The Curse of the Pharaoh #1 (8 page)

“It says…pathetic
fellah
.” He looked at his cousin. “
Fellah
?”

“
Fellahin
are Egyptian peasants. Go on.”

Dash read: “You will be struck by the pharaoh’s curse if you do not leave by dawn!”

Agatha’s heart beat faster.

“This changes everything!” she gushed. “The tablet is still here! Nobody stole it! It’s right in this camp!”

T
he next morning, the three detectives awoke bleary-eyed, but satisfied that they had made a big step in their investigation.

The message in newspaper clippings cleared the two laborers of any guilt.

Agatha had once read a book about Egyptian curses. The curse of Tutankhamen was the most famous, and many
fellahin
refused to work on tomb excavations because of such superstitions. Obviously the two poor laborers had fled the camp in a hurry, without telling a soul, because they were terrified by the curse.

So they hadn’t stolen the tablet.

There was only one possible conclusion: the precious find was hidden somewhere in the camp.

“You need to keep the three scientists away from base camp as long as possible,” Agatha told Chandler. “If we can find out where the tablet is hidden, we’ll also discover who stole it, right, Dash?”

“Um…what?” said Dash, still half asleep.

“Certainly, Miss Agatha,” responded the butler, tying a neat Windsor knot in his tie.

It was 7:25 a.m.

They went to the kitchen pavilion. Dr. Dortmunder was serving breakfast to the other two scientists, who sat at the plank table. He wore a funny Bavarian apron around his broad waist.

“Black coffee and chocolate doughnuts,” he
said with a laugh. “We’ll need a truckload of energy to face today’s mission!”

Dr. Paretsky looked disgusted. “In Poland, breakfast consists of an omelette, kielbasa sausage, and pickles,” he commented sourly.

Maigret gulped down his cup of
café au lait
and went off to talk to Jafar. “While we’re gone, he’ll be in charge of base camp security,” he explained.

The Mistery cousins exchanged knowing glances.

By the time Professor Maigret returned, Chandler had already started the jeep’s engine. Paretsky sat tall and straight. Dortmunder had his rifle ready. Although he wished he was holding a family-size tub of pistachio ice cream instead.

“Ready,” announced Maigret, climbing into the jeep. “See you later, kids!”

“Bon voyage!”
Agatha called to him. “Be careful,” she said to Chandler.

He nodded and stepped on the gas. The jeep skidded on the gravel and took off in a cloud of dust.

“Now it’s all up to us!” Agatha exclaimed after Jafar had headed back to camp.

“How are we going to pull this off?” asked Dash. “We have to make sure Jafar’s out of the way. And the rest of the workers.”

“You’re right,” she said. “First let’s go down to the dig and make sure they’re all busy. Then we can search the rest of the camp for clues.”

And that’s what they did. Dash used his heat sensor to make sure that the whole crew was accounted for.

Some of the laborers split rocks with their pickaxes and others carried up buckets filled to the brim with crushed rock. Jafar sat at a long counter, sifting through rock fragments, peering
at them with a jeweler’s magnifying eyepiece and carefully labeling samples for further analysis.

Several more laborers carted off the discarded material, piling it onto a mound a short distance away from the cordoned-off quarry.

“Good morning, Mr. Jafar,” said Agatha. “How’s it going?”

“Same as usual,” sneered the excavation director. “Nothing of interest.”

“Dash and I have the whole day free. Would you like some help?”

“Read that sign,” he snapped, not even bothering to meet her eyes. “Authorized personnel only.”

Agatha feigned deep disappointment. “Oh, too bad! I was so hoping to learn more about your noble profession. It’s so fascinating.”

Jafar looked up, stroking his pointy beard as he stared at them. The jeweler’s loupe magnified
his right eye, making his hypnotic gaze even stranger. “Maybe after lunch I can give you a couple of tips,” he conceded. “But you must run off now and let me attend to my work.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Jafar,” Agatha said happily. “That’s super nice of you!”

Frowning, he squinted at her through the eyepiece.

Dash and Agatha hurried away. “Cool,” Dash said under his breath. “He won’t be back at the camp until noon at least. We’re on our own.”

“Exactly,” said Agatha. “Where shall we start? Jafar’s tent or the pavilion?”

“At school, they taught us to rule out the long shots first,” said Dash. “That Jafar guy gives me the creeps. So I vote for the pavilion.”

“Bedrooms or lab?”

“Let’s check out their rooms while we know they’re away.”

They entered the pavilion, eyes wide with curiosity. It was the first time they’d been in the main tent alone. Skipping the kitchen, they went right to the sleeping quarters.

The space was divided into thirds by woven reed dividers; there were three cots, three nightstands, and three wardrobe trunks.

Agatha shot her cousin a questioning look. “So what would your teachers tell us to do next?”

“Always search the most ordinary places first.” Dash grinned. “Are you checking to see if I dozed off in class?”

“A little refresher course never hurts!”

They checked under the beds, finding nothing but sand. They patted down all the bedding and pillows. No luck. Then they opened the wardrobe trunks, checking to see that there were no false bottoms.

Still nothing.

“It would be pretty hard to hide a clay tablet
in here,” said Agatha. “But we might turn up some clues.”

Dash looked through the drawers. In Maigret’s nightstand, under a pile of papers, he found an old revolver, well oiled and loaded. “What a weird-looking gun,” he said without touching it. “You take a look, you’re the expert.”

Agatha carefully picked it up with a handkerchief, to avoid leaving fingerprints, and examined it.

Dash knew what she was about to say. “Let me guess. Does it have to do with a memory drawer?” he asked wryly.

She smiled, playing along. “If my memory serves me correctly, this is a World War Two German Luger,” she observed. “There’s an encyclopedia of firearms in the Mistery Estate library. Maybe the professor collects antique guns.”

“It’s the first suspicious thing we’ve turned
up,” said Dash. “Why would Professor Maigret need a gun? It could mean he’s up to no good…”

Agatha nodded, replacing the gun in the drawer in the exact same position and covering it with the pile of papers.

They spent another half hour rummaging through the three professors’ possessions, reading their notebooks, letters, and official contracts. Then they went to the laboratory.

It was the biggest space in the pavilion, chockfull of books, computers, and equipment used to analyze archaeological finds: microscopes, electronic scales, centrifuges, infrared lamps, and a stash of syringes, pipettes, tweezers, and chemical reactants.

“I’ll check out the cupboards,” Dash suggested.

“Good idea,” said Agatha, surprised he was taking the lead. Though it
was
his exam, after all. “Be careful not to leave any traces.”

They each took a pair of sterile gloves from a box on the workbench.

Ever since she was little, Agatha had loved playing in her parents’ lab, so she knew quite a bit about analytical testing. It seemed that every machine in this lab had been turned off after the tablet was stolen. There were a thousand chemical clues to collect, but they’d need more time to do the search justice.

Just before noon they stopped to compare notes.

“Did you find anything?” asked Dash. “I’ve got zero.”

“Nothing yet. It would take years to examine all this.”

“But we’ve just got a day and a half. Then they flunk me,” Dash said gloomily.

Agatha tried to comfort him. “Look on the bright side. If there’s nothing here, that means
it’s more likely we’ll find something in Jafar’s tent…”

“Okay, let’s keep going!”

Agatha put her plastic gloves in her pocket—it wouldn’t be safe to leave them in the trash can—and started to follow him out of the lab. On the threshold, she turned to call Watson.

The cat was curled up on the workbench. In the bright midday sun, she could see that his white fur was covered in dust.

“Wait, Dash!” she exclaimed. “I’ve got an idea!” She grabbed the infrared lamp and put it on the workbench. When she pressed the switch, Watson jumped up and ran under the counter, his tail bushing out.

“What are you doing, cousin?”

“Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” Agatha said. “The tablet sat here on the bench for a whole day!”

“So what?”

“The infrared lamp can detect individual particles of clay,” she explained. “Look!”

A light dust appeared on the workbench, the same shape as the tablet they’d seen in the photograph.

Agatha raised her arms in victory. “Yes!”

Without wasting a minute, she drew some dust into a syringe, transferring it into a small vial in the centrifuge. “This will tell us the exact chemical composition,” she said, satisfied.

“Why do we need to know that?” Dash asked, bewildered.

“To find the tablet, dear cousin!”

When the centrifuge stopped, a sequence of numbers appeared. Dash’s face brightened. “You’re a genius, Agatha!” he said, taking out his EyeNet. He quickly scrolled through the menu. “I just have to find the right function!”

When he was ready, Agatha carefully read the sequence of numbers, and he keyed them in. Then they left the pavilion, keeping an eye on the EyeNet’s monitor as they waited for a signal.

Dash crisscrossed the site, followed closely by Agatha. At long last, as they were approaching the quarry, the EyeNet gave an unmistakable
BEEP!

“To the quarry!” shouted both Mistery cousins.

They broke into a run. The hot sun was high overhead, and all the workers sat in the shade eating lunch, except for Jafar, who was scrutinizing a pebble through his loupe with intense concentration.

The two young detectives crept through the site. Ducking from tent to tent, they moved quickly and did their best to stay hidden from view.

Dash checked the EyeNet again, setting the signal to
VIBRATE
mode. It was coming from the mound of discarded stones. Perfect—they wouldn’t have to cross the barbed wire.

Unnoticed, they reached the far side of the mound.

“The tablet is somewhere under this rock pile. Start digging!” Dash whispered. He set his Eyenet on the ground and sank his hands into the crumbled rocks, digging hole after hole. Panting with heat and exhaustion, he turned to face Agatha, who was sitting stock-still with the EyeNet in her hands.

“Why aren’t you helping?” he asked.

Agatha looked upset. “Dash, look at the EyeNet,” she whispered, passing it to him.

He gazed at the screen and fell silent instantly. The pattern of clay particles was spread out all over the mound, in an area far too large for a tablet.

“It must have been pulverized,” Agatha said. “The tablet we’re looking for doesn’t exist anymore. Somebody destroyed it.”