Sands of Time (Out of Time #6) (24 page)

“Yes,” her father said, but he sounded unconvinced.

“You’re not superstitious, are you Arthur?” Simon asked.

Whiteside smiled. “Ordinarily, no. But there is something about standing here,” he said, looking around the empty tomb. “It gives one pause, doesn’t it?”

Elizabeth had to agree. Despite the heat, she felt a chill. The idea of sneaking into Akhenaten’s tomb had excited her before. Despite even Vale being here, it was an adventure. But now, all she felt was a growing sense of dread.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

They left the east valley and began the last leg of their journey over the hills to the fairly deserted west valley where Jouvet and his dig awaited them. As they crested the last hill, Elizabeth’s stomach rumbled. No one heard, or if they did, they had the grace not to say so. Judging from the looks on everyone’s faces though, their stomachs had the same idea.

Elizabeth was tired and definitely in need of sustenance. It had been a long, morning and the midday sun was taking its toll. Thankfully, Henri had promised them transportation back to the ferry, so this would only be a one-way hike.

Simon took Elizabeth’s hand as they descended the rocky slope toward the west valley floor. In the distance, she could see two large white tents set up for their luncheon. It was probably her imagination, but she could have sworn she smelled chicken cooking. She hurried Simon along a little bit faster.

When they reached the valley floor, Elizabeth saw the dig workers. Like the others, many of them carried baskets of debris on their shoulders and deposited them into a large dumping pile at the far end of the ravine.

Someone called out something in Arabic and everyone laid down their tools and their baskets en masse, and ran toward a pair of women and their donkeys—the Egyptian version of a lunch truck. Meals wrapped in brown paper were purchased with a few coins and then the men sat down in the shade of one of the cliffs to eat.

“Ah, you have survived,” Jouvet said, turning to greet them. As he did, Elizabeth saw Katherine Vale standing there. Her appetite dwindled.

Jouvet left the shade of the tent and met them with a broad smile. “The weary travelers. Perhaps some champagne will help?”

He gestured toward one of the tents. It had been set up with a long table and fine, white linens. Ice buckets resting on tall stands at each corner of the table stood ready with chilled wine and a waiter stood by several chafing dishes filled with food.

The Everetts wasted no time and headed straight for the booze.

Katherine Vale ran her long black gloves through the circle of one hand as she gazed at Elizabeth in pity. “Oh, dear. You do look done in, don’t you?”

The words were kind, but the tone was not. She relished in misery, other people’s misery.

“I think she looks beautiful,” Jouvet said. “So alive, uh?”

Vale smiled and it made Elizabeth’s blood run cold. Looking into those pale soulless eyes was unnerving. Finally, her attention shifted away. Elizabeth was relieved not to be the focus of her scrutiny until she heard Vale say, “Christina, my dear. It’s so good to see you again.”

Vale drifted over to the girl like a dark specter. “I see you’ve brought your sketchpad! I’m sure you’re very talented.”

Christina smiled guilelessly at her, pleased with the compliment.

“Perhaps you’ll sketch something for me?”

Elizabeth wanted to say, “over my dead body” and would have if Vale hadn’t been the sort to take her up on it.

It was disturbing though, watching Vale with her black feathered hat looking like a vulture, prey on an innocent like Christina. God only knew what she might have in store for the girl.

It was one part of their missions Elizabeth didn’t like to think about. Putting herself in danger was one thing, but putting the people they met in danger as well was another.

“You’ll have to get in line, I’m afraid,” Diana said, stepping forward and putting an arm around Christina’s shoulders. “You promised to sketch me today, remember?”

Christina grinned and blushed, overwhelmed by the attention.

Vale eyed Diana carefully, displeased at having been so neatly deposed.

“Perhaps another time,” Vale said.

Diana smiled sweetly, unfazed.

“Are you sure you won’t stay, cherie?” Jouvet asked.

Vale made a show of thinking about it. She glanced around at the group, her eyes lingering uncomfortably on Simon and Elizabeth.

“That’s very kind of you, or of me, since I’m paying for all this,” she added softly, “but no. I have things that need attending to.”

She turned back and offered one last strychnine smile. “Enjoy yourselves.”

With a wave of her gloves she summoned her car, which Elizabeth hadn’t even noticed was parked in the shadows. A beautiful Pierce-Arrow convertible pulled up and Jouvet gave Vale the European double-kiss and then helped her into the back seat.

As they drove away, Jack came up to stand with Simon and Elizabeth and watch the dusty trail the car left behind. “So, that’s her.”

“The wicked witch herself,” Elizabeth said.

Diana, having left Christina at the table enjoying a cool glass of lemonade, joined them. “I don’t like that woman.”

Simon nodded. “Welcome to the club.”

After they’d had some refreshment, Jouvet suggested they take a tour of the tomb before lunch while the workers were at rest.

Carefully, they made their way down the steep, rough-hewn steps at the mouth of the tomb. A small electric generator hummed and gave life to a string of lights that lit their path. Small, bright mechanic’s lights clung to the walls like giant lightning bugs.

Henri went first, followed by Elizabeth, and then Simon and the others.

The outer corridor walls were rough and unpainted.

“Was it unfinished?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes. We believe this tomb was originally built for Ay or perhaps another. It is difficult to say.” Henri held out his hand for Elizabeth as they passed through a dark gate that led into another corridor. “Watch your step.”

Elizabeth took the offered hand briefly, until she’d navigated the small gap.

“The outer walls remain incomplete. There are rough sketches, here,” he said, pointing to a wall in the second corridor where the rock had been smoothed. “You see the grid, and the outlines for the reliefs that were never carved or painted.”

“Why was it abandoned?”

“We do not know, but I think, I hope,” he added with a smile, “that it was used later, repurposed as a safe place to harbor the body of Akhenaten.”

Elizabeth exchanged a quick look with Simon. They certainly hoped so, too.

“Perhaps even Carter’s Tutankhamen might have built it to shelter his father.”

Elizabeth could see debris at the bottom of the shaft and a doorway. “Is that it? The burial chamber?”

Henri looked down at it. “The ante-chamber. Beyond that, there is one more small corridor and then, what I believe, I hope is the burial chamber.”

“Why the support beams there?” Simon asked.

Elizabeth had noticed them, too. The first few corridors were simply rock, but now they were at the start of one that was buttressed by a large wooden framework.

“The rock has changed,” Henri explained. “The limestone is very hard, very stable, but this,” he said, rapping his knuckles against the stone, “is shale. It, uh, what is the word…?”

“Fractures,” Simon supplied.

Henri nodded. “Yes, it is dangerous. We should not venture further until they have finished reinforcing the walls and the ceiling of this corridor and the other one below.” He gestured for them to return the way they’d come.

Elizabeth turned to start back up. She’d barely taken a step when she felt her dress snag on something and heard the tell-tale ripping of fabric.

“
Arrêtes!
” Henri commanded as he gripped her shoulder. “Do not move.”

To emphasize his point, bits of dust rained down from the ceiling above the crossbeam. Elizabeth held her breath as she waited for the whole thing to collapse on top of them.

Simon cautiously stepped closer and took hold of Elizabeth’s arm, ready to wrench her right out of her dress, if need be.

Elizabeth looked at him nervously and turned slowly back to Henri. He reached down and unhooked the fabric of her skirt that had snagged on a sharp protrusion from one of the support columns.

She’d thought she was out of the woods with clothes trying to kill her. No corset, no petticoats and yet, they still found a way to nearly do her in.

Henri glanced up at the ceiling again. The trickle of dust slowly subsided.

“Perhaps we should…” he gestured to the outside. “Carefully.”

Elizabeth nodded and started back up the corridor. She smiled sheepishly at Simon who scowled and let out a deep breath as he let her pass in front of him.

Once they were all safely outside, Henri angrily berated the foreman. Elizabeth felt guilty. She’d been the one who’d almost brought the house down, literally. But Henri would have none of it. Leaving something like that to catch on clothing was unacceptable. It could have been any one of them, he’d said.

Elizabeth wasn’t so sure. Somehow the any one was always her. Even when she wasn’t actively courting trouble, it turned into the boyfriend that just wouldn’t go away. Henri’s apologies only made her feel worse.

Finally, the furor died down and they settled in to lunch. It was catered by the hotel. Sublime coq au vin and a chilled glass of wine went a long way to making Elizabeth feel better.

With full bellies and perhaps a glass or two too many, everyone was in a fine mood, even the Everetts. Diana took a spot on a picturesque outcropping of rocks as Christina set about sketching her. Jack joined them, offering “helpful” advice.

“She seems to be recovering well,” Elizabeth said to Whiteside.

Her father watched Christina for a moment and nodded. “She’s a brave heart.” He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the table. “So, Jouvet. When can we expect to see the chamber?”

Henri tilted his head from side to side as he considered. “Two, perhaps three days. As you can see, there is still work to be done.”

“I’m sure it will be well worth the wait.” Whiteside lifted his glass in salute. “To Jouvet, and whatever treasures await us.” He waited for everyone else to follow suit before he drank. Elizabeth sipped her eau de vie. The pear taste was almost overwhelming, but pleasant.

Henri arched an eyebrow, unsure, but nodded his gratitude at their confidence in him. Even if he didn’t seem to share it at that moment.

“Treasure,” Trevor Everett said. “I’ll drink to that.”

Henri smiled, a little sadly Elizabeth thought, and set his drink down. “You will excuse me?”

He left the table and spoke briefly with his foreman again.

“Three days?” Everett complained. “What are we to do in the meantime?”

“This is ancient Thebes,” Whiteside said. “The capital of perhaps the greatest civilization the world has ever known. Surely, you can find some way to amuse yourself for a few days.”

“Of course, we can,” Constance said, laying a comforting hand on her husband’s arm. “The hotel has wonderful tennis courts.”

Elizabeth bit her tongue. Simon stared in awe at their stupidity, formulating a riposte and then clearly deciding they weren’t worth the bother. He turned to Arthur instead. “Thebes. That’s a Greek name for it, isn’t it?

Whiteside glowed with the prospect of an able and willing student. “Yes! The Egyptian name is Wase, or Wo’se or Waset. Of course, most of the names we use are Greek in origin…”

As he and Simon discussed the etymology of…everything, Elizabeth slipped off to speak with Henri. Despite Simon’s wishes she not speak with him more than was necessary, she had to at least apologize for almost ruining his dig.

She found him about twenty yards from his workers, leaning against a large rock, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Henri?”

He started and then looked down almost shyly.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He shook his head and straightened. “I was miles away,” he said with a smile.

“I wanted to apologize for, well,” Elizabeth said. “Nearly killing all of us earlier.”

He laughed. “It was not so bad as that. I am sorry you tore—”

Elizabeth waved his apology away. “It’s all right.” She needed to change tacks or they’d be caught in an endless loop of dueling apologies. “This is all very exciting. Thank you for letting us be a part of it.”

“You are most welcome.” His eyes drifted over to the tomb entrance. “If there is indeed something there, it is much more pleasurable to share the experience.”

He might have been a shameless Lothario, but Elizabeth liked him. She just couldn’t believe he was in league with the devil. “How did you and your mysterious benefactor, Mrs. Vale, meet?”

“She popped out of thin air,” he said and it took Elizabeth a moment to realize he didn’t mean that literally. “She was quite sure of what she wanted and,” he added with a smile, “quite convincing.”

Translation, she gave him more money than he could say no to.

“She made all of the plans, down to the last detail. She even told me where to dig.” He shrugged. “I am, how do you say, merely window dressing.”

“How did she know where?”

He shook his head. “She says,” he said, with a wry smile, “that the dead have told her.”

Elizabeth couldn’t suppress her shudder. She’d really hoped that part of Madame Petrovka’s schtick had been left in the past. “She talks to the dead?”

Henri grunted. “I have yet to meet a man or woman with more money than God who is not at least a little…eccentric. But please do not speak of this freely?”

She promised.

“It is bad enough with the talk of curses and people like Conan Doyle spinning their stories of death and the spirits,” he continued. “If word got out that my patroness believed she was a necromancer…”

“I won’t say anything.”

Henri nodded his thanks. “And the strangest part of my strange story is that I am starting to believe as well.”

Elizabeth felt a cold ball begin to form in the pit of her stomach.