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contain herself. ‘But if Imhotep – or Ophiuchus, or whatever he’s calling himself today– never died –’
    ‘So far, there has been no mention of a body.’
    Tye felt a tingle up her spine in the silence that followed.
    But Con still wasn’t ready to be convinced. ‘Maybe they did find one, but they’re keeping it quiet,’ she argued.
    ‘Why would they? Don’t you see, girl? Imhotep left Egypt to become Ophiuchus. He faked his own death and stored away his possessions.’ Tye could tell Demnos wasn’t just hoping. He was utterly convinced. ‘This mastaba must be a kind of strongroom, a place for secrets.’
    Tye nodded. ‘And you think another copy of the full prescription could be inside?’
    ‘Perhaps. That is what
you
must discover.’
    ‘Because even if only fragments remain, they could still complete the parchment,’ Con realised. ‘For you – or for Samraj.’
    ‘I
must
know how much of the prescription she possesses. Any ingredient, any clue could be vital. And I imagine that, like me, she will be moving swiftly.’ Demnos mopped his forehead again and checked his gold wristwatch. ‘Now, you must excuse me. Yianna – my daughter – she needs me. She is very frail.’
    ‘She’s beautiful,’ said Tye.
    ‘The image of her mother.’ Demnos lowered his face and crossed himself. ‘Now I must rejoin her, see that she is all right.’
    ‘Of course,’ said Coldhardt smoothly. ‘We’ve detained you long enough.’
    The big man pulled out a crisp white envelope frominside his jacket and placed it on the curator’s desk. ‘A downpayment. I have already provided you with the details of the mastaba’s location. I wish to hear of your success within three days. Do not disappoint me, Mr Coldhardt.’ With that, he nodded at his bodyguard to join him, and both left the room without another word.
    The second he left, Con pounced on the envelope and started to purr. Coldhardt held out a hand for it while turning to Tye. ‘Well?’
    ‘Good, steady eye contact, no fidgeting … Faced us the whole time, his posture was good. Didn’t cover his mouth, no real elaboration …’
    ‘He was sweating like a pig,’ said Con, pouting as she surrendered the envelope.
    ‘But he didn’t try to hide it. He’s a big man, it’s warm in here.’ Tye shrugged. ‘I think he was telling the truth. At least, he
believes
it’s the truth.’
    ‘Then he is seriously deluded,’ Con retorted. ‘But a madman’s money is as good as anyone else’s, yes?’
    ‘I don’t believe he’s mad,’ said Coldhardt, tucking the envelope away without bothering to check its contents. ‘He’s just very well informed.’
    ‘Who by?’
    ‘By
whom
.’ Coldhardt smiled wanly. ‘You’ll travel to Cairo first thing tomorrow morning. In the meantime, shall we enjoy the party a little longer?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Con without hesitation, flinging open the door.
    ‘Why not?’ Tye muttered, feeling her blisters burn beneath the elegant strap of her shoe.
    But she found Coldhardt had paused just outsidethe door. At the end of the corridor, the woman in green was deep in conversation with an attentive couple.
    Coldhardt held a polite hand over his mouth and cleared his throat noisily.
    The woman looked up, saw him and excused herself brusquely.
    ‘Nathaniel,’ she said, her tongue lingering over the word as she leaned in to press a kiss on each cheek. The accent of her English was heavy, as exotic as her dark, glittering eyes. ‘I thought I spied you earlier.’
    ‘Good evening, Samraj.’
    Con and Tye exchanged startled looks. So
this
was Demnos’s rival. Their opponent. Their target.
    ‘Allow me to introduce my niece, Constance, and her friend –’
    ‘You’ve acted unwisely, Nathaniel,’ said Samraj, ignoring both Tye and Con completely. ‘Been terribly irresponsible.’
    ‘I have?’
    A light danced in her eyes. ‘Leaving an old friend to mix with bores all night when you could have been entertaining me