“And what is the nature of your work on the lake?” LeBlanc said when he was through. “We emerged from our cave one day and voilal The submersible had appeared like magic.”

"I'm an archaeologist with the Sorbonne. The National Under

water and Marine Agency was kind enough to provide a vessel for my research. We traveled up the river that runs into Lac du Dormeur. I hope to find evidence of old Amber Route trading posts under the waters of the lake."

“Fascinating! Have you come across anything of interest?” “Yes. That's why I'm anxious to get back to the project as soon as possible. Could you tell me why my services are so urgently required?”

“We found a body frozen in the ice.” “A body?”

“We think it is the corpse of a man.”

“Like the Ice Man?” she said, recalling the mummified body of a Neolithic huntsman found in the Alps some years earlier.

LeBlanc shook his head. “We believe this poor fellow is of more recent origin. At first we thought he was a climber who had fallen into a crevasse.”

“What made you change your mind?” “You'll have to see.”

“Please don't play games with me, Monsieur LeBlanc,” Skye snapped. “My specialty is ancient arms and armor, not old bodies. Why am I being called into this?”

“My apologies, mademoiselle. Monsieur Renaud has asked us not to say anything.”

Skye's mouth dropped open. “Renaud? From the state archaeological board?”

“One and the same, mademoiselle. He arrived hours after we notified the authorities of the discovery and has put himself in charge. You know him?”

“Oh yes, I know him.” She apologized to LeBlanc for jumping down his throat and sat back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. I know him very well, she thought.

Auguste Renaud was a professor of anthropology at the Sorbonne.

He spent little time in teaching, which was a godsend for the students, who despised him, and instead devoted his energy to playing politics. He had built up a cadre of cronies, and with his connections he had risen to a place in the state's archaeological establishment, where he used his influence to reward and punish. He had stymied several of Skye's projects, hinting that they could be put on a fast track if she would sleep with him. Skye had told him she would rather sleep with a roach.

LeBlanc parked the Citroen and led Skye to the tunnel entrance. He scrambled into the entry culvert and, after a moment's hesitation, she followed him to the main tunnel. LeBlanc fitted Skye out with a hard hat and headlamp and they began walking. Five minutes later, they were at the living quarters. LeBlanc used a telephone to call ahead to let the lab know that they were on their way. Then they started off on their half-hour trek.

As they hiked through the tunnel, their footsteps echoed off the dripping walls. Skye glanced around at their damp surroundings and said, “This is like the inside of a wet boot.”