“Tell me,” I breathed. “Is it…?”
Isadora nodded slowly. “I know when and where the gate will move.”
“And?” I demanded.
“Tonight,” she said. “Four in the morning.”
Farida frowned. “What is a gate that moves?”
“It’stheillegal black market in Egypt, called Tradesman’s Gate,” I said. A sudden idea struck me, and I smiled shyly at Farida. “How would you feel about bringing your camera with you?”
“To the black market?” she asked. “Won’t that draw suspicion?”
My smile widened as I pulled at the scarf at my neck. The silk caressed my skin as I twirled the ends around my finger, loosening the knot. “I have something that will help with that.” In one fluid motion, I dropped the scarf over the handheld camera. The fabric rippled as it fell softly against the bed.
Farida gasped. “Where did it go?”
I lifted the scarf and found the shrunken camera and held it in the palm of my hand. “Little less suspicious, don’t you think?”
“Mother’s scarf,” Isadora said softly. “I’ve always loved it.”
“I never gave it back.” I glanced at my sister, at the sudden bleakness pooling in her blue eyes. I knew she was thinking of how this seemingly harmless stretch of silk had caused so much trouble. “And tonight we’ll use it to take as many photos as we can. The artifacts, the location, and all the people attending the illegal auction.”
WHIT
Sir Evelyn had made me wait hours to see him. I spent the majority of my time restraining myself from kicking down his door. The rational part of my brain kept reminding me that wouldn’t help my case.
In the end, controlling my temper hadn’t helped me.
The sanctimonious twit forbade me from speaking with either Ricardo or Abdullah. He was the most powerful man in Egypt, the one who could have opposed Maspero’s order to detain them in prison, but did he use his power and influence foranygood? Of course not. His dislike of the pair overruled common decency or sense. From Sir Evelyn’s office, I rushed to the antiquities department to speak with Maspero, which had turned into a shouting match. He refused to listen to my arguments, no matter how loud I yelled them, and ignored my demands that the two men be kept out of the prison.
An absolute mess of a day.
I yearned for my flask.
But it was keeping company with crocodiles at the bottom of the Nile. I dragged a hand down my face, blinking wearily. Shepheard’s lobby, while extravagant, wasn’t exactly the best place for sleeping. The alcove, at least, had several chairs. I pushed two together and tried to make myself comfortable.
Wasted effort. My legs were too long.
With a sigh, I tipped my head back and stared up at the ceiling, wishing I were anywhere else. I’d give myself three minutes. Three minutes to let myself feel the weight of my exhaustion, to let the soothing dark of the alcove quiet my racing thoughts. It had been the darkest place I could find with easy access to the hotel entrance. My eyes drifted shut.
One more minute.
But my mind wouldn’t rest. I had a feeling it wouldn’t until this was over. For a second, I debated going upstairs to lie down on that miserable cot in our room, but I didn’t want to risk waking my wife, who hated me,and her sister, whom I didn’t trust. There was no point, anyway, since I’d be leaving for the auction soon.
Slowly, unwillingly, I opened my eyes and fixed my attention on the grand wooden clock at the end of the room lording over the space like a sentry on watch, the minutes dragging to four in the morning.
No one stirred in the lobby, and even the hotel attendant behind the counter had propped his stool near the wall so that he might sleep. I could have another few minutes. There was still time. I tipped my head again, resting it against the curve of the back of the chair, and stretched my legs out in front of me. My eyes drifted closed by their own accord.
And still, sleep evaded me.
Alchemical symbols swam across my mind, golden and glittering against a dark backdrop. My fingers itched to turn the pages of my textbooks where I might find another clue. More than ever, I needed to find that sheet. I would not allow Lourdes to beat me to it.
I needed it with a desperation that burned me all the way through.
The sound of people coming down the stairs jolted me upright. I squinted across the shadowed lobby, wondering who in their right mind would be awake at this hour. Three slight figures descended, covered in long coats, desperately trying to be silent. They crossed the lobby on tiptoes, furtively glancing over their shoulders at the hotel worker, who was blithely unaware that some of Shepheard’s guests were leaving at an ungodly hour.
But it didn’t matter how sneaky they thought they were being, or how quiet.
