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fruitlessly to look for them, the search flights over the Bering Sea, the reaction of the Institute of Archaeology, interviews with relatives…
His heart thudded, because there was a picture of his own mother. Holding a baby. Him.
The of microfilm and asked the librarian, "Do you know the address of the Institute of Archaeology, please?"
"I could find out… What school are you from?"
"St. Peter's," said Will.
"That's not in Oxford, is it?" reporter had written a standard tearful-wife-waiting-in-anguish-for-news story, which Will found disappointingly short of actual facts. There was a brief paragraph saying that John Parry had had a successful Royal Marines and had left to specialize in organizing geographical and scientific expeditions, and that was all.There was no other mention in the index, and Will got up from the microfilm reader baffled. There must be some more information somewhere else; but where could he go next? And if he took too long searching for it, he'd be traced…He handed back the rolls
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