"So?” he said. “When you'll be here? Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Gideon laughed. “We have to get our things organized, get tourist cards-"

"You can't do that this afternoon?"

"This afternoon is already taken up.” Gideon rubbed the small of Julie's back and smiled up at her. The fact that he was desperate to be on a dig hardly meant that he had lost all sense of proportion. “Besides,” he added firmly, “there's a monograph I want to finish up. We'll be there at the end of the week. Friday. How's that?"

A fractional hesitation. “Friday? You couldn't make it a little sooner?"

"Like when?"

"Like tomorrow?"

"What's the rush, Abe? The bones will still be there Friday."

"It's not just the bones. Something's bothering me here. I need your opinion."

"Well…"

"Also,” Abe said with the singsong wheedle that meant the clincher was on its way, “we turned up some new Mayan written material. Garrison from Tulane rushed down here to work on the translation, and she's almost finished. I asked her to hold off on her presentation so you could be here for it, but she has to go back the day after tomorrow. I don't have to tell you it's a historic thing, but, of course, if you can't make it, you can't make it."

Gideon was silent.

"Of course it's only a few leaves, post-Conquest,” Abe pressed on, “but still, something like this doesn't happen every day."

Or every year, or every decade. Well, Gideon could always take the monograph along. “Okay,” he said, “I'm convinced. We'll be there tomorrow."

"Good. Wonderful. There's funding to pay your fare-Julie's too, if she's willing to do a little work-and we'll put you up at the hotel. Meals too. A salary I can't come up with. I'm not getting paid, why should you?"

"No problem.” Gideon was more than satisfied. He'd have paid their own way if he'd had to. “Abe, tell me, what's bothering you there?"