Sharing was the last thing he intended.

"Excellent. Excellent. Yes, indeed. Have you determined whose tomb it is?"

"Well, you can see for yourself." She shone her ashlight onto one of the walls, providing no information. He walked around the tomb, pausing for a moment in front of each group of artifacts. Derek came in silently and stood next to her. Vanderschmitt halted nally before the wooden Barque of the Sun, the obvious centerpiece of the antechamber.

"Remarkable," he murmured, delicately touching one of the two gures at the prow with the tip of his nger. It was the gure of Seth. She knew exactly the temptation he felt, the overwhelming urge to pick up the exquisite golden dolls and examine them. She was relieved to see that he did not.

"And have you found the burial chamber?" His glance swept across her like a moving spotlight, to more interesting things.

"No, but we assume it would be here, behind the south wall. I was going to have the men start looking tomorrow. I've been working them pretty hard these last weeks." Her tone remained neutral, cooperative.

Vanderschmitt studied one of the scenes, sweeping his ashlight back and forth over it. "Ah, Pharaoh Bestowing his Gift. Excellent.

We can date the tomb by the identity of the king. Have you found his cartouche? Well, here we are. The kneeling man here appears to be the tomb owner."

Valerie did not reply. Every discovery of his was a negation of her own, every gloating word a theft of her achievement. He was a parasite, consuming her.

He leaned in again to study the text while with his free hand he drew a small automatic camera from the case that hung on his shoulder. "Ah, yes. Here it is." He read laboriously. "'Lord of the two lands, beloved of Ra...Meremptah...bestoweth the gift...upon his servant...'"

* 72 *

Vanderschmitt continued to snap photographs until the lm ran out and he returned the camera to its case. Without looking at her he said, "I shall inform the university and the Egyptian government immediately, of course. However, you will return with me to Cairo. After we have registered the nd with the Department of Antiquities, we will telephone Brussels to discuss the continuation of your assignment." He turned and began to walk up the tunnel toward the surface.

Valerie fell in step with him, and Derek followed close behind.

At the entrance she spoke again, unaffected, cheerful. "Yes, of course.

But at the same time you will surely want the work to continue. While you are in Cairo, I could start the men searching on the rear wall for the hidden entrance. When you return in a few days, you should have your burial chamber."

The new supervisor squinted out at the desert that he had just crossed, obviously weighing risks, bene ts. She could almost hear the questions going back and forth in his head. Could he trust her? She was allowing him to win glory while she did all the work. But did he dare to leave her alone now, after threatening her?

Derek broke the silence, reaching out his hand, man to man, to the academic. "Forgive me, Dr. Vanderschmitt. I am only a guest here and have not yet of cially congratulated you." His voice, Valerie noted, was several notes lower than usual. The handshake, she was willing to bet, was equally virile.

Vanderschmitt looked down through bored eyes. "Who, may I ask, are you?"

"Oh, I am sorry. Derek Ragin. I'm a friend of Dr. Foret. I was performing in Cairo and Dr. Foret invited me to assist in preparing the site for your arrival. I already knew of your work in archaeology, but now, well, what a brilliant discovery you have here. Or will have when you open the burial chamber. You must let me know when the time comes to publicize it in the general media. I could even give you the name of my publicist."

Vanderschmitt stood confused for a moment by the ow of words.

"Eh, thank you, Mr. Ragin. I quite agree. It is a marvelous thing. I had not thought of a publicist. But perhaps you have a point. And of course the search for the sarcophagus should go on while we are in Cairo."

"Uh, well, yes." Derek scratched a spot at the back of his neck.

"But then there is always the risk of theft, isn't there? I mean, I'm sure * 73 *

these men are honest. They should be, at least. But they are also dirt poor. And they'd be all alone out here." He lowered his voice even more and leaned in discreetly. "With priceless artifacts."

Vanderschmitt looked around at the tattered Arab team which stood, somewhat bewildered, waiting for instructions. "I take your point, Mr. Ragin. Well then, Miss Foret, on second thought, it appears prudent to leave you active for a few more days at the excavation. You speak Arabic to the men, I understand. You can explain the transfer of authority while I am gone. Then, when I return, we can discuss the nature of your future involvement."

Valerie tilted her head in feigned deference, even surprise that he could have doubted her. While he gave orders to his dragoman, she watched him reach into his case for his camera and insert another roll of lm. In the open case, she could see a row of lm canisters tucked into elastic loops.

He closed the case and said over his shoulder, "Abdullah, I am changing the schedule. But rst I need you to come back with me into the tomb. We must create a record of the walls and artifacts."

"Would you like us to assist you, Dr. Vanderschmitt?" Valerie asked.

"No. That will not be necessary." The new Head of Excavation waved her away as he descended again into the tomb to have himself photographed.

* 74 *

CHAPTER XI:.

LEAP OF FAITH.

So, what do we do now?" Derek sat down on one of the cots and watched Valerie move about the tent.

"About getting rid of Vanderschmitt and saving my career?" She poured water from a pitcher into a tin basin.

"Getting rid of Vanderschmitt? Well, that would certainly be my rst choice, but I was thinking in more practical terms." He reached for his backpack. "That was a good stall for time out there, by the way."

"Yeah. Thanks for your help, too." She splashed water on her face with a cloth, dabbing carefully around the cut with trembling hands.

"But I don't know what to do when he gets back in two days."

"Uh, actually, I meant, what should we do about the mummy?" He drew out a tiny mending kit from his backpack and held it on his lap. "I mean about Rekemheb."

"About that thing." She dried her face with a cloth and sat down on the camp chair, her foot tapping. She folded her towel and then unfolded it. "I don't know, Derek. I...I'm having doubts." She rolled the towel up from one corner.

"Doubts? How can you have doubts? You spoke to him!" He unbuttoned his shirt.

"Well, no. It's possible that I didn't. I fainted yesterday, remember?

Just after I had a hallucination. And I have a headache that never goes away. I could have some aftereffect from that blow I got at Giza. Not to mention that we were both exhausted."

"What are you saying? That it never happened?"

"I'm saying that I'm a scientist. I believe in brain damage and hallucinations, but I don't believe in ghosts. I can't accept that I talked to a Ka. And his speech. It was too familiar. It sounded almost like...

* 75 *

well, like Flemish. If I was going to create a linguistic delusion, I might use that one." Her voice trailed off.

"Well, I'm an opera singer, and I have no trouble believing in Kas, angels, ghosts, whatever. If it stands in front of you talking, it's real."

He took off his shirt and draped it across his knees.

Valerie stopped rolling her towel. "What are you doing?"

"Mending my shirt. I tore it running after you last night. Why?"

"I just never saw a man with his own sewing kit."

"Valerie, darling. Do you know how many times I've had to repair a torn costume, minutes before going onstage?" He broke off a length of thread and drew it through his lips. "Tho, Ba and Ka are the thame perthon?" Squinting, he poked the moistened thread through the eye of the needle.

"Yes, in the mythology, they're the same person. Just different aspects. There are others, too, his shadow and his light, that dwell in the underworld. All of them depend on his mummy, though. If it's destroyed, they disappear too. According to the mythology."

"So, what will happen to them when Vanderschmitt nds the mummy? I mean, how does that work?" He closed the rip in the shirt elbow and began sewing with tiny stitches round and round. "According to the mythology, I mean."

"I...I hadn't thought of that." She chewed her lip.

"What?" He bit off the remaining thread and dropped the needle back in the mending kit. "Hadn't thought of what?"

"Vanderschmitt doesn't usually do excavations. I don't even think he's ever been in the desert before. He's a forensic Egyptologist."

"Which means-" He stood up and put his shirt on again, admiring his work.

"He dissects mummies."

Derek stopped buttoning. "He'd do that to Rekemheb? But he wouldn't if he met him, his Ka, I mean."

"Vanderschmitt is an arrogant bastard, but he's still a scientist.

Even if he saw what we saw, he'd say the same thing. There is no Ka.

We were suffering from lack of oxygen." She tapped her knuckles on her knee. "And he would dissect the mummy."

"And destroy Rekemheb?" Derek tried to pace, stopped at the tent wall after two steps. "No, no. Out of the question. He asked us to protect him, and we will." He sat down again. "And what about the prophecy?

The 'hundredth generation' thing. We haven't even considered that."

* 76 *

She pressed her forehead into her hands. "Prophecies, on top of everything else. Gods. I feel like I'm in some cheesy movie."

Derek reached over to the pan and splashed some of the water on his own face. "At least he doesn't know about the burial chamber yet.

That buys us some time."

"Time to do what?" She opened her hands as if waiting to catch something.

"Take Rekemheb out of the tomb. His mummy, I mean. Hide it someplace. The tomb doesn't need it! It's full of gold, for God's sake. Your university will have a spectacular nd, and the Egyptian government will have a hoard of treasure. Who's gonna care about one dried-up mummy?"

"Out of the question. Waay out of the question. Moving the mummy without permission is a major offense. A crime. It would end my career."

He sat beside her on the camp bed, which groaned under their combined weights. "Valerie, darling, why are you still trying to be an archaeologist?"

"I am still an archaeologist. We uncover mummies for science and history. We don't steal them. It's not like an opera, in which the tenor makes some grand heroic rescue. It would be pillage, pure and simple.

It would destroy everything I've worked for. And I told you I don't believe in a hereafter."

"First of all, you obviously don't see much opera. The tenor usually dies. As for ruining your career, I think Mr. Vanderschmitt is pretty much on his way to doing that already. You have got to look past your personal ambitions here for a moment." He clasped his hands together. "It's like...like we're the shepherds in the eld seeing the Star of Bethlehem, and you're still worried about the sheep. This..." He gestured toward the excavation pit. "This isn't archaeology anymore.

It's religion!"

She stood up, took a step, and then spun around. "Religion? I'll tell you what I think about religion. I was in chapel once, at school. I saw one of the boys kneeling on the steps near the altar. He was praying, and a beam of sunlight shone down directly on his head, making his hair glow."

"Oh, how beautiful. Like a blessing."

"Yes, that's what he thought. But it was not a blessing. It was sunlight, damn it. Natural sunlight shining through a cleverly placed * 77 *

window. And the boy knew it too, because he kept sliding along on his knees, staying under the light. I watched him for ten minutes as he slid, staging his own benediction. And then it hit me. That's what religion is.

The believer kneeling, praying, begging to a natural thing and calling it God." She turned back and washed her already-clean hands again in the basin.

"I don't know what you're so worked up about, sweetie," Derek said, conciliatory. "I'm not asking you to be baptized again, just to remember that we talked to a ghost. They usually come from somewhere.

Down my way, we call that the hereafter."

"I don't accept the hereafter. For me, life is the earth, an oxygen-and water-rich sphere hanging in space. Living things appear, mature, and die. End of story." She threw back the tent ap and stormed out toward the excavation. At the tomb ramp she halted. "What's going on here?"

Across from her, four men paced slowly, pallbearer-like, bearing a wide wooden plank up the narrow steps from the tomb entrance. Tied to the center of the plank, tottering precariously, the Barque of the Sun rose from the tomb into the light of day. Workers standing on both sides murmured as it caught the sunlight.

"Oua'f! " she shouted to the men. "Stop! What the hell are you doing!" She called toward the foreman at the bottom of the ramp.

"Ahmed. Who told the men to move the artifacts?"

The men halted, and the tiny god- gures wobbled in their slots along the sides of the barque. Something small and curved fell soundlessly to the ground. The foreman hurried toward her with his hands held out. "I am sorry, Dr. Foret. But the other doctor has ordered this."

"Get on with it!" a voice barked from behind the four men. They continued their slow pacing up the ramp toward a table that had just been set up. Vanderschmitt came up behind them. "Ahmed, go back down and stand guard. I don't want anyone near the gold when I am not there."

Valerie moved toward him, both hands open. "What are you doing? Aren't you concerned that the heat will harm the wood? After three thousand years in a cool, dark place?"

"No need to be hysterical, Miss Foret. It is all in good hands now, and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from countermanding * 78 *

my orders. An object of this quality has got to be photographed and documented, a fact which you seem to have overlooked. You cannot possibly have expected to leave such priceless artifacts exposed to this class of Arabs."

"This class?" she felt herself begin to sputter. "I know these men, and-"

"You would be of greater use to this project if you would assist in identifying the objects rather than interfering with my efforts to protect them. You might start by getting a camera and taking more pictures." He took up position at the side of the examining table and peered through the lens of his camera, snapping frequently.

"Do you even know the theological value of this artifact? It's an extraordinary portrayal of the gods of incalculable value. Horus is at the prow, with his brother and adversary Seth right next to him. That's unheard of."

"Yes, yes. Horus and Seth. Of course." He held the camera up to his eye and focused the lens, grimacing.