He slid open a drawer. Inside was a bulky wooden box. He carefully lifted it out and brought it to one of the workbenches. ‘Here,’ he said, lifting the lid.
Eddie immediately saw that Rothschild had been right. It was obvious even to a layman like himself that the sculpture was of a far lower quality than those around the Altar of Zeus. The stone was roughly carved, even chipped in places, and the figure’s face was crude and almost amateurish compared to the perfection of the Greek gods. ‘Looks like someone palmed it off on their apprentice. Or their kid.’
‘I can’t imagine that it was made at the same time as the rest of the frieze,’ agreed Rothschild. ‘Where’s the Hebrew symbol?’
Derrick pointed. ‘There.’
The visitors leaned closer. Inscribed next to the standing figure was a coarse but recognisable representation of a menorah. Above it Eddie saw letters, barely a centimetre in height. ‘What does that say?’
‘Some of the characters are Akkadian — not my speciality, I’m afraid,’ said Rothschild. ‘But these others are Hebrew letters, dalet and kaf — although they can also represent numbers. These would mean twenty-four.’
‘So this guy’s the Jewish Jack Bauer?’ Eddie said with a smirk.
Neither archaeologist responded to the joke, both deep in thought — and reaching the same conclusion. ‘The twenty-four Elders?’ said Derrick.
‘It could be,’ Rothschild replied, intrigued. ‘We should find out if the spot that was broken open at the Villa Torlonia had the same symbols. If it does, this might also be a marker.’
‘A marker for what?’ asked Eddie. ‘One of these angels?’
‘Maybe. But if it is,’ she went on, ‘we still won’t be able to figure out where it’s hidden unless we can identify where this piece of the frieze belongs.’ She turned to Derrick. ‘Markus, you don’t have any idea where it should fit?’
The German shook his head. ‘No. We have not yet matched it to any part of the altar.’
‘So maybe it isn’t part of the altar,’ Eddie suggested. ‘Can you stand it up? Let’s see the rest of it.’
‘There is nothing on the other sides,’ Derrick assured him.
‘Humour me.’
‘What are you thinking?’ Rothschild asked as the German started to lift the piece. ‘I know that attitude — I’d expect it from Nina.’ Her own attitude was not exactly approving.
‘Guess I’ve picked up bad habits from her. But you know what one of her other bad habits is? Usually being right. About archaeology, anyway. Kids’ names, not so much.’ A brief smile, which vanished in a flare of anger at the thought of her still being a prisoner.
That in turn hardened his resolve to do whatever it took to get her back. Derrick had by now stood the thick block on its end; Eddie took hold of it. ‘Wait, you should not—’ the archaeologist protested, but he had already pulled it around a half-turn. ‘This is a valuable artefact! Only museum staff are allowed to touch it.’
‘Report me to the boss. Oh, wait, that’s you,’ Eddie replied, switching on the bench’s lamps. ‘Hey, look at this.’
The back of the block appeared plain. ‘Look at what?’ said Rothschild.
Eddie ran a fingertip over the surface. Large parts felt rough to the touch, like a fine sandpaper — not at all like marble, even though it was the same colour as the rest of the piece. ‘The front and sides are all lumpy, like the sculptor was a bit cack-handed — but this is almost flat. And it feels different.’
Derrick gave it an experimental stroke with a fingertip. ‘He is right,’ he told Rothschild. ‘It is like… like a patch, where a flaw was repaired.’ His hand moved back across the blank face. ‘But this is too big to be a simple fix. I think…’ He trailed off.
‘You think there’s something inside it?’ Eddie finished for him. ‘Like this block’s hollow — they chiselled it out, stuck the angel in the hole, then filled it in again?’
‘It can’t be,’ said Rothschild, though with some uncertainty.
Derrick bent down to scrutinise the surface. ‘It is possible,’ he admitted. ‘Look, here — with the light at the right angle, you can see where the repairs were made.’
He withdrew, letting the woman take his place. ‘Yes, I see it,’ she said, almost reluctantly.
‘If this angel’s inside, we’ve got to get it out,’ Eddie said.
‘And how do you suggest we do that?’ demanded Rothschild.
‘I know a way — worked fine last time I tried it.’ He hefted the lump of stone, turning as if to dash it on the floor.
Both archaeologists simultaneously shrieked, ‘No!’ Derrick darted to clap his hands around it before Eddie could let go. ‘You cannot do that!’ he yelled.
‘We’ve got to find the angel or they’ll kill Nina!’ the Englishman replied.
‘There are better ways than smashing it to bits!’ protested Derrick. ‘We have an ultrasound scanner. I can see if there really is something hidden inside. If there is, then I will consider — consider — drilling into it. But this is a valuable piece!’
‘The patch is at the back,’ Eddie pointed out. ‘Even if you open it, the bloke on the front won’t be damaged. Once you work out which part of the altar it comes from, you can stick it where it belongs and nobody’ll know anything happened to it. That’s if it’s even actually part of the altar,’ he added.
‘The style really doesn’t match any other part of the Gigantomachy,’ Rothschild reluctantly reminded Derrick.
The German scowled, but finally nodded. ‘Okay. I will use the ultrasound. But we will not damage it unless we are sure this angel is there. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ said Eddie, nodding. He released his hold.
Derrick reclaimed the block with relief. He returned it to the box, then opened a cabinet and took out a piece of equipment. ‘Now, this will take a few minutes to set up. But we will soon see what is inside.’
Outside, the rain continued to fall, spraying off a tram as it rumbled past the museum. Night had arrived, the darkness deepened by the thick clouds. A guard looked through the lobby’s glass doors, glad he did not have to go out into the deluge.
He was not, he mused, even supposed to be on duty tonight. But there had been some sort of security scare, extra staff called in to keep watch. Being summoned on very short notice was inconvenient, but the overtime pay would make up for it.
The guard was about to continue his rounds when something drew his attention. The parking spaces immediately in front of the museum were reserved for buses, but whoever was driving the black van that had just arrived in a hurry clearly didn’t care about such restrictions. The driver and passenger emerged, as did another four men from the vehicle’s rear.
All wore peaked uniform caps, glimpses of dark clothing visible under rain capes. One was carrying what looked like a small suitcase. ‘Hey, I think the cops are here,’ the guard called to a colleague stationed at the front desk.
The older man looked up from his Sudoku puzzle. ‘What do they want?’
‘Don’t know.’ The six figures made their way across the bridge. ‘Must be something to do with this security alert.’
The second guard huffed, then joined his comrade as the new arrivals reached the door. The lead cop, face hidden in shadow beneath his hat’s dripping visor, rapped sharply on the glass. ‘Police!’ he barked.
‘What’s going on?’ asked the first guard.
‘Police!’ He gestured for the door to be opened.
The pair swapped looks, then the older guard unlocked the doors. ‘Come in, then,’ he said sarcastically as the cops bundled into the lobby, shaking off water. ‘What do you want?’