No Rules(97)
Undaunted, she looked for the next possibilities. There were several, including a large monolith that would have made a great marker but was impossible to move. Her eyes zeroed in on a flat slab of limestone, a bare three inches high. It even looked somewhat like a lid. With a purposeful stride, she walked to it, slipped her fingers beneath the edge, and lifted.
It moved easily. Even in the near pitch-black of the wadi, she could see the darker crescent of a hole beneath the rock. Gingerly she stuck her fingers in the sliver of blackness. They disappeared into emptiness.
This had to be it! Heart racing, she pulled hard on the stone. It scraped softly on sand, revealing a square-cut opening in the ground barely more than two feet across. Almost certainly the entrance to a tomb.
She leaned closer and inhaled a dusty scent that reminded her of old books. Her imagination stirred as she wondered how much of the old air had escaped, air that carried the scent of dried papyrus scrolls and the powdery remains of scented oils and, perhaps, foodstuffs. And a corpse.
She shivered at the thought of what lay beyond. A sarcophagus surely, and the personal possessions of a king. Walls filled with drawings depicting scenes from his life. Ramesses VIII, a royal son of Ramesses III, ignored in the line of inheritance as the throne went to an older brother, then a nephew, then another brother, then another nephew, until finally coming to the son named Usermare Akhenamun.
She could only imagine the surprise of Usermare Akhenamun, long passed over in the line of succession, as he inherited the name Ramesses VIII. Or had he, with sinister intent, arranged for all those brothers and nephews before him to have such brief reigns? The title of pharaoh might have been too tempting to resist. Or had someone else done it, perhaps someone who also made sure that Usermare Akhenamun had a brief, one-year reign as pharaoh? There was so much to learn, right here beneath her feet.
And so many treasures to discover.
Her father had been here. Had he entered the tomb? She hoped so. It would have meant so much to him. For such a passionate Egyptologist, an expert in the dead language of hieroglyphics, it would have been the thrill of a lifetime. As he’d said, a secret worth dying to protect.
She understood. He’d shared enough of his passion for ancient Egypt that she felt the lure of the dark hole in the ground. Of what she’d find inside.
She shouldn’t go in, not yet. The courier was in there, and probably others. But would Donovan let her go in once the hostages had been freed? Or would they be fleeing the valley in a mad rush after shooting it out with the robbers, turning over all they knew to the Egyptian Ministry of State for Antiquities? She would lose the chance of a lifetime.
Her father had sent her here, knowing she’d find this lost treasure. For both their sakes, she wanted to be able to say she’d stood inside the tomb of Ramesses VIII.
Not all the way inside. Simply beyond the entrance would be fine. And it wasn’t as stupid as it might sound. A pharaoh’s tomb could be huge, extending hundreds of feet into the ground and containing dozens of rooms. Some ended in a space as small as Tutankhamun’s three rooms and an antechamber. But all had a long, sloping entrance, sometimes with stairs, with one or more doors between the entrance and the tomb itself. Chances were no one inside would hear what went on at the tunnel opening.
She hung her feet over the edge of the hole, letting them dangle into nothingness. The floor couldn’t be far below. She probed with her toes. There. A step, dropping away to her right as it dove beneath the wadi. Gingerly, she inched forward until she stood on the step, half her body inside the hole.
The entrance to the tomb. Chills of excitement rippled through her and she soaked in the thrill of standing where, before this year, the last people to walk these steps had been in the funeral procession for a dead king.
For you Daddy, she thought, quelling any fears that her action was foolhardy. Putting her feet on these steps had been necessary in a way she couldn’t explain and couldn’t have anticipated. Perhaps her father hadn’t gotten this far, but he’d deserved to. Perhaps he’d know somehow that the quest was finished. She sighed with satisfaction.
She wouldn’t go any farther. Reluctantly, she lifted a knee, prepared to hoist herself out. With a sudden wrench, her other leg slipped out from under her—No. It was pulled out from under her. Her mind registered the tight grip on her ankle at the same time she felt her back scrape through the hole. Her head hit the edge of the opening a split second before she landed on her tailbone on the stone step. Like a flipped turtle, she lay on her back with her feet curled above her. She uttered a startled cry, flinging her arms out for balance. Her right arm whacked the edge of a higher step while the other flopped onto a lower step. Before she could attempt to sit up, a bright circle of light hit her face and she squeezed her eyes shut. A hand covered her mouth and nose, pressing her down on the stair and mashing her lips against her teeth.