CNN VETERAN KITTY PILGRIM returns with her second novel featuring the beautiful young oceanographer Cordelia Stapleton and the dashing, urbane archaeologist John Sinclair.
Set in the international art world, The Stolen Chalice takes readers across the globe. Bombings, kidnappings, and Sinclair’s old love conspire against the couple as they search for valuable Egyptian art.
The black-tie gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art promises to be a star-studded evening. Cordelia Stapleton and John Sinclair have flown in from Alexandria, Egypt, to help celebrate ancient Greek, Roman, and Egyptian culture with New York’s elite. The influential crowd of artists, collectors, scientists, and New York society dine and dance at the museum’s historic Temple of Dendur, unaware that terrorists are planning to attack. Fortunately, museum security and police stop the terrorists, but the evening is a disaster.
The next morning, Cordelia and Sinclair learn that an art theft ring struck New York while they were at the museum. All over the city, pieces of Egyptian art have been stolen. Ted VerPlanck—a pillar of New York society whom Cordelia met the night before—discovers that his penthouse apartment was robbed and the legendary Sardonyx Cup, an ancient Egyptian chalice, is missing. Ted asks John Sinclair to help him recover his precious artifact.
Despite Cordelia’s objections, Sinclair calls on his old flame the Egyptologist Dr. Holly Graham to help find the chalice. They discover the stolen art is being sold on the black market to fund an international terrorist group. The group’s leader, a sinister Egyptian anarchist, and his aristocratic British partner, Lady Xandra Sommerset, are planning a biological-weapon attack to topple the major governments of the world.
Aided by British and American security forces, Sinclair sets out to find the missing art, which holds clues to where and when the attack will take place. Pieces of stolen art are scattered around the world. The action moves from a sprawling ranch in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to a castle on Scotland’s rugged coastline, a beautiful two-hundred-foot yacht in the Mediterranean, the mysterious canals of Venice, the premier beach resort of Sharm el-Sheikh, and ultimately Cairo. Romance sizzles as Sinclair, Cordelia, and Holly Graham are caught in a love triangle, distracted by their emotions, and unknowingly moving closer to mortal danger.
Superstition and science meet head-on. And one question remains unanswered—does the Sardonyx Cup have special powers?
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR THE STOLEN CHALICE
“The perfect summer read—a roller-coaster ride of suspense, adventure, action, and glamour, speeding the reader to the most romantic spots in the world, full of fascinating facts, ingenious plots, and satisfying conclusions.” —NANCY THAYER, AUTHOR OF SUMMER BREEZE
“A riveting novel of love, adventure, and international intrigue—deftly plotted.”
—DAWN TRIPP, AUTHOR OF GAME OF SECRETS
PRAISE FOR THE EXPLORER’S CODE
“Masterful . . . sure to appeal to fans of iris Johansen and Sandra Brown.”
—BOOKLIST
“Fast-paced with roller-coaster ups and downs.”
—NANCY GRACE, HEADLINE NEWS ANCHOR
“A rollicking good read . . . Guaranteed to leave you chilled, breathless, and demanding a sequel!”
—MARTIN SAVIDGE, CNN INTERNATIONAL CORRESPONDENT
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXYbjlJGFrk
CLICK FOR AN EXCLUSIVE BEHIND-THE-BOOK VIDEO
AWARD-WINNING CNN CORRESPONDENT AND ANCHOR KITTY PILGRIM traveled to the farthest reaches of the world on assignment. Now, after twenty-four years as a broadcast journalist, Kitty has taken on an exciting new assignment, writing novels. Pilgrim is active in international affairs as a member of the Council on Foreign Relations and is a full member of the historic Explorers Club, which is dedicated to field research and exploration. She lives in New York City and in Rhinecliff, New York.
Visit her website, www.kittypilgrim.com.
MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT
SimonandSchuster.com
• THE SOURCE FOR READING GROUPS •
JACKET DESIGN BY PHILIP E. PASCUZZO
JACKET PHOTOGRAPHS: BACKGROUND © JOE PETERSBURGER/NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC STOCK;
COUPLE © MAT THIAS CLAMER; AUTHOR PHOTO © CAROL SEITZ
AUTHOR HAIR/MAKEUP STYLIST KIM WAYMAN
COPYRIGHT © 2012 SIMON & SCHUSTER
ALSO BY KITTY PILGRIM
The Explorer’s Code
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2012012957
ISBN 978-1-4391-9728-8
ISBN 978-1-4391-9740-0 (ebook)
To my mother, Nan
Contents
Chapter 1: East Seventy-Seventh Street, New York
Chapter 2: Long Island City, Queens, New York
Chapter 3: 1010 Fifth Avenue, New York
Chapter 4: 15 Desbrosses Street, Tribeca, New York
Chapter 5: Brooklyn Museum of Art, Brooklyn
Chapter 6: The Mark Hotel, East Seventy-Seventh Street, New York
Chapter 7: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
Chapter 8: Carlyle Hotel, New York
Chapter 9: Metropolitan Museum of Art
Chapter 10: 1010 Fifth Avenue
Chapter 11: Metropolitan Museum of Art
Chapter 12: 1010 Fifth Avenue
Chapter 13: Metropolitan Museum of Art
Chapter 14: Carlyle Hotel
Chapter 15: Metropolitan Museum of Art
Chapter 16: Madison Avenue and Eighty-Second Street, New York
Chapter 17: 1010 Fifth Avenue
Chapter 18: The Mark Hotel
Chapter 19: Mayfair, London, England
Chapter 20: Carlyle Hotel
Chapter 21: Balthazar Restaurant, Soho, New York
Chapter 22: Time Warner Center, One Columbus Circle, New York
Chapter 23: Conservation Labs, Brooklyn Museum
Chapter 24: 19th Police Precinct, East Sixty-Seventh Street, New York
Chapter 25: Brooklyn Museum
Chapter 26: North Cove Marina, New York
Chapter 27: 1010 Fifth Avenue
Chapter 28: North Shore University Hospital, Manhasset, Long Island
Chapter 29: 15 Desbrosses Street
Chapter 30: Red Parrot Bar, Vestry Street, New York
Chapter 31: The Khamsin Motoryacht, Off the Coast
of Maine
Chapter 32: Central Park, New York
Chapter 33: Cairo, Egypt
Chapter 34: Brooklyn Museum
Chapter 35: British Air, First-Class Lounge, Kennedy Airport, New York
Chapter 36: Brooklyn, New York
Chapter 37: Grosvenor Street, London
Chapter 38: Teterboro Airport, New Jersey
Chapter 39: London
Chapter 40: Manchester Street, London
Chapter 41: The Khamsin Motoryacht, North Atlantic, N 44°38', W 43°56'
Chapter 42: Meadow Lane, Southampton, Long Island
Chapter 43: Flight UA 6534, Denver to Jackson Hole, Wyoming
Chapter 44: Bristol and Overton Solicitors, Manchester Street, London
Chapter 45: Grosvenor Street, London
Chapter 46: Cairo, Egypt
Chapter 47: Jackson Hole, Wyoming
Chapter 48: Bristol and Overton Solicitors, Manchester Street, London
Chapter 49: Ritz Hotel, London
Chapter 50: Grosvenor Street, London
Chapter 51: Grand Teton National Park, Jackson Hole
Chapter 52: Long Island City
Chapter 53: Brooklyn Museum
Chapter 54: London
Chapter 55: Grosvenor Street, London
Chapter 56: Ritz Hotel
Chapter 57: Queens, New York
Chapter 58: Upper East Side, New York
Chapter 59: The Khamsin Motoryacht, N 47°14', W 27°29'
Chapter 60: Queens
Chapter 61: London
Chapter 62: British Museum, London
Chapter 63: Biggin Hill Airport, London
Chapter 64: Balmoral Hotel, Edinburgh, Scotland
Chapter 65: Somewhere in the English Channel
Chapter 66: Balmoral Hotel
Chapter 67: Ayrshire, Scotland
Chapter 68: Mary King’s Close, Edinburgh
Chapter 69: Culzean Castle, Ayrshire
Chapter 70: Unknown Location, English Channel
Chapter 71: Culzean Castle
Chapter 72: The Khamsin Motoryacht
Chapter 73: Federal Plaza, New York
Chapter 74: Grosvenor Street, London
Chapter 75: The Khamsin Motoryacht, N 37°32', E 8°36'
Chapter 76: Secret Intelligence Service (MI6), London
Chapter 77: Grand Canal, Venice, Italy
Chapter 78: London
Chapter 79: Venice
Chapter 80: The Khamsin, Venice Yacht Club
Chapter 81: Hotel Danieli, Venice
Chapter 82: La Fenice Opera House, Venice
Chapter 83: Ristorante al Teatro, Venice
Chapter 84: La Fenice Opera House
Chapter 85: Hotel Danieli
Chapter 86: La Fenice Opera House
Chapter 87: Venice
Chapter 88: Hotel Danieli
Chapter 89: Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt
Chapter 90: The Khamsin Motoryacht
Chapter 91: Sharm el-Sheikh
Chapter 92: Sharm el-Sheikh
Chapter 93: The MoonSonnet Motorsailer, Sharm el-Sheikh
Chapter 94: Sharm el-Sheikh Conference Center
Chapter 95: The MoonSonnet Motorsailer
Chapter 96: Sharm el-Sheikh Conference Center
Chapter 97: The MoonSonnet Motorsailer
Chapter 98: Sharm el-Sheikh Conference Center
Chapter 99: The MoonSonnet Motorsailer
Chapter 100: Sharm el-Sheikh Conference Center
Chapter 101: Namru-3, Cairo
Chapter 102: The MoonSonnet Motorsailer, N 40°03', E 26°17'
Chapter 103: Namru-3
Acknowledgments
All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.
—T. E. Lawrence, The Seven Pillars of Wisdom
When the plague visits Egypt, it is generally in the spring; and the disease is most severe in the period of the Khamsin.
—Edward William Lane, An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, 1860
THE STOLEN CHALICE
East Seventy-Seventh Street, New York
THE BLACK MERCEDES CLS 550 stopped in front of the Mark Hotel on East Seventy-Seventh Street and the doorman rushed out to open the passenger door. In the fraction of a second it took John Sinclair to step out of the limousine, time collapsed. It had been five years since he last stood in this exact spot, but it seemed like yesterday, with one important difference—life had vastly improved, thanks to Cordelia Stapleton.
He turned to help Cordelia from the car, lacing his fingers through hers, as she surveyed the quiet Upper East Side neighborhood. The canopy of the Mark Hotel was before her, and golden, fan-shaped ginkgo leaves whirled down in the autumn breeze.
“I can’t believe we’re actually here!” she said, her green eyes lighting up with excitement.
“I know I put up some resistance about coming to this gala,” Sinclair admitted, “but now I’m actually looking forward to it.”
The Ancient Civilizations Ball was the most glamorous event of the fall social season. International celebrities and New York society people mingled with the elite of the art and antiquities world. Sinclair’s attendance was sure to generate a buzz. He was a celebrated archaeologist and had discovered more ancient sites than anyone since Howard Carter, the legendary explorer who found King Tut’s tomb.
As Sinclair entered the hotel, the desk manager looked up.
“Welcome back, Mr. Sinclair! So nice to see you again.”
“How are you, Bernie? It’s been entirely too long. I’d like you to meet Cordelia Stapleton.”
“Miss Stapleton, delighted! No need to register, I have your information. What time would you like the hotel car to pick you up this evening?”
“Seven-thirty would be fine,” Sinclair said, checking his watch.
The manager walked with them to the elevator, reached in, and punched the button for the tenth floor. As it ascended, Sinclair watched the lights—3, 4, 5—and then turned to Cordelia.
“I’m so glad you’re here with me, Delia,” he said, using her childhood nickname.
She gave him a look that lingered for another two floors. Then he moved decisively, pulling her toward him. She melted into his chest, pressing her cheek against his white shirt. He bent down and kissed her until the chime of the elevator registered in his brain and she pulled away.
“I’ll get the bags settled and then we can continue our . . . conversation,” Sinclair said as he followed the uniformed bellman into the bedroom of the suite.
Cordelia watched his broad shoulders retreat down the hall and turned to survey the living room—tastefully decorated in shades of pale gold. On the bar, an ice bucket held Veuve Clicquot and Badoit mineral water. Out the window, skyscrapers glowed silver against the evening sky.
“John, you should look at this view!” she called.
All was silent, only the air conditioner was whirring.
“John?”
No answer. She entered the bedroom and found Sinclair asleep, fully clothed. He was a gorgeous sight, stretched out in his elegant Savile Row suit. There was a formal stateliness to his position—flat on his back, arms at his sides—as if he were an ancient pharaoh lying on a bier. His face was still deeply tanned from the expedition to Egypt, a contrast to the white pillowcase. Sinclair had strong features, classically handsome, but with a rugged appearance that spoke of sun and sand, and a life spent outdoors.
Careful not to disturb him, Cordelia tiptoed over to her suitcase. The zipper made a tearing sound and he stirred.
“I drifted off,” he said sleepily.
“Sorry, I need to hang up my dress.”
Sinclair rolled on his side and propped his head up.
“Care to join me?” He patted the bed next to him. “I know a gre
at cure for jet lag. You’ll feel like a new woman.”
His eyes were dancing, and a smile played around his lips.
“I’m so tired, I might not get up again,” she demurred.
“What’s that over there on the desk?” he asked.
Cordelia hung up her gown and then walked over to a huge vase of white lilies wrapped in glistening cellophane. She pulled off the card and read it aloud.
“Dear Delia, Have a great time at the gala. Love, Jim Gardiner.”
“He really does spoil you,” Sinclair observed.
“He always did,” she agreed, walking toward the bathroom. “I think there’s time for a nice soak before we go out.”
The bath was palatial—a large, footed tub and his-and-her marble sinks.
“Ohhh . . . they have my favorite ginseng bubble bath!” she called back to him, seizing the Molton Brown bottle.
“Is that tub big enough for two?” she heard him ask from the bedroom.
“Of course.”
She turned on the tap, undressed, pinned up her hair, and slipped in, feeling the warm water slide over her limbs. Sinclair appeared in the doorway, holding the bottle of champagne and two flute glasses. His tie was pulled loose and his shoes were off.
“May I join you?”
Long Island City, Queens, New York
THE WORKING-CLASS NEIGHBORHOOD was a few miles away from the gleaming luxury of Manhattan. Decades ago this had been a respectable place to live. Now the family row houses were dilapidated and streaked with grime, and vacant lots were interspersed with industrial warehouses.
Vojtech threw his cigarette to the curb, picked up his bag, and walked over to the dented steel door of Fantastic Fetes.
“You’re late!” the catering manager yelled at him. “You were supposed to be in the van five minutes ago!”
The manager’s florid neck undulated with rage.
Vojtech felt the cold metal grip of his pistol in his canvas coat. As he pulled the weapon out, it caught on the pocket. He tugged the barrel free and pointed it at the catering manager.
His hand shook a bit. But the boss didn’t see that—his eyes were on the gun, bulging with fear.
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