Page 41 of Damaged

I gulp. With a good internet connection, I can. But not from the top of my head. I know that’s not what James wants to hear. “Yes,” I say confidently. “I can do that.”

“Good.”

There are no more words and no hand to rest reassuringly on my leg. Something is bothering him, and I hope it’s not me.

I turn and look out the window to watch the foreign country bustle by.

I’m able to forget about James as I lose myself in where I am. I picture the lives and ancestors of all these people.

This place has so much history, it feels like another planet. The pyramids. Cleopatra. Caesar. Napoléon. There are enormous crocodiles, man-eating lizards the size of small buses, sleeping in the inky black water of the Nile.

But I can’t help but feel like I don’t belong here. Here I am, helping plunder this country of its artifacts. Buying them to resell to filthy rich tech bros. I wonder if this guilt is what has James so quiet, too, but I doubt it.

I have a feeling his mind is on business. I don’t need to hear his philosophy to know that he believes life is about survival of the fittest, not fairness.

So be it. It’s hard to challenge his beliefs when they’ve made him so successful. I know what he’d say—if we weren’t buying these artifacts, they’d simply go to another buyer in Beijing or Bahrain.

I still can’t help but feel dirty. We roll up to the hotel, and I stare out the window like a kid. There’s a fountain two stories high. The top of it is equal height to the bulbous heads of the palms that sway in the breeze.

It’s lit up in golden light along with the white façade of the hotel itself. A half dozen porters take our bags when we park, apparently knowing exactly who we are and where they need to go.

I get out of the car and stand a few feet behind James as who must be the hotel manager comes out and shakes his hand, gives him an envelope, and tells him no request is too much.

I follow James and Brock into the marble lobby, and the three of us walk to the elevators. Once the doors shut and we’re alone, James opens the envelope and hands me my key.

“Brock has been here for two days doing security. The hotel itself is safe, but we might not be once we’re seen leaving Karim’s estate. Foreigners with money are always going to be targets, especially if we’re suspected to have any of the artifacts in our possession.”

The elevator is quick and modern, and we’re already dinging at my floor before I can say anything. I feel like James is JamesBond.

Suspected to have artifacts in our possession.I didn’t realize there was an element of danger to this trip. Of course there is. We’re going to be purchasing millions of dollars’ worth of art in a country that saw a revolution just a decade ago.

I’m sick of being nervous, and my guts twist for the umpteenth time this day.

“We’ll be fine.You’llbe fine.” James clarifies, sensing my nerves. “Get a good night’s sleep. The room service here is no joke, and neither are the Egyptian cotton sheets.”

“Okay. Thank you, James,” I say, stepping out of the elevator. I turn to get one last look at him, but the doors shut quickly. And I’m only able to catch a quick glimpse of those green eyes before they’re gone.

I stay still for a moment and check the number on the card slip—707.

I walk down the hall, find my door, and hold the card against the reader.

Click.Green light, and I’m inside. My bags are already here right by the door, but I didn’t see a porter in the hall and I thought we got here pretty quickly. Impressive.

It’s dark, but I can sense from the sound around me that this is not an average hotel room. There’s a hollowness in the air.The door echoes as it claps shut behind me. I put my hand on the wall and find a switch exactly where I expect to.

I flip it and stand, dumbfounded. The space in front of me is twice the size of my apartment. There’s a full kitchen and a living room recessed into the floor that has a long horseshoe of cushions.

I find my bedroom and see a king mattress with golden sheets and pillowcases. A placard resting on top of it reads:Welcome Sophia.

I’m a little less nervous now. This room must cost thousands a night.

So, this is why people sell out. This view. These sheets. A Michelin star–quality menu on the nightstand. I walk to the window to look out at Cairo.

There are a few sailboats on the river. The water glistens in the many lights of the city. It’s only seven, and my body time is only a handful of hours behind. I’m going to be awake for a while.

I don’t order food. I don’t feel like eating. I pull out my laptop and sit cross-legged on the cushions.

For the next four hours, I hardly move as I dive into Egyptology. The subject is an entire college major and not something I can master in a single night.

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