the boat around and headed downriver, angling closer to the eastern shoreline.
They were located off the ancient city of Amarna in the desert of Middle Egypt, some two hundred miles south of Cairo. Constructed by Pharaoh Akhenaten on a remote, protected plain along the Nile’s eastern bank, the city had briefly served as the Egyptian capital over three thousand years ago. Shortly after Akhenaten’s death, the capital was moved back to Thebes. The young city was not only abandoned, its stonework and monuments were stripped and salvaged for use at other sites. Still, Amarna represented the only ancient Egyptian city not completely covered by subsequent habitation.
The six-mile-long plain, ringed by high limestone cliffs, contained two small modern villages near the central and southern sections of the old city. But Dirk and Summer were working at the northern end of the plain, near the site of the royal residence known as the North Riverside Palace. Summer drove the boat down the empty river, turning in at a rickety dock. Dirk hopped off the bow and secured the boat, then stepped ashore and waited for Summer to join him.
Even in this remote stretch of desert, the Nile’s banks were devoted to agriculture. The twins found themselves in a field of soybeans that stretched along the riverbank like a wide green carpet. Crossing inland, they stopped at a grove of low trees. From a short distance away they could hear shouting voices.
Just beyond the trees lay the site of the ancient palace. Knee-high remnants of a mud wall surrounded the scattered remains of columns, courtyards, and royal buildings that once rose from the grounds. Dr. Stanley’s excavation site was a few dozen yards south, marked by several canopy tents, a battered pickup, and a yellow front-end loader.
Summer grabbed Dirk’s arm and pointed to a bloody body that lay facedown in the center of the field. “Artifact thieves?” she whispered.
“Probably.”
Terrorists at such a remote location seemed unlikely. Given Egypt’s long struggle against theft at its many cultural sites, profit seemed a more likely motive. If they were thieves, they were especially brazen to attack an active one. Judging by the body, they were willing to kill to get what they wanted.
Mounds of excavated dirt concealed the terrorists, so Dirk and Summer maneuvered down the line of trees. Crouching behind a poplar tree, they could see three gunmen facing an excavation pit, their backs to a high pile of overburden.
In the pit, Zeibig and a few others stood under the watchful eyes of a heavyset man with a belt of grenades around his waist. As the guard turned into the wind, his scarf briefly dropped from his face, exposing a neatly trimmed black beard. Dirk and Summer watched as Dr. Stanley was pulled from the trench and pistol-whipped by a gunman in a checked headscarf.
“They’re going to kill him,” Summer whispered. “We’ve got to find help.”
“There’s no time. It’s a half mile to the nearest village, and the same to the antiquities office up north. Take us too long to get there and back.”
“What do you propose we do?”
Dirk stared at the dead antiquities agent, who’d worn a holstered pistol. The three gunmen were now assembled close together above the trench, dust blowing at their feet.
Dirk turned to his sister. “We’ll have to move fast. I need to ask you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
He motioned toward the scene. “Can you drive a front-end loader?”
21
Blood dribbled down Stanley’s cheek, but he remained unfazed by the assault. He stood tall and stoic as the interrogator bombarded him with questions.
“I don’t know of any tombs. The royal tombs of Amarna are all in the wadi, east of here. Any tombs in the city were for commoners and excavated decades, if not centuries, ago.”
“What of the tomb hidden here?” The gunman barely concealed his impatience.
“Pure speculation,” Stanley said. “We’ve uncovered a workboat and an offering table, that’s all. They might indicate the presence of a tomb. Or they might not. It seems unlikely. If there is a tomb, it could take weeks, or months, to find.”
“Where would you look?”
Stanley eyed the offering table, then stared at the ground. Shifting his feet, he waved an arm toward the other side of the excavation.
“Perhaps over there. That area between the boat and the North Riverside Palace. At one time there was probably an important residence there.”
The gunman considered the location, then gazed at Riki a moment. He slowly turned back to Stanley. “You deceive me,” he hissed. “You will die for this.”
As