Sands of Time (Out of Time #6)

by Monique Martin

  “And he was a pharaoh of the New Kingdom,” Christina supplied.

  Elizabeth plopped down into the nearest chair and chewed the inside of her lip. That sounded logical enough, but what did the watch have to do with it? What did they have to do with it?

  Whiteside tucked his glasses into his pocket. “Perhaps we’ll find something else to help us be sure.”

  Simon pushed out a breath and paced to the far side of the room. He stopped, pivoted and looked at Elizabeth. “There is something else,” he said and looked to Jack and Elizabeth for permission. “The letter?”

  She nodded and Jack did the same. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  “It’s probably nothing,” Simon continued, “but there was a note. It could be unrelated but…it said, ‘Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun.’“

  Christina chewed on her thumbnail in thought. “Richard III.”

  “Yes,” Simon said. “Other than in this case, ironic, references to the glory of a king and the sun, of course, that’s a play on words though…”

  Christina looked up at him, a thoughtful scowl on her face. “He was a hunchback, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, in the play, he was,” Simon said. “‘Deformed, unfinished, sent before his time into this breathing world, scarce half made up.’“

  A slow broad smile stretched across Christina’s face and she turned to her father.

  Whiteside laughed. “Very good, my dear.”

  Elizabeth felt that prickle of excitement again. “What?”

  Whiteside stood to his full height, like a professor at his podium. “There was a pharaoh not unlike our dear King Richard. Deformed, a hunchback by many accounts, cast as the villain by history. And he reigned during the New Kingdom. In fact, he was the son of Amenhotep.”

  “Akhenaten,” Christina supplied.

  “It all fits,” Whiteside said. “The sun disk in his hand, the description of the Aten, I’m certain of it.”

  He tapped the scarf. “It must be Akhenaten.”

  Elizabeth felt the shiver of the joy of discovery run through her body. She looked at Simon and then Jack. Both wore the same exhilarated expression, triumph and relief.

  Whiteside shook his head and looked back at the sketch of the papyrus and the scarf. “Fascinating.”

  “And lucky,” Christina added. “We just happen to know one of the foremost experts on that particular pharaoh.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Henri held out his hand for Elizabeth as she boarded the steamer. “I am so pleased you could join us on our little adventure.”

  He helped her off the boarding plank and onto the ship’s deck. Casting a glance over her shoulder at Simon, he smiled. “Both of you, of course.”

  Simon smiled tightly and inclined his head.

  This was going to be an adventure all right, Elizabeth thought. Simon and Henri in close quarters for a four day cruise up the Nile. As Henri’s eyes lingered on her, she wondered if Simon’s suggestion of taking the train and meeting them in Luxor might not have been the better one.

  “Arthur!” Henri said, turning his attention to more of his guests.

  Although, Elizabeth had to admit, she was looking forward to the cruise. Henri had chartered one of Cook’s finer ships and arranged the entire journey. What would normally be a cruise of several weeks, he’d cut down to just four days. They would sail with only a few stops along the way. It wasn’t the usual tourist pilgrimage up the Nile, but far more pleasant than the train.

  They’d get to relax a little, see some of the country and hopefully leave the Cult of Sekhmet back in Cairo. Not to mention they needed to stay in Henri’s good graces. The last thing they needed was for him to kick them out of his inner circle. Without Henri, they wouldn’t have a chance at getting into Akhenaten’s tomb, and finding the watch they hoped was inside it.

  The clues weren’t exactly ironclad evidence, but it all made sense. It certainly explained why Mason had befriended this particular group of people and ingratiated himself with Henri. After all, if they’d been off course, those pesky cult members wouldn’t keep showing up. All signs pointed to Henri’s dig in the Valley of the Kings and that’s where they had to go.

  She glanced over at Simon. The marks had faded from his neck, leaving only faint bruises, but the memory of seeing that man trying to kill him had not. She shivered and Simon looked down at her in concern.

  “Just a tickle,” she said vaguely and took off her sun hat, and began fanning herself with it. So far, the weather had been very mild, but today felt like it was shaping up to be a scorcher.

  She and Simon stood on the deck as Henri greeted the Whitesides and Jack and Diana.

  “Parfait!” he said. “Everyone is here.”

  He waved to one of the crew who hurried down the plank to finish seeing to the stowing of the piles of luggage still resting on the shore.

  “The stewards will see you all to your cabins,” Henri said with a pleased smile. “I hope you will find the accommodations to your liking. In an hour, please join me on the upper deck for a toast to our voyage?”

  Several stewards in crisp white robes ushered the group toward their rooms on the upper deck. Instead of the two-sailed dahabeah most wealthy travelers hired to explore the Nile, Henri had chartered a small steamer. It was a bit like a miniature cruise ship. Long broad promenade areas with large, white-cushioned chaise lounges, and small clusters of rattan tables and chairs lined nearly the full 200 foot length of the ship.

  After having left the rest of the group at their cabins, Simon and Elizabeth finally reached theirs at the rear of the upper deck.

  “Wow,” Elizabeth said. The suite was incredible. Complete with a sitting area and vanity, it was larger than any of the other cabins they’d passed on the way. The dark mahogany panelling and varnished oak floors might have made the room feel dark if it weren’t for the enormous, panoramic bay windows that gave them the perfect view of the Nile.

  “Was awfully kind of Henri to give us this and on such short notice too,” she said.

  Simon humphed and tossed his hat onto the vanity. What could he possibly find wrong with this?

  He glared at the two twin brass beds separated by a nightstand. “Yes, very thoughtful.”

  While most of the other suites did have queen size beds, she was sure it was merely coincidence and not some plan to keep them apart. She slipped her arms around Simon’s waist.

  His expression softened as he looked down at her. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “If he thinks that’s going to stop me, he’s more of a fool than I thought.”

  Elizabeth smiled and kissed him. “Something to look forward to.” She started to slip away, but Simon held her to him.

  “We have an hour,” he suggested.

  Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. “Later. I promised Christina I’d meet her on deck.”

  Simon sighed and let her go. “All right. In that case, I suppose I should go introduce myself to the captain and meet the crew.”

  Which was code for “make sure none of them are cult members.”

  “I’ll meet you later then,” she said.

  Simon picked up his hat and took one step toward the door before turning back.

  “I’ll be careful,” she said, before he could remind her.

  “Good.” He put on his fedora and pulled the brim down. He nodded toward the beds, a sly smile on his lips. “Until later.”

  A thrill ran through her at his silent promise and she smiled. Score one for the cruise.

  ~ ~ ~

  Simon sipped his champagne and leaned back in his chair, watching as Elizabeth, and Jack and Diana chatted with each other around their small table. Jouvet had toasted them all and welcomed them to his adventure, as he put it. He was jovial and a consummate host, and completely irritating. His gaze always lingered a little too long on Elizabeth, and he offered her all too frequent, what Simon supposed were, charming smiles.

  Simon n
arrowed his eyes and kept a close watch on the smug Frenchman. He seemed to delight in finding ways to spend his benefactor’s money. A luxury cruise for a dozen of his closest friends was pushing the edge of decency though.

  If Simon hadn’t known any better, he’d almost think Jouvet was stalling the opening of the chamber at his dig. Maybe he was. He seemed to spend more time in Cairo than on-site and had planned a four-day luxury party instead of overseeing his work. He didn’t seem at all enthusiastic about it, beyond a bit of showmanship for the crowd. He was competent enough, Simon supposed. Christina hadn’t been overstating it when she said he was an expert on Akhenaten, but for some reason he didn’t seem to be actually looking forward to getting to Luxor and opening the chamber. It was puzzling.

  “More?” Simon asked as he lifted a champagne bottle from its silver ice bucket.

  Elizabeth shook her head. It was just as well. Between the champagne and the heat she was looking very sleepy. One more, and she might just slide under the table.

  Not that he could have blamed her. Even without the drink, the atmosphere was rather peaceful and hypnotic.

  Even under the shade of the tarpaulin on the upper deck, the sun was strong. The smooth water of the Nile slipped beneath them. If it weren’t for the slight hum of the deck from the engines and the churning sound of the paddlewheel, Simon would have thought they were standing still and the shore was moving.

  The occasional wooden feluccas with their pointed, triangular arching sails moved past them up the river just as they had for thousands of years. The mud villages and bits of ruin along the shore felt as timeless as the Nile itself.

  He rarely gave into thoughts of a spiritual nature, but this experience was surprisingly so. Or it was until Trevor Everett started driving golf balls from the stern of the ship.

  “Dammit! Another slice.”

  “Idiot,” Simon grumbled between sips.

  “Maybe he’ll fall in,” Diana suggested.

  Simon grinned. He liked Diana. What was not to like? She was smart, funny, independent. A good match for Jack. A good temporary match. After the unfortunate Betty disaster in Hollywood, Simon hoped to God Jack had learned his lesson. He didn’t think the three of them could survive another three-month funk. He’d been content to let the man lick his wounds in peace, but Elizabeth had worried.

  Jack had promised he was fine when he wasn’t, and Simon told her to mind her own business and she hadn’t. Eventually, Jack had climbed out of his depression and they’d seen the spark of the man they’d met in London.

  As if Jack heard Simon’s thoughts, he turned and caught his eye. Jack smiled, happy, thankful, and then he winked and gave a dramatic stretch. “Well, I think I’m gonna take a nap before dinner.”

  He excused himself and unsurprisingly Diana followed a few minutes later. Lucky bastard. Simon was about to suggest he and Elizabeth do the same when Whiteside and Christina appeared.

  Simon sighed, but stood and invited them to join his table. Later would have to wait until later.

  The rest of the afternoon and evening passed by quietly and inconspicuously. Simon enjoyed the respite. Not that he let himself completely relax, not here, not ever. However, sharing fine meals and finer brandy aboard a luxury ship moving slowly up the Nile wasn’t the worst mission they’d ever had, as long as the men that plagued them had stayed behind in Cairo.

  After an excellent dinner of roast lamb, the group retired to the salon and, naturally, Elizabeth found herself a poker game to join.

  “You must be cheating somehow,” Trevor Everett said as Elizabeth raked in another impressive stack of chips. “No woman is that good a poker player.”

  Simon laughed, too happy and, perhaps a little too tipsy to bother taking umbrage at Everett’s absurd insults.

  Elizabeth smiled and happily stacked her chips, most of which had belonged to Everett at the start of the game. “I’m really not that good. You’re just that bad.”

  Offended, Everett stuck his cigarette into his mouth and pushed away from the table. Simon barely remembered to suppress his laughter as the man walked away. God, how he loved his wife.

  Jouvet, who’d been standing watching the game unfold, gestured to the empty seat. “May I?”

  Elizabeth shrugged and shuffled the cards ending with a long cascading flourish.

  Jouvet grinned. “You have many talents.”

  Simon turned away. He’d be certain to lose his good mood if he watched Jouvet attempt to seduce his wife all night. He was feeling too good to let that damn Frenchman ruin it.

  Simon sipped his scotch and looked for something else to occupy his attention. Everett’s wife and a woman whose name he couldn’t remember were deep in conversation, no doubt something important like the value of their portfolios or the ghastly spring ball at Highclere last season. Whiteside spoke animatedly to an American merchant named Sanford who’d made his fortune selling women’s brassieres. Jack and Diana danced haphazardly to the ragtime jazz coming from a Victrola in the corner. The rest of the passengers had either retired or were busy being fleeced by Elizabeth. That left only Christina.

  She sat alone in the corner, glum, on the periphery, watching the rest of them enjoying the party. The book she’d been reading lay forgotten on her lap.

  He felt for the girl. She was bright and engaging, or would be, if she weren’t busy nursing a broken heart.

  A little voice inside his head, that sounded remarkably like Elizabeth, urged him to go to her. Despite feeling unsure what he could possibly do to help the girl, Simon lifted himself from the comfort of his leather club chair and walked the short distance across the room.

  “May I join you?”

  Startled, Christina looked up at him and then lowered her eyes as if she’d been caught doing something she oughtn’t. “Of course.”

  Simon sat down in the chair next to hers. “The Mill on the Floss,” he said nodding toward her forgotten book. “I think I preferred Silas Marner.”

  “You’ve read them?”

  “I used to read quite a lot,” Simon said. “I find that I don’t have quite so much time for it anymore.” He carefully left out the reason for that as his eyes drifted to her across the room, as she dealt the next hand.

  “Sometimes I think I’d be happier if I could live in a book.”

  Simon nodded. “I spent a great deal of my youth doing just that. I could control the world just by turning the page.”

  Christina looked at him with empathy. “Yes,” she said and pushed her glasses back up onto her nose. “Exactly.” She folded her hands and studied them. “Everything else is so unpredictable.”

  That was an understatement. “Eventually,” Simon said, “you’ll find that’s what makes it all worthwhile.”

  She nodded politely, but looked far from convinced.

  Simon hesitated only a moment before letting his guard down. Perhaps he could say something to cheer her up. “When I was sixteen, I fell madly in love with a girl in Sussex. She had fiery red hair. It was a glorious summer; we spent every moment together until she tore out my heart and crushed it like a walnut.”

  Christina laughed and then covered her mouth and apologized, but he could still see the slight humor in her eyes.

  “I thought I’d never get over her,” he said, “but another summer came and another. And eventually I found Elizabeth.” He failed to mention the twenty lonely years in between.

  Christina looked over at the poker table. Elizabeth held up her cards to cover a smile. Her eyes flashed and she said something that elicited whoops of laughter from the table.

  “Now, I can’t even remember that girl’s name.”

  Christina ran her fingers over the leather bound edges of the book in her lap as she thought about what he said.

  “It might not seem so now,” Simon continued. “But the hurt will fade.”

  She nodded quickly and worried her lower lip.

  “You’re a lovely, bright girl, Christina. I think, if anything,
you’ll be spoilt for choice before long.”

  She blushed and shook her head, but a small smile curved her lips.

  “Christina,” Jack said suddenly appearing in front of them. “Just the girl I was looking for.” He jerked his head toward the impromptu dance floor. “Diana’s given up on me. How about a go?”

  He held out his hand and Christina looked at it unsure. Simon gave her an encouraging nod and she took it.

  “He’s got two left feet,” Simon called after them. “Don’t let him trample you.”

  Quite satisfied with himself, Simon finished his scotch and set the empty glass on a table. He watched Jack and Christina for a moment before stepping outside to get some air.

  He walked toward the bow to a quiet spot away from the music and the mayhem of the salon. The sound of the boat as it cut through the water was soothing and entrancing and Simon enjoyed the solitude for a few minutes, watching the distant shore slide past in the night.

  He felt Elizabeth’s approach before he heard her footsteps on the wooden deck. It was strange and wonderful, this connection to someone—this subtle sense of her, a gentle hum in his soul.

  “There you are,” she said.

  Simon smiled to himself. He could see her in his mind’s eye, standing behind him, wearing that dress, the diaphanous fabric flowing in the slight evening breeze. Waves of auburn hair falling about her face and caressing her bare shoulders. The curious look on her face that he would kiss away.

  He turned and watched her walk toward him. She stopped in front of him and tilted her head to the side. The flush in her cheeks ran down her neck into the décolletage of her dress and Simon’s eyes followed it.

  She smiled then and leaned forward against the railing and took a deep breath of the cool night air. The breeze moulded her dress to her body and Simon stood for a moment content to appreciate the shape of her calves, the curve of her back, the supple skin of her shoulders.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.

  The evening, he had to admit, was beautiful, too. The sky was clear and the moon shone brightly, reflecting in the glassy surface of the river. Palm trees stood in silhouette on the shores as they slipped silently by and into the night. But it all paled next to his wife.