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“What if he just wants revenge?” Neil pressed nervously.

Adam shook his head. “I don’t think that’s his style. Don’t get me wrong—he’s a nasty piece of work. But he’s not one of those guys who hurts people for the fun of it. It’s just business for him.”

Ellie uncomfortably considered how awful Jacobs’ notion ofjust businesswas… and then found herself thinking of the bizarre revelations exposed by their encounter with him on the ridge.

What is it that you truly want?

Justice.

Justice that somehow—in some way—Ellie and Adam must be meant to play a part in.

It had stayed Jacobs’ hand when he might otherwise have easily—and happily—killed them both. And yet, Ellie wasn’t sure whether she ought to find that a relief… or an even more frightening prospect than being at the wrong end of Jacobs’ gun.

His final words at the wadi drifted through her mind, sparking a chill that defied the warm air of the Egyptian night.

Till next time.

“Of course, there is also the little issue that both Mr. Al-Ahmed and Dr. Fairfax have most certainly lost their jobs,” Constance helpfully pointed out, interrupting the dark turn of Ellie’s thoughts.

Neil groaned at the reminder, dropping his face into his hands. “I highly doubt I’ll be getting a reference,” he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms.

“I would suspect not,” Ellie agreed sympathetically. She looked at Sayyid. “I imagine you have quite enough experience and contacts to get other work without Mr. Forster-Mowbray’s help.”

“I… do.” Sayyid sounded oddly unenthusiastic about the prospect.

Neil raised his head. “Or you could finish your father’s book,” he blurted out quickly.

Zeinab slowly set down her tea. Constance’s eyebrows arched with surprise.

Sayyid frowned.

“The Egyptian lexicon,” Neil elaborated. “You could do it brilliantly—you know more about the language than anyone I have ever met, and that includes the entire Cambridge History Department. If you translated what your father had already written into English and filled in whatever was missing, I know more than one publisher who would jump at the chance to get their hands on a work like that. And if you were recognized as the world’s preeminent expert on the reconstructed pronunciation of Middle and Late Egyptian…” Neil’s expression firmed as he put a bit more steel into his tone. “Well, it would be a little harder for the Antiquities Service to justify turning down any application you might make for an excavation of your own.”

Sayyid looked torn, hope and a tired skepticism warring on his features.

“Who would fund a dig run by an Egyptian?” he pushed back in tones as careful as glass.

“Aai would,” Constance replied, plucking another date from the bowl.

Everyone looked at her in surprise.

“But the expense…” Sayyid protested.

“She has thrown parties that would cost more than you do,” Constance assured him. “And she has always had an interest in history.” She frowned. “Among other things.”

Like blackmail, espionage, and intimidation, Ellie thought quietly.

“I think it is worth considering,” Zeinab declared.

Sayyid straightened. “You do?”

“At least until we have managed to overthrow the British oppressors and reclaim Egypt’s heritage for Egyptians,” she added in smoothly dangerous tones.

“I think we can all agree that is the ideal outcome,” Ellie offered stoutly.

Adam smirked with pride.

Constance turned a curious gaze on Zeinab. “Is your revolutionary cell taking on any new members?”