interpret the phrase, ‘past the great pyramids.’ It could mean any point beyond these frescoes.”
“You mean you had a specific location to search?”
“Look.” She rounded on him. “I’m not the one who insisted that you follow me. So yes, I had a specific place to search, and by assigning you a different wall, I hoped I might search this one in peace.”
Sydney saw Griffin take a calming breath, probably telling himself that he’d be better off taking the professor to an interrogation room and questioning her as he would any other source he needed to squeeze information from.
Francesca retraced her steps, walking past the frescoed pyramids, past the river that was supposed to represent the Nile, past the palm trees and a stretch of what appeared to be barren hills, where two columns had been depicted flanking an opening in the hills where a harp stood. “The tomb of the harp.”
Sydney looked at the pyramids, then at the harp. “There’s a clue hidden here? Something leading to yet another chamber?”
“That’s my hypothesis.”
“And then what?” Griffin asked.
“And then I follow it to see where it leads. Nothing more.” She stood there, staring at the wall. “As you can see, the problem is that there is nothing else. This is the farthest I’ve ever penetrated.”
Griffin raised his hand in a gesture of silence.
“What’s wrong?” Sydney asked.
“I’m not sure. A sound up the stairs.”
Sydney heard something as well. An echo of a scrape, and Griffin said, “You locked the gate after us?”
“Yes,” Francesca said.
“Is there any other way in here?”
“None that I know of.”
Which didn’t sound too positive, Sydney thought, as Griffin drew his gun, then looked around. “Let’s hope it’s the wind, or the owner coming to check on us. But just in case, we need some cover. Can you hide in these fireplace things?” he asked Francesca, flicking his light on the loculi that were off to the right of the Nile painting and the columns.
“Far too small.”
Sydney looked around, and realized they weren’t going to offer much cover at all. And then she saw a niche just beneath the stairs, about wide enough for a person to slip into. “Maybe we can hide beneath the stairs. That will afford some cover for at least two people.”
Griffin glanced over, saw what she saw. In a low voice, he said, “Get the professor under cover.” He shut off his flashlight and moved to the edge of the stairs.
Sydney guided Francesca to the niche. “Can you fit?” Sydney whispered.
“I think so.”
Francesca tucked herself back into the crevice, and Sydney hesitated until Griffin said, “Hurry. Get that light out.” He moved up the stairs until he was just inside the entrance to the outer chamber.
She scooted into the niche next to the professor. And then they waited several minutes in the dark, her mind conjuring up all sorts of possibilities, none of them ending up well. And just when she’d decided that someone had gotten to Griffin, she heard him say, “You can come out. I think I found our intruder.”
Sydney stepped from the space and moved around to the bottom of the steps where Griffin stood holding a tabby. She heard Francesca shuffling behind her and assumed she was following her out. “We’re trying to hide from a cat?”
“It could be worse,” Griffin said. “It could have been a gun-wielding cat.” He let the cat go, giving Sydney a strange look. “Where’s the professor?”
“She was right behind me.”
But when Griffin shone his light into the niche beneath the stairs, there was no sign of Francesca. Anywhere.
Tunisia
0830 hours
The first guard waved at Marc, lifting the barricade so that he could drive the now empty delivery truck past. For whatever reason, the man didn’t question that they weren’t escorted to the gate. Not their problem. Their captive was starting to wake up, and they heard him kicking at the panels in the back of the truck. Unfortunately for him, or perhaps more fortunate, they were already out of the compound. Adami wasn’t known to be the understanding sort of employer, probably even less so once he learned the fate of his warehouse. Marc only hoped that Dr. Balraj and Dr. Zemke were sitting well away from the guard’s feet.
“Call the number,” Marc said, as they turned the corner, out of sight of the compound.
Rafiq took his sat phone, punched in a number, but hesitated before hitting send. His gaze locked on Marc’s, his dark skin looking pale.
“Maybe he’s not in there,” Marc said. “Neither scientist