I was still wiping sweat from my forehead and contemplating the fairly recent dust of now-ancient Egypt on my sandals when Jeannie interrupted my work. “You have a call from Mr. Farrow.” I automatically looked up, even though my implanted Assistant couldn’t be seen, and fastened an annoyed glare on the nearest wall. “Tell him I just got home and ask him to call me back in a few hours.” “He says it’s very urgent.” I smothered an exasperated reply. Whenever I got together with other Temporal Interventionists we usually ended discussing one of the still-unsolved mysteries of the universe; why we had access to all of human history but always seemed not to have any time to spare. “Okay. Put him on.” An image of Bill Farrow appeared before me, his usually cheerful face looking worried. I started talking before he could. “Look, I’m sure this is really important, but I just got back from dodging homicidal priests through the City of the Dead so I could stop someone from looting a tomb a few millennia before it was supposed to be looted.
