Page 83 of The Stolen Queen

“You’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“I’m going to reach out to Tenny, ask if he knows anyone here I should talk to regarding Henry. Maybe one of his associates can help.” Charlotte looked out into the street. “That’s weird.”

Annie followed her gaze. A couple of women walked down the sidewalk, holding shopping baskets. “What?”

“A man came around the corner and saw me, and then suddenly turned around and disappeared.”

“Maybe he forgot his wallet at home.”

“It’s just that I think I noticed him earlier today as well. As we went into the hospital.”

Annie pictured her attacker at the Met, the way his eyes bulged as he came at her, and shivered. “Was he tall, with dark hair?”

Charlotte pulled her gaze away from the street and rubbed her eyes. “That describes pretty much most of the men in Cairo. I’m tired, that’s all. It’s making me paranoid.”

The mangoes arrived, and Annie bit into a slice, wiping the juice off her chin with her napkin. “What happens to the mummy now?”

“She’ll be put on display here in Cairo.”

“Does that bother you?”

“I do feel protective of her, somehow.” Charlotte fiddled with her silverware. “I mean, is it right to stick her in a display case where the general public can wander by and ogle her? People who have no idea who she is, who are just satisfying their morbid desire to see a dead body?”

“I totally get that. But I meant would you prefer to have her at the Met?”

“Of course, if only for the research possibilities. But there’s no way that’s going to happen, even if it is a superior institution.”

“I think she’d rather be with all her mummy friends here in Egypt,” said Annie.

Charlotte laughed. “You raised some good points earlier, and a lot of museums are asking themselves the same questions these days, including the Met. Is the goal deaccession—sending everything back to its country of origin, no matter what—or is it better for aninstitution like the Met to hold on to the object and keep it safe? What if it gets sold by the country of origin to raise money—which happens all the time—and is placed in the private collection of some millionaire, where it’s lost to both the public and academia?”

“But who are you to say that you know what’s best? Not you, specifically—the Met, I mean,” Annie added quickly. “What about the works of art stolen by the Nazis during World War II?”

“What about them?”

“Do the investigators who are tracking down the original owners or their descendants question the ability of those people to properly take care of the paintings?”

“Of course not.”

“So why should museums make that kind of judgment call?”

Charlotte sat back in her chair. “I used to think the way you do, when I was younger. And now, to be honest, you’re making me question my current position.” She didn’t seem upset, just thoughtful.

Annie had impressed Charlotte. She tried to play it cool, like she had this kind of back-and-forth every day. “Maybe Hathorkare would have preferred to have been left in the tomb.” The woman was royalty, after all, and now, as Charlotte had brought up, she’d be gawked at like some exotic animal in the zoo, people filing by before heading to the gift shop to buy a postcard. “I know it’s a huge discovery and all, but a part of me feels bad, like I was the reason for all this. I hope she doesn’t curse me.”

“I promise, you’re not cursed. You were amazing.”

“It’s the first time my klutziness paid off, I guess.”

“We were a great team, Annie. Thank you for all that.”

“ ‘Were’? Don’t we still have work to do?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No. You’re getting on a plane tomorrow and going back to New York. Our work here is done. Or, rather,yourwork is.”

Panic shot through Annie. Right when everything was looking up, Charlotte was going to send her home? “But we only just got here. Are you going back as well?”

“No. I need to try to find Henry. I can’t give up just yet.”

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