Silhouette in Scarlet - Elizabeth Peters [58]
‘You see?’ Georg said eagerly. ‘You realize what it means?’
Leif got up and joined us, closely followed by the faithful Hans. ‘What is it, Georg?’ he asked.
‘You wouldn’t understand.’ Georg continued to beam at me. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’
My sympathies veered back, due north. ‘I don’t understand either,’ I said coolly. ‘I’m not an archaeologist, and the Iron Age isn’t my bag.’
Georg pounded on the give-away word. ‘I knew you would recognize them.’
‘Only that this is iron.’ I picked up one of the metal lumps. As I turned it in the light, it took on form. ‘Arrowhead?’ I hazarded.
‘More probably a point from a throwing spear. That isn’t definitive; a wandering hunter could have lost it. But the bones are those of domesticated animals – sheep and cattle. The spindle whorl proved my case.’
There was no point in pretending to be dense. If I didn’t say it, he would. ‘Kitchen midden,’ I said.
‘Yes. And that means habitation – probably a farm or fort. A rich settlement.’
‘Rich?’ Max rose, knuckles on the desk. ‘How do you know that?’
‘It’s a prime location,’ Georg answered. ‘Easy to defend, with its own water supply and ample pasturage. A coveted site. Only a strong leader could hold it. Probably a local chieftain or jarl.’
‘But the treasure,’ Max said. ‘Where would they have hidden it?’
Georg lifted one shoulder and smiled at me – one intellectual to another, deploring the ignorance of the hoi polloi. ‘The treasure is unimportant. I suspect that this – ’
‘Unimportant?’ Max’s voice was very quiet, but it wiped the smile from Georg’s lips. ‘What do you think we are here for, you young fool? If you have learned anything from your digging, you had better tell me at once, or – ’
‘Wait.’ Leif moved quickly, putting himself between the angry little man and Georg. ‘Let me talk to him. He will tell me.’
‘Talk, then. Persuade him. If you fail, there are other methods.’
Georg appeared shaken. Maybe his last fix was wearing off. He allowed Leif to lead him out.
John edged towards the door. ‘Excuse me,’ he murmured. ‘I know it’s frightfully early, but . . .’
‘Go, then. All of you – except you, Dr Bliss. I wish to talk to you.’
John didn’t favour me with a glance or a goodnight. He ambled out, followed by Rudi. When the door had closed behind them, Max let out a long sigh.
‘Please sit down, Dr Bliss. You have nothing to fear from me. I think we can help one another.’
I took the chair he indicated. Max turned to the window and stood staring out, hands clasped behind his back. I glanced at the desk. He had almost finished the silhouette. It was a gentler caricature than I would have expected; he had turned John’s admittedly pointed nose into a modified Pinocchio pecker and made his chin recede more than it actually did, but that was all. Hand and scissors had slipped, perhaps when Georg said the magic word ‘rich.’ A ragged tear ran across the shadow head, from the bridge of the nose to where the ear would have been.
Max turned from the window, once more calm and smiling. ‘Let us not waste time sparring with one another, Dr Bliss. You are an intelligent woman, and I am a very busy man. It would serve the interests of both of us if I could conclude this matter swiftly and leave you in peace.’
I didn’t say anything, but he interpreted my expression accurately. ‘You doubt that I would leave you alive and well? Consider the pros and cons. I have nothing to gain by harming you and your friends, and a great deal to lose. I will even make concessions, if it will ease your mind. For instance, I might restore Mr Jonsson to you.’
‘So far as I can see, that concession would just make it simpler for you,’ I said. ‘Get all the pigeons in the same place, so to