As usual, Svengurd took point as they entered the laboratory. Rebecca was so used to this pattern that she barely noticed the men fan out as Brandt held back. No, she barely noticed anything as the sharp smell of antiseptic bit her nose. No matter what country or even continent, a lab always meant sanctuary. The microcentrifuges, spectral analyzers, and antiseptically clean counters made her knees feel weak. Fieldwork was a means to an end. This was where her heart lay. Facts could be found here. Life had an order and precision that could not be found outside these walls.
"Clear," Svengurd sounded off, followed closely by Davidson.
"Start packing, Professor," Brandt ordered. "We're out in ten."
Lochum puffed like a mating grouse. "Perhaps you are not aware of the importance of my work here."
Rebecca could hear the growl in Brandt's voice before he even opened his lips. "Perhaps you are not aware that I-"
"St. Petersburg," she said flatly.
Both men turned to her. Brandt quizzical. Lochum unnerved.
"Belgium was twice as bad," she said pointedly to her ex-professor. Rebecca made sure to have his attention before she continued. "You barely made it out of the Russian ambush. You won't survive this one."
As Lochum surveyed her features, Bunny glowered. The young beauty, obviously used to being the center of attention, did not appreciate that fact that both men were appraising Rebecca.
"We are in the middle of seventeen different DNA map sequences and half a dozen Haplo-gene denaturing," Bunny huffed.
Rebecca spoke to the professor. "If we hurry, we can pack up the most important artifacts and rerun any tests that are still pending."
Bunny pushed her lip out into a full pout. "Coti."
Rebecca wondered whether men actually responded to that maneuver.
Perhaps Lochum had in the past, but this time he extracted himself from her embrace. "Given the incredible significance of our work, a bit of precaution might be warranted. Now start packing while I show Dr. Monroe the extent of the find."
Acting as if Bunny were nothing more than a student, Lochum urged Rebecca forward. "Come, come. Even you will be impressed, my dearest."
"What? I mean... Do I...?" Bunny's cheeks blotched.
Lochum's cajoling tone was gone. "Pack, Bunny."
Shocked, the younger woman stammered, "Can I... I mean, can I at least have some help?"
Davidson looked at Brandt. The sergeant didn't immediately reply. Instead, he hit his radio once. A staticky click responded. Brandt nodded to the private to help then turned to Svengurd. "Stay on the door."
The sergeant was at her heels as she followed Lochum into a separate area of the laboratory. The tall professor turned to Brandt. "You would best be served aiding in the manual labor."
Rebecca expected Brandt to bristle at Lochum's tone, but the sergeant simply shrugged. "Until we're on American soil, where she goes, I go."
Lochum glared at the much younger man with an intensity that had melted university presidents and foreign dignitaries, but the sergeant just casually readjusted his weapon, getting comfortable.
"We're down to nine minutes, Lochum," Rebecca said as she stepped between the two men. "Do you really want to spend these precious seconds quantitating your respective testosterone levels?"
The professor's lips gradually parted in a grin. "Forgive my manners, 'Becca. It has been so long since we entertained guests," he said, then turned to Brandt. "Please join us. I am sure there is much for you to learn."
If the sergeant was bothered by the implied insult, he didn't let it show. Instead, Brandt stepped in front of them, quickly checking the corners. Lochum rolled his eyes at the sergeant's effort, but Rebecca had learned the hard way that Brandt's paranoia was well founded.
Waiting until the sergeant gave the nod, Rebecca stepped into the eerily lit room. Cold cathode lighting, while best for studying ancient bones, always cast a pall over the room. Beneath the greenish light were displayed several dozen skeletal remains from the Eiffel Tower crypt. She read the report on the plane, but to see the bodies spread out was simply overwhelming. Archaeologists waited entire lifetimes for a find like this.
"How many are intact?"
With great pride Lochum answered. "Thirteen."
"Thirteen?" She swung around. "That must be some kind of record."
"And another dozen partial skeletons. Carbon-dated to the early Christian period."
That information might have been more impressive if she weren't familiar with ancient remains. Even the most advanced dating techniques had a seventy-five-year margin of error. So no matter how much Lochum wished these bodies were Christ's contemporaries, these bones could have been from early in Julius Caesar's reign, well before the prophet's birth, all the way past the Judean Uprising, long after Jesus' demise.
Still, the find was incredible for the sheer number of remains and their relative degree of preservation. Rebecca leaned over the closest set of bones. They truly were remarkable specimens. Someone had cared greatly for these people before interring them. The bones were pristine, except for a slight amount of antemortem damage. The ulna and radius were marred at the wrist, along with damage to the tarsal joint.
"Have you confirmed the presence of iron?"
Lochum nodded vigorously. Clearly he wished to amaze her with his insights, but was too consummate an educator to taint her findings.
"Crucifixion then." Rebecca replied as she picked up a small brush and carefully dusted the bones around the area of damage. To think, an iron spike had been driven between the wristbones, then nailed to a cross. This man had suffered for hours, even days, before dying of exposure, blood loss, or scavenger attacks.
Lochum turned to the sergeant, excitement flavoring his words. "Any discovery of remains this old is always stimulating, but the fact they had been crucified makes them exceptional."
"Eight minutes." Brandt tapped his watch.
The professor's hackles went up. Rebecca knew from personal experience that Lochum didn't cotton to being ignored. "Perhaps you are unaware, my dear soldier, that although the Romans crucified several thousand men, sometimes hundreds in a single day, over a brief two-year period, there has only been a single set of skeletal remains ever found. Does that not rouse your brutish brain to wonder what happened to all those bodies? Only one out of thousands found?"
"You mean the body discovered at Giv'at with the iron nails still impaled in the ankles?" Brandt responded with an almost bored tone.
Rebecca swung around to stare at the sergeant. How the hell did Brandt know about a completely obscure Israeli archaeological find from the sixties? Was this the same soldier who dropped wreckage onto two gunmen? Guys who did such things seldom tossed out rare academic facts.
Brandt must have seen the disbelief on her face, because he winked at her like "and you thought you had me pegged" before he continued, "I believe the current theory is that the Jewish families stole the bodies during the night, then buried them in well-hidden tombs or ossuaries."
The only sound in the room was the redhead's annoying whine emanating from the other room. Poor Davidson. The kid had his work cut out for him helping the grad student pack.
Brandt glanced at Monroe and Lochum. Both doctors were still at a loss for words. They just stared at him. Ivy Leaguers. They thought they had the corner on knowledge. You did not need seven initials after your name to educate yourself.
"And it's seven minutes now," Brandt reminded them.
That snapped Rebecca out of her shock. "I didn't realize you were versed in Christian antiquity."
He shrugged. "You never asked."
Rebecca wanted to ask another question, but Lochum cut in. "Then you must understand how important my work here is."
Brandt was glad that he turned their attention back to the skeletons. He felt uncomfortable elaborating on his own studies, since he had no scholarly interest in crucifixions. Instead, his curiosity was born of faith, and he doubted either of these scientists would understand.
When he didn't answer, the professor's tone rose from its usual baritone. "Can you not see that this may be the first real, tangible proof of that theory? That we can prove once and for all that it was not scavengers who scattered the remains, but instead an organized and concerted effort by the Jewish community to honor and protect their dead."
Brandt glanced into the other room. Svengurd viewed the hallway through the cracked open door as Davidson packed a case of vials into a crate. Bunny hovered over him, henpecking the whole time but not lifting a finger otherwise to help.
Obviously infuriated that Brandt was not rising to his bait, Lochum pressed on. "Do you know how many scholars have contemplated this question? Why move the remains from the area? Why not document where they took them? Why not document anything about this exodus?" The older man seemed out of breath, but wheezed on anyway. "For three centuries after the en masse crucifixions the early Christians wrote such detailed histories of this period. Why would they overlook such a massive effort by their people?" The professor ended red-faced as the veins on his forehead bulged.
"Archibald! Have you taken your blood pressure medication today?" Rebecca demanded. The two descended into a fight more reminiscent of a married couple than a student and teacher.
They also stood closer than most. Casually she checked his pocket to find the drug vial. Lochum wasn't shy about grabbing her wrist and jerking the medication from her grip. They had done this all before.
"You two were-" Brandt stopped before he stated the obvious. Lochum and Monroe had been lovers. Rebecca had been Bunny.
The two women's hackles weren't raised as professional adversaries. They were romantic rivals.
Rebecca's stock just plummeted. Granted, the professor must have once been fiercely handsome, but now? Even ten years ago the guy must've been sixty-five. The professor probably had age spots in places that Brandt didn't even want to think about. Hell, Lochum was old enough to have been Rebecca's father. No, grandfather.
But what did he care? After a quick flight to London and a rendezvous with MI-6, then hop on a red-eye to the States. By tomorrow morning, they would part company and never see one another again.
"Enough!" Lochum yelled at Monroe, then turned to Brandt. The professor looked ready to blow a capillary. "Did you even notice this?"
The professor pointed to a small silver coin next to the skeleton's skull. Glancing to the other tables, Brandt realized that each body had one.
Monroe looked skeptical. "There could be a thousand reasons why there might be currency left with-"
Lochum pulled a small coin from his pocket and laid it side by side. "Damn you, woman! This is from the same minting as our coin!"
Brandt was more intrigued by Monroe's reaction than Lochum's outburst. Rather than move forward to inspect the silver, she took a halting step back. Much as she had done on the Tarmac.
"Look at the stamping, 'Becca. They all have Herod's insignia."
Interest piqued, Brandt studied the coins under the glow of the funky lights. They generated an intense illumination, yet were cool to the touch. The coins sparkled as if they had been made just this day. "Even if they are all from the same batch, what's the big deal?"
The professor's passion clogged his throat, so Monroe fielded the question. "Lochum believes that the coins were buried with people significant to the story of the crucifixion."
Brandt couldn't argue with that. Judas' thirty pieces of silver were not only a symbol of the betrayal, but also the suffering and ultimate loving sacrifice of Christ. Without Judas' treacherous kiss, the crucifixion could not have occurred, and then how would God have proved his love and benevolence? It would make sense that the coins would have carried great significance for the early Christians.
Lochum finally found his tongue. "These bones hold the answers to all those questions and more!" He turned to Brandt. "Just another half hour."
"I'm sure it'll make a fascinating article, professor, but I've got a timetable to keep," the sergeant stated without any of the disdain he felt.
Lochum inhaled sharply. "Publication is the last thing on my mind. For you to understand the complexity... The meaning of what... You must see to comprehend. Come. Come."
The professor strode through an adjacent door. Brandt was definitely not used to taking orders from civilians, especially haughty, intellectual snobs like Lochum. Clutching his M-16, he began to explain in no uncertain terms that he wasn't the prick's puppy dog when Monroe stepped in front of him.
"He can't help it," Rebecca said sadly. "His passion overrules all else. Unfortunately, it tends to be infectious. At least until you wake up one morning and realize you'll never see what he does. His vision is unto himself."
Clearly Rebecca had stopped talking about the research project three sentences ago. Brandt's eyes searched her features but found only her soot-laden braids with strands of perfectly blonde hair peeking out.
She waited for a response, but for the life of him, the sergeant couldn't think of one. Hiding his discomfort, he looked down at his watch, but Rebecca's hand covered the timepiece.
"Six minutes. I know," she said as her touch lingered. Fingers warm against his skin. The woman wasn't restraining him, but she captured his attention nonetheless. "He's got nothing left except this quest. Let's just hear him out."
As her hand fell away, the sergeant felt disappointed. For reasons other than the fact he was tasked to protect her, Brandt followed Rebecca.
CHAPTER 7.
Pantheon-Sorbonne, Paris Rebecca felt the sergeant behind her as they followed Lochum into the much smaller room. Brandt's disapproval of the relationship with her old professor had been palpable, even though he hadn't voiced a single word. Until now, she had never been ashamed of their affair. The professor had been renowned enough to bed his grad students and have them thank him for it.
Lochum cleared his throat. "Do you not find this one of interest?"
Rebecca realized the room only had one table with a single set of remains. A single silver coin rested near the head. Dutifully, she walked around the skeleton, but her mind was elsewhere. This was neither the time nor the place to come to terms with decades-old feelings, but she couldn't shake her unease. Had it been Bunny with her eyes glazed over with unquestioning adoration or Brandt's quiet disappointment that dredged up memories of the long-dead affair?
Before she could answer the quandary, Rebecca had completed her circuit around the bones, yet still had no idea why Lochum was worked up about this particular skeleton. "What's special about this one?"
Rebecca didn't realize that she had stopped so close to Brandt until his words were right in her ear. "This one didn't die by crucifixion."
She had been so distracted by her stray thoughts that she had missed the obvious. The wrists and ankles were intact. There were no metal groves in the bone. Putting a few feet between her and the sergeant, Rebecca replied, "But we've got a lot of non-crucified bodies from that era."
Lochum shook his head. "Have I taught you so poorly, 'Becca? Would they really have buried this man with the rest of the crucified and laid a silver coin upon his lips if he was not an enemy of Rome?"
Rebecca hated how easily Lochum could belittle her, like a schoolgirl who hadn't read her homework assignment. She couldn't keep the defensiveness out of her voice. "No, he must have held some importance to them to travel so far with his remains."
Brandt lifted his watch, but Lochum cut him off. "I will hurry our tardy student along." He turned to Rebecca. "Inspect the atlas-axis junction."
Rebecca blushed that Brandt was there, seeing her need Lochum's help. She leaned over the base of the skull, looking in particular to the first cervical vertebra. As was typical, the atlas had a small bony protuberance that jutted into the skull cavity. The axis lay just beneath it, a more flattened bone for pivoting the head. Not so typical was a huge gouge in the bone.
"He was decapitated," she surmised.
"Finally! Yes."
Lochum had never been a gracious winner, and Rebecca tired of his antics. "The Romans decapitated a lot of people, Lochum. I don't see why-"
"Have you lost all passion, girl! Think! How did these bones find themselves under the Eiffel Tower? Who brought them to France?"
There it was. The world-famous Lochum fervor. Even though she fought against it, his zeal was a tornado that tossed you around until you finally succumbed. Rebecca's mind spun with the history of the region.
Paris had been sacked at least three times by foreign interests. A little fuzzy on the dates, Rebecca knew the ancient Parisii had destroyed their own city rather than allow it to fall into Caesar's hands, then Clovis the Frank blew through town, destroying nearly everything in his wake, until finally the Vikings sacked the city multiple times, and she said so.
Her old professor sighed as he had ten years ago when she had miscut an Incan ice princess's bone sample. "You are rusty, my dear." Lochum turned to Brandt. "I would wager he is familiar with the link."
Rebecca shook her head, until she saw the sergeant squirm. Not the kind of squirm when you were embarrassed for being an idiot, but the kind of squirm where you knew the answer but really didn't want to speak up.
"Brandt?"