Kathlyn Trent, Marcus Burton 01 - Valley of the Shadow by Kathryn Le Veque Page B

tent.
    “I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “After all this, now we get clearance to go? What did Abrahams have to say about this?”
    Debra Jo lifted her hands in resignation. “The directive came down from our illustrious department head himself. Ronnie Abrahams is sending us on to Israel. He sounded thrilled.”
    “But what about all of this?” Kathlyn wanted to know. “A week ago he made such a big deal out of this joint effort between UCPR and SCU on the greatest archaeological discovery of the century, and now he’s pulling us out? I just don’t understand it.”
    Debra Jo looked a bit uncomfortable. “He’s not pulling SCU out, Kat,” she said quietly. “He’s just pulling our team out, like he always does. He’s sending in Gary Crawford. Gary’s been on a dig in the Sinai. His area of emphasis is Egypt and the period surrounding the Exodus.  We’re the hit and run team, remember? Find ‘em and leave ‘em for the dirt bunnies to dig up.”
    “I know, I know.” The irony of all of this wasn’t lost on Kathlyn. “You know why the Israelis are doing this, don’t you? They know we were instrumental in Ay’s tomb. Now they want the same luck with the Ark, something they’re usually very protective about. Maybe they’ve realized that more publicity means more tourist dollars and they want the tourists all over Israel, pouring money into their economy. They want to capitalize on our fame, don’t you get it? They were most likely going to deny our permit requests until all this happened.”
    “I get it,” Debra Jo said. “But it doesn’t matter. We weren’t meant to stay here, anyway. So Abrahams wants us in Israel a week from tomorrow.”
    Kathlyn rolled her eyes. Her emotions were boiling along with the desert heat. Dressed in olive drab shorts that were too short for the conservative country of Egypt, she made quite a sight in her big boots, loose fitting shirt and ever-present duster.  Her long hair was gathered up into a sleek ponytail, acting like a dust cloth when it brushed up against the silty surfaces of the dig tents.
    She knew this moment was going to come but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. She’d known all along her stay here was temporary but she’d hoped to at least be around for a while to help with the cataloging and clearing of the tomb. It was odd how she felt a responsibility to this dig like nothing she had ever worked on before; she was usually a hit-and-run specialist, like Debra Jo said. Move in, find the site, move on and leave the serious digging to the field archaeologists. But with this dig, everything was so different, so unexpected. She didn’t want to leave at all, not when it was just getting interesting.
    “Well,” she finally stood up, brushing off the dust on her shins. “I’m not going to make any troop movements today. Marcus is getting ready to unseal the opening and I’m going to be right in the middle of it. Israel and Abrahams can wait.”
    Debra Jo followed her to the tent flap. “I know this dig has meant a lot to you. I’m sorry it’s gone this way.”
    Kathlyn shrugged. “We weren’t supposed to stay after the tomb was discovered so I suppose it’s going the way it needs to go. I was just hoping that Abrahams would let us stay on and help excavate the tomb, considering it is probably the greatest archaeological find of the twenty first century.”
    “But you’re not an Egyptologist,” Debra Jo said softly. “Crawford is. Burton is. But not you.”
    Kathlyn looked at her sharply. “I know what I am.” Frustration set in and she threw up her hands. “I’m a media archaeologist and nothing more. I’m a front man, a pretty face in front of the camera talking about things like digs and grids and radio carbon dating.  I run around and look important and search things out like some damn treasure hunter.  I’m nothing, Deb. Guys like Marcus, they’re everything.”
    Debra Jo knew where Kathlyn was coming from. It