The Anubis Plague полностью

George opened his eyes and looked around. Seeing that they hadn’t crashed into a fireball of metal and gas, he took a deep breath and released his death grip on the armrests.

“You know,” he said, swallowing, “I’ve never hated flying until now.”

“Oi!” Cork shouted from up front. “It wasn’t that bad!”

George gave Zahra an apologetic look, then spoke up. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to flying in such an—” Cork glared at him in her small rearview mirror, “antiquated machine.” He gave her a false smile. “It’s a very impressive plane.”

Zahra held back a laugh.

“So…” George’s voice was low. His eyes darted to the cockpit. “How did you two meet?”

“Back in the army. Cork, as you’d expect, was a pilot — helicopters back then. After I retired, I found out that Cork also retired and had started doing private charters.”

“And the Cessna?”

Zahra grinned. “Hey, Cork, tell my dad how you acquired your bird!”

“I won it!” Cork replied, laughing. “I bet some cocksure bloat fish that I could beat him in blackjack. If he won, he could have his way with me. Anything he wanted. Anything at all. I’m open for anything as long as it doesn’t involve the Cupid Shuffle.”

Zahra had never seen her father so uncomfortable, and her smile widened.

“But if I won,” Cork continued, patting the dashboard, “I get his wings. Then, when he tried to back out of the deal, I beat him within an inch of his life until he signed it over to me.”

George’s face went white. “That’s interesting…”

Zahra took over the story. “This was back in the service too. She even ripped the cork out of her whiskey bottle and jammed down the pour guy’s throat.”

Her father nodded. “Hence the name.”

“Yep, her real name is—”

“Oi, Zahra! Shut your hole!”

Now, it was Zahra’s turn to shrink back. If there was one thing that Cork didn’t appreciate, it was someone calling her by her birth name.

Zahra leaned in close and shared a hushed giggle with her father. “It’s Gwendolyn.”

“What did you say?” Cork asked, turning and glaring at her.

“Nothing! My dad just asked me, um, ‘when do we land?’” Zahra’s big-eyed expression got a chortle out of her compatriot.

“Good cover.” George congratulated her with a sly smirk.

Zahra’s expression darkened. “Seriously, though, don’t say it out loud. She will throw you out of her plane—”

George stopped himself.

“…and she won’t land it first.”

As reliable as Cork’s Cessna was, its diminutive fuel tank and slow-as-molasses cruise speed made getting to Cairo “in a hurry” impossible. Cork never pushed her plane either, no matter the situation. Even in the face of life or death, like now, splashing down in the Mediterranean was much worse, especially to someone like Cork. The Puss E. Galore was her life, and she’d protect the aircraft as if it were her child. Unfortunately, it meant the Scales of Anubis, and Grant, would get to Egypt far in advance of them.

Zahra checked her watch. They’re probably already there. That fact deflated her a little.

The stopover wasn’t all that bad. Zahra and George were short on provisions and in need of a few things. At least Zahra had her gear with her. She had planned on being gone for days on end. Her father hadn’t been prepared to travel. Zahra had literally dragged him onto the Cessna with only what he was wearing.

Cork set down in a remote airfield on the outskirts of Barcelona. While she went over her plane and gassed-up, the Kanes took a taxi into town for a supply run. Zahra slipped her Glock into the waistband of her jeans, hiding it beneath her black shirt and jacket.

“I am Francisco. Where would you like to go?” the cabbie asked in Spanish.

“Anywhere close by with clothes and food,” Zahra replied, slipping into her third language in the last twelve hours. The feat earned an impressed look from her father.

“That has always amazed me.”

“What has?” Zahra asked.

“The way you can just flip the switch and speak an entirely different language on command with no difficulty.”

Zahra shrugged. “Languages have always been easy for me.”

“Must be a Godsend when you’re in the field.”

“Definitely,” she agreed, yawning.

The four-plus hours of flight time in the slow-moving, cramped aircraft was hitting her hard. The small amount of sleep she had gotten after the night she had endured at the museum was killing her. Her head was pounding behind her sunglasses, and she needed coffee in the worst way. She wasn’t jetlagged per se, but she sure as hell felt like it.

“So…” George said, clearing his throat, “is this how you always travel?”

“No, usually the museum takes care of me.”

“Then why trust a person like Cork?”

Zahra glanced at him. “She’s around when I need to move quickly and stay off the books.”

“Off the books?”

Zahra nodded. “The museum isn’t interested in everything I find. But there are other parties out there that are.”

George’s face dropped. “You work with black-market antiquities dealers?”