“Where are we?”
“The Valley of the Kings,” Tío Ricardo tossed over his shoulder, picking his way through the rubble. We emerged in sunlight. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to readjust to the hot glare. Tío Ricardo immediately began the descent to the bottom of the stony hill, covered in dry sand and sharp boulders. I looked behind me, startled to find an immense rocky cliff rise up from the desert floor. We’d come out of a tunnel that had led to the tomb, hidden deep in the limestone. There were several gaping holes dotting the facade of the mountain and I stopped, my gaze narrowing. My cousin might be trapped in one of the tombs.
“Hurry,” Tío Ricardo yelled. He’d reached the bottom and turned, glaring up at us where we stood at the top of the switchback.
“No,” I yelled down. “We can’t leave without Elvira. She’s here somewhere—”
A gunshot rang out.
I let out a terrible scream as my uncle was catapulted off his feet and flung backward. Blood bloomed on his left arm. I ran down the pebbled slope of the hill, and tripped over my long skirt.
Whit was next to me in an instant, and dragged me up to my feet. I shrugged him off and kept moving, and then I fell again onto my knees next to my uncle’s prone body.
“Tío!”
He blinked up at me, his eyes dazed and out of focus. I ripped the hem of my skirt and pressed the fabric against his wound.
“Shit,” Whit said, bending to pick up my uncle’s pistol. “Here they come.”
Four men approached on horseback, the sound roaring in the valley. They formed a half circle around us, one man pulling at the reins of his horse, looking down at me in cold fury. I wouldn’t have recognized him. He wore dark clothing, his hair slicked back with too much pomade. He’d removed the spectacles and foppish smile.
The American businessman who shyly asked me to dinner and delivered me mail.
Mr. Burton.
His associates, including the tall blond man, had their weapons already drawn and aimed at every one of us.
“Mr. Hayes, please do me the honor of lowering your gun,” Mr. Burton said. “Good, now kick it away from you. Any more tricks up your sleeve? Knives and that sort of thing? No? Fine.”
Then Mr. Burton turned his attention to me. The force of his cold fury nearly knocked me over.
“Stand up and away from Ricardo, Inez,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He dismounted on the left side of his horse, and his companions followed suit, their guns still trained on us.
I recognized the burly man, the mean line of muscle that corded his arms. The other two, the tall blond and the other with a thick beard, drew near Whit.
“If you can keep your hands up, I’d be most grateful,” Mr. Burton said.
Whit complied with a grimace.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Stand up, Inez,” Mr. Burton said. “And move away from your uncle.”
“But he’s hurt. Please, let me help him.”
“I wasn’t aware you were a physician,” Mr. Burton said coldly. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at my heart. “I won’t repeat myself. Stand up.”
“Stand up, Olivera,” Whit said, his face paling.
I prepared to stand but my uncle gripped my wrist. His eyes widened slightly, and then flicked downward, toward his necktie. Without stopping to think, I pulled at the knot, and it loosened. I stood, slipping the fabric off his neck, and quickly stuffed it inside the pocket of my dress.
I stepped away from my uncle, thinking fast. It wasn’t a weapon but it was something.
“Bring the girl,” Mr. Burton said to the burly man. He brushed past, knocking into my shoulder. I teetered on my feet, and barely managed to stay upright.
Whit swung around, snarling. The burly man laughed, and disappeared into one of the tunnels visible on the rocky surface.
“It seems burying you alive wasn’t enough of a motivator,” Mr. Burton said.
“What do you want?” I exploded.
“I want the artifacts your mother stole from me. I want to know where she went. You both worked together on Philae; she clearly trusted you.”
“She left me behind, and took the treasure. I don’t know where she went. The last person who saw her is that tall gentleman standing next to you.”
“The bitch double-crossed us the minute we arrived in Cairo,” the blond spat out.
Mr. Burton cocked his gun, and Whit immediately stood in front of me. “Lower it,” he growled. “She’s telling you the truth. She doesn’t know her mother’s whereabouts.”
“Oh, I believe her now,” Mr. Burton said. “But fortunately my plan worked to draw forward the person who knows the answer to my question.” He pointed to my uncle. “The bullet grazed him, sit him up.”
Two of Mr. Burton’s companions dismounted and strode to Ricardo and dragged him up to his knees. Blood stained his cotton shirt, and he flinched at the rough movement.
“We’ll wait a moment until we’re all together,” Mr. Burton said.
Whit’s gaze flickered from Mr. Burton to the rest of the men surrounding us. His shoulders were tense, hands clenched into a fist. The burly man appeared at the head of the tunnel, a slight figure hunched by his side. I gasped, and started to move forward—
“Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere, Mr. Hunt, if you please,” Mr. Burton said.
One of the men propping up Ricardo darted toward me, but Whit intercepted him. “Stand back.”
I immediately stopped out of terror for Whit. I didn’t like the way Mr. Burton’s goons sized him up, as if he were disposable. Mr. Burton eyed me shrewdly, and I looked away, furious that I had given away my feelings for Whit.
The burly man approached, dragging Elvira down the side of the rocky hill. She still wore the same golden dress from the New Year’s ball. A bruise married her cheek and her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying. Someone had gagged her with a thick rope. The material had rubbed her skin raw. Fury bubbled in my veins, threatening to spill over, but Mr. Burton still had his weapon aimed straight at me.
“Elvira,” I said raggedly.
She met my gaze. In the span of twenty-four hours, she’d lost something vital. The ability to look at the world and see promise. Now she looked at the world and it scared her. I wanted to tell her that it would be all right, but I didn’t want to lie to her.
“Where is your sister?” Mr. Burton turned toward my uncle. “You know her better than anyone.”
The words came out slowly, each one pulled out of my uncle as if with pliers. “Not as well as I thought.”
“You suspected her involvement with The Company,” Mr. Burton said. “And I know you followed her to the warehouse, Mr. Hayes. Where could she have gone? Because she’s not in Cairo.”
My uncle flinched. Something had clearly occurred to him.
“Tell me,” Mr. Burton said.
“I will once you release my nieces, and Whit. They have nothing to do with this.”
Mr. Burton narrowed his gaze. “Seems highly unlikely.”
“It’s the truth.”