Layla’s own shadow.
She stopped at the front of Boris’s tent and waved the soldier off. He took up a post only a short distance away. As she stood there, the twilight deepening into full night, she realized music was coming from inside the tent.
The jazz was a surprise, filled with light and airy movement. In spite of herself, Layla smiled. So...Professor Lourds had something else in mind other than dinner.
She spoke loudly enough to be heard over the music. “Professor Glukov, it is Layla Teneen. I have come at your invitation.”
After a moment, the tent flaps opened, and Boris stuck his shaggy head out. “Ah, good evening, Director. So good of you to come.”
“The two of you still owe me a story, I believe.” Layla stepped into the tent.
“Indeed we do.” Boris waved her farther into the spacious tent.
Over the past three days, Layla had been dealing with the dead men and the media blitz that had settled on the dig after the announcement of the find was made. She’d had no time to speak with the professors about the events of that night.
Layla was amazed at the smell of food. She recognized the spicy scent of palao and qorma. It had been weeks since she had enjoyed a decent meal. All of her meals had come out of the microwave lately, or a cereal box. Occasionally, and generally only if she was entertaining an archeologist group, she grilled on a small stove outside her tent.
In the center of Boris’s tent, a table stood under a burden of food and braziers that held small flames to the undersides of dishes. Pots held several different foods, including bata—sticky rice, mantu—pasta dumplings, and aush. Layla loved noodle soup, and she felt hunger pangs chew at her.
“Oh, this smells wonderful.”
“It does, doesn’t it? We thought you’d like it.”
“Like it? I’m amazed.”
“Thomas and I will settle for amazed.”
She looked at Boris. “The two of you did not cook this?”
Boris shook his head. He stood on crutches, his right leg bandaged in a protective, inflatable boot. “Of course not. We’ve been busy working with artifacts. We had a caterer deliver.”
“From Herat?”
“There was no closer place.”
“But this must have been very expensive.”
Boris raised a hand. “Please. We owe you our lives.”
“Not exactly me. Major Dolgov had the situation in hand by the time we arrived.”
“Ah yes, my illustrious spy.”
“Do you know why he has been watching you?”
Boris shrugged. “I am opinionated and a university professor. Before the Wall, well, either one of those things would have garnered the attention of the KGB.”
“Major Dolgov is SVR.”
“I do not know their agenda, nor do I care. I am doing nothing that would get me into any trouble. I am simply a man who has dedicated his life to discovering what I can of the past. As you yourself have done.”
“I fear I’m more fascinated than dedicated. History holds my attention.”
“Then let us hope it holds your commitment for a great many more years to come. You are an excellent director.”
Layla looked around the tent. “Where is Professor Lourds?”
“He will be along. He–”
“—Is here, actually.” Lourds stepped through the tent flaps carrying a vase of flowers. “I’d forgotten to ask the caterer to bring a table setting. By the time I remembered, he’d already left Herat. I had to ask another courier.”
Layla watched in perplexed wonder as Lourds put the setting on the table. The bouquet included several large sunflowers, which she loved. “You had another courier dispatched simply to bring the flowers?” She couldn’t believe it. “Do you know how many of my people that would feed?”
“I do.” Lourds faced her squarely. “And I’m hoping that the courier I paid, as well as the flower shop owner, spends their profits within their communities. That’s usually how free enterprise works. You make money. You spend money. I’m a big advocate of that.”
Knowing what he said was true, Layla still felt a bit irritated.
“I know I have been very fortunate when it comes to money, Director Teneen. If you’d like, I can show you a list of foundations I endow and charities I donate to on a regular basis as the sales of my books permit. But don’t think for a moment that I won’t spend some of my ill-gotten gain to enjoy myself. Or to share a fine meal with my friends.”
“Of course. I stand corrected. This is not my business.”
“No, it isn’t.” Lourds smiled. “But I like the fact that you stand by your priorities.”
“I could have lived