Natalie threw herself back on the bed and was almost instantly asleep. She woke an hour later, showered, got changed and went downstairs. A chaperone greeted her at the door enquiring if she wanted a table for one.

"No I'm with Mr Hutchinson."

"One moment please," he said checking his reservation list "Ah yes Mr Hutchinson's party. Follow me please."

Natalie glanced at other diners as they weaved their way through the tables. The food looked exquisite. She was oblivious to the admiring looks she was getting from various businessmen as they passed. Jim Hutchinson stood as they approached. The others slowly rose as Natalie was helped to her seat.

"Where's George?" she enquired.

"His wife rang his mobile and he stepped out to speak," Hutchinson replied.

"You'll never guess what Nata." Tom said.

She shook her head, glancing at the others.

"What?"

"George only had to pass the phone to Jim so George's wife could speak to him. Only once she heard his voice did she believe it was true."

"Now that's enough!" Hutchinson said.

"I was just saying boss," the smile disappeared from Tom's face.

"I'm sure George has his problems just like everyone else."

"Too many affairs probably," Alex cut in.

"That's enough! George is a key member of this team. What he does in his social life is up to him and it's his business. It hasn't interfered with his work and let me assure you if it does I'll be the first to say something. Now who would care for wine? Ladies first, red or white Natalie?"

"White thank you."

Hutchinson waited until their main courses had arrived before he got their attention by tapping on an empty glass with a knife.

"Lady and gentlemen," he began once again "Thank you all for joining me here at such short notice. I know you're all very tired. George I understand you've cancelled some leave, you'll get that back again as soon as is possible. I hope your wife understandsa."

George nodded.

"I'd especially like to thank Natalie who knows precisely why you're here but under my wishes has revealed nothing to any of you."

He looked at each of them. Their faces were expectant.

"We now know where the final resting place of Alexander the Great is."

There was a stunned silence.

"James are you sure?" Alex was the first to speak. He often referred to Hutchinson as James.

"Yes," Hutchinson replied glancing nervously around at the other diners to make sure that no one was listening, "We must keep our voices down. Yes we're sure."

"How?" from Tom White.

Hutchinson pulled a magazine out of his jacket pocket.

"This is April's *The Country' magazine for overseas Brits, ex-pats I believe they are called. Turn to page twelve," he said handing the rolled up publication to Natalie.

She opened it to the required page as the others craned their necks to see.

The three page supplement began with the heading 'The Lion and the Wolf' a photograph of a bust of Alexander the Great on the left hand page, a map of the ancient world and an artists impression of what the sarcophagus probably looked like in ancient times. She began reading the story. On the third page was a picture of some Royal Engineers from North Africa dated 1942 and a recent photograph of the reporter Peter Dennis.

She finished reading the article and passed the magazine on. The last to read it was George. He of all of them understood the significance of this article. His wife was Macedonian.

"George?"

"It's incredible Jim. I can't believe it. This will be the most important find for my people you could ever imagine. Is this man? This Peter Dennis correct?"

"I telephoned him this morning."

"What?"

Now they were speechless.

"I spoke to him this morning and what's more he will be arriving here tomorrow morning at 6a.m."

There were excited comments.

"Natalie you haven't said a word."

"Who else has he given interviews to?"

All conversation on the table now stopped.

"He assured me that he would grant us and only us access to what he knows."

Natalie was sceptical.

"So he says." Jack rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. The international sign for receiving money.

"He gave his word."

Natalie allowed herself a chuckle.

"Oh come on Jim you don't honestly believe him do you. An honest journalist. He'll sell out to the highest bidder or bidders. If this story is true, well, then it'll be worth millions to him."

"I think what Natalie says is true Jim. This man is not to be trusted. Certainly I don't trust him," George said.

"I don't blame you all for having your doubts and who knows you may even be right. I sincerely hope not but I can tell you that he told me that he wasn't interested in the archaeology side of it. He just thought it made an interesting story. More so because, personally for him, his grandfather is in it. He also reminded me of the number of ships that went down in the Mediterranean during the second world war and asked me if I knew how many had sunk since. In his words and I believe he used an English phrase here, he said it would be looking for a needle in a haystack."

Alex now spoke.

"What I don't understand is 'What's in it for him' "

Hutchinson shrugged. Then he smiled.

"I've been saving this for last," he looked at their faces "He's asked if he can come with us."

"You're not serious?" from Tom.

"Yes. He wants to report all the details as we uncover them."

"I hope you said yes," from Natalie.

"Of course I said yes. This man knows, potentially, the whereabouts of the greatest find about to be made and what's more he is now on our team."

They all congratulated their boss.

"He's particularly interested in meeting you Natalie."

"Me?"

"Yes he saw your picture in National Geographic and is keen to get to know you."

She picked up the 'Country' magazine once again and looked at the picture of its columnist.

"Peter Dennis," she held it closer to see his face 'He is rather good looking' she said to herself but also out loud. George, sitting next to her heard the comment. She caught the Greek staring at her.

"I still don't trust him," he said.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

Thirty six hours later and the team along with Hutchinson and Peter Dennis bumped and jarred their way over rough, sand swept roads in hired Land Rovers. The two at the rear carrying their equipment. Hutchinson, Dennis, Natalie and George in the lead vehicle. They had left their hotel rooms at 6a.m. and met Dennis, in the restaurant for breakfast. At 8a.m. they had hit the road. They had taken the motorway south from Tunis, and nearer Gabes they had taken the road that hugged the coast. It was now near midday.

"Could we have some more air conditioning please?" Hutchinson asked the driver.

Dennis smiled to himself while looking out of the window.

"What are you smiling at?" Natalie asked him.

"I was just thinking how people today can't survive without air conditioning. In 1942 when my grandfather was out here they were driving around in lorries that had nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Not even lining in the cabs. Just bare metal. Imagine how hot or cold that must have been."

"What was it like for those men out here all those years ago?"

"In one word *Desolate' They lived with death everyday, with disease, with poor supplies. Sometimes they would run out of petrol and just sit where they were for two weeks, and here's the thing, nearly fifty per cent of their petrol supply was lost to evaporation and poor, leaking, storage containers. Did you know? Even their tea and coffee tasted of petrol because the petrol cans were all they had to make beverages with. Imagine what drinking petrol, even a miniscule amount, does to your insides. My Grandfather always said years later that he could still remember the taste. It's been sixty five years but for those men and women involved the war has never left them."

Out of tiredness Natalie put her hand up to her mouth to suppress a yawn.

"I'm sorry. I'm boring you."

"Oh no. Sorry, no I'm just tired. No it's very interesting. Please continue," she said genuinely liking him.

"I knew nothing about it myself. I only began researching it after my Grandfather died."

"What was he like?"

"He was the kindest man I ever knew. I'm not just saying that. He never had a harsh word to say about anyone."

Dennis raised his backside off the seat enough to pull his wallet from his Jeans back pocket.

"I have a picture. A photograph. Here," he said opening the wallet and taking out a very old black and white still. Natalie held it in her hand. There were two women seated in front of a young man in a British army uniform.

"That was taken in 1939 when he was called up. The young woman is his wife, my Gran, Ronnie."

"Ronnie?"

"Veronica."

"Oh I see. Is the older woman his Mother?"

"No my Gran's Mother."

"Pardon me for saying but she looks like a very stern woman."

Dennis smiled. He agreed.

"I never knew her. She died before I was born."

"Oh I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

She looked at him. His smile was friendly.

"Why do people who've never met someone or know the circumstances always say they're sorry to hear that that person has died."

He was right. She knew it.

"Human nature I suppose."

He was staring out of the window at the miles and miles of sand.