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collection. Many thousands of people view them-are educated by them, make career choices in anthropology or archaeology because of them-every week. Not once in a hundred and thirty-five years did any member of the Tano tribe complain or accuse the museum of acquiring them illegally. Now, doesn't it seem just a tad unfair for them to suddenly be demanding them back? And right before a blockbuster exhibition in which they are the featured attraction?"
    Silence fell in the grand tower office, with its tall windows overlooking Museum Drive, its dark-paneled walls graced with Audubon paintings.
    "It does seem a bit unfair," Margo said evenly.
    A broad smile creased Collopy's face. "I knew you would understand."
    "But it won't change my editorial position."
    A gradual freezing of the air. "Excuse me?"
    It was time for her speech. "Nothing in that accession file changes the facts. It's quite simple. The chief of the Great Kiva Society didn't own the masks to begin with. They weren't his. They belonged to the entire tribe. It would be like a priest selling off church relics. By law, you can't sell something you don't own. That bill of sale and contract in that folder are not legally valid. What's more, when he bought the masks, Kendall Swope knew that, and that is clear from the book he wrote, Tano Ceremonials. He knew the chief didn't have the right to sell them. He knew the masks were a sacred part of the Great Kiva ceremony and must never leave the kiva. He even admits the chief was a crook. It's all right there in Tano Ceremonials."
    "Margo-"
    "Please let me finish, Dr. Collopy. There's an even more important principle at stake here. Those masks are sacred to the Tano Indians. Everyone recognizes that. They can't be replaced or remade. The Tanos believe each mask has a spirit and is alive. These aren't conveniently made-up beliefs; they're sincere and deeply held religious convictions."
    "But after one hundred and thirty-five years? Come, now. Why hadn't we heard a peep from those people all this time?"
    "The Tano had no idea where the masks had gone until they read about the upcoming exhibition."
    "I simply cannot believe they were mourning the loss of those masks for all this time. They were long forgotten. This is all too convenient, Margo. Those masks are worth five, maybe ten million dollars. It's about money, not about religion."
    "No, it isn't. I've spoken to them."
    "You've spoken to them?"
    "Of course. I called and spoke to the governor of Tano Pueblo."
    For a moment, Collopy's mask of implacability fell away. "The legal implications of this are staggering."
    "I was simply fulfilling my responsibility as editor of Museology to learn the facts. The Tanos do remember, they remembered all along-those masks, as your own carbon dating proved, were almost seven hundred years old when they were collected. Believe me, the Tanos remember their loss."
    "They won't be properly curated-the Tanos don't have the proper facilities to take care of them!"
    "They should never have left the kiva to begin with. They aren't 'museum specimens'-they're a living part of Tano religion. Do you think the bones of St. Peter under the Vatican are being 'properly curated'? The masks belong in that kiva, whether it's climate-controlled or not."
    "If we give these masks back, it would set a terrible precedent. We'll be inundated with demands from every tribe in America."
    "Perhaps. But that's not a valid argument. Giving back those masks is the right thing to do. You know it, and I'm going to publish an editorial saying so!"
    She stopped, swallowed, realizing she had violated all her resolutions by raising her voice.
    "And that is my final, and independent, editorial judgment," she added more quietly.
    FIVE
     There were no secretaries, receptionists, or low-echelon flunkies seated outside the entrance to Glen Singleton's office. The room itself was no larger than any of the other few dozen offices scattered around the cramped and dusty confines of the