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Supposedly, ancient tomb raiders had stolen a scarab from a small temple in the Valley of the Kings. The temple had been constructed by the legendary female pharaoh, Hatshepsut, and dedicated to Ma’at, the goddess of truth, justice, harmony, balance and cosmic order. For more than a thousand years, Ma’at’s followers had waited for the scarab to reappear. The one who found it—they believed—would be a messenger sent from the goddess herself, heralding the need to restore order to a chaotic world.
Included in the dossier was a digitized photo of a statue now in the Cairo Museum. It depicted Ma’at in lapis lazuli and gold. She was seated on a throne holding an ankh in one hand. A headdress crowned by a towering ostrich feather circled her forehead.
The feather, the ancients believed, was used to weigh the heart of a dead person. If the scales balanced, it meant the deceased had followed Ma’at’s forty-two principles for an orderly existence and his soul would pass into the afterlife. If not, the soul would be devoured by a demon, thus condemning the deceased to a final death.
Heavy stuff for a college librarian from Florida, Ace mused. He spent the last leg of the flight wondering just how the hell Jacqueline Marie Thornton had landed in the middle of a plot to restore Egypt to what some wild-eyed radicals believed was a natural cosmic order.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Jaci?”
Mrs. Grimes hovered a few feet away, facing the hoards of camel drivers who’d descended on their tour group the moment they’d exited their bus on the plateau overlooking the pyramids of Giza.
The late afternoon sun blazed down on the noisy, gesticulating group and made Jaci glad she’d left her lightweight jacket on the bus. She was perfectly dressed for a camel ride in sneakers, loose-fitting slacks and a short-sleeved white blouse with jaunty safari tabs decorating the shoulders and pockets.
One driver proved more vocal and persistent than the others. Shoving his way to the front of the crowd, he practically dragged Jaci to his shaggy mount.
“This way, madam. This way.”
The ends of his green-striped headdress flapped as he steered her toward a beast with a high saddle and a tasseled bridle. The guard from their bus followed them and so did the stalwart Mrs. Grimes. The retired teacher glanced at the other tourists struggling to climb aboard their chosen mounts and reiterated her concerns.
“My guidebook says to be careful,” she worried aloud. “Some of these camel drivers are real rip-off artists.”
Jaci had read that, too, but seeing the pyramids of Giza from the saddle of a camel topped her must-do list. She wasn’t about to forego the experience.
“Here, miss.” Sensing he had his customer on the hook, the doggedly persistent driver dragged off his headdress and plopped it on Jaci’s forehead. “Now you are Bedouin.”
Blinking, she adjusted the lopsided turban. The stained cloth reeked of sweat, human and otherwise. Resolutely, Jaci refused to even think about head lice. This was all part of the thrill of being in Egypt.
The three pyramids looming in the distance only heightened the exhilaration. This was what she’d scrimped and passed up pedicures for! This was what she’d dreamed about even before she’d joined her Thursday night Ancient Civilizations study group.
Eternal Egypt. Land of the pharaohs. Birthplace of a culture older than any other still in existence. Jaci could hardly believe she was finally here, seeing for herself the wonders she’d dreamed about for so long. She couldn’t count the number of books she’d read, the hours of research she’d put into planning this trip.
No book or dry academic treatise could compare with the vibrant reality, however. The dust, the heat, the biting flies, the omnipresent and tenacious souvenir sellers … none of them could dampen her soaring spirits.
“Will you take my picture when I climb aboard?” Still dubious but willing to oblige, Mrs. Grimes accepted the digital camera Jaci fished out of her canvas tote. The silver-haired teacher snapped several pictures while the driver boosted his rider into the saddle. Once Jaci had settled herself comfortably, she grinned and waved at the camera.
Then her camel pushed up on its hind legs.
“Yikes!”
She grabbed the pommel just in time to stop herself from catapulting forward, right over the animal’s head. Her smelly headdress slipped down and covered one eye. She managed to stay in the saddle somehow but came close to tumbling off again when the creature got one front leg under him. Or her. Who could tell?
Swaying from side to side, the ungainly creature rocked up. And up. And up. Jaci looked down, gulping at the distance to the hard-packed dirt, and hung on for dear life. As if mocking her fears, the driver leaped aboard his own mount and brought it to its feet with seemingly liquid grace.
“We shall go to the edge of the plateau, yes?”
She unlocked one hand from the pommel just long enough to push the tail of her borrowed turban out of her eyes.
“Well …”
“You must see the pyramids by themselves. Away from the all these people. To do so is to see Egypt.”
The guidebooks warned about this. Always, always establish a price up front.
“How much?”
“Very cheap, miss.”
“How much?” she insisted.
The driver glanced at Hanif, as if calculating how much he could gouge from a member of the guard’s group.
“Twenty dollars U.S.”
“Done!” Jaci was too excited to haggle. She would have paid twice that for this experience. “Let’s go.”
The driver took her mount’s reins and kicked his own into gear. The animals’ shuffling, rocking gait took some getting used to. Side to side. Forward and back. Feeling like a rag doll strapped into the wooden saddle, Jaci hung on to the pommel with both hands while they descended the sloping plateau.
Then the magic of the pyramids engulfed her. There they were, right in front of her. The great tomb of Cheops, flanked by two lesser pyramids, burial chambers for the king’s wives. They’d been constructed on a windswept stretch of desert many miles from the ancient capital of Memphis.
Egypt’s present capital now formed a dramatic backdrop to these majestic structures. Cairo shimmered in a haze of heat and exhaust fumes just across the Nile, but Jaci had no eyes for the sprawling city. Her fascinated gaze remained locked on the pyramids.
As she and her guide got closer, she could make out the monstrous blocks of stone the builders had positioned one on top of the other. How, she couldn’t imagine. The massive reality of these monuments seemed to make a mockery of every theory her study group had read or researched concerning the tombs’ construction.
She was so enthralled by them that she didn’t realize the camel driver had angled toward the dark green palms lining the river banks.
“Excuse me! Where are you going?”
“You must see the pyramids from the Nile. It is to see them as the ancients saw them.”
“I’d like to, but …” She threw a glance over her shoulder. “I’d better get back to my group.”
“It is not far. Just there.”
Jaci injected a stern note into her voice. “Our tour is on a tight schedule. I need to get back. Turn around, please.”
When the driver ignored her command and kept dragging on her camel’s reins, the light dawned. How stupid was this! How stupid was she! In her excitement and eagerness to view the pyramids from the back of a camel, she’d fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book.
Thoroughly disgusted with herself, she called out to him. “I get it now. Twenty dollars to approach the pyramids. How much to take me back?”
The driver kept going.
Okay, now she was pissed—and just a tad nervous.
“Hey! You! How much to go back?”
When he didn’t respond, she bit down on her lower lip. This had ceased to be fun. Fighting to hang on to both her balance and her composure, she angled around and stabbed a finger repeatedly toward her group.
“Back! Take me back.”
To her profound relief, she saw Hanif break away from the cluster of tourists and lope down the plateau in her direction. No, not Hanif. Another guard, this one in jeans and a lightweight sport coat.
He moved fast, thank goodness! Within minutes, he was close enough to shout something.
Startled, the driver twisted around in his saddle. When he spotted their pursuer, he muttered what sounded very much like a curse. Producing a short, braided whip from the folds of his robe he slashed the neck of his camel while yanking on the reins of Jaci’s.
Her mount brayed and made an awkward lunge.
Jaci yelped and tumbled sideways.
Chapter 2
Talk about timing!
The moment Ace had cleared security at the Cairo airport, he’d contacted Kahil. As promised, his friend had obtained an updated itinerary from the local agency handling the tour for the University of Florida group. Ace had jumped in a rental car and arrived at the most touristy of all locales—the camel circus on the plateau above the Giza pyramids—just in time to spot his target lumbering off.
He’d hung back, mingling with the crowd while he observed this supposed messenger from Ma’at. It didn’t take him long to decide the goddess had to be pretty hard up for emissaries. Jacqueline Marie Thornton looked just short of ridiculous with a greasy headdress tilted over one eye and an overstuffed canvas tote thumping against a hip while she bobbed along.
“Oh, dear.”
That came from a smallish woman wearing a visor decorated with a University of Florida Gator. She was standing a few yards away, her worried gaze on the camels.
“I hope Jaci doesn’t go too far,” she said to another member of her group. “The tour leader warned us about these drivers.”
With good reason. Ace had spent enough time in Egypt to know these guys had a real racket going here. They dressed like Bedouins, but most had never trekked across a desert. They also raked in so much from the hordes of tourists that many sported Rolexes and Air Nikes under their robes. Even the tourist police on their distinctive white camels rubbed their fingers together, demanding payment for every digital photo snapped by a gawking visitor. More money probably changed hands here at the pyramids than anywhere else in Egypt. And from the looks of it, his target was just about to be taken for double the usual fee.
She knew it, too. She’d contorted in the saddle and was pointing repeatedly toward the buses. The incipient panic on her face elicited a twitter of dismay from her older traveling companion.
“Hanif!” The woman turned to an Egyptian in a cheap green suit ringed with sweat at the armpits. “Jaci wants to come back. Do something!”
The man—a guard assigned to the group, judging by the weapon bulging the back flap of his suit coat—cast a glance at the duo.
“Do not worry. They will return.”
Ace hid a predatory smile. Perfect! He’d just been handed the ideal opportunity. His instructions were to get close to the target. What better way to win her trust than to rescue her from an unscrupulous camel driver?
He took off at an easy lope. Luckily, the sand on the plateau had been packed hard by centuries of tourists and plodding camels. Ace barely broke a sweat before he got within shouting distance.
“Stop, you son of a flea-bitten dog!”
It was one of the more useful Arabic phrases he’d learned from Kahil. Very handy when dealing with pickpockets and Cairo’s suicidal taxi drivers.
The driver jerked around and cursed. Ace bit out an oath of his own when the man lashed his beast with a whip. The lead camel stretched his neck and broke into a hump-rolling gallop. When the second beast did the same, its rider shrieked and toppled sideways.
Christ! The woman was going to fall right out of the saddle!
Ace sprinted the last three yards and caught her just as she tumbled to the ground. He broke her fall, but she took him down with her. Grunting, they hit the sand and sprawled there, hips and legs tangled, while the driver and his camels galloped off.
“I … uh …”
Scrambling for purchase, the target dug an elbow into Ace’s sternum. She levered up, then used her free hand to shove back the rankest turban he’d ever smelled.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I will be.” Manfully, he repressed a grimace. “As soon as you remove your elbow.”
“Huh? Oh!”
She squirmed, digging the bony joint in deeper.
“Sorry.”
Her face brick-red, she wiggled off him. She managed to mash her breasts into his chest in the process. The connoisseur in Ace didn’t fail to note they were as lush and ripe as her lips even as the undercover operative took full advantage of her obvious embarrassment.
“No problem.” He rolled to his feet and held out a hand. “Here. Let me help you up.”
“Thanks. I … ouch!”
Her leg folding, she almost went down again. Ace kept a grip on her hand and slid his other arm around her waist.
“Your ankle?”
“My knee. I banged it coming down.” Biting her lip, she took a tentative step. “It’s not bad. Just a little …”
When she broke off, wincing, Ace almost didn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t have scripted a better scenario.
“Better let me carry you back to your bus.”
“No, really. I’m okay.”
Ignoring her protest, he scooped her into his arms. The foul-smelling turban fell off, thank God. They left it in the dirt and started up the slope.
“I’m Jaci.” Self-consciously, she hooked an arm around his neck. “Jaci Thornton.”
“Deke Griffin.”
“You’re an American.”
It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded anyway. “Yep.”
“Are you on a tour, too?”
“Business.” His civilian occupation provided the perfect cover. “I flew over to do some consulting. Just got in today and decided to stop by the pyramids on my way into town.”
She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m certainly glad you did.”
Whoa! The woman’s passport photo hadn’t done her justice. Ace could see himself in her eyes. The irises were greener than they’d appeared in the photo, almost as deep and verdant as the palms lining the Nile. Her shy smile and the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose gave her a kind of girl-next-door appeal.
Definitely not his style. Aside from the fact she was his target and therefore off-limits, Ace went for less wholesome types. But he had to admit she made for a nice armful. Firm thighs, slender hips, narrow waist. The behind pressing against him wasn’t bad, either. Not bad at all.
