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earlier this week. Several sections of the wall here are quite unstable. And being that we’re on a fault line, you can’t be too careful.”
    â€œThat relief,” Father said, gesturing toward the carved stone. “Why is it here?”
    The man smiled. “A piece of the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus. It fell into ruins, and the medieval Knights of Malta used some of the pieces in the wall of this structure.”
    â€œMausoleum?” Father said. “You seem to know a lot.”
    â€œAfter Mausolus, satrap of Asia Minor,” the man replied, his face opening into a huge grin. “As for me, I’m Nigel, one of the curators here at the museum. The tomb was built forhim by Queen Artemisia . . .”
    â€œSatrap again,” Osman murmured, as Father yammered on and on with the man. I wondered why Father was acting so uninformed. We all knew about the Mausoleum. It was one of Father’s favorites, an architectural masterpiece that influenced buildings the world over.
    â€œI probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Nigel said, “but we’ve got quite a bit of material here from Halicarnassus. I’m a bit obsessed. They say the world’s biggest sapphire was hidden in the ruins, and who wouldn’t want to find that?”
    As Nigel laughed, I could see Gencer starting to take an interest in the conversation. “The architecture was revolutionary for its time,” Nigel went on. “Rather than adorning the structure with images of gods, they used nature, animals, real people. We believe the site was just down the hill from here. As for that”—he gestured to the huge hunk of carved stone—“you might be interested in seeing that bas-relief lying over there.”
    Gencer stepped in between Father and Nigel. “I think we’ve got to be going. Some business to attend to —”
    â€œWe’re going to look at the bas-relief,” Father said to Gencer as if he were talking to a child.
    We walked closer to the stone. It was a piece of granite, carved with the figure of a long-haired man, clad in intricately carved robes that seemed to turn into clouds around his knees. He was shown reaching out and handing a hugesmooth ball to a pair of arms that were cut off by the jagged edge of the wall. The ball was carved deep into the stone, and straight lines radiated away from it at every possible angle.
    â€œHey, that’s Mausolus giving his queen the magical bauble, Father!” Osman cried. “But where is Artemisia? Sir, what happened to the other piece?”
    Father smiled at the man and put a friendly arm around his shoulders. He led the man away, flattering him, peppering him with questions, jokes, and slaps on the back. Bits of conversation reached our ears. “Were you part of the excavation . . . Incredible . . . What I wouldn’t give to have a job like yours!”
    As the curator beamed with pride, Gencer’s eyes were slits, his lips tight. Is it bad that I love to see Gencer angry?
    Moments later we were at a nearby café, where Gencer’s men were waiting for us at a table in the back. Father sat down, smiling. “My friends, we have some bad news and some good news,” he began. “First, the bad news. The museum is much more heavily guarded than we thought. I see no way to do what we planned without considerable risk and likely bloodshed.”
    Ahmet, Dodi, and Ali looked alarmed.
    â€œDon’t worry, boys, Khalid’s got another great plan!” Gencer drawled sardonically.
    Father went on, ignoring Gencer. “My friends, I truly believe this is an even better opportunity for us. Far better. You see, there is a ruined tomb just a few miles out of town that the museum’s curator Nigel says is very likely the site of the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus!”
    â€œOf what?” Ahmet said.
    â€œHalicarnassus,” Father repeated.
    â€œGod bless you!” said