Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 03 - Cairo Caper

by Barbara Silkstone

  Fiona piped up, “I just had a library flashback.” She shot me a thumbs-up. “Boy I licked his ass!”

  “Kicked. You kicked his ass.”

  Petri helped her stand. She hung from his neck, dangled her tiny booted feet in the air, and kissed him with a sound like a pole being pulled out of mud.

  With a stiff upper lip and Jell-O legs, I stepped over to the smoochers and patted Fiona on the back.

  She jerked her head around. “Did you see me blow that Russian?”

  “Away. You blew him away,” I said.

  “Excuse me… gotta go potty.” She skipped to the loo.

  Petri and I joined Roger as he knelt on the bottom step. He was hanging on to the exit pole, leaning out the door into the moonlight, his face the color of Kermit. But, for Roger, being green was easy. He just had to see blood or, as in this case, be close to something really gory. I caught him just before he keeled over.

  I ruffled his hair. “C’mon, Mister Archaeologist. It’s time to find Cleopatra’s tomb.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Roger’s eyes opened wide and clear. The mention of Cleopatra’s tomb evidently gave him an adrenalin rush.

  “Can you get us there?” His expression sitting on maximum puppy-dog.

  I nodded. “But it would be easier with a black light.”

  Petri dug in his pants. He pulled out a pocket black light and handed it to me. “This should do it. I always carry one.”

  Of course, who doesn’t?

  Fiona returned from the loo. “I still feel a bit woozy. I don’t think I can make that trip into the temple again.” She put her hands together in prayer fashion. “Please, please, please bring me Cleopatra’s Kama Sutra.”

  Petri put his hand on her forehead. “You seem a bit warmish. I shall stay here with you while Roger and Wendy continue their quest.”

  Roger searched in the compartment above the driver’s seat. “Here’s what we need.” He pulled two flashlights out and tested them. “So far, so good. These are a lot better quality than the junk Sputum gave us.”

  Darcy boomed, “Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well.”

  What now? I turned. She stood at the head of the stairs holding Sir Sydney’s corpse by the scruff of his neck with his golf-ball eyes and blue-black version of the Rolling Stones tongue and lips symbol. A sight for bad dreams.

  She dropped him and bounded down the steps, three at a time, skidding to a stop in front of me. “Come, Chariotress, let us hasten to the temple.” She looped her arm through Roger’s. “Antony and I have business to attend.”

  Wow! She switched Antonys like Pony Express riders switched horses. But this wasn’t the same Darcy I’d battled before. She was erratic, unreliable, and spooky.

  Okay, she was the same Darcy, but something happened to her in the embalming pool. Did that something include her finding the Isis half of the medallion? The only way to find out was to play this charade to the end.

  I removed the Camapoo box from my purse and handed it to Fiona. “Take good care of these little guys. They probably need food and water.”

  The bus had moved about twenty feet or so when I lurched it forward. I couldn’t back up to get closer to the entrance because Sputum’s bloody body would be exposed and Roger would pass out. Plus I wasn’t all that keen to see the body myself. So we had to hoof it through about thirty feet of disgusting knee-deep locust guts and barely alive bugs.

  “With haste, Chariotress, with haste,” Darcy said.

  “Forward ho!” Roger chimed in.

  I didn’t know which of them I wanted to pop the most.

  My foot slipped when I stepped off the bus. If I fell in that insect stew I might puke myself to death. I stabbed my high heel into the mess and caught my balance. I didn’t use the flashlight. The moonlight was bright enough. I didn’t want to see more detail than necessary. I slogged to the entrance with a stab-shuffle move that was in no danger of becoming the next dance craze.

  Using our flashlights we made it down the ladder and through the main transversal passage without incident despite a light slippery coating of bug goo which, fortunately, decreased the deeper we went.

  At the top of the third burial shaft, I fished Petri’s black light out of my purse and flicked the beam on the wall. The first dot glowed lavender. I exhaled. The Revlon Forty-Eight Hour Luminescence Lip Stick worked as advertised.

  “Lo and behold,” Darcy said.

  “That shiny stuff, is that lipstick?” Roger asked.

  “It is,” I said, proud of myself.

  “When we get interviewed by National Geographic please don’t mention the lipstick.”

  Dot by dot with the black light shining on the wall and step by step with the flashlights shining on the floor, we made our way into the bowels of the earth.

  The pain of all my injuries increased to agony as I marched on, but not enough to stop me. Roger groaned behind me. He was hurting too, his pain possibly greater than mine. We had pushed our bodies to the limit but the prize of Cleopatra’s tomb was worth it. Darcy hummed The Way We Were.

  The tunnel began to level out. We were getting close. I said to Roger over my shoulder, “Do you think we can find the tomb without the MUDD?”

  “Our only hope is the medallion. Maybe the power of the Osiris half will lead us to the Isis half. A long shot, but better than no shot.”

  I tripped on a crack in the floor and shut up.

  We went around a gentle curve. A faint glow appeared.

  “Hark,” Darcy whisper-shouted. “Yon pool.”

  She vaulted past me and ran through the tunnel without the benefit of a flashlight.

  Roger yelled, “Darcy, stop, wait for us. You’ll fall and hurt yourself.”

  He passed me and followed her as fast as he could in two left shoes while avoiding loose rocks. I tried to catch him but couldn’t keep up.

  The pool came into full view, shimmering and foreboding.

  Darcy turned to face Roger, wavered at the edge, seemingly defying gravity as she leaned backward until her head nearly touched the water then forward till her face almost hit the floor. She elongated and thinned each time.

  Roger was at the entrance to the chamber hopping around on one foot. I thought he had twisted an ankle. I rushed to him to give him a shoulder to lean on.

  “My left-left shoe, get it off. My foot’s on fire.”

  I pulled the shoestring and yanked his wingtip off. It was blistering hot. I dropped it and the medallion fell out. It’s protective case burst into flames. It tumbled toward Darcy who was now translucent and leaning backward over the pool. The medallion separated from its flaming case and bounced to the roof of the cavern then with a screaming-eagle whistle drove straight through Darcy’s heart into the pool.

  In a cloud of steam and water that would have made Old Faithful proud, the Osiris half of the medallion shot back to the roof. A huge chunk of rock broke loose and plummeted toward the pool. Roger and I wrapped our arms around each other and fell back against the cavern wall.

  Spray from the rock crashing into the water covered us. I felt a strangely comforting warmth. All my pains vanished.

  An object glided out of the hole in the ceiling. It floated downward with grace and serenity. It came into focus. It was the Isis half of the medallion. The Osiris half sped toward it. They mated in a crash of thunder and a flash of lightning. The medallion was whole.

  A hurricane force wind howled through the cave. The medallion plunged into Darcy’s body. She expanded to the top of the cave, smoke thin, then swirling into a kaleidoscope of the rainbow spectrum, morphed into a huge distorted image of Antony, then Cleopatra, then Osiris, then Isis.

  The smoky images melded into a long-necked Egyptian cat that sucked down into Darcy’s body, taking all the vapors and smoke with it. But now it was no longer Darcy’s body. She was gone, but the cat was not. Intense yellow eyes stared at me with the medallion in its mouth.

  The cat started to shrink into a mummified s
tate then leaped into the pool. The water geysered to the roof of the chamber and cracks formed. Bright light shined through accompanied by a roar. The cracks widened. The roar got louder. The place was collapsing.

  Chapter Forty

  I grabbed Roger’s hand and turned. My feet felt different. I glanced at them, then Roger’s. Our shoes were normal. I was wearing a matched pair of red Converse sneakers. His right foot had a right brown wingtip on it. The cut over his eye was gone. The scrapes on my hands were healed and I could have sworn I had a French manicure.

  Roger was gazing upward, mesmerized by the light. I yelled, “Run! Now!” and tugged his hand.

  He snapped out of it and hand-in-hand we raced out of the chamber. Rocks in our path rolled out of the way. Bright light coming through the roof cracks reflected into the burial shaft. Rocks continued to roll aside. The roar behind us grew louder. The light, much brighter than our flashlights, stayed with us. My fluorescent lipstick marks pulsed, guiding us, even though the black light was in my purse.

  When we reached the end of the burial shaft and ran into the main transversal passage, the light went out. A second later the roar crescendoed, followed by a ground-shaking explosion, leaving us with total silence and the light from our flashlights.

  I stopped to catch my breath then realized I didn’t need to. I placed my hand on Roger’s chest. His heartbeat and breathing seemed normal. How could that be? We should have been huffing and puffing. I felt surprisingly energized.

  We worked our way through the passage. The going was much slower without the bright light illuminating the way and with the rocks stubbornly not jumping to the side. But speed was not necessary. We were no longer in danger. If we were, the cat would still be shepherding us.

  “Well, Mister World Class Archaeologist, would you like to explain any of this.”

  “Not everything of the ancient world can be explained scientifically.”

  “How about unscientifically?”

  “I think we just saw love conquer all. The medallion is whole and back with Antony and Cleopatra. It can never again be used to attempt to locate their tomb. Their gifts to us for bringing the Osiris half were healing our injuries and escorting us to safety.”

  “As a scientist, you accept that.”

  “Not exactly, but seeing is believing.”

  “Then you won’t laugh again when I tell you that the cat we saw in the pool has been with me and protecting me since I saw the cat mummy exhibit at the museum. The cat saved me in the ladies’ room that day and Sputum said he was attacked by a cat he didn’t see.”

  “How could I laugh at that after what we saw at the embalming pool?”

  The embalming pool. That was surrealistic, impossible to process. But the one reality was Darcy disappearing. She went there with us twice and disappeared twice. “What do you think happened to Darcy?”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll turn up again. I don’t want to see any harm come to her but I want her to stay away. Bad things happen when she’s around.”

  If he thought he wanted her to stay away…

  He gave my booty a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get out of here and find a hotel room with a great shower, a giant bathtub, and room service champagne.”

  That was an offer I couldn’t refuse. I picked up the pace. We were at the base of the ladder in five minutes.

  I tilted my head back. A man holding a machine gun silhouetted against the dawn sky. Damn, we were up the creek without a paddle, gun, ashtray, or mystic cat. I expected a grenade to clatter down at any second.

  “Wendy? Are you okay? Is that Doctor Jolley with you?”

  “Habib? We’ll be right up.”

  Climbing the ladder was much easier with two sneakers. I scampered up faster than a Cirque du Soleil acrobat. I threw my arms around him. “I’ve been so worried. Sputum said you were dead.”

  “It will take a lot more than Sergei Sputum’s half-baked schemes to do me in. And I see he’s no longer a worry. He appears to have died from natural causes, a heart problem, a heart problem possibly induced by his bus running over him, but a heart problem nonetheless. No investigation necessary.”

  I stepped out of his arms and stared at his handsome face. Whatever mild attraction I’d felt in the desert was gone. It must have been the dangerous situation that brought it on.

  Roger clambered out of the hole.

  Habib extended his hand. “The famous archaeologist Roger Jolley. It is a true pleasure to meet you. I am Habib Jones.”

  Roger looked confused. I said, “This is my friend. The one who kidnapped me. The one who was assigned by the Egyptian government to discreetly protect you.”

  He nodded, shook Habib’s hand, and said, “The pleasure is mine.”

  Habib flinched, pulled his hand back, and blew on it. He had a nasty red mark on his pinky finger where my high school ring used to be.

  I said, “What happened there?”

  “I’m not sure. Sputum slipped our surveillance then fired the Dark Force and me since I was his go-between. I knew Sputum had lured Sydney and Dorkovsky to the bus and that you were captives. The Egyptian troops arrived and found the Dark Force attacking. They chased them into the desert. They now have the survivors in custody.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Still the impatient Wendy. The troops were gone so I climbed up here to protect you as I could. A roaring came out of the opening, then an explosion. The ring on my finger disappeared with a flash, leaving me with this.”

  What was the significance of it? Maybe the cat thought more of my feelings than I did. Or maybe the cat knew more about my feelings than I did. Early loves, even those unrecognized, die hard.

  Fiona and Petri trotted up. Both of them hugged us, which felt good to me but probably offended Roger’s British sensibilities.

  Fiona clapped like a seal. “Did you find Cleopatra’s Kama Sutra?”

  Habib asked the question with his eyebrows.

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  Roger threw his hands in the air. “Short story here. We found nothing, but lost everything. The Multi-phasic Unidirectional Density Diviner and the Osiris half of the medallion fell in an embalming pool. Then the chamber collapsed and we were lucky to escape. No medallion, no MUDD, no tomb, no place left to search. My biggest failure as an archaeologist.”

  Hmmm, Roger was finally learning to stretch the truth with a ring of sincerity.

  Another thought hit me. If Habib was in the area when the Dark Force hit the bus, he must have seen Tickemoff. “Do you know a guy named Tickemoff?”

  Habib laughed. “Everybody in Egypt knows Tickemoff. My men picked him up right after he was thrown off the bus. He’s probably running a new scam already.”

  Fiona patted Roger on the shoulder. “Don’t fret, Cleopatra’s Kama Sutra isn’t that important. Petri assures me that the Kama Sutra is for beginners. And we’re going to start a Camapoo website, free shipping worldwide. Petri is a genius and I can’t wait to launch the Ultimate Kama Sutra with Petri as my technical consultant.”

  Petri, being French, didn’t react to Fiona’s less than subtle reference to their future sex life. He smiled and put his arm around her. Was he getting excited? I knew he didn’t have a pistol in his pocket.

  Habib pointed to a camo-painted Humvee parked down the slope from Sputum’s bus, which had a disturbing lump under it. “Dare I say your chariot awaits?” He marched ahead.

  Fiona and Petri fell in behind him, arms wrapped around each other.

  Streaks of orange and magenta sunlight filled the sky. Cleopatra, Antony, the medallion, the cat, especially the cat… It was an incredibly romantic and mystic moment. I put my arm around Roger’s waist. We followed the mini-parade.

  He draped his arm over my shoulder then let it slide till his hand reached my booty. The moment felt so warm and completing. He had to be tuned into the same feeling. I said, “What are you thinking?”

  “About all the amazing th
ings that made up this day.”

  He rubbed my booty and slid his hand deeper, which felt very good.

  “Are you thinking about the cat?” he asked.

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “I was thinking about a little…. a little… never mind, we can talk about it later.” I tucked my head into his shoulder and rubbed his booty.

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for taking the time to read Cairo Caper. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling a friend. There’s no better way for an author to find new readers than by word of mouth, one friend telling another. If you are inclined to write a review that would be wonderful! See you early next year in Miami Mummies - Book Four in the Wendy Darlin series.

  Follow Wendy’s adventures in her Facebook journal:

  Wendy Darlin Tomb Raider

  Wendy and the Lost Boys – Book One in the Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery series

  (Book Two in the Fractured Fairy Tales series)

  Not really the life I envisioned when I promised to look after the criminal miscreant Charlie Hook. When Hook held me, my friend Kit, and archaeologist Roger Jolley hostage on his mega-yacht, I had no choice but to help him recover his ill-gotten treasure as we cruised to Nevis Island in search of the Lost Boys.

  Amazon Kindle link:

  http://viewbook.at/B005FKHKTE

  London Broil – Book Two in the Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery series

  Curry was bubbling on the stove and blood was spilled on the kitchen floor. I kept the London Eye over my shoulder as I ran from Benny Hannah’s London townhouse fearing Idi Amin’s henchmen. The clock was ticking as Roger Jolley and I raced to find the last Lost Boy during a killer heat wave in London.

  http://viewbook.at/B006IH6LHA

  Other books by Barbara Silkstone:

  Wendy and the Lost Boys

  London Broil