"As you know, Professor," she said, "for some time now, my newspaper has been working on a story about the American company ITC."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Am I correct that ITC sponsors this site?"

"Yes, they do."

She said, "We have been told they contribute a million dollars a year."

"That's about right."

They walked on for a moment. She seemed to be trying to frame her next question carefully.

"There are some at the newspaper," she said, "who think that's a great deal of money to spend on medieval archaeology."

"Well, you can tell them at the newspaper," Johnston said, "that it's not. In fact, it's average for a large site like this. ITC gives us two hundred and fifty in direct costs, a hundred and a quarter in indirect costs paid to the university, another eighty in scholarships, stipends, and travel and living expenses, and fifty for laboratory and archiving costs."

"But surely there is much more than that," she said, playing with her hair with her pen, and blinking rapidly. Chris thought, She's batting her eyes at him. He'd never seen a woman do that. You had to be French to pull it off.

The Professor appeared not to notice. "Yes, there is certainly more," he said, "but it doesn't go to us. The rest is reconstruction costs for the site itself. That is separately accounted, since as you know, reconstruction costs are shared with the French government."

"Of course," she said. "So the half million dollars your own team spends is in your view quite usual?"

"Well, we can ask François," Johnston said. "But there are twenty-seven archaeological sites being worked in this corner of France. They range from the Paleolithic dig that the University of Zurich is doing with Carnegie-Mellon, to the Roman castrum, the fort, that the University of Bordeaux is doing with Oxford. The average annual cost of these projects is about half a million dollars a year."

"I did not know that." She was staring into his eyes, openly admiring. Too openly, Chris thought. It suddenly occurred to him that he might have misjudged what was happening. This might simply be her way of getting a story.

Johnston glanced back at Bellin, who was walking behind him. "François? What would you say?"

"I believe you know what you are doing - I mean, saying," Bellin said. "Funding varies from four to six hundred thousand U.S. Scandinavians, Germans and Americans cost more. Paleolithic costs more. But yes, half a million could be an average number."

Miss Delvert remained focused on Johnston: "And for your funding, Professor Johnston, how much contact are you required to have with ITC?"

"Almost none."

"Almost none? Truly?"

"Their president, Robert Doniger, came out two years ago. He's a history buff, and he was very enthusiastic, like a kid. And ITC sends a vice president about once a month. One is here right now. But by and large, they leave us alone."

"And what do you know about ITC itself?"

Johnston shrugged. "They do research in quantum physics. They make components used in MRIs, medical devices, and so forth. And they are developing several quantum-based dating techniques, to precisely date any artifact. We're helping with that."

"I see. And these techniques, they work?"

"We have prototype devices in our farmhouse office. So far they've proven too delicate for field work. They're always breaking down."

"But this is why ITC funds you - to test their equipment?"

"No," Johnston said. "It's the other way around. ITC is making dating equipment for the same reason ITC funds us - because Bob Doniger is enthusiastic about history. We're his hobby."

"An expensive hobby."

"Not for him," Johnston said. "He's a billionaire. He bought a Gutenberg Bible for twenty-three million. He bought the Rouen Tapestry at auction for seventeen million. Our project's just small change."

"Perhaps so. But Mr. Doniger is also a tough businessman."

"Yes."

"Do you really think he supports you out of personal interest?" Her tone was light, almost teasing.

Johnston looked directly at her. "You never know, Miss Delvert, what someone's reasons are."

Chris thought, He's suspicious, too.

Delvert seemed to sense it as well, and she immediately reverted to a more businesslike manner. "Of course, yes. But I ask this for a reason. Isn't it true that you do not own the results of your research? Anything you find, anything you discover, is owned by

"Yes, that's correct."

"This doesn't bother you?"

"If I worked for Microsoft, Bill Gates would own the results of my research. Anything I found and discovered, Bill Gates would own."

"Yes. But this is hardly the same."

"Why not? ITC is a technical company, and Doniger set up this fund the way technical companies do such things. The arrangement doesn't bother me. We have the right to publish our findings - they even pay for publication."

"After they approve them."

"Yes. We send our reports to them first. But they have never commented."

"So you see no greater ITC plan behind all this?" she asked.

Johnston said, "Do you?"

"I don't know," she said. "That is why I am asking you. Because of course there are some extremely puzzling aspects to the behavior of ITC as a company."

"What aspects?"

"For example," she said, "they are one of the world's largest consumers of xenon."

"Xenon? You mean the gas?"

"Yes. It is used in lasers and electron tubes."

Johnston shrugged. "They can have all the xenon gas they want. I can't see how it concerns me."

"What about their interest in exotic metals? ITC recently purchased a Nigerian company to assure their supply of niobium."

"Niobium." Johnston shook his head. "What's niobium?"

"It is a metal similar to titanium."

"What's it used for?"

"Superconducting magnets, and nuclear reactors."

"And you wonder what ITC is using it for?" Johnston shook his head again. "You'd have to ask them, Miss Delvert."

"I did. They said it was for `research in advanced magnetics.' "

"There you are. Any reason not to believe them?"

"No," she said. "But as you said yourself, ITC is a research company. They employ two hundred physicists at their main facility, a place called Black Rock, in New Mexico. It is clearly and unquestionably a high-technology company."

"Yes…"

"So I wonder: Why would a high-technology company want so much land?"

"Land?"

"ITC has purchased large land parcels in remote locations around the world: the mountains of Sumatra, northern Cambodia, southeast Pakistan, the jungles of central Guatemala, the highlands of Peru."

Johnston frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. They have made acquisitions in Europe, as well. West of Rome, five hundred hectares. In Germany near Heidelberg, seven hundred hectares. In France, a thousand thousand hectares in the limestone hills above the River Lot. And finally, right here."

"Here?"

"Yes. Using British and Swedish holding companies, they have very quietly acquired five hundred hectares, all around your site. It is mostly forest and farmland, at the moment."

"Holding companies?" he said.

"That makes it very difficult to trace. Whatever ITC is doing, it clearly requires secrecy. But why would this company fund your research, and also buy the land all around the site?"

"I have no idea," Johnston said. "Especially since ITC doesn't own the site itself. You'll recall they gave the entire area - Castelgard, Sainte-Mère and La Roque - to the French government last year."

"Of course. For a tax exemption."

"But still, ITC does not own the site. Why should they buy land around it?"

"I will be happy to show you everything I have."

"Perhaps," Johnston said, "you should."