Jess saw Donovan shoot a quick glance at Avery, saw her shrug in return, as if to say she had no idea what Mitch’s problem was, but wasn’t worried about it. She doubted Donovan let it go that easily, not the way his mind seemed to always be working and sorting possibilities, but he said nothing more as he sat down and dug into the leftover hummus. Before long the three of them were talking about the islands Kyle and Avery had explored up and down the Nile.
Jess listened, aware of her role, alert for a phrase that would trigger some memory and make a mental connection to the story Wally had told her. Her mind swirled with a mixture of disjointed images: beaver lodges, wolves, and rabbits mixed with ancient pottery, marshy islands, and feluccas, the Nile’s ubiquitous sailboats. Behind it all, the smell of their food and the low flow of Arabic from the TV flavored every image with the essence of Egypt. She tried to make it all fit together like some crazy sort of jigsaw puzzle, aware of their occasional glances as they checked to see if something sparked her interest.
Nothing fit. Nothing brought the jolt of recognition she’d been waiting for. Two hours later she gave up and went to bed, a mild headache the only reward for her efforts.
She didn’t sleep well. At three a.m. she got up to take something for her headache. Padding to the kitchen without turning on the light, she found a bottle of water and tossed back an Advil. Standing in the shadowed room, she saw Mitch slip soundlessly past on his way to the men’s bedroom. He was fully dressed.
She stood in the dark, deciding what to do. She hadn’t heard the front door open and close, so she couldn’t be sure he’d been out. If he’d kept his assignation with the grad students despite Donovan’s orders, it would cause tension and division in the group. If he’d simply been sleeping in his chair, she would be the one causing tension and division if she brought it up and forced him to defend himself. It was a decision fit for a children’s book—did she tattle, or did she keep what she’d seen to herself?
With no proof he’d been out, and no evidence that any harm had been done, she decided it was best to keep it to herself. She could always mention it later if it seemed significant.
…
Jess stood in the center of the narrow street that comprised the shopping area called El Souk staring in awe. Small stores lined either side of the paved street, their wares spilling out of doorways. The sidewalk, had there actually been one, was crowded with forests of hookah pipes, hanging lanterns, and alabaster bowls. Through open doorways she saw more delights—silver and gold jewelry, animal statues, and slabs of stone painted with reproductions of hieroglyphics. Multiple carved stone statues of the jackal-headed god Anubis stood on human legs or reclined like a dog.
And vases. Thousands of them, from one inch high to three and four feet, made of alabaster, stone, and bronze. Some plain, some carved, and some inset with beautiful blue lapis stones. How would she ever find one that stood out among the thousands?
Business was good. Even at eight in the morning, the street swarmed with shoppers, many of them foreigners. She heard Arabic, both American and British-accented English, and German, and that was just in her immediate vicinity. Overhead, latticed canopies and awnings blocked most of the bright Egyptian sun, although the shaded street was already warm.
Not too warm, though. Her abaya was loose enough that it didn’t cling and she was comfortable in it. She appreciated the head-to-toe covering that helped her blend in with the local population, although today it also made her stand out. Her black abaya and hijab were trimmed in intricate pale gold lace, ostentatious in this setting, but marking her as the wealthy woman she was supposed to be. So did her bodyguard in his ankle-length white thobe and kufi, never far from her side. With one look, merchants would know there was much money to be made here.
Why had Wally come here? It seemed too touristy to house someone who dealt in black-market items. But it was the only place he’d mentioned to Hakim. So they would start with the souk.
If all went well today, she would bargain to buy an ancient vase, one that was illegal to own and could send her straight to prison if she was caught with it. Of everything that had happened in this crazy week, it was perhaps the most surreal moment of her sheltered, safe life.
“I don’t know where to start,” she murmured to Donovan.
“It’s your call, Jess. How we follow the clues is up to you. I only know it has to do with your knowledge of ancient Egypt and the children’s story Wally told you.”
Egyptian pharaohs and The Beaver Family’s New Home—she couldn’t think of a less likely combination.