“It must have been taken from the museum at the same time as the other loot. Professor Nassir, the director of the museum, remembered the statue as being stored in the basement. He considered it a curiosity.”

“In what way?”

“It appears to be a Phoenician sailor, but it’s carrying a compass. I’m told there is no evidence that the Phoenicians had the compass.”

“That’s right. The Chinese get credit for the compass.”

“Professor Nassir figured it might have been a copy of the type of trade goods that the Phoenicians sold. Sort of like the classic statues that are sold as souvenirs in Egypt or Greece.”

“Did your professor friend know where the statue was found?”

“It came from a Hittite site excavation around BlackMountain in southeastern Syria back in the 1970s. It found its way to Baghdad where its authenticity came into question. I’ve talked to a National Geographic photographer who was on the site.”

“Strange that it would suddenly be of interest to thieves, and later to hijackers, after sitting in a museum basement all that time.”

“Only a few people ever knew about it, which was why I was so surprised when Mr. Saxon mentioned it to me at the Iraqi embassy reception.”

Austin’s ears perked up at the name. “Not Anthony Saxon?”

“Yes. He seemed quite knowledgeable about the statue. Do you know him?”

“I’ve read his books and attended a lecture he gave. He’s an adventurer and writer with an unconventional views of history not accepted by mainstream scientists.”

“Could he have had anything to do with the hijacking?”

“I can’t picture it. But it would be worth learning why he is so interested in the statue. I’d be interested in meeting the Navigator myself.”

“I’m inviting a select few to view the statue. It’s at a Smithsonian warehouse in Maryland. Would you like to come tomorrow morning?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

She drained the last of her limoncello. “This has been a wonderful evening.”

“I think I hear a ‘but’ in your voice.”

She laughed. “Sorry. I’d love to stay, but I have much work to do on the tour.”

“I’m completely heartbroken, but I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A thought seemed to occur to her. “I’m going to try to set up a meeting with the National Geographic photographer. He lives in Virginia. Would you like to go along?”

“I’m officially on sick leave, but a ride in the country would do wonders for the healing process.”

She rose from the chair. “Thank you so much, Kurt. For everything.”

“My pleasure, Carina.” He walked outside to her car. Austin expected to receive the customary European buss on both cheeks, which was what happened. But she also gave him a warm and lingering kiss on the lips. She tossed a smile over her shoulder, got in the car, and drove off.