An hour later, Nigel found himself sitting on a hard plastic chair, flipping through a five month old magazine, and unconsciously staring a hole into the large black clock on the waiting room wall.
A simple conference, that was all it was supposed to be. Egyptologists and archeologists sitting around sipping wine and discussing the newest hole they'd dug in the ground. He ran a hand through his thick brown hair, pushing the errant strands off his forehead.
*A simple conference* Yes, quite simple... complete with poison-tipped knives, attempted murderers, and mysterious note-passing strangers.
His hand reached for his pocket, once more retrieving the folded slip of paper the girl at the ballroom had passed him. To say it was cryptic would be a generous interpretation.
"Ichriem is found. MT 10:30-BMR"
He muttered the words for the hundredth time, still making no sense of them. Ichriem sounded vaguely familiar, but he just couldn't place it... it could have been a place or a person, maybe even a thing. It sounded like something Sydney would know.
Nigel closed his eyes. Sydney. He hadn't heard a word about her condition since she'd been brought in. She'd looked so pale, but whether it was from blood loss or something else was yet to be seen... seen by doctors anyway. Nigel knew she'd been drugged, her seemingly drunken behavior before she collapsed was all the clue he needed. It simply wasn't humanly possible for her to have become intoxicated in the short time they were apart.
Sensing motion towards the door, he turned his head, willing a doctor to appear and was somewhat disappointed to see a police officer stroll through the opening. He fought off the urge to sigh. He'd already been through a charming song and dance with the local police and wasn't looking forward to another encounter.
"Mr. Nigel Bailey?" the officer questioned. He was tall and imposing, somewhere in his mid-forties with specks of gray already coloring his hair. He carried a large yellow envelope with a scribble of black ink across the front.
Nigel stood rather wearily. He seemed to remember seeing the man at the hotel. "Yes."
"I'm Lieutenant Shanahan, NYPD." His dark eyes flicked around the waiting room with the air of a soldier scouting enemy territory.
"Yes," Nigel agreed again, "I'm afraid the uniform was a bit of a give away."
Shanahan arched an eyebrow, and probably would have looked amused, but Nigel had a feeling the policeman rarely let anything amusing distract him. "Is there any word?"
"No," the young Englishman shook his head, looking towards the doorway again. "They haven't told me anything."
"Hmmph." The officer grunted, gesturing for Nigel to sit down. Once they were both seated, he held up the envelope, the black ink clearly labeling it 'Evidence.' "We believe we've located the weapon used on Ms. Fox."
Nigel sat up a little straighter. "That's excellent." At last some headway! He looked at the envelope. "Is that it?"
Shanahan nodded, opening the envelope and withdrawing a clear plastic bag. "It was found hidden in a potted plant in the hotel lobby."
Nigel slipped on his glasses, staring at the short, thin knife sheathed in a layer of Ziploc and involuntarily gasped. "My God..." he muttered, trailing off. His horror at seeing the item responsible for nearly killing Sydney was slowly replaced with professional curiosity.
"Have you seen it before?" The lieutenant probed, catching Nigel's reaction.
"No," the young man shook his head, as his eyes ate up the detail of the artifact... and an artifact it was. "I mean, I've seen knives like this before, but only in museums. They're extremely rare and not usually privately owned."
"Why's that?" the cop flipped out a small pencil and notebook, prepared to crib down information.
"Because it's an authentic Egyptian dagger." Nigel explained. "And likely over 2,000 years old."
Shanahan frowned. "Are you sure it's the real thing?"
"Quite." Nigel took a pen from his pocket and pointed out a marking on the blade of the knife. "Here," he gestured. "See that?"
The policeman squinted at the mark, then nodded. "What is it?"
"It's the cartouche of the smith who forged the blade, I've seen it before on similar pieces. And this," he pointed towards the ornate handle. "Is also clearly made of real gold, silver, and if I'm not mistaken, ivory as well." He withdrew his pen, sticking back in his pocket. "There are probably less than fifty of them in known existence... they were generally buried with their owners and very few have been recovered. If it is truly authentic, I suspect it's worth well over $200,000."
The lieutenant gaped at the knife, now seeing it in a new light. He looked around the small waiting room again as though expecting tomb robbers to spring from behind the water cooler. He coolly slid the plastic bag back in its envelope. "Do you know anyone who might have access to something like this?"
The young man fought off the urge to laugh sardonically. "At a meeting of Egyptologists?" As it was, he still sounded rather incredulous. "I'm afraid any number of them could have access to it." He shook his head, causing a lock of hair to drift down across his temple. "If not from a museum, nearly everyone there has been to Egypt at one point or another. It's possible they could have bought it on the black market or perhaps found it themselves at a dig." He thought for a moment, wanting to be more helpful. "You should contact Dr. Robert Brickman at the British Museum, he's an expert on ancient weapons. If anyone would know the location of all the daggers like this, it would be him."
The officer scribbled the name in his notebook and looked up with a genuine smile, an expression which changed his whole dour persona. "You've been a big help."
Nigel wanted to smile back, but couldn't bring himself to it as the reason for his being there came crashing back around him. "I'm glad to help. Anything to catch whoever done this." The policeman rose to leave and Nigel thought of something else. "Tell me, was it poisoned?" he gestured towards the package.
Shanahan shook his head. "We don't know, the blade was wiped clean. I'm on my way to lab with it now. I think the doctors here would have a better idea about any poisons in her system. I'll tell you this though, if this was the knife used against her, we'll find out."
The policeman left with a friendly nod and a 'I'll be in touch.' Nigel slumped down his chair as he mulled over the new information. An Egyptian dagger, a rare one at that, discarded in a potted plant in a busy hotel lobby? Everyone there was a suspect... After all, if you were an Egyptologist on the rampage or out for revenge, what better way than to employ a 2,000 year-old murder weapon?
There was also the matter of Sydney's last warning, which Nigel could still hear ringing in his ears. "You have to get away, 'The Viper' is here." She'd looked so intense, so worried, so scared... and he realized she hadn't only been scared for herself, she'd been scared for him. She'd warned him with her last ounce of strength to get away, terrified her fate would befall him.
He didn't take it lightly.
If Sydney thought there was danger, there probably was. But he couldn't leave, not now. Not with knifes being found in potted plants, not with mysterious note-passing strangers, and not with villains using reptilian code names. Sydney was his mentor and his best friend, and as long as she was alive and fighting in the hospital, he'd be there. He knew she'd do the same for him. "I'm not leaving Syd," he vowed. "Not until you can come with me."
End of Part Four
Go to Part Five.