“Luckily,” Scoggins replied, “My academic reputation is already made.” Turning his back on her, he lifted his recorder, murmuring in a low voice. “The central plug is a mass of uncarved black basalt, approximately one point five meters in diameter and one meter high-”
“Obsidian,” she interrupted sharply.
“What?” Scoggins glared up at her.
She returned his glare with matching force, unable to believe such arrogant idiocy could actually exist. She slapped her hand down on the stone. “This is obsidian, professor. Volcanic glass. And it is not uncarved.” She traced the polished top with a finger. The portable lights cast back a dim reflection. “Do you think this happened by chance?”
“A natural fracture in the rock,” he sneered.
“A natural fracture?” Her mouth hung open. Suddenly furious,
