“Shall I do it, boss?” Sean asked the foreman, his voice quivering with excitement. The older man shrugged and moved aside as much as the small space would allow, his face creased with displeasure. He handed Sean the cutters and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his posture indicative of the impatience that he was trying to keep in check. Foreman Milne wasn’t the type of man who suffered from acute curiosity or an overactive imagination. He assumed they’d found some rubbish that would need to be cleared away, resulting in wasting several hours of their time. To him, it made no difference who opened the chest.
Sean cut the rusty chain and kicked away the lock when it clattered to the stone floor. He took a shaky breath before lifting the lid and peering inside.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he breathed out as he quickly crossed himself. Sean stepped back, nearly colliding with Foreman Milne, who’d taken a step forward to shine a light into the chest. It was full of bones, the skulls grinning eerily out of the gloom.
The men above were craning their necks for a better look, blocking nearly all the light in the process. Someone already had his mobile out and was snapping pictures of the chest, the flash blinding in the dark space.
“No photos,” Milne bellowed as he stood in front of the open chest. “Get away with you.”
“Sean, call the police. Now!”
Chapter 2
October 2013
Surrey, England
Quinn threw another log on the fire and went to pour herself a cup of tea. A steady rain had been falling since the night before, bringing with it a howling wind and a bone-chilling damp, which seemed to seep into the stones. The room was lost in shadow, the lowering sky and pouring rain having leached all light out of the October afternoon. But the fire glowed in the hearth, casting shifting shadows onto the stone walls and filling the room with a welcome warmth, the crackling of the logs momentarily blocking out the moaning of the wind.
Quinn sat down on the sofa and wrapped her hands around the hot mug. The heat felt good, so she held the mug for a few minutes without drinking, absorbing the pleasant warmth, which brought her a welcome sense of comfort. Despite the cold and the rain, it felt good to be home, even if that home wasn’t quite as she had left it. She’d returned to England only a few days ago, landing in Heathrow on a golden autumn morning. She’d collected her cases from the carousel and made her way out the door toward the queue of taxis waiting at the curb.
She filled her lungs with crisp air and smiled at the brilliant foliage, which stood out in jarring contrast to the cobalt blue of the cloudless sky. After months of relentless heat and merciless sun of the Middle East, it was lovely to feel a cool breeze on her face and the nip of the coming winter already in the air. Quinn looked as if she’d just come back from a tropical holiday, her face and arms tanned to a golden glow. Still, the six months she’d spent on a dig in Jerusalem had left their mark, both physical and emotional, and she was relieved to be home at last. No one paid her any attention as she waited patiently in line for her turn at a taxi. To anyone who bothered to notice her, she was just an average young woman, casually dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and a worn leather jacket. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun atop her head, and her face was devoid of any makeup, except for some lip balm she’d put on before disembarking the plane. She looked like any other tourist, but in archeological circles she was a star, at least until the next big find.
Unearthing the Roman sword dating back to the Great Revolt of 66 CE was a tremendous coup. The sword had been discovered lodged in the drainage system running between the City of David and the Archeological Garden, and it was found only a few feet away from an ancient stone depicting a menorah. The menorah had been etched into the stone with something crude and sharp, like an old nail or a chisel, but it was close enough to Temple Mount to be of tremendous interest and confirmed what the original menorah might have looked like. Researchers from the Israel Antiquities Authority put forth various theories on the significance of the find.
Quinn had to admit that she had been more interested in the sword. It was still in its leather scabbard, which was miraculously well preserved. The scabbard kept some of the decorations from being obliterated by time and the elements, allowing a glimpse into Roman craftsmanship of the period. The sword likely belonged to a simple infantryman, but it was so much more than a sharp hunk of metal. It was not only a tool but also a work of art, a lovingly crafted weapon that would have been treasured and well maintained by its bearer. The sword would remain in Jerusalem, but Quinn had published her findings and had agreed to interviews with CNN, the British Archeology Magazine, and the Archeological Journal, scheduled back-to-back for the day after her arrival. The sword might be thousands of years old, but the news of its discovery would
