Channeling Cleopatra by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough Read Free Book Online Page B

runway, when a door she hadn't noticed in the back of
the hut banged open, and a man with hair sticking up in all
directions peered out of it like a tortoise from his shell.
    "Hi," she said before he could withdraw
again. "Are you the guy in charge?"
    The man looked at her suspiciously, as if
sweaty women didn't come and go from this airport a lot. He could
possibly have been Egyptian, he was dark and swarthy, but surely he
would understand other languages if he had this job. He continued
to look blank as she tried pidgin Arabic, high school French, GI
German, and gutter Italian.
    "Screw it," she said finally, deciding
Nucore must be improving its image by hiring the handicapped, since
the man was apparently hearing impaired. Which could actually be an
asset, working at an airstrip where, if you weren't somewhat deaf
to begin with, the noise of the aircraft engines could wreak enough
damage on your eardrums that you soon would be. "I'm calling my
dad."
    She dialed Duke's cell
phone number. He'd been sent here a week earlier, while she
received some further instructions from Chimera and Wolfe. A
message in three languages told her that her party had traveled
beyond the range of his instrument. "Shit," she said. For the
benefit of the guy still rubbing his head in the doorway, she
added, "Merde. Alors," just for French emphasis.
    At that the man shuffled forward. He was
barefoot, his shirt untucked from cargo pants with the seat
dragging between his thighs.
    "You French?" he asked finally in
Australian-flavored English. Maybe he was from so far in the
Outback he had to think about switching from kangaroo to People
talk. "I thought at first you was a Yank."
    "Talk a little louder," she
suggested. "If I'm French, I can't understand your question." Then,
before he took her seriously, she said, "Yes, I am a Yank. My name is Leda
Hubbard, and I brought a whole bunch of important and very
expensive equipment to work with the crew excavating the harbor
basin. Do they have like, a headquarters or anything? I was told
they knew I was coming, and someone would be here to meet
me."
    "Nobody mentioned anything to me," the man
said.
    "The guy in charge is a Dr. Namid," she told
him. "Could you call him, please?"
    "Oh, sure," the man said, glad she had asked
for someone he'd actually heard of. Then his blank expression
turned to one of anxiety. "He won't like it, though. Hates being
interrupted. And it's nap time, you know. Nobody'll be working at
this hour."
    "Oh, right, siesta," she
said, remembering belatedly what sensible local people did about
the heat that was melting her like the Wicked Witch of the West.
"Well, I'm not a mad dog or an Englishman. I'm an extremely overheated
German/Blackfoot Indian with a soupcon of Romanian Gypsy, and I
want to get out of the hot sun and take a nap as much as the next
person. So I guess Dr. Namid will just have to be unhappy as long
as he sends someone to get me and several million bucks' worth of
equipment baking on the runway."
    "Okay, okay, sit down,
lady. Your face is red." He fished out a Coke from a cooler under
the desk. "Here. Chill." The accent was Aussie, she decided. She used to
know one of those. Well, Kiwi, actually.
    He dialed a number and quickly handed her
the phone. "Namid," said a gruff, impatient voice on the other end
of the line.
    "Dr. Namid, I'm Leda Hubbard, the forensic
anthropologist assigned to your project on behalf of Nucore?"
    "I have informed Nucore we have no need of
another physical anthropologist. Now, if you will excuse me—"
    Leda took a deep breath to keep herself from
saying things like, "Look here, you horse's ass," and instead said,
"I'd be happy to, but I have myself and some equipment to bring to
the dig from the airstrip and no transport, sir."
    "If you can get a hold of me, surely it is
within your capabilities to call a taxi, Miss Hubbard?" he said,
and hung up.
    "Damn!" she said and the swarthy Aussie
smirked.
    "Trouble?" he asked.
    "Only for him," she