“Except for a gnawed bone here and there, and whatever was carried off by the rats,” Haddon said, “but what’s that among friends?”

TJ eked out a smile. “Well, actually, I think the rats got to him back in the Fifth Dynasty. They usually don’t find 4,400-year-old bones very appetizing.”

“I don’t find any of this very appetizing.”

“Sir,” Jerry put in, “you can rest assured that nothing like this will ever happen again. I’ll go over the security arrangements with a fine-tooth comb-”

What security arrangements would those be, TJ wondered.

“-and make whatever changes are necessary. I’ll clear them with you first.”

“Do,” Haddon said aridly, and to TJ: “Shall we return to the scene of the crime, Doctor?”

“Sure,” said TJ, but wasn’t this the scene of the crime?

Haddon picked up a femur and rubbed the dirt off with the heel of his hand. “Forty-three sixty,” he read aloud, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea what a laughingstock we’ll be if this gets out?”

TJ studied her toes.

Haddon dropped the bone back in the dust and wiped his hands on a handkerchief. “First,” he said, “I want this area scoured for every bit of bone that can be found. You do it; your husband wouldn’t know a metacarpal from a marshmallow. Then I want them cleaned and put back where they belong. And then I want this horrible enclosure torn down and its contents thrown away. I want it done immediately, is that understood? Have Mrs. Ebeid see to it.”

“Getting the garbage people to come out anytime soon is going to be a problem,” TJ said. “They’re-”

“Bury it, then. Dig a hole, shovel it in, and cover it over. Use the whatever-it’s-called.”

“Backhoe,” said TJ. “There’s a lot of stuff in here. It’d have to be a pretty big hole.”