If Zahra could describe Wally’s reaction, it would have been one of agony. It looked as if the man’s heart had just been torn out of his chest.
“That is unfortunate to hear,” he replied, handing the photo back to Zahra. She shook her head.
“I want you to have it.”
He nodded his thanks. “Is that all you’ve come to tell me? You could have saved yourself some trouble and called.”
Now, it was really time to bear the real bad news.
“The Scales of Anubis also have the original Book of the Dead.”
“What?” Wally took a step back. “No! How?”
“You, uh, can thank Baahir for that.”
Wally turned and gripped the railing with both hands, squeezing it until the blood drained from his fingers. He took a deep breath and let go.
“Where did he find it?”
“Beneath a golf course in Giza, of all places. The road got taken out by a storm and in the destruction, a hidden temple that houses the scroll was revealed.” Zahra dropped her eyes. “That’s when all hell broke loose. A lot of people have died since then.”
She recited everything that had happened so far.
Wally took it all in and mentally worked it all out. He knew more about this stuff than Zahra — possibly even her father.
“Did you come alone?”
Zahra shook her head. “Dad is with me — not here — but he’s in Port Said.”
“George came along with you? That surprises me.”
Zahra blushed. She had forgotten to mention how her father had joined her. “I sorta dragged him along.”
Wally grinned. “How’d he take it?”
Zahra smiled. “Not well. He’s getting a crash course in how I do things.” The delight faded. “I think he has finally realized that I’m not his little girl anymore.” She crossed her arms. “Will you help us?”
He turned back toward the water, lost in thought. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” He stood tall. “If we don’t stop the Scales of Anubis, millions will die.” Wally locked eyes with Zahra. “Potentially many more.”
Wally pushed away from the rail, crossed the balcony, and opened the door leading back down to the ground floor. Zahra entered and descended the first set of stairs, pausing at the landing. She turned to check on Wally and noticed the limp in his right leg. She had known that he had a limp, but this seemed more extensive. She’d never seem him cringe so much while he was walking. Wally noticed the attention.
“How’s the knee?” Zahra asked.
“Like the rest of me, older. It has good days and bad days.” He snorted. “More bad days as of late.” They kept moving, nearly halfway back to the bottommost level. “Were you ever told how I injured it in the first place?”
Zahra did remember. “A soccer match, right?”
Wally snickered. “I guess you don’t know…” They paused at the middlemost platform, and Zahra placed her hands on her hips. The stance told Wally that they wouldn’t be moving again until he came clean. “It happened the night we got your mother out of the country.”
Both of Zahra’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “What?”
He nodded. “As soon as my men and I got her loaded up, we were ambushed by Ayad’s men — Khaliq’s father’s people.” He flexed the joint. “I was the only survivor, though the bullet left its mark.”
“You were shot?”
“First and only time.” He winced and descended another step. “At the end of the day, we did a good thing — the right thing.” Zahra turned but was stopped. “And yet, here we are, in the same mess that we attempted to prevent all those years ago.” He sighed. “Fate can be cruel, yes?”
Zahra agreed, thinking of everything her family had been through. “It sure can.”
Chapter 57
Baahir
The elevator door slid open to reveal Ifza and the two large men from her brother’s private bar. Baahir watched them pound down the ancient steps and make a beeline straight toward him. At this point, he wasn’t afraid of what they could do to him. Even in the short time being held captive, he was already numb to their threats. He was a realist about death. If Baahir was to die at the hands of these animals, then so be it.
Ifza held up her hand, pausing the two men from ten feet back. She continued forward and waltzed up to Baahir, who was still lying down on this cot, ankles crossed, hands behind his head. If Ifza expected him to jump to his feet so that he could drop on his knees and kiss hers, then she could kiss another part of his anatomy.
“Hi there,” he said, nonchalantly greeting her.
“Come with me,” she said, getting right to it.
Baahir sighed and sat up, and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He looked up into her intense eyes. “What for?”
“I need to show you something,” she grinned. “Trust me.”
Baahir burst out in laughter.
Ifza raised a clenched fist, but held back the punch. Still, Baahir got quiet as soon as the threat had arisen. The fanatic looked amused by Baahir’s reaction, then took a step back to allow Baahir to get to his feet. As soon as he did, Ifza spun away and headed back toward the lift. The two guards didn’t budge an inch until Baahir got moving.
With the pair of hulking men in tow, Baahir swiftly caught up with Ifza, entered the elevator, and watched her press the button to close the door. It was just Baahir and Ifza now. If he wanted to make a break for it, now was the time.
Not that he had a remote chance in hell of defeating the woman in a fight. Even beneath her black thermal, it was plain to see Ifza was well-built. She could easily kick the crap out of Baahir with her eyes closed.
What I wouldn’t give to see her go toe-to-toe with Zahra.
The thought of his sister refilled his emptying gas tank of hope. Grant believed that she was alive, and Baahir needed to trust the young man.
The elevator door slid open. Ifza didn’t move to leave. Instead, she motioned for Baahir to go first.
“First window on the left,” she said.
Baahir took two steps toward the window but stopped when Khaliq joined them from an empty doorway to the right.
And he looked like an Egyptian pharaoh.
“Why are you dressed like that?” Baahir asked, honestly confused by the man’s choice in apparel.
“It is the clothing of a king,” Khaliq replied, deadpan.
“A king?” Baahir asked, confused. “You believe you’re of royal blood?”
Khaliq opened his hands, motioning to the three of them. “We all are. Our lineage proclaims it.”
Baahir shook his head, and placed his hands on his hips, exhausted. “You guys really are something, aren’t you?” He squeezed his fists tight and shouted. “Anubis is a myth! We are not related to him, because he wasn’t real.”
Baahir’s outburst got no reaction out of Khaliq. Ifza, on the other hand, stepped toward him, drawing a pistol as she did.
“Sister, no,” Khaliq turned to face her and held up a hand. “He needs to see.” He faced Baahir. “He needs to believe.”
Baahir refrained from rolling his eyes, but he did as the siblings requested and stepped over to the first window on the left. It was long and rectangular. Baahir felt like a detective on the hidden side of a one-way mirror. But instead of building a case against some two-bit car thief or even a perverted Peeping Tom, Baahir searched for a wastebasket to vomit into. Grant’s condition was unbearable to look at.
But he couldn’t turn away.
Ifza’s phone vibrated. She lifted it, angling the screen so that it could only be read by her and Khaliq. Whatever the message was, it made both of the Ayads smile.
“Proceed,” Khaliq said.