"It could be, but it isn't. Back in 1924, near an old adobe kiln at the Nine Mile Hole stagecoach stop, some people unearthed what looked like a religious cross made of lead and weighing sixty-two pounds. They thought it might have been left by Jesuit missionaries or Spanish conquistadors. The cross was encrusted in caliche, a hard crust of calcium carbonate. When they cleaned off the concretion they found true crosses, fastened together with lead rivets. And there was writing on the metal."
"Kilroy was here," Zavala offered.
"Kilroy was writing in Latin. The University of Arizona translated the writing, and it told an incredible story. How in A.D. 775, seven hundred men and women led by Theodorus the Renowned sailed from Rome and were blown across the ocean by storms. They made landfall, abandoned their ships, and continued north on foot until they reached a warm desert. They built a city called Terra Calalus that prospered until the Indians, who had been made slaves, revolted and killed Theodorus. The city was rebuilt, but the Indians revolted again. The Romans' elder, a man named Jacobus, ordered the story inscribed on the cross."
"The Romans had ships big and seaworthy enough to make the trip," Austin said, "but it sounds more like something out of an old pulp magazine. Conan the Barbarian."
"Or Amalric the Mangod of Thoorana," Zavala added.
"Okay, you two," Nina said with mock irritation. "This is serious stuff. As your reaction so eloquently testifies, the story is fair game for a skeptic, which is what happened back then. But they changed their minds when a Roman head engraved in metal was found near the site of the cross, also covered with caliche. An archaeologist at the university organized a dig. They found more crosses, nine ancient swords, and a labarum an imperial Roman standard. Some people became believers. Others said the objects were left by Mormons."
"They came all the way from Utah to bury these things?" Austin said.
Nina shrugged. "There was worldwide controversy. Some experts said that the depth of the objects and the caliche crust proved they could not have been a hoax unless it was perpetrated before Columbus. The skeptics found the written phrases were similar to those in Latin grammar books. Someone said the artifacts could have been left by a political exile from the time of Maximilian, whom Napoleon placed on the Mexican throne."
"What happened to the artifacts?"
"The university decided the project had become too commercial. They've been stored in a bank ever since. No money was available to continue excavations."
"I think I see where we're going with this," Austin said. After all this time, money has been found for the excavation. And my guess is it comes out of the NUMA budget."
"Uhhuh. We're saying that the expedition is being financed by a wealthy backer who wants to remain anonymous. This Person has been fascinated by the story since he was a child and would like to see the mystery cleared up once and for all. Magnetometer readings showed some interesting possibilities at an abandoned ranch near the original excavation site. We dug there and found a Roman relic."
"Quite a story," Zavala said. "Think anyone will buy it?"
"We know they will. The papers and TV stations have already run articles that have helped to give us credibility. When we got in touch with Time-Quest they knew about the project and were eager to help."
They gave you money?" Austin said.
"We didn't ask for any. We did request volunteers. They sent two of them. In return, they asked, as was their custom, to be notified before the press of any unusual find. Which we've already done."
Austin was thinking ahead. "With all this publicity it's going to be pretty hard to make an expedition disappear off the face of the earth."
"The admiral talked about that. He thinks the public nature of the dig will discourage assassination attempts. They'll try to steal or destroy the relic."
"Maybe they won't come in with guns blazing, but I wouldn't advise standing in their way if that's the case," Zavala said.
"When did you tell Time-Quest about the artifact?" Austin asked.
"Three days ago. They asked us to hold off telling anybody else for seventy-two hours."
"Which means they'll make their move tonight"
Nina briefed them on the excavation. She was the project archaeologist. The NUMA staff's undersea backgrounds were being tweaked to give them more landoriented credentials. Trout had easily switched into the role of geologist. Austin would be billed vaguely as an engineer Zavala as a metallurgist.
The truck continued climbing to the high desert country on the fringe of Tucson. It was late afternoon when they left the main highway and bumped down a dirt road past stands of mesquite, chulo, and cactus. They stopped where two Winnebago RVs and several other vehicles were clustered near a crumbling .pile of adobe bricks. Austin got out and surveyed the location. Old rock walls more or less defined the abandoned ranch. The rays of the afternoon sun filtering through the buildup of clouds gave the desert a coppery tint.
Trout's lank form came striding over, hand extended. He wore khakis that looked as if they had just come off a clothes rack at the Gap, a button down pinstriped dress shirt, and a paisley bow tie that was smaller and slightly less flamboyant than his usual neckwear. The only concession to the grunt nature of an archaeological dig were his work boots, although the leather looked as if he had just buffed it with a cloth.
"Got in from DC this morning with Nina," he explained. "C'mon, I'll show you around." He led the way behind the ruins of the old hacienda to a low hill where a patch of ground had been staked out into a grid. An older couple was working at a framework made of wood and wire mesh. The man was shoveling dirt into the screen, and the woman was culling out objects trapped by the wire mesh and placing them in plastic bags. Trout made the introductions. George and Harriet Wingate were a handsome couple who could have been in their late sixties or early seventies but displayed the fitness and energy of younger people. They were from Washington, they said.
"That's the state of Wash
ington," Mrs. Wingate corrected with a proud smile.
"Spokane," clarified her husband, a tall man with silver hair and beard.
"Nice town," Austin said.