I shouted.
I banged the door again and again.
Then it opened. ‘I told you, no visitors,’ said the friendly Mr Ginger.
Simon held up his ID card. ‘I am entitled to come in and inspect this dig. I’m a professor with the Hebrew University. I gave a reference to Max Kaiser to enable him to get on this dig. I need to see where he was working, because of what has happened. These people are my colleagues.’ He gestured towards us.
Ginger threw his hands in the air. ‘We’ve no time to give tours.’
‘We won’t be long. If I have to come back with my friend from the Antiquities Authority, it will take us a lot longer. He is a stickler for sites being run properly.’
Ginger frowned. ‘You gave Max his reference?’ he said. Simon nodded.
A look of recognition replaced the suspicion.
‘Are you working on a red heifer project?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘Max spoke about you.’
Simon smiled, thinly. ‘I don’t want to have to come back. You know who I am. Let us in.’
Ginger sighed. ‘Okay, come in. But your visit will have to be quick.’
He stood aside.
I went in first. Isabel followed me. Ginger shouted at us not to touch anything.
‘Be very careful,’ he said. ‘Visitors are not covered by any insurance.’ His words echoed through the building.
‘And don’t take any pictures. And I want a word with you.’ I looked back. He’d put a hand up to stop Simon in the doorway.
‘Have a look around,’ called Simon. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
We were inside. He’d done it. There was a muffled throbbing coming from somewhere below. A stairwell beckoned to us from the other side of the large dusty room we were in. One part of it led down. The other part led up. Describing the room as dusty would be a bit of an understatement.
It was dusty in the way a sandpit is dusty. There were drifts of sand and cobwebs in each corner, and a thick layer of it on the floor with boot marks and channels in it. There was a heap of dust near the stairs too, as if that section had been swept down from the upstairs rooms.
Had the house been abandoned for decades? It certainly looked like it. We headed down the stairs.
The room below was darker, full of cobwebs. It had no stairs going down, just a three-foot-wide hole in the floor. There was light streaming from the hole. The throbbing noise was coming from it. I looked down into it. Isabel was behind me. I couldn’t hear Ginger and Simon talking anymore. I could hear other voices, European voices. Someone was speaking German down there. The replying voice was German too. Who the hell was on this dig?
A shiny steel ladder led down into the hole. I took hold of it and swung myself onto it.
‘This is one time where I don’t think “ladies first” holds.’
I looked down.
I could see shiny equipment, a portable generator and some white airtight plastic boxes on the stone floor beneath. There was another hole of a similar size in the floor below us too.
‘You don’t have to come down if you don’t want to.’
‘Why don’t you try to stop me?’ said Isabel.
There was no polite answer to that.
At the bottom of the ladder the air felt heavy. The generator was running, and a red pipe, about an inch thick, ran out of it and down into the next hole. The inside of my mouth was coated in gritty dust. The walls on this level were ancient foot-square stone blocks. There was no plaster on them, as there was on the walls up above.
The voices had stopped talking. Whoever was down below had probably heard us coming.
I had a look around. There was a knee-high pile of broken, pale ancient wood in one corner. This room was a different shape to the ones above. It faced in a different direction, diagonal to those above, as if the building it had been part of had faced a different way. There was an oily scent coming from the pump too. And the noise from it was a lot louder now we were on the same floor as it.
The hole going down was in the far corner here. I
I banged the door again and again.
Then it opened. ‘I told you, no visitors,’ said the friendly Mr Ginger.
Simon held up his ID card. ‘I am entitled to come in and inspect this dig. I’m a professor with the Hebrew University. I gave a reference to Max Kaiser to enable him to get on this dig. I need to see where he was working, because of what has happened. These people are my colleagues.’ He gestured towards us.
Ginger threw his hands in the air. ‘We’ve no time to give tours.’
‘We won’t be long. If I have to come back with my friend from the Antiquities Authority, it will take us a lot longer. He is a stickler for sites being run properly.’
Ginger frowned. ‘You gave Max his reference?’ he said. Simon nodded.
A look of recognition replaced the suspicion.
‘Are you working on a red heifer project?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘Max spoke about you.’
Simon smiled, thinly. ‘I don’t want to have to come back. You know who I am. Let us in.’
Ginger sighed. ‘Okay, come in. But your visit will have to be quick.’
He stood aside.
I went in first. Isabel followed me. Ginger shouted at us not to touch anything.
‘Be very careful,’ he said. ‘Visitors are not covered by any insurance.’ His words echoed through the building.
‘And don’t take any pictures. And I want a word with you.’ I looked back. He’d put a hand up to stop Simon in the doorway.
‘Have a look around,’ called Simon. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
We were inside. He’d done it. There was a muffled throbbing coming from somewhere below. A stairwell beckoned to us from the other side of the large dusty room we were in. One part of it led down. The other part led up. Describing the room as dusty would be a bit of an understatement.
It was dusty in the way a sandpit is dusty. There were drifts of sand and cobwebs in each corner, and a thick layer of it on the floor with boot marks and channels in it. There was a heap of dust near the stairs too, as if that section had been swept down from the upstairs rooms.
Had the house been abandoned for decades? It certainly looked like it. We headed down the stairs.
The room below was darker, full of cobwebs. It had no stairs going down, just a three-foot-wide hole in the floor. There was light streaming from the hole. The throbbing noise was coming from it. I looked down into it. Isabel was behind me. I couldn’t hear Ginger and Simon talking anymore. I could hear other voices, European voices. Someone was speaking German down there. The replying voice was German too. Who the hell was on this dig?
A shiny steel ladder led down into the hole. I took hold of it and swung myself onto it.
‘This is one time where I don’t think “ladies first” holds.’
I looked down.
I could see shiny equipment, a portable generator and some white airtight plastic boxes on the stone floor beneath. There was another hole of a similar size in the floor below us too.
‘You don’t have to come down if you don’t want to.’
‘Why don’t you try to stop me?’ said Isabel.
There was no polite answer to that.
At the bottom of the ladder the air felt heavy. The generator was running, and a red pipe, about an inch thick, ran out of it and down into the next hole. The inside of my mouth was coated in gritty dust. The walls on this level were ancient foot-square stone blocks. There was no plaster on them, as there was on the walls up above.
The voices had stopped talking. Whoever was down below had probably heard us coming.
I had a look around. There was a knee-high pile of broken, pale ancient wood in one corner. This room was a different shape to the ones above. It faced in a different direction, diagonal to those above, as if the building it had been part of had faced a different way. There was an oily scent coming from the pump too. And the noise from it was a lot louder now we were on the same floor as it.
The hole going down was in the far corner here. I
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