"Come again?"

"He used to go by his first name; Milton, or Morton…"

"Melvin,” put in Tibbett. “Melvin A. Tremaine. I suppose it isn't dashing enough for him nowadays."

"Right, Melvin A. Tremaine. He was a pioneer in the study of postglacial plant succession; very important stuff for physical anthropology. Some of the definitive work on late Pleistocene human skeletal dating was based on his research on vertical pollen distribution analysis."

Julie nodded. Tibbett's eyes glazed slightly.

"He and I are colleagues in a way,” Gideon said. “He was at U-Dub twenty or thirty years before I was."

"U-Dub?” Tibbett echoed.

"He's speaking native dialect,” explained Julie. “It means University of Washington."

"I see,” said Tibbett, who obviously didn't.

"U-Dub,” Julie said. “It's short for U.W."

"Oh.” Tibbett searched visibly for something to talk about. He didn't want to go back to Heiblers either. “You know, next year is the thirtieth anniversary of the Tirku project, and the department is going to put up a memorial near the site of the avalanche.” His lips twitched their disapproval. “No possible connection to the publication of his book, of course,” he said tartly. “Well, tomorrow I have to accompany him and his party out to the site-as if I didn't have anything more important to do-where they'll choose the location for the plaque."

He snorted. “Probably an idea dreamed up by his press agent. I know no one consulted me about it. The whole thing's ridiculous. It's not as if anyone ever goes in there, in any case, so who's going to see it? He's simply exploiting the majesty of the United States government to promote his book, that's what he's doing."

Tibbett grumbled on in this vein for a while, not without Gideon's sympathy. Still, Tremaine's contribution to post-glacial plant succession was a real one, and Gideon's respect for the man as a scientist was high.