Page 13 of Troy Story
Dusty and Emilia were the last to join them since they’d been flirting with a performer dressed like the Greek god Apollo. When Dusty saw Dr. Özgen, she beamed at him. “Kerim. It’ssogood to see you.”
How was it that Dusty was on a first-name basis with him? Then again, she was on a first-name basis with a lot of prominent archaeologists, thanks to her parents. But the way Kerim drew her into a hug made Stuart suspect their connection was personal rather than professional.
“Miss Danforth,” he said. “Always a pleasure.”
After hugging him for a long beat, she turned to the others. “Kerim is friends with the director of the Institute of Nautical Archaeology in Bodrum. When I was working there, Kerim sailed down to Bodrum and spent a few weeks helping us with the project.”
Sailed?The guy owned a boat?
As the students introduced themselves, Stuart grappled with an unexpected surge of jealousy. Had Dusty hooked up with Kerim when she’d been in Bodrum? Though the Turkish professor was in his late thirties, she’d gotten involved with older men before.
Don’t dwell on it. You can’t lose focus now.
“Are you all ready to walk through the ruins?” Kerim asked. “I’d be happy to lead you, unless Dr. Carlson would like that honor.”
His gracious tone made Stuart feel like a dick for letting envy cloud his emotions. “Call me Stuart, please. You’re welcome to lead us. I’ll gladly defer to your expertise.”
A wide wooden boardwalk stretched around the perimeter of the seventy-four-acre site, making for an easy stroll. Though the sun was out in full force, a brisk breeze eased the heat, and the abundance of oak and olive trees provided ample shade. At each stopping point, tourists clumped together in groups, listening to their guides.
As they walked, Kerim pointed out the parts of the site Stuart had read about—the massive stone walls, the remains of fortified towers, the paved ramp near the eastern entrance, and the northeast bastion of the citadel. Based on the archaeological record, the citadel would have housed Troy’s palatial complex.
They paused at a giant trench gouged into the hilltop. Over fifty feet deep, it revealed seven layers of occupation, going back over five thousand years. Known as “Schliemann’s trench,” it was named after Heinrich Schliemann, the amateur archaeologist credited with discovering Troy in the 1870s.
Kerim turned to Stuart. “Why don’t you take it from here? I don’t want to dominate our tour.”
Before Stuart could launch into his spiel, Mort whipped out his phone. “Hang on. I’d like to record this, if I may.”
Stuart straightened up and smiled at the older man. “Go ahead. Given your fascination with archaeology, I assume you’ve heard of Schliemann’s exploits?”
“But of course,” Mort said. “Even if his practices were somewhat questionable, he’s the one who put this site on the map.”
“True, although the term ‘questionable’ might be a little generous.” Stuart began with an overview, but just when he was about to share the story of “Priam’s Treasure”—a priceless cache of gold and silver artifacts unearthed by Schliemann—a hand clapped him on the back. Hard.
“I’ll take it from here,” a gravelly voice said.
Fighting back his trepidation, Stuart turned to face his boss, Dr. Rutherford Hughes. Up close, the man was intimidating, tall and barrel-chested, with a bushy gray beard and a face weathered by decades spent outdoors. At the sight of him, Mort lit up with a jubilant smile, as though in the presence of a celebrity.
“Rutherford,” Kerim acknowledged him with a terse nod. “Welcome back.”
Dr. Hughes’ lip curled up in a sneer. “Kerim. You’re not working with the Germans anymore? I hope we can trust you.”
Kerim folded his arms across his chest. “As long as you behave professionally, there should be nothing to worry about.”
“Are you telling me how to behave? I’ve got at least twenty years of experience on you. I was digging here when you were still a schoolboy.”
As the two men stared each other down, Stuart sought to defuse the tension. “Isn’t it great that we’re all together? Finally getting to work at Troy? I was just telling the group about Schliemann’s discoveries, but if you want—”
“What I want is to highlight the important parts of the site, like the areasIexcavated back when I was in charge of this entire operation.” With a sweeping motion, Dr. Hughes gestured for the group to join him. “Let’s go.”
As he led the way, followed by Kerim and the students, unease crawled up Stuart’s spine. Should he have waited for his boss before leaving this morning? Had the professor arrived at the field house and erupted in a rage when he found it empty?
Dusty sidled up to him and spoke in a hushed tone. “Hey. You have your stressed face on. Don’t worry about Hughes.”
“I think I screwed up. He looked pissed that I started without him, but I emailed him the itinerary four days ago. He’s the one that showed up three hours late.”
“He’s probably more pissed at Kerim than at anyone else. Like, he regards him as a traitor because he’s been working with the Germans. Which is ridiculous because Kerim is one of the nicest, most courteous professionals I’ve ever met.” She tugged on Stuart’s arm, pulling him forward. “Come on, let’s see what pearls of wisdom old Hughes has to dispense.”
Though Dusty’s words eased a little of his insecurity, Stuart couldn’t regain his earlier enthusiasm. Nor could he ignore the glowing way Dusty had described Kerim.
