a trance that had taken him back in time. “The riches of the empire belong to us. See if you can find out more about this shipwreck.”
Maria nodded. “It can be done. What of this man Pitt and his wife? We know where they are staying.”
Celik continued staring at the tunic. “I do not care. Kill them if you want, but do it quietly. Then prepare for the next project.”
Maria nodded, a thin smile crossing her lips.
7
Sophie Elkin dragged a brush through her straight black hair, then took a hurried look at herself in the mirror. Dressed in worn khaki pants and a matching cotton shirt, and, without any makeup, she would have been hard- pressed to make herself appear any plainer. Yet there was no hiding her natural beauty. She had a narrow face with high cheekbones, a petite nose, and soft aquamarine-colored eyes. Her skin was smooth and flawless, despite the many hours she spent outdoors. The features were mostly inherited from her mother, a French woman who had fallen in love with an Israeli geology student studying in Paris and had migrated with him to Tel Aviv.
Sophie had always minimized her looks and femininity. Even at an early age, she spurned the dresses her mother would buy, preferring pants so she could join the neighborhood boys in rough-and-tumble activities. An only child, she’d been close to her father, who had ascended to the head of the Geology Department at Tel Aviv University. The independent young girl had relished accompanying him on field expeditions to study the geological formations in the surrounding deserts, where she raptly absorbed his fireside tales of biblical events on the very grounds where they camped.
Her father’s work led her to study archaeology in college. While attaining her advanced degrees, she was jolted by the arrest of a fellow student for stealing artifacts from the university archives. The incident introduced her to the dark world of underground antiquities trading, which she grew to detest for its impact in the destruction of historic cultural sites. Upon receiving her doctorate, she abandoned academics and joined the Israel Antiquities Authority. With passion and dedication, she worked up to head of the Antiquities Robbery Prevention Unit in a few short years. Her devotion left little time for a personal life, and she dated infrequently, preferring to spend most nights working late.
Grabbing a handbag, she left her small hillside apartment overlooking the Mount of Olives and drove toward the Old City of Jerusalem. The Antiquities Authority was housed in the Rockefeller Museum, a sprawling white limestone structure situated near the northeast corner of the Old City. Employing just twelve people, her department was tasked with the impossible duty of protecting the roughly thirty thousand ancient cultural resource sites located around Israel.
“Good morning, Soph,” greeted the department’s senior detective, a lanky, bug-eyed man named Sam Levine. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“Thanks, Sam, I’d like that,” she said, covering a yawn as she squeezed into her cramped office. “There was some sort of all-night construction going on near my apartment last night. I slept terribly.”
Sam returned with the coffee and plopped down on the other side of her desk.
“If you weren’t going to sleep, then you should have joined us on recon last night,” he said with a grin.
“Any apprehensions?”
“No, our Hebron grave robbers must have taken the night off. We gave up by midnight but did come away with a nice stack of picks and shovels.”
Perhaps the world’s second-oldest profession, grave robbing ranked near the top of the Robbery Prevention Unit’s criminal hit list. Several times a week, Sophie or Sam would lead a late-night stakeout of ancient grave sites around the country where signs of recent excavation had been observed. Pots, jewelry, and even the bones themselves could usually find a ready buyer in the underground antiquities market that pervaded Israel.
“Now that they know we are onto them, they’ll probably lay low for a couple of weeks,” Sophie said.
“Or move elsewhere. Assuming they’ve got enough cash to buy some new shovels,” he added, smiling again.
Sophie glanced through some reports and news clippings on her desk, then passed one of the articles to Sam.
“I’m concerned about this excavation at Caesarea,” she said.
Sam quickly skimmed the article.
“Yes, I’ve heard about this. It’s a university-sponsored excavation of the old port facilities. It says here that they have uncovered some fourth-century seaport artifacts and a possible grave. You really think the site is a theft target?”
Sophie drained her coffee, then set down the cup with an agitated stare.
“The reporter might as well have put up a banner and flashing lights. Any time the word ‘grave’ finds its way into print, it’s like a magnet. I’ve begged the news reporters a thousand times to avoid publicizing grave sites, but they are more interested in selling papers than protecting our heritage.”
“Why don’t we go down and take a look? We’re scheduled for a recon tonight, but I could reassign the boys down there. They’d probably enjoy a trip to the coast.”
Sophie looked at her desk calendar, then nodded. “I’m free after one. I suppose we could go check it out, and stay the night if it looks worthwhile.”
“Now you’re talking. For that, I’ll go steal you another cup of coffee,” he said, jumping out of his chair.
“Okay, Sam, you got a deal.” Then she looked at him sternly. “But just don’t use the word ‘steal’ around me!”
Situated on the Mediterranean coast about thirty miles north of Tel Aviv, Caesarea was a lightly populated enclave easily overshadowed by its historic past as a seat of Roman power. Built by King Herod the Great as a fortified port city in the first century B.C., Caesarea featured the famous hallmarks of Roman architecture. A high- columned temple, a grand hippodrome, and an ornate palace along the sea all graced the city, which was fed cool inland water via massive brick aqueducts. Herod’s most impressive engineering feat was not on land, however. He designed and built massive breakwaters out of concrete blocks, using them to create the largest protected harbor in the eastern Mediterranean. The success of the harbor propelled Caesarea to greater importance as the capital of Judaea under Roman rule, and the city remained a key commerce center for over three hundred years.
Sophie was well acquainted with the remains of the ancient city, having spent a summer at the site while in college. Turning off the busy coastal highway, she eased the car through a luxury-home development, then entered the remains of the Roman site, which was now a protected state park. The centuries had not been kind to the original construction, its old Roman buildings having long since crumbled. Yet many remnants of the city’s ancient features were still intact, including a large section of an arched aqueduct that stretched across the ocher sands, not far from a sizable amphitheater that faced the sea.
Sophie parked the car in a lot near the hilltop entrance, adjacent to some Crusader-era fortifications.
“The university team is excavating near the harbor,” she said to Sam. “It’s just a short walk from here.”
“I wonder if there’s anything to eat around here?” He eyed the barren park hills around them with trepidation.
Sophie tossed him a water bottle from the backseat. “I’m sure there are some restaurants back near the highway, but you’ll have to settle for a liquid diet for now.”
They walked down a trail that weaved toward the beach, broadening at several points along the bluff. They passed a long-forgotten road that had once been lined with residences and small businesses, their ghostly remnants little more than disorderly piles of stone. As they descended the trail, the small harbor opened up before them. There was little left to recognize its boundaries, as the original breakwaters had become submerged centuries ago.
The trail led to a wide clearing, where little piles of stone were scattered across the field in all directions. A cluster of beige tents was assembled farther down, and Sophie could discern a few people working under a large awning in the center. The trail continued another hundred yards down the hill, to where the waters of the Mediterranean lapped at the beach. Two men were visible working on a small spit of land, bracketed by a pair of
