The letter awaited. She went back to work. Carefully she lifted the envelope and slipped out two pages of Grayson’s script.
Dear Merryvale,
I trust you are in good health and continue to take care.
The dreadful news of Queensbury and Peel has not yet reached London. Once it does, gaining access to the star cone will be near impossible. Agents of Lampley have already tried to collect the cone, but I was able to prevent this. As you know, I am less than certain about the authenticity of Lampley’s interest in this project. However, as long as he provides funding, it will be difficult to remove him.
In reference to the astronomy link, it seems you were right. Over the past two years, a number of priceless astrolabes have been stolen or gone missing. Reports of these robberies have come in from Paris, Athens, Granada, and Constantinople. It appears likely you have found the maker of these particular devices. Why they are important, aside from their intrinsic value, we do not yet know. However, there have been deaths associated with the thefts. I urge you to be cautious.
With regard to Lady Olivia, I will do as you request, though I worry that our plans may put her in undue danger. Whoever has the key, controls the tomb. But whoever has the key, is also a target.
Godspeed,
Paul, Lord Grayson
Olivia held the letter with trembling hands—frightened, excited, curious, and confused. Queensbury and Peel? Her father’s exploration companions. What had happened to them? Was her father alone? This Lampley fellow clearly could not be trusted. Had her father wanted Grayson to send him the star cone? Olivia paused. If the cone was not secure, then Grayson had been awfully lackadaisical in allowing her free access to the museum. Or had that been deliberate?
She put the letter down to prevent herself from crinkling it, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The correspondence had added to her questions, not answered them. Her heart pounded a runaway beat. She scanned the attached document. It was a creation myth of sorts copied from the tomb, with Grayson’s notes inserted.
Astrolabes were being stolen? What was important about these astrolabes? She thought her father and Grayson were searching for ancient scrolls and documents from the Great Library. For the improvement of mankind. This didn’t sound like an excavation to enrich the academic body. She tapped her fingers. What kind of knowledge were they after?
Olivia wiped her inking pen clean, admiring the instrument’s design. Instead of going through quills each week, she’d had metal fashioned into the shape of a quill. It worked wonderfully. She tilted it into her ink and meticulously copied the letter word for word along with the original Egyptian text and Grayson’s notes. She needed time to think. And to research. When she was done copying, she closed the seal and held it facing up over a lit candle. Carefully she softened the wax, and with her sewing needle, pressed bits of the indented Grayson seal into the paper, trying to cause as little disfigurement as possible. Then she put it aside and watched it dry, hopeful of her success.
She examined her work. “Sometimes I amaze even myself. Now to put you back where you belong.”
Olivia slipped from her cabin and approached Stafford’s door. She knocked. No answer. Good. She was about to try the door, when a sailor in the shadows at the end of the narrow hall greeted her.
“Feeling better, Professor?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you. I was just a bit tired. Is the captain on deck?”
“Yes. Would you like me to get him for you?”
“No, that’s fine.” She moved to the door of the chart room. She would have to see if the connecting door was open to his cabin. “I’m just going to see if I can find a book.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to join the cap’n on deck? Have a bite to eat?”
“Oh, no. I don’t want bother anyone. We all need a little break from each other,” she explained.
He looked reluctant to leave. “As you wish. I better get back to work myself. Have a good eve, Professor.”
She watched as he reluctantly went on deck. Olivia closed the door to the chart room behind her and hurried to the connecting room. It swung open with ease. She climbed a chair and reached for the small, secret ship model and shook.
Silence.
Her chest froze in panic. She shook again. There was nothing inside. Gads. He’d either hidden the key elsewhere or had it on him. Either way, it indicated a decided lack of trust in her. How unforgivably rude not to trust her. She stood on the chair holding the small ship, wondering what to do next.
“Looking for something?”
At the sound of his voice and sudden arrival, the obvious clicked in place. “You had your man spy on me!” she accused, outraged.
He folded arms across his massive chest and widened his stance. “With good reason, it appears.”
“I beg your pardon.” She drew up to her full height, and looked down her nose, for once taller, thanks to the chair.
“You’re not pardoned, you deceitful thief. Did you read the letter?”
She gasped but recovered her outrage. “If you knew I had it, why didn’t you say so?”
“I was testing your honor and trustworthiness. Both of which I find lacking.”
All true. She just hadn’t wanted him to know it. “I read all my father’s correspondence. And you should have told me you had a letter for him, especially after I told you he might be in mortal danger.”
His arms unfolded as he stalked forward and snatched the letter. “You put my personal integrity at stake.”
“You put my father’s life at stake!”
“He put his own life at stake. And likely yours too.” Stafford was angry. With her and her father, it seemed.
She gasped. “Did you read the letter?”
“What?” He was affronted. “Of course not! Why? What did Grayson say? Have they deliberately endangered you?” Fury darkened his eyes in a frightening manner.
“No. I don’t know. I didn’t actually understand what the letter was all about.” She chewed her lip, thoughtful.
“Perfect. So on top of being hunted down, having a price on your head, and being a thief, you have to worry about your father and your late friend conspiring to injure you.”
She denied instantly. “No, no. It was nothing like that. Grayson simply said he did as my father requested, but was concerned it might put me in harm’s way.”
“Well you’ve sure as hell been in harm’s way,” he barked.
“Is there still a price on my head?”
“We can only assume.”
“That’s very unsettling.”
“It damn well should be, Ollie!”
“Stop yelling at me. It’s very upsetting,” she shouted. “And I need to think!”
“You should have thought more before you became a lying, conniving thief!”
She took a sharp intake of breath and released. “I’m nothing like that at all. I had to steal the funerary cone to save my father! He said it was a matter of life and death. Would you not do the same to rescue a loved one?”
He didn’t say anything.
“And then it was stolen from me, so I was fortunate to have the extra script to negotiate with. That’s the only reason I took Grayson’s translation. Heaven knows he can’t translate hieroglyphics to save his life.”
“Agreed. He’s dead.”
“And really, what would you think if the last man to see Grayson was carrying a letter to your father and he didn’t tell you?”
“That it was none of my business. And,” he said, “I wasn’t the last man to see Grayson. His murderer was. I take offense to any implication otherwise.”
“Oh, I never really thought you killed Grayson,” she said.
“Your confidence warms my heart.” He pulled the key from his pocket and put the letter back in the correspondence box. Then he pocketed the key again.
He didn’t trust her at all. That’s not what she wanted.
“Wait here.” She ran to her cabin and snatched the c
opy of the letter. He stared at the paper when she returned. “I made a copy so I could study it.”
“Of course you did.”
“Don’t be snippy. I have to be prepared if I’m to save my father. He must have written to Grayson at the same time he wrote me. Or shortly before. Otherwise Grayson would have told me my father was in trouble.”
“Maybe he’s not in trouble.”
“He said it was a matter of life or death. I believe that constitutes a great urgency, Mr. Stafford. My father is enthusiastic, but is not one for melodrama. Plus, something ‘dreadful’ has happened to the other members of the party. I think they might be dead.” Olivia held the copy of the letter. “In any case, this new information makes no sense. I don’t know why they would care that the librarian made astrolabes. It’s interesting and would make for a nice collection, but we should be focusing on what is in the tomb and being excavated, not what is already saved. Grayson and my father seem to think—”
“Wait.” Stafford’s voice rasped, harsh. His face paled. “What is this part about the astrolabes?” He reached for her copy of the letter, and she handed it to him.
“I thought you didn’t want to read—”
“That was before.” He scanned the letter. His sister had an ancient astrolabe. Grayson had told him his sister was in contact with Merryvale. They were going to meet when she was in Egypt. What did she hope to learn? And was she walking into a trap? Did Merryvale know about Alex’s astrolabe?
“You look worried. You never looked worried.” She grabbed his arm. “What is it, Stafford? Tell me. What is happening? Is my father in danger?”
Samuel handed her back the copy of the letter. Her father was definitely in more danger than she suspected. He wondered if his sister had told her husband why she really wanted to visit Egypt. Alex had a way of not sharing key information. Olivia stared at him, waiting.
“My sister and her husband are traveling in the area. Grayson said they were going to meet up with your father. Apparently, Alex and he have been corresponding.”
“That’s impossible. I would know about it,” Olivia said.
“Like you knew about this?” He indicated the letter in her hand.
Samuel took a seat. He needed to think. His sister had two parts of an ancient astrolabe—the disc that had been their mother’s and the disc given to her on her birth. They believed there were as many as four more discs out in the world. But they didn’t know where, or what they would learn if the device was completed.
He had thought his sister had left the mystery behind her after it nearly got her killed. If the other parts were hidden or being protected, finding them could be dangerous.
Who else knew of his sister’s astrolabe? He thought about it. A handful of people outside their family. Any of them could have mentioned it to others. And what would they do to get it? Killing clearly was not beyond them. And someone obviously thought all the astrolabes were made by this Egyptian and held some significance.
He looked again at Olivia. She was innocent in this, he was sure. But what was Merryvale’s part in acquiring the astrolabes? And could either father or daughter be trusted once they learned what the astrolabes might lead to? Untold power, a lost empire, ancient treasure.
Olivia said she was after knowledge. But it took money to finance tomb raiding, and most who did it were after a bigger payoff—treasure.
“Stafford? You’re scaring me.”
He looked at Olivia, who was waiting and surprisingly patient for a change.
“I think your father is mixed up with some very dangerous people.” He paused to see her reaction. “Either that, or he is one of the dangerous people.”
She gasped. “No. That’s not possible. It’s not. I promise you. He has spent his life in pursuit of knowledge. But he would not injure anyone for it.” She paused. “At least not knowingly. He can be a little absentminded. And maybe naive about people. Those are his worst flaws, I assure you.
“Really? Because it doesn’t sound like he was much of a father.”
Olivia stiffened and he knew he’d touched a nerve.
“He is a wonderful father. I’ve learned everything from him.”
“He left you with a stranger when you were fifteen.”
“Mrs. Tisdale had excellent references, and she was good and kind. My father traveled a lot, but when he was home we spent all our time together.”
“Poring over ancient manuscripts and copying his notes?”
“It was what we enjoyed doing.”
“Really? Because I would have thought you enjoyed a lot more than that. Why hasn’t he ever brought you with him?”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“But safe enough for an absentminded old man.”
“He’s not that old, and as you point out, he is a man. That does make some things easier.”
“Maybe he plans to take credit for your genius. Claim he deciphered the texts himself. A lot of obsessed men seek fame.”
Olivia’s color rose. “You are utterly and completely wrong!”
“It crossed your mind, I see.”
“No!” She stormed for the door. “I shared this with you so you could help me. Not insult me and my father. You are the one hiding something, Stafford. Not me.”
Samuel didn’t move as she slammed out of his cabin. Olivia had a price on her head high enough to tempt the best of souls. If he were smart, he’d take her straight back to England. Only he needed to get to Egypt. His sister might be walking into danger—something she had a habit of doing, it seemed, despite marital bliss. He grabbed a thatch of hair and slowly released it in frustration and worry. And now Olivia was somehow mixed up in it. Hell. He didn’t want to risk Alex’s life or Olivia’s.
Was it possible to protect one willful woman, let alone two?
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia stumbled onto deck bleary-eyed the following day. She had spent the night researching astrolabes in one of Samuel’s books, trying to understand their significance to her father and anyone else.
Astrolabes were used to show how the sky looked at a specific place at a given time. Olivia had thought on it all night. Even if one had a special astrolabe, they would need to know the time and the arrangement of stars in the sky in order to find their location. Without all the information, she was conjecturing without a goal. It made her even more eager to get to her father. Once she saved him, they could get back to answering these questions.
But first they had repairs to make. And she had a full day in Algiers. Stafford was in the longboat when she arrived on deck. She’d donned her disguise but hadn’t bothered with the beard, choosing only the mustache. It already tickled unbearably. In a small valise she had fresh clothes. Stafford had promised her a room at the hotel where the Riedells were staying. She joined the men going ashore, trying not to be concerned that they all looked heavily armed. Nathan would not have taken Elizabeth into port if it were not safe. She intended to see the sights, bathe, and sleep on a real bed.
The men made room for her to sit near their captain. She greeted him as politely as she could.
“Stafford.”
He glanced down expressionless. “Ollie.”
Gads, he was still annoyed over the letter. Well, nothing to be done about that. She turned to one of the other men and greeted him. Only a cursory reply was forthcoming.
“Everyone is a bit tense this morning,” she said.
“It’s not a friendly port, Professor,” a sailor explained.
She looked at the bustling harbor ahead. People seemed too busy to worry. “How do you know that?”
Stafford didn’t turn to look at her. He merely stared out. “The fish are quiet.”
Her mouth made a small O of understanding, even though she didn’t understand. She suffered the silence until they were ashore. Then she was once again running to keep up.
The group was very purposeful.
Olivia waited while Stafford directed one group to get provisions and
another to get supplies to finish repairs. It seemed he wanted to complete the task today. She frowned.
“We sail tonight,” he said. “As soon as the Avenger is ready—at least, mostly ready.”
“But, I thought—”
“Change of plan. Don’t worry. You’ll get your damn bath.” He looked her over. “I’m picking up some gifts. Please remain silent during the negotiation.”
“Of course. I—”
He’d already walked away. She chased after him. And continued to for a good twenty minutes, until they came to a town circle with a mosque. A local carriage driver hurried over, seeming to know Stafford, and soon they were riding to the other side of town. Stafford sat back, apparently relaxed, but his eyes were alert. The crewmen who accompanied them hung on the sides of the vehicle. Olivia tried to enjoy the sights, but the men managed to block her view very effectively.
Finally they got out at the end of a long path that had short, open clay structures—a market, of sorts. Olivia was excited to explore and followed along, taking in her fill of brilliant cloths, strange-sounding chimes, and new exotic faces.
Stafford headed directly to the shop he wanted, ignoring the loud barkers promoting their wares. They entered a darkened shop, covered to keep in the shadows and cooler temperatures. Stafford was greeted with a warm welcome, and Olivia followed, curious as they were brought past other buyers into a back room and given refreshment. She eagerly sipped the peppermint tea, registering every second of the experience to write down later and share with Elizabeth.
The tea was nothing compared to what followed. She gasped.
Stafford turned his head, censorious.
“It’s just … they’re beautiful.” Two intricately woven gold bracelets were laid before them for Stafford to inspect, each about two inches in width. They were not identical but clearly meant to be a set. Then the man brought out a matching necklace. It was a choker with a similar design, only the shopkeeper demonstrated how it wrapped around the neck and clasped in the front, where a length of gold chain hung lower, containing a stunning emerald.
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