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

It was hot. Although clad in knee-length khaki walking shorts and a cool cotton blouse the color of tangerines, Ariel was glad she'd braided her hir in twin plaits before getting off the plane. She gazed around at the modern looking airport and without thinking headed straight for customs. Falling in step beside her, Michael grunted. "Damn, I should have thought of that."

Ariel glanced at him. "What?"

"I forgot sunscreen. With that fair skin, you'll burn big time."

Ariel shrugged. "We can get some here."

"And a hat. You need a big straw hat."

"Stop being a mother hen, Radcliffe, said Alethea, walking past them.

"You'll burn too, but hey, what do I care?"

The four of them went through customs fairly quickly, then stepped outside and Michael hailed a taxi. With the driver's help, they started loading the luggage into the trunk. Michael glanced at Ariel. "Got everything?"

"We'll meet at Shepheard's," said Quinn, standing beside another taxi. Alethea was already inside and their luggage loaded.

Michael nodded. "Sounds good."

Ariel glanced around, then started for the doors to the terminal. "I think so, let me go--" she said, glancing over her shoulder. Next thing she knew she collided with a tall, dark-haired man clad in loose-fitting linen pants, campshirt and deck shoes. The man grabbed her arms to stead her and she looked up into twinkling blue eyes. For a split second, she felt dizzy and confused. Blue eyes..."I'm sorry, I wasn't--"

A smile creased the man's bearded face. "I'm not. Thane Sarver."

"Ariel Hathaway."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hathaway."

"Sarver?" came Michael's voice. "Is that you?"

Sarver raised his head, blinked, startled. "Michael! My God, it's been ages."

Michael shook Sarver's hand enthusiastically. "You old dog, what are you doing here?"

"Well, Sheldon, contacted me about--"

"The unicorn and the bracelet." Michael nodded. "Most curious, that."

"Definitely." Sarver gestured to the terminal. "Just got in myself."

"Care to share a taxi?"

Sarver smiled at Ariel. "I'd be delighted." He loaded his luggage in the trunk, then got in beside the driver, while Michael and Ariel took the back seat. Sarver rested an arm across the back of the seat, barely paying attention to the jerky way the driver steered around camels, carts and tourists in a decidedly reckless manner enroute to the famous Shepheard's Hotel. "So what's your theory?"

"Don't start with that, Thane," muttered Michael.

"With what?" asked Ariel.

"Michael's ancient master race theory," said Sarver.

"It's possible."

"Ariel," Michael shook his head. "Don't."

"Oh, he's got you believing it too, eh?"

"No. But it's started me thinking. What about all those things we've no explanation for? The crystal skulls, Stonehenge and Big Hat Medicine Wheel and what of the Nazca lines and the earthworks scattered across the globe?"

"Burial sites."

"But why in the shape of a huge serpent? Or why the giant pictures of birds and animals alongside the Nazca lines?"

Sarver arched an eyebrow at Michael, puzzled by the curious expression on the man's face, then looked at Ariel. "Are you an archeologist?"

"I---" She got a glimpse of sand and pits, dozens of people excavating but it seemed too distant and strange to be her. "No, I'm not."

Sarver studied her a moment, noted the odd expression on Michael's face and decided to bring it up later. He nodded to Ariel. "Most believe that sites such as Stonehenge and the wheel are primitive calenders, marking the change of seasons by following the sun, moon and the fixed stars."

"True. But a simple marker would suffice. One for the summer solstice and one for the winter solstice. Why concentric circles?"

Sarver frowned. "Well, it's obvious, then that the creators of both knew about precession."

Ariel nodded. "The slow movement of the stars. The reason Alpha Draconis is no longer the pole star. But how would an ancient people with no access to star charts or space travel know that?"

Sarver shrugged. "There's the Atlantis theory."

Ariel frowned. "Don't tell me that people now think Britain is Atlantis."

"No. Atlantis sank, remember."

"If it existed," muttered Michael, doggedly.

Sarver shot Michael an exasperated look, then smiled at Ariel. "The Atlantis theory is that it did exist just off the coast of Jutland."

"Jutland?" asked Ariel.

"The peninsula where Denmark is. It's believed that Atlantis--or rather Basilea--was just west of Jutland and that contrary to Plato's single day and night, it took many years for it to sink."

Ariel cocked her head to one side. "But what about the Atlantic Ocean where it was located?"

"It's possible that it was a misinterpretation. Not ocean but Atlantic or rather Atlas Sea. The North Sea."

"Is there proof?"

"Historical accounts match up with Plato's story."

"Yeah," said Michael. "But there's one itty bitty problem. The date."

Sarver glanced at him. "Not necessarily. According to one theory, Egyptians may have reckoned a month as a year since their's was a lunar calender."

Ariel shook her head. "No. That's not possible."

Sarver blinked. "What?"

"The Egyptians had enough sense to acknowledge a solar calender as well. How else would they know to plant crops, to know when the Nile would flood. They can't have reckoned a month as a year."

The taxi came to a stop in front of the Shepheard's Hotel. Ariel blinked, it dawning on her that she hadn't even bothered trying to sightsee. In fact, it felt even stronger that she'd been here before. She'd felt it the moment they'd stepped through the terminal, she'd felt as if she'd been to Cairo before--had she?

As Sarver opened her door and she got out. Ariel caught sight of the Great Pyramid in the distance. She flashed to the king's chamber lit only by several high-powered flashlights. She'd been there with someone. "I think I've been to Egypt before."

Sarver glanced at Michael who shook his head. Sarver frowned, then smiled at Ariel. "It's a beautiful place."

"Yes." Ariel found herself staring at the Great Pyramid in the distance as if she could see through the stones themselves. "I've never understood why there are no heiroglyphs and murals on the walls of the king's chamber."

"Certain people claim the Great Pyramid was never intended to be a tomb," said Michael, as he unloaded the luggage.

"Hogwash," said Sarver. "Why else would it have been built? Certainly not as an observatory."

"But what about sighting Alpha Draconis through that shaft?" asked Ariel. "Alpha Draconis, Thuban, used to be the pole star." Thuban....ateth' uban...

Sarver blinked owlishly at her. "Well, if you're not an archeologist, you must be an astronomer."

Ariel looked at him startled...'Unless you plan on being an astronaut...Whatever possessed you to take cosmology as a major?....Seemed like a good idea at the time...' "I majored in cosmology."

Sarver nodded. "Now it makes sense."

Michael handed Sarver his bag. "When are you meeting Sheldon?"

"Soon as I get settled. He's at the Museum of Antiquities right now."

"Mind if I tag along?" asked Ariel.

Michael frowned at the smile Sarver gave her. "Not at all," said Sarver.

"Not at all."

***

21 May 2003

Paris, France

11:15 am

"You can't do this," said the man seated in the chair. He tugged at the robes binding his wrists to the arms of the chair. He glared at the two men looking at him. "You can't be the police. They would never allow this brutality. This is kidnapping."

Ethan Ashworth gave the man a wide-eyed look. "Is it?"

"You should know," said Joe MacKensey. "Since you kidnapped Cassandra MacFairlaigne seven days ago."

"What? Who is she?"

"You tell me."

Brian Messier shook his head. "I do not know anyone by that name. I did not kidnap anyone."

Ethan frowned. There was something odd about the man's accent. It didn't sound the same as native Parisians they'd encountered since arriving here. "Where are you from?"

The man looked over at him startled. "What?"

"I asked where you were from. You're not from France, are you?"

Messier got an uneasy look on his face. "I have lived in France for six years."

"That's not what he asked you," said Joe. "He asked where you were from. Where were you born?"

Messier looked everywhere but at either of them. "I was born in Metaire, Louisiana." He cleared his throat. "I moved to Paris six years ago."

"So where's Cassandra MacFairlaigne? What did you do with her after you kidnapped her?" Joe leaned down to the man's eye level, deliberately pulled his gun out and took off the safety.

Ethan noticed the move. "But, Mack, what will we do with the body?"

"Weight it down, dump it in the river." Joe stepped back, locked his elbow and aimed the gun at Messier. "Like he did the MacFairlaigne girl."

"No!" Messier tried to scoot backwards but his legs were tied to the legs of the chair. "I never touched her." Suddenly, he glanced down at the floor, noted the clear plastic sheeting and went absolutely white.

"Of course," said Ethan. "You said you didn't kidnap her."

"Right." Messier nodded jerkily. "Right. Never touched her, never saw her, don't know her."

"Then what was it you sent to William MacFairlaigne," asked Joe. "A thank you note for firing you?"

"I didn't send anything."

Joe glared down at the man and took a gamble. "You forgot to dump the waste basket, Messier. We found the gloves."

"What gloves?"

"Did you know you can lift fingerprints from inside latex gloves?"

Messier went very still and slowly raised his head to look at Joe. "No..."

"What did you send to MacFairlaigne," asked Ethan.

Joe stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of his gun against the man's forehead. Brian Messier threw himself back, landing painfully on his back. "No!"

"I think you scared him," said Ethan, calmly.

"Not yet," muttered Joe. He stood over the man and aimed the gun for his head. "You botched the kidnapping didn't you." He tried to ignore the fear that wanted to well up inside of him for Casi. "You killed her and dumped the body but was still going to demand the ransom."

"I didn't touch her!" shouted Messier, still white and sweating heavily. "She escaped." He shook his head. "I mean---"

Joe stepped clear of him and switched the safety on his weapon. "Get him up," he told Ethan.

Ethan lifted the chair up, settling the man on all four legs. "So where's the money?"

Messier slumped bonelessly in the chair, whatever fight he'd had gone completely. "It's in the lining of my suitcases."

Joe took a deep breath, returned the gun to the waistband of his jeans. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, damn it. She escaped, the little wench. She was my ticket out of here."

Ethan cocked his head to one side. "What the hell were you going to do with five million dollars?"

"Pay off some debts. Get out of the country."

"Kidnapping is such a lucrative business," said Ethan.

Joe shot his partner a glare. "Where is Cassandra MacFairlaigne?"

"I don't know! I left to post the--"

The door swung open and a tall middle-aged man strode into the room. He took the scene in at one glance and scowled. "Is this how Americans do interrogations these days?"

"Inspector," said Liam, entering the room hesitantly as if controlling his reactions. "It was necessary."

Dupre' arched an eyebrow. "Monsieur, it cannot be considered a confession when under duress." He gestured to Messier, slumped in his chair. "This was an inquisition, not an interrogation. It may be that you have seriously undermined this investigation. If the press learns of this, it may destroy any chance of a serious investigation."

Joe took a deep breath and admitted to himself, he hadn't considered the consequences. "The money is in the lining of his suitcases. Is that proof enough?"

Dupre' studied him for a few minutes, then glanced at Messier. He turned and motioned two police officers standing in the doorway. "Take him to headquarters. I shall investigate his luggage." He glanced down at the plastic sheeting, then looked back at Joe as the two policemen cut Messier free from the chair. "I have always suspected Americans were bloodthirsty." The man shook his head and left, Messier and the policemen right behind him.

"What about Cassandra?" asked Liam.

"He said she escaped. Doesn't that sound like the Casi we all know and love," remarked Ethan, shaking his head.

"Then where is she?"

"We'll find her," promised Joe. "We'll find her."

***

21 May 2003

Cairo, Egypt

4:12 pm

She leaned on the wrought iron balcony and took a deep breath of the warm, dry air. The scents that filled her lungs--incense, smoke, car exhaust and animal smells--seemed so familiar. She closed her eyes and tried to just feel the city, experience it through sound....A marketplace, a carpet-seller's booth...blue eyes, sad and haunted...

A knock on the door made her open her eyes. Almost had it, she thought. The knock sounded again. In her mind's eye, she saw a tall, tanned man with sunstreaked hair come into the room. His attire was that of ancient Egypt....of the time...of Ramses..."Come in."

Michael poked his head in the crack in the door. "Everything okay?"

"Yes." Ariel left the balcony and went to the large airy room. "I'm pretty sure I have been here before."

He stepped into the room. "See? The trip's already doing you good."

Ariel smiled and walked over to him. "Thank you."

Michael touched her cheek. "You're very welcome."

Ariel put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "So, when do we meet Sarver?"

"Now, if you want."

Ariel nodded and they left her room, after locking her door. Michael led the way to the nearest elevator. "I want to warn you."

"About what?"

"Sheldon Reeves is one of a kind. He's British but was born and raised in France. He's a bit brusque."

"I can handle brusque."

"Sometimes he's even downright rude."

Ariel wrapped her hands around his arm as the elevator doors opened. "Relax, Michael. Everything will be fine."

***

Thane Sarver cut across the busy thoroughfare. After unloading his one suitcase in his room, he'd immediately headed for the museum. It had been nearly two months since he'd seen Sheldon and he was looking forward to seeing his friend and mentor again. Sheldon Reeves had taught him everything there was to know about archeology. He'd accompanied Reeves on other expeditions--Abydos, Luxor...and now Karnak. Sarver heaved a sigh and ducked into the coolness of the museum's lobby. What was the real significance of the bracelet and the statuette? What could it--?

Sarver stopped cold, staring. Sheldon Reeves was talking to three women but only one struck a chord with Sarver. This woman had a riot of sable curls spilling down her back. She was clad in a sky blue skirt that fell below her knees and a white blouse. She looked like--Oh, God, no. He spun on his heel to leave but wasn't quick enough.

"Doctor Sarver." Sheldon Reeves' accent declared his French birth despite the fact both parents had been British. "How good of you to come. How was the flight?"

"Fine." After turning and shaking Reeves' hand, Thane self-consciously stuffed his own hands in the pockets of his trousers.

"Doctor Sarver," said Sheldon, nodding to a tall tanned woman who's dark brown hair held the faintest tint of auburn. "This is Doctor Felicity Curtis. She's an Egyptologist. One of the best." He tipped a hand to the next woman who was clad in a shimmery sundress, her gold-streaked brown hair hanging loose nearly to her hips. "And this is her sister, Melia Curtis." Sheldon turned to the woman Thane knew. "And this is Miss Cristina Dimitri. She--"

"We've met." Cristina Dimitri studied his face a long moment. "Hello, Thane."

"Hello, Tina." Thane took a deep breath and met her dark-eyed gaze. "How are you?"

Cristina arched a slim brow, an amused look on her face. "I'm fine. You?"

"Just dandy."

Cristina smiled. "It's good to see you, Thane," she said softly. Six years ago, they'd met for the first time, both certain it was love at first sight. But time and distance had changed the feelings--at least for her. But it was good to see her first love after all this time.

Thane nodded. "Same here."

Reeves cleared his throat and gestured to a nearby display case. "Here are the objects."

As one, Cristina, Thane, Felicity and Melia turned to look at the items under glass. The cuff-style bracelet was of gold with squares of turquoise--six in all, separated by cylindrical beads of amber. The unicorn was polished pale green jade. The animal was rearing up and it's long mane and tail rippled in an imaginary breeze. The hooves, Thane noted, were clear crystal like the horn. It had no base but rested on the back hooves and the tip of the tail.

"They're beautiful," breathed Cristina.

Felicity leaned as close as the glass would allow. "They cannot be Egyptian. Wrong metals, wrong stones, wrong style." She tossed her long French braid over one shoulder and glanced at Reeves. "Obviously, someone is playing a prank."

"Really, Leesie, our dear brother would rather you think before you speak." Melia carefully tucked a strand of hair behind one ear and looked at Sheldon. "She's usually not quite so rude."

"That's quite all right," said Sheldon. His gaze shifted slightly. "Michael."

"Sheldon." Michael came up to the group and shook the older man's hand. "You took your time writing to me."

"So sue me," said Sheldon, mildly. He glanced at the young woman by Michael's side and felt the strangest feeling of deja vu. "And this is?"

"Ariel Hathaway, this is Sheldon Reeves."

"Nice to meet you."

Seldon smiled. "Pleasure's all mine." He gestured to the people by his side. "This is Melia and Felicity Curtis, Cristina Dimitri and this is--"

Thane turned, flashed Ariel a friendly smile. "We've met."

Ariel grined at him. "Hello, Thane."

Sheldon pointed to the display case. "Michael, have a look."

Michael took his first look and was awed. The pieces were exquisitely made. Ariel saw that Melia Curtis was studying her and it kept her from heading directly to the case herself. She held out a hand. "Hello."

Melia smiled and gave her hand a gentle shake, but before removing her hand from Ariel's her gold eyes widened and she gazed at their clasped hands. Ariel felt a faint tingling sensation shoot up her arm but didn't have any idea what it could mean. "Oh, Leesie," said Melia. "Come meet Ariel."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. We're not children anymore, stop calling me that." Felicity turned to Ariel. "Hello."

"Shake her hand," said Melia in a polite tone.

Felicity shot her sister a hard look but shook Ariel's hand. Again Ariel felt the tingle. From Felicity's expression, so did she. Melia gave a nod to her sister. "I knew you'd get a zing out of it."

Ariel gazed at Melia and felt as she'd met this woman before. There was something about her name that made Ariel ask, "What's Melia short for?"

"It's my middle name," said Melia airly. "Alexandra sounds so formal, so old-world."

"Amelia is a family name. Melia is a variation," said Felicity. She shook her head. "Never ask a simple question of my sister."

Ariel smiled at Felicity's tone. "What do you think about those?" she asked, gesturing to the case.

"Oh no, don't ask her opinion. Leesie doesn't have an imaginative bone in her body. Come Leesie dear, I know you've got tons of boring stuff to do. I'll get you away from all the hullabaloo." Melia waved at Ariel. "Have a delightful time."

Ariel watched Melia practically drag Felicity away, then turned to look at the objects in the case herself. "Oh wow. They're gorgeous." She placed her hands flat against the glass. "I wish I could hold the unicorn," she said in a hushed voice, not even aware she'd said it out loud.

"Perhaps I can accommodate you, Miss Hathaway," said Sheldon.

Ariel turned to see Sheldon gestured to a dark-skinned man in a summer suit. The man walked over quickly. "Yes, Mr. Reeves?"

"This is Benjamin Hassoud, assistant curator." Sheldon stated, then introduced everyone. "Do you mind opening the case?"

"Not at all, Mr. Reeves. It is understood you will be examining the objects. We have a room waiting." Hassoud unlocked the glass case.

"May I?" Ariel couldn't explain the urge she felt to hold the statue.

Hassoud glanced at her, then nodded. Carefully, he lifted the unicorn and placed it in her hands. Ariel's first impression was coolness. Cool to the touch and smooth. She closed her eyes and let the coolness seep into her fingers, her hands. The shift was subtle and for a moment, she thought she'd opened her eyes. She could see the room as if through a distorted lense, the furtherest corners and distant display cases blurred around the edges while up close, everything held a sharp edge of three dimensions. Thane was to her immediate right, Michael behind her, Cristina to her left, Hassoud right in front of her.

Like an arrow her sight aimed at a closed door and next thing she knew she was inside that room, seeing another exit, seeing danger. "It's not safe." She blinked her eyes open, startled she'd spoken out loud. Where had that come from?

Hassoud frowned. "This room?"

"No. The room you were taking us to. It has a separate exit. It's not secure." Ariel told herself to shut up.

Hassoud's dark eyes widened. "I do not understand. We have only chosen that room a mere hour ago..."

Reeves stepped forward. "I am curious, Miss Hathaway, how did you know?"

"I--" Ariel looked down at the unicorn, saw the eyes were set in and they were amber. Something about amber..."I saw it. When I held this."

Reeves arched a silver eyebrow. "Fascinating."

Hassoud practically snatched the unicorn back.

"May I see the turquoise bracelet," asked Cristina.

Hassoud looked ready to say no. Ariel couldn't ignore the impulse to grab the bracelet before Cristina. She slipped it on her left wrist without thinking. The turquoise were like chips of ice to her skin, then they heated up rapidly. She would learn the truth, she knew it. Ariel stared at the bracelet, then pulled it off and handed it to Cristina as if it had burned her.

Michael glanced at her. "You okay?"

Ariel backed up a few steps. "I--I don't know."

Reeves narrowed his ice-blue eyes. "Give her back the unicorn."

Hassoud frowned and handed it reluctantly back to her. Ariel stared down at the small statue in her hands, studied the eyes that seemed to be winking at her. She was suddenly aware that Michael was right behind her. She hadn't seen him, hadn't heard him move. She spun around. "Michael, what are you doing?"

"He was sneaking up on you," said Thane. "Strange. It's as if when you hold that, you shift into hyperalert mode."

Cristina nodded and glanced at the assistant curator. "Did you feel anything?"

Hassoud stared at Ariel and just shook his head.

Reeves carefully took the unicorn. "Allow me." He closed his eyes and stood very still. Finally, he shook his head and opened his eyes. "Nothing." He looked at Ariel. "You are a very intriguing woman, Miss Hathaway."

At that precise moment, Ariel wished she'd never come to Egypt. Something disastrous was about to happen...

***

21 May 2003

Orlando, FL

8:52 am

"Hell, Marc, I am not in the mood for cryptic remarks." Donovan MacFairlaigne's hands clenched reflexively. If he'd been holding the receiver, he would have probably cracked the plastic. "Justin called him then?"

"Yeah." Marc's tone was gruff, coming over the speakerphone. "Chill, Donovan, he and Ethan are over there right now."

"It's like locking the gate after the horse is stolen," snapped Donovan. "I don't know why we even bothered. He'll just walk out of her life again."

"Oh, like you know crap. He went over there, didn't he?"

"You just like him because he likes your music."

"Shit, Donovan, I am not that shallow. It's Case's choise anyway."

Donovan heaved a disgruntled sigh. When his sister had been kidnapped, he would have been the first person to Paris to go looking for her. But being the chief executive of the Orlando branch of MSI International kept him from taking off. "He walked out on her, damn it. He made his choice." Having to wait on news instead of being there was driving him crazy.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, then he heard Marc sigh. "You don't believe in fate?"

"Hell, no."

"So, it was just freaking coincidence you met Britt?"

"Random chance."

"Sure, yeah, whatever."

"Marcus--"

"That almighty holier-than-thou tone don't do shit anymore, bro. We're not sheep and you sure as hell ain't no shepherd."

Donovan frowned. "Marc, don't hang up."

Marc grunted. "Do me a favor, bro, and call Dad. I got rehearsal."

Donovan groaned as his brother hung up with a bang. He hit the button to hang up. He'd call Cat but she'd hung up on him the last time, too. Of course, the circumstances had been different. He stared at his desk, the papers stacked in the requisite trays. The computer was up and running, the screensaver's technicolor morphing graphics hypnotic if he stared at it long enough. He could hear Catherine's voice as plain as day..."You did what? Shit, Donovan, Casi'd flay you alive. She's an adult. You had no right. You ought to be ostracized."...

Donovan massaged his temples. He could feel a headache coming on. Part of it was the usual job related stress but the bulk was worrying over Casi. He'd feared her talent for trouble would eventually backfire--but not like this. And, he thought morosely, it all hinged on MacKensey. The problem was, Joe was too easy to like. He was a lot like Marcus--a little goofy, a little serious--always a good time at parties.

Donovan winced at the memory of that one Christmas party at MSI-New York. Truth was, the hostage situation would have lasted hours longer if it hadn't been for Joe's intervention. He should have seen it then. Casi had worked alongside Joe as if they'd been partners forever. He shook his head and thought about the other man in Casi's life. In terms of stability and reliability, Chad Whitfield couldn't be a better choice. If only Casi could see that.

Donovan reached for the telephone again and dialed an overseas number. He heard the secretary say, "MacFairlaigne Software Incorporated, Paris office," first in French, then English.

"William MacFairlaigne, please."

"One moment, monsieur." There was a click, then a familiar voice came on the line. "MacFairlaigne here."

"Hello, Dad," said Donovan, switching to speakerphone again. Less temptation to break something.

"Donovan, hello." As if knowing the reason he'd called, Liam added," Thanks to Joe and Ethan, the kidnapper is in jail."

"And Casi?"

"They're looking for her. It's only a matter of time."

Donovan felt a niggle of worry. "Isn't that a little optimistic, Dad? Paris is a huge city."

"Joe's determined, Donovan."

Donovan scowled. "Seems a little hypocritical to me."

"Back off, Donovan."

Donovan was surprised at his father's tone. "He'll walk away when the crisis is over. He's made a career of that."

"You're starting to sound like your mother, Donovan. Joe loves Casi."

"Dad--"

"He wouldn't have come, if he didn't."

Donovan shook his head even though his father couldn't see him. "That doesn't make sense. What if he walks away again? What if he walks out of her life again?"

His father heaved a weary sigh. "Then he'll have to answer to God--and Casi."

***

21 May 2003

Paris, France

11:58 am

"Paris has how many people?" commented Ethan as the elevator moved downward smoothly.

"I lost count."

"Joe, it's the proverbial needle in the haystack."

"Your point being?"

"You have to be in Bulgaria by Friday."

"I'll find her, Ethan." Joe left the elevator as soon as it stopped and the doors parted.

Ethan followed with a sigh. "How?"

"I know Casi, Ethan. She eluded Messier. But I will find her." Joe led the way outside to the grey Nissan and determinedly got in the driver's seat.

"How?" demanded Ethan as he sat down in the passenger seat.

"Start thinking like Casi."

"Oh really."

Shooting his partner a glare, Joe peeled out of the parking lot, slamming Ethan back against his seat. "Really."

Ethan settled deeper into his seat. "Damn, Mario Andretti, slow down."

"I am not driving that fast."

"No. You just left the muffler back there."

"Shut up."

"So...where are we going?"

"To where Casi was held."

Ethan glanced at his partner. "Joe, no."

"He lied about everything else."

"No. Cathy would have known. Hell, her whole family would have known."

Joe braked to a halt in front of the gate that led to the tall soaring edifice of the Notre Dame Cathedral. Ethan looked around, then looked at the cathedral. "Why are we stopping here?"

"This is the place."

"Here?"

Joe walked across the flagstones and up the steps, past the life-size bas-relief carvings. He hesitated a moment, before the heavy metal double doors, telling himself he was waiting for Ethan. Ethan glanced at the carvings of saints and martyrs and scowled. "I half expect 'em to walk right out of the wall."

A man opened the left-hand door, clad in a simple brown robe. "May I help you?"

Joe cleared his throat. "We're here to see the scene of the crime."

The man crossed himself and touched his fingers to his lips, and moved to let them inside. "Such shame that it was here. Come with me, monsieurs." He led them down a stone staircase that seemed to twist forever. Dim candlebra bulbs in old sconces didn't do much to relieve the gloom. The man cleared his throat. "I am Father Alasdair. These underground passages had been believed to have sealed off after the war."

The stone stairway came to a stop and the priest continued. "There are other entrances all over Paris, many collapsed and sealed off, but apparantly not all." It was nearly half an hour later when they reached the room. "We are no longer beneath the cathedral. We have crossed under the river and are now within half a block of MSI-Paris."

"The son of a--" Joe swallowed the rest of his words. "Come on, Ethan."

Ethan smiled at the priest. "Thank you."

Alasdair nodded. "Bienvenue," he said and left.

Ethan watched him leave. "Oh crap. What's that word for thank you? That's what I should have said."

"Merci."

"For what?"

Joe groaned, grabbed Ethan by the arm and yanked, half-dragging him into the room. "Come on."

"Hey, no need to manhandle." Ethan pushed his partner away and looked around. "Ugh."

The place was small and stuffy. The cot was minus it's mattress and a fine powder coated everything. Ethan's nose itched. "They've been all over this place, Joe. There's nothing here."

Joe didn't answer him. The urge to come here had been strong and unavoidable. He scanned the room slowly. "You don't know that."

"Joe--"

Joe's blue eyes rested on the cot frame. Suddenly, he hefted the frame and flipped it over.

Ethan dodged out of the way just in time. "Shit, Joe. Warn me next time."

"And miss that priceless expression?"

Ethan shook a fist at him. "I'll show you priceless."

Joe saw the legs were hollow and stuck his fingers in one cavity.

Ethan groaned. "You get bit by a spider, I'm leaving you here to die--or turn into Spiderman, whichever comes first."

"Such concern is so touching." Joe tried another leg on the frame.

"And if it's a snake, well, it's been nice knowin' you, pal."

The tips of Joe's fingers brushed against something. "Thanks loads, pard."

"Hey...any time."

Joe tugged the object out of the metal tube and went ice cold.

Ethan turned serious. "Holy shit. What was that doing in there?"

"It's Casi's." Joe held up the pearl by it's chain. Marrekech seemed another lifetime ago.

"Why didn't Messier take it?"

Why hadn't he, wondered Joe. He remembered so clearly her storming out of that dump of a hotel room, her words that morning: "You won't lose it, Joe. Right now, it's the only piece of me you've got." Slowly, he let the pearl fall into his other hand. It was warm to the touch and for that brief instant, he thought of his mother's brooch, then his mind went curiously blank and his eyes drifted shut....

...sweat coated the skin, the light material of the sundress stuck to her...she had to get out...stupid..stupid...he couldn't find the pearl...it retained memories...I'm okay...mad-furious-angry...have to escape...have to prove to him I can take care of myself...

Joe's eyes popped open and he sucked in a breath. God, he'd forgotten what had happened. He let go of the pearl so fast he nearly dropped it. He caught it by the chain and stuffed it in his pocket. "She's okay." Relief flooded through him as he realized it. "She's okay."

Ethan scowled. "What, the pearl told you?"

"It's a long story, Ethan. Let's go."

***

21 May 2003

Cairo, Egypt

4:23 pm

"Right this way," said Benjamin Hassoud.

As Ariel followed the group to the new work room, her hand went to her throat. She missed the pearl. She stopped, seeing the pearl necklace vividly. Had she lost it?

Michael glanced back at her. "Ariel, are you okay?"

She nodded. "Uh..yes, I'm fine." She followed him into a dark room. Suddenly the lights flicked on and a chill snaked through her. This room...she'd been here before. Rows of metal shelving held assorted boxes and crates meticulously labeled. One box caught her eye and---

"I'm not sure I understand," came a deep masculine voice.

"This was found in a tomb, sir. It is not Egyptian, I assure you," came a different voice.

"I still don't understand. My wife's the archeologist." The speaker was tall, dark-haired, the face strangely out of focus.

"Hey, Dad, I want to see," came a different voice, female, young...weirdly familiar.

"Wow," said another voice, an echo of the first female voice.

"Hey is that what I think it is?"

"Put it on."

"No, no, no, it is very fragile."

Ariel blinked and without thinking, took the box down. Hassoud hurried to her side. " Do not touch anything in this room," he said and moved to take the box from her.

Ariel stepped back, glaring at him, experiencing the oddest feeling of deja vu. She opened the box one-handed and looked inside. She carefully set the box down and pulled the top object free of the packing foam. It was circular like a crown, made of silver. Brass horns--small and looking like a crescent moon on its side, points up--was in the front and in the middle of the crescent was a stone a swrling of red, orange and darker red. Yes, this was it.

"What in God's name is that?" asked Reeves, stunned.

Hassoud cleared his throat. "It is a circlet, Mr. Reeves. It was found in a small tomb seven years ago."

Thane took a step forward. "It's not Egyptian."

Ariel shook her head. "No." Her eyes went to the Egyptian assistant curator. The second male voice had been his, she was sure of it.

Michael frowned. "How did you know it was there?"

Ariel looked around the room, dazedly. "I think I've been here before."

Cristina Dimitri stepped forward. "I've seen something like this before. The High Priestess wears it."

Ariel gave Cristina an odd look and for the briefest of moments was in a shop that sold something, with beads hanging from a doorframe that separated the shop from the personnel area. A box, cards and then the flash of memory was gone.

Thane arched an eyebrow. "High priestess of what?"

"Wicca," replied Michael. "The Wiccan religion, apparently borrowing heavily from the ancient Celtic religion."

Sheldon frowned. "Witches."

Ariel's head shot up and she stared at him as another face came to mind. Heart-shaped, framed by long dark hair, eyes that were as clear as pure water. She knew this woman, knew her, hated her. This woman was a witch. Thane shaking his head brought her back to her surroundings. "Witchcraft was never a big influence here," he said.

"Yes, but if your Atlantis theory is right, the North Sea people came here."

"Throwing my words back at me, Michael?" asked Thane. "It's not even my theory."

"We're not here to discuss Atlantis," said Sheldon. "May I hold the circlet, Miss Hathaway?"

Ariel nodded. "But please call me Ariel."

Sheldon smiled. "Of course." He took the circlet, studied it, then placed it on the table beside the bracelet and the statue. "Anything else, Hassoud?"

"Hassoud?" A slender woman, her long goldred hair rippling over one shoulder came into the room. "I've been looking all over for you," she said, her accent soft but native.

Hassoud gave a slight bow. "Mrs. Laughlin, forgive me."

The woman shrugged, her eyes flicking to Reeves. "Sheldon?"

He raised his head. "Why, Calandra, hello."

"When did you get back?"

"Yesterday." He skirted the table to shake her hand.

Calandra smiled and Ariel realized what was wrong. The woman's left eye was a brilliant azure blue but her right eye was green. She'd seen cats with different colored eyes but never a human. Calandra shook her head. "Kendall will be most upset when he finds you've been here twenty-four hours and haven't stopped by."

"Perhaps before I leave for Karnak."

Calandra's eyes rested on the items on the table. "My, my, what's all this?"

"A mystery."

"Indeed," agreed Calandra. "None of these are even remotely Egyptian." She stroked the unicorn, then suddenly snatched her hand back. Ariel stepped forward. "Are you okay?" Up close the woman looked to be in her early forties.

Calandra nodded. "Yes. And you are?"

"Ariel Hathaway."

"Calandra Laughlin."

A man walked into the room, his dark brown hair was curly and his hazel eyes keen. He zeroed in on Reeves. "Damn it, I thought it was just a rumor," he said cheerfully. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Kendall." Reeves lost his distracted look. "It's good to see you, Kendall."

"Same here." Kendall walked to Calandra's side and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Have you told him?"

"Told me what?" asked Reeves.

"Kendall," said Calandra, affectionately. "Behave."

"Tell him, Cal."

Calandra smiled. "It looks like Les will get a sister--"

"Or a brother."

"Hush, Kendall."

Kendall's grin widened. "Marsh says everything's perfect."

Sheldon Reeves shook his head. "Amazing. Does Leslie know?"

Calandra sighed. "We called the estate in Honolulu but she wasn't there. You know she works for Whitfield."

Ariel swallowed hard. Whitfield. God, that name sounded familiar.

"Like father, like daughter," said Sheldon.

Kendall nodded. "Sometimes I wonder."

Calandra laughed gently. "Leslie is one of a kind."

Ariel took a deep breath. "Congratulations."

Kendall glanced at her, then did a double take. "Do I--?"

"Mr. Laughlin, there you are," came a woman's breathless voice. "I thought we were supposed to meet at your office."

Kendall turned to see a dark-haired woman, her hair in twin braids, walk into the room. "M.J., you know me. I get distracted with the least little thing."

Ariel turned and felt a moment's deja vu again. Only the girl she saw in her mind wasn't wearing a long twill skirt and colorful blouse with billowy sleeves. M.J. glanced at Ariel and smiled. "Hi." She looked around the room, then back at Ariel. "You must be new to the team. I know everyone else here."

"Ariel Hathaway."

"Mary Jane Callaghan," said the girl, shaking Ariel's hand. She glanced down at the their clasped hands, then carerfully pulled her hand free. "My friends call me M.J."

Ariel didn't want to acknowledge she'd felt the tingle again as M.J. turned to Reeves. "My dear cousin Melia couldn't wait to tell me all about the things you found. Where are they?"

Sheldon laughed. "They're over here. Actually, Hassoud, was there anything else stored in that box?"

Ariel felt her attention turn to the box. There was something else, she knew. She bent down and felt inside. It was something heavy and ice-cold. She pulled it free and felt a chill. It was a chalice made of gold. In the center of the etched design was a square smooth stone the color of oranges. She touched it with the tip of her finger and felt a vibration. She shivered.

Michael came over to her, helped to her feet. "What do you feel?"

"Cold." She shoved the chalice into his hands, still shivering. "There's something..." She looked at her finger, startled to find a single bead of dark red blood on her fingertip. The stone she'd touched had been smooth. What had she pricked her finger on? The urge to lick the blood, to taste it was suddenly overwhelming. A single word came to mind...vampires.

Cristina handed her a tissue. "Here."

She pressed her finger against the tissue, watched it soak up the blood, then looked at her finger. There wasn't a single mark on the tip. Fear welled up in her. That chalice was evil, she knew it.

"Are you okay?" asked Thane.

Ariel shook her head and started for the door, not caring that everyone seemed focused on her. "I have to go."

Michael set the chalice on the table and made to go after her. Sheldon's voice stopped him. "Let her go, Michael."

"She needs protection."

"Why?" asked Kendall,staring out the open door. From his vantage point, he saw her walk to the nearest exit.

"Someone was after her. We think he was trying to kill her."

"Who's we?" asked Thane.

"Who was trying to kill her?" asked Calandra, startled.

Michael took a deep breath. "We as in Nick Quinn and myself. We're not sure who's trying to kill her. But it's possible she was shot. She has amnesia."

Sheldon narroweed his ice-blue eyes. "But you have suspicisons."

"Yes."

"Who?" asked Kendall.

"Brian Messier, in Paris."

"Then she's safe for now."

Michael glared at Thane. "And how the hell do you figure that?"

"Gentlemen," said Kendall. "We have business to tend to." He glanced at Sheldon. "I want everyone at my place tonight. We'll discuss it all then." He jerked his head toward the door. "Bring her too."

Thane glanced at Michael to answer his question. "The guy's still in Paris, she's here."

Michael sighed. "Maybe. Maybe she's safe here. Then again maybe she isn't."

"You always were a pessimist, weren't you."

Michael groaned. Thane always had to have the last word...

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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.