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motion. He relaxed back in his seat, breathing out the excess nitrogen in his bloodstream and feeling his body recoup its strength after the dive. He was exhausted, but elated. He was itching to reach their destination, to discover what Hiebermeyer had been badgering him to see for months now in his excavation in the Egyptian desert.
    “Check out that island.” Costas gestured at a barren, rugged outcrop in the sea below them, about two kilometers across and rising to a peak several hundred meters high, the rock scorched white and seemingly devoid of vegetation. It looked like a place of extremes, unable to support life.
    “That’s Zabargad, known as St. John’s Island,” Jack said. “The ancient Greeks called it Topazios, the Island of Topaz.”
    “I can see rock tailings, old mine workings, around the edge of the mountain,” Costas said.
    “It was the only ancient source of peridot, the translucent green gem also called olivine,” Jack said. “The island’s a minerologist’s dream, an upthrusting of the earth’s crust. The Chinese revered peridot because it’s like jade, a sacred stone. They thought it had healing qualities. The best gems were the treasures of emperors.”
    “Was it mined by convicts?” Costas asked.
    “You’ve got it. The mother of all penal colonies,” Jack said. “To most of the prisoners here, this was the end of the earth.”
    Costas took a deep breath. “It reminds me of Alcatraz.”
    “A longer swim here than San Francisco Bay, and a few more sharks.”
    “Did anyone ever escape?”
    “Before I try to answer that, look at this.” Jack reached into his front pocket and took out a small envelope. He passed it to Costas, who tipped out the object inside onto his palm. It was the gold coin Jack had picked up on the seabed, glistening and perfect, as if it had come straight from the mint.
    “Jack…”
    “I borrowed it. A sample. I had to have something to show Maurice. Ever since we were schoolboys he’s been telling me that nothing equals the treasure from Egyptian tombs.”
    “Dr. Jack Howard, the world’s premier maritime archaeologist, loots his own site. What will the Egyptian authorities say when I tell them?”
    “The authorities? You mean Herr Professor Dr. Maurice Hiebermeyer, the greatest living Egyptologist? He’ll probably give me a pitying look and show me a jewel-encrusted mummy.”
    “I thought you guys only liked bits of broken pot.” Costas grinned, and held the coin up carefully between two fingers. “Okay, so why show me this now?”
    “The portrait on the obverse is Augustus, the first Roman emperor. Now check out the reverse.”
    Costas turned the coin over. Jack saw a shield in the middle, a standard on either side. The standard on the right was topped by an orb, signifying Rome’s domination over the world. The one on the left had an aquila , the sacred eagle that legionaries would fight to the death to protect. They were the signa militaria , the Roman legionary standards. Jack pointed to the inscription in the middle. “Right. Now read out the words.”
    Costas squinted. “Signis Receptis.”
    “That means ‘Standards returned.’ This coin was one of Augustus’ prized issues, about 19 BC, only a few years after he became emperor. Augustus was consolidating the empire, following decades of civil war. His son Tiberius had just concluded a peace treaty with the Parthians, who ruled the area of Iran and Iraq. They agreed to return the standards that had been taken from defeated Roman legions years before. Augustus treated the return as a personal triumph, and had them paraded through Rome. It was a huge propaganda score for him, though too late to help the men who had fought under those standards and been unlucky enough not to die on the battlefield.”
    “What does this have to do with convicts?”
    “Backtrack to 53 BC. Rome is still a republic, ruled by the triumvirate of Julius Caesar, Pompey and Crassus. Already things are falling