The Tiger Warrior by David Gibbins Read Free Book Online Page B

German. He nodded and turned to Jack. “You remember Aysha? She dug with me in the mummy necropolis in the Fayum. She’s in charge there now, but I got her down here as soon as we started finding what you’re about to see.”
    “Congratulations on your doctorate.” Jack shook hands warmly with her.
    “And on your assistant directorship of the Institute in Alexandria,” Costas said.
    “Someone had to look after Maurice,” she said.
    Jack smiled to himself. Two years ago Aysha had been Hiebermeyer’s top graduate student, a naturally gifted excavator who had more patience than Maurice did for the minutiae of a dig, able to spend hours dissecting a shred of mummy wrapping where Maurice would have quickly become flustered. She was never subservient to him, always quietly in control. She was his perfect foil, and he was never pompous with her. Jack looked at them together for a moment, and then banished the thought. It was impossible. Maurice would never allow the distraction.
    “You must miss New York City,” Costas said. “I get back whenever I can.”
    “When I finished at Columbia, I kept the apartment,” Aysha said. “When this dig’s over for the season, I’m back in NYC for a sabbatical. The apartment’s where we arranged with Rebecca’s guardians for her to meet up with Jack for the first time. They stayed there together in the spring.”
    “Thanks again for that, Aysha,” Jack said, smiling at her. “You know she’s with us on Seaquest ? ”
    “Of course. She emailed me this morning. A running commentary on your friend’s appalling jokes.”
    “When you’re back in Queens, say hello to my barber, Antonio,” Costas said wistfully. “Corner of Fourteenth and Twenty-second. For ten years he cut my hair. While I was at school. Five bucks a go. Gave me my first shave. Taught me everything I know.”
    “Of course, Costas,” Aysha said, rolling her eyes. “Next time I make a hair appointment.”
    “No appointment needed. You just show up.”
    Jack laughed. Hiebermeyer stamped his foot impatiently, and Jack saw his expression. “Okay, Maurice, what have you got?” Hiebermeyer nodded at Aysha, who ushered them to the edge of the trench. “It’s a Roman villa,” she said. “Or I should say, what counts as a villa in this place. The owner’s used the best available materials and put some expense into it. The walls are made of blocks of fossil coral, the main building material here, but they’re veneered with slabs of gypsum that must have been hauled by camel caravan from the Nile. The little columns are Egyptian gray granite, quarried in the mountains to the west of here. The really fascinating thing is that he’s got a polished wooden floor, completely at odds with Roman tradition. The wood’s teak, from southern India. It’s reused ship’s timbers.”
    “And I see some modern conveniences,” Jack said, pointing over to the corner where the workers were excavating.
    “It’s a water cistern, dug into the rock, lined with impervious concrete. Alongside it there’s an economy version of a Roman bath. He’s built himself a frigidarium, lined with pottery tubes for insulation and an ingenious system for keeping the room damp.”
    “He must have spent a lot of time in there,” Costas grumbled, wiping the sweat off his face. “I don’t know how anyone could stand this heat.”
    “They didn’t, for half the year,” Aysha replied. “This place was pretty well abandoned for months on end, between ships leaving from here to catch the northeast monsoon and then arriving back with the southwest. I think this guy was a traveling merchant, on the move a lot. I think this was just his pad when he was in town. And I think he probably had another place, in India.”
    “In India!” Costas exclaimed.
    “Aysha, show them, will you?” Hiebermeyer said, clearly relishing the moment.
    Aysha nodded, and led them under a tarpaulin shelter beside the trench. On a trestle table were trays full of