Chapter One
August 1945 in the Valley of the Kings, Egypt
Moaning as she regained
consciousness, Chloe raised her head and twisted it from side to side,
struggling to understand. Where was she? A jolt of searing pain in her upper
right arm brought her focus back to the job. When she had signed on to become a
United States Secret Service Agent in the counterfeiting division, they had
neglected to mention all of the occupational hazards. She had quickly learned
the missions providing an adrenaline rush always seemed to be accompanied by
physical pain.
As she cleared her mind, she
realized it was sometime after midnight inside an ancient tomb. On the dusty
earthen floor next to her, Grover Cleveland seemed to glare ominously from the
bloody thousand dollar bill stuck to a mummy’s severed arm.
Grabbing the three-thousand
year old limb for leverage, she struggled to stand as she allowed her eyes to
adjust to the flicker from a stubby red candle on the floor of the burial
chamber. Oh God, no. Who desecrated this
mummy?
Chloe remembered tripping down
some wooden stairs and grunting on a landing. As she clambered up, two men
appeared at the top of the steps and chased after her. She scurried down,
rounded three corners and squeezed into a small breech in an earthen wall. Did I lose them? No, they must’ve knocked me
out cold. But my head doesn’t really hurt. Did they make their getaway or are
they lurking, waiting to finish me off after they interrogate me?
What’s that smell? I know that smell. From where? She
closed her eyes tight. Remembering a winter night. A white fur coat and Bill…Hundred Dollar Bill. The printing room
at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing in Washington. The woman up on the
catwalk. The flash. Six shots ringing out, the last one louder. The silhouette
blowing smoke from the gun. The lithe shadow sashaying into blackness. Her
lavender French perfume which commingled with hair lacquer and cigarette smoke.
Bill’s assailant…his wife loomed there. Is
here somewhere now.
Chloe you’re delusional. What would his American wife be doing
in Egypt? Ha ha ha. Good one, Chloe girl.
She staggered over to the
candle and grabbed it. A bead of hot wax dripped onto her ring finger. She drew
in a short breath. Carefully cradling
the mummy’s arm, realizing how sacred it was, she approached the three open
stone coffins within the chamber. A female corpse had flowing red hair and a
bent left arm. A black-haired male had his hands crossed at his groin. The
third was a bald, one-armed female. Shivering at the sight, Chloe brooded over
her mission and strategy. She gently replaced the arm on the mummy closest to
her. Mummy! Yuk. It appeared to fit. Staring
at the thousand dollar bill, her mind kicked into analytical gear.
Chloe examined the ancient
corpse. Double ear piercings. Tight banding around the forehead where the
headdress would have been. No trace of hair whatsoever. Bent right arm. Henna
on the long fingernails. Fingers curled in, as if gripping a scepter, which
some evil tomb robber had probably helped himself to. This mummy was a royal
woman and was in bad shape. Her mouth and chest had been bashed in on the left
side. Right arm ripped off. Hacked off. Chloe’s stomach contracted as the bile
churned. What kind of people could do such a heinous deed? The bad guys could. But who were the bad guys? Two of them
surprised me in the upper burial chamber. One or both no doubt responsible for…
She grabbed the wound in her
right arm. Her fingers slipped in the
coagulated blood. Pain shot up her arm,
all the way to her teeth.
I’ve been shot!
Anger seethed through her. Great. I’m going to die. Alone in a creepy
crypt. But wait. I’m not dying yet. I’m up and about. The bleeding seems to
have stopped. So it’s either a flesh
wound or else the bullet is lodged in my arm. Fine. Take it like a big girl,
Chloe. You’re the one who volunteered to jump right on into the boots of one of
our boys at war. You are an American and you will see this mission though. The
fire of her resolve manifested itself in the nerve endings of her wound.
Chloe flinched and stumbled
backward as a cat pounced from a stone ledge onto the mummy’s chest. Larger
than most cats she’d ever seen. Tawny yellow-gray fur, a long tapering tail and
striped markings. A Sand Cat. It kneaded and dug into the bandages before
circling three times, nesting in the chest or what was left of it inside the
shreds of black, tan and red burial wrappings.
Now that is just wrong.
“Here kitty. Nice kitty.” She
held her fingers to its nose. The cat sniffed and turned away. Not even a lick.
Chloe petted and stroked the shaggy soft fur.
“Come on kitty. Come on girl. Come
out of the coffin. Out you go.” Gently tugging on the cat near the back of its
neck, it wouldn’t budge.
Dates. I have some dates left. Where is my bag? Chloe
spun around until she spied it near the hole in the wall where she’d penetrated
the chamber. The cat kept an eye on Chloe as she shoved her arm into the
tapestry carpet bag and fished out a date. “Here you go kitty.” Chloe offered the sticky
sweet fruit. Allowing the cat one lick before pulling the date away, “No, no,
no girl. I guess you’re a girl. Let’s play fetch.” Chloe tossed the date on top of her bag. The
cat leapt after it, with a piece of currency stuck to its tail.
Chloe petted the feline as it
licked the date and even gave her one scratchy lick of thanks on her hand. Swishing back and forth, the tail betokened
gratitude.
Hmm… A U.S. thousand dollar bill. She
removed it from the tail. These haven’t
been minted since 1936. Well, isn’t that a coincidence. That’s just the date on
here.
Trying hard to examine the bill
for authenticity in the dim candle light, it appeared real enough. She rubbed
her fingers over a tacky patch. What was making the bills sticky? Taking the
candle back to the stone coffin, Chloe shoved her left arm inside, cringing,
feeling around. The brittle bandages crinkled. Or was that the currency?
Peering inside, she found a
stash of thousand dollar bills. Chloe dashed over and coaxed the cat off of her
bag, more or less yanking it out from underneath the animal. She stuffed it
with the cash, filling it one third full. Feeling around the bottom of the
sarcophagus, her ring bumped something metallic and clanked. Her wedding ring. She smiled and remembered the National
Cathedral where Momma had walked her down the aisle. It still seemed like a
dream. Did it really happen?
Chloe sighed. Her whirlwind
action-adventure romance had culminated in marriage to fellow agent, Mike
Taurus. In the picture dictionary of life under the listing for man was his
photograph. Perfect in every way, except when he opened his mouth and said
something completely inappropriate. What a mouth. Firm lips. Slightly crooked
two front teeth. Hot probing tongue. The world’s best kisser. Oh Mike. I wish you were here on this
mission with me.
The cat meowed three times. Chloe
turned to see the fur standing up along its spine. It must sense danger. Chloe spun around, but saw nothing. She returned
her attention to the coffin and dug deep, running her fingers over the metal. They
had to be plates. Plates to print currency. Shazam.
Holding the dwindling candle between
the mummy’s legs, she verified her deduction. Her stomach settled and she smiled.
Chloe gasped and nearly dropped
the candle as the cat pounced on the mummy’s face. Hissing and with fur
bristled up on its arched back, the agitated creature leapt across the three
sarcophaguses, onto her carpet bag and then circled back to retrace her route. Conspiring
voices from elsewhere in the tomb loomed in the distance. Speaking English.
Relieved she didn’t set the
mummy on fire, her pulse raced while she scanned the chamber for a weapon. She
hurriedly dug through her bag and extracted her revolver.
Now what? Think Chloe, think. “All mighty God, forgive me and
be with me.” She reached into the next
gritty stone coffin, grabbed the mummy’s straight right arm, closed her eyes
and yanked. Oh did that hurt. Then pain in her arm shot both ways, up to her
brain and stinging into her fingertips.
She focused on her disgusting
task. Eww…just like trying to carve the
leg off of an over-baked dried out chicken. Like the one she’d ruined for
Uncle Edmund’s wake. That incident was why Daddy had insisted she get her
degree in Home Economics.
Chloe waved her hands in the
air, shaking off the disgusting creepy task she was performing. Her injured arm
screamed in pain. Tears of agony ran down her face as she likened it to the
pain this mummy might be feeling in the afterlife, having his arm ripped off. Inhaling
the stale air, she looked up at the low stone ceiling and prayed, “And all
mighty God of the sun and whoever else these poor old people believed in, whom
so ever is guarding this tomb, please, please, please, forgive me.”
She tugged and twisted until
the limb finally snapped off. Opening her eyes, she blinked and sneezed as dust
flew. Dust and dead bugs and mummified flesh. Shoot! She had to unwind the bandages to get the arm loose. Eww! Ancient flesh and bones. Stop looking
at me! Why did they have to perform an eye and mouth opening ceremony after
they’d prepared the mummies? They’re all watching me do these horrible things
to them. Tears trickled down her dusty face. She shuddered. Good grief, she
was desecrating a pharaoh.
Somehow, she had to focus on
this task and convince herself she wasn’t actually tomb robbing, abusing a
corpse and touching a dead person. This was just another day at the office…out
in the field. Just doing her routine job in a routine way. Concealing the
identity of this royal mummy, in order to protect her. What was left of her. And
in the process, desecrating the mummy’s boyfriend here next to her. Great, just
great. Now two spirits can’t rest in peace and enjoy the afterlife.
Shaking off the spine-chilling
assignment, literally by shaking her head, Chloe positioned the straight arm on
the mummy with the bashed in face and the sarcophagus full of dough. If her
research and hunches happened to be correct, these were the remains of a very
important royal mummy. A pharaoh. A lady pharaoh. How divine. Wow. Chloe felt
humbled in her presence. And more determined to protect the mummy and see that
the counterfeiters were prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
As she placed the bent right
arm in her carpet bag, the cat somersaulted into it. Fine. Come along. Together they squeezed through the two foot
breech in the earthen wall and into main chamber of the tomb. The air wasn’t as
dusty, but it sure was muggy and hot. Who’s great idea was it to traipse off on
a counterfeiting caper in the Egyptian dessert in August? Orpha’s. Well, yeah,
Orpha had volunteered for this mission, but Chloe had been drafted because the
brass knew she had minored in Egyptology.
Breathless, Chloe scurried up
the wooden stairs in the tight passageway, pushing the wall with her left hand,
painfully hugging the carpet bag handles and candle with her right. Zigzagging
through the ancient passages, she suspected the eyes on the hieroglyphics
loomed judging her. As she briefly read the simple curses, she realized they
were dooming her to be eaten by a crocodile, hippopotamus and then a rhinoceros.
Yet some of the characters bespoke to urge her onward, as if history depended
on her to complete this chapter. If circumstances had been different, Chloe
would have loved to have lingered and examined the hieroglyphics. Maybe even
buy an animal symbol necklace thingy at the gift shop. What do they call those?
Take photographs with her Brownie camera. Mug and pose and what a fun honeymoon
this would be. Mike…
Chloe forged onward and upward
as fast as she could. When the main entrance of the tomb spit her into the
black Egyptian night, she extinguished the flame. Climbing the steep steps, she
gasped for breath before making a sharp right at the top. She huffed her way
through the sand hurrying toward the thunder of approaching hooves. Chloe
stifled a scream as a camel rounded the next corner in her path.
U.S. Secret Service Agent Orpha
Livingston thumped the camel with a stick, forcing him to his knees. Chloe
grimaced at the camel’s body odor as she handed the carpet bag to her partner
and then hiked her gauze dress up, grabbed onto the saddle blanket and hoisted
herself astride the beast. “Boy am I glad to see you, Orpha.”
“You too, clover-girl.”
As soon as Chloe was seated,
she grabbed the bag and hugged it to her middle, smashing it between her and
the driver. It screamed a meow as they stole away through the desert.
Orpha flinched and looked over
her shoulder at the bag. “What have you got in there?”
“Later. Let’s get out of here!”
Clasping the carpet bag between herself and the jockey, Chloe balanced by
digging her fingers around the belt on Orpha’s dress. The woman’s slim waist
didn’t leave much room for margin.
As the camel proceeded into the
indigo night, Chloe’s heart pounded, nearly as much as her arm stung. Please let it just be a graze. I can’t get a
bullet dug out now. No time. I should have departed yesterday. She tried to
pacify and convince herself she could indeed still make it back to Washington
in time. Well she’d just have to. There was no alternative.
In an effort to calm down, she
breathed in deeply though her nose and held it as long as possible, then blew
it out through her mouth. Inhaling so
deeply of Orpha’s wig-top incense cone was nearly drugging. Orpha had gone a
little overboard buying this black braided wig with an incense pot on top. Royal
women wore these back in the days of real pharaohs. Orpha always had been a sucker
for costumes.
Chloe’s nostrils separated out
frankincense, eucalyptus and what was that other scent? Marijuana? That’s just about right. I’ll not only be late
for my mission, I’ll be arrested and thrown in jail on drug charges. Still, perhaps the marijuana could ease my
pain. Chloe lifted her nose and inhaled as closely to the cone as possible.
Pressing against the jockey, she mashed the carpet bag between them, sending
out a mew of protest from the Sand cat. “Sorry kitty.”
What am I going to do with this cat? I’ve always wanted a cat. A
companion. Better than a dog. You don’t have to walk it.
Once they rounded a bend in the
hot windy night, Chloe reached up with her left hand, mesmerized by the heady
incense. In an attempt to crook the cone downward slightly for a greedy whiff,
she inadvertently knocked it from her partner’s head. Chloe flailed as Orpha
caught her with one hand and slowed the camel down.
“What the heck are you doing,
Clover?” she demanded.
“Sorry.”
“That wig cost me my last six chocolate
bars.” Orpha sounded hurt.
“I’ll buy you a hot fudge
sundae when we get home. I’m so sorry. And I’ll pay for a shampoo and dryer set
at Mabel’s.”
Holding firmly to her
colleague’s saffron silk belt for the rest of the journey, Chloe’s mind
returned to fantasizing about having a cat. Keeping a cat. This cat. An Egyptian cat. I’ll call her Cleo. For Cleopatra. Maybe Patra? Pat? Patty? Paddycake… She
drew in a deep sigh. Good old Paddycake. Paddy
Grogan, proprietor of Paddycake’s Bakery in Miami Beach. Her room upstairs. The
chocolate frosted yeast raised doughnuts and his infamous cinnamon sugar wiggle
worms were to die for… She shivered.
Babies did die for. Hundred Dollar Bill
poisoned them. She wept for her twins. They say grief gets easier with
time, but she really couldn’t imagine a day would go by when she wouldn’t ache
for her unfathomable loss.
Tears stung the kohl makeup
into her eyes. She tightened her grip on Orpha’s belt and buried her head in
the back of her dress, sobbing.
Orpha abruptly halted the camel.
She twisted around to face Chloe. “What’s the matter, honey?” After prying her
friend’s fingers out of her belt, Orpha dismounted. She reached for Chloe’s
hand. “Come on down and talk to me.”
Chloe let herself fall into
Orpha’s arms, depositing both them and the carpet bag onto the hard-trodden,
gritty sand path.
Chloe screamed and grabbed her
right arm. Orpha rolled over on top of her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been shot. My babies are
dead. I botched the mission. I’m no good at anything.”
“You’ve been shot? Where? Who
shot you? Why didn’t you tell me?” She kissed her friend’s forehead. “Honey, I
know it’s only been a few months since your miscarriage. But please believe me.
The ache will get easier as time passes. You’ll always miss them, but you must
go on with your life.”
No stars dared twinkle. No moon
shone down. Only blackness. Evil foretold.
Orpha crawled toward the sound
of the camel breathing and groped around inside her saddle bag. A beam of dim
light returned to Chloe, in the form of an Army flashlight.
“Clover, you’re bleeding. Your
arm. Where else were you shot? Who did it?” She yanked down the sleeve on
Chloe’s dress, exposing her shoulder and upper arm to examine the wound. Orpha slipped
her fingers underneath Chloe’s arm and twisted it around to get a good look.
Chloe shoved her away with a
shriek of pain. “Don’t touch me!”
“There’s no exit wound. I’ve
got to dig the bullet out.”
“No! Are you crazy? Absolutely
not! You are no doctor!”
“Well at the very least I have
to close the wound.” She returned to her saddle bag and fished out her Army Air
Corps Nurse’s kitbag.
“Don’t even think about it. I’m
fine.” Chloe snapped at her friend. The tears in her voice betrayed her brave
words.
“You’re fine? Then why are you
writhing around in the sand, blubbering, shrieking and generally making a mess
of yourself?”
The cat emerged from the
tattered bag and pounced on Chloe’s stomach. She paced up and down the length
of her torso, licking her nose, turning to swish it with her tail and then
kneading her paws into Chloe’s belly before curling into a ball. Chloe
concentrated on the cat’s purring as Orpha positioned the flashlight beam,
propping it on the carpet bag to illuminate the surgical field.
Chloe jerked upright and
screamed from the sting of alcohol as Orpha sterilized the area.
“Sorry honey.” Orpha firmly
shoved her patient back down.
“You are going to give me a
bullet to bite on, right?”
“You don’t need a bullet,
Clover. You already have one, remember? Now you’ll feel a little sting…and
burn.”
A little sting and burn…more
like blinding pain as Orpha injected the area with a local anesthetic.
“Again a little sting and
burn.” She moved the syringe to an adjacent area.
“Could you have used a duller
needle? Sheesh! What are you giving me? Procaine?” Chloe dipped her head to the
left and tried to wipe her eyes and nose on her dress.
“I wish. Ran out of that the
first week here.”
“Well what is it? Camel spit?”
“Cocaine.”
Chloe tried to concentrate on
the cat’s purring. She still hadn’t named her. Cleopatra and all its nicknames
were unsuitable. Sphinx? Nah. Egypt? Phff.
Valley? Valley of the Kings. Yeah right. Here kitty kitty. Here Valley of
the Kings. Why did it have to be kings
anyhow? Women were just as effective leaders. Queen. Queenie. Nefertiti. The
wife of Pharaoh Akhenaten. Rumored to have assumed his role as Pharaoh upon her
husband’s death. Husband. What a glorious word. Mike. Chloe smiled.
“Do you feel this, Clover?”
“What?”
“Do you feel anything?” Orpha
poked around the edges of the wound with a needle.
“No. What do you think of Nefertiti for a name?”
“You’re changing your name to
Nefertiti?”
“No, naming the cat.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Nobody. She just jumped right
into my carpet bag.”
“Well you can’t keep her.”
“Why not?” Chloe asked
defensively.
“She obviously belongs to
somebody. Look how big she is, my gawd she’s well fed.”
“She’s mine now and you can’t
take her away from me.”
“Easy now, Clover. You know I wouldn’t
do that. I just don’t want you to be surprised if she runs home.
Chloe could feel tugging as her
friend sutured the wound. “Are you doing layers?”
“I can’t. You won’t let me dig
the bullet out.”
“You don’t know how to dig a
bullet out.”
“I’ve watched plenty and
assisted the Army docs.”
“Yes, but all you have
experience in is closing.”
“Not anymore.”
“What do you mean by not
anymore?”
She handed Chloe the bullet.
“You promised you wouldn’t dig
this out!”
Orpha tied off the last suture
and clipped it. “It was right under the
epidermis. Easy as pie with my little tweezers. I couldn’t leave it inside. The
risk of anaerobic bacterial infection is too dangerous. No gangrene on my
watch, Clover.”
Relieved, Chloe changed the subject. “Mike’s
cute, don’t you think?”
“Sure,” Orpha agreed.
“You really didn’t get a chance
to meet properly at our wedding. We’ll have you over for dinner. Lots.”
Orpha tied a bandage over the
wound. “I didn’t know you could cook. What kind of food?”
“Country food. Southern cooking.
Fried chicken, greens, butter beans, corn pone, mashed potatoes and gravy
you’ll be talking about for weeks.”
“Count me in. But where are you
living now? Where did you and Mike set up housekeeping?”
Good question. Make Believe
Island was their little hideaway. Primitive and isolated. Oh wait. That was
just a safe house on an assignment. Owned by Uncle Sam. Shoot. Somebody else is
probably there now.
“Mike said he’d find us a real
home while I’m gone. I’m sure it will be small and cozy and just big enough for
the two of us.”
“You are so lucky to have a
husband. Me, I’m destined to be an old maid. That’s why I have a career you
know.”
“What?”
“I learned early on what men
want and I just don’t have a pretty face and big bazoomas.”
“Hush. Men don’t want that. Well,
yes, they do, but not for a wife. Just the shallow men. The high-quality
husbands want personality. Good clean girls they can trust and count on. Sweet
girls with a capitol S.”
“Even if that is true, it’s
obvious I’m glaringly lacking in the personality department. I’m boring as a
boulder.”
“Orpha, stop that. You’re one
of the funnest girls I know. Well just look at you. Who else would be skulking
around in Egypt, in the black of night, galloping on a camel, sewing up a
bullet hole in the middle of the sand? Gee, think of all the adventures you’ve
had. You are a very sweet, kind woman too. Caring and you placed your country
before your own happiness and safety.”
Orpha poured alcohol over the hypodermic and
wiped it with gauze. “Sorry I don’t have
any antibiotics for you. I’d slather some honey on it to try to ward off
infection, but with those sutures, I’m afraid they’ll pull right out when you
change the dressing. Keep it dry for forty-eight hours and then change the
bandages after every bath.”
Honey. Hmm…maybe that was the substance sticking to the
counterfeit thousands.
Orpha wiped down the forceps
then packed the unused portion of gauze in her saddle bag. She kicked sand over the bloody swabs.
Chloe rose to her feet and
snatched the flashlight. “I don’t know about leaving that stuff here.”
“I don’t see any medical waste
receptacles on the date palms, Clover. What do you propose we do? I can’t risk
taking them and getting caught.”
“Why not? You’re here as a
nurse.”
Orpha snorted. “Yes. And they’d
want to know just who I sewed up and why I was carrying the bloody mess with
me.”
“Good point.”
Chloe opened her carpet bag and
awkwardly placed the cat inside with her left hand. It stepped inside willingly.
She hoped she hadn’t been too rough with it.
Orpha said, “Here, give that to
me.” She hooked the two leather handles around the rear saddle horn, draping
the bag over the sitting camel’s rear end.
Feeling some euphoric
properties of the anesthetic, Chloe giggled as she placed the back of her hand
near the camel’s big nostrils. It sniffed and spit on her. How rude. She wiped the spit off onto the top of the animal’s
bristly skull and then climbed aboard.
Orpha jockeyed herself into
position and coaxed-commanded the camel to stand, by knocking its knees with a
wooden stick. Holding tight to Orpha’s belt, feeling the saddle horn digging
into her hind parts, Chloe clutched tight as the camel swayed up and down back
and forth as it rose, holding on for dear life. The cat mewed. Chloe turned her
head. “Ouch!” It’s okay kitty. Nefertiti. We’re safe. You’ll be fine, girl… Orpha
what did you do to me? Sew my arm ligaments to my neck? It hurts like Hades to
move. But I can’t feel my arm. And I do have a pretty good buzz going.”
“Sorry, Clover. You’ll have to
take it easy for the next seven to ten days. Try not to use your right arm. Limit
any reaching or yanking movements. Whatever you do, don’t try to pick up
anything heavy with that arm.”
“No problem. I’ll be traveling
anyhow. I’ll carry my bag with my left hand.”
The camel found its rough and
jerky cadence as it lighted through the sand.
“I am so sorry I knocked your
incense cone and wig off.”
“Yeah I’m sorry about that too.
The marijuana might’ve eased your pain.”
Chloe gingerly shook her head,
giggling. She marveled at the cultural differences. Here they were. Two young
women out in the middle of the night alone and they had been inhaling an
illegal drug. Illegal in their homeland. But it was perfectly acceptable in
this context. Actually it was part of their cover.
Undercover agents for the
United States Secret Service. On the
trail of counterfeiters. A far cry from the life she’d led in Shrew, North
Carolina.
The thunder of hoof beats
approached from the north. Orpha fought to keep the camel under control as it
stumbled into a crow-hop. Nefertiti meowed and Chloe screamed as she was thrown.
A chariot arrived.
