He dropped my hand the second my booted foot touched the ground.
“Gracias.” I dropped my voice. “What’s wrong, Whit?”
He raised his brows. “Why, nothing, Olivera.” He smiled, but it looked forced. The kind of smile I used with my uncle.
Whit walked over to the driver to assist with the luggage. Hotel attendants rushed forward to greet us, and they led our party through the grand entrance decorated in gold and maroon with arched doorways and beautifully carved wooden furniture, the elegance rivaling Shepheard’s. I barely had time to take in every detail before we were led straight out to the terrace overlooking the Nile River.
“Abdullah!” my uncle called out to an older man dressed in a casual suit, well-made but without any pretension. His rich brown skin contrasted with the pale cream of his linen shirt, and a young woman leaned forward to adjust one of the buttons at the collar. She was dressed in a comfortable walking dress, serviceable, and without any frills. A light shawl around her shoulders fluttered in the cool breeze and on her feet were strong leather boots. She was pretty, with luminous skin and warm brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence.
Abdullah and Farida.
Whit immediately strode toward her with a wide grin, and she stood to greet him with a matching smile. Abdullah clasped hands with my uncle and he motioned for the rest of us to gather around the wood table. Before I took my seat, I approached Abdullah.
“Sir,” I said, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m the daughter of Cayo and Lourdes Olivera—”
“But I know exactly who you are,” he cut in. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black, but I detected the concern in their depths. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Se?orita Olivera.”
I swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden moisture filling my eyes, and I blindly took a seat next to the young woman, who inclined her head.
“You’re the photographer,” I said.
Farida laughed. “How wonderful that sounds. I’m learning photography, but I’m not a professional. Yet.” Her voice was warm and sweet, and she motioned toward a wooden box that sat on the table with a circular lens, a leather carrying case next to it. “I was just taking a photo of my grandfather.”
My mouth dropped open. “Is that a Kodak?”
Farida nodded. “My grandfather bought me one during his travels. It can take up to one hundred pictures with a click of a button.”
“One hundred? Marvelous,” I exclaimed, reaching to brush my finger against the frame. An invisible spark jumped, reaching toward me, as if I’d found a hidden current. My eyes flew to hers and she winked at me.
I stared down at the portable camera in astonishment. It had been made with a magic-touched object. Farida lifted it off the table and snapped a photo, and for the next half hour, we took pictures of my uncle and Abdullah, of a laughing Whit as he struck silly poses, and of the glimmering Nile River curling around the rocky bluff. We ate a delicious meal of falafel, hummus, and a creamy tahini dip, and drank hibiscus tea loaded with sugar. Whit had been right, I adored it.
Abdullah wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “I hate to bring up business, but where is your new hire, Ricardo?”
“He had plans, evidently,” Tío Ricardo said with a roll of his eyes. “But he and his daughter will meet us in the lobby tomorrow morning.”
“And the pair have been sworn to secrecy?”
I swung my head in Abdullah’s direction. Despite the cool drink I’d been enjoying, my mouth went dry. The square card tucked within my bag swam across my vision. “Secrecy?”
“She doesn’t yet know what we do,” Ricardo said.
“You haven’t told her?” Abdullah asked in surprise.
I clutched the edge of the table, my attention swerving from one man to the other. Were they all involved with my uncle’s illegal activities? And were they about to share what exactly they did? Out here, in the middle of the terrace, the sun shining, and fellow diners surrounding us? Farida taking pictures?
Ricardo took a sip of his espresso. “I didn’t originally factor her into our plans, and besides, it’s your kingdom, Abdullah. I merely work in it. I thought it prudent to speak with you first. Inez has a certain talent that might be useful.” They shared a look, loaded with meaning, but one I couldn’t interpret. Farida raised the Kodak and clicked the button.
“What kind of talent?” Abdullah asked.
“I am an artist,” I said, my brow furrowing. “I can copy the architecture of Philae with relative ease, I think.”
Farida nodded in approval. “It will be a nice complement to the photographs I’ve taken.”
“Exactly,” Tío Ricardo said. “What do you think, Abdullah?”
“Given her parents’ deaths, she deserves to know,” he replied.
“I quite agree.” Whit pushed his empty plate aside. He stood, his expression apologetic. “Forgive me, but I have a few errands I must run before we set out tomorrow morning. It was a wonderful meal.”
With a small wave, he ventured off, even as I sat reeling in my chair. He was a part of the secret. The nefarious secret. The confirmation left me feeling unaccountably sad.
“Then I advise that you tell her only what she needs to know,” my uncle said, picking up the thread of conversation. “I can’t promise that she’ll be here overly long.”
My mouth flattened. I understood my uncle’s implication all too well. He ruled my life, and any moment, he could decide to send me back to Argentina. There was no sense in telling me everything, even if I had a right to know what they were up to. My parents only funded their whole enterprise, after all.
“For over a decade, I have been leading an excavation team in various locations with the hope of understanding the heritage of my countrymen,” Abdullah began. “Over the years, we have made astounding discoveries.”
I frowned. “But I never heard of any.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Abdullah replied. “Because after every single one, I’ve given the directive to cover our tracks. It was actually my sister Zazi’s idea, and before she passed, she asked Ricardo and I to continue the practice. No one on my team is allowed to take anything, or reveal what they have seen. We have kept the same loyal crew since the beginning, and our goal is to record what we’ve found so that future generations can learn about our history.”
Farida reached over and took his hand. The affection between the two shone between them like starlight.
This was the nefarious secret? I had been expecting . . . I shook my head, aware that they were all waiting for my reaction. “I think it’s a tremendous undertaking,” I said slowly. “And I’m happy to be a part of it, however small.”
“Welcome to Egypt, Inez,” Abdullah said, smiling broadly.
I clenched my hands in my lap, hardly hearing the words. My uncle worked for Abdullah because it was what his wife would have wanted. He dealt with the awful bureaucrats in Cairo, endured countless hours digging under a hot sun, and worked alongside his brother-in-law—all for the love of his departed wife.