A Thousand Tombs by Molly Greene Page B

could use you now.” Dr. Grayson’s eyes twinkled. “Was it boring?”
    “A little, but I liked it. When there was nothing to do, the curator would turn me loose in the archives. There were drawers and drawers of amazing old things that almost nobody got to see. There was an Egyptian mummy of a baby, and beaded moccasins from the Plains Indian tribes that were so beautiful it was hard to believe they were made for everyday wear. I loved looking at it all.”
    “What made you decide it wasn’t for you?”
    “Once I understood the process of unearthing some of these things, it didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t cut out to be the kind of person who could sit on a dig with a tiny brush and sweep away dirt, grain by grain, to reveal a wall or a skeleton. I didn’t have that kind of patience. My family probably knew the truth long before I did, but I was still discovering who I was. Some things don’t change.”
    Ellen laughed. “It can be deadly dull, that’s for sure. What did you do instead?”
    “I became a lawyer. That was a lot of tedium, too, so I moved on to private investigations.”
    Ellen’s brows went up and she glanced aside at Gen. “That must be more exciting, certainly.”
    “It has its moments.”
    “Is that how you got the eye?”
    Gen’s hand went to her face. “A moment I’d rather not repeat.”
    “What are you investigating today?”
    “I wanted to ask you about Italian cultural properties and the illicit trading of same.”
    “That’s a touchy subject for museums right now.”
    “Why is that?”
    They’d reached another door. Ellen Grayson pushed through, and they entered a room that was set up like a library. But instead of open shelves, it had rows and rows of wooden cabinets that were at least eight feet tall. Each side held a series of wide, shallow drawers.
    “Because many institutions have not been aboveboard about the artifacts they purchase.”
    “You mean they buy illegal stuff?”
    “Not always on purpose. Come into our lunch room and we’ll chat. Would you like coffee?” Dr. Grayson moved to a counter and pulled a mug from the overhead cupboard.
    Gen shook her head. “No thanks.” She took a seat while Dr. Grayson poured for herself, then sat down across from Gen.
    “Have you ever been to Italy?” Grayson asked.
    “Not yet. It’s on my bucket list, though.”
    “You’d love it. Italy is like one enormous museum. It contains half the locations designated by the United Nations as important world heritage sites. The countryside is dotted with hundreds of thousands of concealed tombs and entire villas that have been buried, and they’re filled with antiquities that provide a time capsule to the past. And not just the Romans. The Etruscans preceded them in central Italy. The Phoenicians had communities in Italy, and the Greeks were well-established in the south.
    “Each site represents a priceless opportunity for archaeologists to document the past. But for looters, these burial chambers are a way to earn an income. Their efforts are supported by an international smuggling industry that generates billions of dollars. In Lazio, the county that includes Rome, hundreds of Etruscan tombs have been defiled. In one small area alone, experts believe the looters have desecrated over a thousand tombs.”
    “And the grave robbers are called tombaroli .”
    “That’s right. Come with me and I’ll show you the type of priceless artifacts they find every day.” Dr. Grayson led the way into the cabinet aisles, then stopped and opened a waist-high drawer. Inside were metal implements and crockery and a small statue of a young male preparing to throw a ball.
    Dr. Grayson pointed. “This is a Greek ceremonial bowl. And that is a Roman drinking cup. All of these were purchased from state-owned Italian collections. We are very careful about that.”
    “If everybody knows this is going on, how is it allowed to continue?” Gen asked.
    “Italy has an unfortunate history