A Perfect Fit Read Online Free PDF Page A

squatty man with a hooked nose greeted him. “I am Taher.”
    “Thanks for helping on such short notice, Taher.”
    “When HAT calls, we answer.” Irritation at the expedited meeting sizzled in the curator’s black eyes. “After all, we are here to assist in the preservation of our ancient treasures in any way we can.”
    “This is my partner, Dr. Kader.” Lawrence removed the potsherd from his pocket and held out the baggie. Magdalena’s cheeks bloomed with color. Had he said something wrong? “Ever seen anything like this, Taher?”
    He backed away. “No.”
    Lawrence waved the shard in the direction of the display cases. “No vases or mosaics with swimmers?”
    “I’m afraid not.” Taher wrung his hands. “Perhaps there are maker’s marks on the back of the piece?”
    Lawrence turned the potsherd. “Don’t see anything.”
    “Then you will have your work cut out for you, Dr. Hastings.”
    “I’m thinking you know a little more about third-century Roman pottery than you’re saying, Taher.” Magdalena put into words exactly what Lawrence had been thinking.
    “You’re welcome to visit our Room of the Amphoras. It houses containers of all shapes and sizes used in the business of sea transport. This water image could have come from any number of the ports that ring the Mediterranean.”
    “But it didn’t, did it?” Magdalena said insistently.
    The curator ignored her and spoke directly to him. “Dr. Hastings, my duties are many today. You must excuse—”
    “Taher, please, just point us in the right direction.” Lawrence returned the shard to his pocket.
    “We’ll do the rest,” Magdalena added.
    The nervous curator glanced about as if he feared someone might overhear their conversation. “Come.”
    He led them past several glass cases filled with pottery, weapons, and jewelry, some of it dating back to the Punic Wars. Along the museum’s white walls were intricate tile mosaics depicting the city’s bloody history from the Roman period all the way to the emergence of Christianity.
    Once they reached the curator’s office, the stout little man paused outside the door. “I have never told anyone what I am about to tell you.” Taher led them inside, closed the door, then indicated they should have a seat. “I have seen this image only one other time.”
    “Where?”
    “In a book.”
    “Could you be a bit more specific?” Magdalena asked.
    Taher shifted as if the beautiful doctor was triaging him on the spot. He cleared his throat. “In the southern Berber regions, a place where hot winds swirl the desert sands into mountains ten stories high, only the nomads survive. They are a sun-leathered people who keep to themselves. But every so often, one of their legends escapes by way of a brief encounter with an unexpected traveler. I thought the story in the book to be one of their legends. Nothing more.”
    “Taher, we’re kinda pressed for time.” Lawrence pulled the shard out of his pocket again. “Do you know this little guy or not?”
    He gave a slight nod. “He is from the Cave of the Swimmers.”
    “Almásy’s cave?” Magdalena asked.
    Lawrence looked at her, surprised. “You know of the Hungarian and his book?”
    “Yes,” she said. “ The Unknown Sahara . I haven’t read it, but I know Almásy was an explorer who went in search of a lost oasis and found some Neolithic rock art instead.” She pointed at the shard. “So this is one of Almásy’s mythical swimmers?”
    Lawrence wondered what other random bits of information were tucked beneath that glorious head of hair. “Your brain must never stop.”
    Taher interrupted. “You must not keep the swimmer, Dr. Hastings.”
    Lawrence remembered the insistent expression on Magdalena’s face when she’d returned the shard to him at the hospital. “So I’ve been told.” He’d thought she was just being protective of Carthaginian artifacts. Maybe she’d been afraid. He reached for her hand and twined his fingers