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“There will certainly be more than five of them,” Constance reasoned. “Those were the names Julian gave me, but anything this juicy and exclusive is sure to attract more interest. I shouldn’t be surprised to find out that half of the British ruling class is involved in some way or another, even if it is only by doing a little favor here or there. That is how things work among that lot, anyway—financiers, politicians, members of the nobility. It’s all just little favors, and only when you step back to look at it do you realize that those little favors are driving the entire empire.”
Neil paled. “But that’s… that’s absolutely terrifying!”
Ellie soaked up the significance of what Constance was describing… and quietly agreed.
Learning they were up against a single ruthless collector, however powerful, would have been one thing. Even a secret government agency devoted to rounding up the legendary artifacts of history would not have felt entirely insurmountable.
But an informal organization based on threads of obligation and influence woven throughout the highest fabric of British society… It would be hard enough to prove it even existed, never mind find an authority who could bring those involved to justice.
The authorities were likely all members.
It would be like battling a hydra—a slippery, ruthless beast that sprouted new heads everywhere you looked for it.
A great weight settled onto Ellie’s shoulders. How was one lady scholar, however principled and determined, possibly supposed to go up against something like that?
The thought threatened to pull her down into despair… until her gaze drifted over the people who were gathered around her on the rooftop.
There was fearless Constance and clever Sayyid. Zeinab the warrior, battling for justice under the shadow of her abaya. Ellie’s bewildered brother, who was slowly fighting his way into doing what was right even though it meant overthrowing everything he had thought he knew about the world.
And finally Adam Bates, strong and steady beside her—ready to go wherever she might lead him with complete and unflinching trust.
Thatwas how, Ellie realized silently as a wave of warmth washed over her. She couldn’t possibly hope to thwart something like the Order of Albion on her own. She could only dare to do it with the most extraordinary band of allies at her side. Withfriends.
“As to the staff,” Zeinab calmly cut in as she poured herself a cup of sweet mint tea. “You needn’t worry about that anymore.”
“Why not?” Ellie pressed.
“Because it has already been disposed of.” Zeinab sipped her tea.
Adam cocked an eyebrow. Neil’s jaw dropped.
“But where have you put it?” Constance pressed.
“I gave it to Umm Waseem.”
They all stared at her with surprise—even Sayyid, who blinked down at his wife where she nestled at his side.
“None of these imperialists or their mercenaries ever saw her face,” Zeinab calmly continued. “They do not know her name. She is a smuggler from a family of smugglers—people who have been keeping secrets for generations. She can put the staff someplace where it will not be found until the time is right, however long that might take.” She shrugged. “It seemed the obvious solution.”
Ellie wondered whether she ought to be offended that Zeinab had decided the fate of an arcanum that each and every one of them had risked their lives for without so much as a word of consultation.
But she wasn’t. It seemed oddly right. Why shouldn’t Zeinab have decided? The artifact was Egyptian, after all—and Zeinab knew better than any of them how to hide things in plain sight.
“What if they come after us to get to her?” Neil suggested uneasily.
“What can you tell them?” Zeinab shot back. “That she is Umm Waseem?”
“It’s not a legal name,” Sayyid explained with a look at his wife that was both uncertain and admiring. “It just means Mother of Waseem. We call older women by the names of their sons. It is a mark of respect.”
“And there are thousands of Waseems in Egypt,” Zeinab finished pointedly. “We may tell them everything we know of her. Even I may do so—because it isn’t very much. When Umm Waseem wants to disappear, she disappears. Nobody will be able to track her down if she doesn’t wish them to.”
Ellie thought of the old woman with eyes like glinting blades and her ubiquitous sack of explosives—and found that she did not doubt Zeinab’s words one bit.
She cast a significant look at Adam. “So we would be able to tell Jacobstruthfullythat we have no idea where Umm Waseem is.”
“And he’ll know that means harassing us for more information is a dead end,” Adam filled in.
He didn’t have to explain any further. They both knew perfectly well how capable Jacobs was of recognizing the truth.
