CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Valldemossa, Mallorca
December 9
Evan trudged up the low hill, just east of Valldemossa. Sleep had been elusive, thoughts of Miguel invading her mind every time she closed her eyes. After two hours of kicking the sheets, Evan got dressed and went to work. The primary dig site was against a large hillside. It was marked off with low stakes and twine and covered with canvas tarps. Tools and equipment were scattered about. The crew had yet to arrive. Evan stepped into her coveralls hanging in the crew tent and set to work.
The day passed uneventfully as Evan lost herself in unearthing an artifact, a small narrow-necked pot. The task has successfully distracted her from fixating on her late-night excursions, but as the crew finished, she approached her mentor to update him.
Dr. Omar Emberton sat in a canvas chair, jotting notes by hand into a spiral journal. Thankfully, Evan had been promoted above the position of transcribing his notes to the digital log. She had tried for months to get him to upgrade to a tablet, but he had been intractable. I can’t keep my thoughts straight while I’m trying to stab at that damned machine, he would gripe.
“Evan,” Dr. Emberton greeted her. “What's on your mind?”
“Doctor E., I’ve run across something interesting in that cave system,” she said.
“Ah yes, your Moorish treasure hunt.” He clipped his pen into the notebook's spiral spine and set it on the folding table to his right.
“There are small stacks of stones placed intermittently throughout the caves. Encased between two of the three rocks in each stack are these.” Evan reached into her pocket beneath the coveralls and extracted a small bag containing two of the links.
Emberton slid the gold pieces into his palm. “Fascinating.” He set them on the table and grabbed a small magnifier. “They appear to be links in some sort of chain. Definitely gold.” He looked up, his eyes bright with the thrill of discovery. “You really are onto something, aren’t you?”
“I think so.”
“One of our hosts this evening is particularly interested in artifacts from this era.” Emberton stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. He handed her back the gold links. “I hope you’re a quick-change artist. We are invited for seven.”
Evan had completely forgotten about the dinner at the home of the sponsors of the excavation. Government grants only went so far, so archaeologists routinely relied on private donations. This evening their benefactors, Atlas March and Joseph Nabeel, were hosting a gathering for the team.
Emberton continued while ushering her down the hill toward the finca. “Joseph Nabeel is quite the buff when it comes to Moorish history. Be sure to mention your discovery.”
Evan hurried along beside her mentor. It was a blessing in disguise that the event had slipped her mind; she dreaded these sorts of gatherings. Bracing herself for the requisite kowtowing and fake interest in the pastimes of the leisure class, she steeled her spine. If it meant she could continue doing what she loved, she would endure another boring dinner.