Thurston had worked on the ice for a while longer before Renaud showed up and clapped his hands for attention. “We must stop for now. We have visitors.”

Excited voices echoed along the passageway. A moment later, a trio of men carrying video and still cameras and notebooks burst into the cave. Except for a tall man, who held politely back, they noisily jostled each other and bumped shoulders in their zest to film the body.

Skye grabbed Renaud by the sleeve and pulled him aside. “What are these reporters doing here?” she demanded.

He looked down his long thin nose. “/ invited them. They are part of a press pool chosen by lot to cover this great discovery.”

“You don't even know what this discovery is,” she said with unveiled contempt in her voice. “And you just lectured us against contaminating the site.”

He dismissed her protest with an airy wave of his hand. “It's important to let the world know about this wonderful find.” Renaud raised his voice to gain the reporters' attention. “I'll answer your questions about the mummy as soon as we move outside the tomb,” Renaud said, leading the way out of the cave. Skye simmered with anger.

“Jeezus!” said Rawlins. “Mummy. Tomb. He's making himself sound like he just found King Tut.”

The photographers took another battery of shots and moved out of the chamber, except for the tall man. He was around six and a half feet tall, his face was a pasty white and he had a muscular build that matched his height. A camera hung around his neck and slung from his shoulder was a large canvas gear bag. He stared impassively at the body for a moment, and then he followed after the others.

“I overheard what you said to Renaud,” Thurston said to Skye. “The site will start freezing up again soon and maybe that will protect it.”

“Good. Let's see what that idiot is cooking up in the meantime.”

They hurried from the cave and down the ladder and the wooden stairs to the main tunnel. Renaud stood outside a lab building, holding the strongbox high above his head.

“What's in it?” a reporter called out.

“We don't know. We will have to open it under controlled circumstances so as not to damage the contents.”

He spun around on his heel so everyone could get a shot. The big man with the camera around his neck failed to take advantage of the photo op, however. Instead, he shouldered his way past the others, ignored the murmurs of protest from his fellow reporters and planted himself directly in front of Renaud.

“Give the box to me,” he said in an impassive tone, extending his large hand.

Renaud looked startled. Then, thinking the man was joking, decided to play along with the game. He grinned and hugged the box tightly to his chest. “Not on your life,” he said.

“No,” the man said, without raising his voice. “Not on your life!”