Diedrich kicked at the crushed stone, and a few pebbles scurried across the path and plunked into the reflecting pool, spreading soft rings in the smooth surface. “You probably think I’m crazy. It’s a hard life, being a writer.”
Megan didn’t know what she should say, but it should be something encouraging. He saw her expression and laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask you out here to listen to me ramble about such things.”
She closed her mouth. “No, no, I think it’s great you’ve found something you…love so much. I wish I felt that way about…something.” In a bold move that surprised her, she picked up his hand and laced her fingers through his.
“I am having such a good time here,” Diedrich said into her ear. His voice was like velvet. “I must admit that when Father first told me that we were coming, I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?” They walked into the gardens and sat on one of the carved stone benches between the flower beds.
“Some of my school friends were taking a trip to the Swiss Alps for the holiday.” Diedrich sighed. “I wanted to go with them. But now I am glad I didn’t.”
Megan’s heart raced, her hands started to sweat. She fought the urge to pull away from him and wipe her palm on her jeans. The elegant gardens, so vivid during the day, were now gilded with silver moonlight. To her eyes they seemed enchanted. “I’m glad too,” she said softly. In her head, she heard the violins of a movie soundtrack.
“Yes, I’ve seen plenty of birds to add to my birdwatching book. And I’ve learned so much about England and English ways. It’s been a most enjoyable trip.”
Megan’s face dropped. She would not cry, or let him see her disappointment. It was her own fault, allowing herself to get swept up in the moment. Too many old movies.
Diedrich squeezed her hand. She swallowed, blinked back the tears and forced herself to look at him. He was smiling, which almost made her feel worse.
He put on that crooked grin that had made Meg melt earlier. “Can’t you take a joke?”
Megan jumped from the bench and turned to face him, hands on hips. “Y-You… That’s not funny.” She thrust her hands toward his chest, meaning to give him a playful shove.
He caught her hands and held both of them in his. “You know I’m glad I came because I met you.”
Despite the feeling that her skin was burning, Megan shivered. Diedrich put an arm around her shoulders. “Are you cold?”
“Uh…a little,” Megan said, her voice hoarse. She leaned against him and the smell of his cologne filled her nose and made her head swim.
“Maybe we should go back inside and warm up.” With his arm still around her, they walked back toward the house. Megan was glad he held onto her—if he let go she might float away.
As they walked around the pool, something caught Megan’s eye. A small strip of light peeked out from one of the rooms on the first floor of the south wing.
Dad must be working late. She looked again. The glow didn’t come from her father’s study. It was the library light. The heavy drapes had been pulled shut, and the light shone around them in a thin, yellow outline.
Who would be in there at this hour? Bailey had surely gone to his own rooms, and her father hardly ever went in the library. He would either be talking with Mr. Hemmlich or in bed. That itch in her brain came back with a vengeance.
Before she had a chance to ponder further, Diedrich guided her toward the back door and held it open for her.
“You know, it’s not all that late,” he said. They stepped into the kitchen. “Would you like to watch a movie? Say, Philadelphia Story or Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?”
Megan barely registered that Diedrich had offered to watch two of her favorite Katharine Hepburn movies—what she really wanted was to check out that light in the library. But not with Diedrich in tow. She would have to get him out of the way, for just a few minutes.
“A movie—that would be nice. You go on into the family room and get it set up. I’ll make us some popcorn and hot chocolate.”
Diedrich kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you there.”
Megan, almost forgetting why she needed him to go after the kiss, waited until his footsteps faded. She put her ear to the door of the kitchen. She heard the television room door close. She tiptoed past it and down the empty north-wing hallway, and up to the library door.
Light spilled from the fraction of an inch the door was left open. Megan pushed it open a little wider with her finger and peered through the crack. All she could see was the wall of bookshelves on the right-hand side of the room. Someone was definitely inside. She heard a shuffling sound—books being taken from the shelf, flipped through and shoved back. Whoever it was also grumbled in a low tone. Megan put her ear to the opening.
“It has to be here,” the gruff voice muttered. Megan heard the clatter of the rolling ladder as it was pushed along the shelves on the side of the room she couldn’t see. Footsteps climbing up. More shuffling, more muttering. A book flew into Megan’s field of view from across the room and hit the floor with a thump.
“It’s not here!” the voice said. The intruder clunked down the ladder. “Where else could it be? They said it would be here.”
Megan put her eye to the door again. The book that had been thrown lay in front of one of the three reading tables. A man walked over and bent to pick it up. He straightened and turned around, and Megan watched Josef Hemmlich take the book back to the other side of the library.
She jumped back from the door, her hands clapped over her mouth. She knew it! What is he looking for?
The room was filled with Sir Gregory’s reference books on art, antiques, folktales and mythology, plus some archaeological journals. It was a formidable collection, to be sure, but there was nothing that would warrant a late-night raid. Megan had searched it thoroughly when she first discovered Sir Gregory’s diary, and again with Rachel, Claire and Harriet when they found the poem.
Any book that a man like Hemmlich could want but wouldn’t already have or be able to get would be in the…
The thought made her stomach drop. No, Rachel’s right—how could he know about the Library of Athena? He’s looking for something though. I just have to find out what it is.
Josef continued to pull books from the shelves, ranting like a lunatic about whatever it was he couldn’t find and the price he would pay for failure.
“I’m running out of time,” he hissed as another book hit the floor. “They will not be happy if…”
Megan didn’t hear the rest. She couldn’t confront him until she was certain what he was after, and she especially did not want to face him alone. She walked back to the kitchen as quiet and quick as she could. She filled the teakettle with water, set it on the stove to boil and sat at the counter to think. Perhaps she was looking at this the wrong way. After all, she wasn’t an expert. Maybe there was something in the library, a book that only Mr. Hemmlich or someone in his profession would find valuable? But how would he know Sir Gregory had it?
It didn’t matter. Either way, he had no business sneaking around in there. She put a bag of popcorn in the microwave and pushed the On button.
Wondering where she should go from here, Megan put two mugs of steaming hot chocolate and the bowl of popcorn on a tray and headed toward the television room.
“Are you sure?”
Rachel’s voice was groggy but full of concern. “Maybe he couldn’t sleep and was looking for something to read. I know most of the books in that room would put me to sleep in a heartbeat.”
Megan shifted the phone to her other ear. “Positive. He was looking for something specific.” It was early to be calling her friend, not yet seven o’clock, but Megan needed to hear someone else’s opinion. She had tossed and turned all night, too wired to sleep, thoughts of what Josef Hemmlich’s late-night library visit might mean. Her imagination had run from the sublime to the ridiculous—at one point she thought perhaps he was part of an international ring of evil archaeologists. At thre
e a.m. she finally had given up trying to sleep. She sat on her bed, read the book she had started before Diedrich came to the door and waited for this barely reasonable time to call Rachel.
“What was he searching for, do you think?” Rachel yawned loudly in Megan’s ear.
“A book, obviously. If I knew which one, I wouldn’t have called you at the butt crack of dawn, now, would I?” Megan sniped. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I’m exhausted. I’ve been thinking about it all night, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t very well go accusing Dad’s guest and client of something as…silly…as pilfering the library.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Rachel said. “Just some rare, out-of-print book he wants or something. Probably something no one else even cares about.”
“There is some moldy old king he says he’s looking for,” Megan said. She stared at the canopy above her bed. “That’s why he’s here, to get money for some field trip to find the guy, buried out in the desert.” She didn’t mention Josef’s unbalanced behavior. It kind of scared her, and she didn’t want Rachel to freak out.
“There’s your answer,” Rachel said. “The book he wants is probably about that king or whatever. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Can I go back to sleep now, while you get a life?”
Megan was not satisfied. “Why the sneaking around? If it is a book he wants, why didn’t he just ask for it? Why come all the way here to look? He could have made a phone call and Dad could have shipped it to him. Or he could have asked to look around the library. It’s not like the subject of his trip is a secret.”
Rachel cleared her throat. “Fine, I guess I’m not going back to sleep. Maybe it’s really valuable, and he plans to steal it.”
“And if I tell my dad that I caught him last night?”
“He could just say he happened upon it while looking for something to read and that it’s not worth anything. He could avoid having to haggle over the price.”
“You know my dad. He’d probably give it to him if Mr. Hemmlich asked for it, especially if it meant getting his business.” Megan stifled a yawn. “Those books in the library don’t mean anything to him or me, they’re just—books. On the other hand, they’re not ours to give away.” She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, back to square one.”
“So, what do you want to do about it?” On the other end of the line was the sound of running water, then of teeth being scrubbed.
“What do you mean?”
Megan heard Rachel spit. “It’s obvious you aren’t going to let this go. So, I’ll help you. What do you want to do?”
Megan thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you come over and we’ll figure something out.”
“Okay. Give me an hour. I’ll grab Claire on my way. We know she’s smarter than both of us.”
Megan chuckled. “And she knows it too. I’ll see you soon.”
She splashed some cold water on her face, brushed her teeth, and then threw on some clothes and a bit of makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes. She plodded downstairs. No one seemed to be up except the staff. She shuffled into the kitchen and almost got run over by Maggie, who bustled by Megan without a second glance.
“Morning, Maggie.” Megan backed up and hovered by the door. The cook looked disheveled—there was flour on her nose and her usually neat red hair straggled out of its bun. She shoved a muffin into Megan’s hand.
“I’m sorry, miss,” Maggie said, out of breath. “Your da has requested a big breakfast this morning. Probably wants to close the deal today. No time to chat with ye right now.” She turned on a dime and shuffled off toward the pantry.
Megan grabbed some orange juice from the refrigerator and wandered into the south wing. She pulled the door to the library open and peered inside. It looked as it always did, not a book out of place. The curtains were open and tied back as always, and the morning sun poured across the carpet and tables in long golden rectangles.
Megan set her food on one of the tables and walked to the left-hand side of the room. All the ladders were at the very end of the shelves, near the window. Except for one. She stood in front of it. It was the section that had all the books on Egypt. No surprise there. Mr. Hemmlich had used the ladder last night—she had heard it roll and him climb. What were the chances that he hadn’t moved the ladder after she left?
She took a chance. It was a place to start, anyway. How many steps had she heard him take? She closed her eyes and thought back to last night. Step, step, step, step.
Megan climbed up four rungs and looked at the shelf in front of her. She pulled a book from the shelf that looked about the size of the one she had seen on the floor last night.
“A Guide to the Valley of the Kings.” At least she was on the right track. But she had gotten a glimpse of the cover of the book Mr. Hemmlich had thrown. That one was dark, while this one was yellow and red. She put the book back and looked at the spine of the one next to it. Queen Nefertari, Wife of the Gods was the title. She pulled it from the shelf and looked at the cover. Jackpot. She tucked it under one arm and jumped down from the ladder.
Megan settled into a chair and laid the book on the table. She took a sip of orange juice, a bite of muffin, and flipped back the book’s cover. On the first page was a drawing of a beautiful Egyptian woman. Skin the color of coffee, full lips, dark, almond-shaped eyes heavily lined in kohl and a long, thin nose were framed by dark straight hair. She reminded Megan of Miranda—a younger Miranda. Megan read the caption beneath the picture.
Queen Nefertari, also known as Ahmose-Nefertari, one of the most powerful queens of the Old Kingdom. This is an artist’s rendition based on the death mask found on the sarcophagus in her tomb.
Megan turned the page. There was another color plate, this one a photo of a painted wall. Egyptian figures walked across it in a straight line, surrounded by columns of hieroglyphics. Beneath this picture Megan read: A wall in the queen’s temple at Abu Simbel, dedicated to Nefertari by her husband, Ramses II. This much care in the tomb of a queen is highly unusual, and for this reason it is thought that Ramses loved her above all others. This scene depicts Nefertari as the Wife of Amon, or the God’s wife. Nefertari was also known as the King’s Daughter and King’s Sister.
Boring. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. Just another ancient Egyptian who’s been dead a thousand years. I don’t get the fascination some people have with this stuff, even if it is exciting in the movies.
Megan took another bite of muffin and paged through the rest of the book. When she came to the middle, she stopped. Another photograph of a wall painting was spread across both pages. Only one figure was in the picture—Nefertari. She sat on a throne of gold, looking regal in the gold circlet on her head with a cobra in front, poised to strike. Her arms were crossed over her chest. In one hand she held a rod, painted in alternating blue and gold stripes; three strands of blue and gold beads dangled from one end. In the other hand was what looked like a gold cross, except that the top was looped.
Megan looked at it carefully. The weird cross wasn’t just painted yellow—it was shiny, as if it were painted with gold leaf. Lines, drawn in red and gold, radiated from it like sun’s rays. She turned the page and found the caption that went with the picture.
This image of Queen Nefertari, holding the fabled Ankh of Isis, is on the wall of her burial chamber. The Ankh is a symbol of life after death.
Megan frowned. Where had she heard of the Ankh of Isis? It sounded familiar. She was certain Mr. Hemmlich hadn’t mentioned it. Or was she? Her head was fuzzy—she was too tired to think. She rested her elbow on the table, chin in her hand and stared at the picture. Her eyes grew heavy.
“Find something?” a voice said from the door. Megan jumped and turned in her chair to see Rachel and Claire enter.
“I’m not sure.” Megan ran her fingers over the gold ankh and closed the book. “This is the book Mr. Hemmlich threw across the room last night. I’ve paged through it, bu
t I don’t know if it means anything. It obviously wasn’t what he was looking for, or he wouldn’t have tossed it.”
“I’ve been mulling it over since your call,” Rachel said. She pulled out a chair, plunked down into it, broke off a piece of Megan’s muffin and popped it in her mouth.
“Yes?” Megan said.
Rachel swallowed. “What we need to do is have a peek at old Herr Hemmlich’s things.”
Megan yawned. “We can’t. It’s rude. What if he caught us?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I know it’s rude. It’s also rude to invite yourself somewhere and then go skulking about in one’s host’s house at night. I don’t see any other way to put these worries of yours to rest.”
Megan sighed. She laid her head on the table. “I assume you have some sort of plan? We can’t all just parade in there. Someone should keep an eye on him, my father and Diedrich, to make sure they don’t walk in on whoever is doing the searching.”
Rachel smiled. “Of course I have a plan.”
Claire gave her a hard look.
“Actually, it’s Claire’s plan.”
Megan turned her head to the side so that auburn curls hung across her face. “Okay, Claire. What’s the plan?”
“It’s very simple.” Claire adjusted her glasses and leaned in close to her friends. “While we distract everyone, Rachel will go and search his room.”
“That’s your plan?” Megan said. She raised her head slightly. “I could have thought of that. I did think of that.”
Rachel chuckled. “She said it was simple. Now come on, let’s get to work.”
“First we should go to breakfast,” Megan said. She picked the book up from the table and took it back to the shelf. “If I don’t show up, it will look strange.”
“And how are you going to explain me and Claire being here?” Rachel broke off another piece of muffin.
Megan cocked her head. “Are you kidding? You guys practically live here.” She laughed. “Dad won’t bat an eye.”
The Ankh of Isis: The Library of Athena, Book 2 Page 6