The Mummy's Curse

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Now try mine!” Ahmed said. “I happen to have some here. I packed my own lunch—you must try it and see!”

  He offered some to Sam. She seemed not to want to taste something that looked exactly like the stuff she’d just spat out.

  “Please, just try it!” Ahmed urged.

  “This is an outrage!” said Dr. Mounir, his face going red. “I have eaten Salim’s cooking for years, and it is always the best!”

  “Mmmmm!” Sam said, tasting Ahmed’s hummus. “This is delicious—it’s amazing! What a difference!”

  “I swear, mine tasted fine this morning!” Salim protested, but it was too late.

  “You’re fired, dude,” Tommy told him.

  “Excuse me,” Dr. Mounir interrupted. “But we have just agreed—”

  “Too bad,” Tommy told him. “Sam’s still the boss of this expedition, and if she likes the Happy Hippie’s cooking, that’s who we’re hiring.”

  Still grumbling, Salim grabbed his sack and stormed off down the street. Ahmed, now a truly happy hippie, shook Tommy’s and Sam’s hands. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing over and over again. “You will not be sorry, I promise you.” Tommy gave Ahmed some money, they talked for a bit, and Ahmed took off—I guessed to buy some groceries.

  “I’m already sorry,” I said to Frank. “Did you see the stunt that guy just pulled?”

  “I did,” Frank said.

  “Maybe we should have blown the whistle on him?”

  “What, and eat that other guy’s food? At least we know Ahmed’s is good. And hey, at least it wasn’t poison. Must have been something like baking powder.” He paused for a second, then said, “Samantha would be dead by now.”

  “You got that right,” I said. “What a relief! If it had been poison …”

  “Well,” Frank said, “next time, we’ll just have to react quicker.”

  “If there is a next time.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. There will be.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I don’t know,” Frank said. “But there’s a whole lot of treasure at stake here, not to mention national pride, and maybe even something supernatural. I’m betting this trip we’re about to take is going to be dangerous with a capital D.”

  Late that afternoon, when the extreme heat of the day was past and Ahmed had returned with boxes full of groceries for our trip, our caravan set off westward into the great Sahara desert. We rode on camels (and boy, are they ever a bumpy ride!). My rear end was hurting after the first fifteen minutes, so I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of being on camelback for days and days.

  The guides and porters were riding two to a camel, while the rest of us each had our own ride.

  Each camel also carried saddlebags full of food, water, and gear. They are strong beasts, let me tell you, and they almost never need water. I don’t know how they do it. I was hitting the water bottle every ten minutes or so. Even this late in the day, the temperature had to be over ninety degrees.

  “We need to get closer to Sam,” said Frank as we rode side by side. “Otherwise, we won’t be able to stop the next attempt on her life.”

  We spurred our camels and caught up to Sam. Frank asked, “Ms. Chilton, do you think we could do an interview with you while we ride?”

  “Oh, sure thing!” she said, giving us a smile that nearly made me fall off my camel. Man, was she gorgeous!

  “Do you want to tape it? I can get Theo to set up a handheld camera and some mikes….”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Frank said.

  “And could we, you know … talk to you in private?” I added.

  She gave us a puzzled look “In private? What for?”

  “Well,” I explained, “you know … you might want to share some … intimate details for our readers. Stuff that not everybody needs to hear, especially before the article gets published.”

  “Oh, I get it!” she said. “You’re afraid of being scooped!”

  “Right!” I said.

  “But there aren’t any other reporters around here.”

  “You never know,” I told her, indicating our companions. “Any magazine can hire someone and pay them to get information.”

  “So why should I trust you?”

  I was suddenly speechless. Thank goodness Frank came to my rescue.

  “We found that gauze wrapping last night, didn’t we?” he pointed out. “That should prove to you that we’re on your side. Besides, look at that face,” he said, meaning mine. “Is that the face of a liar?”

  It was, actually—I mean, I was here pretending to be a reporter. I’d never even written for the Bayport High School Gazette!

  But Samantha seemed to think my face was innocent enough. “Okay,” she said. “Public or private, what do I care? Everybody knows everything about me anyway.”

  Well, not exactly, I thought. But we were going to do our best to find out.

  We dropped back behind the rest of the party, out of hearing distance.

  “So,” Sam said, “what do you want to know?”

  “Well, first of all,” I said, “tell us about you and Tommy. How did you meet? Weren’t you with someone else just a month ago?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “I really loved Roger too. But he kind of blew me off—told me to get lost and not call him for a while. And he was acting all nervous, but he wouldn’t share his feelings with me. Typical man, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said, just to keep her going.

  “He did share something else with you, though, didn’t he?” Frank asked.

  “How’d you know that?” Sam squinted at him—the setting sun was shining right in our faces, but that wasn’t why. She was suspicious of us, and that was not a good thing.

  “How did we know that? We’re reporters!” Frank explained. “It’s our job to find out things. That’s how we know about the map.”

  Sam gasped, and her eyes widened. “How did you know that? I never told anyone about that! Well, except for Tommy … and my mother … and maybe one or two other people. I forget … no, no—I’m sure that was it.”

  “Do you still have the map?” I asked.

  “Of course I do!” she said, giving me a sly smile. “Do you think we’d still be going on this trip if that mummy had taken the map from my cabin?”

  “So the intruder didn’t find the map?” Frank asked.

  “No—because it wasn’t in the cabin,” she said, pleased with herself. “I keep it on me at all times, see. That way, nobody can take it without me knowing.”

  “That doesn’t guarantee they won’t try,” I pointed out.

  “Let them,” she said. “I’m not scared. Tommy can protect me.”

  Frank cleared his throat. “About Tommy,” he said. “How long have you known the guy?”

  “Oh, a long time,” she said. “Almost three weeks.”

  “Three weeks!” I exclaimed. “How do you know you can trust him?”

  “My first impressions of people are always right,” she said.

  “Really?” I asked. “Um, and what’s your first impression of … me, say?”

  She looked me up and down, smiling. “You’re really cute,” she said.

  I lost my balance and nearly fell backward off my camel. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Ms. Chilton,” Frank interrupted, “I hate to say this, but Joe and I think you may be in great danger.”

  “Me? Why?” she said, forgetting all about how cute I was. Sometimes I could just kill Frank.

  “The map,” he reminded her.

  “Oh. Right,” she said. “But Dr. Mounir’s here with us, and all his men—so the Egyptian government can protect me.”

  “Uh, well, sort of,” I put in. “Except there are some people who seem to think Dr. Mounir’s not altogether … honest.”

  “You mean Dr. Volsky?” Sam said, waving a hand in the air. “Oh, don’t pay any attention to him. Igor’s just jealous. He wishes he had a big
government job like Dr. Mounir’s.”

  “That might be true,” I said. “But it doesn’t mean he isn’t right about Mounir. After all, whoever wants that map has already killed once to get it.”

  “What?”

  That got her attention.

  “Who? Who’s been killed?”

  Q had been right. How had she not heard the news? Maybe it was because she was traveling—or maybe she wasn’t that into learning about world events.

  Frank cleared his throat again. “I’m afraid I have bad news, Ms. Chilton. Roger Corson was murdered the night after you left London. A man—or woman—dressed as a mummy was seen fleeing the apartment.”

  Now it was Sam’s turn to lose her balance. “Oh, my … ,” she whispered. “And last night—that mummy in my cabin …!”

  “You’re lucky to be alive, Ms. Chilton,” Frank said.

  “Poor Roger! And I thought he didn’t call me in Rome because he didn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore!”

  She was crying now, the tears making tracks down her beautiful cheeks.

  “I’m sure he cared about you a whole lot,” Frank said. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given you the map of the Golden Mummy’s tomb.”

  “That’s t-true,” she said, still crying. “He did say it was very important, and not to tell anyone. But when I didn’t hear from him, I decided he was a total jerk, and that I’d go dig up the tomb myself. Now I feel just awful!”

  “Tell us more about Tommy. How did you meet him?”

  “It was at a club—Nightspot on the Nile. We were introduced, and it was, like, love at first sight. And when I told him I was going to go on this expedition, he said he was coming too, and that was that!”

  “So you don’t know a thing about him, really,” I said.

  “That’s not true. I know he was Mr. Universe a few years ago.”

  “And what else?” I asked.

  “Um … listen, he’s a very nice person, and I trust him totally,” she insisted. “To-tal-ly.”

  “Okay, okay,” Frank said. “But it’s still important for you to be careful. Somebody on this expedition wants that map of yours badly enough to kill for it. Like my brother told you, they’ve already killed once to get it.”

  Sam put her hand to her chest, taking it all in. Then she took a deep breath and stuck her chin out bravely. “I’m not backing down,” she said. “For poor Roger’s sake, I’m going to find this treasure and give it all to the Egyptian people. That’s what he would have wanted. And if anyone tries to stop me—well, just let them try!”

  I had to hand it to her—she was brave. But that alone was not going to be enough to keep Sam Chilton alive.

  “May I make a suggestion?” Frank asked. “Tonight, when you go to sleep, have Theo and his crew set up a closed-circuit camera outside your tent. That way, if anyone tries any monkey business, we’ll catch them in the act.”

  “Good idea,” she said. “I’ll do that.” She thought for a minute. “You guys are really reporters?”

  “Beautiful People magazine,” I said. “Yup—we’re the real deal.”

  “Huh. You’re not like any reporters I’ve ever met. You guys are so much more together.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Ms. Chilton,” Frank said, “when all this is over, we’ll write your story for all the world to hear. But first, we need you to come through this expedition alive. From here on in, just remember—you’re in great danger, every minute of the day or night. Especially the night.”

  Sam nodded her head slowly. “I’ll remember that,” she said. “Thanks.” Then she spurred her camel and took off in pursuit of the others.

  “That was a great idea about the video link,” I said. “But do you really think that’ll stop whoever it is from trying to steal the map?”

  “No way,” Frank admitted. “But at least we’ll get them on tape. They’ll have one more try at Sam, and that will be their last chance.”

  “Right,” I said. “And we’ll be ready for them too.”

  7 Night of the Dead

  We didn’t make camp until well after sunset. The first stars were coming out over the desert, and the mountains of sand were fading into blackness.

  Dr. Mounir’s handpicked crew of men went to work, pitching tents and building a fire, while the rest of us pretty well collapsed from exhaustion. We found comfortable spots to sit under the palm trees surrounding the small water hole where we’d stopped for the night.

  Samantha went over to talk to Theo. I guessed she was asking him to set up the closed-circuit camera we’d advised. He nodded his head, looking serious, then went rummaging through his metal equipment boxes to find all the necessary stuff.

  Meanwhile, Dr. Mounir was munching on a bunch of dates his men had picked off a palm tree for him, and telling stories to whoever would listen—namely Leila, Nels, Jurgen, Dr. Volsky, and Ahmed the Happy Hippie, who was also busy getting everyone’s dinner ready.

  “It wasn’t just Tutankhamen’s tomb,” Mounir was saying. “After Amenhotep IV’s tomb was violated, all the members of the expedition died—horrible, unexplainable deaths, one after the other.”

  “That doesn’t mean there was a mummy’s curse,” Dr. Volsky protested.

  “And it doesn’t mean there wasn’t,” Mounir shot back. “Am I not correct, Leila?”

  Leila looked down at the ground. It was impossible to know what she thought about anything, but I could see that she was uncomfortable being asked to speak in front of such famous company. “Whatever you say, Doctor,” she mumbled.

  “There, you see? She agrees with me!” Mounir bellowed, slapping his knee for emphasis and eating another big mouthful of dates.

  “It’s all hogwash,” Dr. Volsky insisted. “You’re supposed to be a scientist, Mounir, so be scientific! Once you die, you stay dead—you don’t come back to life and kill people. If those explorers died violently, it must have been at the hands of someone living, not dead.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Nels spoke up. “I’m getting the willies just thinking about it.”

  “Me too,” Jurgen agreed. “Can’t we change the subject?”

  “I wish it were that simple,” Dr. Mounir said with a sigh. “But here we all are, ready to repeat the same mistakes that cost those explorers their lives.”

  “Well, what are we supposed to do?” Tommy asked. “Turn back now, after we’ve come this far?”

  “It is not too late,” Dr. Mounir said seriously. “In the interests of science, I will go forward alone, with my men and with my trusted assistant.”

  He put a hand on Leila’s shoulder, and I saw her stiffen. “We will discover what is there, and we will leave it in place, respecting the dead and our glorious history.”

  “No way,” Tommy said. “If it weren’t for Sam, you wouldn’t even know this stupid tomb had been discovered. You’re just lucky she’s already rich and doesn’t care about keeping all the treasure for herself”

  The air was thick with tension until Ahmed clapped his hands, and everybody nearly jumped three feet in the air.

  “The mummy says ‘fill your tummy’!” he announced. Everyone started laughing at him, and just like that, the tension was broken.

  Ahmed pranced around, imitating a mummy—he looked more like a clown, really—and then proceeded to serve us the most delicious meal Joe and I’d had so far in Egypt: lamb cubes roasted over an open fire, with hummus and marinated salad on the side.

  The stars came out in their trillions—the most I’d ever seen—and pretty soon we were all feeling much, much better.

  Everyone was tired to the bone. Even Samantha, who always seemed to have more energy than anybody else, was yawning. It was time to turn in for the night.

  Danger time.

  The tents had all been pitched in a circle. I noticed that while Joe and I shared a tent, Samantha had her own. So did Tommy. His was placed next to hers, with Leila’s on the other side.

  Theo had placed his camera on t
op of Samantha’s tent pole, cleverly disguised under a piece of canvas. I hadn’t noticed him putting it up there in the dark, and I was pretty sure no one else had either.

  The camera would provide a perfect view of the opening of Samantha’s tent. If anyone tried anything funny, like they had on the boat, the camera would definitely catch them in the act.

  I was pleased that I’d thought of the idea. Our job here was to keep Sam Chilton alive and well, but there was no way we could guard her twentyfour hours a day. All human beings need sleep, including us.

  In fact, it didn’t take fifteen minutes in his sleeping bag before Joe was snoring away. As for me, I tried to get to sleep, but it was impossible, what with my brother sawing wood like that.

  I was just about to get out of my sleeping bag and give him a good shake when I saw a human figure standing at the opening of our tent.

  I reached into my pocket, pulled out my flashlight, and shone it on the intruder.

  It was Leila!

  She put a hand over her eyes to shield her from the blinding light.

  I switched it off and went over to her. “What’s the matter?”

  “I …” She glanced over at Joe, who was still snoring away. “Can we talk?”

  “Uh, sure!” I said softly. Taking her arm, I led her outside and let the tent flap fall closed behind me. “What’s up?”

  “I must talk to someone, and—I don’t know why, but … well … I feel as though, somehow, I can trust you.”

  “Oh, you can!” I assured her. At the same time, I wondered why she’d picked me.

  “You’re not like the others, I can tell,” she whispered, taking my hand in both of hers.

  That’s when I saw that her hands were all tattooed. Funny, I hadn’t noticed it before.

  She saw me staring at the dark red designs—swirling patterns that reminded me of spiderwebs. “It’s henna,” she explained. “A natural dye—it comes off after a few weeks. Egyptian women, especially here in the desert, use it for special occasions, to decorate themselves.”

  “What’s the occasion?” I asked, curious.

  “We are about to enter the presence of a great king,” she said. She ran one finger of her right hand up and down the lines of the pattern on her left. “In honor of him, and of our glorious Egyptian history, I beautify myself.”