No Rules (25 page)

Jess had set aside her tea and risen to her feet without being conscious of it. Now she stepped toward the creamy-white vase that stood revealed inside the crate. Sinking to her knees, she stared in awe at the two-foot-tall stone amphora.

If it had once worn the dust of millennia, it had been cleaned off. The hieroglyphics she’d seen on Mr. Atallah’s computer were starkly black against the off-white stone and looked freshly painted, even though she was sure they were not. The stone itself was dull, as hand-crafted alabaster should be, rather than polished by machine cutting. Modern consumers preferred the gloss of machine-tooled stone, but machines didn’t cut alabaster as thinly as hand carving could.

“Light,” she said without taking her eyes off the vase.

Mr. Atallah was ready for her. As he carefully inched the vase forward, Majid placed a bare lightbulb behind it.

The vase glowed. She heard an appreciative, “Ah,” from Donovan and felt her own pulse quicken. With trembling fingers she reached out to stroke the lip of the vase. She touched it with a reverence that others reserved for religious artifacts, instinctively imitating the respect she’d learned from her father for such ancient treasures.

The stone felt surprisingly warm and smooth. The weight of history was a dull buzzing in her head. How many others had touched this? Even though it had been cleaned, it possibly still bore the fingerprints of priests or slaves who had placed it in a dead king’s tomb thousands of years ago. Now it bore her prints, too.

And those of tomb robbers who would sell it to a private collector where no one could appreciate it or learn from it. She would see them all rot in jail.

“Beautiful, is it not?”

She dragged her mind back to the present with an effort. “Yes, it is.” She didn’t have to try to put awe into her voice.

“I’m glad you are pleased.”

“I’m more than pleased.” She stood and faced him, all business now as she motioned to Donovan. “Pay him, please.”

Without a word he got the briefcase and handed it over.

Mr. Atallah laid it on the back of the love seat and opened it. Stacks of U.S. hundred dollar bills filled the inside. He lifted one out and riffled through it appreciatively, then closed the case with a satisfied smile. “Thank you. I do not need to count it.” He handed the case to Majid, who carried it out of the room. She would have bet another briefcase full of money that he was counting it.

“I have researched such vases since we last met,” she said. She hadn’t, but recalled pouring over them in books with her father. “Is there perhaps an alabaster stand that might go with this vase?”

“How odd that you would say that.” But he looked impressed rather than suspicious. “I believe there is.”

“I want it.”

He was silent a moment, surprise and greed lighting his face. He licked his lips, no doubt debating how much he could take her for. She decided to make the first move. “If you can deliver it tomorrow, I will give you five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Tomorrow is soon.”

“I have told you my schedule. Tomorrow morning, or I cannot buy it.”

“You ask the impossible,” he claimed.

“I ask only what you have already done.”

“But there are new difficulties involved.”

She offered a tight smile. “How much would it cost to overcome these difficulties?”

“One million dollars.”

“Seven hundred fifty thousand.”

He stroked his lower lip. “I might be able to do it for eight hundred fifty.”

“Eight hundred. Without the vase such a stand will never bring more, as you well know.” She had no idea if that was true, but added a slight disdain to her voice, implying a confidence she didn’t feel.

He gave it a moment’s consideration, then inclined his head in agreement. “Seeing that it is early in the day yet, I believe I may have time to have it delivered.”

She smiled, genuinely pleased. All he needed was a few hours of darkness for his contact to make the trip from the Valley of the Kings, and all they needed was to see where the man came from or, if he was as silent and slippery as Kyle claimed, where he went when he returned. This time there were five of them to track the courier, since she and Donovan had no intention of meeting with Mr. Atallah to receive the stand. The police could do that.

“I look forward to your call tomorrow morning, Mr. Atallah,” she said, bowing her head.

Mr. Atallah beamed happily, probably already counting tomorrow’s increase in his fortune. “Majid will add packing material to the crate and assist you in loading it.”

“Thank you.”

Majid was fast, for which she was grateful. The longer she stayed in the little back room of the Eye of the Gods, the more jittery her stomach got, until she was afraid she might lose both her composure and the tea. When they finally drove off with the crate squeezed into the backseat, she exhaled a long, shaky breath.

“Tyler, do you realize what this is?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror, frowning at the crate behind him. “Life in prison?”

“It’s a priceless piece of history. It’s art and science and history all together. It’s…amazing.”

Tension left his face for a moment as he grinned at her. “You sound like your dad.”

Her dad. It had been a long time since she’d thought of him that way, with that name that implied love and belonging. For too long he’d been her father, a more impersonal, distant name for the man she’d thought had turned his back on her. Regret for what she’d lost stung her soul with a sudden, deep hurt. “I wish he could have been here for this.”

“So do I.” He reached across the seat to squeeze her hand. “Wally would have been proud of you today. He always was, but you went above and beyond the last few days, manipulating a black-market criminal as well as any undercover operative.”

She blinked, surprised by the emotion that tightened her throat. “Thank you.” The thought of making her father proud warmed a place inside her that had been cold for too long.

They drove for another minute before she realized they weren’t headed toward the Winter Palace Hotel. “Where are we going?”

“I can only think of one place where this thing will be truly appreciated and where it will be safe until we turn it over to the authorities.”

One obvious answer jumped to her mind. “Hakim?”

“He’s an expert on ancient Egypt, and the one man Wally trusted above all others. Wally would haunt me forever if I took it anyplace else.”

“But we were attacked outside his shop. Someone followed us there.”

“I’m pretty sure our attacker is still licking his wounds and won’t be a problem. I broke his arm and probably gave him some colorful bruises.” A grim smile of satisfaction told her what an understatement that was. “As far as they know, we’ve moved on, looking for the two students. They have no reason to think this ‘sale’ has anything to do with that. Even if they suspected, they don’t know where we are.”

A nervous ripple somersaulted through her stomach. She hoped he was right.

Hakim and his grandson Saja were sitting among the baskets and pottery outside their shop, along with another man. They looked up in surprise when Donovan and Jess pulled up in the little Fiat. Donovan opened the car door and motioned them over as he called out, “Hakim, I’ve got that new shipment of pots you wanted.”

Hakim waited until he was helping pull the crate out and was close enough to speak without being overheard. “What is this?”

“Something I think Wally would want you to see. But privately. Let’s take it upstairs.”

Hakim raised his eyebrows but said nothing more, merely asking his friend to watch the shop for a moment. Saja opened the curtain that covered the stairway, then followed them up to the living quarters along with Jess.

The men laid the crate lengthwise on the floor. “Do you have something to pry this open with?” Donovan asked.

Saja dashed off to fetch a claw hammer, which he handed to Donovan. Hakim helped pull as Donovan pried, finally setting the lid aside to reveal a pile of wood shavings. “Jess, would you do the honors?”

She knelt beside the crate and lifted out handfuls of packing, setting it on the lid. When she felt the cool alabaster beneath her fingers, she pushed the curls of wood shavings aside. Two of the long, tubular handles were exposed along with part of the body of the vase.

Hakim’s mouth opened with surprise, and then he dropped to his knees beside Jess, digging like a squirrel, shoving wood shavings aside until most of the vase was exposed. He sat back, staring at each of them. “What have you done? Did you rob the Cairo Museum? This is from the Tutankhamun exhibit.”

“Look again,” Jess said. Slipping a hand beneath the vase, she lifted it slightly so he could see the cartouche.

He leaned closer. “Yes, yes, the cartouche of the pharaoh, Tutankh…” He stopped abruptly, then jerked his startled gaze toward her. “This is not Tutankhamun. This is Ramesses VIII.” He examined the vase again, as if expecting to see Made in China stamped on the alabaster. “Where did you get this?”

“From a black-market dealer,” she told him. “It’s the real thing, isn’t it?”

She expected an immediate confirmation, but apparently Hakim was cautious about authenticating something so valuable. Carefully, he lifted it out and stood it on the linoleum floor of the apartment. He ran his hands over it, both outside and inside, and looked at it from every angle, even asking Saja to bring a flashlight so he could shine it on various parts of the stone. Finally, he sat back on his heels with an amazed look. “It appears to be authentic. Do you know what you have here?”

“Grave goods from a tomb no one found,” she said. “Until now.”

“But…that is incredible. Where? Where was it found?” Excitement rose in his voice, as if he was ready to jump up and go to the tomb right now.

“We don’t know the location yet,” Donovan said. “But we hope to before another night has passed. Then the authorities will be involved. Until then, we must keep this vase safe. I know of no one I can trust more than you.”

Hakim nodded. “Of course, of course. This is marvelous. Fantastic.” He stroked the vase, lost in rapture, then suddenly stopped and looked up. “This is what Wally found?”

Donovan nodded.

He absorbed the news with a wistful expression. “Then he knew what it meant. I am glad.”

Jess understood. She was glad that her father had known of the momentous discovery of an untouched tomb, too. And that he had helped save its contents.

“Thank you,” Hakim said to her, a slight quiver of emotion in his voice. “Thank you for giving my country a piece of its missing heritage. Egypt owes you much gratitude.”

She shook her head decisively. “We don’t have it yet. And when we do, it will be thanks to my father.”

“He gave you the key, and you unlocked the treasure. I think we must thank you as much as Wally.”

She tried to deny it, but Donovan put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re right, Hakim. Jess figured out Wally’s clues. We wouldn’t have that vase without her, and there will be much more once we find where it came from.”

Donovan’s pride in her was so sincere all she could do was bask in it. If this competent man was impressed with her, she didn’t want to look like less in his eyes. More importantly, she didn’t want to be less in her own eyes. She’d pushed her limits the past five days and amazingly she hadn’t ended up in a fetal position, shaking with fear. Instead of being sheltered from any possible physical or emotional harm, she’d been encouraged to do things that terrified her. To step beyond her boundaries instead of barricading herself from the world. It had been an enormous change.

She liked the results.

While she absorbed the fact that what she had done would be valued by all of Egypt, Donovan had been saying good-bye. She followed him out the door, leaving Hakim enraptured, fondling the three-thousand-year-old vase.

Donovan drove more sedately this time, which in Luxor still meant horn honking, sudden lane changes, and a casual disregard of traffic laws. She was getting used to it. “Where to now?” she asked.

“The hotel. You should be safe there while I take the weapons and meet up with the others. I’ll keep you filled in on what’s going down as much as possible. Once we locate and free the hostages, we’ll come back for you on the way to the airport. This should all be over by tomorrow morning.”

She’d lost the train of the conversation after the first sentence. “You’re going to the Valley of the Kings without me?”

“I’m going to the desert to forcibly confront dangerous kidnappers. You’re staying where it’s safe so I don’t have to worry about you. But don’t feel left out. You’ve been a tremendous help, and we couldn’t have done it without you.”

She frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“Trust me, you have.”

“No, I mean I’m not staying behind while you all hang out in the planet’s most impressive historical dig. I’m going with you.”

“Forget it, Jess. It’s too dangerous. You’re staying here.”

He had reason to think she could be ordered around—he’d been doing it successfully since they met. But on this she wasn’t budging. “You can’t make me stay.”

His jaw clenched. “Yes, I can.”

“Then you’d better be willing to tie and gag me.”

He leveled a stare at her that didn’t show a trace of the kindness and affection she’d seen the past couple days. “You think I wouldn’t?”

She had no doubt he would. Well, shit.

Chapter Sixteen

She had to change his mind before they got to the hotel. She wasn’t going meekly up to the room where he could leave her bound and gagged in the closet, which is what he’d have to do to keep her from following him.

“What makes you think I’d be safer here?” she asked, trying to attack his reasoning first. “What if they know where we are? They might be following us right now.”

“They’re not.” He glanced in the mirror as he’d done repeatedly, and she knew he was right. No one could have followed his erratic driving without calling attention to himself. “But let’s say there’s a slight chance they could discover you here. I prefer that to the one hundred percent chance that we’ll encounter them in the desert. You don’t know anything about tactics and maneuvers, and you don’t have weapons training. You’ve been invaluable up to this point, Jess, but out there you’re a liability.”

She couldn’t answer. It was hard to argue with the truth.

After a moment’s silence, he asked more kindly, “Why do you want to go so badly? Are you afraid to stay here alone?”

She almost laughed. “No. I wasn’t thinking about my safety.”

He shot her an ironic glance. “My point exactly.”

She sighed. “It’s the Valley of the Kings.”

“So?”

“Tyler, I was raised on this stuff. It was my father’s passion, and I guess he passed it on to me. Maybe I didn’t go into it professionally, but it doesn’t mean I’m not passionate about the history.” She sought a way to make him understand. “Remember you said I learned about the pharaohs the way you learned about dinosaurs? I’ll bet you could identify a hundred species and tell me when and where they lived and what they ate.”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t endanger my life to go see a paleontologist dig up a skeleton. Isn’t that the parallel with the Valley of the Kings? It’s a graveyard for pharaohs.”

“Yes, it is, but we’re not talking about touring an empty tomb. We’re talking about a tomb that’s been sealed for over three thousand years, that’s filled with artifacts and writings about the life of the king. It’s a look into the past. It’s not a paleontologist’s dig, it’s…” She struggled to find a comparison. “It’s Jurassic Park. It’s as real as it gets. Would you pass up a chance to go to a real Jurassic Park?”

As comparative logic went, she thought it was a stretch, but from his expression she could see she’d hit the mark. He understood. He looked torn, at least slightly, so she pushed her opening.

“I never thought I’d be here, Tyler, and I’ll never be back again.”

As soon as she said it, something inside her said,
Why not? You came once and you can do it again. You can go anywhere you want to
. It was an easy fact for most people to see, but for her it came as a thrilling realization. She didn’t say it out loud because it wouldn’t help get her to the Valley of the Kings tonight, but it was a truth to remember and keep close to her heart. The world had opened up for her.

He hadn’t said anything. He pulled up to the front of the hotel and stopped. A valet approached, but stepped back politely when he saw no one was in a hurry to get out. Tyler looked at her, somber and determined. He hadn’t been persuaded.

She hurried to make her final plea. “Wally sent me here, Tyler. He wanted me here.”

He hesitated, and her hopes soared. “He didn’t want you in the middle of the action,” he said. “He wanted you to figure out where the vase was so we’d find the hostages.”

“And we still haven’t. You don’t know what you’re looking for out there. There’s no sign pointing the way to the tomb of Ramesses VIII. It’s
hidden
, Tyler. Well hidden. It has been for three thousand years, and believe me, experts have been looking for it.”

He said nothing, but she knew he was teetering.

“The rabbit goes to the beaver’s house,” she reminded him.

“And what does that mean?” he said, jumping on it, his frustration showing. “It’s supposed to be in the middle of a river. The courier disappeared into the desert, Jess. There’s no river there. How do you explain that?”

“I can’t,” she said helplessly. “But maybe it’s like you said, if I’m there, I’ll see something that will register as a clue, and I’ll realize whatever it was Wally wanted us to know. It could be something important. Life and death.”

That was it. It was the same reasoning that had made him give in to Evan and let her come to Egypt—she would know it if she saw it. She knew as soon as she said it that it was the one argument he couldn’t refute.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, as if he needed something to anchor him as he went against his gut instincts. “Fine. You’ll go with us. But you’ll follow my orders exactly, and stay behind us. Got it?”

She smiled and nodded.

He heaved a sigh. “Come on, let’s get our stuff.”

…

Donovan walked outside to make one last call to Evan, claiming he got better cell reception there. He still hadn’t told Jess about the mole and his suspicions regarding Mitch, wanting to ensure that everyone acted as naturally as possible and didn’t tip off the informant. But Evan should know what was going on. He should also probably know where to look for Jess if the whole mission went to hell. He wasn’t looking forward to telling him that part.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” he told Evan, watching Jess wander the gardens as he spoke. “You may not hear from us again until it’s over.”

“I understand. Good luck.”

“There’s one more thing. I’m taking Jess with us.”

“What do you mean? She’ll be with the team during the assault?”

“Nearby. We may need her for last-minute information.” He braced himself for the argument he knew he’d get, prepared to remind the Omega director that final discretion was always left to the operative in charge in the field.

Several seconds of silence hummed in his ear. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

Okay? He hadn’t expected it, and his carefully thought-out argument died in his mouth, leaving him momentarily wordless.

“Look, Donovan…” The reluctance in Evan’s voice brought him back to attention. “I hesitated to call, but I think there’s something you should know. It’s about that possible mole. I’ve been trying to find a connection between any Omega employee and any people or organizations in Egypt. It’s a broad net to cast, but I think I found something significant.”

He didn’t move, but all his muscles tensed. “What is it?”

“One of your team members went to college with a man who now lives in Luxor and works for the museum there. I have no proof they knew each other, but they lived in the same dorm and took several of the same classes.”

It was enough to rouse suspicion. More than enough, if it was who he feared it was. “Who?”

“Mitch.” When he didn’t reply, Evan said, “It could be a coincidence.”

Donovan’s mouth twitched with a repressed snarl. Not likely. And the betrayal hurt more than he’d thought it would. But all he said was, “Thanks, Evan.”

“Right. Call when it’s over.”

“Of course.” He ended the call and stood staring at nothing, waiting for the shock to wear off. He couldn’t change their plans now without arousing Mitch’s suspicions. He didn’t even know if Avery or Kyle would believe him. They were both close to Mitch. He’d just have to go ahead with the plan and be ready to counter the attempted sabotage that was sure to come.

He shook off the gloom that had settled around him and waved at Jess to let her know they could leave. It wasn’t until she joined him that he realized Evan had neglected to ask how he intended to get his million dollars back from Mr. Atallah. A lucky break, since he still had no idea. Right now it seemed like the least of his worries.

They grabbed a quick lunch. Jess longed to dine in one of the hotel’s five-star restaurants and use the beautiful pool, but time was limited and she opted for a different way to spend it—having sex.

It began with a friendly make-out session that inevitably led to their clothes lying on the floor and the freshly made bed torn apart as they peeled back the covers and tumbled onto it. It started out rowdy with laughing and tickling, and Jess thought she’d never been so relaxed and happy with someone in her life.

He pinned her to the bed, but her helpless laughter only increased. “I thought you found me dangerous,” he complained, apparently doing his best to act the part.

He was very good at it. But despite his rough appearance, she knew him too well now, and trusted him implicitly. “You’re a pussy cat,” she said. She licked his nose.

He growled menacingly and fell on her in a fierce kiss that she accepted eagerly. His mouth stirred her all over, his tongue stroking hers in the same way it teased other parts of her, making her squirm beneath him. His arms framed her head, holding her still as he kissed her more insistently, more deeply. She melted beneath him, her laughter forgotten as others parts of her burned for his attention. His hands moved down her body, but his touch was no longer firm and demanding. It was light and coaxing as it explored every part of her. She moaned helplessly into his mouth, unable to resist him. Their casual foreplay became serious stroking that turned into slow, sensual lovemaking and ended with her gasping out his name as he urged her sweat-slicked body through three orgasms, taking obvious delight in each one he gave her.

Afterward, she lay with arms out-flung, breathing hard, and thinking she could stay in Egypt forever if every day was like this. When she felt him sit up beside her, she cracked her eyes open and found him looking at her with a soft smile.

He stroked her hair. “I hate to say it, but we have to get going.”

His mind was already on the job while she’d been wondering how to make this last. She told herself that’s how it should be. He was a professional, and they hadn’t come to Egypt to facilitate her sex life. They had a job to do.

By one thirty she was showered and dressed. Donovan told her to wear comfortable slacks and a short-sleeved top and enough jewelry to look like she had money. She kept her new ankh necklace on but it didn’t show beneath the
hijab
he told her to wear.

“But why? I don’t look like a Muslim woman in these clothes.”

“You’ll look like a tourist who’s making an effort to be respectful of the local culture. Plus, it’s one less identifying factor. We’ll be walking into the Valley of the Kings like tourists, then disappearing. I don’t want some guard to remember the pretty girl with the shiny brown hair that glows with red gold in the sunlight, and realize that you didn’t come back out of the Valley. Hiding your hair makes you less memorable.”

“Oh.”

He thought she was pretty. He’d noticed her highlights.

She didn’t want it to mean anything, but her heart gave a silly leap and her insides turned all warm and soft. It didn’t fit the new tough image she was going for, and she imagined Avery would never go all goofy-mushy over a compliment from a man, but she couldn’t change how she felt about Tyler Donovan. It seemed goofy-mushy was part of it.

They left the AK-47s in the rental car since they were too big to hide. She felt secretly relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about a wild barrage of automatic weapons fire anywhere near the priceless antiquities she expected to find.

The two Glocks went in an inside pocket of the backpack Donovan wore, with jackets, snacks, and plastic water bottles filling out the packs. Shouldering the packs like experienced tourists, they caught one of the many ferries that took tourists across the Nile. Once on the west bank they stood in line to buy tickets to tour the tombs, then hired a taxi to take them as far as the entrance gates to the Valley of the Kings. From there, a sandy, well-groomed road edged by low stone walls led into the desolate wadi. Beyond that, low hills of rubble ran up against tall canyon cliffs. Everything was shades of tan and beige, sand and stone. Nothing grew here.

The only transportation was a tourist tram that ran to the tombs. Riding with tourists in motorized vehicles along the path once trod by solemn funeral processions for kings felt almost obscene. Jess consulted the map in the brochure she’d picked up at the entrance. “We could walk from here. Get the feel of the place.”

“We should act like we’re in a hurry. They close at four and we bought tickets to see three tombs. Besides, you’ll do enough walking later.”

They found a seat on the tram, getting off in the center of the Valley. Jess stepped onto the hard-packed road and turned in a slow circle, shading her eyes from the bright sunlight. Starkly barren cliffs rose on all sides of a wide central valley. Three main branches of the valley wound into the hills that lined the base of the cliffs. In every direction she could see the sculpted modern entrances that had been added to the tombs, with most of the tombs tunneling directly into the hills.

For a moment she was light-headed, soaking in the surreal atmosphere. The modern world slipped away. She was a time traveler, stepping into a past era of pharaohs and royal families, of peasants and slaves, and a powerful priesthood that served the gods. The pantheon of gods and goddesses were as familiar to her as they would have been to any child born in that ancient time and the lineage of the pharaohs as intimately familiar as her own family tree. She knew who these people had been and knew the world they’d lived in. When they had passed into the next world of the afterlife, their earthly bodies and possessions had been interred here. Often, their families and advisors and priests had tombs here too, in the nearby Valley of the Queens. She looked at the tomb entrances with the shivery thought,
I know these people.

She yearned to go inside and see the wall paintings and sarcophagi her father had told her about. Things she’d only seen in books. Most of the sixty-three tombs were never open to the public. Seven of them were open on a rotating basis. She turned to Donovan, unable to see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but knew he was scanning the distant cliff faces for the hiding places they would need soon.