Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19 The blond archaeologist, or should she say thief, seemed nervous. Probably because he was double- crossing a couple of kids whose only legacy from their beloved grandmother was a crazy contest they were bound to lose and a priceless statue. And thanks to him, they'd lost the statue. Well, sore luck for them, Irina thought. The guidebook had turned out to be a dead end. No hints, just notes in the margins, stupid things like don't miss this! and good food here. A big fat zero for any Aswan Clues. What a waste of time. She'd already thrown it away. Having Grace's thoughts, no matter how trivial, just made her eye twitch. Irina circled back around to the café where Theo Cotter sat waiting, his fingers drumming on

the small tiled table, the bag at his feet. She knew she hadn't been followed. She'd passed by the café three times to make sure. She slid into the chair next to him. "You have the Sakhet?" "You have the money?" She inclined her head. "As we agreed. It will be wired to Swiss account once I authenticate the statue." She had no intention of wiring the money. She didn't need the statue, she needed what was inside it. Lucians had been searching for it over the centuries. She wasn't sure why, but once she had it, she'd know. "First, I will examine in ladies' room." She picked up the small bag, then moved through the tables to the restroom. She locked the door securely. She turned over the statue in her hands. It was a Sakhet, she knew that, with a lion's head. Golden, as had been reported by the great Lucian Napoleon. The eyes were emeralds, she supposed— she didn't know anything about gems. Everything appeared to be as it should be. Irina

tapped the statue gently, searching for the trick to open it. She saw a hairline crack along the lion's mane. She slid a narrow stiletto (so useful that knife had been over the years!) into the crack and the head revolved counterclockwise easily. It revealed a small compartment inside. Turning the statue over again, she shook it. A rolled piece of papyrus fell out. It sounded like a load of horseradish. But the hints toward Clues never did make sense, until you got to the place where you were guided. Rabat was a city in Morocco. No doubt everything would be clear once she got there. Carefully, Irina slid the secret compartment closed. She put the paper in her pocket and the statue back into the bag. She threaded her way back through the tables and plunked the bag back down at Cotter's feet. "I'm surprised you would try to cheat me," she

said. "That is never good idea. This is fake statue." "But I assure you, it's genuine." "Ha! You think for me I was born last Thursday? No money for you." Irina got up and hurried away. She wondered if the airport had direct flights to Morocco. The ancient city of Rabat was her next stop. As she jumped into a taxi, she congratulated herself. She'd gotten over that brief moment of sentiment in Nefertari's tomb. She couldn't allow herself to be weak again. Once she had the 39 Clues, she could maybe afford to be generous. Or maybe not generous, no need to go overboard. Maybe just a little… less strict. Until then, she would allow no more distractions. And she would never step foot in another tomb. Too many ghosts. Too many memories… Irina's eye began to twitch. "Aswan airport. And step on it with foot!"