The trail led to a wide clearing, where little piles of stone were scattered across the field in all directions. A cluster of beige tents was assembled farther down, and Sophie could discern a few people working under a large awning in the center. The trail continued another hundred yards down the hill, to where the waters of the Mediterranean lapped at the beach. Two men were visible working on a small spit of land, bracketed by a pair of generators that hummed loudly in the distance.
Sophie headed toward the large awning, which she could see was erected over an area of active excavation. Two young women stood near a mound of dirt, filtering the soil through a screened box. As she stepped closer, Sophie could see an older man hunched over in a trench, picking at the soil with a small trowel and brush. With rumpled clothes, a close-cropped gray beard, and a pair of glasses perched at the end of his nose, Keith Haasis bore the marked appearance of a distinguished university professor.
“How much Roman treasure have you unearthed today, Dr. Haasis?”
The bearded man stood up in the trench with an annoyed look on his face, which immediately transformed into a wide grin when he recognized the inquisitor.
“Sophie!” he thundered. “How good to see you.” He hopped out of the trench and rushed over, giving her a big bear hug.
“It’s been too long,” he said.
“I just saw you two months ago at the biblical archaeology conference in Jerusalem,” she chided.
“Like I said, much too long,” he laughed.
In her younger days, Sophie had attended numerous seminars held by the archaeology professor from the University of Haifa, which had led to a professional friendship. Haasis was a highly valued contact, as both an archaeology expert and as a source of information on newly discovered sites and destructive activity.
“Dr. Haasis, this is my assistant, Sam Levine,” she said, introducing her companion. Haasis introduced his nearby students, then led Sophie and Sam to a circle of camp chairs that surrounded a large cooler. The professor passed out chilled cans of soda, then wiped his brow and plopped into a chair.
“Somebody needs to turn up the ocean breeze today,” he said with a tired smile. Then, gazing at Sophie, he asked, “I presume this is an official visit?”
Taking a drink, Sophie nodded in reply.
“Any particular concerns?”
“A bit of overstated publicity in yesterday’s
Yedioth Ahronoth
,” she said, retrieving the newspaper article from a shoulder bag. Passing the article to Haasis, she coldly eyed Sam drain his can of soda and snatch a second from the cooler.
“Yes, a local reporter stopped by for an interview a few days ago,” Haasis said. “His story must have been picked up in Jerusalem.”
He smiled at Sophie as he passed the article back.
“Nothing wrong with a little publicity for some proper archaeology,” he said.
“Nothing, that is, except a brazen invitation to every thief with a shovel,” she replied.
Haasis waved his arm through the air. “This site has been plundered for centuries. Any ‘Roman treasure’ that was buried around here is long gone, I’m afraid. Or didn’t your agent think so?”
“What agent?” Sophie asked.
“I was up in Haifa for a meeting, but my students said an antiquities agent stopped by yesterday and surveyed the project site. Stephanie,” he said, calling over his shoulder.
One of the girls at the screened box hurried over. A gangly coed of barely twenty, she stood before Haasis with a look of devotion.
“Stephanie, tell us about this fellow from the Antiquities Authority who came by yesterday,” he asked.
“He said he was with the Robbery Prevention Unit. He wanted to check the security of our artifacts, so I gave him a tour of the site. He seemed most interested in the harbor excavation and the papyrus document.”
Sophie and Sam looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
“Do you recall his name?” she asked.
“Yosef something. He was kind of short, dark-skinned, with curly hair. Looked Palestinian, to be honest.”
“Did he show you any identification?” Sam asked.
“No, I don’t think so. Is anything the matter?”
“No, not at all,” Haasis said. “Thanks, Stephanie. Why don’t you take some drinks down to the others?”
Haasis waited until the girl left with an armful of cans, then turned to Sophie.
“Not one of your agents?” he asked.
Sophie shook her head. “Certainly not from the Robbery Prevention Unit.”
“Maybe he was from the national parks authority, or one of your own regional offices. These darn kids don’t seem to remember anything these days.”
“It’s possible,” she replied in a doubtful tone. “Can you show us your excavation sites? I’m most interested in the tomb. As you know, the grave robbers around Jerusalem have created a cottage industry as of late.”
Haasis smiled, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s right behind us.”
The trio stood and walked around to a wide trench that ran behind the chairs. A sprinkling of red plastic markers was pinned into the ground surrounding a small section of exposed bones. Sophie recognized a femur among the remains embedded in the dirt.
“There’s no formal tomb. We’ve just uncovered a single grave at the edge of the site. It’s really unrelated to the diggings here,” Haasis explained.
“What is this site?” Sam asked.
“We believe it was something of a shipping warehouse. We targeted the area after a set of bronze scales was uncovered here some years ago. Our hope is to collect samples of grains, rice, and other food staples that might have come through the port. If successful, it will provide us a better understanding of the type and volume of trade that passed through Caesarea when it was a thriving center of trade.”
“How does the grave fit in?” Sophie asked.
“We haven’t performed any dating, but my guess is this fellow was a casualty of the Muslim invasion of the city in 638 A.D. The grave lies just outside the foundation of the building, so I think we’ll find that he was a lone body hastily buried against the wall.”
“The newspaper article called it a tomb ‘rich with artifacts,’” Sam noted.
Haasis laughed. “Journalistic license, I’m afraid. We found a few buttons made of animal bone and the heel from a sandal before we halted excavation. But that’s the extent of any ‘rich artifacts’ from the grave site.”
“Our friendly neighborhood grave robbers are liable to be sorely disappointed,” Sam said.
“Indeed,” the professor replied. “For our real riches have been uncovered along the seawall.” He nodded toward the Mediterranean, where the hum from the generators still drifted up the hill. “We discovered an early papyrus document that has us very excited. Come, let’s take a walk down to the water, then I’ll show you the artifact.”
Haasis led Sophie and Sam to the trail, then guided them down the hill. Small ridges of scattered stone broke the soil in odd patterns around them, faint reminders of the city’s once congested multitude of buildings that had long ago been reduced to rubble.
“Using molds to pour and set his concrete blocks in place, King Herod constructed two large breakwaters that circled toward each other like a pair of arms,” Haasis lectured as they walked. “Warehouses were built atop the breakwaters, and a towering lighthouse stood at the harbor entrance.”
“I recall that an early research project mapped a large number of stones underwater believed to have fallen from the lighthouse,” Sophie said.
“A shame Herod’s work didn’t survive the sea’s ravages,” Sam said, looking out at the water and finding little visible evidence of the original breakwaters.
“Yes, most all of the blocks are now completely submerged. But this is where the heart of my interest lies,” Haasis said, motioning toward the invisible bay. “The warehouse up the hill makes a nice field school for the students, but the port facility is what makes Caesarea unique.”
They crossed the beach and hiked onto a small finger of land that poked into the wave-driven sea. Two male students were laboriously excavating a deep pit in the center of the rocky spit. Nearby, a diver could be seen working in the water, applying a compressor-driven water jet under the surface.
“This is where the main breakwater originated,” Haasis explained, speaking loudly to overcome the drone of a nearby compressor. “On this site we believe was situated the equivalent of a customs house. One of the boys recovered the papyrus document in a shattered pot over there,” he said, pointing to a nearby trench. “We expanded some test trenches in several directions but have found no other artifacts.”
“Amazing that it would survive so close to the water,” Sam said.
“We’ve found fragments of the foundation that are still above mean high-tide levels.”
They peered into the active test pit, where one of the students pointed out a small flat section of marble tiling.
“Looks like you’ve reached the basement,” Sophie remarked.
“Yes, I’m afraid there may not be much left to excavate.”
“What’s the diver up to?”
“He’s a marine engineer helping reconstruct the layout of the original port facilities. He seems to think there may be a subterranean chamber to our customs house and is poking around for an underwater access.”
Sophie walked over to the edge of the embankment and stared down at the diver. He was working in ten feet of water almost directly beneath her, manhandling a water jet against the hard-packed bottom. Without noticing the audience above him, the diver broke off his probing and began to ascend. He held the nozzle of the water jet upright, which sprayed a fountain of water skyward when he broke the surface. Standing right in its path, Sophie was doused with a blasting spray of salt water before she could jump out of the way.
“You damn fool!” she cursed, wiping the salt water out of her eyes with her dripping sleeves.
Realizing what he had done, the diver quickly spun the nozzle seaward, then swam to the edge of the embankment and shut off the compressor. Turning to his victim, he gazed at the wet clothes clinging tightly to her body, then spat out his regulator.
“Behold, a goddess from the sea?” he said with a wide smile.
Sophie shook her head and turned her back on him, growing angrier at the sight of Sam laughing out loud. Haasis suppressed his own mirth and came to her rescue.
“Sophie, there’s a towel in my tent. Come, let’s get you dried off.”
The diver popped his regulator back into his mouth and disappeared under the surface as Sophie followed Haasis up the trail. They reached the professor’s tent, where she rubbed her hair and clothes dry as best she could. The warm breeze would dry her clothes quickly, but she shivered at the sudden evaporative cooling effect on her damp skin.
“May I see the artifacts you have excavated?” she asked.
“Certainly. They’re right next door.”
The professor led her to a large peaked tent that was open at one end. Inside were the artifacts recovered from the warehouse site, mostly potsherds and tile fragments, strewn about a long linen-covered table. The student Stephanie was busy with a camera and notebook, carefully numbering and recording each piece before storing them in thin plastic boxes. Haasis ignored the artifacts and led Sophie to a small table at the back of the tent. A single sealed box was on the table, which Haasis handled cautiously as he removed the lid.
“I wish we had found more,” he said wistfully, standing aside to let Sophie peer into the box.
Inside was an elongated patch of brown material, pressed between two plates of glass. Sophie immediately recognized it as papyrus, a common writing surface in the Middle East up to the end of the first millennium. The sample was worn and frayed, yet clean rows of handwritten symbols were plainly visible down most of the document’s length.
“It appears to be a port facility record of some sort. I can make out references to a large quantity of grain and a herd of livestock being off-loaded at the wharf,” Haasis said. “We’ll learn more after laboratory analysis, but I think it might be a customs bill for a merchant vessel delivering goods from Alexandria.”
“It’s a splendid find,” Sophie complimented. “With luck, it will enhance the information gathered from the warehouse site.”
Haasis laughed. “My luck, it will prove entirely contradictory.”
They both turned as a tall figure entered the tent carrying a large plastic bin. Sophie saw it was the diver, still clad in a wet suit, his loose dark hair streaked with water. Still angered over her dousing, she began to make a caustic remark but felt her voice wither when she was met by a bright smile and a pair of deep green eyes that bored right through her.
“Dirk, there you are,” Haasis said. “May I introduce the lovely but damp Sophie Elkin of the Israel Antiquities Authority. Sophie, this is Dirk Pitt, Jr., on loan from the U.S. National Underwater and Marine Agency.”
The son and namesake of the agency head, Dirk walked over and set down the bin. Still flashing a disarming smile, he warmly shook hands with Sophie. She didn’t offer a protest when he was slow to release his grip.
“My apologies for the shower, I didn’t realize you were standing there.”
“No trouble, I’m nearly dry now.” She was inwardly startled at how her anger had suddenly been displaced by an odd tingle. She absently patted her hair to prove her point.
“I hope you’ll allow me the honor of buying you dinner tonight to make amends.”
Dirk’s forward proposal caught her off guard, and she stumbled to answer, muttering something unintelligible. Somewhere a voice inside screamed at her for losing her normally unflappable manner. Haasis thankfully intervened to save the awkward moment.
“Dirk, what’s in the box?” he asked, eyeing it curiously.
“Just a few goodies from the subterranean chamber.”
Haasis’s mouth dropped. “It truly exists?”