Page 157 of Eternal Surrender

“The thieves who stole the mummy led us to Sovereign.”

“And Sovereign led us here.”

“It’s all connected. But how?” Ingrid slid her phone back into her pocket. “I have to get over to the museum.” She looked thoughtful. “Very often a clue presents itself as an intuitive lead.”

“Via Harrods,” I said.

She frowned.

“I need a new shirt,” I explained and then leaned back, wondering why Ingrid was fiddling with my clerical collar.

She eased out the white dog collar and tucked it into her coat pocket. “There.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Escorted by the young male curator, Ingrid and I strolled down the well-lit endless corridors of the British Museum’s underbelly, admiring the artifacts, stealing glimpses at some pieces that may never be viewed by the public and taking in others that had been replaced by more alluring sights.

When the curator opened the door to the examination room the scent of ammonia hit us.

Lucas Azir was already here, having agreed to meet us, and was predictably in the middle of an intense conversation with the museum’s senior scientist Dr. Amy Hanson.

Other than the row of mummified cats lined up along the back wall shelf, the laboratory was simple; decked out in chrome and well lit. Laying in the center of the room upon an examination table was our man of the hour, the newly returned mummy.

Dr. Hanson barely acknowledged us. “There are discrepancies between the dates.” She peered over her silver lenses at Lucas. “Manchester’s results attributed the bones to at least 1000 BC and yet the cloth was estimated at 380 AD.”

“It was assumed to be an older shroud.” Lucas threw us a welcoming gesture.

“Radiocarbon dating has come a long way since 1979.” Hanson peeled back the thin mesh covering the mummy and took a moment as though running through a checklist in her mind.

Lucas approached me, explaining, “We’re discussing an old case of my father’s.”

“It’s an honor to finally meet you, Professor Azir,” Hanson said. “Your father’s work was extraordinary.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Lucas gave a slight bow which might have seemed out of place given his age of twenty-seven, but his Egyptian heritage excused such a gentlemanly gesture.

Hanson peered over at Ingrid. “Professor Azir’s father was a renowned Egyptologist. But that’s why I imagine you invited him.”

Ingrid hid it well that she didn’t know about Lucas’s father.

Hanson glanced down at the body. “Apparently you’re not the one I should be thanking for returning our friend here.”

“He just turned up this evening?” Ingrid asked.

“The guard was doing his rounds,” Hanson said, “and reported that at 7:15 p.m. the case was empty and at 7:25 p.m. Hornub was back in it. Our guard saw nothing.”

“Your cameras might have caught something this time?” Ingrid made it a question.

Hanson sighed, frustrated. “Same camera interference, apparently.” She turned her attention back to Lucas. “Your father’s work is impressive. Big shoes to fill.” She nudged her spectacles up her nose. “Did he really only work at night?”

“The desert sun is cooler,” Lucas said. “Tourists are asleep. Only the most dedicated assistants are willing to toil during the late hours.”

I wondered if this was his tried and tested speech delivered on so many other occasions to excuse his nocturnal existence. He wasn’t recounting his father’s triumph, but his own. Sharing that he had personally toiled on Egyptian soil, untouched by time, would sound like an impossible claim.

Lucas turned his attention on Ingrid to take it off himself. “Those are real cat mummies.”

Ingrid neared them. “Seriously. What’s with that?”

“I agree,” said Lucas. “Around 332 BC, cats were also mummified.”