“God, I hate dedicated bad guys,” Kyle grumbled. “Okay, sounds like we’re in it for the whole night, unless something happens early. We’ll tail people and watch new arrivals. Looks like the owner might live right over the shop, which makes it easier.” He paused. “Hey, what’s this have to do with a river?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the tomb isn’t in the Valley of the Kings. Maybe it’s somewhere along the Nile, which would explain why it was never found. Guess we’ll find out soon.”
He clicked off and met Jess’s expectant gaze. Still radiating excitement. Damn, he wished it didn’t touch that tender spot inside him that seemed to have a direct connection to his dick. She made him feel warm and protective and turned-on, all at the same time. It was disturbing, especially when his mind should not be straying from their mission.
“We need money,” Jess told him happily.
“What? Why?”
“To buy the vase.” She looked surprised that he could be so dense. “One million dollars.”
He snorted a laugh. “Not likely. Besides, we don’t really want to buy it.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do we?”
“We might. I was listening to what you told Kyle. What if Mr. Atallah does simply make a phone call and have someone bring him the vase? We might see who delivers it, but we still won’t know where it came from. Or where the students are being held. Do you think if we grab the deliveryman he’ll simply tell us where to find a few billion dollars worth of illegal treasure?”
“Keep your voice down,” he said, scanning the crowds again. “He might if he thinks we’ll kill him if he doesn’t talk.”
She leaned closer, speaking softly. “And what if the other tomb robbers will kill him and his whole family if he does? Tomb robbing is a serious business, and no one wants to risk getting caught. You had it right when you said someone might be willing to die to keep the location secret, because he definitely will.”
“Shit.” It frustrated him that she was probably right. Plus, there was that figure she’d cited. “A few billion dollars in treasure?”
She shrugged. “Priceless, really, if it’s an untouched tomb. Better than Tutankhamun’s. And from what Mr. Atallah told us, there’s a lot to choose from.”
He didn’t like anything he was hearing from her—that his straightforward plan might have a flaw, or the fear that had immediately jumped into his mind, that priceless antiquities might get in the way of rescuing hostages. Jess probably hadn’t realized that they sometimes had to go into a rescue with guns blazing, and how could they do that when bullets might rip into irreplaceable three-thousand-year-old artifacts worth billions of dollars?
Thankfully, discussing pharaohs on the streets of Luxor was normal conversation. “I thought you said Ramesses VIII was a minor pharaoh,” he grumbled. “How can his stuff be worth more than King Tut’s?”
“Oh, Tut was fairly minor, too. A transition pharaoh, really, and only nineteen when he died. He didn’t have time to accomplish much. But the real point is that his tomb wasn’t exactly untouched. It had been opened twice before in ancient times. The amphora—vases like the one I asked for—were emptied of their contents. Probably poured into wine skins and sold on the black market. And who knows what else was taken that was easily sold, or kept as a personal memento? The tomb wasn’t pristine.”
“Then why not take it all?”
“Who knows? It could have been that flooding in the valley kept subsequent robbers out. Also, the entrance seems to have been filled by rubble when another tomb was dug. All we know is it was sealed again and forgotten for thousands of years. Oh! Look at those necklaces.”
She made a sharp U-turn at an open storefront, drawn to a glittering display of jewelry inside. He wasn’t sure why this particular store stood out to her above the dozens of others they’d seen today, but thought it was simply a reflection of her buoyant mood. Since figuring out the significance of Wally’s old vase, she’d been riding an adrenaline high.
Resigned to waiting while she shopped, he watched her run her fingers over the carved designs of golden cartouches dangling from chains. Stroking, turning them to catch the light, draping them over her hand to judge them against her skin. Her hand motions captured his attention, so purely feminine that it stirred a response deep inside him and made him want to adjust himself inside his briefs. He shifted to ease the discomfort, unable to stop watching her hands.
From the back, covered almost entirely in the shapeless black abaya, she should have been sexually neutral. Nothing showing that would attract a man. Wasn’t that the whole point of the abaya? What kind of horndog was he to be so mesmerized by the slightest bit of feminine beauty? Simply watching her hands sort through chains and pendants fed his own secret high. He imagined her touching him instead, remembering the feel of her hands slipping around his neck. Imagined her touching other parts of him. For a moment the shop and its attentive salesman blurred around her, and he focused on her hands, her smile, the glow on her face as she looked up.