Siren's Secret (21 page)

“It will take a lot more than this.”

“That’s for you, sir. I’ll bring my own men and make sure yours are compensated for as long as needed to achieve our goals.”

“Really?” Hugh was skeptical. “What was it you said you wanted?”

“I didn’t say. But it’s nothing that will be of value to you. I work for a very enthusiastic and powerful collector who is willing to make this worthwhile.”

Hugh pushed his chair back on two legs, relaxing his feet against the table. “My current expenses are substantial.”

“So is my funding.”

Hugh dropped his feet and the chair crashed to the floor. He opened the bag of coin and counted it, while Moreau looked on, amused.

It was too easy by far. What kind of man brought you this much money for so little in return? A desperate one or a very confident one. Either was dangerous. Whatever the man was involved in, it was definitely not on the right side of the law.

Hugh picked up his drink, swishing it in the glass before swallowing in one gulp. He was tempted to take the money and run. But he had enough enemies. And he’d come so far. Everything he had was invested in the tomb. He was certain there was some worthwhile treasure in the area Merryvale wanted them to shut down.

Damn. He was definitely in the center of a mess with nowhere to go but forward. He poured another drink for himself, then a second for Moreau.

“I’m willing to discuss terms.”

Moreau lifted his glass with a satisfied smile and drank its contents down.

Hugh wasn’t a fanciful man, but something about the twisted smirk that passed as Moreau’s smile gave him pause.

He was getting into bed with a devil. He only hoped it was a devil who could deliver the goods.

Later that evening, after they had safely set sail from Algiers, Olivia assembled her friends in the chart room and presented the ancient artifact.

“Careful,” she said reverently. “It’s over two thousand years old.”

Stafford raised a brow. “You recently used this two-thousand-year-old artifact to beat a man.”

“He was three times my weight, and he nearly pulverized you, Stafford.”

“Pulverized
is a bit strong,” Stafford said. He shifted in his seat, cringing from his injured ribs. “Actually, I feel quite refreshed from today’s exercise.” The others laughed. “Now, let us see this piece of rock you risked all our lives and limbs for.”

Olivia scowled. Then she apologized. “I’m sorry I put you in danger, Stafford. Of course, I knew you were up to the challenge or I wouldn’t have risked it. And, Elizabeth …” She smiled. It felt strange to call her chaperone by her given name. “I didn’t know they would come after you in London, but you met Mr. Riedell, so it all turned out for the good, don’t you agree?”

The happy couple smiled at her, forgiving. “All is well. Though I wouldn’t have minded one more night in a hotel,” Elizabeth said, reaching a hand over to her husband.

“Yes, yes. But look!” Olivia held up the funerary cone, triumphant. “This is a night for celebrating!”

She put the cone down just as quickly, closing her eyes at a sudden sensation. She laughed and took a breath of air, explaining. “Dizzy.” Without touching the cone, she continued. “I have made another discovery.” She pulled an iron nail from her pocket and displayed it.

“Filthy,” Elizabeth said.

“Yes,” Olivia agreed. “But look.” She held it to the star side of the cone, and the nail visibly attached itself.

“It’s magnetized,” Riedell said.

She pulled the nail free and put it at the end of the table. “Many Egyptians believed magnets had qualities that can affect the body, even cure ailments.” Could that be what caused her uneasiness when she touched the cone? A magnetic force upsetting her equilibrium? “But I think the librarian, being an architect and engineer, used the magnetic force inside the stone as a means to lock and unlock elements inside the tomb. That is why the men on the expedition need the cone.”

“Why did no one notice before?” Riedell asked.

“I don’t know. When they were collecting, some things were sent back to England by type. So the cone was sent with several others. It wasn’t until they got back to that tomb and tried to enter that they realized there was something unique.

“The magnetic rock is actually inside the granite and strongest at the star side, which is slightly obscured by the indentation. This symbol is engraved on the magnet portion. It a fabulous piece of work. Ingenious.”

Stafford took the granite cone from her and inspected it.

Olivia poured the celebratory toast. “Here we go then, a bit of the good stuff for you, Stafford, and the new couple and me.” She put the bottle of rum down as Stafford examined the cone at the star-shaped end. “From what we know, the shape is most unusual. There is no logical purpose for it, unless it was a new device to help the cone fit more firmly in place,” Olivia conjectured.

Stafford suddenly looked a bit ill. Maybe the cone had a similar effect on him?

“It’s an uncommon symbol,” Olivia went on. “I’m not sure if it was a personal icon or remnants from another ancient language altogether.”

She reached to ease the cone from Stafford’s hands, but he wouldn’t release it. “Stafford, perhaps you should sit. Are your ribs aching? I am so sorry. Had I known giants came in twos I would have never … well, I would have, I just would have warned you sooner.” She really did feel bad about it.

“Captain, you are looking a bit odd,” Mr. Riedell said.

“You said, Ollie, that your father and Grayson believed this librarian made a collection of astrolabes?”

“What?” Mr. Riedell asked. He sounded tense.

Olivia nodded slowly. The two men clearly knew something she didn’t.

“What about the myth you deciphered? The one you said was outside the tomb.”

Olivia swallowed the worry in her throat. She didn’t like the look on Stafford’s face. “It’s common in every culture to have stories like that. Praises to the gods.”

“Tell us.”

“It seemed like a creation story. Again, all cultures have them. This one felt less Egyptian, but ancient Alexandria was a mix of cultures and had a large Greek influence, so likely there was a blending of mythologies at some point.” Olivia lifted her small cup of rum. “Shall we enjoy this now, before you tell me there is some new disaster to befall us?”

The men shot down their drinks and waited, leaving Elizabeth and Olivia to catch up. Olivia choked a bit, put her cup down, and continued. “Well, there was a god, sort of a mother of the sea. The water often represents women and birth or rebirth …” They nodded as if knowing that. Fine. Nothing worse than a know-it-all when you’re telling a story.

“Well, there was a mother who had a great kingdom and divided it between her two children. It was a time of great wealth and peace. Until, as in many myths, the children fought, and one sought the help of another god to conquer the other. They succeeded. Only, the balance that had existed was now gone. The mother returned and, disappointed with her children, sent the oceans to destroy the realm, until such a time that balance might return to earth.”

Stafford nodded. “The goddess’s name is Lilith.” He handed the cone to Mr. Riedell to confirm. “It’s an ancient story. Some believe it’s true and want to find the lost realm and all the riches believed to remain.”

Mr. Riedell looked at the symbol in the star that Stafford showed him. He had an expression of awe and worry. Elizabeth leaned in and observed.

Olivia studied Stafford. “Did you know about this when Grayson asked you to carry the message to my father?”

“I knew the story of Lilith. I didn’t know there was any link to Grayson or your father.” He took the granite object and set it on the table. “Or to this librarian you are so interested in.”

Olivia nodded thoughtfully. “When I told you about the astrolabe, you thought it curious. You suspected something then.”

Stafford poured a small sip of rum in each of their cups. “It seemed a strange coincidence.”

“In what way?” Olivia had a dozen questions.

Stafford shrugged. For the first time in their acquaintance she realized he was about to lie to her. “I have seen an astrolabe once with this symbol.”

“Uh-huh.” She turned to Mr. Riedell. “Have you seen this astrolabe?”

He didn’t answer.

Olivia leaned forward, stern. “Whatever the mystery, hiding important information is not going to help, gentleman.”

Stafford lifted his cup and shot down the liquid. “It’s the only way to protect the innocent.”

“Impossible!” She slammed her palm down on the table. “Stafford, knowledge is truth. If this librarian made the astrolabe you speak of, it’s an important piece of history that should be studied by those who can understand it.”

“And what if those people unlock its secrets and use them to gain power and riches?”

Olivia shook her head. “It’s a navigational device. Surely no one believes there is a lost realm and that my librarian holds the secret to its location.”

The room was silent.

“Gads,” Olivia huffed. “Where is Andersen? I need a man of science.” Stafford was not telling her the whole story, and it was damned annoying.

She lifted the cone and showed them the round end with the writing. “It says this is the wise leader of the grand library. Sage to Ptolemy the Sixth, and king’s astronomer. This part”—she pointed—“is a list of other talents. Mathematician, alchemist, inventor, and architect.”

“Very accomplished,” Elizabeth noted.

“Indeed.” Olivia made eye contact with them. “Do you think a person of such esteem, knowledge, and wisdom would believe in such foolishness, let alone build a device to prove it?”

“I think people write their own epitaphs,” Stafford said.

“But you said the story outside the tomb indicates a belief—” Mr. Riedell pointed out.

“Of course! But in a polytheistic religion,” Olivia said. “Perhaps they believed the gods once roamed the earth. That is not uncommon in Greek or Egyptian mythologies, but to my knowledge, there is no proof …”

“Ollie,” Stafford said.

He spoke softly. It got her attention.

“The problem is not whether it’s true. It is who believes it is true and what will they do to find and control an ancient treasure.”

Olivia stopped her rant. He was right. “But who are
they?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “But
they
have a lot of money behind them. Enough to put a price on your head—not to kill you, but to capture you. And the most likely reason is that they know it’s you, not your father, who can understand this.” He lifted the funerary cone to display the collection of hieroglyphics. “You’re talented, valuable, and the closer you get to that tomb, the more
grave
the danger.”

Olivia paled. “Truly, Stafford. You have a clever way of putting a damper on a celebration.” She poured another drink, raised her cup, and drank—this time without coughing. “If this is truly the situation, then I have much more to learn than I realized.”

Stafford’s brow lifted. “That seems impossible.”

“I’m referring to loading a gun,” Olivia said, determined. “Knowledge is power.”

Knowledge is everything.
She would not be used by anyone. And if her librarian was hiding the secret to an ancient treasure, she intended to find out why.

The winds on the Mediterranean were uneven, but overall good for spring, according to Andersen and the rest of the crew. She had gotten to know the crewmen better, asking questions about their homelands and discovering new places to put on her adventuring list. Not everyone was American, but most were. They made America sound very beautiful, which provoked her to ask why they were so eager to leave it. It seemed Stafford paid well, and they wanted the opportunity to follow their own dreams someday. It was something Olivia understood. People could be trapped by so many social and economic constraints.

Since Elizabeth’s marriage, Olivia spent most of her evenings alone in the chart room, reading. Nathan was off duty at this time, and his cabin, which Olivia and Elizabeth had taken over, was the only place for the new couple to share precious private time.

Olivia didn’t mind the chart room. There was a large cushioned chair that she often fell asleep in and by morning she always woke up in her bed. Magically, it seemed. Usually, Elizabeth woke her and guided her to their cabin, though she dreamed once or twice that Stafford carried her to bed. And kissed her forehead. Or stroked her hair. It was a nice dream, if unwelcome, and comforted her as they sailed closer to Alexandria. She grew more anxious each day.

Andersen had wrapped Stafford’s ribs after their outing in Algiers. Samuel said it wasn’t too bad. Likely just some minor cracks. She felt a little guilty about that, but at least they’d all made it safely back to the ship, and when you adventured, there were bound to be casualties, she told him. He grunted.

She made it up to him by being entertaining. They played word games, which she always won. And chess, which he always won. Though to be fair, she had never played before. They shared some stories of their childhoods, though his was much more interesting and funny and endearing. She told him about her love of ancient Egypt and how she had figured out how to understand the language of ancient Egypt. That story had impressed him. He agreed she should be world renowned for that. But he might have just been saying that. The more he healed, the more distant he became.

She studied the funerary cone for additional properties but found none that could explain her unusual reaction to the stone—that strange dizzy sensation.

She sighed, looking out at the landscape, a landscape at once new and familiar. Familiar because of her father’s descriptions, she reminded herself.

She had been spending more and more time thinking about her father and what awaited her in Egypt. Truthfully, she would have liked Stafford by her side when dealing with it. But he was merely dropping her off.

She’d had over a week to get accustomed to the idea. Best for all if she let go easily.

He might make sure her belongings were secured at the Royal Garden Hotel, but beyond that they were through. Which was why his avoidance of her made her restless. He should be making the most of their final days. Even if there was no kissing, they were friends … of sorts. She sighed, looking over the rail. It suddenly seemed too much effort to keep her spine straight and shoulders back. She slumped and hung against the side, watching the coastline. It was beautiful in the morning sun. Gold against gold.