For some reason, she lost her breath. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen him in a few days. Maybe it was because his facial hair was a millimeter longer and seemed to accentuate his straight jawline. Despite that, her attention was drawn to the warmth in his rectangle eyes.
“Haven’t seen you around much lately,” she accused, even if she was glad to see him.
“I’ve been helping out Dr. El-Baz with the mastaba,” he explained. Hearing his voice again awoke the flutters in her abdomen. So deep, strong, and rich. She could listen to him all day. “He’s been given the honors of finishing that little project.”
“Oh. Then what are you doing over here?” Hopefully looking for one of his “excuses.”
He lifted the black camera bag hanging on his shoulder. “Bringing this back to Emma.”
Slightly disappointed, Leila shook her head. “Don’t go in there.”
“Why not?” He lifted an eyebrow.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Reporters.”
“Ah. I guess Emma can wait.”
“Yeah.” Leila chewed on her lower lip as an awkward silence fell over them. She threw a glance over her shoulder toward the tomb, remembering her destination. Torn between continuing their conversation and doing her life’s work, she reluctantly took a step away. This wasn’t the place to talk about anything personal, anyway. “Well, I should… go. Stuff to do.”
“Right.” Xander backed up, turning halfway in the other direction. “Have fun.”
“You too,” she said, walking backward.
“Watch your head.” He took a few more steps back, his eyes not leaving her face.
“Thanks,” was all she could manage, even though she wanted to ask why he couldn’t stay. There was plenty of work to be done. He didn’t have to talk to anyone if he didn’t want to. She’d distract the reporters from him all day if she had to.
Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. The more she stared at him, the more memories began to resurface. The glint in his eyes before he had drawn her toward him. The way his stubble had scratched at her cheeks. Tearing her gaze away, she spun around and jogged the remaining distance to the tomb. She couldn’t deny it. The sudden distance between them hurt. But maybe it was better that he stayed away. He was more distracting than ever.
Leila managed to push Xander to the back of her mind as she made her way underground, holding her head low as the top of her hard hat bumped against the ceiling. All traces of the cave-in had disappeared. Instead, it had transformed into a construction zone. Workers drilled and hammered as they finished installing the new support system. With steel frames lining the tunnels, another accident shouldn’t happen. Although it was still unknown what awaited them on the other side of the door, their exit would at least be clear.
She jumped to work. Together with Hamza, she helped install a protective tarp over the stairs leading down into the tunnel to Neferkheri’s tomb. Some of the steps were deemed to be too weak, so they were finishing a makeshift staircase of wood over the ancient steps to preserve them from the increase in traffic.
Leila sat at the bottom of the stairs and inspected their work. Satisfied the tarp was secure, she glanced up the stairs and gave Hamza a thumbs up, indicating he could proceed with the hammering. She then fetched a cut two-by-four and a package of nails.
As they finished with the last step, a figure appeared at the top of the staircase. Leila wiped the sweat from her brow with her wrist and glanced up at the newcomer. From underneath his hard hat, Soliman beamed.
“How’s it coming along?”
“We’re just finishing up here,” Leila said, tossing her hammer into a bucket of tools. The sound of a saw biting through a piece of wood came from somewhere in the burial chamber behind Soliman. “Still have to clean up.”
Using the switch to his left, Soliman clicked the new overhead lights on and off.
“Safety precautions are all in place,” he said. “It looks like we’re going to have a tomb opening tomorrow.”
Hands on hips, Leila’s gaze wandered down the hall, overlooking the plastic coverings and piles of cut wood. Microscopic sawdust blurred the air in a yellowish haze. That they would soon be inside an untouched tomb didn’t seem possible in this mess.
She turned back to Soliman, who gingerly made his way down the stairs, leaning against the handrail.
“Have you decided how to get the door open?” she wondered aloud.
“Well, I’ll do my best to remove the seal in one piece. The doors are made of limestone, so it will take the better part of a day to remove them, if we’re to do it carefully.” Soliman paused and tapped his chin. He chuckled. “Or we can be like Carter and use a sledgehammer.”
Someone called down the stairs to Soliman.
“I’m technically not supposed to be down here. Doctor’s orders.” He winked then began to make his way back up, one hand tightly gripping the rail as he placed both feet on each step before attempting the next.
Soon after he was gone, the clean-up began. As the last one downstairs, Leila picked up the remaining tool bucket and clomped up the new wooden stairs.
The tomb was quiet as she passed through the tunnels, shutting off the lights behind her as she went. As she left the entry, she paused and squinted to allow her eyes to adjust to the sunlight. An excited chatter of different languages drifted from behind a chain-link barrier. Leila let out a gasp as the scene came into focus.
Men and women swarmed the area, some carrying cameras, others with iPads or microphones with fuzzy wind covers. Many of the reporters were decked out to the nines in hiking gear like they were going on a twenty-five-mile expedition through the Sahara. People trod over a mess of cables covering the ground—a sight that resembled Indiana Jones’ worst nightmare.
“Oh boy,” she muttered. With a deep breath, she walked briskly toward the tent before anyone could stop her for questions.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
At the break of dawn, the archaeologists gathered in the tent by the tomb’s entrance. Soliman only had to make the final decision of who would go underground for the opening. Space was limited, so Soliman had arranged with a news agency for one of the archaeologists to wear a camera. Those remaining above ground would watch live.
The first suggestion that went around was Karl should wear the camera, but he insisted he had to stay in the tent and make sure the computers were working properly in case of disturbances. Emma refused to wear it as well. She would be busy taking pictures to document the process and it would only get in the way.
The task fell on Leila. She had no problem with that—it meant she didn’t have to be in front of the camera.
Outside the tent, the excavation site bustled with activity from archaeologists and reporters alike. Leila patiently kept still while Steve from BBC clipped the button-sized camera to the collar of her shirt, her eyes on the armed guards who unlocked the gates. Reporters shouted questions to her from behind the barrier. At least three of them asked if the tomb was booby-trapped or cursed. Leila squeezed her lips together—the question was cute the first time she heard it.
“There you are.” Steve backed away and gave her a thumbs up. “The world is watching.”
As Leila retreated from the frenzy, she cast a brief glance over the crowd. Xander was nowhere in sight. Hiding probably. There’s no way he would have missed this. Trying to push thoughts of him from her mind, she rejoined the archaeologists gathered in the area in front of the tomb. The crowd fell silent.
