Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlotte
Charlotte felt terrible about the argument she and Annie had back at the restaurant, especially after having divulged her strange vision and gratefully accepting Annie’s reassurance that it was a blessing, not another curse. Over the past couple of days, Charlotte had become fond of Annie. Behind her loud laugh and lumbering gait was a fragile child who was desperate to please, yet she had an inner strength that she was only now beginning to tap into. It had been marvelous watching her transformation.
Annie was smart and pushed Charlotte out of her comfort zone, which was maybe why Charlotte found herself now keeping the girl at arm’s length. She was resolutely proud of Annie one moment and then irritated the next.
Like a mother might feel.
But Charlotte already had a daughter.
Yet as they sped toward Khan el-Khalili, her protective side kicked in. Ever since she’d held the second King Tut statue in the palm of her hand and heard the word “farid” spill out of the seller’s mouth, everything had become clear. She didn’t want to put Annie in harm’s way, but she couldn’t do this without her.
The labyrinthian alleyways were packed. Once they reached the Farid Gallery, Charlotte peered into the front window, where several tourists lingered over a display of amulets. Nothing bad could happen to her and Annie if there were other people about, certainly. She took a deep breath and ventured in, Annie right on her heels.
The handsome woman from the other day, Heba, stood behind the cash register, looking over an invoice. She glanced up briefly but didn’t acknowledge them, an unusually tepid response to a returning customer in a touristy neighborhood like this one. Two visits in two days surely would have signaled a probable sale, and any other salesperson would have come running. Could she possibly not have remembered them? It seemed unlikely.
Something was off.
The box of cheap souvenirs they’d seen the other day was no longer on the floor, but the back door to the office area was slightly ajar.
Annie nudged Charlotte. “Do you notice anything different?” she asked.
Charlotte looked around. “What do you mean?”
“The owner’s not wearing glasses. Yesterday she had to go to the back room to get them to see the photograph. But today she’s reading glasses-less.”
“Maybe the writing is large enough for her to see. Or she’s wearing contact lenses.”
“Or maybe she needed time to gather herself together after seeing Henry’s photo. Because she recognized him.”
Charlotte hadn’t considered that; she wasn’t thinking about the photograph or Henry at all. She glanced at the door to the back room before pulling Annie down one of the narrow aisles near the front of the store.
“Where are we going?” asked Annie.
“Shhh. Play along.” Charlotte reached into her pocketbook, lifted out the perfume bottle, and then dashed it onto the floor a few feet from where they stood, angling it slightly so the glass shards flew across the tiled floor toward the center of the shop, skidding like ice away from them.
Annie jumped and cried out. “What on earth!”
“Annie, how could you?” chided Charlotte. “I told you not to be so clumsy!”
Annie gave her a confused look, but Heba was already heading their way, holding a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other. “What’s going on?” she asked as she turned into the aisle.
Charlotte deftly slid by her, pointing at the mess. “I’m afraid she dropped something. I told her to be careful. Annie, help her clean up, please, it’s the least you can do.” She glanced toward the back of the shop, and Annie’s eyes went wide with understanding.
“Right.” Annie turned to Heba. “I’m like an elephant in a tea shop sometimes. Or what is that expression? A hippo in an egg shop. No, that’s not it. A bull in a china shop. Yes! That’s it. In any event, I promise I’ll pay for it—here, let me take the broom.”
Charlotte eased away, and Annie, in response, shifted slightly so Heba had her back to Charlotte. They instinctively knew what the other was doing, like dance partners in a ballroom.
As Annie and Heba tussled over the mess and who was going to clean it up, Charlotte slipped through the door at the back of the store. Inside were a couple of desks and several file cabinets and metal shelving, as well as a dozen or so boxes and crates tucked back in a corner.
Luckily, the box she’d seen yesterday was set apart from the others and sported a bright “Egyptian Customs” sticker. She opened it up and dug inside, feeling around for the right shape. It didn’t take long for her to locate exactly what she was looking for: the statue of King Tut.
When she’d first held it in her hands in front of Heba, the weight of the piece hadn’t made an impression. It was only when Charlotte took the same statue from Annie in front of the street vender and been surprised by its lightness that it registered: The one in the Farid Gallery was far too heavy to be made only of plaster.
If someone wanted to get a stolen antiquity out of one country and into another, a cheap plaster cast would be a great way to conceal it. Especially in the form of King Tut, which was manufactured in mass quantities and wouldn’t attract attention from customs agents.
Charlotte didn’t have much time. She turned the statue upside down and, using her nail, scraped at the bottom of it, directly on the seam. The plaster began to chip away.
She dug further, listening as Annie carried on with her apology monologue. The girl was creative. A large chip fell away as Charlotte’s fingernail struck something hard. Underneath the plaster, a brilliant blue color appeared. It was polished, and the exact same hue as the Cerulean Queen.
“I’m sorry, where is your friend?” Heba’s voice carried from the other room.
She was out of time.
Charlotte quickly wrapped the statue up and tucked it into the box as Heba strode into the room, followed by a panicked-looking Annie. “What are you doing back here?” asked Heba. She crossed her arms and shot Charlotte a look.
“Sorry, I was looking for the bathroom.”
“The bathroom is not for customers.”
What Charlotte really wanted to do was grab the Cerulean Queen and make a break for the door. But now was not the time. Heba herded them out onto the sales floor.
“Did you get the mess cleaned up?” Charlotte asked Annie as brightly as she could manage.
“Yes, we’re all set,” Annie answered.
Luckily, a new batch of tourists in the company of a guide entered the store, circling around Heba like a pack of wolves. Charlotte and Annie meandered out of the shop, trying to appear relaxed. When they were safely out of view, Charlotte pulled Annie into a small alley just around the corner. “It’s there. It’s hidden inside the plaster King Tut statue.”
“The Cerulean Queen?” Annie looked like she was about to jump up and down and start yelling.
“Shhh. Yes.”
“What do we do next? Call the police?”
“I don’t know how sympathetic an Egyptian policeman will be if they don’t understand the value of Egyptian antiquities. Heba might have local connections as well.”
“Do we call Omar?”
“Yes. I think that’s best.” Charlotte imagined Heba back in the shop, taking the statue out of the box, preparing to move it to a different location. Hopefully the tourists would keep her busy until Charlotte spoke to Omar.
Heba’s reaction was strange, though. She hadn’t seemed overly angry or overly protective, more annoyed that Charlotte had trespassed beyond the shop floor.
It was almost as if she didn’t know the value of what was in her back room. “Let’s go find a phone,” Charlotte said.
“I can wait here, in case she tries to leave,” Annie offered.
“No, we have to stick together. I don’t want to put you in danger.”
Charlotte had barely finished the sentence when a hand grabbed her roughly by the back of her neck, and then she was flying through the air, landing on some boxes deep in the alley. She hardly had time to register what was going on before Annie was tossed on top of her, knocking the breath out of her lungs, the two of them flailing to get their bearings like a couple of beetles that had been turned onto their backs.
The air smelled of urine and rotting vegetables; the ground was slick with something wet and slimy. Charlotte’s heart jolted in her chest as she caught sight of a pair of khaki-covered legs heading their way. Annie rolled off her and Charlotte tried to stand, but before she could get her feet under her, a hand smacked her hard across the face, sending her flying back to the ground, the skin on her cheek burning. She wanted to curl into a ball, protect herself, but she couldn’t leave Annie exposed. They were trapped in an alley with a madman who clearly wanted to teach them a lesson, if not kill them. She threw her arms wide, trying to keep Annie safe beneath her.
The next time the man charged, Charlotte retracted one leg and kicked him hard. He cried out in pain and bent over, cupping his crotch. Charlotte again tried to scramble to her feet and lift Annie with her—they didn’t have much time. When their attacker looked up, his face was filled with fury.
He had dark hair and dark eyes, and around his neck hung a silver ankh pendant.
“It’s him,” croaked Annie.
There was no way out, nowhere to run. The man stood tall and cracked his knuckles, taking his time, knowing they were trapped. As he cocked his arm back, Charlotte shielded Annie with her own body as best she could and braced herself for the blow, closing her eyes and praying that Mark wouldn’t have to identify her bruised corpse.
But instead of feeling another sharp crack of pain, she heard a low “oomph.”
Another man had his arm around the neck of their attacker, whose eyes now bulged in shock as he struggled to get free. They bounced off the alley walls like they were in a pinball machine before their attacker finally closed his eyes and slumped over. The other man laid him on the ground and checked for a pulse. “He’s alive,” he said.
Charlotte looked into their rescuer’s eyes and realized she’d seen him before.
It was Jabari. The grandson of Mehedi, the Bedouin who’d been bitten by a cobra all those years ago and had promised to always keep Charlotte safe.
He’d kept his word.