Dead Men's Hearts (32 page)

“You know, Gideon,” Julie said, “now that I think about it, there’s one part of this I’ve never gotten straight.”

Gideon smiled. “Only one? Congratulations.”

“Amarna and Luxor are a long way apart—”

“Two hundred miles.”

“So what were the head and body doing in a sculptor’s studio near Luxor—Thebes, it would have been—while the inlays were being made in another studio way up in Akhetaten?”

“Good question,” Gideon said. “I think that’s what kept me from putting it all together for so long. But you have to remember, this was right at the time the capital was being moved. What probably happened is that the stonework was commissioned while they were still in Thebes, and then the finish-work was done in Amarna, after the move. Or maybe the metalsmith was given the job in Thebes and moved to Akhetaten before he finished it.”

The date inscribed on the statue—1350 B.C. by modern reckoning—supported this, being about the time of the capital’s transfer. The statue itself was now known to be that of a noblewoman of Akhenaten’s court named Semet.

“Well, it all worked out for the best,” said Rupert, understandably anxious to impress this point on Gideon, who still bore some of the bruises he’d gotten in the Western Valley. “The Gustafsons,” he added, purring, “are
very
well-satisfied.”

The Gustafsons weren’t the only ones. Sergeant Gabra had had his picture in newspapers from Novosibirsk to Nova Scotia and had received a commendation from the president of Egypt for retrieving a priceless piece of his country’s patrimony. And, as Gabra had delightedly told Gideon, he’d managed to do it without having to arrest a single American!

The restored statuette of Semet, glowing with refurbished gold, would go to a place of honor in the Cairo Museum. First, however, in gratitude for the part played by the Horizon Foundation, it was to have a brief tour in the United States. At Bruno’s request, the first stop would be the Burke Museum on the campus of his alma mater, the University of Washington.

To celebrate this coup, Rupert had arranged today’s luncheon for officials from the university, the Horizon Foundation, and the Egyptian embassy. And Julie and Gideon. Bruno was to make the after-lunch speech.

“And speak of the devil,” Rupert said, “here he is now.”

Bruno and a few of the other guests, having just come in from a reception at the museum, were clustering at the bar. Bruno, catching sight of them, came smiling to their table, martini in hand.

“Ah, just the people I wanted to see.”

There was news on several fronts, it turned out. First, gifts and donations to the foundation were up almost twenty percent, no doubt attributable to all the recent publicity. And demand for
Reclaiming History,
its editing complete, was beyond anything they’d hoped, which boded well for the future.

Second, TJ, whom everyone had been expecting to accept the directorship of Horizon House when it was offered, had amazed them by turning it down.

“I can’t say I’m really surprised,” Gideon said. “She’s an archaeologist, not an administrator.”

“She put it another way: ‘I’d rather be down on my knees in dirt than up to my eyeballs in crap.” “

On the other hand, Bruno told them, Arlo, who had been expected to turn down the directorship if offered, had also amazed them—by accepting.

“You know,” Gideon said, thinking about it, “that just might work out.”

“I think Arlo will do fine,” Julie said. “All he needs is a chance to spread his wings.”

“I just hope he has wings,” Bruno said.

And third, he continued, third, some
really
exciting news. In the late spring he would be taking another film crew to Giza, Saqqara, and Medum. Stimulated by the success of
Reclaiming History,
he was producing a documentary of his own, something he hoped would be a lasting contribution to Egyptology: the first completely scientific and unbiased examination of the powers of pyramids. Did they know, by the way, that new studies had shown that sleeping in a pyramid could extend the human lifespan by fifteen percent and also inhibit male-pattern baldness? That keeping butter in a pyramidal container could keep it fresh indefinitely?

“I don’t suppose,” he said, rolling his chair a little closer to Gideon’s, “that, um, you’d be interested in coming along to narrate? Another exciting, no-expenses-spared trip to the Land of the Pharaohs?”

Gideon laughed and waved over the bartender for another round.

“Talk to me after I’ve healed up from the last one,” he said.