“A doctor. One of the top dogs at a Cairo hospital.” Drake unzipped her backpack and pulled out a tablet. “I checked out the layout of the lawn with a drone this afternoon and didn’t see any obstacles in the yard. I still have to disable the security cameras.”
“What would a doctor be doing stealing artifacts when there were people hurt?”
“It’s disgusting, isn’t it? Here. Your earpiece.”
Leila stuck the device in her ear and pulled a black balaclava over her head. She tucked the end of her braid into the back of her shirt and tugged down her sleeves.
“So, what are we looking for, exactly?” she asked while she pulled her belt from her backpack and strapped it on. The large, ornate janbiya dagger attached to it hung next to her thigh. She then slipped the brown paper bag out of her backpack and, with a twist of dread in her stomach, slipped the gun into her belt next to the knife. After pulling on her gloves, she was ready.
“Right.” Drake focused on her tablet. “To answer your question, I have reason to believe this guy got his hands on a canopic jar. All four in the collection went missing, but the thief met up with someone, and they split up. Montu and Bastet are going after the other guys.
“So, considering my observations, our jar will either be stowed in their basement or in the office, which you’ll see through the second-floor windows as you cross the backyard. We’ll start in the basement, then try the office. And as a last resort, we’ll check the bedroom.”
“I hope not.”
“Me too.” Drake glanced up. “Cameras are off. I’ll give you a boost.”
Leila swallowed. This was it. She’d break into that house and pray Drake wasn’t planning on double-crossing her. But since she’d started training, and even on the ill-fated heist two weeks ago, Drake had never done anything to make Leila suspect they weren’t a team. Besides, she was well-armed this time. No more being nice.
She placed her foot in Drake’s cupped hands and lifted her arms, reaching until she was able to grasp the top of the wall. With one final heave, she pushed herself up and swung one leg over the side.
“They don’t have a dog, do they?” Leila asked, looking down at Drake. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Was she really doing this? Her mind wandered back to her mother and Sami, hopefully still holding on to life, and anger stirred in her chest. Yes, she would do this.
“No dogs.” The voice came both from below and in her earpiece.
“Good.”
Leila jumped, landed, and rolled forward. Unfazed by the fall, she hopped back onto her feet and stopped to study the villa. A grassy lawn stretched out before her; a narrow stone path sliced down the side. A rectangular pool filled the space in front of the villa. The entire back of the building was made of large window panels, giving her a glimpse into the open floor plan on both floors. The ground floor had the living room and kitchen all in one room. Upstairs was full of books—that must be the office Drake had mentioned. Both floors were dark, with no signs of movement.
“Stick to the right side of the yard,” Drake’s voice crackled in Leila’s ear. “I’ll get you in through the utility room door. Once you’re inside, I’ll catch up.”
Leila crept to the bushes that lined the wall on her right, then followed them toward the house. Her heart pounded, a rush of adrenaline pulsing through her veins, pushing her forward. With a furrowed brow and gaze focused on her target, her mind focused on one thing. These people had no right to loot while her mother and brother could possibly be dead under the rubble. She didn’t care how much trouble this would get her into if she got caught. She had to get into that house. She had to get that artifact back.
Something tugged at her foot and her breath caught in her throat. Freezing, she glanced down to see a hose wrapped around her ankle. How did she manage that?
“What are you doing?” Drake hissed in her ear.
“Garden hose,” Leila whispered, shaking it off her foot.
“Pay attention to your surroundings, will you?”
Leila didn’t answer. She slunk onward, treading carefully, quietly, until the grassy lawn ended, turning into a tiled patio. Stepping over a stray pool noodle, she tiptoed toward the right side of the house. Floor-to-ceiling windows loomed ahead, and she studied the glass for signs of movement beyond them. The living room and kitchen were dark, lit only by the moon and a slow, white blink from a light on the television monitor. She passed the windows and followed a path along the side, which ended with a solid gray door.
“It should be open,” Drake muttered. “Quietly try the handle.”
Leila swallowed and wrapped her fingers around the handle. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she pressed down slowly. The door opened.
“I’m in.”
“Great. Wait for me.”
CHAPTER 5
Leila eased the door all the way open and stepped into a dark, narrow room. Drake would probably need a few minutes to catch up, so Leila took a moment to breathe deeply, the scent of laundry detergent filling her nose. As many times as she’d broken into houses now, she didn’t think she would ever get used to it. She didn’t belong here.
But regardless. Whoever this fool was, he had no business taking artifacts from a museum—especially not when a bomb had just gone off. The whole situation was disgusting.
Something tapped her shoulder.
Leila glanced over as Drake slipped past her and headed for the door that led into the kitchen. Their steps were soft against the sleek, tiled floor. They tiptoed past the cabinets, glancing around, checking every shadowed corner.
Drake lifted a hand and pointed toward the dark staircase next to a bathroom door.
Keeping her lips pressed together, Leila nodded. They wouldn’t say a word as long as they were inside the house.
They padded into the basement, half of which had been turned into a workout room with a treadmill and weight bench, and the other half a gameroom and bar. Their search of the cabinets, shelves, and the billiards table ended quickly, and they made their way back upstairs.
Once they were back in the kitchen, Drake melted into the darkness and slunk toward the front entry.
How does she do that? Leila concentrated on every step, every shadow, every possible obstacle, yet she still moved like a hippo stampeding through a museum.
They stopped at the foot of the staircase and glanced up. Each step looked like a floating plank of wood. Stairs were always the tricky part. Sometimes they sounded so hollow that each step echoed. Other times, they creaked.
Drake tested the first step with the toe of her boot. Nothing. It was solid. With a nod at Leila, Drake led the way in a crouch. She made it up the stairs in seconds, but Leila lagged behind.
Her heart pounded in her ears. Certainly someone would be able to hear it too. And what if the soles of her shoes squeaked? What if the board creaked? They’d get caught. Or worse, they’d have to abort, and the artifact would vanish. Probably forever. She lowered her feet slowly onto each step, waiting until her full bodyweight was supported by the plank before trying the next.
Drake waited at the top of the stairs, her expression hidden beneath her balaclava, but Leila could see the annoyance flashing in her black eyes.
