QUATTRO
AS WINNIE WALKED to the car with Dunk Mortill, the scene felt surreal – completely crazy and yet somehow natural. It dawned on her that his fame gave her a false sense of familiarity with him. She suspected that he used that quirk of celebrity to his advantage, assuming friendship with strangers whenever it benefited him.
They glided into the back of the luxury sedan, replete with new-car scent. Before buckling up, she ran a hand over the soft leather upholstery. Incongruously, a cheesy electronic dance song played over the audio system. When Dunk reached for a knob on the back of the center console, she realized the backseat had its own controls. He turned down the volume, then sat back, stretching out his legs.
The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror then smoothly pulled away.
Dunk peered at her out of the corner of his eye. “What would you say if I told you that Domenico Rentino has invited ‘The Dig’ to excavate his ruins?”
Her instinct, again, was to take what he said with a grain of salt, but here they were in the back of Domenico’s car. Obviously, Dunk had made inroads with the man.
She didn’t like it. They were so close to Pompeii. The site could be internationally important, but instead of undergoing scholarly excavation, it would be plundered on a farce of a TV show.
That gave her a pang of personal regret. If she’d tried harder to meet with Domenico before now, maybe she could have averted this disaster. Farber had been right to call her a marshmallow.
She moistened her lips. “So this is the big plan to save your show that you mentioned to my teaching assistant?”
He grinned at her. “Jealous?”
Her words stuck in her throat, but only for a second. “Yes, I am. And I’m also concerned that a world-class site won’t get the scholarly attention it deserves.”
“Well, you’ve no need to be jealous or concerned.” He laughed. “We want you to be our inscriptions expert.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. Had she heard him right? She replayed the words in her mind. If he meant it, this was the wildest piece of providence to fall into her lap yet, though not necessarily one she wanted to accept. “You mean to appear on your show?”
“Yes. It’s a team effort, so you would have to try your hand at digging, cleaning finds, cataloging, and all the rest, but your most important function would be to translate any inscriptions we find.”
The ride had surpassed surreal and entered the bizarre zone. If he had been talking about a normal excavation, she would have given an arm and a leg to do it. But to be filmed on the job, struggling with details, possibly making errors or clashing with the other personalities? To risk all that for a show that didn’t even take science seriously?
She shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t want to be on TV.”
He gave her his most charming, television-host smile, all dimples and brilliant teeth. “Why not? The camera will love you.”
She looked out the window as the car pulled onto a dirt lane between two vineyards. Clouds had moved in, she noticed. Suddenly, it looked like rain. “Your show just isn’t ... me.”
“You academics always think ‘The Dig’ is beneath you.” His tone remained good-natured. “So beneath you that you’ve never even watched an episode. Right?”
Right. His insight gave her pause. She had only seen a snippet or two. Was it possible she had tuned in at a bad moment? After all, Chaz had cited the program as an influence on him. She turned back to Dunk. “I’ll watch the episode on Domenico’s ruins. And if I can work behind the scenes, I’d be happy to contribute that way.”
He shook his head, still smiling. “I’m afraid it’s all or nothing with ‘The Dig.’ ”
“Then I can’t do it. But I’m flattered that you asked.” That part was true. She found it hard to believe he had approached her, of all people. Fishing a card out of her handbag, she held it out to him. “I’ll give you my card in case you want a second opinion on your translations.”
He took the card and stashed it inside his jacket. “I’m gutted. Perhaps you’ll change your mind when you see the site.”
“I don’t think so, but I’m grateful that you’re showing it to me.”
As the car pulled up and parked next to an expansive hill overgrown with brush, a dark cloud moved in front of the sun.
The driver got out and opened the door for them, glancing up at the sky. “I will await you here. It looks like rain comes.”
She frowned. “I hope we’ll have enough time to check out the site.”
“We better hurry,” Dunk said. “Come on.”
He guided her to a dirt path leading up the center of the hill. They climbed for a few minutes, then emerged in a clearing the size of a football field, only much lumpier.
She stopped and stared in awe. Parts of brick walls – obviously buried buildings – jutted out from mounds in three separate areas. Near the largest one, piles of sandy soil revealed that someone had been digging recently.
Feeling giddy, she smiled at her companion. “This is much more extensive than I pictured. Chaz will be sorry he missed it – unless Domenico’s daughter is really hot, of course.”
He laughed. “Enza is cute. And she’s one of the few people who have the run of this place. Maybe she’ll show him the site.”
A drop of rain splattered on her arm, but before she could complain about it, a blue-gray cat sauntered out of the brush and meowed at them. Reaching down, Winnie scratched its head. “What a sweet kitty! Sorry, kitty, but it’s starting to rain. We need to keep moving.”
She gave the cat a last pat and walked up to the closest section of wall. The crumbling mortar revealed triangular bricks with the points facing inward. “This is definitely ancient brickwork.”
“Wait until you see what’s inside.” He pulled a flashlight out of his jacket pocket and moved around the side of the mound.
“Inside?” She followed him, and the cat trailed her.
He led her between two piles of lightweight pebbles of pumice that, she knew from the conference, were called lapilli. Between the spoil heaps, she saw the top half of an archway embedded in the ground. A plywood board blocked the entrance. He moved it aside and switched on his flashlight, looking back at her. “Shall we?”
The rain began to fall faster, and the cat gave a plaintive meow.
She motioned for her companion to go in first. “After you.”
They ducked inside, along with the cat.
A chill shivered down her spine as they entered a dim room, half-filled with lapilli. On the wall adjacent to them, a well-preserved fresco peeked out from beneath the volcanic debris.
He focused his beam on it, and the figure of a woman in Roman robes came into view. With her chin held high and her expression somber, she appeared to be reading aloud from a tablet. She might have been a priestess performing a ritual.
The little hairs on Winnie’s forearms rose and tingled. “Holy cow.”
He held the flashlight out toward her. “Here. Take the torch.”
She grabbed it and panned the beam around the room. On the opposite wall, another partly exposed, robed figure wore a creepy ancient theater mask. As she studied it, a crash of lightning and thunder outside made her jump.
Steadying herself, she said, “This place gives me chills.”
“Me, too,” he said softly, “every time I come here.”
The cat arched its back and hissed at the fresco of the mask. As it ran out the door, Winnie let out a nervous laugh. “Apparently, cats aren’t immune to the atmosphere either.”
He smiled and pointed to the figure in the first painting. “See the tablet the woman is reading in that panel?”
She moved the light back to the first fresco and nodded. “Yes. What about it?”
“Domenico found a tablet like that near the door we just entered. We think there could be others. That’s why we need a proper translator on hand.”
Curiosity percolated in her. “What’s inscribed on the one he fou
nd?”
“Just the names of foods, almost as if it’s some sort of ancient grocery list.” He shrugged. “Our lead archaeologist had a go at it but couldn’t decipher all of the text. We hope to find other tablets with more important information.”
“The one you have could be important.” Picturing the tablet in her mind, she contemplated how it might fit in with the mysterious paintings in the room. “It may be a recipe for a sacramental cake or some other ritually used food. And we know so little about the Roman mystery religions, anything helps.”
He grinned. “If we knew more, then we’d take all the mystery out of them.”
“I doubt it. But I’d love to try.”
His smile faded slowly, and his wonky comedian’s eyes seemed to penetrate her. “Then join us. It’s only five days of your life. And you’ll love the experience. I promise.”
The frescoes and the tablet intrigued her. Feeling a pull of temptation, she looked away and reminded herself the excavation was for a shallow TV production – although, admittedly, one she had never given much chance. She wished she’d asked Chaz if he felt the show had real merit or had mostly appealed to him when he was a kid.
When she thought of him, she remembered his dissertation on ancient sacrifice. This site would be an invaluable resource for him if she could get him a place on the excavation team. Hesitantly, she asked, “Would there be room on your team for Chaz? He’s my TA – teaching assistant, that is. He’s working on a dissertation on Roman religion, and he’s an insightful kid.”
Dunk’s grin flashed again. “Sure, if you accept, we have room for your TA. But for both your sakes, I should warn you the pay is lousy. Everyone gets the same small stipend plus room and board during the excavation.”
“Money isn’t important.”
“I hoped you’d say that.”
She massaged her temples. Was she really contemplating making a fool of herself on television? On the plus side, she probably wouldn’t get much camera time. Maybe she could keep her head low and do her job without drawing attention to herself. Or was the magic of this room making her temporarily insane? She didn’t know. “When is the dig?”
“In ten days.”
The lack of time for preparation stunned her. “That wouldn’t give us much time for background research.”
He shrugged. “You’re not supposed to have time. We do the whole dig in five days.”
“Sounds like trouble.”
“Or the challenge of a lifetime.”
She cast the light back on the priestess reading from the tablet. The artist had imbued her with unusually detailed features for a Roman fresco. Her posture and expression gave her an attitude of serenity and confidence, as if she had complete faith in whatever rite she performed.
Winnie wanted to know more. Maybe the dig would turn up a tablet with the text the priestess was shown reciting.
“Something about that figure really draws me in,” she said.
He stepped up beside her. “Then do it.”
Excitement and fear battled within her. “I feel like no matter what I decide, I’ll regret it.”
“Then perhaps you would regret one choice more than the other? Life is short. What are the chances of ever getting to work on a site like this again?”
Next to nothing. She thought of how her father had died without finishing the book he’d worked on for years. He’d never had a shot at a dig like this. If he had, the experience might have gelled his thoughts and helped him wrap up his magnum opus. One thing for certain, he wouldn’t have shied away from accepting, the way she did now. Heaven knew he was a risk-taker, as proven by his fatal decision to sail in questionable weather.
Maybe that last thought should have scared her away, but staring at the painting of the priestess, she felt magnetized to the site. If she walked away, she knew the decision would haunt her forever. “Oh, hell. You’re right.”
“Then you’re in?”
A mixture of emotions surged within her, almost overwhelming her. She hoped she wouldn’t faint or something crazy like that. “I’m in.”
All at once, the patter of the rain outside stopped, and sunlight streamed into the room through the entrance.
Looking toward the light, he grinned. “The gods smile on your decision.”
A snort escaped her. “That must be a new thing with me.”
She felt his gaze on her, heavy with curiosity, but she avoided meeting it. They would only be working together for five days, and he didn’t need to know about her baggage. “Are there other rooms we can see?” she asked.
“I’m afraid this is the only one excavated. We should probably take advantage of the break in weather to get back to the car.”
It was just as well. Her knees felt like jelly, and she’d be returning in ten days anyway, it seemed.
Within fifteen minutes of leaving the temple, the two of them walked back up to the garden reception at the conference.
“I have to meet with my producer now,” Dunk said, “but I’ll e-mail you later with more details about the program.”
She shook his hand, hoping her palm didn’t feel too clammy. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
“My pleasure. I look forward to working with you and Chaz.”
In spite of her doubts, she smiled, amused to think how excited her TA would be when he heard the news.
But as she watched Dunk walk away, a new thought popped into her head: What would Farber think?
Her smile died. Would he see “The Five-Day Dig” as a legitimate publicity outlet for Growden or a disgrace of a program unworthy of his staff’s notice?
Considering that she was the one who had accepted the offer – and that she’d done it without consulting him – she expected the latter.
CINQUE
WINNIE SCANNED THE guests in the garden for Chaz. Not able to spot him or any other acquaintances, she went to an empty table and sat down. Hands shaking with suppressed excitement, she took out her phone and scrolled through the phonebook for the TA’s number. She found it and punched the “Call” button, swallowing against a dry throat.
His phone rang once, twice ...
“Winnie?” he answered, sounding surprised – and no wonder. She never called him. “What’s up?”
“Are you still on campus?”
“Yes. I just said good-bye to Enza Rentino. She has a piano lesson now, but she’s going to meet me again later tonight.”
A little pang stung her. Jealousy? Of course not. Her emotions were just running high. She tried to keep her voice calm. “Dr. Farber will be impressed with your networking skills.”
“And we both live to impress Dr. Farber.” He laughed. “I suppose I should get back to the hotel now and spiff up for tonight.”
“Can you meet me over here at the reception, and I’ll drive you back?” she asked. “I’ve been doing some networking myself, and I want to talk to you about a project.”
“I’ll be right there.”
After hanging up, she got up and paced. Her feelings about “The Five-Day Dig” may have been mixed, but Chaz would be thrilled about doing the show. Not sure she wanted anyone else at the reception to overhear the news, she decided she’d wait until they were in private to tell him.
He got there within minutes and frowned when he saw her pacing. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. I’ll tell you in the car.” She grabbed his arm and steered him toward the parking lot. The hard warmth of his biceps through his dress shirt gave her a jolt of awareness. It probably would have been wiser to avoid physical contact, but the moment felt too big to act stuffy.
He grinned at her as she dragged him out toward the parking lot. “I’m all for strong women, but I’ve never seen you so aggro. Should I be worried?”
“It’s all good,” she said. “I’ve got an interesting proposition for you.”
“Ah, I’ve been waiting for this.”
That convinced her to drop his arm, but she felt too distracted for
his flirting to fluster her much more than she already was. Spotting the rental car, she took out her keys and pressed the “Unlock” button. “I thought Brits were supposed to be reserved. Stop teasing me, and get in.”
“If you want reserve, see my father. Try being raised by him, though, and you’ll have had your fill.” He climbed into the passenger side.
She hopped in the driver’s seat and turned toward him.
Her expression must have been filled with agitation, because he laughed at her. “What in bloody hell is up with you?”
“I just spent the last half-hour with Dunk Mortill.” Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears. “It turns out that ‘The Five-Day Dig’ is doing an episode on Domenico Rentino’s ruins. Since his daughter is a fan, she talked him into letting them excavate.”
His eyes widened. “Blimey. Enza didn’t mention anything about it to me. We only talked about Growden and living in the States.”
She moistened her lips. “But, here’s the kicker: Dunk asked me to join them as an inscriptions expert, and they have room for you on the team, too.”
Disbelief flickered across his face. “Are you winding me up?”
She shook her head. “Personally, I think I’m insane for agreeing to it. I’m sure I’m going to make a fool of myself in front of millions of TV viewers.”
“You already agreed?”
“How could I say no?” That he even posed the question ratcheted up her doubts. She fumbled to get the key in the ignition. “Dunk took me over to the site and showed me some kind of cult room, if not a full-fledged temple. The project will be a boon for your dissertation. You do want to do it – right?”
He looked stunned. “Bloody oath.”
“I thought you would.” Letting out a sigh of relief, she started up the car. “The dig is in ten days. We get a small stipend and lodging during the filming. I’m not sure if I can get us funds from Growden to cover expenses to stay here until then, but don’t worry about it. We’ll work something out.”
“If I have to, I can go home to Blighty while we’re waiting.” He shook his head. “I’m absolutely floored. I thought I did well scoring a date with Enza Rentino. I can’t believe you got us spots on ‘The Dig.’ ”
The Five-Day Dig Page 4