Curse of the Pharaoh: A Brock Stone Adventure

A stout, moon-faced man clad in coveralls gaped at him. He held a broom loosely in one hand. The name Lincoln was stitched on the man’s left breast. Only Jones had left.

“Lord Jesus, it’s true.” Lincoln let his broom fall to the floor, turned, and fled.

Alex looked around for whatever had spooked Lincoln, but he saw nothing. And then he glanced down at his own hooked hand and thought about the pirate flag draped over him. Finally, he understood. He threw back his head and laughed.

“I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but ghost pirate was never one of them.”

He shimmied down an anchor rope to the ground. He paused to listen, then headed toward the exit. He was just around the corner from the atrium and the main entryway when he heard voices speaking in sharp, hushed tones. He peered around the corner and spotted Magda Fischer talking to John Kane.

“…don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Fischer said.

“That reporter gave you a false name,” Kane snapped. “She’s really called Trinity Paige, and she’s trouble.”

“Why would she lie to me?”

“I don’t know, but I mean to find out.” Kane signaled to some of his goon squad, and they headed for the door.

Alex wouldn’t be getting out that way any time soon. He ducked through a door marked PRIVATE. To his relief, it was an office with a window. He was about to climb through when he heard Kane and Fischer talking.

“He didn’t take the canopic jars,” Fischer said. There was a long pause before she spoke again. “The heart of the Night Queen.”

Alex frowned. Had he heard that correctly?

“They’re useless unless we know where we’re going,” Kane said.

Fischer said something in a placating voice, and then Kane spoke again.

“What’s the situation, Max? Did you catch him?”

“No, Mister Kane. We lost him.”

Kane uttered a curse.

“Did you get a look at him?” Fischer asked.

“He was tall, skinny, and pale, with red hair. And he had a hook where his left hand should be.”

“And the reporter?” Kane asked.

“She and the girl from the Bureau drove away. Artie went after them.”

“They were all in on this together?” Kane swore again. “Is there any good news?”

“A small piece. Literally.” Max sounded nervous.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The red-haired man discovered a paper hidden in a secret compartment inside Orion’s cane. It tore when we tried to take it from him. We have a piece of it.”

“What is this? Some sort of riddle?” Kane said. “Here Magda, see what you can make of it.”

Alex kept a small pencil and notepad in his pocket for those moments he had an idea or insight he didn’t want to forget. He took them out and scribbled down Fischer’s words.

“In the eye of the Star

Established in Strength and Wisdom

Within the pontiff’s great temple

Beneath the seat of Apollo”

The words were followed by a series of numbers which Alex jotted down.

“We’re going to need the rest of the paper,” Fischer said.

“I think I can help there,” Kane said. “Miss Paige works for the Washington Scribe. I’ll send some men to have a talk with her.”

The way he said the word ‘talk’ chilled Alex to the bone. He needed to find Trinity and warn her right away. He clambered out the window and closed it behind him. Ten seconds later, he was on the street-jJust in time to see a sleek, black convertible come roaring up the grass strip that lay between the museum and the Smithsonian Castle. Trinity was at the wheel, Constance in the passenger seat.

“That’s my car.”

A black limousine was giving chase. Farther down the way, Kane’s thug Artie was limping along, swearing and shaking his fist. Shocked tourists poured across the street to give him a wide berth.

Alex’s shoulders sagged.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

7 Just in Time

Alex watched as Trinity turned onto the grass and headed in the direction of the Smithsonian Castle. The convertible fishtailed and skidded as it shot along the manicured lawn. The limousine followed.

Alex sprinted out onto the mall, aiming to cut them off. He waved his arms, but Trinity and Constance took no notice. To them, he must have looked like another angry pedestrian. They zipped past him in a shiny black blur.

The limousine was closing in on them. A pistol appeared out the driver’s side window. The driver leveled it at the fleeing DeSoto. Alex did the only thing he could think of. He took aim with his hook and fired.

It was a perfectly aimed shot. It knocked the pistol out of the driver’s hand. Unfortunately, the hook caught on the door handle.

“Uh oh.”

Alex was yanked off his feet and dragged across the soft grass. The Desoto skidded into a hairpin turn in front of the castle and headed back in the direction of the museum. The limousine driver made a wide turn and Alex slid in a wide arc. He fought to free himself, but he had designed the hook too well. It held tight.