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contingency plan after the 1991 invasion. The curators moved most of the artifacts to safe rooms known only to the five most senior museum officers.”

    “That’s wonderful, Professor!”

    Nasir’s sunny mood was short-lived. He tugged fretfully at his beard. “I wish the rest of the news were as good,” he said with a doleful note in his voice. “Other parts of the museum did not fare as well. The thieves looted the greatest treasures of Mesopotamia. They took the sacred vase and the mask of Warka, the Bassetki statue, the ivory of the lioness attacking the Nubian, and the twin copper bulls.”

    “Those objects are priceless!”

    “Unlike the petty thieves we chased out of the museum, the people who removed the more-valuable antiquities were sophisticated. They bypassed the Black Obelisk, for instance.”

    “They must have known that the original is in the Louvre.”

    Nasir’s lips tightened in a grim smile. “They didn’t touch
any
copies. They were very organized and selective. Come, I’ll show you.”

    Nasir led the way to the aboveground storage rooms. The shelves lining the walls were empty. Dozens of jars, vessels, and shards littered the floor. Carina kicked away an army uniform.

    “The Republican Guards spent time here as well,” she said. “Any idea of how much is missing?”

    “It will take years to assess the loss. I’m estimating around three thousand or so pieces gone. I wish I could say that was the worst of it.”

    They walked into a gallery that displayed Roman antiquities. The professor pushed aside a corner shelf to reveal a hidden door whose glass paneling had been smashed and steel grate bent back. He fumbled in his pocket for a candle and a cigarette lighter. They descended the narrow set of stairs to metal doors that were wide-open, with no sign of forced entry. A wall sealed the space beyond the door. The concrete bricks had been pried away to make a large opening.

    They climbed through the opening into a hot and airless room. An acrid stench assaulted their nostrils. Footprints on the dusty floor had been cordoned off with yellow tape placed at the crime scene by a team of investigators.

    Carina glanced around. “Where are we?”

    “The basement storage area. There are five rooms down here. Few people in the museum even know this place exists. That’s why we thought the collection was safe. We were wrong, as you can see.”

    He moved the candle in an arc. Its yellow light fell upon dozens of plastic fishing boxes thrown willy-nilly around the room.

    “I’ve never seen such absolute chaos,” Carina whispered.

    “The boxes held cylinder seals, beads, coins, glass bottles, amulets, and jewelry. Thousands of items are missing.” He brought the candle over to dozens of larger plastic boxes that lined the walls. “They didn’t bother with these. Apparently, they knew they were empty.”

    Corporal O’Leary surveyed the wreckage with a street fighter’s eye for entrances and exits. “If you don’t mind my asking sir, how’d they know how to find this place?”

    Nasir’s heavy features drooped and he gave a glum nod of his head. “You Americans aren’t the only ones who have reason to be embarrassed. We suspect someone on our staff with intimate knowledge of the museum alerted the thieves to this room. We have fingerprinted our staff, except for the head of security, who has not come back to reclaim his job.”

    “I was wondering why I didn’t see any evidence of the door being forced,” Carina said.

    “The thieves came into the basement the same way we did, but they had forgotten torches or never expected they would need them.” He picked up a piece of burned rubber foam. “They used this material from upstairs for torchlight. The stuff burns quickly and the fumes would have been terrible. We found a set of keys on the floor. They probably dropped the keys and couldn’t find them. They missed thirty cabinets with our best cylinder seals and tens of