His statement did nothing to quell the churning feeling in Abigail’s stomach. “Given that Fouad was murdered, will the police be there?” she asked, and then immediately caught herself. “The police won’t know he was murdered, will they? They will think he died from an allergic reaction to bee stings.”

  “And it’s best that we let his wife think that as well,” Riley said.

  “We’re going there to speak with his wife?”

  Riley did not respond but stopped dead in his tracks. “This is the address I was given.” He bustled her inside.

  Abigail looked around. “I thought there’d be security.”

  “Lucky for us, there isn’t.” The elevator opened onto a wide corridor of glistening marble floors. Abigail considered there must be good money in stolen artifacts. It sounded to her as though Fouad was a modern day version of a tomb robber.

  Riley knocked on the door and a woman poked her head around. “Who are you?” she asked, looking him up and down.

  “I’m from the American government,” Riley said, showing her his identification. “This is an expert who works with us, an expert in ancient artifacts. We would like to ask you some questions about your husband.”

  The woman’s eyes grew wide, and she hesitated. Abigail half expected the door to be slammed in their faces. In fact, Abigail thought the woman was shutting the door, but apparently she had only shut it to remove the chain, because it opened presently. “Come in,” the woman said.

  Packaging cartons were all over the apartment. “You’re leaving?” Riley said.

  She sniffled and then nodded. “My husband said if anything were to happen to him, I should leave and stay with my sister.” She waved to a large leather couch.

  “We’re terribly sorry about your husband,” Riley said. “We were meeting with him. We were the ones who are supposed to buy the papyrus from him.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Where is it now?” she asked, suspicion in her tone.

  “We were supposed to meet your husband at The Hanging Church. We were still outside in the courtyard when we heard a woman scream. We ran in and found your husband, deceased. The woman who screamed told us a young boy stole your husband’s backpack and ran away with it.”

  Recognition dawned on the woman’s face. “That’s why he didn’t use his EpiPen.”

  “And I’m afraid the papyrus was in the backpack,” Riley said.

  “So, it wasn’t an accidental death!” she spat. “I warned him! I told him not to play both sides.”

  Abigail gave a little gasp. She hoped the woman hadn’t noticed. And so much for keeping the fact Fouad was murdered from her.

  “Play both sides?” Riley said slowly.

  A slow red flush traveled up the woman’s face. “Fouad was beginning to get greedy. I told him it would be his downfall.”

  “Specifically, how was he getting greedy?” Riley prompted her.

  The woman had no hesitation answering. “Apparently, he’d offered it to one group, but they wouldn’t pay his price so then he offered it to another group.” She looked Riley up and down. “I suppose that group was your people. You are the ones who were supposed to buy it from him.”

  Riley opened his mouth to speak, but the woman pressed on. “It must have been the other group who killed him.”

  “Who knew about his allergy to bees?” Riley asked her.

  She waved her arms in the air. “Who didn’t?” she snapped. “Everyone!”

  “I suppose he posted about it on Facebook and social media?”

  She nodded. “He was deathly afraid of bees. He never wore any aftershave or men’s cologne in case it attracted bees. He never went anywhere without his EpiPen. He always kept away from gardens.”

  “We are very sorry for your loss,” Riley said. “We’ll do our best to track down the man who murdered him and bring him to justice.”

  The woman shot Riley a shrewd look. “You don’t really care about that. You just want to get your hands on that papyrus.”

  “The people who murdered your husband—if those people can track down Goliath’s spear from the papyrus, then they’ll be able to fund terrorist activities which will kill many, many people,” Riley said. “My organization works to stop such items falling into the wrong hands.”

  The woman folded her arms over her chest. “Your government just wants to sell it.”

  Abigail knew she should leave the talking to Riley, but she thought she should now speak. “No, that’s not true,” she said. “I’ve only been working with this organization for a short time, and they have managed to hide items rather than give them to our government to use.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes at Abigail. “And who are you?”

  “I’m a Biblical languages scholar and ancient historian,” Abigail said. “I’m interested in history. I wouldn’t help him if he was going to sell artifacts to the highest bidder.”

  The woman continued to stare at Abigail, and Abigail held her gaze. Finally, she nodded. Abigail took that as encouragement and risked adding something else. “I was hoping your husband had a copy of the papyrus. We need to find Goliath’s spear before the organization who killed your husband does. Otherwise, many lives could be lost.”

  The woman sat with her arms folded for some time, looking out the window. Just as Abigail was beginning to wonder whether the woman had, in fact, heard her, she stood up. “He did have a copy. I’ll fetch it for you.”

  As she left the room, Riley gave Abigail a nod of appreciation. “Good work,” he said quietly.

  While the woman was away, Abigail’s thoughts turned to the papyrus. Would it be a good copy? She hoped it wasn’t a simple photocopy with the words only partly legible.

  Fouad’s wife walked into the room, looking at a large piece of paper. She handed it to Abigail.

  Disappointment hit Abigail as she looked it over. It was an excellent copy, an excellent copy indeed. In fact, it couldn’t have been better. The only trouble was that it was torn down the middle.

  “Where’s the other half?” Abigail asked her, looking up from the brightly colored scene before her.

  “My husband’s business partner probably has the other half.”

  Abigail and Riley exchanged glances. “Your husband had a business partner?” Riley asked her.

  “Not in artifacts,” she said. “My husband was also an investor in perfumes in a store in Khan el-Khalili with Ahmad Khan. He gave him the other part of the copy as a safeguard.”

  Ryan turned to Abigail. “Khan el-Khalili is a famous souq in the center of the old city.” To Fouad’s wife, he said, “Please don’t tell him we’re coming in case your phone is monitored. Would you write the address here? And maybe you could write us a letter of introduction?”

  As she wrote, he said, “It’s best if you leave as soon as you can. I don’t know if the people who killed your husband will come here on the off chance there’s a copy. When do you plan to leave?”

  She shrugged and gestured around the room. “When I finish packing. Maybe next week, but if you think I should, I could go to my sister’s today and send someone to finish packing and fetch everything.”

  Riley popped the papyrus in his backpack. “Do your best to cover your tracks,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll be in danger, but it’s best not to take any chances. And if anyone does ask you about the copy, say you knew nothing about your husband’s business. Tell them he kept it from you.”

  Once in the privacy of the elevator, Riley shot Abigail a look. “I don’t like this. It’s getting more complicated by the minute.”

  Abigail didn’t like the sound of that. Riley was usually cool, calm, and collected. “What if the business associate doesn’t have the other half of the papyrus?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Are you sure you need the other half?”

  “I’m certain.”

  Riley patted Abigail’s shoulder. “Then let’s get it.”

  Abigail arrived at the market a little less shaken than usual after a ride in a Cairo taxi. She didn’t know whether it had been a less exciting ride or whether she was growing accustomed to Cairo traffic. She assumed it was the former.

  “Wow, how big is this place!” she said to Riley after they had been walking for five minutes. This souk was indeed a veritable labyrinth, with sellers calling out to them in Egyptian and English, urging them to buy. It seemed to be a popular place for both tourists and locals. Abigail wished she could stop and look, but she was having enough trouble keeping up with Riley’s long strides. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside a fabric store. “We’re being followed.”

  “Followed?” Abigail echoed. “I didn’t have any idea.” She hadn’t even noticed Riley looking behind him. Her surprise was replaced by fear. What if they were being followed by The Viper, the assassin?

  Riley took Abigail’s arm and guided her into a café. “We’ll sit here and observe for a while,” he said. He guided her to a little alcove and indicated they should sit at a small round table. It seemed to Abigail the table was held together by the aluminium rim. She cast a look around the room to see plenty of people, men and women, smoking from long curled pipes sitting on the ground. “Are those hookahs?” she asked Riley. Abigail had to shout over the waiter yelling orders to make herself heard.

  “They’re shishas,” he said. “Many people in Egypt smoke them.”

  The waiter appeared at the table and Riley ordered hibiscus tea.

  Abigail kept an eye out for anyone following, but the crowds were too thick. She had no idea how Riley could tell. Still, she kept an eye out for a tall man with a hook nose.

  The waiter deposited an enamel teapot in front of them, along with a bowl of sugar and two battered enamel teacups as well as two small glasses from which sprigs of fresh mint overflowed. “This is hibiscus tea,” Riley told her. “It’s a popular drink in these parts.”

  Abigail was desperate to ask if he could see anyone following them, but didn’t like to ask aloud. She never was too sure what she could and couldn’t do for security reasons. Instead, she turned her attention to the large abstract paintings on the wall and the heavily gilded mirrors with arabesque frames. There was a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and just beyond it was a large, stuffed alligator on the wall.

  Once more, she wished she could come here as a tourist instead of someone under threat, possibly under threat from an assassin.

  “Are we going to stay here much longer?” she asked him.

  “It should be safe to move in a moment. Hopefully, we’ve been here for long enough.”

  Soon, Abigail found herself back on the cobbled pavement. She ducked a man calling out, “You buy now?” and bypassed people haggling loudly.

  “Keep your head down and we’ll move quickly,” Riley said. She followed his lead, hurrying along, trying to mingle.

  “It should be here,” Riley said. He guided Abigail into a perfume shop.

  A man approached them, his expression pleased to see customers, but Riley wasted no time coming to the point. “Ahmad Khan? Mrs. Almasi sent us here. She’s sent a letter for you. It’s probably best if we don’t stay out in the open.”

  The man read the letter and then said, “Follow me.” He ushered them into a cramped room at the back of the shop. The smell of tobacco, molasses, apples, and sweat filled the tiny room.

  The man read the letter again before speaking. He shot Riley a look of pure suspicion. “Who are you?”

  Riley showed him his identification. “I’m from an organization that stops ancient artifacts from falling into the hands of terrorist organizations. My associate here is an expert on ancient Egyptian history. She was going to authenticate the papyrus. I was Fouad’s contact.”

  “Fouad’s dead,” the man spat.

  Riley nodded. “Yes, we were supposed to meet him inside The Hanging Church. We were in the courtyard when we heard a woman scream. By the time we reached him, he was dead. I have reason to believe he was killed by a well-known assassin who is now working for Vortex.”

  The man’s nose twitched. “What do they want with the papyrus?” he asked.

  “The spear would be worth millions to a private collector.”

  “You can have it,” the man said. Abigail could see he was trembling. “Will that assassin come after me?”

  “I really don’t know, to be honest,” Riley told him. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more assurances than that. I doubt he would, but if I were you, I would go somewhere else for a few weeks.”

  The man gave a half nod. “Fouad asked me to keep it in the safe for him. I didn’t agree with his illegal activities.”

  He opened the safe and handed the papyrus to Riley. Riley handed to Abigail. “Does this look like it matches the other piece?”

  “I need to see them together to be sure.”

  Riley looked at the man. “May we?” He indicated a small table.

  With a swift move of his hand, the man moved the papers scattered over the table out of the way. Riley laid the two pieces of paper next to each other. It was clear they had been torn from the one sheet.

  “Yes, these match nicely,” Abigail said.

  Before Abigail had the opportunity to look at the new half, Riley snatched some scotch tape from the nearby desk and taped the backs of the pieces together.

  “Could you leave now?” the man said. “It’s not safe for you to stay here any longer. I hope you haven’t led anyone to me.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Riley said. “Maybe you should leave town for a while.”

  The man nodded again. He rubbed his forehead before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his eyes.

  Riley took Abigail by the arm and guided her back into the market.

  As they rounded the corner down by rumbling ruins of a modern building, Abigail started as a man jumped out in front of them. She thought he was a seller until he produced a gun.

  “In there,” he said, opening a door.

  9

  CAIRO

  Abigail looked around the small room in fear. From the pungent fragrance of cinnamon and the orange powder spilling onto the floor through a slight rip in one of the burlap bags, she figured this was a storage room for spices.

  “We have to find a way out,” Riley said urgently. “I don’t think we have much time.” He threw his shoulder against the door, but it didn’t budge.

  Abigail stared at the door. “There’s no lock to pick,” she said with disappointment.

  Riley shook his head. “Whoever locked us in here no doubt is working for Vortex. I think he pushed us into the first vacant place he could find. This store would be barred from the outside, rather than locked. We have to get out before he brings someone back here to deal with us.”

  A cold sweat broke out on Abigail’s body. She hurried around the room, looking for something to help break out of there. She found a large cardboard box with candles inside. If there was something to light them, maybe they could burn their way through a wooden wall. Of course, that would be dangerous. She turned around to speak to Riley and saw he was staring up at a window high up.

  “It’s too small. I wouldn’t be able to squeeze through,” he said.

  Abigail eyed the window thoughtfully. “I could get through it.”

  Riley bit his lip. “It’s worth a try.” He hurried over to collect some spice bags and pushed them against the wall. “Here, you climb up on these and then climb up onto my shoulders. When you’re ready, tell me to boost you up. We’ll need to hurry, Abigail.”

  Abigail was sure Riley meant that whoever was coming would kill them both. She climbed up on the bags of spices faster than she thought she could. Climbing onto Riley’s shoulders was difficult. Finally, with plenty of help from him, she managed. “Now, don’t worry if you fall—I’ll catch you,” Riley called up in reassuring tones. “How far from the window are you?”

  Abigail stretched up as far as she could. “I can’t reach it with my fingertips.”

  Riley had a hold of both her ankles on his shoulders. “Look up very carefully. Do it very slowly. Tell me how far above you the window is.”

  “It’s probably about four or five feet,” she said.

  “Okay, I’m going to help you down. Now, take it slowly.”

  Abigail pushed her hands onto the stone, but just then a beetle ran across her hand. Instinctively, she snatched her hand away and fell backward.

  She braced herself for the fall but landed in Riley’s arms.

  This wasn’t the first time a man had held Abigail in his arms, but it was the first time she’d found herself in Riley’s while in a storeroom. She quickly came to the conclusion that his body was pure muscle beneath his special agent shirts.

  Riley held Abigail close for another minute. “In order for me to boost you to the window, we’ll have to pile up the spice bags quite high.” His voice was a rough whisper in her ear.

  Abigail was expecting Riley to tell her again to hurry and was glad he didn’t. She didn’t want her inevitable doom spelled out to her. She tried to help Riley as much as she could, but she was no match for his strength. She only managed to pull some of the smaller bags of spices over to the pile he was rapidly building. “It’s a pity there isn’t a table or something in here,” she muttered while she worked.

  When Riley stopped stacking the spices, he inspected his work. “We have another problem,” he said. “It’s too far for you to fall, especially face first. I’m hoping there’s something on the other side. This is in a dilapidated section, so there could be stones or bricks, and you might fall too far for safety. If it is too far, I’ll bring you back down, but at least take the papyrus and throw it out the window. We might be able to bargain with whoever is coming if we don’t have the papyrus on us.”

  “Do you think that will work?” Abigail asked him. She rolled up the papyrus and tucked it into the front of her clothes.

  Riley’s jaw set hard. “We’re all out of options now, I’m afraid.”

  Riley climbed onto the pile of spice bags and helped Abigail up onto them. She was alarmed at how unstable they felt. Her heels dug into the squishy spices.