Lady of Heaven (8 page)

“About what?”

“Your
great-grandmother was on to something.”

Morgan stared at
him a long moment. “And what was that?”

He sighed again
and sat forward. The glasses went back on and he began to read. “
’Isis, Lady
of Heaven, Favored of The Gods, may she be given eternal life by the Gods whom
love her. May she find peace within the bosom of the Most High, from the Claw
of the Apes, ten days as the sun sets to the Holy City of Ranthor which lies
deep to the east in the arms of the Syene, to the Fingers that Reach to the
Sky. May she know grace and divine protection, our Holy Mistress, foremost Lady
of the West, as she Rests in the Shelter of the Sun
.’”

Morgan digested
the words as he pulled off his glasses and looked at her.  She looked at him,
rather awe-struck. “That’s almost exactly what says in the journal.”

“I know.”

“Then the dealer
who translated it did it right.”

“Yes, he did.”

She blinked,
surprised, and sat back in her chair. “It definitely sounds like clues or a map
of some sort. Doesn’t it? It sounds like directions.”

“It does.”

“Do any of those
places sound familiar to you?”

He wriggled his
eyebrow, gazing back at the papyrus. Then he held out his hand to her. She
looked at the outstretched hand, not knowing what else to do but take it.  He
gripped her hand warmly and shook it.

“Congratulations,”
he said quietly. “You have officially made a contribution to the field of
Egyptology.”

“I have?” she
said, still shaking his hand. “What for?”

He smiled at
her, kissing her hand and still holding it. “Because Ranthor has only been
mentioned once in all known Egyptian writings, in a document known as the
Dendera Papyrus, alluding to the city where the Gods lived during pre-dynastic
times in a period called the Reign of the Gods. It’s literally the founding
city of ancient Egypt. I’ve never heard of it or seen it written of again until
now.  Your great-grandmother’s papyrus will go down in history as The Sherburn
Papyrus, a key in the further discovery of pre-dynastic studies.”

A timid smile
spread across her face and her free hand covered her mouth, emotional.  Tears
glimmered in her eyes.

“Really?” she
breathed.

He nodded,
kissing the back of her hand again. “Really?”

Her smiled
broadened as she looked to the papyrus, the odd ancient symbols that had meant
so much to her great-grandmother. “Well,” she sniffled. “If that’s really true,
then can you please call it The Frances Sherburn Papyrus? I think my great-grandmother
would like that.”

He nodded.
“Absolutely,” he said softly. “She will get all the credit.”

He let go of her
hand and began to rummage through his notes. She watched him, her gaze moving
between the journal, his notes and the papyrus.

“So now what?”
she asked softly.

He shrugged. “I
will return to the museum and talk to the Board of Directors to see what we can
do about purchasing the papyrus and that old sarcophagus from the Sherborn
family. Like I told you last night, your great-grandparents collected enough
artifacts that you can keep Heaven’s Gate solvent for many years to come.”

Morgan looked at
him as if he had lost his mind. She pushed the coffee aside. “You can have the
papyrus when I’m done with it,” she said flatly. “I’m not finished with it.”

He looked up at
her. “What more do you want to do with it? You said you wanted it translated
and I have done that. What more could you want?”

She lifted a
well-shaped eyebrow. “You said my grandmother knew what she had,” she pointed
out. “Don’t you remember what I told you? I believe that Fanny was killed
because of that papyrus. Now here’s where it gets tricky; the dealer who
translated it knew what she had, too. The papyrus gives clues, like pieces to a
puzzle. In fact, the dealer apparently agreed to help them put the puzzle
together. I believe, based on what she wrote in her journal, that she tried to
follow those clues and was killed because of it. Maybe it was the dealer who
killed her; who knows? I explained this when I went to the museum yesterday.”

He was watching
her quite calmly. “I know,” he said. “And you wanted me to translate the
papyrus. I’ve done that, which has confirmed that it does indeed sound like
clues to a tomb. So I’ll ask you the question again; what more do you want to
do?”

Morgan put her
hands on her hips. “Now I go to Egypt,” she said. “I’m going to follow the same
trail that Fanny did and hopefully find what happened to her.  Even if I don’t,
I’m going to follow those clues and find what’s at the end of it.  If she died for
it like I think she did, then I’m going to finish what she started.”

He digested her
declaration. “I respect and appreciate your passion,” he said evenly. “But just
how are you going to put these clues together? And what makes you think that
you’ll survive the trip if Fanny didn’t?”

She cocked her
head at him. “Don’t forget that I’m trained to put clues together,” she pointed
out. “I’ll find people who can help me, like you did. And I’ll survive it
because I have what Fanny didn’t – a gun and various other weapons at my
disposal. I’ll make it.”

He took his
glasses off. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart
attack.”

He held her gaze
a moment longer before exhaling sharply and looking to the notes in front of
him.  He scratched his dark head thoughtfully. “Like I said,” he said
carefully. “I appreciate your passion. I understand you feel you need to
vindicate your great-grandmother somehow. But honestly, Morgan, what do you
truly expect to find? Your great-grandmother’s grave? Her body? Her killer if
there is one? I’ve heard of cold cases, but this is pretty far-fetched.”

She was quiet a
moment; the sun was just starting to rise and a faint glow was beginning to
emit from the edges of the heavy curtain pulled over the enormous library
window.  Rubbing her arms in the chill of the room, she went over to the window
and pulled back the heavy velvet drapes.

The landscape
beyond was gray with dawn, surprisingly clear.  She stood in the window,
rubbing her arms, thinking on Fox’s words.  As she stood there pondering, he walked
up beside her.

“I’m not trying
to tell you not to do it,” he said softly, standing very close to her. “I’m
simply saying that this is a ninety year old case. I’m just curious what your
motivation is.”

She looked at
him. “My motivation is to solve Fanny’s murder,” she said. “But after hearing
the translation from that papyrus, I really feel like I need to finish what she
started. Fox, what if she really gave her life for this? What if this trek
really killed her? For her sake, I feel like I need to finish it.  She loved
Egypt so much that I think she would have wanted me to.”

“She would have
wanted you to risk your life based on clues from a five thousand year old
papyrus?” he murmured.

Morgan shook her
head, rubbing her arms. “No,” she said quietly. “But what if there really is
something at the end of all those clues? I’m guessing Fanny thought so. You
spoke of putting her in the history books as having helped the cause of
Egyptology; imagine what finding the tomb that the papyrus alludes to would do
for Egyptology.”

He snorted
softly. “We would be calling it Fannyology instead.”

Morgan smiled.
“It would mean a lot to Egyptology and the world. But it would mean more to me.
I feel like I really have to go and at least do what I can.  I’m a trained
investigator; maybe… maybe I was meant to use my skills for this. For Fanny.”

He stood next to
her as she rubbed at her cold arms. He eventually had all he could take and put
his big arms around her, pulling her against his warm torso.  Petite little
Morgan didn’t resist; she collapsed against his enormous, warm body, relishing
the heat and feeling his closeness with more excitement than she had felt in
years.   They just stood there for several long moments, watching the sunrise,
each lost to their own thoughts.

“I can offer my
services,” he finally said.

Her head was
against his chest, hearing his heart beating loud and strong. “You already
have,” she replied. “You deciphered the papyrus.”

“No,” he looked
down at her as she looked up at him. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that I
would volunteer to go with you if you are really planning on going to Egypt. I
don’t want you going alone. I think you need me.”

She gazed up at
him, this massive man with the black eyes she found so incredibly handsome. The
thought of traveling around Egypt with him did not distress her in the least;
in fact, it made the trip that much more alluring in spite of the serious
purpose.

“Are you
serious?” she asked. “We could be gone weeks.”

“I’m an
Egyptologist. I can write off the trip and justify the time away from the
museum.”

She hadn’t
thought of it that way. Still, she needed to make sure of his intentions; all
of this was happening so quickly that she was afraid he was upswept in some
fantasy idea. She didn’t want him to regret it.

“I have to do
this trip,” she said. “You don’t. Think about what you’re saying before you
commit yourself.”

“I already have.
If you’re going, I’m going. Are you really going?”

She nodded. “You
bet,” she replied. “But you’re telling me that you’re just going to drop
everything to run off on a wild goose chase with a woman you just met?”

He grinned.
“Hell of a wild goose chase.”

“You didn’t
answer my question.”

“Yes, I am going
to drop everything to go with you. I don’t have a lot going on right now at the
museum and other than my parents and my brothers, there isn’t anyone to leave
behind in Britain. It’s not like I have a wife and kids anchoring me here.”

“You mentioned
that.”

“You still
haven’t told me where I can find a wife.”

She laughed.
“Maybe in Egypt.”

“You’ll be in
Egypt.”

She reached up
and put a hand over his mouth. “No more of that talk,” she scolded softly,
changing the subject away from something they shouldn’t even be discussing after
knowing each other less than a full day. “The first thing I need to do is
figure out what the Claw of the Apes is. It seems to me like that’s the
starting point. Have you ever heard of it?”

He shook his
head. “Can I please speak?” he asked through her hand, grinning when she
removed it. “I’m going to have to do a little research and let you know.”

She was silent a
moment, listening to him yawn and feeling him pull her closer as if he was
snuggling down. “I need to go back to Los Angeles in a week,” she said. “But I
have at one hundred and twenty hours more of vacation time coming to me.  I’ll
go back, settle a few things, and fly out for Cairo.”

“One hundred and
twenty hours?” he repeated, shocked. “Have you never taken a holiday, woman?”

She grinned. “Not
in four years. It’s all accumulated time.”

“Will they let
you go?”

“They will.
They’ll have to; I’m entitled to take it.”

He was silent as
he pondered the course of what the next few months for him were going to take.
“Not to rain on your parade, but a trip like this is going to be expensive.”

She nodded. “I
realize that,” she said. “I have a pretty good sized retirement account I can
borrow against. What about you?”

“You mean you’re
not paying for me?”

She laughed
softly and he gave her a squeeze. “I’ll present it to the museum as a necessary
expedition. Or maybe I’ll present it as a work/study term. In any case, they’ll
pay my expenses.”

“You’re going to
lie to them?”

“No,” he assured
her. “But I will make you promise something in writing.”

“In writing?”
she pulled back to look at him. “What’s that?”

“That any
significant finds go to the Museum.”

She shrugged.
“Sure,” she said. “I don’t have any use for any significant finds. But I want
to add a stipulation to that contract.”

“What’s that?”

Her eyes grew
misty. “That if we do find something at the end of all those clues, it will be
attributed to Fanny Sherburn.”

He nodded
faintly. “Of course.”

She smiled her
thanks, gazing up at the man and realizing he looked exhausted. “You’ve been up
all night,” she said. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

He sighed, his
dark gaze moving to the morning beyond the giant window. “I am tired,” he
admitted. “But I don’t want to miss this.”

“Miss what?”

He looked back
down at her. “Watching the sun rise with you.”

She stared at
him. Then, the smile broke through. “You’re flirting again.”

He shook his
head. “Untrue,” he responded. “Flirting is trivial. I mean every word.”