Blowback

Yet another African connection, Harvath thought to himself, though at this point he needed no further convincing that the artifacts were connected to Hannibal. “What about the stones used for each of the snakes’ heads?”

“Rather unimpressive milk opals. They can be found all over the world.”

“Any significance there?”

“I don’t know, though they certainly aren’t being used as talismans in this instance.”

Harvath tilted the breastplate he was holding in the light. “Why not?”

“Amethysts,” said Davidson, “are revered for offering protection. But opals, on the other hand, are traditionally known to bring bad luck. The combination of the two stones seems to send a mixed message. Protect me, yet bring me bad luck.”

“Or from a soldier’s perspective,” offered Jillian, “they could mean Protect me from the bad luck I am bringing upon my enemy.”

Davidson set her breastplate down thoughtfully. “That’s also a possibility, but if these are Azemiops feae vipers, why would the Carthaginians depict them on their breastplates at all? What’s the purpose? From what my husband tells me, Azemiops feae is an East Asian viper. Armies in the Mediterranean never would have seen one, much less have known how deadly they were. If these breastplates were intended to inflict some sort of psychological damage, why not depict cobras, which were much feared and much better known? Or better yet, since we’re very likely talking about the Carthaginians here, why not use obviously ferocious creatures from their part of the world like crocodiles, rhinos, or even lions?”

“If these are in fact representations of Azemiops feae vipers,” replied Jillian, “then they must have been very significant to the men who were wearing the breastplates.”

“I’d have to concur,” replied Davidson. “But significant how? And why?”

Jillian looked up from the table and caught the look in Harvath’s eye. They were both thinking the same thing. It was time to get to the bottom of things. “Dr. Davidson, we need to know who sent you these artifacts,” said Jillian.

“Why?” she asked incredulously.

“Because people’s lives may depend on it,” stated Harvath.

“People’s lives may depend on a table full of military relics over two thousand years old?”

“This goes much deeper than military relics,” said Jillian.

“How?”

“We’re not at liberty to share that with you.”

“Mr. Guerin,” said Davidson as she used Harvath’s alias, “ don’t insult my intelligence. Any lives concerned with what I am doing here have long since passed. If you’d like to tell me the real reason we’re talking, maybe then we can help each other out. Are you suggesting that these relics are connected to some sort of crime? If so, I’d like to know how a respected paleopathologist like Vanessa Whitcomb fits into all of this.”

“We can appreciate that you have questions of your own,” said Jillian as she tried to take control of the conversation and prevent things from turning too adversarial. She was a scientist herself and understood the way Davidson’s mind worked. She wouldn’t respond well to intimidation, and Harvath looked all too ready to jump into his “bad cop” uniform. It was obvious what her role was going to have to be. “We, on the other hand, need you to appreciate that we’re limited in what we can tell you.”

Davidson walked over to her desk, folded her arms across her chest, and sat down on its edge. She said, ”Why don’t you start with what you can tell me. Because until you do, I’m not sharing anything else.”

“Dr. Davidson, you’re obviously an intelligent woman-” began Harvath.

“Don’t try to flatter me, Mr. Guerin,” she shot back.

“Believe me, flattery is the least of my intentions, “He responded. “I’m trying to be nice, so why don’t you cooperate and listen to what I have to say? Your employer, Sotheby’s, has been involved in multiple cases of fraud and trafficking in stolen and otherwise illegally tainted merchandise over the years.”

“How dare you?” snapped Davidson. “Sotheby’s has never knowingly participated in any illegal activity whatsoever.”

“Dr. Davidson, not only do I not care, but the general public at large is not going to care either when this story breaks. I guarantee you it will be the end of Sotheby’s. A stolen painting, a forged diary, they’re nothing in this day and age compared with colluding and providing material aid to terrorists.”

It was preposterous. Davidson couldn’t believe her ears. “Terrorists? That’s how they’re making their money now, by trafficking in relics over two thousand years old? Are you serious?” She laughed.

“Deadly serious,” replied Harvath.

“I don’t think you are. If you were, you wouldn’t be speaking to me. You’d be speaking to someone else here with a lot more power than I have.”

“You’re the one studying these for the client,” said Harvath.

“Mr. Guerin, you’re not only wasting your time, you’re wasting mine, and I want you to leave.”