nate glanced over at Rogers, waiting for his lead advisor to swoop in and back him up.
At this point in the examination, Nate had introduced his topic, reviewed his resources and methodology, laid out the results of his preliminary research and their implications, and had offered a valid explanation on how his further research would contribute to the field.
Rogers had heard his pitch before and approved it.
But Rogers wasn’t tenured yet, and it seemed that he was willing to cave to the department head and the weasel of a man in front of him rather than stick up for his student.
So be it, Nate thought. He’d take them all on.
“I would agree,” Martinez interceded. “But how has your research provided any additional evidence that isn’t anecdotal? Certainly, the writings of explorers past are well documented and have been well-known for decades. What do you have to add that is new and justifies going down this path?”
The question was always going to come up, and a lot hinged on how the panel received his answer.
The truth was twofold. The first half was something he had learned as his ODA’s intelligence sergeant.
As the man on the ground, he had a deeper understanding and greater situational awareness than an analyst thousands of miles away.
It gave him an edge and allowed him to make connections that otherwise would have gone undiscovered.
This situation was very much the same. There was certainly a great amount of evidence, and most had already been studied in depth.
But he didn’t feel that anyone had, as of yet, pulled it all together effectively.
It was a lot like a puzzle that lay in pieces.
Only by fitting the pieces together correctly did the whole picture emerge.
And the additional pieces were the second half of the truth.
“While many people have examined this issue in depth, I believe they have not done so through the proper lens, and perhaps without all the pieces of the puzzle,” he answered.
“You refer to your interaction with the Saudi military officer?” Bradley sneered. “That is thirdhand, circumstantial evidence at best. It’s not something to base an entire dissertation’s research on.”
Nate felt himself flush, the anger rising in him.
In the Special Forces, talking to another man with disrespect came with consequences, and it was a good way to get yourself hit in the mouth.
Conversely, once you earned a man’s respect, there was no being talked down to.
He reminded himself that this was a different world and allowed the rise in him to settle before responding.
“It may be circumstantial, Professor Bradley, but it is also a story steeped in tradition. Anthropology studies other cultures in great detail. Part of that is understanding their beliefs and seeking the truth in their stories and traditions. Archaeology studies past civilizations through things left behind. The stories from my Saudi contact may be anecdotal, but the coin is real. The ancient camel trails detected by LIDAR satellite are real. I’ve no doubt that further investigation will yield additional results that effectively move the circumstantial into the realm of substantial. ”
“Well stated,” Martinez said, as Bradley silently scoffed. “You have provided pictures of the coin, which is certainly of interest regardless, but you do not have evidence of these camel trails, correct?”
“Not currently, no.” Nate was frustrated.
Of course he didn’t have the imagery. He was just a civilian now who didn’t have access to the satellite databases of the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency.
All he had was a hand sketch he had re-created with as much detail as he could recall.
“However, I do intend to pursue them once I begin my fieldwork,” he added.
“Saudi Arabia is not the easiest place to get a permit for archaeological expeditions, which would be required to turn fiction into fact,” Martinez continued. “What makes you think you could secure such a permit?”
“I have some connections in the region,” Nate answered. “It’s being worked as we speak.”
It was a half-truth. He had reached out to Ahmed multiple times but had not heard back lately. Ahmed seemed to be avoiding the question, responding but not addressing the issue. Getting a permit was proving more difficult than Nate had anticipated, but he was determined to find a way.
“I see,” she replied. “Are there any more questions from the panel?”
Nate looked over at Rogers, the man who was supposed to have his back in this dissertation pitch.
The man who had sat quietly throughout, not wanting to stick his neck out for a student in front of the department head and an influential faculty member.
The man who was competing for a tenured position. The man who said nothing.
“Alright, then,” she said. “Give us a few minutes to deliberate.”