Blood Lines

the sarcophagus."
    'Why?" The British Egyptologist snorted. "Need some help identifying it?"
    Abruptly, Dr. Rax remembered why, and how much, he disliked the other man. "I think I can manage to classify it, thank you. I was just wondering if any of your people had seen the artifact."
    'No need. We saw the rest of the junk Montclair dragged out of his nooks and crannies. You'd think that with all the precious bits and pieces leaving Egypt at the time, his Lordship's ancestor could have brought home something worthwhile, even by accident, wouldn't you?"
    Professional ethics warred with desire. Ethics won. "About the sarcophagus…"
    'Look, Dr. Rax…" On the other end of the line, Dr. Davis sighed explosively. "… this sarcophagus might be a big thing for you, but trust me, we've got all we need. We have storerooms of important, historically significant artifacts we may never have time to study." And you don't , was the not too subtly implied message. "I think we can allow one unadorned hunk of basalt to go to the colonies."
    'So I can send for my preparators and start packing it up?" Dr. Rax asked quietly, his tone in severe contrast to the white-knuckled grip that twisted the phone cord.
    'If you're sure you don't want to use a couple of my people…"
    Not if my only other option was to carry the sarcophagus on my lap all the way home . "No, thank you. I'm sure all your people have plenty of historically significant things to do."
    'Well, if that's the way you want it, be my guest. I'll have the paperwork done up and sent down to you at the Hall.
    You'll be able to get your artifact out of the country as easily as if it were a plaster statue of Big Ben." Which, his tone said clearly, is about its equivalent value .
    'Thank you, Dr. Davis." You pompous, egocentric asshole . Dr. Rax added silently as he hung up. Oh, well , he soothed his lacerated conscience, no one can say I didn't try .
    He straightened his jacket and turned to face the hovering baron, smiling reassuringly. "I believe you said that 50,000
    pounds was your asking price…?"
    'Uh, Dr. Rax…" Karen Lahey stood and dusted off her knees. "Are you sure the Brits don't want this?"

    'Positive." Dr. Rax touched his breast and listened for a second to the comforting rustle of papers in his suit pocket. Dr.
    Davis had been as good as his word. The sarcophagus could leave England as soon as it was packed and insurance had been arranged.
    Karen glanced down at the seal. That it held the cartouche of Thoth and not one of the necropolis symbols was rare enough. What the seal implied was rarer still. "They knew about…" She waved a hand at the clay disk.
    'I called Dr. Davis right after I discovered it." Which was true, as far as it went.
    She frowned and glanced over at the other preparator. His expression matched hers. Something was wrong. No one in his right mind would give up a sealed sarcophagus and the promise that represented. "And Dr. Davis said…?" she prodded.
    'Dr. Davis said, and I quote, 'This sarcophagus might be a big thing for you, but we've got all we need. We have storerooms of important, historically significant artifacts we may never have time to study.' " Dr. Rax hid a smile at the developing scowls. "And then he added, 'I think we can let one unadorned hunk of basalt go to the colonies.'"
    'You didn't tell him about the seal, did you, Doctor?"
    He shrugged. "After that, would you?"
    Karen's scowl deepened. "I wouldn't tell that patronizing son of a bitch, excuse my French, the time of day. You leave this with us, Dr. Rax, and we'll pack it up so that even the spiderwebs arrive intact."
    Her companion nodded. "Colonies," he snorted. "Just who the hell does he think he is?"
    Dr. Rax had to stop himself from skipping as he left the room. The Curator of Egyptology, Royal Ontario Museum, did not skip. It wasn't dignified. But no one mortared, then sealed, an empty coffin.
    'Yes!" He allowed himself one jubilant punch at the air in the privacy of the deserted upper cellar. "We've got ourselves a mummy!"
    The movement had begun again and the memories strengthened. Sand and sun. Heat. Light. He had no need to remember darkness; darkness had been his companion for too long .
    As the weight of the sarcophagus made flying out of the question, a leisurely trip back across the Atlantic on the grand old lady of luxury ocean liners, the QE II, would have been nice. Unfortunately, the acquisitions budget had been stretched almost to the breaking point