“She also was tasked with recording any findings,” Farida said. “There’s one where she’s writing in a thick leather book.” She rummaged through the photos. “Here it is—look. I remember taking this one, actually. She used to have a little wooden desk that she carried everywhere so she could write. This photo is when she had placed the desk overlooking the river. It was in a more secluded area, and I thought she looked, well, picturesque.”
I squinted at the photo. Isadora leaned closer to look over my shoulder. Mamá sat in a wooden chair, her back straight, her slim neck bent as she wrote in the book. In her other hand was a small square-shaped card. I drew in a quick breath.
“What is it?” Isadora asked.
I blinked, my eyes watering from the strain of trying to see what my mother held in her hand. “I might have this wrong, but I think that card could be an invitation to the illegal mar—”
“Wait a moment, Inez,” Isadora said sharply.
I glanced at her in surprise. She jumped to her feet nimbly, resembling a graceful cat. “Excuse me?”
“May I speak with you a moment? Out in the corridor?”
Hurt flashed across Farida’s face.
“Isadora, is that really necess—”
“Yes,” she said and then went to the door and held it open until I followed after her. Farida had her face turned resolutely from me, and a flicker of annoyance at my sister bubbled to the surface. I walked through the door, and she closed it softly.
“Whatisit?” I demanded, one hand on my hip.
Isadora rubbed her temples, her eyes squeezed shut. “You are so trusting.”
I lowered my chin at her, lips parting in outrage. “Maybe so, but it’sFarida.”
She rolled her eyes and led me down a few steps from my hotel room. “How well do you know her? I’m not saying she isn’t a lovely person, but I just met her, and I think we ought to be cautious.”
“Well, I disagree. She’s as involved as we are and highly motivated to help her grandfather. Our interests are aligned, and I happen to like her.I think she’ll be very helpful—you said so yourself. You called her clever, remember?”
Isadora waved her hand dismissively. “It’s one thing for her to collect photographs, quite another for us to include her in our plans to attend anillegal auction. Think of the risk we’d be asking of her! We must move quietly, and the more people we involve, the more attention we draw to ourselves.”
“One more person won’t shatter our plans,” I said.
“Really?” Isadora said, one honey-hued brow arching. “Three women, without a chaperone, sneaking into one of the most illicit activities Cairo has to offer? In the dead of night?”
“I’m a married woman,” I said, crossing my arms. “Obviously, I’d be the chaperone, but are you really concerned with the proprieties at this point? Because I’m not in the slightest.”
She bit her lip, considering. “I suppose you’re right. But should anything happen to her, it’s on your conscience.”
Her words bit into my skin. I didn’t want to be responsible for another person. I didn’t want to fail another human being I cared about. “It’d be her choice, of course,” I replied stiffly, but even to my own ears, I sounded unsure.
Isadora nodded and together we returned to Farida. She had stood, gathering all of the photos, picking up her camera.
“Oh, please don’t leave yet,” I said hurriedly. “Isadora and I have been working on a plan—but it involves a degree of risk that we had to discuss.”
Farida stilled, warily looking between us. “Your plan is dangerous.”
“It could be,” Isadora said. “I have something to share with both of you, but once I do, we need to carefully consider all potential outcomes. It might not be worth it.”
“I know a story about Monsieur Maspero,” Farida said quietly. “Regarding the arrest of three brothers from a small village. This family had made a monumental discovery, and for years, they illicitly sold and traded countless artifacts. It was only a matter of time until Monsieur Maspero caught wind of their dealings. While in his custody, the three brothers were tortured until they revealed the location of the cache.”
“Tortured,” I choked out.
“I heard about this,” Isadora said in a horrified whisper. “One brother died, and another turned.”
Tears swam in Farida’s dark eyes. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t risk to help my grandfather. Please tell me your plan.”
“When I left Philae, I mailed a few letters to some of my father’s friends, letting them know what happened and to ask for help in locating him.” Isadora’s lips twisted in distaste. “I even wrote to a scoundrel my father sometimes hired when working bigger jobs. Well, this man wrote me back and offered information about one place my father might turn up.”
