Leila spent most of the next day alone. Aside from being brought a tray of food and being escorted to the bathroom by the veiled woman, she didn’t have any visitors. Not that she wanted any. Her mind was a sandstorm of confusion, leaving her unable to see her way through the murky clouds.
Amir, his father, her father, Soliman, Xander, the papyrus—the puzzle was there but she couldn’t get the pieces to fit together.
Late afternoon, the woman entered Leila’s room again. Instead of being led to the bathroom, Leila glanced around in wonder as they continued down the hall, past closed doors and elegant paintings hanging on white walls. Although relieved to be free of the chain, she now saw how large her prison was. The woman led her down a marble staircase and into a foyer that rose two stories high. The shiny terracotta floor reflected the arched pillars lining the hall.
They ended up in a dining area, a light and airy room with a lofty ceiling and windows overlooking a lush, tropical garden. A wooden table lined with a dozen chairs on either side stood in the center. Curiously, a white cotton cloth had been spread over one end of the table.
Leila came to a stop in the middle of the room when the door clicked shut. Alone again, she eyed the door, her gaze flicking to the handle. It was probably locked. She turned her attention back to the tablecloth. Curiosity got the better of her and she walked over to inspect the objects placed on top.
She sucked in her breath. Fragments of papyrus were arranged on the cloth. Even though the hieroglyphics had faded to shades of gray, her heart gave an excited flutter. This was a piece of Kemet, ancient Egypt.
A pair of latex gloves, a small selection of flat metal picks, and tweezers lay to the side. She slipped on the gloves, leaning closer to examine the frayed artifact. It wasn’t in as good condition as she had hoped. It appeared brittle and dry, even though a papyrus should have some slight pliability. Pieces had begun to crumble away. One corner of the papyrus had obviously been cut off at some point, with the edges clean and precise.
“What’s the verdict?” echoed Amir’s voice from the doorway.
Having expected the jerk to show up, she kept her head down, gaze concentrated on the papyrus.
“It’s in horrible condition,” she said with a businesslike tone, using the flat pick to carefully lift one edge. “It could crumble to dust at the slightest touch.” She squatted, lowering her temple against the tabletop to examine the underside of the document. “Have any efforts been taken for preservation? This should be mounted and sealed. You need to get this to a papyrologist for proper conservation before there’s nothing left to preserve.”
“Means were taken after its discovery,” Amir explained as he wandered toward her, the clack of his footsteps echoing with each stride. “It is kept in safe storage. Although it has had a rough journey up until now. It was in my father’s possession for a long time, given to him as a gift from a friend. A few years later, he decided to send it to England to be examined by scholars and also for safekeeping. He wished to find a museum to donate it to. He had the British Museum in mind, but it was stolen from him somewhere during its travels.”
“Who was this friend who gave him an ancient Egyptian papyrus?” Leila asked, watching him through slits. If Amir’s story were true, she would happily report the person to the police. Except her gut feeling told her this hadn’t been a gift at all. Ancient Egyptian artifacts weren’t exactly easy for private collectors to get their hands on. Legally.
Amir smiled slyly then pointed toward the document. “I want to know why the corner was cut off and hidden in the picture frame. What do the hieroglyphics say?”
Of course he wouldn’t answer her question. She inspected the small piece of papyrus with the straight edges. Neferkheri’s cartouche was clear as day. Next to it, Thutnekhbet’s name. She also recognized the symbol for tomb. This was the clue Soliman had told her about. The clue that led him to Saqqara.
“I can’t read it,” she said. The lie came easily. “Again, you should get it to a papyrologist for it to be properly studied.”
Amir narrowed his eyes.
“How did you get it back after it had been stolen?” Leila asked, tugging off the gloves. A change of subject would hopefully distract him.
“My accomplice, Xander Harrison. He went through quite an ordeal to get it back to my father,” Amir said smoothly, joining Leila at the head of the table.
She could only gape at Amir, her heart pounding. Xander was working for him? Amir had spoken so confidently, it would be easy to believe him. But after everything Xander had told her, everything he had done to help with the tomb, it didn’t fit. She had to admit she didn’t know Xander that well, but his actions the last week struck her as a serious archaeologist who was trying to preserve the past rather than profit from it.
Leila straightened and frowned at him. “You’re lying.”
“Let me guess. He told you it was all an accident,” Amir said in a fake whiny voice. “He doesn’t remember a thing. He’s innocent.”
“Stop it. You’re lying. If he was your accomplice, he would have told you where the tomb is already.”
“You don’t quite understand,” Amir growled, looming closer to her. Leila then wished she hadn’t put the pick down. “He’s betrayed me the same way he’s betrayed you. He’s trying to win you over, habibti. Get you to let your guard down.”
“Oh really?” she breathed, backing away. She could try to punch him. She’d never punched anyone before but there was a first time for everything.
“He was supposed to be helping us find Neferkheri’s tomb. Now he won’t talk. He wants it all for himself.”
Her stomach lurched. She couldn’t believe him—not until she heard the other side of the story. There had to be an explanation.
“Where is he?”
Amir answered the question with a wordless frown and her chest tightened. No answer meant he was okay, right?
A loud grinding noise broke the silence as he clutched the back of a chair, dragging the legs across the floor. He gestured toward it. “Sit.”
She remained rooted to her spot. Regardless of what he said, she didn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust him.
Amir walked around to the other side of the table and took the seat directly across from the empty chair.
“I have a compromise to offer you.”
She slowly went over to the chair and lowered herself into it. He only wanted to talk. Even though she didn’t think there could be anything they would agree on, she was curious what kind of compromise he had in mind.
“How much would you like?” Amir offered, touching his fingertips together. “I can give you a blank check. If you hadn’t noticed, my family is very rich. Write in any amount you want.”
Leila scoffed. Like she would fall for that one. “What good is a blank check if I’m stuck here?”
“With any amount for your utter silence and the location of the tomb, I’ll be more than happy to let you out.” Amir leaned back and waved a dismissive hand as if this was self-evident.
“You can’t buy me.” Leila scowled and crossed her arms.
An amused smile spread over his face, revealing a set of straight, white teeth. “Face it, Leila. Your career is ruined. I will see to that. Who would hire you if they knew you sold yourself out to a grave robber?”
She ground her teeth together. “I said you can’t buy me.”
His smile faded. “You underestimate me. I’ll find out where it is sooner or later. I’m offering you the easy way. I advise you to take it.”
