Page 91 of The Stolen Queen

“You used your mother’s shop assistant to funnel stolen items into the country,” said Charlotte. “How are you surprised she got caught up in the police raid?”

The confusion and fear on Heba’s face finally made sense. She might have wondered what Charlotte and Annie were up to after they showed her the photo of the man she knew as Darius, and lied because she didn’t trust them. But she had no idea that her daughter was part of Ma’at.

“I have to go. Consider your file destroyed.” Mona spun on her heel but came to a sharp halt as Mr. Fantoni and his security team, along with Frederick and Mr. Lavigne, streamed out of the Temple of Dendur. At the same time, uniformed police officers stepped out from where they’d been posted at each gallery exit.

One policeman handcuffed Mona as another read her her rights. “The police are currently searching the Upper East Side apartment you share with your husband, the importer/exporter named Karim Salah,” said Mr. Fantoni. “Karim is in the process of being arrested in Munich, where we believe he’s been surveying another museum for a possible hit.”

“My mother?” Mona cried. “How is she? Where is she?”

The transformation of Mona from a haughty, overconfident Upper East Side matron into a panicked, frightened daughter was suddenand shocking. While she might love her mother, her single-minded zeal had brought them both down.

Mona swiveled her head around as the police began to lead her away. “Wait a minute. You want to find your daughter? I know where she is.”

“You do?” Charlotte stepped toward her. “Where?”

Mona gave her a dark look and spit on the floor. “I’ll never tell. You go after my mother? This is what you get in return. And to think she was right under your nose.”

“Please. What are you saying?”

She smirked, as if enjoying a private joke. “It will be a cold day in hell when I tell you. Very, very cold.”

Mona’s laugh echoed off the walls as she was led away.

After the arrest, Mr. Lavigne, Frederick, and Mr. Fantoni congratulated Charlotte for a job well done and she insisted they extend the same courtesy to Annie. “I couldn’t have accomplished any of this without Annie Jenkins,” she said, and they made a point of shaking Annie’s hand as well. On their way out, at the information desk in the Great Hall, Charlotte asked for an interoffice memo and placed the slides of the faded hieroglyphs from Hathorkare’s tomb inside, along with a note to her conservator friend Helen. “It’s worth a try,” she said to Annie with a shrug.

Outside the Met, the air smelled like snow and Annie shivered in her windbreaker, already missing the desert warmth of Egypt. Neither she nor Charlotte had been home yet—not that Annie had a home—and it felt odd to be parting after the roller coaster of the past few days. She didn’t want to have to say goodbye just yet.

“Do you think Mona really knows where Layla is? Or that sheisLayla? She said, ‘Right under your nose.’ Does that mean herself?”

Charlotte hugged her arms to her chest. “I have no idea anymore. I wouldn’t put it past her to lie in order to torture me. In the end, only Henry can tell me the truth. If sheisMona, I’ll be relieved that she’s alive, but bereft at who she turned out to be.”

“So you’re going to try to find Henry?”

“Yes. I have to find out what happened, hear his side of the story. I’ll head to Switzerland as soon as I’ve had time to go home and repack.”

Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew watery.

Annie had gotten what she was after by going to Egypt, and she should be bursting with excitement that she’d helped track down the Cerulean Queen and bring the thief to justice. But she wasn’t, because Charlotte had come away empty-handed, with even more questions than she had when she’d started.

“I’m happy to come to Switzerland with you,” offered Annie. “We make a good team, and you might need someone around to divert bad guys with broken perfume bottles.”

Charlotte pulled Annie into a deep hug. “I have to do this on my own,” she whispered into her ear. “You understand, don’t you?”

Now they were both crying. “Of course I do.”

Chapter Thirty

Charlotte

At home, Mark was careful with Charlotte at first, holding her like she might break, but then they got coffee and sat in the living room and she told him everything she’d learned, everything she and Annie had done, and by the end of her story he kissed her hand and told Charlotte how proud he was of her. When she added that she now had to go to Switzerland to find Henry, he insisted on coming along.

She changed the subject. “How is Lori?”

“Well, she didn’t get the soap opera,” said Mark. “But she did land a national commercial for toothpaste, which apparently, after it airs, will bring in some ‘serious dough,’ as she called it.”

“That’s great news.”

“Yes. So you can have your office back, finally.”

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