Summer shrugged and tried an internet search. She nodded at the result. “I should have guessed. It was the throne name for Tutankhamun. He was, of course, the younger brother of Meritaten, as well as the son and successor of Akhenaten.”

  “There was a family that left their mark,” Dirk said, shaking his head. “It sounds like they didn’t realize what they had with this apium until Meritaten came along.”

  “She seems to have provided the slaves with the apium against the epidemic. Maybe there was a shortage, and that caused the strife.”

  Dirk looked out on the lake. “The tablet you found indicated that Akhenaten himself may have died of the epidemic. Maybe Meritaten took the blame—or was resented for helping others when her father died.”

  “Tutankhamun seems to indicate,” Summer said, “they hadn’t realized the power of the apium. Perhaps the Pharaoh shunned it against Meritaten’s better judgment, then she was caught up in a power struggle after his death. Maybe there is something real to this apium. It could be it’s what the gunmen are after.” She took another sip of her drink. “One thing still bothers me. The gunmen at Amarna who stole the mummy.”

  “I’ve been wondering about that, too,” Dirk said. “Why didn’t they kill us in the tomb when they had the chance?”

  “Maybe they didn’t realize what we knew, or were to find out,” she said. “That’s not what’s bothering me. When they came into the tomb, Rod said he glimpsed one of them wearing a surgical mask and rubber gloves.”

  “Both the mural and the stela mention an epidemic.”

  “Yes, but the gunmen hadn’t seen either one. It’s no secret that an epidemic had struck Amarna, yet those precautions seem odd for some ordinary grave robbers.”

  “Unless,” Dirk said, “they were specifically aware of the disease and had targeted the tomb for that reason.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  “You know, Riki told me something interesting. A few years ago they discovered another child’s tomb in Thebes. She said how furious Dr. Stanley had been when they returned to the site and found it had been ransacked.”

  “Strange he’s had two mummies of children stolen from under him. Someone’s been watching his fieldwork with a close eye.”

  “There are no mummies to be had in Faras.”

  “True. Only the stela”—Summer tapped the screen—“and the Apium of Faras.”

  “Both relate to Meritaten,” Dirk said. “Maybe someone doesn’t want her, or the apium, to be discovered.”

  “The Egyptians didn’t exactly leave us the recipe. But, we do know Meritaten took it with her when she fled.”

  “Then there’s only one way to discover the apium,” Dirk said. He finished his drink in a gulp and gave his sister a willful smile. “We find Meritaten’s grave.”

  PART III

  SECRETS OF THE LOCH

  32

  The shoes,” said a voice on the phone in the measured tone of a robot. “Where did you say they came from?”

  “A reservoir called Cerrón Grande in El Salvador,” Rudi Gunn replied. “A U.S. aid worker named Elise Aguilar wore them into the water there.”

  The voice on the phone paused. “Wasn’t that where that dam broke?”

  Dr. Susan Montgomery’s methodical nature suited her occupation as a research epidemiologist with the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.

  “Yes,” Gunn said. “That’s what made acquiring a sample so difficult.”

  “I never did receive the samples from Dr. Nakamura. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “His water samples were destroyed, that’s why we sent the shoes. We have reason to believe the samples may have had something to do with his death.”

  “How is the health of Miss Aguilar?”

  “I saw her yesterday, and spoke with her again this morning,” Gunn said. “Aside from an unrelated injury to her arm, she appears to be doing fine.”

  “Are you aware of any reported illnesses in the vicinity of the water sample?”

  “Elise believes there may be a pattern of child deaths in some of the villages surrounding the reservoir.”

  “Can you put me in touch with Miss Aguilar? I’d like to send a CDC team down to Cerrón Grande to investigate.”

  “I’ll have her give you a call. What have you found?”

  “I can’t say for certain at this point, as we just extracted a sample,” Montgomery said. “It does appear to contain a waterborne bacterium that resembles cholera.”

  “Cholera usually results from poor water sanitation, doesn’t it?” Gunn asked. “Could the reservoir water just be tainted from an unhealthy runoff?”

  “Possibly.” Montgomery paused. “But it’s curious, since there have been no reported incidences of cholera in El Salvador in more than a decade. More worrisome are the potential deaths you mentioned.”

  “The circumstances do seem strange,” Gunn said.

  “Still, I don’t wish to be premature,” Montgomery cautioned. “We’ll know more shortly. Biochemical and DNA testing will confirm exactly what’s in the water. In the meantime, I would check the health of all parties who have been in or around the reservoir.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I’d appreciate it if you can keep me apprised of your findings.”

  “I certainly will. I’m glad you and Miss Aguilar turned to us for help.”

  Gunn made two more calls. Though it was after five p.m., he had one more task for the day. He took the stairs to the fifth floor and found Hiram Yaeger at his usual post, the curved table in front of the huge video board. He was reviewing code with a pair of young software engineers, and Gunn waited until they returned to nearby cubicles before sitting beside Yaeger.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting,” Gunn said.

  Yaeger shook his head. “A minor software glitch with our North Atlantic iceberg-tracking satellite system uplink.”

  “I just got off the phone with Dr. Susan Montgomery of the CDC in Atlanta. It seems that there is something in the waters of Cerrón Grande Reservoir.”

  “Is Pitt in any danger?”

  “Doubtful. He’d have exhibited ill effects by now. I left him a message, but he just departed on an overseas flight. I also spoke with the young woman he rescued, Elise Aguilar, and she’s fine. She agreed to see her doctor, just to be sure.”

  “What’s in the water?” Yaeger asked.

  “Montgomery thinks it could be cholera. She’s waiting for test results.”

  “Dirk and Elise would have felt that pretty quick.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You think it’s something more than that?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know what to think. Montgomery indicated there’d been no reported cases of cholera in El Salvador in years. Can you check if there’ve been any other cholera-type outbreaks recently?”

  Yaeger was tapping a keyboard before Gunn finished his sentence. The video board displayed a glowing map of the world’s oceans, save for an upper-corner table of Egyptian hieroglyphics. At Yaeger’s instruction, the table disappeared, replaced by the search page.

  “What was that?” Gunn asked.

  “The inscription on a monument Dirk and Summer found on the bottom of Lake Nasser.”

  “I thought they were on their way home,” Gunn said. “I canceled their remaining project work until the Egyptian authorities agreed to provide better security. They and Zeibig were lucky not to have been killed by those tomb robbers.”

  “They seem to think there’s something at play beyond artifact theft.”

  Gunn shook his head. “Whatever it is, it’s not worth the risk.”

  The corner video screen came alive with a list of worldwide cholera outbreaks over the past two years. The deadliest incidences were in Africa, Yemen, Haiti, and India.

  “Global cholera numbers have generally been receding, but it looks like there’s been a recent uptick. Sub-Saharan Africa has long wrestled with the disease,” Yaeger said. “With the ongoing war, Yemen has had a severe disruption of health and sanitation services. Haiti is still recuperating from its earthquake, while India continues to upgrade its weak infrastructure.”

  “Its occurrence in those locations is understandable. Are there any other significant outbreaks of the disease?”

  Yaeger tapped his keyboard again. “A number of places have indeed seen an increase in reported cases within the past year. Mumbai, Cairo, Karachi, and Shanghai top the list. I recall a large outbreak in Mumbai hitting the news recently, which was apparently widespread throughout the city.”

  “I’m surprised to see Shanghai on the list,” Gunn said.

  Yaeger initiated a side search. “According to news reports, it was due to suspected pollutants that weren’t properly treated at a wastewater facility. Fatalities have been ongoing.”

  Gunn shook his head. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see if the CDC and the FBI come up with anything in El Salvador.”

  He stood to leave, but Yaeger raised his hand. “Hang on, Rudi. I’ve got some additional research you asked for.” He reached for a thin folder and passed it to Gunn.

  Gunn glanced at the title page, retook his seat. “BioRem Global Limited, our partner in Detroit. What did you find of interest?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. It’s a privately held company, so the public record is slim. It was founded in the late 1990s by Dr. Frasier Smyth McKee, who was by all accounts a genius biochemist. He left a research post at Edinburgh University to start the firm. He originally focused on cleaning up oil spills in the North Sea using microorganisms.” Yaeger nodded toward the file. “The firm has since expanded its product portfolio to treat a variety of hazardous wastes with genetically engineered microbes.”

  “Is McKee still around?”

  “He was killed in a boating accident five years ago. His wife, Evanna McKee, inherited the company, and runs it today.”

  “Yes, I’ve spoken with her.”

  “She’s a major figure in the world of business and politics, though the company itself is nearly invisible.”

  “What’s the scope of their work?”

  “Difficult to say. Many of their jobs are contracted privately. No one likes to advertise they have a toxic spill. The file lists a handful of high-profile jobs that made the press.”

  Gunn flipped through the report. “They’re certainly Johnny-on-the-spot when it comes to international accidents,” he said. “A fertilizer plant fire on the Yangtze River, a chemical spill on the Seine near Paris, and a ruptured oil tank in Karachi. And that’s all in the past six months.”

  “Their global presence is much more notable over the past two years.”

  Gunn turned the page and stiffened in his chair. The sheet listed three additional projects.

  “A petroleum pipeline rupture near Mumbai, a leaking cyanide leaching pit at an El Salvador gold mine, and a chemical spill in Cairo.” He glanced at the video wall, which still displayed the table of cholera outbreaks.

  “Mumbai and Cairo are on the list, along with Karachi. The Yangtze River site could be Shanghai. And that’s in addition to El Salvador.”

  “Does seem like some common ground,” Yaeger said. “Let’s see what we can find out about the gold mine cleanup.”

  He retrieved a handful of local news articles from the Salvadoran media and had them translated from Spanish. The two skimmed the articles on the big screen.

  “A cyanide leaching pit at the former Potonico gold mine was breached in an apparent landslide,” Yaeger said. “Authorities questioned whether environmental protestors may have triggered the slide to generate support for a countrywide ban on mining.”

  “Where is it located?” Gunn asked.

  Yaeger displayed a map of El Salvador. “Northeast part of the country. Thirty miles from San Salvador, on the shores of Cerrón Grande Reservoir.”

  “Bingo! There’s a connection.”

  “Sounds like the BioRem product for cleaning up the gold mine mess,” Yaeger said, “may have had some unpleasant side effects.”

  “Fatal side effects that may have spread through the reservoir—and that, possibly, were sufficient motivation to blow up the dam and kill the U.S. aid team. What can you find on their Cairo project?”

  Yaeger retrieved and translated local Egyptian news accounts. “Looks like a tanker spill in the Nile, at the head of the Ismailia Canal. Another collision, this one accompanied by a large fire.”

  “Any correlation with the cholera outbreak?”

  Yaeger skimmed the results. “It appears there was a brief yet widely dispersed outbreak in Cairo’s northeastern suburbs. Two hundred fatalities were recorded, but the actual number is believed much higher on account of unreported deaths. Authorities believe the source was tap water that was improperly treated. The outbreak occurred several days after the tanker accident.”

  “Another hit,” Gunn said.

  “Take a look at this article from the Cairo News.”

  A news snippet appeared with a side box translation titled “No bodies of crew recovered in fiery late night collision on Nile.”

  “Sounds just like Detroit,” Yaeger said.

  Gunn leaned forward as he read the article. Then he slumped into his seat and loosened his tie. “Hiram,” he said. “I think we’re going to need some coffee.”

  33

  St. Julian Perlmutter was seated at his kitchen table, wearing his favorite paisley robe, when the phone rang. He reached past a stack of open books and a plate of half-eaten Danish, to answer a brass telephone salvaged from a 1940s luxury liner.

  “Perlmutter,” he said in a gruff baritone that originated deep in his massive frame.

  “Hi, Julian. It’s Summer.”

  “Well, hello, Miss Pitt.” His voice melted to jocularity. “How are things in the Nile Valley?”

  “Insufferably hot, and as dry as a naked martini. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  Perlmutter glanced at an antique clock mounted above the stove, which read eight-fifteen a.m. “Not at all. Been up since five, poking around with your inquiry.”

  “So you received my email?”

  “Indeed. It’s quite a tale you two have cooked up. Egyptian princesses and ancient plagues.”

  “It does sound rather unbelievable,” she said. “That’s why we wanted to run it by your learned eye, as well as to ask if you had any research on Princess Meritaten fleeing Egypt by sea.”

  Perlmutter, a longtime friend of the Pitt family, was perhaps the world’s foremost marine historian. His Georgetown house outside of Washington was packed to the rafters with ship logbooks, sailing narratives, and maritime history books. The heavily built historian, known for his fondness of gourmet dining, had an encyclopedic knowledge of sea vessels, from the first dugout canoes to the latest cruise ships.

  He chuckled into the phone. “I’m no Egyptologist, but I know a good one, Bob Samuelson out of Columbia. We had a nice chat about your discoveries. He confirmed your findings about the Habiru and their connection to Meritaten are quite stunning, particularly the Amarna mural that may depict a plague.

  “As your British archeologist noted,” Perlmutter said, “there’s evidence of a widespread epidemic during the reign of Akhenaten that may have killed members of the royal family. Dr. Samuelson noted an interesting fact. After Akhenaten, no pharaoh sired a male heir for nearly fifty years. At least in his lineage, there was a long-term absence of male offspring.”

  “That’s curious,” Summer said. “Whatever the plague, Meritaten may have had some sort of cure in the form of the Apium of Faras.”

  “Our interpretation as well. Do we know if the child in the Amarna tomb died from this plague?”

  “The tomb mural seems to indicate that, but with the mummy stolen, we’ll never know.”

  “Of course. It seems as if someone is going to quite a bit of trouble to conceal the young princess and her connection to the Habiru. Or perhaps the curative.”

  “That’s our conclusion as well,” Summer said. “We have Hiram Yaeger on the hunt for what the Apium of Faras might actually be. We hoped you might shed some light on where Meritaten may have sailed in her bid to escape.”

  “I do have information on the the travels of an Egyptian princess,” he said. “You see, the ancient Egyptians were in fact excellent sailors and shipbuilders. The first use of a sail may well have been on a reed boat in the Nile, and later they constructed huge barges to transport stone for their construction projects. In the New Kingdom period, when Akhenaten ruled, Egypt was known to trade with mainland Greece and as far away as the Horn of Africa. So there’s no doubt our Princess Meritaten had the means to travel a great distance in a sailing vessel, or perhaps a fleet. And apparently she did.”

  “You found evidence of her voyage?”

  “And quite a bit more. The archeologists tell us there’s been no discovery of her burial in Egypt, so it’s safe to look beyond. There we find circumstantial evidence she may have traveled to the Iberian Peninsula and established a settlement near Amposta, Spain, south of Barcelona.”

  “That sounds logical,” Summer said. “Just across the Mediterranean, yet beyond the reach of Egyptian authorities. That’s a marvelous discovery, Julian. Are there ruins in Spain that Dirk and I should examine?”

  “You won’t want to waste your time there, as she didn’t stay in Spain long. In fact, you’ll want to look quite a bit farther north,” Perlmutter said. “It seems our Egyptian princess was well traveled—and she had a more profound impact on history than you could have imagined.”

  “What could that be?”

  Perlmutter let out a chuckle. “Would you believe, my dear, nothing short of founding a Celtic empire?”

  34

  Loren shook her head, then closed the window. “Slow down! I agreed to the car. I didn’t say you could drive like a madman.”