Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 The fat man stood up, giving them cover for an instant. Dan grabbed the chance. He dodged behind a thick curtain, pulling Amy after him. They found themselves in a short hallway that led to a side door. They dashed outside. Now they were in an even smaller alley that snaked behind the shops. They knew Irina would be out there in a matter of seconds. They dodged a cart piled high with crates and a surprised man sleeping in the sun. Seeing a back door to a shop, they ran through it into a storeroom. It was dark and dusty, and Dan started to wheeze. "Use your inhaler," Amy said. "It's… in… Nellie's… carry-on," Dan got out. He hated this feeling. As though someone were squeezing his lungs. It happened at the worst

times. "Good place for it. Come on." Amy quickly led Dan out of the dusty storeroom and into the store. It was bright and airy, with spangled belly dancing costumes hanging from the ceiling. "Welcome! You are looking for lovely costume? I'll give you a deal!" "Not my color! But thanks!" Dan called as he ran out. Down another twisting street, then another. Finally, Amy ordered a halt. "We lost her." "For now." Dan grabbed her elbow. "Amy, look." Only a few feet away, they saw a sign: S A K H ET In the dramatically red-curtained window, a statue stood alone. Blue stone, with a lion's head, standing tall and proud. Amy and Dan looked at each other. Without a word, they pushed into the shop.

They made a beeline for the Sakhet statue. It was obviously very old. The surface was worn and one of the lion's ears had cracked off. The shop owner hurried forward, a thin, eager man in black pants and a white shirt. "You are interested? She is beautiful. Authentic, not a replica. Once owned by Napoleon," the man went on. "You have an excellent eye." "Napoleon? Isn't that an Italian pastry?" Dan asked. "Sort of gooey inside?" Amy rolled her eyes. "You're the one with goo— for brains. Napoleon was the French emperor. Remember, he conquered the world? We saw a picture of him in the Lucian stronghold back in Paris? He's a Cahill. One of our ancestors." The Lucian branch of the Cahill family had a strategic sense that was amazing. Of course, their powers had dwindled down to the petty, nasty deeds of Ian and Natalie Kabra and the crazy Russian Irina Spasky. "If he'd picked out this Sakhet, it could be important," Dan said. "It can't be this easy," Amy said.

"Why not, when everything else has been so hard?" Dan pointed out. The shopkeeper raised his voice, trying to get them back again. "I see you are fascinated. Yes, Napoleon owned many treasures. Some went back to France, some stayed here." He put his hand on the statue and caressed it. "Are your parents with you? I'll give you the best price. I have the premier shop in Cairo." "No, thanks," Dan said. Back home, he was a collector. He knew the best way to bargain was to pretend you didn't care. "Come on, Amy. Let's keep looking. Why would Napoleon have stuff in Egypt, anyway?" "Napoleon invaded Egypt in 1798," Amy said. "Ah, the young lady knows her history. I would be so proud if this statue came into her brilliant hands. Here." He gave her the statue. It felt strange to touch something so old. Something Napoleon had touched. Every so often she got a deep thrill from a sense of her own DNA linking like a chain down a line leading to a bunch of extraordinary people. Napoleon!

"Only two thousand," he said. Amy jumped. "Two thousand dollars?" "For you, fifteen hundred. Someone from the Cairo Museum is interested in this piece. He is coming back at four o'clock." "I doubt that, Abdul." Amy turned. She'd noticed the tall, blond stranger browsing at the other part of the store. She hadn't noticed him draw closer. He was in his twenties, dressed in a T-shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals. His eyes were vivid green next to his tan. "Unless he's looking for a trinket for his key ring," he said in a British accent. He plucked the Sakhet from her hands. "I'd date this piece at… maybe 2007?" "Really, Theo, you are mistaken," the shopkeeper said, smiling uneasily. "This is authentic, I assure you—" "Assurances aside, I think you're trying to take these two youngsters for a ride on the fake artifact express," the man named Theo said. "He said Napoleon had owned it," Dan said.

"Maybe," Theo said. "Joe Napoleon down the street runs a great Italian restaurant." "I told you Napoleon was Italian," Dan said scornfully to Amy. "Actually, he was born in Corsica," Theo said. "Would you kids like to see the rest of the shop?" "No need," Abdul said quickly. "I see I don't have what you want. Perhaps next door you'll find what you're looking for. It's time for my tea break, so…" Theo strode past him and pushed open a heavy curtain. At a long table, several workers were hunched over. Amy stood on tiptoe as the shop owner tried to block her view. The workers were using wire brushes and sandpaper on a row of statues similar to the Sakhet. They were sanding and brushing them in order to make them look old. Abdul shrugged. "Hey, it's a living." "No harm, no foul," Theo said. Just then Dan grabbed Amy's arm. Peering through the window and shading her eyes was Irina.