“Well, our friend may have stolen the left leg, but we’ve still got the right.”
She held the flayed doll toward Julie, yanking away a small piece of cotton stuffing. Peering inside, the historian could make out the tip of yet another scroll of paper, this one in the right leg.
She said nothing, her eyes ablaze, as Summer gently worked the object free from the doll’s interior. As Summer laid it on the bench and carefully unrolled it, they could both see that it was not a sheet of parchment or papyrus like the other scroll. Instead, it was simply a typewritten letter, with the heading “University of Cambridge Archaeology Department” emblazoned across the top.
32
DIVERS ARE STILL DOWN,” GUNN ANNOUNCED.
Standing on the bridge of the Aegean Explorer, he peered through a pair of binoculars at an empty Zodiac tied to a drop line that ran down to the Ottoman shipwreck. Every few seconds, he spotted a dual set of air bubbles breaking the surface a few feet from the buoyed line. Gunn swung the glasses past the Zodiac, refocusing the lenses on the large blue Italian yacht that was stationed close by. He noted curiously that its bow was facing him, which put the yacht perpendicular to the current. A partial glimpse of the rear deck showed some men scurrying about in activity, but Gunn’s view was quickly obscured by the vessel’s superstructure.
“Our nosy friend is still perusing the neighborhood,” he said.
“The Sultana?” Pitt said, having earlier deciphered the Italian yacht’s name.
“Yes. Looks like she’s crept a little closer to the wreck site.”
Pitt looked up from the chart table, where he was examining some documents.
“He must be rather hard up for entertainment.”
“I can’t figure out what he’s up to,” Gunn said, setting down the binoculars. “He’s got his side thrusters on, positioning himself crossways to the current.”
“Why don’t you call him on the radio and ask him?”
“The captain tried a number of friendly calls last night. Couldn’t even get a response.”
Gunn stepped over and took a seat at the table opposite Pitt. Lying on the table were two tiny ceramic canisters that had been recovered from the wreck site. Pitt was comparing the items with an archaeological assessment of a merchant ship excavated by famed underwater archaeologist George Bass.
“Any luck dating these?” Gunn asked, picking up one of the canisters and eyeing it closely.
“They’re very similar to some pottery found on a merchant ship that sank near Yassi Ada in the fourth century,” Pitt said, showing Gunn a photograph from the report.
“So Al’s Roman crown isn’t a phony?”
“No, it would appear legitimate. We’ve got an Ottoman-era wreck that for some reason is carrying Roman artifacts.”
“A nice find any way you slice it,” Gunn said. “I wonder where the items originated?”
“Dr. Zeibig is assessing some grain samples that were embedded in one of the potsherds, which may indicate the vessel’s point of origin. Of course, if you’d have let us uncover the rest of your monolith, we might already have an answer.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Gunn protested. “That’s my find, and Rod said I could recover it with him on our next dive. You just keep Al away from it. Which reminds me,” he said, looking at his watch. “Iverson and Tang should be back up anytime now.”
“Then I better go rouse Al,” Pitt said, rising from the table. “We’re scheduled for the next dive.”
“I think I saw him napping next to his new toy,” Gunn said.
“Yes, he’s been anxious to test-dive the Bullet.”
As Pitt made his way across the bridge, Gunn gave one last warning.
“Now, remember. You two keep your hands off my monolith,” he cried, waving a finger at Pitt as he departed.
Pitt retrieved a dive bag from his cabin, then stepped to the rear deck of the ship. In the shadow of a white, aerodynamically shaped submersible, he found Giordino napping on a rolled-up wet suit. Pitt’s approaching presence was enough to wake Giordino, and he cocked open a lazy eyelid.
“Time for another trip to my soggy royal yacht?” he asked.
“Yes, King Al. We’ve been assigned to examine grid C-2, which appears to be a ballast mound.”