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night.”
    â€œWhat big party?” Weaver asked, and they all looked at the professor.
    Stern smiled. “A secret I’ve kept to myself, but now it’s time you all knew. Remember I told you last week I’d stretched our budget to pay for cheap hotel rooms in Cairo and a meal for all the crew after we’d finished our work here? Well, it’s going to be rather better than that. What work remains to be done at Sakkara will be completed by the Ministry of Antiquities, of course, but they’ve judged our dig to be a complete success, and a party’s been organized at the residence of the American ambassador. It’s well known he has a keen interest in archeology, and he’s insisted on hosting a gala evening in our honor. There’s to be a splendid buffet meal, quite a few distinguished people have been invited, and from what I hear, the ambassador’s even arranged a dance band. All very kind of him, I thought.”
    â€œWell, good for us,” Halder said, more cheerfully.
    â€œThat’s wonderful news, Papa,” Rachel said. “Isn’t it, Harry?”
    â€œBest I’ve heard in a long time.”
    â€œI thought it might cheer you up.” The professor rolled up his sleeves. “Now, let’s get the equipment up the shaft and packed away, and we can all relax.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    The sun was going down, casting a tangerine light over the desert. Dinner had been served by the Bedouin cooks—kofta, saffron rice, and fresh bread—and because it was their last night under canvas, Professor Stern provided a large quantity of Egyptian beer and wine at his own expense.
    They sat around the campfire, but there was little talk of the war, because nobody in the team wanted politics to intrude. One of the Frenchmen played his accordion, accompanied by two young Englishmen with guitars, everyone joining in with the kind of gusto only young people could muster, and by the time the talking and singing was done it was almost midnight, the embers were dying, and people started drifting back to their tents.
    Halder was a little drunk as he produced three more bottles of beer, and with a grin handed one each to Rachel and Weaver. “I thought I’d keep us a nightcap. How about we say our last goodnight to Zoser?”
    â€œWhy not,” Rachel agreed, and the three of them strolled over to Zoser’s Step pyramid, in high spirits after the alcohol they’d consumed, Weaver carrying a kerosene lamp to light the way. They sat on the stone blocks at the base, as they’d done almost every night the entire summer, still awed by the beauty and vastness of the five-thousand-year-old tomb. “So this is it,” said Halder with genuine sadness. “Our last night at Sakkara.”
    Rachel was downhearted. “I hate the thought of leaving. It’s been such a wonderful time here, and great fun.” She looked at them both. “And it’s all been because of you, Jack, and you, Harry. You’ve helped make it the most memorable time of my life. I want to thank you for that.”
    Halder said, “Remember that photograph Harry took? The one of the three of us together?”
    â€œOf course. Why?”
    Halder took a swig from his bottle and gave a mischievous grin. “You know, I’ve been thinking. We need more than a photograph to commemorate our summer together. Something that will last for centuries.”
    â€œWhat exactly do you mean, Jack?” Weaver asked.
    Halder stood, unsteady on his feet. “Wait here.”
    He took the kerosene lamp, ambled over to one of the tents occupied by the Egyptian workmen, and came back after a while carrying a tattered canvas bag.
    Weaver said, “What the devil are you up to, Jack?”
    â€œHave patience. No speaking, please. Not a word, or you’ll distract me. And no looking until I tell you.”
    He moved a distance away, farther along the