The Antiquity Affair by Lee Kelly

Author:Lee Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Muse
Published: 2023-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Tess

The Egyptian Museum, Cairo

“Gaston, buddy?” The warm, familiar voice sounds as though it’s coming from the bottom of a well. “Hello? Got lots to discuss!”

My father’s voice still lingers, I suppose, from a consoling dream. I shake the last of sleep’s grip on me, trying to lift my head, and my neck spasms in pain.

“Blast,” I croak out between parched lips. I move to rub out the kinks in my neck . . .

Before remembering that my hands are tied to a chair.

I peer around the room where the Fraternitas have bound and stored me like a relic after hauling me across the Mediterranean and into Egypt. Four days of being stuffed into steamer trunks, locked in windowless cabins, crammed in motorcars. This latest prison is a converted office; my best guess, a room on the first floor of the Egyptian Museum. I can see the shipment tags on the large crates and parcels stored in the far corner; hear the Maghrib prayers from nearby mosques. Smell the fumes, too, from fresh coats of paint.

Though perhaps I should doubt my current acuity, given that I’m imagining voices.

“You hiding somewhere?” And then a laugh—undoubtedly my father’s—echoes up from the courtyard outside the window.

Giddy hope consumes me.

“Dad?” I struggle to stand, fighting against my ropes.

Dad, oblivious, laughs again down below, muttering, “Little dramatic, gotta say, closing the museum down . . .” His voice trails off.

For a moment, the silence below is deafening.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growls.

How quickly my hope is devoured by dread. Who’s out there? What’s happening?

I revolt against my rickety chair, using all my remaining resolve and then some to fight against my binds and get to the window.

A cold laugh sounds from below. Then, “Waiting for you.”

I close my eyes.

It’s Davies.

“Dad,” I breathe out. “Dad, you need to get out of here.”

A crescendo of heavy footsteps sounds from the courtyard.

I let out a stricken whimper. So then it’s not just Davies; it’s Mr. Hendricks’s entire cadre, the Fraternitas. Do they have Dad surrounded?

Desperate to reach the window, I rock my chair wildly, side to side. The rock becomes a frantic pendulum as I propel myself back and forth, attempting to gain a foothold. Back and forth and back again—and then, gods above, somehow I am on my feet.

I hobble, the chair still affixed to my back, toward the window.

Leaning against its pane, I huff, breathless, able now to see the sky painted in violets and dwindling orange, the courtyard cloaked in mounting shadows below. I can spot the back of Davies’s head, as well as those of the men gathered around him. Mr. Hendricks on one side, Belot on his other. The rest of the Fraternitas, hands in their pockets, standing smug, plus no shortage of hired goons.

My father stands opposite, hands raised in surrender. His face, despite everything, is arranged into a sheepish smirk. He’s hiding it well, but I can tell he’s thrown. He hadn’t expected to greet the Fraternitas.

“Now, come on, gentlemen,” Dad says, throwing his head back, a forced laugh.

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