A human skull contains 28 bones, which might suggest that thelikelihood of unearthing a complete skull dating back to theeighteenth century would be rather remote. After all, three hundredyears was a mighty long time to be encased in the predominatelysoft soil of Lower Manhattan. Nonetheless, a complete skull wasexactly what Juan Garza saw when he peered into the ditch he hadjust finished digging. Being a good Catholic, he made the sign ofthe cross, then uttered a short prayer. Shaking like a leaf, he climbeddown from the backhoe and inched closer to the edge of the ditch. Itwas not until he was directly above the skull that he noticed it wasattached to a skeleton that lay just below the surface. Kneeling down,he wiped the sweat from his face and stared at the white bones thatwere protruding from the dirt.

Dios me perdone, he mumbled. What have I done?

Then he noticed something else. The dark spot in the center of thefrontal bone wasn't dirt. It was a perfectly round hole, the size of apenny.

Que Dios me proteja, he whispered to no one but himself.

Garza knew that what he was looking at was a bullet hole—and aworld of trouble. He had seen similar wounds many times in CiudadJuarez, during his years as a Mexican "Federale." What he didn'tknow, but would soon discover, was that he had just stumbled upon amajor archaeological find.

"Llame a la policia!" he shouted to a coworker.

His heart beating faster now, Miguel Estrada dropped his shoveland came closer. "Que hay de malo?" he asked. Then, in English, hesaid, "What's wrong, amigo?"

Garza pointed toward the ditch. "Me encontraron un esquelto!"

"Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief. "Where?"

"Alli! Alli!"

Estrada stared at the bones, trying to make sense of what he waslooking at. As it began to dawn on him, he felt the blood drainingfrom his face. He stared in horror, unable to look away or speak. Hisgaze shot back up to Garza, whose eyes were locked on his. "CristoJesus," he said aloud. "Now what do we do?"

It was at this moment that a N.Y.P.D. cruiser driving up MaidenLane pulled up to the corner of Nassau Street. Spotting the car, Garzaran over and began to pound on the hood. "Ayuda!" he shouted."Necesitamos ayuda!"

A young female officer stepped out of the car and told him—inSpanish—to calm down. "Cual es el problema?" she asked.

Garza told her what he'd found and begged her to come and takea look. Instinctively, she called for backup and then drove her car intothe vacant lot where Garza and Estrada had been working. When shesaw the skull and the skeleton, she gasped. "Oh my God," she saidsoftly. "What do we have here."

By the time Captain Lou Feretti showed up, the entire lot hadbeen cordoned off with yellow police tape and every major newsorganization had a reporter on the scene. The media circus caughtFeretti by surprise, but being that he was now on the mayor's staff,he had no choice but to be gracious and answer every single questionthat was lobbed at him—even the dumb ones. Who discovered theskeleton? When did they find it? Where did it come from? How longhas it been in the ground?

Feretti promised to answer all of them just as soon as he wasfinished with his initial inquiry.

Would the mayor be making a statement?

Dodging and weaving, Feretti managed to convey the mayor'sinterest without divulging his real concern. The lot where they werestanding just happened to be the site of a brand new skyscraper, thefirst such building to be erected during the mayor's term. Needlessto say, the project was of great importance to the current resident ofGracie Mansion, as well as his supporters down at City Hall. By mostaccounts, the project would generate twelve hundred jobs and millionsof dollars in new revenue and taxes.

The mayor had given Feretti a relatively straightforwardassignment, or so it seemed. The highly decorated captain wassupposed to make sure that the wheels of progress rolled on unabated.Translated, that meant a cursory investigation, orderly disinterment,and no delays. Time was money, and in this case, a lot of politicaldonations were at stake.

"Who called this in?" Feretti demanded to know.

"I did," answered the female officer, whose name was Ortiz. "Oneof the workers flagged me down."

"Which one?"

"The backhoe operator." She pointed to Garza. "He's a littleshaken up, but he'll be all right."

"Did you question him?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't speak much English—and my Spanish isn'twhat it used to be."

"What did he have to say?"

She told him that Garza worked for a company called MessinaExcavating, a site preparation firm located in Newark. He and hiscoworker had been hired to clear the lot of debris and dig a few pipelines. They had been working at the site for two months and were justfinishing up with phase one of the project.

She glanced at her notepad. "Garza and Estrada. They both live inJersey City."

Feretti pulled her to the side. "Are they here legally?"

"I didn't ask."

"What do you think?"

"Probably not."

"Swell." He lowered his voice, just a little. "Why don't you tellthem to knock off early."

She looked puzzled. "You want them to leave?"

"Yeah, I do."

Officer Ortiz chuckled, mistaking Feretti's response for a joke."They might not come back."

"Let's hope not."

"Sir?"

"Tell them to find another job."

She gave him a blank stare. "I don't understand."

"Have they committed a crime?"

"No, sir."

"Then why should we detain them?"

"Should I notify ICE?"

Feretti rolled his eyes, "The mayor has a good rapport with theHispanic community. Let's keep it that way."

Ortiz shot a dubious glance at Garza and Estrada. "Should I checkfor outstanding warrants?"

"No," Feretti said sharply, "You shouldn't check for outstandingwarrants. Nor should you check for parking tickets, unpaid fines, oroverdue library books! Just let them go. You got me?"

Ortiz saluted hastily and walked away.

Feretti eyed the skeleton critically. It looked unusually wellpreserved for something that had been in the ground so long. Ofcourse, it may have been encased in some sort of protective sheathing,or some other material that had rotted away. He groaned when he sawthat the bones were being inspected by a woman in a hazmat suit. Heassumed that she was part of a C.S.I. Unit, but where was the rest ofher team? For fifteen minutes, he watched over her shoulder as shemeasured each and every bone. When she reached the skull, sheseemed to pause, as if in prayer, and reverently ran her hand over theface several times.

Feretti knelt down and tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me,"he said harshly. "Are you planning to stay down there all day?"

She looked up and without removing her hood asked politely"Would you mind moving that way?" She gestured to her left with asuited hand. "You're blocking my light."

Feretti cleared his throat, seeming suddenly irritated. "Would youmind coming up here a moment?"

She took off her hood and shook her head, allowing her long,black hair to spill out onto her shoulders. Then, with a weary sigh,she raised her chin, staring at him through deep blue eyes. Whenshe spoke, it was with a slight British accent. "How may I help you,captain?"

Feretti hesitated. He had been unprepared to encounter such anincredibly pretty woman. The...