The Curse of the Pharaoh #1 (3 page)

“A
cactus
?!” he blurted.

The girl’s cheeks were flushed. “Not just any cactus!” she exclaimed, in seventh heaven. “A very rare specimen!”

It looked like a squat green gourd bristling with thorns. There was also a small birthday card with a picture of llamas.

“A paralyzing toxin! That
rocks
!” Agatha was overjoyed.

She said a hasty good-bye to the butler and ran to the greenhouse, cactus in hand.

The sun beat down on the structure, which looked like a giant Victorian birdhouse with its white wrought-iron frame and glass panels. Inside, it was stiflingly hot, at least twenty degrees warmer than the hot summer air outside. The air was still, with a fragrance of moondrops and century plant blossoms. Agatha looked around. There were cacti of every size and shape, some round as billiard balls, others tall and lean, their arms raised like gawky scarecrows.

It was a scene straight out of a Wild West movie.

Agatha squinted at the small metal numbers on the planting trays. “Lot 37…Lot 38…here it is, Lot 42!”

Next to a cluster of prickly pears was a bare square of sandy soil, ready for planting. Agatha carefully set down her
petrificus
and went to a nearby hutch for a trowel. On impulse, she also grabbed a guidebook on South American succulents and a second on poisons and antidotes.

You never could tell.

Chandler’s gardening gloves were so huge it was hard to hold on to the trowel. Laughing, she tightened the elastic around both wrists, but they still looked like boxing gloves on her small hands.

Agatha stood stock-still for a moment, staring at the
petrificus
and starting to work out the plot of a book featuring an “apparent death.” Maybe a murderer who staged his own funeral, then returned in secret to take revenge on somebody…

“Ahem,” Chandler cleared his throat. Agatha spun around. For a huge man, his approach was
incredibly quiet. “There would seem to be a slight problem.”

“A problem, Chandler? What sort of a problem?”

“It relates to young Dashiell, Miss.”

“Dash?! What does he want?”

“I believe it would be best if you come take a look, Miss Agatha.”

With a deep sigh, Agatha pulled off her gloves and followed him out of the greenhouse, stopping under a chestnut tree.

Perched on a branch was a homing pigeon, shuffling nervously. He had good reason.

Watson, Agatha’s Siberian cat, was half hidden in the ferns, licking his whiskers.

“Watson! Come here!” Agatha called out.

The cat gave the pigeon a look that said, “Later for you, bud.” Then he wound himself around Agatha’s legs, purring.

Agatha wasn’t impressed. She climbed up the
tree and grabbed hold of the pigeon. Untying the tin cylinder from its leg so Dash would know she’d received his message, she launched the bird into the air, where it flew away with a flurry of wings.

Inside the cylinder was a rolled piece of paper. Agatha was used to surprises, but this was a doozy:

Still in the tree, Agatha looked at her watch. It was just after seven.

“Pack our bags, Chandler!” she shouted, “We’re leaving immediately!”

Chandler didn’t blink. “What sort of climate should we expect, Miss?”

Agatha thought for a split second. “Hot and
dry, like the greenhouse. Linen and cotton shirts, cargo shorts…”

“As you wish, Miss Agatha.”

The butler disappeared into the Mistery Estate, trailed by a hungry Watson.

Agatha shimmied back down the tree trunk and followed them in, going straight to her room. On one wall was a giant family tree, a map of the world notated with the home address, occupation, and relationship of every known member of the Mistery family.

She put her finger on Egypt and found a distant aunt living in Luxor. “Patricia Mistery!” she exclaimed. “Camel breeder!”

Satisfied, she picked up the phone and told Aunt Patricia they were on their way.

Half an hour later, she and Chandler climbed into the limo. Agatha wore khakis and desert boots, and Chandler had on a Hawaiian shirt the
size of a pup tent. He carried two overstuffed suitcases. Agatha carried a gift box containing the toxic
petrificus
(it might come in handy) and Watson’s carrier. As soon as the limo peeled out, she unlatched it, and the Siberian cat curled up on her lap.

They were off! There was only one problem: Would Dash be on time?

A
gatha’s parents were allergic to all normal methods of transportation. They liked parasails, hang gliders, and hot-air balloons for wafting around the English countryside, and when they went overseas, they preferred to travel by donkey cart, broken-down jeep, or vintage steamboat.

“We Misterys are adventurers!” her father would chuckle. “A jumbo jet? Ha! Doesn’t have half the charm of an ocean liner like the
Titanic
!”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Dad, the
Titanic
was sunk by an iceberg,” she would remind him. He’d take a few puffs on his pipe and change the subject.

Agatha loved adventure as much as the next Mistery, but the convenience of modern transportation was a definite plus.

Especially when she was in a hurry.

The limo dodged through London traffic and sped to the airport. Agatha and Chandler found two tickets booked under their names at the VIP check-in desk. Within minutes, they boarded a luxurious Egyptair Boeing 777, nonstop to Luxor. Surrounded by cool air conditioning, they took their seats and placed Watson’s carrier in the seat reserved for Dash.

The Siberian cat was used to flying and was already fast asleep. Agatha buried her nose in a book. She had brought the two volumes on cacti and poisons, along with some guidebooks on Egypt. She began with the book about poisons, looking for more information about her new
Indionigro petrificus
. Chandler shifted around,
trying to make himself comfortable. He was too bulky to fit in his seat and his legs stuck out into the aisle, forcing him to apologize to everyone who tripped over his shoes on their way up the aisle.

They watched as Egyptians and tourists boarded in droves. There were families on summer vacations and young couples going on honeymoons. Soon, the plane was full and the roar of the engines got louder with each passing minute.

“Flight attendants, prepare to depart,” the captain said over the loudspeaker.

Chandler raised his eyebrows. “Where is Dash?” he asked, looking worried.

Agatha twisted around, peering back at the hatch. “He’s arguing with a flight attendant,” she sighed. “Typical!”

They pricked up their ears to listen in.

“I told you, it isn’t a cell phone, so I don’t need to turn it off during takeoff,” Dash was telling a young flight attendant. “It’s a new generation of Nintendo!”

“It’s so small!” she said, frowning suspiciously. “Show me!”

With an impatient snort, Dash unhooked his titanium gadget from the strap of his bag, pressed a button, and handed it to her.

The attendant stared at the flashing screen and seemed to relax. “And it plays
Super Mario
, too?” she asked. “Where can I buy one?”

Dash scooped it out of her hand with impressive dexterity. “It’s kind of a prototype model,” he told her. “It isn’t on sale yet.”

“But…but…”

“So, I can go now, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, Dash strode down the aisle. The fake screen trick had worked perfectly. He felt like a real secret agent.

Agatha waved at him, but he was whistling happily, lost in fantasies of becoming the world’s greatest spyware designer.

“Watch out!” warned his cousin.

“Huh, what?!”

Too late.

Dash didn’t see Chandler’s leg poking into the aisle. He tripped and fell onto the carpet, yelping in pain. Then he started frantically scrabbling
around on the floor, searching under the other passengers’ seats.

“Where is it?!” he screeched. “I can’t find it!”

Agatha tried to calm him. “Find what? Can I help?”

“My EyeNet! It’s gone! So much for our mission.”

So
that
was why he was freaking out.

The EyeNet was the state-of-the-art gadget the Eye International Detective Academy gave to its students. Dash never let his EyeNet out of his sight, and he felt lost without it.

“It fell into Watson’s carrier,” Chandler reassured him.

Dash lunged to retrieve it, forgetting one minor detail: the cat hated his guts.

Sure enough, as soon as he stuck his hand into the case, Watson recognized his scent and chomped down on his finger.

“Owww!” Dash groaned. But at least he’d retrieved his precious gadget, and that was the main thing he cared about. He sank into his seat with a sigh of relief.

“Tough life, this detective gig,” Agatha deadpanned.

“You know it, cousin!”

Moments later, the plane taxied onto the
airstrip and angled up into the sky, piercing the pale London cloud cover. Above it, the sky was a peaceful, clear blue. Time to find out more about Dash’s mission.

“Tell me everything, Agent DM14!” Agatha urged him.

“Oh yeah, right. I nearly forgot…”

“Come on, spill!”

Dash told her about the message he’d gotten from his school that morning. It was his final exam for Investigation Techniques: he had three days to find out who’d stolen an artifact from an archaeological dig in the Valley of the Kings. “It’s some kind of tablet about some mysterious pharaoh,” he added.

“Some kind of tablet? Could you be any less vague?”

“That’s all I know, Agatha!”

“Are you sure?”

Dash ran his hands through his messy hair, looking embarrassed. “Well, I haven’t checked out all the video files yet. I wanted to watch them with you…”