Page 77 of The Stolen Queen

They ate in silence for a while.

“What about the Cerulean Queen?” said Annie.

“What about it?”

“Are you still interested in tracking it down?”

“Of course.”

“What if I found something that could help?”

“And what would that be?” asked Charlotte, cutting into her lamb with a knife.

“When we were at Leon’s apartment building, and I had that coughing fit, I didn’t really have a coughing fit.”

Charlotte looked up from her plate. “What do you mean?”

“From where I was standing, I could see a pitcher of water and what looked like a mail room, so I pretended to need water and found the slot for Leon Pitcairn’s mail.” Annie’s heart had pounded like crazy as she rifled through the mail, and she was terrified the landlady might turn around at any moment and catch her.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing. His mail slot was empty.”

“Okay.”

“But the outgoing mail included this.” Annie took an envelope from her lap and placed it on the table. The return address was Leon’s, the mailing address a post office box in Cairo.

Charlotte looked up at her. “You went through the building’s mail?”

“This was the only thing of interest.”

“And you opened it?”

“I think that pales in comparison with smuggling ancient antiquities.”

Charlotte didn’t disagree. She picked it up and pulled out the note, handwritten on Leon’s stationery, and read it out loud: “ ‘I have confirmation that she is in the country, awaiting clearance from customs. Transfer to the unique location has been arranged and you will be notified once she reaches her final destination.—L.’ ”

Annie sat on the edge of her chair, not caring that she was smiling like a lunatic. “ ‘She’ has to refer to the Cerulean Queen. They’re talking about an object, not a person.”

Charlotte studied the note. “Maybe. It doesn’t give us much information.”

“So we go to the police. They can track down the owner of the post office box and arrest them.”

“For what? There’s nothing illegal about this note. They’d take one look at it and think we were mad.”

“We could explain. You’re an important person at the Met, surely you have some influence.”

“I’m not as important as you think. Especially these days. Besides, the first thing they’d want to know is how you got your hands on it. The answer might get you into more trouble than Leon.”

All of Annie’s excitement drained away. “Right. Opening up someone else’s mail.”

“I’m sorry, Annie,” said Charlotte, handing back the letter and envelope. “It’s just not enough.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Charlotte

Luxor Airport at dawn was filled with tourists pouring in from Cairo to see King Tut’s resting place. Charlotte wondered how Frederick was doing with the exhibition preparations. While New York was the sixth and last stop on the tour, it was considered the biggest in terms of draw and excitement. King Tut mania had gripped the United States, and Charlotte couldn’t help worrying about the effect its success would have on the fragile underground resting places in the Valley of the Kings. How many visitors was too many? How much exposure to the wet breaths and the surreptitious touches of tourists was too much?

---