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rider, with a colorful polycarbonate mushroom of a helmet and a UV-blocking
face shield, she was dressed in a dark burgundy sweater, gray culottes,
stockings that matched her sweater and grey athletic shoes. She sat at ease in
what appeared to be a mesh lawn chair atop two wheels, pedaling serenely with
feet secured by black straps. The apparition held her arms by her sides,
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steering by means of handles jutting to the sides below the level of the seat.
The vehicle negotiated its way deftly through the traffic to the curb. The
rider disengaged her shoes from the pedal straps, clambered out of the seat,
hauled the unlikely-looking bicycle up onto the sidewalk and wheeled it to the
rack. She locked it in place, then took a shoulder bag from the rack behind
the seat.
Unstrapping the helmet, she walked toward the door. As she pushed into the
little pastry shop where Annja sat, she shook out a head full of gleaming
wine-red hair. Her eyes lit on Annja. Beaming, she strode forward, helmet
tucked under her arm like a medieval knight.
 But you must be Annja Creed, she said in charmingly accented English.
She was tall, Annja discovered as she stood up politely, no more than an inch
or two shorter than Annja herself. She had that sort of lush tautness Annja
associated with French women. At close range, as Annja shook her proffered
hand, finding her grip strong and cool, she could see the woman s red hair was
laced with a few silver strands.
 And you must be Dr. Gendron, Annja said.  I m so pleased to meet you.
 Isabelle, please, the woman said.  We are not Germans, after all.
Annja laughed as they both sat.  Interesting you should mention Germans and
titles, she said.  But I thought national distinctions were supposed to
dissolve over time in the European Union.
The professor made a rude noise.  Many things are supposed to happen. I
understand that in America, when children put lost teeth under their pillows
the tooth fairy is supposed to bring them money. Alexander, Napoleon,
Hitler aside from being destructive monsters, what had those men in common?
 They all tried to unify Europe? Annja guessed.
 Bon! You do know history. Instead of just the pretty lies that are so often
told in its place. But enough of events beyond our means to affect. I m
hungry! She picked up a menu.
Annja sipped her coffee as the professor fished a pair of reading glasses from
inside her sweater and perched them on her fine, narrow nose.
The waitress came. Both women ordered pastries. I can see why the professor
does it, Annja thought, riding that bike everywhere. I ll have to run around
the whole city to work off the starch overload.
Gendron crossed her legs and leaned forward when the menus had been
surrendered.  So. Giani tells me you ve a question about some antique German
expedition.
 How do you know him? Annja asked.
 Giancarlo studied under me for a time. A slight smile flitted across her
features.
Annja felt a stab of curiosity. She also felt a strong desire not to ask. It
would have been intrusive, anyway.
 He must have enjoyed it, Annja said. She felt like kicking herself. Instead
she drove on.  I actually read one of your books as a textbook my freshman
year. Dynamite and Dreams: A Survey of Pre-Twentieth-Century Archaeology. I
found it fascinating. A delightful surprise, I have to tell you.
 I hate it when my students fall asleep on me, Gendron said.  I ll try not to
let that make me feel old, that you read my book as a schoolgirl.
 In college, Annja said.  It wasn t that long ago.
 I m just having you on, as the English say. When I was a student I always
felt years older than my peers. Now all my students seem to be twelve, and yet
my contemporaries all seem decades older than I. I appear to have become
chronically unmoored. Alas, it doesn t stop age slowly taking its toll. But I
refuse to let that compromise my enjoyment of life.
 Good for you, Annja said sincerely.
 Now, what was it you wanted to know?
 Whatever you can tell me about Rudolf von Hoiningen and his expedition to
Indochina.
 He came of East Prussian nobility reduced to genteel poverty by Bismarck s
German unification. By what exact means I do not know. He appears to have
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burned up what remained of his inheritance to finance his 1913 expedition.
Gendron sipped her coffee.  Rudolf was a gay, apolitical, physical-culture
buff obsessed with the mystic knowledge of the ancient Buddhists and Taoists.
None of those things was particularly unusual among well-born Prussians of the
day, although not so frequently in that exact combination. He was also a
premier archaeological explorer of his day, very progressive in his refusal to
rely upon dynamite, a staple of the time. As the title of my textbook reminds
us.
Annja felt a chill run down her spine. The destructive everyday practices of
early archaeologists struck her, as they did any well-brought-up modern
archaeologist, as actively obscene. At least as abhorrent as the depredations
of a modern-day tomb robber like Easy Ngwenya.
 He apparently met with great success, as his letters back to the University
of Berlin attest the few that survived the bombardments of the Second World
War. But when it came time to return home, he faced a difficulty.
 World War I? Annja asked as the waitress delivered their pastries.
 But yes. Gendron picked up a fork and addressed herself to a hearty slice of
chocolate cake.  Owing to British control of the Suez Canal, von Hoiningen was
forced to travel an arduous, dangerous, circuitous land route. He had to
travel up through China to the ancient Silk Road, then through Turkestan into
Turkey.
She gestured with her fork.  Having survived all that, he loaded his specimens
and journals onto a ship, the freighter Hentzau, and set sail from Istanbul.
Whereupon a British submarine lurking in the Sea of Marmara promptly torpedoed
it.
 Oh, dear, Annja said. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]