That Time in Cairo by Logan Ryles (books to read in a lifetime .txt) 📗

there anyway. They could be anywhere in the country by now.”

“Go on,” Edric said.

“We have to put ourselves in their shoes. If we stole the scroll, what would we need? We already know the scroll isn’t fully readable, and anyway, it’s written in a dead language. So, the thieves need to restore it before it can be useful, and then they need somebody who can translate it.” Wolfgang snapped his fingers as the plan cemented in his mind. “In other words, we don’t need to find them. We need to find the person they need. There can’t be more than a few specialists in the country with the right kind of skills. We find that person, and the thieves will come to us.”

Edric smiled and looked at Megan. “Kid’s good.”

Megan shrugged indifferently, probably perturbed that she hadn’t solved the riddle first.

Edric reached into a briefcase next to his chair and retrieved a file. He opened it and shuffled full-page photographs across the table.

“Dr. Amelia Pollins. She’s a British national currently employed by the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. She holds a PhD in Egyptology, with specialties including hieroglyphics and the restoration of ancient artifacts.”

“Well, her résumé checks out,” Kevin said.

Wolfgang lifted the photograph from the table. Pollins looked to be in her late thirties, with ice-blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. She had a somewhat stiff appearance, as though she were more comfortable in a laboratory than at a dinner party.

“Where’s the museum?” Wolfgang asked.

“Downtown Cairo,” Megan said, apparently eager to contribute after striking out. “It’s massive, with thousands of artifacts. The scroll was probably headed there before being stolen.”

Edric nodded. “It was, because Dr. Pollins was the specialist assigned to head the restoration and evaluation project. She knows more about hieroglyphics than almost anybody in the country, which is funny since she’s not even Egyptian.”

“Does she speak them?” Lyle asked.

“Speak what?” Edric said.

“Hieroglyphics.”

The plane went silent for a moment as everybody waited for Lyle to laugh. He didn’t.

“It’s a dead language, wiz! Nobody speaks it.” Kevin snorted, smacking Lyle on the shoulder.

“Actually, it’s not a language,” Megan said. “It’s not even an alphabet, really. It’s a different form of written communication—pictographic characters strung together to convey concepts, ideas, events, etcetera.”

Edric waved a hand. “None of that matters. The focus is recovering the document, then the Egyptians can worry about what it says. We know Pollins is the likely target of the thief and agree that starting with her makes the most sense. Now, we need a plan of action.”

Megan’s back stiffened. “Wait, we’re gonna use this woman as bait?”

“Not bait, no,” Edric said. “We’re going to provide her with close proximity, invisible protection, and nab her potential kidnapper before she knows a thing about it.”

Megan folded her arms. “We’re going to use her as bait.”

Edric lifted both eyebrows. “Do you have a better idea? Better than roadblocks, I mean.”

Silence filled the plane, then Megan nodded her defeat.

Edric walked to the minibar and poured himself a bourbon, then took a long sip. “After we land, we’ll proceed to Pollins’s office to locate her. Intel suggests she arrives early and leaves late, and we’ll land about four hours before sundown, so we should have plenty of time to establish a perimeter and monitor her as she leaves.”

“What if Wolfgang is wrong?” Kevin asked. “What if they aren’t targeting this woman at all?”

Edric shrugged. “If they don’t make a move on her tonight, we’ll reevaluate in the morning. Let’s not complicate things ahead of time. Lyle, are we good on communications? I don’t want any more unexplained failures.”

Lyle shot Wolfgang a sideways look, and Wolfgang avoided his gaze. On their last mission in Paris, Wolfgang had thrown Lyle under the bus, blaming a communications failure while covering for Kevin, who had broken protocol and left his post. Kevin had kept his job, and Edric probably knew the coms had never failed, but Lyle still got harassed about it.

“Won’t be a problem,” Lyle said. “I’ve devised a way to reduce proximities between each of you and the core antenna that routes all signals back to my computers. Coms should be strong and reliable.”

Edric nodded. “Terrific. Let’s keep them that way.”

He drained the glass, then waved over his shoulder as he stepped over Lyle’s crate and disappeared into the aft cabin.

Lyle shot Wolfgang a sideways look. “You owe me one,” he said.

Wolfgang motioned to the crate, eager to change the subject. “What’s in the box?”

Lyle’s face lit up, and he scooted out of his seat. “Help me open it. I’ll show you.”

They pried the lid off, exposing a mound of foam packing peanuts inside.

Lyle scooped them aside, then lifted out smaller cardboard boxes. “You may remember that in Paris I had a lot of trouble staying connected to our satellite.”

“You mean the satellite you hacked.”

Lyle wrinkled his nose. “Hacked, borrowed, whatever. The point is, it occurred to me that we could maintain visual and radio connection a lot better if we weren’t using a satellite at all, but something much closer to the ground. Something we controlled.”

Lyle opened a long cardboard box and pulled out a black and sleek propeller blade, about fifteen inches long and made of carbon fiber.

“You bought a drone?” Wolfgang asked.

Lyle beamed. “Not just any drone, my friend. This baby is custom-built, with an aircraft aluminum frame, four high-torque electric motors, and eight carbon-fiber propellers. It can attain altitudes of over fifteen-hundred feet—which isn’t strictly legal, but whatever—and carries all the right electronic goodies to keep us connected and informed. Really, it’s a remarkable aircraft.”

Wolfgang knelt next to the box and helped Lyle unpack, fascinated by the precise detail of each part. The drone was fully disassembled, in maybe fifty different pieces, but Wolfgang held faith in Lyle’s ability to assemble it correctly and on time.

“What about flight time?” Wolfgang asked. “You mentioned that it’s electric. Your electric toys have a tendency to run out of battery.”

Lyle feigned irritation, but Wolfgang knew he loved questions about his gadgets.

“Flight time is usually