Beyond the Grave - - 39 Clues 04 Read online

  "Then some archaeologist can study you," Dan said.

  "You don't understand," Theo said. "You didn't even seem to want the statue. It was just part of some silly scavenger hunt. You didn't realize what you had!" "Theo!" Hilary cried. "When you asked me to meet you here, I never thought... " Her hands flew to her mouth.

  "Oh, please," Nellie said. She crossed to the phone.

  "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Theo continued. "But after all, you know what Egyptologists make. You study for years and years, you go down into tombs, you pore over papyrus, and what do you get for it? A job offer as some assistant curator in a museum with a salary that won't even cover the rent."

  Hilary buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Theo. If you'd just let me take him away, I

  promise ... I'll make it up to you."

  Amy stared at her hand. "That's a nice ring, Hilary."

  "Thank you, dear."

  "When did you get to Aswan?"

  "Just now, ducks. Theo asked me to meet him; I had no idea why."

  "No idea," Amy repeated. "That's funny, because I saw you at the airport this morning. You stood next to some old guy, hoping it would look like you were with him. You're

  the one who tried to saw off my waist pack!" She turned to Theo. "And you pretended to drop your sunglasses so she could do it!"

  Hilary gave a laugh that sounded strangled. "What an imagination!"

  "Oh, really, Grandmother, give it up," Theo said tiredly. "Do you really think you're fooling anybody?"

  "I can if you'd cooperate!" Hilary hissed.

  With a look at Hilary's twisted face, Amy's fury returned. Betrayed once again, taken for a fool. "How could you do it?" she demanded. "How could you betray Grace? She was your best friend!"

  "Exactly!" Hilary cried. "And she had all the money in the world while I slipped into

  poverty. I wasn't in her will. Why shouldn't I get a piece of her estate?" "You are one greedy old woman," Nellie said, shaking her head. "Bad karma."

  Again, Amy thought angrily. She'd trusted someone, and it turned out to be the completely wrong thing to do. Now she didn't know whether to be angrier at Hilary or herself.

  Theo sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I took your statue," he said to Amy and Dan. "But when somebody offers you a cool million, what are you going to do?" Nellie picked up the phone.

  "Wait a second," Dan said. "Who offered you a cool million?"

  "Some crazy Russian lady." Nellie put down the phone.

  "Just where did you see this crazy Russian lady?" Amy asked.

  Theo looked abashed. "In Nefertari's tomb. I bumped into her in the antechamber."

  "You were the one making the mummy noise?" Dan demanded.

  "I thought... if you got scared enough... you'd give me the Sakhet for safekeeping,"

  Theo said.

  "You're the one who sent those warning messages, too," Nellie said, her eyes narrowing

  to slits. "Admit it."

  Theo nodded. He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry? You lock my two kids in a tomb and you say sorry?" Nellie yelled. "I'll show you sorry!" She started to dial.

  "Wait a second, Nellie," Amy said. "I think we can make a deal here." She turned to Theo and Hilary. "We won't turn either of you in. If you both do us a favor."

  CHAPTER 19

  The blond archaeologist, or should she say thief, seemed nervous. Probably because he was double-crossing a couple of kids whose only legacy from their beloved grandmother was a crazy contest they were bound to lose and a priceless statue. And thanks to him, they'd lost the statue.

  Well, sore luck for them, Irina thought.

  The guidebook had turned out to be a dead end. No hints, just notes in the margins, stupid things like don't miss this! And good food here.

  A big fat zero for any Aswan Clues. What a waste of time. She'd already thrown it away. Having Grace's thoughts, no matter how trivial, just made her eye twitch.

  Irina circled back around to the cafe where Theo Cotter sat waiting, his fingers drumming on the small tiled table, the bag at his feet. She knew she hadn't been followed. She'd passed by the cafe three times to make sure. She slid into the chair next to him. "You have the Sakhet?"

  "You have the money?"

  She inclined her head. "As we agreed. It will be wired to Swiss account once I authenticate the statue." She had no intention of wiring the money. She didn't need the statue, she needed what was inside it. Lucians had been searching for it over the centuries. She wasn't sure why, but once she had it, she'd know. "First, I will examine in ladies' room."

  She picked up the small bag, then moved through the tables to the restroom. She locked the door securely.

  She turned over the statue in her hands. It was a Sakhet, she knew that, with a lion's

  head. Golden, as had been reported by the great Lucian Napoleon. The eyes were

  emeralds, she supposed -- she didn't know anything about gems. Everything appeared

  to be as it should be. Irina tapped the statue gently, searching for the trick to open it.

  She saw a hairline crack along the lion's mane. She slid a narrow stiletto (so useful that

  knife had been over the years!) into the crack and the head revolved counterclockwise

  easily. It revealed a small compartment inside. Turning the statue over again, she

  shook it. A rolled piece of papyrus fell out.

  [proofreader's note: the scroll says

  Gizeh, Thebes, Rabat and Cairo,

  This land of queens and goddesses will guide you

  Straight to the place where camels wait

  And donkeys file amid the strait

  To the palace steps you'll find your way

  As midnight strikes full moon on bay

  You'll find my answer on the quay!]

  It sounded like a load of horseradish. But the hints toward Clues never did make sense, until you got to the place where you were guided. Rabat was a city in Morocco. No doubt everything would be clear once she got there. Carefully, Irina slid the secret compartment closed. She put the paper in her pocket and the statue back into the bag.

  She threaded her way back through the tables and plunked the bag back down at Cotter's feet. "I'm surprised you would try to cheat me," she said. "That is never good idea. This is fake statue." "But I assure you, it's genuine."

  "Ha! You think for me I was born last Thursday? No money for you." Irina got up and hurried away.

  She wondered if the airport had direct flights to Morocco. The ancient city of Rabat was her next stop.

  As she jumped into a taxi, she congratulated herself. She'd gotten over that brief

  moment of sentiment in Nefertari's tomb. She couldn't allow herself to be weak again.

  Once she had the 39 Clues, she could maybe afford to be generous. Or maybe not

  generous, no need to go overboard. Maybe just a little ... less strict. Until then, she

  would allow no more distractions. And she would never step foot in another tomb. Too

  many ghosts. Too many memories ...

  Irina's eye began to twitch.

  "Aswan airport. And step on it with foot!"

  CHAPTER 20

  "It worked," Dan said. "That's good, right?"

  "Right," Amy said. Irina had taken off for Morocco, and they'd seen Theo and Hilary board the plane to Cairo.

  "Why do you look so bummed?" Nellie asked. "You should be celebrating. You had this great plan -- you bought some old papyrus, and Theo copied Katherine's handwriting perfectly. We found the perfect fake statue and drilled the hole. Thanks to our collective brilliance, you just sent your worst enemy on a one-way trip to a wild goose chase. Besides, I'm the one who should be crying. My heart is broken." Nellie waved her spoon, then scooped up another spoonful of yogurt and honey. "Oh, yum." "Your heart was broken for about five minutes," Amy said.

  Nellie shrugged. "What, am I supposed to stop eating?" She pointed her spoon at Amy. "Never regret trusting someone. It proves you
have a heart. But if he turns out to be a

  lying worm ... I'm not going to waste my time crying. Because I am way too fabulous for that."

  Amy knew that Nellie was telling her to get over Ian. Could she really borrow some of

  Nellie's confidence? She never felt fabulous.

  Some days if she was lucky, she hit the high mark of not bad.

  "It was a brilliant plan," Dan said. "You knew Irina wouldn't fork over a million dollars." "She doesn't have a million dollars," Amy said. "She was going to double-cross Theo. All she wanted was the lead. And she wanted it so badly she didn't stop to think that it came a little too easily."

  "That's the fatal flaw of the Lucians," Dan said. "They think they're brilliant." Nellie scooped up the rest of her yogurt and stretched. "I'm taking off for the pool. Suggestion -- try to bypass the adventure highway for today?" "I've been thinking," Dan said as Nellie took off. "I think Grace prepped us for this trip. Remember when she took us to New York for the weekend? We went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and spent a bunch of hours in the Egyptian wing. Remember the Temple of Dendur?"

  "That's right!" Amy exclaimed. "She told us all about the Aswan High Dam, and how it flooded all these monuments they had to rescue, like the Temple of Dendur. But that's all I remember. If she gave us a hint that day, it's lost."

  "She bought us hot pretzels," Dan said. "That, I remember."

  Memory bloomed inside Amy. One of hundreds that were buried in her head and heart about her grandmother. Eating pretzels with mustard on the steps of the museum. It had been fall -- she remembered the brilliant orange trees in Central Park. Grace had already been through one round of chemotherapy. They'd all thought she had licked her cancer, that she would be well, that she would live forever. Well. Amy and Dan had thought that. Because Grace had wanted them to. For as long as they could.

  What wonderful things we saw today, Grace had said.

  But sometimes people spend too much time in the past. Nothing I saw today is as good as this pretzel! She'd waved it in the air and taken a bite.

  She hadn't meant just the pretzel. Amy knew that now. She'd meant everything at that moment. The now. The three of them together, sitting on the museum steps on a perfect fall day, eating pretzels and mustard from a sidewalk vendor. The memory didn't just belong to her. It belonged to Dan. He remembered things like that. Random moments that seemed small but were actually huge. Often those moments passed her by because she was so busy worrying about something stupid like catching a bus. Or mustard on her new skirt. She took the Sakhet out of her waist pack and put it on the table.

  "What should we do with her?" she asked. "I don't feel safe carrying her around Aswan. It's your call." What she was really saying was, Grace belongs to both of us.

  Dan met her eyes. He knew. "Maybe the hotel safe?" he asked. "Then we can meet Nellie at the pool and do something you'll think is really radical."

  "Like what?"

  Dan gave his crooked grin. "Have fun."

  ** *

  "Ah, Miss Cahill." The manager rose to greet her from his desk. He hurried to shake her hand. "I was so glad when you phoned. I knew your grandmother very well."

  "You did?"

  "Grace Cahill was a favorite guest for many years. She came first in the late forties and then just about every year for more than twenty years. We have hotel archives, and she's featured prominently."

  "I didn't know that."

  "Oh, yes. We have a wonderful photograph of your grandmother painting by the Nile. Would you like to see it?" He reached into his desk. "I tracked it down after you phoned."

  Amy looked at the black-and-white photograph. Grace was younger and slimmer, wearing white trousers and a white shirt. A scarf was wrapped around her head. She was sitting at an easel somewhere in the gardens, facing the river. Next to her an older, stout man in a straw hat was painting the same scene. "Isn't that... " "Yes, Sir Winston Churchill, also a favorite guest. Prime Minister of Great Britain during World War Two, great statesman, all that. But also -- did you know this? -- a painter. He always told Grace she needed lessons from him. I believe this photograph was taken in the 1950s."

  "Thank you for showing it to me. I was wondering if you'd keep something in the safe for me," Amy said, holding out the box with the Sakhet.

  "Of course." He turned and opened the safe and placed the Sakhet inside. "And now, I must apologize to you for something." He took something else out of the safe. "Grace Cahill called us a year ago and asked us to track down a painting she had done and left as a gift. She wanted to buy it back. The manager before me had it hanging in his office for years. Then, after a renovation, it was misplaced. When she called, we searched and couldn't find it. Yet just today, when I went looking for this photograph, I found it. Now I'd like to present it to you as a gift, with the hotel's apologies." He handed her a small wrapped package.

  Amy hugged it to her chest. "Thank you."

  ** *

  "You see?" Amy held out the painting to Dan. "Remember what Grace said in the card.

  Don't forget the art! Here it is!"

  It was a watercolor of the Nile, and she recognized Grace's style as well as the view. She'd captured the spiky palms, the green water, the delicate legs of the sandpipers on the banks.

  Dan sighed. "I have a feeling I'm not getting my swim." Amy flipped the painting onto the bed. She bent back the nails that secured the painting to the frame. Dan watched as she carefully lifted off the backing and then lifted the painting out of the frame. "There's something not right about this." Dan squinted at it. He took it and held it up to the light. "Look. Grace painted on the back of somebody else's painting."

  Amy leaned closer to examine a scrawl at the bottom. "Grace painted on the back of Winston Churchill's painting." She grinned. "This must be her revenge for him telling her that she needed art lessons from him."

  "Amy, this was her revenge on a Cahill,"

  Dan said. "Look at Churchill's painting. Do you see how the sunlight is all directed to one place? It's the island of Philae. See the Temple of Isis? This is the real island, before it was submerged."

  "You're right! Churchill must have painted it as a hint toward the clue! I wonder which branch of the family he was in."

  "I don't know, but if I had to guess, I'd bet he's a Lucian," Dan said. "He had that mastermind-of-destiny thing going on."

  "I guess she painted over it to hide it," Amy said. She held the painting up again. "Wait a minute. Do you see these waves that Grace painted? What do they look like to you?" She pointed to waves, orange-tipped from the setting sun.

  Dan looked for a long moment. "Arrows," he said. "They're arrows."

  "If you hold the painting up, you can see Churchill's painting of Philae. The arrows are pointing to that wall."

  "The encircling arm!" Dan cried. "This is a map," Amy said. "Pointing to Katherine's

  clue!"

  "Great," Dan said in a defeated voice. "The clue is underwater. Maybe I am

  getting my swim. With the crocodiles. And those flesh-burrowing parasites."

  Amy tapped her fingers on the desk. "There has to be a solution," she said.

  Just then she noticed that the drawer to the desk was slightly open. She turned her

  head to the side and saw a small metal object inside.

  Their room was bugged!

  CHAPTER 21

  The room door slammed. Nellie tossed her key on the dresser. "That pool is better than

  a chai smoothie. I am totally refreshed. Let me grab a shower and we'll discuss dinner

  plans. We only have one more evening in Aswan and I have some ideas."

  Nellie stepped into the bathroom. Dan and Amy crowded in with her and closed the

  door.

  "Guys? Uh, I know we've gotten close and all? But this is a little too much togetherness for me, 'kay?" Nellie said.

  Amy reached over and turned on the shower full blast. "The hotel room is bugged," she said underneath the noise of t
he rushing water.

  "Bugs in this hotel? Impossible. What is it, a spider or something? Chill out, I'll take care

  of it."

  "Not bugs, bugged,"

  Dan said. "As in, illegal surveillance."

  "We need you to go out there and cover for us while we search for whoever's bugging us," Amy said. "Whoever it is, he or she is probably nearby."

  "All you have to do is keep talking. We've thought a lot about this, and we think you have the necessary skills," Dan said.

  "Very funny, Dan-o. But true. When it comes to nonstop chat, I'm the champ," Nellie agreed.

  Nellie turned off the shower and they all returned to the main room. "That pool is so fine," she said, as if she'd never been interrupted. "I met this couple from Scotland, and

  I was all, whoa, you have some delish smoked salmon in your excellent country "

  Amy raised the window carefully, not making a sound. She and Dan quietly climbed out.

  " -- and they were all,

  'Aye, lassie, we dew, ye ken our bonny fish, ye dew!'"

  Nellie said in a terrible Scottish accent. "So I said, 'You know what ye lads and lassies need in Scotland? Bagels! To go with!'

  'Whoa,'

  they said,

  'lassie, ye canna be serious, that is one orrrig-in-al guid idea

  "' With the drone of Nellie's Scottish burr in their ears, they hurried away.

  Down the curving path, under the palms, past the gardens, and circling back to the front door of the hotel.

  "I'm betting lobby," Dan said. "The device has a wireless transmitter, so we're going to have to examine everyone's ears." "And how are we going to do that?" "Say we're at a Q-Tip convention?"

  They strolled inside. The lobby was crowded with guests taking shelter from the mid-afternoon heat.

  Dan and Amy paused near a column and watched the crowd. At first it was hard to single any one person out. Tourists stood and sat and chatted, read guidebooks and magazines, passed each other newspapers, all taking a breather before the next round of temples.

  Dan pointed with his chin to a man sitting with his back to them. He was a beefy guy in a stiff straw hat, a newspaper held up in front of his face. His thick neck was sunburned bright red. "He hasn't turned a page in five minutes. And he's got something in his ear. Come on."