his hawk of a nose. “I have never had the honor of meeting your father, Miss Magee.” He shot his cuff to glance at his watch. “I’m afraid that is all the time I can afford you. I’ll have Jafari show you out.”
Isis took a step forward. “Are you saying my father never visited you here?”
“As I stated quite plainly, I have never met Professor Magee. I’m sorry I couldn’t provide the information you wanted. Good day, Mr. Thorne. Miss Magee.”
“He’s lying!” Isis said under her breath as they watched him leave the room.
“No shit. Now to find out why. Come on.”
The eyes of dozens of surveillance cameras followed them through the house and outside to their vehicle.
“WHY WOULD HE LIE?” Isis demanded like a dog with a bone. She was turned sideways in her seat as he drove over July 26 Bridge back into the city, the late-afternoon sunlight making a glowing nimbus of her dark hair. She hadn’t even blinked when he retrieved his weapon from the hidden compartment under the floor mat on the driver’s side, where he’d stashed it, and laid it on the seat between them.
She pulled her camera case into her lap and dug in it for her phone. “I’m calling my father. Let’s see what he has to say.” She hit speed dial and put it on speaker so he could hear the ringing on the other end.
“Darling girl.”
“Daddy, how are you?”
“I found her, Isis. I found her!” The professor’s voice rose with excitement.
The her, Thorne presumed, was Cleopatra. The professor’s voice sounded eager and robust. But from reports, he was a pain in the ass and a demanding patient at Cresthaven, an Alzheimer facility just outside Seattle. Given that the place cost Isis more than she could afford made Thorne want to tell him to shut up and not add more burden to his daughter. But he knew she wouldn’t thank him for it. What did the professor want, an eighteen-hole golf course and a fishing lake?
“Found who, Daddy?”
“Cl—you know who,” he stage whispered. “I’m meeting my team after breakfast. I tell you, baby, this time the entire world will sit up and take notice! Tell your mother I won’t be home for several months. Perhaps you girls can come and visit me here in the summer. Would you like that, honey?”
“That will be great, Dad.” Isis kept her voice steady, but Thorne could feel her tight shoulders, and her set expression spoke volumes. “I just wanted to check to see how you’re doing.”
“We’re in a hotel right now. The food’s not bad, and the beds are clean. We head out to the site at first light.”
“Where is the site, Dad?”
There was a long pause before he said hesitantly. “I can’t tell you that, honey. You know even the walls have ears. I don’t want this to leak until I’ve found definitive proof my find is genuine.”
Isis squeezed her eyes shut. “Do you remember leaving a small basket containing a carpet tassel at Beniti’s?”
“Why would I do that? A carpet tassel from where?”
Isis met Thorne’s eyes and pulled an expressive face. Her father believed he was in Egypt and about to start the dig. He still had no memory of the events leading up to his supposed discovery of the tomb. So if he’d met Dr. Najid, it must’ve been very close to the time of his attack. All his memories stopped and started around the time he’d come to Cairo on his last dig. The most crucial month was gone.
Thorne avoided hitting a gang of street urchins running between heavy traffic. Horns blared, but nobody slowed down. A glance in the rearview mirror showed a blue Mercedes E Class on his right, about ten cars back, and an ancient-looking tan Audi directly behind him, weaving between the other vehicles.
He pressed the gas, listening to the disjointed conversation with only one ear as he navigated the congested road and watched the tails.
“The tassel led us to the Minister of Water and Irrigation, Dr. Khalifa Najid,” Isis pushed, determined to get something out of the old man. Thorne wanted to tell her she was wasting her time. “Does his name ring any bells?”
“None. I don’t like it here, Isis,” he said petulantly. “When can I leave?”
“Aren’t you about to go on a dig?” Isis asked tentatively.
“I—I am? No, honey, I think we’re at Connie and Al’s place… Or maybe this is the Mihms’ house? Let me ask your mother.”