'Kurt, this is support. Come in, please.'
The words being transmitted through the water had a metallic vibrato, but Austin recognized the voice of the NUMA boat's captain.
He brought the submersible to a hovering stop and picked up the microphone. 'This is the SEA mobile Do you read me?'
'Your voice is a little faint and scratchy, but I can hear you. Please tell Ms. Labelle that Francois wants to talk to her.'
Francois Balduc was the French observer NUMA had invited aboard as a courtesy to the French government. He was a pleasant, middle-aged bureaucrat who stayed out of the way except at dinner, when he assisted the cook in turning out some memorable feasts. Austin handed the mike to Skye.
There was a heated discussion in French, which ended when Skye passed the microphone back.
'Merde!' she said with a frown. 'We've got to go up.'
'Why? We still have plenty of air and power.'
'Francois got a call from a big shot in the French government. I'm needed immediately to identify some sort of artifact.'
'That doesn't sound very urgent. Can it wait?'
'As far as I'm concerned it can until Napoleon returns from exile,' she said with a sigh, 'but the government is subsidizing part of my research here, so I'm on call, so to speak. I'm sorry.'
Austin stared with narrowed eyes at the opening. 'This tomb has been hidden from human view possibly for thousands of years. It's not going anywhere.'
Skye nodded in agreement, although her heart clearly wasn't in it.
They looked longingly at the mysterious doorway, and then
Austin put the submersible in a U-turn. Once they were clear of the canyon, he reached for the vertical thruster control, and the submersible began its ascent.
Moments later, the bubble cockpit popped out at the surface near the NUMA catamaran. He maneuvered the craft around behind the boat and drove it over a submerged platform between the twin hulls. The gate was raised and a winch hoisted the platform carrying the submersible up onto the deck.
Francois was awaiting their arrival, an anxious expression on his usually bland face. 'I'm so sorry to interrupt your work, Mademoiselle Skye. The co chon who called me was most insistent.'
She pecked him lightly on the cheek. 'Don't worry, Francois; it's not your fault. Tell me what they want.'
He gestured toward the mountains. 'They want you over there.' 'The glacier. Are you sure?'
He nodded his head vigorously. 'Yes, yes, I asked the same thing. They were very clear that they needed your expertise. They found something in the ice. That's all I know. The boat is waiting.'
Skye turned to Austin, an anxious look on her face. He anticipated her words. 'Don't worry. I'll wait until you get back before I dive on the tomb.'
She embraced Austin in a warm hug and kissed him on both cheeks.
'Merci, Kurt. I really appreciate this.' She shot him a smile that was only a few Btus short of seduction. 'There's a nice little bistro on the Left Bank. Good value for the money.' She laughed at his blank look. 'Don't tell me you've forgotten your dinner invitation? I accept.'
Before Austin could reply, Skye climbed down the ladder into the waiting powerboat, the outboard motor buzzed, and the shuttle headed toward shore. Austin was an attractive and charming man, and he had met many fascinating and beautiful women in his career. But as leader of NUMA's Special Assignments Team, he was on call day or night. He was seldom home and his globe-hopping lifestyle was not conducive to a long-term relationship. Most encounters were all too brief.
Austin had been attracted to Skye from the start, and if he read the signals in her glance and smile and voice correctly, the feeling was mutual. He chuckled ruefully at the turnabout. Usually he was the one who went charging off when duty called, while his romantic interest of the moment cooled her heels. He gazed off at the boat making its way toward shore and wondered what sort of artifact could have created so much excitement. He almost wished that he had accompanied Skye.
Within a few hours, he would be thanking the gods that he didn't go along for the ride.
LEBLANC MET SKYE on the beach and correctly sized up her sour mood. But the Frenchman's unkempt appearance masked his considerable Gallic charm and wit. Minutes after Skye got into the car, the troll-like man had her laughing with his stories about the temperamental Fifi.
Skye saw that the Citroen was heading to one side of the ice field and said, 'I thought we were going to the glacier.'
'Not to the glacier, mademoiselle. We will be going under it. My colleagues and I are studying the movement of the ice at an observatory eight hundred feet beneath Le Dormeur.'
'I had no idea,' Skye said. 'Tell me more.'
LeBlanc nodded and launched into an explanation of his work at the observatory. As Skye listened intently, her scientific curiosity took the edge off her irritation at being drawn away from the ship.
'And what is the nature of your work on the lake?' LeBlanc said when he was through. 'We emerged from our cave one day and voilal The submersible had appeared like magic.'
'I'm an archaeologist with the Sorbonne. The National Under
water and Marine Agency was kind enough to provide a vessel for my research. We traveled up the river that runs into Lac du Dormeur. I hope to find evidence of old Amber Route trading posts under the waters of the lake.'
'Fascinating! Have you come across anything of interest?' 'Yes. That's why I'm anxious to get back to the project as soon as possible. Could you tell me why my services are so urgently required?'
'We found a body frozen in the ice.' 'A body?'
'We think it is the corpse of a man.'
'Like the Ice Man?' she said, recalling the mummified body of a Neolithic huntsman found in the Alps some years earlier.
LeBlanc shook his head. 'We believe this poor fellow is of more recent origin. At first we thought he was a climber who had fallen into a crevasse.'
'What made you change your mind?' 'You'll have to see.'
'Please don't play games with me, Monsieur LeBlanc,' Skye snapped. 'My specialty is ancient arms and armor, not old bodies. Why am I being called into this?'
'My apologies, mademoiselle. Monsieur Renaud has asked us not to say anything.'
Skye's mouth dropped open. 'Renaud? From the state archaeological board?'
'One and the same, mademoiselle. He arrived hours after we notified the authorities of the discovery and has put himself in charge. You know him?'
'Oh yes, I know him.' She apologized to LeBlanc for jumping down his throat and sat back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. I know him very well, she thought.
Auguste Renaud was a professor of anthropology at the Sorbonne.
He spent little time in teaching, which was a godsend for the students, who despised him, and instead devoted his energy to playing politics. He had built up a cadre of cronies, and with his connections he had risen to a place in the state's archaeological establishment, where he used his influence to reward and punish. He had stymied several of Skye's projects, hinting that they could be put on a fast track if she would sleep with him. Skye had told him she would rather sleep with a roach.
LeBlanc parked the Citroen and led Skye to the tunnel entrance. He scrambled into the entry culvert and, after a moment's hesitation, she followed him to the main tunnel. LeBlanc fitted Skye out with a hard hat and headlamp and they began walking. Five minutes later, they were at the living quarters. LeBlanc used a telephone to call ahead to let the lab know that they were on their way. Then they started off on their half-hour trek.
As they hiked through the tunnel, their footsteps echoed off the dripping walls. Skye glanced around at their damp surroundings and said, 'This is like the inside of a wet boot.'
'Not exactly the Champs-Elysees, I agree. But the traffic is not as bad as in Paris.'
Skye was awestruck at the engineering accomplishment the tunnel represented and kept up a barrage of questions about the details as they trudged deeper into the tunnel. At one point, they came upon a square section
