Chapter 7 #3
My attention falls back to the two men. There’s still a small chance Bes and his cousin are lying… but what would be the purpose?
I throw my hands up. “And where could possibly be safe?”
“Well, you can’t go home,” Cec explains, “not yet anyway.”
This isn’t happening. “What do you mean, I can’t go home?” I demand. “Wouldn’t going home be the best thing for me? Put some distance between myself and Germany?”
“You don’t know these God Men like we do,” Bes reminds me. “Wherever you went on this earth, they’d follow you. Hurt the people you love if they had to. The God Men likely believe you’re… involved somehow.”
My stomach drops.
“Alright, since you seem to know everything else, where else can we go?” I wonder, my voice too small for my liking.
Cec turns his head slightly toward Bes.
Bes grimaces. “Something tells me I’m not going to care for your suggestion.”
“You’re not,” Cec confirms. “She needs to go to Arturo’s, in the Dolomites.”
Bes swears under his breath. “Is this truly necessary?”
“You know as well as I do that it’s the only please she’ll be safe from the God Men.”
The amulet sits a bit heavier on my chest, my fate weighing on me. But I can’t let it.
I straighten, allowing myself another curiosity. “Does this Uncle Arturo have any books on the Amulet of Amun?”
Cec crooks a smile. “I have no doubts that he does.”
I nod. Not that I should care about the answer. Despite the odds set against me, I’m going to try to escape this place while I still have the chance. I’ll never set eyes on those books if I have anything to say about it. But, if I do end up needing to go there, at least it’ll serve a purpose.
“Is there any way we can speak with Pierre Lacau?” I ask, becoming desperate to find another way home. “I know he’s the curator here, and I’m certain he can help us.”
Best shakes his head. “Unfortunately, Mr. Lacau left his post fairly recently to go back to France, and…”
My heart slides up my throat. “And what?”
“And no one knows why,” Bes finishes. “His replacement, étienne Drioton, has yet to arrive.”
I stare down into the nearly-empty teacup. “Leaving a perfect opening to hatch an insidious plot.”
Thinking about more of those God Men finding us and trying to kill us, my pulse rises to a hard gallop. “Is it even possible to leave the museum? If you’re right about the curator’s assistant, then we may be surrounded by enemies even now.”
“Precisely,” Cec says, tapping the end of his cane on the floor. “Which means we need to get you out of Egypt and to the only place we know to be safe until we can sort this all out.”
I press my thumb between my brow, my headache returning.
“How could your uncle’s house possibly be safe beyond any doubt?”
“You’ll have to trust us,” Cec says, as if it’s that simple.
“I know it’s unfair, Miss Hawkins,” Bes says softly.
He reaches for my hand but then pulls away, getting to his feet.
Some part of me wished he would’ve consoled me.
God knows I need it. “The museum never should’ve involved you or your nonna in the first place.
But the fact remains that they did, and all we can do now is move forward. ”
“And why should I trust you?” I demand, my hands shaking. “What have you done to prove to me that you have my best interests at heart, besides what my nonna requested? And I still have no idea how you know her.”
Bes shakes his head. “I told you: my Uncle Arturo and her are more than acquainted enough to be considered friends.”
I curl my toes in their shoes. “I don’t believe you.”
“Arturo thought you might say that,” Cec says, then reaches into his pants’ pocket and procures a ring. The flat top glimmers a soft matte gold in the lamplight. “Your nonna left this with Arturo when she emigrated from Italy—he said you’d know exactly what it is.”
I take it from him, the weight of it surprisingly heavy.
Upon close inspection, it’s not just any ring: it’s a signet ring. I recognize the symbol on the rounded side almost immediately: the Florentine Lily. Extremely similar to the French fleur-de-lis but with the added stamens between the petals, as well as roots descending from its base.
Nonna used to tell me about this ring from time to time.
My mother’s family, the Fiore’s, hail from Florence and supposedly descend from the Medici family.
It’s not exactly a unique symbol… but it takes me no time at all to note the slight dent on the flattened middle, obscuring the symbol there.
Nonna mentioned she once dropped it off a tall building onto cobblestone by mistake.
This is Nonna’s ring alright. They must be telling the truth. I place the ring on my left pointer finger, where it fits perfectly.
Bes clears his throat. “As I said, they’re friends. Your tita was merely concerned for you and reached out to the only person she knew who was still involved with the Cairo museum. Nothing more.”
I nod, my chest slowly unclenching. I’m well aware of Nonna’s many contacts around the world, and Cec just provided the proof I needed to confirm their acquaintance. A strange sense of relief floods me knowing that she put all this in place in case something went awry.
Finally, the indignation slowly leaves my body.
Because, if I don’t put my faith in someone besides myself, I’m going to die in Egypt.
I can’t afford to let the God Men find me, especially when there’s no reasoning with them.
Once they realize I’m useless to them, they’ll try to kill me, just like Claude did.
If Nonna trusts this Arturo, then so do I.
Cec takes my silence as acceptance and his cue to stand; I follow suit, even as my legs tremble slightly beneath me.
I feel as if I’m floating outside my body, an unseen puppeteer pulling all my strings.
Under different circumstances, I’d love to visit Italy, seek out a few of Nonna’s relatives, eat some fantastic food and drink as much wine as I want.
Right now, though, I’m desperate to go home.
I want to touch American soil, sleep in my own bed, and leave this place and all its problems behind me.
“I’ll meet you at the Alexandria Harbor at midnight,” Cec offers.
“From there, we’ll travel by boat. Arturo called in one of his many favors, so there should be one waiting for us.
But, if not, I didn’t have enough time to procure false papers before coming here.
If it’s a commercial vessel, we’ll have to keep out of sight belowdecks. ”
Procure false papers? Nonna must’ve endeavored to prepare for every eventuality.
“Oh,” he adds, “and we’ll need to make a quick stop in the Port of Civitavecchia.”
The port of what now?
“Why can’t we fly?” I wonder, my mind still sifting through all the possibilities. “It’d be much quicker to take a plane than a boat.”
Cec taps his fingers against the amber eyes of the raven head. “Right again. However, the latter is safer than the former. If the God Men were able to intercept you in Luxor, it means there are Third Reich spies lurking about, and most certainly ones at the airfield in Cairo.”
“Even though Egypt is occupied by the British?”
“You’d be surprised how easily they can blend in, manipulating those around them. No.” Cec shakes his head. “Best to be safe and travel by sea, as planned.”
With no further prompting, Cec strides for the door he breezed in through, cane hovering over the tile floor. He stops at the threshold without turning.
“I’m sorry for all this. Truly, I am.”
So am I.
He cracks open the door and slips through before I can say it aloud, the tip of his cane marking his journey. It echoes alongside the hard-beating of my heart until it disappears.
“Are you alright?” Bes asks, his voice low.
Despite feeling his gaze on me, I keep my silence. I want to tell him I’m not alright. That, as childish as it sounds, I just want to go home.
I’m such a fool. I was so ready to leave home—to abandon the only family I have, no matter how temporary—that I didn’t think through the dangers of traveling halfway around the world on my own.
And look what it’s gotten me: in less than twenty-four hours, I’ve been carted across Egypt by two different strangers, had guns shoved into my back and pointed at my face, stolen a priceless necklace from the Egyptian god of the dead, nearly died inside an ancient temple that I partly destroyed, and killed a cheap imitation Nazi.
The last point cuts deepest. As much as I’d love to make a villain of Claude, he was a man of flesh and blood. He likely had some sort of family, at least one person who loved and cared about him. And I killed him. He forced my hand, but that doesn’t make what I did alright.
I hate him for the demon he was, but I hate myself more for having to be the one to rid the world of him.
Now, I have no choice but to place my life in the hands of two more strangers who know far more than they should, and are definitely not telling me everything.
Just because they think I need their protection, and just because Nonna thinks she knows best, doesn’t mean I can’t try to find my own way out of this.
I’ll simply have to keep my wits about me, and my switchblade within reach.
Taking a settling breath, I remove my hands from my midsection. “No, I’m not. But I will be.”
He moves to stand in front of me, closer than I would’ve expected. Though I have no idea why, his presence proves to be remarkably soothing to my nerves. Must be the time difference wreaking havoc on my emotions.
“I couldn’t be more sorry about this,” he admits. “If it weren’t for the museum curator sending you that telegram, you wouldn’t be here.”
He’s right, but his words don’t mean anything. Not anymore.
“None of that matters now,” I mutter.
“Cec and I will protect you,” he assures me, “at whatever cost.”
Whether he believes it himself or not, I can’t trust his promise. Not after everything I’ve seen and heard.
I don’t respond, boring a hole into his chest and refusing to meet his gaze. My entire life has been upended, but, for the life of me, I can’t look this man in the eye.
“I should gather my things.”
Still, I don’t move.
Stop being foolish.
Without looking up, I make myself move around him.
Snatching up my suitcase and rucksack from where I left them, I fling the doors open and hasten toward the back exit.