HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

The house was huge and airy and faced the Nile. A low brick wall marked the highest flood level of the river. The house sat several yards further back. Ariel stood at the open patio doors and gazed out at the river. She had been to Egypt before. She very vividly remembered skinny-dipping in the Nile late at night. The raven-haired girl came to mind again. Did she know Kendall's daughter?

"You're awfully quiet," came a soft voice.

Ariel turned to see Kendall, standing beside her. He wore simple tan slacks and a white shirt of Egyptian cotton. Here, in this house, he seemed familiar too. "It's beautiful here," she said.

"Yes, it is." Kendall glanced up at the dark sky wehre stars glittered like diamonds. "Fell in love with Egypt from the beginning."

"Where are you from?"

"I was born in Iowa but grew up in Hawaii. That's where my daughter lives now."

"What's her name?"

"Leslie." Kendall studied her for a moment, remembering the conversation with his daughter. "You don't know her?"

"No." Ariel took a deep breath. "What I mean is, I don't know. I have amnesia."

Kendall remembered what Radcliffe had said. "It's okay." He glanced out toward the river and took a deep breath. "Sarver and Reeves told me what happened with the unicorn." He sighed, wondering if he should admit it. "I noticed it too."

She stared at him, startled. "You weren't there."

"I was there when it was first brought in. I held it."

No one else had sensed anything. She wondered if she touched him, would she feel that tingle as well. She had felt it with Nick, Melia, Felicity and M.J. and Calandra. What did it mean? She took a deep breath. "Thane called it hyperalert mode."

"Yes."

Ariel felt the tension in her shoulders ease. "It was....strange."

Kendall nodded, then offered her his arm. "I hope you're hungry."

Ariel hesitated for only a second, before placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. A faint tingling swept up her arm. "Yes, I am."

He smiled down at her. "Then let's eat."

***

21 May 2003

Paris, France

7:47 pm

After the service, Joe found himself reluctant to leave. Sanctuary, the priest had said. Ethan started for the door. "You coming?"

"Not yet."

Ethan frowned and looked around, then back at Joe. "You can't hide in here for ever. Quasimodo, you're not."

Joe arched an eyebrow at the reference. "I don't know. Ringing bells might be fun."

"It's not like it ended well."

"I know. Why is it humans want what they can't have?"

Ethan grunted. "But you can have what--who you want."

Joe shook his head. "Not after what I did."

"If Cathy could forgive me---"

"Catherine's a kinder soul."

Ethan gave him a cross-eyed look. "You don't know much, do you."

"Shut up, Ethan." Joe reclaimed the seat he had earlier. "Wonder if I could stay the night."

"Soulsearching in a church....what a novel idea."

Joe felt weary to the soul, suddenly. "Ethan....go away."

His partner sat down beside him, abruptly somber. "I don't want to go yet either."

Joe sat there, staring at the old wooden kneerests on the back of the pew in front of them. "Have you ever prayed, Ethan?" he asked, finally.

"I could recite the Lord's Prayer when I was five."

"Could you do it now?"

"Hel--uh--no." Ethan cleared his throat. "What exactly are you praying for?"

"I don't know. For Casi to be safe, for a second chance..." Joe raised his eyes to the vaulted ceiling cloaked in darkness. "To answer your question, I believe."

Ethan gave him an odd look. "Everything? The Garden of Eden, talking snake, the Flood, the burning bush?"

There were so many incredible things, Joe thought, then sighed. "I believe God created the world."

"In seven days?"

"Stop being a devil's advocate."

"So you're saying all the old Sunday School stories are true."

"You don't believe them?"

"Well..." Ethan looked thoughtful. "Moses made a good movie. Loved the chariot race."

Joe looked at him with a frown. "That was Ben-Hur. The same guy played both movies."

"He did?" said Ethan, sounding surprised.

Joe sighed again. "You never take anything seriously do you."

"Marriage vows." Ethan cleared his throat again. "Someone--"He found he had to clear his throat again. "Someone once told me that there's no rigid pattern to praying. It's just like talking to--" Ethan pointed at the ceiling. "--Him." He took a deep breath. "Like I talk to you." At Joe's sardonic look, he added, "That is, the way I'd talk to you if I respected you."

"Oh thanks," Joe muttered sarcastically.

"Want me to leave?"

Joe thought about it for a moment. "No. Just move to another pew," he added with a faint smile.

Ethan snorted and stood up. "Why did we wait to come here after dark? Can't see the windows now."

Joe shook his head as his partner wandered off. He stared down at his hands, suddenly embarrassed. Although he'd attended church as a child, he had never considered himself very religious. What would he even say?

"Monsieur," came a soft male voice.

Joe looked up, expecting the priest but this man was unfamiliar to him. He was tall, broad-shouldered with a trim beard and shoulder-length hair a dark brown that glinted gold in the candlelight. The dark brown robe hung to his sandaled feet and was belted with a gold cord. Joe cleared his throat. "Yes?"

The man laid a hand on Joe's shoulder. " 'Ask, and it shall be given to you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks, it will be opened.' " The man smiled, nodded and left, by way of the double front doors. Joe twisted around to look for him but he was gone. Joe stood up. "Ethan."

"What?"

"Did you see him?"

"See who?" Ethan looked at his partner, puzzled, then gestured to the empty sanctuary. "There's no one here but us.

Joe took a deep breath, ready to argue but caught sight of the crucifix stationed on the wall at the other end of the church. A chill swept over him and he glanced at the doors. "Let's go."

Ethan frowned. "You finished?"

"Yeah."

They left the cathedral and Ethan nearly tripped over a pile of dark cloth. "What the--?"

Joe picked it up along with a gold cord. Rope sandals lay on the stone step. "This was what he was wearing," said Joe, quietly, wondering if it really had been what he was thinking.

"So we have a naked monk running around Paris?"

Joe shook his head. "Ethan, watch your mouth." He put the robe, sandals and cord inside by the door. "Come on."

"Well, nobody wears regular clothes and a heavy robe."

"Shut up, partner. Let's go eat."

"Best news I've heard all day."

***

21 May 2003

Cairo, Egypt

8:21 pm

"Now that was delicious." Sheldon Reeves smiled. "Thank you, Calandra."

"You're welcome."

Kendall grinned. "Everyone full and happy?"

"Stuffed is more like it," said Michael, rubbing his stomach.

"And who's fault is that?" asked Thane, looking equally stuffed.

"You hush."

Kendall stood up. "Let's all go into the den and we'll discuss the objects."

Ariel turned to Calandra as everyone scooted back from the table. "Need some help cleaning up?"

"Not at all. Maria and Sara will tend to it. Come on.

As everyone moved to the den and settled down on sofas, chairs and stools, Kendall moved to stand in front of the patio doors still open. "Now that everyone is settled, Sheldon, you have the floor."

Sheldon nodded and took Kendall's place facing everyone as Kendall sat down next to his wife on one of the two sofas in the room. Sheldon took a breath. "As I'm certain everyone now knows, we have four non-Egyptian items. A jade unicorn standing three and a quarter inches high with crystal horn and hoofs and amber eyes. A gold cuff bracelet with squares of topaz and cylindrical beads of amber. A silver circlet with a crescent moon emblem and a cabachon carnelian--and a gold chalice with an unindentified stone set into the etched design."

Sheldon sighed. "Although made of jade, the unicorn does not resemble any known jade carvings, the majority of which do come from the Orient."

Jasmine shifted on her stool. "So you don't have a clue as to where it's from?"

"It's solid jade," said Sarver with a shrug. "The only thing we do know is it's not Chinese or Japanese or anything like that. And the bracelet--despite the fact that turquoise tended to be a favorite of the Native Americans--is definitely not Native American in style or craftsmanship."

Kendall glanced over at Sarver. "Are you sure?"

Sarver just shrugged. "Reasonably sure."

"Judging from the working of the circlet, it may be Celtic. The chalice has no markings to link it to any Greek style," continued Sheldon as if no one had interrupted him. "Of course, Greece is not the only place to have chalices."

Kendall frowned. "Okay, let's state the facts. The chalice is not Greek; the circlet may be Celtic, the unicorn is not Oriental and the bracelet is not Native American. So we know what they're not. Can we find out what they are?"

Sheldon nodded. "That will be our intention. The unicorn and bracelet were discovered in a small tomb in Karnak."

Kendall sighed. "And the circlet and chalice?"

Sarver shook his head. "Hassoud didn't remember."

Michael gestured to Ariel. "She found them in a box on a shelf."

Ariel's head shot up. "I still don't know how I knew."

"That's quite all right," said Sheldon. He glanced at Kendall. "I'd like to go back to Karnak. Investigate some more."

"Of course."

Amber. Ariel frowned inwardly. Something about amber--but not called amber. "What did amber used to be called," she asked suddenly. "A long time ago, it was called something else, right?"

"Orichalc," said Cristina. "It's in Plato's tale of Atlantis."

"Orichalc." Ariel smiled. "Thank you."

"Atlantis never existed," muttered Michael.

"Stating absolutes is not the way to go about an investigation," said Felicity Curtis, quiet until now.

"Oh rubbish, Leesie. The first rule of geometry is to state a theory, then either prove it or disprove it."

Felicity shot her sister a glare but before she could say anything, Sarver spoke up, "I disagree. Januth Spurgnow pinpointed it to the latitude."

"This is not a debate on Atlantis," said Sheldon."

"Why not?" asked Ariel.

"Because it is a futile debate," answered Sheldon. "There is no solid proof either way."

"I say there is, just go to Denmark's west coast and look in the water," said Sarver.

"But that's not Atlantis," insisted Michael. "Atlantis never existed. It was a story handed down."

"And the first tellers were from a master race, Michael?" Cristina shook her head. "Really, Michael."

Robert cleared his throat. "Disparaging other's theories usually is a mistake, no matter how outlandish. If Schliemann had bowed to conventional wisdom, there would've been no discover of Troy. If Carter had relented to pressure, Tutankhamen would never have seen the light of day."

Kendall looked over at him. "True. But a master race. Doesn't that completely ignore everything scientists, scholars and historians have revealed as true?"

"What is truth?" asked Robert. "Creation or evolution, both or neither? It is a question that has no answer."

"The only way we'll ever truly know is build a time machine and go back there," suggested Ariel.

Kendall bit back a smile. "None of us are descendants of H.G. Wells, unfortunately."

Ariel sat there and her hand drifted to her neck automatically. The pearl. Something about the pearl..."What if we're all wrong?" she asked quietly.

Calandra looked around the room at the people scattered everywhere. "That might be the scariest possibility of all."

***

21 May 2003

Honolulu, HI

9:48 am

Leslie Logan sat and stared at the phone, then looked out on another sunny day in paradise. It had been an hour since she'd talked to her father. Was it possible? She'd been paid for her services in Marrekech. This wasn't even her problem anymore. She picked up the phone and dialed a long-distance number. A deep voice answered on the first ring and she punched the speakerphone button. "Whitfield."

"You're supposed to say 'Whitfield Investigative Services', how may I help you'."

"My secretary has already left for the evening, Leslie. What is it?"

"I heard a rumor that Cassandra MacFairlaigne was kidnapped."

"News to me," said Emerson laconicly.

"Nothing excites you, does it?"

"Not much. When did it happen?"

"A little over a week ago. The curious thing is, someone fitting her description is in Cairo."

"Why is that curious?" came Emerson's voice, his British accent strong. "There are thousands of women with red hair and with contacts, anyone can have gold-brown eyes."

Leslie grunted. "You were a pessimist in another life, weren't you."

"Is that a crime?"

"Emerson."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to go to Cairo."

"You have family there. By all means, go."

"It won't entirely be a pleasure trip."

"Oh really."

"Emerson--"

"Yes, yes, of course. Go. Let me know what you find."

"Okay. Bye." Leslie hung up and sat back in the leather desk chair. This room had been her father's until he'd decided to stay in Cairo, permanently. Now it was her office. Leslie reached for her iced tea and took a sip. Emerson did have a point that there were a lot of redheads in the world and at least half of them have brown eyes. It was also true that with all the hair-color brands on the market, there were at least twenty-five shades of auburn. But Leslie believed in hunches and she had a very strong hunch that Ariel Hathaway was Cassandra MacFairlaigne. But why, if she was kidnapped, was she in Cairo? And why a different name?

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.