The Curse of the Pharaoh #1

by Sir Steve Stevenson

  “Dash and I have the whole day free. Would you like some help?”

  “Read that sign,” he snapped, not even bothering to meet her eyes. “Authorized personnel only.”

  Agatha feigned deep disappointment. “Oh, too bad! I was so hoping to learn more about your noble profession. It’s so fascinating.”

  Jafar looked up, stroking his pointy beard as he stared at them. The jeweler’s loupe magnified his right eye, making his hypnotic gaze even stranger. “Maybe after lunch I can give you a couple of tips,” he conceded. “But you must run off now and let me attend to my work.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. Jafar,” Agatha said happily. “That’s super nice of you!”

  Frowning, he squinted at her through the eyepiece.

  Dash and Agatha hurried away. “Cool,” Dash said under his breath. “He won’t be back at the camp until noon at least. We’re on our own.”

  “Exactly,” said Agatha. “Where shall we start? Jafar’s tent or the pavilion?”

  “At school, they taught us to rule out the long shots first,” said Dash. “That Jafar guy gives me the creeps. So I vote for the pavilion.”

  “Bedrooms or lab?”

  “Let’s check out their rooms while we know they’re away.”

  They entered the pavilion, eyes wide with curiosity. It was the first time they’d been in the main tent alone. Skipping the kitchen, they went right to the sleeping quarters.

  The space was divided into thirds by woven reed dividers; there were three cots, three nightstands, and three wardrobe trunks.

  Agatha shot her cousin a questioning look. “So what would your teachers tell us to do next?”

  “Always search the most ordinary places first.” Dash grinned. “Are you checking to see if I dozed off in class?”

  “A little refresher course never hurts!”

  They checked under the beds, finding nothing but sand. They patted down all the bedding and pillows. No luck. Then they opened the wardrobe trunks, checking to see that there were no false bottoms.

  Still nothing.

  “It would be pretty hard to hide a clay tablet in here,” said Agatha. “But we might turn up some clues.”

  Dash looked through the drawers. In Maigret’s nightstand, under a pile of papers, he found an old revolver, well oiled and loaded. “What a weird-looking gun,” he said without touching it. “You take a look, you’re the expert.”

  Agatha carefully picked it up with a handkerchief, to avoid leaving fingerprints, and examined it.

  Dash knew what she was about to say. “Let me guess. Does it have to do with a memory drawer?” he asked wryly.

  She smiled, playing along. “If my memory serves me correctly, this is a World War Two German Luger,” she observed. “There’s an encyclopedia of firearms in the Mistery Estate library. Maybe the professor collects antique guns.”

  “It’s the first suspicious thing we’ve turned up,” said Dash. “Why would Professor Maigret need a gun? It could mean he’s up to no good…”

  Agatha nodded, replacing the gun in the drawer in the exact same position and covering it with the pile of papers.

  They spent another half hour rummaging through the three professors’ possessions, reading their notebooks, letters, and official contracts. Then they went to the laboratory.

  It was the biggest space in the pavilion, chockfull of books, computers, and equipment used to analyze archaeological finds: microscopes, electronic scales, centrifuges, infrared lamps, and a stash of syringes, pipettes, tweezers, and chemical reactants.

  “I’ll check out the cupboards,” Dash suggested.

  “Good idea,” said Agatha, surprised he was taking the lead. Though it was his exam, after all. “Be careful not to leave any traces.”

  They each took a pair of sterile gloves from a box on the workbench.

  Ever since she was little, Agatha had loved playing in her parents’ lab, so she knew quite a bit about analytical testing. It seemed that every machine in this lab had been turned off after the tablet was stolen. There were a thousand chemical clues to collect, but they’d need more time to do the search justice.

  Just before noon they stopped to compare notes.

  “Did you find anything?” asked Dash. “I’ve got zero.”

  “Nothing yet. It would take years to examine all this.”

  “But we’ve just got a day and a half. Then they flunk me,” Dash said gloomily.

  Agatha tried to comfort him. “Look on the bright side. If there’s nothing here, that means it’s more likely we’ll find something in Jafar’s tent…”

  “Okay, let’s keep going!”

  Agatha put her plastic gloves in her pocket—it wouldn’t be safe to leave them in the trash can—and started to follow him out of the lab. On the threshold, she turned to call Watson.

  The cat was curled up on the workbench. In the bright midday sun, she could see that his white fur was covered in dust.

  “Wait, Dash!” she exclaimed. “I’ve got an idea!” She grabbed the infrared lamp and put it on the workbench. When she pressed the switch, Watson jumped up and ran under the counter, his tail bushing out.

  “What are you doing, cousin?”

  “Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” Agatha said. “The tablet sat here on the bench for a whole day!”

  “So what?”

  “The infrared lamp can detect individual particles of clay,” she explained. “Look!”

  A light dust appeared on the workbench, the same shape as the tablet they’d seen in the photograph.

  Agatha raised her arms in victory. “Yes!”

  Without wasting a minute, she drew some dust into a syringe, transferring it into a small vial in the centrifuge. “This will tell us the exact chemical composition,” she said, satisfied.

  “Why do we need to know that?” Dash asked, bewildered.

  “To find the tablet, dear cousin!”

  When the centrifuge stopped, a sequence of numbers appeared. Dash’s face brightened. “You’re a genius, Agatha!” he said, taking out his EyeNet. He quickly scrolled through the menu. “I just have to find the right function!”

  When he was ready, Agatha carefully read the sequence of numbers, and he keyed them in. Then they left the pavilion, keeping an eye on the EyeNet’s monitor as they waited for a signal.

  Dash crisscrossed the site, followed closely by Agatha. At long last, as they were approaching the quarry, the EyeNet gave an unmistakable BEEP!

  “To the quarry!” shouted both Mistery cousins.

  They broke into a run. The hot sun was high overhead, and all the workers sat in the shade eating lunch, except for Jafar, who was scrutinizing a pebble through his loupe with intense concentration.

  The two young detectives crept through the site. Ducking from tent to tent, they moved quickly and did their best to stay hidden from view.

  Dash checked the EyeNet again, setting the signal to VIBRATE mode. It was coming from the mound of discarded stones. Perfect—they wouldn’t have to cross the barbed wire.

  Unnoticed, they reached the far side of the mound.

  “The tablet is somewhere under this rock pile. Start digging!” Dash whispered. He set his Eyenet on the ground and sank his hands into the crumbled rocks, digging hole after hole. Panting with heat and exhaustion, he turned to face Agatha, who was sitting stock-still with the EyeNet in her hands.

  “Why aren’t you helping?” he asked.

  Agatha looked upset. “Dash, look at the EyeNet,” she whispered, passing it to him.

  He gazed at the screen and fell silent instantly. The pattern of clay particles was spread out all over the mound, in an area far too large for a tablet.

  “It must have been pulverized,” Agatha said. “The tablet we’re looking for doesn’t exist anymore. Somebody destroyed it.”

  Dash slumped back, staring up at the blazing sun. “That’s it, then. The end of the investigation,” he said with a bitter sigh. “And the end of my brilliant detective
career.”

  They sat for a moment in silence.

  Then, out of the corner of his eye, Dash saw Agatha pick something out of the rubble. It looked like a long waxy string. Then she picked up several more.

  “Did you notice these candles?” she asked. “They’ve been burned the wrong way.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “The wick is intact, but the wax has been melted away.”

  Dash picked up one of the candle stubs with its long wick. “That must be some kind of Egyptian custom,” he said without interest. “They do everything backward here.”

  Agatha looked at him. “What did you just say, Dash?”

  “That everything’s backward in Egypt,” he repeated impatiently.

  Agatha slapped her hand to her forehead, as if she were swatting a bug.

  “Of course! You just answered the riddle!”

  At that exact moment, the jeep Chandler was driving had started to swerve, buffeted by the fierce winds of a sandstorm. They were speeding away from the tiny oasis of Abu Sidan, on the far side of the towering cliffs. Chandler and the three Egyptologists had stopped at the palm grove long enough to search every inch of the solitary brick building, the tumbledown shacks, and even the well.

  There was nobody there.

  “The thieves must have escaped,” Dr. Dortmunder said angrily. “We’ve come all this way for nothing!”

  That was exactly the point, Chandler thought. Suppressing a private grin, he arranged his features to look disappointed. “I suggest we head back to the base camp to gather new satellite images,” he said gravely.

  But on the way back, a howling wind blew out of nowhere. The sand swirled so high that it obliterated the view of the road and the mountains behind.

  Suddenly Professor Maigret lurched forward. “Watch out for that boulder, detective!” he shouted.

  In the backseats, Paretsky and Dortmunder instinctively covered their faces, sure they were about to smash into the boulders obstructing the road.

  Instead, Chandler swerved around the obstacles like a professional race-car driver, which he’d been for a while between boxing and butler school. “Don’t worry, gentlemen,” he said in his gravelly voice. “We’ll be safe once we get to the ridge.”

  Just as he predicted, the storm’s fury abated as soon as they reached the foothills, and an hour or so later, the jeep drove back through the funnel entrance between the stone cliffs and parked in front of the tent pavilion.

  It was sunset, and a gentle breeze blew through the sheltered camp.

  As they climbed out of the jeep, the Egyptologists were still coughing and brushing the sand from their clothes.

  “Did you find the tablet?” Agatha asked eagerly. “And the thieves?”

  “Mission failed,” grumbled Paretsky. “There wasn’t a living soul at the oasis.”

  The other two scholars just sighed.

  Agatha’s face fell. She looked every bit as disappointed as Chandler had, then turned toward him to drop a quick wink.

  “The villains escaped,” Chandler said, grim-voiced. “I’m going to contact the agency for additional satellite imaging, so we can track their movements.”

  “Have some dinner first,” urged Agatha. “You must all be starving, and Dash and I made an incredible pizza!”

  Dr. Dortmunder looked much happier. So did the other two scholars, as soon as they caught a whiff of garlic, basil, and tomato sauce drifting out from the kitchen. All three of them hurried back to their rooms to change out of their sandblasted clothes.

  The second they left, Agatha, Dash, and Chandler went into a huddle. Agatha filled him in on their findings, and asked him where the guns were.

  “They’re still in the jeep, Miss Agatha,” he replied. “Would you like me to get them?”

  Just at that moment, Professor Maigret burst into the kitchen. “Get what?” he asked suspiciously.

  Dash bent over the oven, pretending to check on the pizzas, while Agatha quickly thought up an excuse.

  “Dessert!” she said, smiling. “We’ve prepared a surprise dessert!”

  In a way, this was perfectly true.

  She and Dash had spent the entire afternoon laying a trap to catch the culprit red-handed.

  Maigret surveyed the fully set dinner table with a frown. “Why have you set an extra place?” he asked.

  Agatha kept her voice level. “We’ve asked Mr. Jafar to join us tonight, if it’s all right with you,” she explained.

  The professor eyed her suspiciously, then said, “Fine with me.”

  Agatha exhaled in relief and went to help Dash with the pizza cutter. Paretsky and Dortmunder sat down, and then Jafar arrived. Looking tense, he perched on the edge of his folding chair.

  “Buon appetito!” said Agatha cheerfully as Dash passed out slices of pizza. But instead of eating her own, she furtively observed the behavior of her fellow diners. Professor Maigret cut his into neat triangles with a knife and fork. Dr. Paretsky frowned, scraping off the top layer of cheese. Dr. Dortmunder folded his slice in half so he could eat twice as fast, while Jafar barely nibbled the edges, careful to keep the sauce out of his beard.

  Dash and Chandler ate their slices the usual way, but they both looked a little bit nervous.

  When all four suspects had finished their meal, Agatha stood up.

  The moment of truth had arrived.

  “Ahem,” she said, clearing her throat.

  “Something wrong?” Dr. Dortmunder asked kindly as he loosened his belt. “Bit of pizza crust down the wrong pipe?”

  “Dear sirs,” she began, “I must tell you exactly what happened on the fateful night that the tablet was stolen.”

  Maigret almost knocked over his glass of Bordeaux. “Now the children are playing detective?” he sneered.

  Agatha paused momentarily, glancing at Chandler and Dash, who both nodded that she should go on.

  “Our story begins in the afternoon three days ago, when the tablet was brought to the laboratory for cleaning,” she stated. “While Dr. Paretsky began to translate the inscription, rumors spread through the camp that the strange hieroglyphs were backward. Some of the workers were frightened, and started to whisper about the pharaoh’s curse.”

  “By Anubis, how could you know about that?” interrupted Jafar, looking terrified.

  Agatha ignored him, pressing on with her speech. “That evening, two of them went to their tent and found a note that filled them with terror,” she continued, her confidence growing. “Before evil could strike them, they fled from the camp, climbing over the cliffs to avoid getting caught at the checkpoint.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” snorted Dr. Paretsky, enraged. “Those two men robbed us!”

  Agatha shook her head, holding up the incriminating note. “My dear sirs, this message was left in their tent by one of the four of you!”

  The scholars jumped out of their chairs, eyeing each other warily.

  “How can you be so sure?” Dortmunder demanded.

  “Somebody wanted to make them look guilty, dear doctor,” Agatha replied calmly. “Now let’s jump forward. Late that night, worn out from a long day at work, you all retired to your rooms. One of you, however, did not go to sleep. He waited until the camp was quiet, then collected the tools for his sinister plan.” She turned toward Maigret. “For security, he took a gun with him.”

  “What gun are you talking about?” exclaimed the elderly Egyptologist.

  “Perhaps your own Luger, Professor?” replied Agatha. “But that’s not the point,” she continued. “The mysterious man crept down to the quarry, to the mound of discarded stones. The perfect place to ensure that no one would ever find the tablet.”

  She paused for a breath, her eyes narrowing. “The man took out the candles he’d brought with him, melting the wax. He poured the hot liquid into the crevices formed by the hieroglyphs, creating a cast of the tablet. Now the inscriptions were reversed, making it easier to decipher…”

  “Th
at’s insane!” cried Maigret. “You could do the same thing with a computer or even a mirror!”

  “That’s exactly the point, Professor,” Agatha said with an angelic smile. “The mysterious man wanted to erase those inscriptions forever so no one could do the same thing. In fact, as soon as the wax cooled, he pounded the tablet to dust. Then he hid the copy in the one place where he could preserve it, a place where the wax wouldn’t melt. It’s very hot here in Egypt, you know…”

  Just then, Dr. Dortmunder sprang to his feet and drew the Luger from his belt. Evidently he’d taken it from Maigret’s nightstand before coming into the kitchen. “Stay where you are,” he ordered, backing in small steps toward the freezer. “I don’t know how you managed to uncover my secret, but now we’ll have to do things the hard way!”

  “Dortmunder?!” Maigret was stunned. “Is what she said true?”

  “Of course, Professor. Do you think I’m an idiot?” Dortmunder snarled. “I know the way these things go. You’re the team leader. As soon as you locate the pharaoh’s tomb, you would take all the credit for the discovery and no one would even remember my name. Or yours, Paretsky, you spineless fool!”

  Chandler was grinding his teeth, ready to throw one of his knockout punches. Agatha placed a hand on his arm, as Dortmunder pointed the gun at him. “Not one step closer,” he threatened.

  Dash trembled in shock. None of this had been part of their plan. The situation was spiraling out of control.

  Agatha took a deep breath. “Calm down, Dr. Dortmunder,” she said firmly. “Take the cast out of the freezer and leave in the jeep. I promise, nobody will follow you!”

  Dash broke out in a cold sweat.

  What was his cousin saying? Had she lost her mind?

  “I accept your offer, Miss Nosy.” Dortmunder’s chuckle had a nasty edge. “Everyone against the wall! Shut up and stand still!”

  He pulled a rope from a shelf and flung it at Dash. “Tie yourselves together, nice and tight!” He raised the Luger.

  The others obeyed. Dortmunder took a step backward, slowly opening the freezer door.

  Chandler shifted his weight.

  “Don’t try any tricks!” the scientist threatened them, nervously waving the gun.