Chapter Twenty-Three
Annie
After her conversation with the landlady, Charlotte had become alarmingly fragile. She took a few deep breaths as she rose to her feet, and Annie stayed close by her side as they walked back to the hotel, in case she had another spell.
Charlotte approached the front desk to see if there were any messages. The clerk was the same one they’d met on their arrival—Fatima—and she handed over an envelope from the director of the Egyptian Museum. Charlotte opened it right away. “He says congratulations for the discovery of the canopic box, and requests my assistance in overseeing the transfer of the canopic box as well as the mummies to Cairo,” she said to Annie.
“When?” asked Annie.
“Tomorrow. Off to Cairo we go.” Charlotte put the director’s letter back in the envelope and turned to Annie. “I’ll head up to my room and confirm the arrangements. Can you go to the camera store and see if the Kodachrome slides are ready to be picked up? I could use some aspirin as well, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Annie was pleased to be of service. She asked Fatima where the camera store was, and the clerk led Annie outside onto the hotel steps to best explain.
“Do you see the fruit stand on the next block?” she asked, pointing. The wind caught her headscarf, almost pulling it right off, but she readjusted it quickly. Judging from the gray traced through her hair, Fatima was older than Annie had first guessed. “Not the first fruit stand, but the one right after.”
“I see it.”
“Just beyond that is a narrow alley, and the shop’s in there. If you blink, you’ll miss it.”
“Great. And is there anywhere to get some aspirin?”
“Further up the street, you’ll see a pharmacy. It’s not far.” Fatima paused. “Is everything all right? Your mother didn’t look well when she came in.”
Annie almost corrected her, but then stopped. It was nice imagining a mother who would take her to faraway places and stand up for her the way Charlotte had done after the Met Gala. “She’s fine.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?”
Annie remembered Charlotte’s warning about Ma’at, that they could be anywhere. No one was to be trusted, and even though it was Fatima’s job to take care of hotel guests, Annie didn’t want to attract undue attention. “It’s jet lag, that’s all.”
Annie brought the slides and aspirin with her when she met Charlotte for dinner in the hotel restaurant, a hushed room with thick carpets and widely spaced tables. Charlotte’s color had returned, but there was a weariness in her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Annie asked.
Charlotte flicked her napkin and laid it on her lap. “Better, thanks.” She took several minutes studying the slides, holding them up to the light of the chandelier, before letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to tell without a projector, but I’m worried they didn’t come out very well.”
“You can always go back and try again, with better lighting. Jabari said he could arrange it.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Unfortunately, I was informed by the director of the Egyptian Museum that the surveyors concluded the tomb would have to be closed permanently, as the damage was too severe.”
They fell into silence, staring out at the other diners and watching the waiters come and go. “Does your guidebook tell you anything about the goddess Hathor?” asked Charlotte out of the blue.
Annie shook her head.
“The name ‘Hathorkare’ means ‘The goddess of Hathor is the life force of Ra, the sun god.’ Hathor was a powerful deity of many things, including fertility, childbirth, motherhood, music, dance, drunkenness. The list goes on and on.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Not at first. Initially, she was sent to earth by the sun god, Ra, to destroy humanity, punish rebellious humans for their selfishness and ingratitude. She swooped down and destroyed everything in her path: people murdered, houses crushed, cities toppled, crops wiped out, gone in an instant. Eventually, Ra realized there would be no one left if she kept this up, but by then she was out of control, so he called upon the goddess of beer to create a huge batch of ale and dyed it red. Hathor drank it, thinking it was blood—she was quite vampirish by that point—and passed out cold. When she woke up, she was transformed into a kind, benevolent goddess. The mother of all mothers.”
“That’s quite a story.” Annie worked up the courage to ask the question that had been nagging her since their conversation with the landlady. “If you don’t mind me asking, what was the name of your daughter?” she said softly.
Their main courses arrived. Charlotte took a sip of white wine and looked Annie in the eyes. “Layla,” she answered.
“And that’s really why we’re here, right?”
Charlotte nodded. “We were all on the ship together. Henry, Leon, Layla, and myself. She was barely three months old. When I saw the broad collar and realized it hadn’t gone down with the ship, I hoped that Layla had survived as well, and I thought by tracking down Leon, I’d be able to find out the truth.”
The enigma that was Charlotte Cross finally made some sense to Annie. The child was the main reason for their trip to Egypt; the Cerulean Queen and the missing file were secondary. Although Annie wished she’d known from the beginning, she understood why it would be a difficult subject to bring up. “Leon lied, though.”
“By his lying, I know there’s something true out there. I just don’t know what it is.”
“Why would your husband keep her from you?”
“Because he didn’t know I survived, I have to guess.”
“He didn’t even try to look for you?”
“As you know, he was involved with some kind of smuggling operation. Would that be enough to keep me from our daughter?” She frowned. “No. He wasn’t like that. I have to believe he thought I was dead, just as I thought he was.”
“So now we go to Cairo,” said Annie. “Do you hope you’ll find her there?”
“I do.” Charlotte’s eyes were bright and her mouth twitched. “I hope I can find out something about her, about Henry. But it’s not like we have anything to go on, and Cairo is a huge city. I’ve spent all day trying to figure out what to do next, and I have no idea.”
They ate in silence for a while.
“What about the Cerulean Queen?” said Annie.
“What about it?”
“Are you still interested in tracking it down?”
“Of course.”
“What if I found something that could help?”
“And what would that be?” asked Charlotte, cutting into her lamb with a knife.
“When we were at Leon’s apartment building, and I had that coughing fit, I didn’t really have a coughing fit.”
Charlotte looked up from her plate. “What do you mean?”
“From where I was standing, I could see a pitcher of water and what looked like a mail room, so I pretended to need water and found the slot for Leon Pitcairn’s mail.” Annie’s heart had pounded like crazy as she rifled through the mail, and she was terrified the landlady might turn around at any moment and catch her.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing. His mail slot was empty.”
“Okay.”
“But the outgoing mail included this.” Annie took an envelope from her lap and placed it on the table. The return address was Leon’s, the mailing address a post office box in Cairo.
Charlotte looked up at her. “You went through the building’s mail?”
“This was the only thing of interest.”
“And you opened it?”
“I think that pales in comparison with smuggling ancient antiquities.”
Charlotte didn’t disagree. She picked it up and pulled out the note, handwritten on Leon’s stationery, and read it out loud: “?‘I have confirmation that she is in the country, awaiting clearance from customs. Transfer to the unique location has been arranged and you will be notified once she reaches her final destination.—L.’?”
Annie sat on the edge of her chair, not caring that she was smiling like a lunatic. “?‘She’ has to refer to the Cerulean Queen. They’re talking about an object, not a person.”
Charlotte studied the note. “Maybe. It doesn’t give us much information.”
“So we go to the police. They can track down the owner of the post office box and arrest them.”
“For what? There’s nothing illegal about this note. They’d take one look at it and think we were mad.”
“We could explain. You’re an important person at the Met, surely you have some influence.”
“I’m not as important as you think. Especially these days. Besides, the first thing they’d want to know is how you got your hands on it. The answer might get you into more trouble than Leon.”
All of Annie’s excitement drained away. “Right. Opening up someone else’s mail.”
“I’m sorry, Annie,” said Charlotte, handing back the letter and envelope. “It’s just not enough.”