After we unpacked what little we’d brought with us, we went up on deck. In the prow was a low chest with a tray, sodas and glasses of ice. There was no sign of Samantha or Tommy, so we settled on cushions and sipped our drinks while the sun set slowly over the horizon. It flamed red, making the desert look like it was on fire.

The last rays of sunshine shone through the pale sails of the feluccas, small fishing boats, turning them a deep-orange red. These small narrow boats had been the mode of travel on the Nile for centuries.

In the distance, we heard voices speaking Arabic and Egyptian and for a moment, I knew if I closed my eyes, it could have been around 3000 B.C. – during the reign of Menes, the first pharaoh to govern both Lower Egypt and Upper Egypt. The weird thing is Upper Egypt is really the southern part while Lower Egypt is the northern part. But it has to do with the fact the Nile flows north rather than south, like the Mississippi.

When we’d first found out we were coming to Egypt my brother had checked out books on Egypt to tell us all about it. It’s predominantly a Muslim country and the people who live here have strict rules due to their religion. They don’t eat pork and they face Mecca five times a day to pray.

The men aren’t allowed to shave, so they all sport beards. The women have to dress very carefully, covering everything, except their face. Things are done differently, and a common phrase we’ve heard this past week is Inshallah. Captain Ali told us that it means ‘If Allah wills’.

Just then, a gleaming black Cadillac pulled up to the dock, shattering the whole illusion of the past – and a uniformed chauffeur got out. He opened the rear door and offered his hand to help a young woman get out, but she didn’t take it.

She wore a kaffiyeh, a simple scarf, around her head, dark sunglasses and a beige cotton robe. Her long glossy black hair tumbled out from the kaffiyeh and she moved gracefully. She looked like she was about twenty years old. I glanced at Frank, who was shading his eyes with his hand to get a better look.

The chauffeur went around to the other side to help someone else out. The man was on the heavy side, wearing a khaki outfit that had to have been custom-made for him. He also wore dark shades and a Panama hat. Despite his large size he moved quickly and headed for the boat.

“Ah, Dr. Mounir! Welcome, welcome, Salaam Alaikum,” I heard Hassan say.

“As Alaikum Salaam,” Dr. Mounir answered in a deep rumbling voice. He gestured to the pretty girl. “This is my doctoral assistant, Miss Leila Abdul. She will be traveling with us. Please make up a cabin for her.”

“Yes, of course,” Hassan said. He bowed and led them up the gangplank.

“That must be the assistant director at the Antiquities Department Samantha mentioned,” I said.

Frank didn’t answer. He was watching Leila walk onto the deck. I rolled my eyes and sighed rather loudly. And he said I was starstruck over Samantha. Whatever. Mounir and his assistant were soon out of sight but down on the dockside, an old battered taxi pulled up.

A short, thin bearded man clad in a white linen suit complete with tie got out. He wasn’t wearing a hat to hide his balding head and his thick glasses reflected back up at me like two setting suns.

If he saw us sitting there, he didn’t acknowledge it. He glanced left and right and then scurried up the gangway and onto the ship. I frowned at his behavior. “Wonder who that is?” I muttered.

“Maybe that famous Egyptologist Samantha said was coming?” guessed Frank. “What was his name again?”

I shrugged. “I think it was Russian. But wasn’t that strange how he seemed to sneak on board?”

Frank didn’t look too concerned. “Maybe he’s just that way. Let’s just lie low, make a note of it and see what else we can find out.”

***

The sky grew dark as we sat there and hundreds, if not thousands, of stars came out, brilliant glimmers against the dark blue of the sky. I’d never seen so many stars and I could even see the different colors. The Ramses II weighed anchor and set off on our journey up the Nile, toward the south.

A cool breeze swept our hair back, scented with something floral but spicy. Again I felt that feeling that it would be so easy to imagine being back in Ancient Egypt, sailing along in a royal barge or something.

“Did you know Abydos is one of the oldest cities, inhabited long before the first dynasty kings lived?” said Frank, staring up at the night sky.

Frank’s like Mom sometimes, spouting out trivia at all times. One of these days his head’s gonna explode. I sighed. “So?”

“No one’s done a complete excavation of Abydos. It’s said that the kings buried there are marked with a stele with their name on it. Apparently this Menes was buried secretly or reburied.”

I wrinkled up my nose. “Reburied?”

“Yeah. During the time of the kings being buried in the Valley of the Kings, tomb robbers were a menace. Sometimes, the kings’ mummies were removed and hidden to keep them protected.”

“Mummies,” I muttered. “You know, it makes for a great movie but—“

“Yeah. I agree. It was a real hand that planted that dagger, not a fictional monster.”

I sighed and turned around. “Why don’t we go see what everyone else is doing and maybe find something to eat.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We went toward amidships and down a flight of stairs below decks. Toward the stern were the smaller cabins while amidships there was a narrow galley and a good-sized dining area. The double doors to the dining room were open and we could see that the video team had set up their lights for taping.

When it was obvious they were between takes, Frank and I stepped inside. Once my eyes adjusted to the glare of the spotlights, I could make out Tommy sitting in the dark shadows off to one side. I turned my attention back to the ‘set’. A man we hadn’t seen before sat in a chair on one side. He was good-looking in a rugged sort of way, about thirty years old with long, styled brown hair. He wore a stylish short-sleeve shirt in a muted green and khakis. On his lap was a clipboard with notes.

Four people sat facing him in a row: Dr. Mounir, his assistant Leila, Samantha Chilton and the little bald man with the beard we’d seen sneaking onto the ship. He looked a tad nervous now. He was holding a drink in his hand and it was shaking enough to make the ice-cubes tinkle.

A roly-poly guy with a buzz cut adjusted a boom mike that hung above the five peoples’ heads, just out of camera range. The cameraman was busy adjusting his focus. He had a halo of long, wild curly red hair.

“Quiet on the set,” said the sound technician.

“And, rolling...” said the cameraman. “Take three, and...action.”

The interviewer nodded. “Dr. Mounir, what is your job on this expedition?”

Mounir smiled at the camera rather than the interviewer. “I shall watch over and catalog all the treasures we find, to make sure that they are not stolen, broken or mishandled. These treasures shall forever belong to all the Egyptian people, as part of their glorious heritage.”

I wasn’t really watching Mounir but I did notice that his assistant looked rather agitated. The interviewer shifted his attention to the little guy. “What about you, Dr. Volsky?”

“I am here to verify the authenticity of all the objects as we unearth them,” he said. “I will also place them in context – that is, describe their relationship to each other, and to their time in history.”

“Dr. Volsky is the world’s leading expert on this,” Samantha Chilton interrupted. “I’m so delighted he could come with us. With Dr. Volsky, Dr. Mounir...” Her intense expression faded to a smile as she eyed the interviewer. “And you, Theo, everything we do will be carefully documented for all to see.” She bounced in her seat and smiled even wider.

I noticed Leila was even more agitated. Her mouth twitched slightly in disgust. It was clear she didn’t like Samantha. Was it just because Sam was a flirt? Or maybe what Leila didn’t like was that the woman seemed to be making a circus out of the expedition.

“And what about the so-called Curse of the Mummy?” asked Theo, in a grand tone of voice, like he was announcing the title of a spooky story. He had a slight European accent but I couldn’t place it.

Dr. Mounir pulled out a white handkerchief and patted his mustached upper lip. He nodded his head gravely. “Ah, yes, the curse. I think we must all be very careful, lest we disrespect the dead. Who knows what powers the ancients had, or still have? I do not think it is crazy to believe in such things as curses.”

Dr. Volsky snickered. “Ridiculous.”

“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Mounir sounded scandalized and his black eyes went wide.

“Utterly absurd,” Dr. Volsky insisted. “These stories of curses are nothing more than fairy tales. We must stick to science and only science!”

Mounir’s eyes blazed with anger. “Do not forget, my esteemed friend,” he said making the word friend sound like a curse word, “that after the discovery of King Tutankhamen’s tomb, so many of the expedition’s members died...mysteriously.”

Volsky shook his head. “Not true. The story of finding a fragment of a curse is poppycock. If anyone should have suffered the worst fate, it would have been Carter. But he lived longest of all the expedition.”

Mounir didn’t look very happy to be disagreed with. “There is more in this world than your modern science can explain,” he snapped.

“I wonder,” said Theo.

Volsky snorted. “I, for one, am not afraid of such curses.”

“Oh no? Then why are your hands shaking?” asked Dr. Mounir.

“Just a reflex,” said Volsky angrily, both hands gripping his glass tightly.

“What about you, Ms. Abdul?” Theo broke in, trying to head off the argument – or maybe encourage it. “What do you think about curses?”

I saw her glance at Mounir who gave a tiny shake of his head. Her shoulders went stiff and she glared down at the muted carpet on the floor. After a moment, she looked at Theo. “I believe in respecting our history and our culture. The ancients have much to teach us, if we are humble enough to listen.”

“Ah,” said Theo, smiling, “very wise.”

From the darkness, I heard Tommy snicker.

“Cut!” said the cameraman. “Let’s do another take. I picked up a noise.”

“People, please!” said Theo, sounding weary. “We need complete quiet here, or we’ll be doing this all night. You’ll have a chance to give your opinions.”

“Maybe, Theo, Tommy should just wait outside,” suggested Samantha.

“Good idea,” said Theo.

“You don’t want me around? Fine!” Tommy got up, kicked his folding director’s chair so that it collapsed and started for the door. “I’m only the executive producer,” he muttered as he stormed out of the room, one hand crushing an empty bottle labeled with the name of a popular sports drink.

“You’ll have to forgive him,” Samantha told the rest of us. “He’s not used to foreign customs.”

“Foreign customs?” Leila repeated, getting to her feet. Her tone was scornful. “You mean, like being polite? Being humble? Having manners?” She stomped off, leaving the dining room herself.

“I guess we’ll have to break for the night,” Theo said with a sigh of frustration. “Nels, you can pack away the camera. Jurgen, you get the lights and the sound equipment. We’ll set up on shore in the morning.”

“Mummies’ curses. Ridiculous,” muttered Volsky as he got up. He started for a small bar in one corner of dining room but Mounir stepped in his path. Volsky skittered back a step, nearly dropping his empty glass. “What?”

“You are here at the purveyance of the Egyptian government,” said Mounir, gravely. “I suggest you do nothing to destroy your reputation here.”

I shared a look with Frank. That had sounded almost like a threat.

“You can’t do that. You know very well, the director would pull the plug on this farce of an expedition in a heartbeat if he were in the country.”

Mounir’s expression changed slightly. “Dr. Hawiss is overseeing the loan of Egyptian artifacts to the Egyptian Museum in California.”

Volsky looked at the larger man, a smug expression on his face. “The only reason we’re all here.”

I shared another look with Frank, who motioned for us to leave. We left the dining room and I remembered we were going to get something to eat. I pointed to the galley and we ducked in there. I went straight to the gleaming steel double refrigerator. “Whew, that was a bit tense.”

Frank leaned a hip against the counter. “I noticed. Leila looked like she wanted to say something other than what she said.”

I glanced around the open door, my hands full of sandwich stuff. “You saw that too? Wonder what Mounir meant, what he told Volsky?”

Frank moved to the narrow counter opposite the refrigerator. “You have to get all sorts of permissions, papers signed and stuff to go on an archaeological expedition in Egypt. For centuries, when archaeology was first making headway here, anyone and everyone could help themselves to artifacts. It’s also why the British Museum has so much more Egyptian artifacts than Cairo’s own museum does.”

I made a quick sandwich of turkey, chicken and cheese. I took a bite and wondered if they had chips. “So...the Egyptian government has a big say in this?”

“Yes. I’m curious what Dr. Volsky meant, about the director pulling the plug.”

I watched Frank make a sandwich and shrugged. “Obviously, this Dr. Hawiss doesn’t know what’s going on?” I thought a moment. “Frank...”

“What?”

“You don’t think Mounir’s going to try and steal Samantha’s thunder on this do you?”

“It’s possible.” He put up the sandwich stuff and we headed back to our cabin, armed with snacks and sodas. Once inside, we settled on our bunks and finished our supper. He sat there a moment. “I have to wonder about Tommy as well. He seems to have a real chip on his shoulder.”

I nodded. “I thought that chair was gonna splinter into pieces, the way he kicked it.” I took a deep breath and popped the tab on my soda. “I feel like we’re getting in deep here.”

Frank sighed. “Yeah.” He stared at the old-style lamp hanging from the ceiling. He’d told me earlier it had once been an oil lamp but had been converted to electricity, probably when the yacht was customized. Did I tell you he thinks he knows everything?

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just thinking.”

“Keep me out of it.”

He just looked at me, like I was making a joke. I wasn’t. It always happens. Frank comes up with a brilliant, fool-proof plan that’s going to save the day. There’s only one hitch, one little problem – it usually involves me doing something utterly stupid. “Frank...”

“I’m not planning anything...yet.”

“That’s so encouraging...not.” I munched on a candy bar. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Before I could say another word, a piercing scream made us both jump to our feet. I nearly dropped my can. “That came from Samantha Chilton’s room.”

We took off for her room. We found the door to her cabin wide open. She was inside – alive, thank goodness. She looked pretty shaken up though.

I touched her shoulder, could feel her trembling. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, then she shook her head. “No. I’m not fine. You wouldn’t be fine either, if you’d just been knocked down by a mummy!”

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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.