Her Kind of Trouble by Evelyn Vaughn

convince them to buy your tapestry out from under you. Not to mention that it would take a hell of a lot of money to fund a buyout that quick…ly… "
    Her eyebrows arched as I remembered that, in fact, I
had
told someone about that particular tapestry.
    Someone who could afford to purchase it for the museum.
    Someone I'd wrongly suspected of planting a tracking device in my luggage…or my faux wedding ring.
    Someone I'd promised to call when I got to the hotel!
    "Damn it." If I had my cell phone, I could've called him from the room, but Hani Rachid had taken care of that. There was nothing for it but to put my clothes back on and head downstairs to use the phone in the lobby.
    Either that, or wait until morning. And I was already feeling guilty about Lex, after the tracking device.
    "You do know something," guessed Cat, as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood to dress.
    "Water under the bridge, Catrina." I doubted it really was, but my words seemed to annoy her, which made them worthwhile anyway. "I just remembered I need to make a phone call. Delightful though this little bit of bonding has been… "
    She made a rude sound and scooped up her singed book, and I pulled on a skirt and blouse over my PJ's, grabbed my key and some change for the pay phone, and headed down the stairs. By now it was well after
midnight
, Egypt time, which made it early the previous evening in the city.
    The way the desk clerk ogled me as I struggled with the operator on the pay phone made me glad I hadn't just grabbed a robe, even if most of the clientele at this particular hotel were European.
    Placing long-distance calls from a foreign country is a challenge under the best of circumstances, much less when dizzy with exhaustion. After finding an operator who spoke English, I finally had to place the call collect. I hated to do it, but my change purse had been stolen. No way did I have enough twenty-five- or even fifty-piastre coins for long distance.
    Of course Lex agreed to accept the charges. I hadn't realized how hungry I was to hear his voice until I relaxed at that little reassurance. When the operator went away, the first thing I said was, "Thanks. I'll pay you back."
    His response was, "So who's Hani Rachid, and what's he doing with your phone?"
    ----
    Chapter 8

     
    Compared to the previous day, scuba diving in suspicious seawater thicker than a London fog seemed downright relaxing.
    Really. All sarcasm aside.
    At least
this
had something to do with Isis and my initial quest. Not to mention, I love diving. I love swimming in general…even when I'm completely protected from the aforementioned iffy water. The dry suit I wore was bulkier than a standard wet suit, with attached booties under my fins and a monster of a zipper up the back which had required a friend's help to zip.
    Needless to say, that friend was not Catrina Dauvergne.
    The suit also came with gloves and a hood, to complete my protection against the water. It was inflated slightly with a buoyancy compensator, requiring the use of weights on my ankles and waist. I really was dry—and yet I was
swimming
, submerged in almost thirty feet of murky water, trying to stay out of the way of the other divers as they clustered like hungry fish around a stone the size of a minivan which they meant to move.
    With any luck, this block would turn out to be a pylon from the entrance to the
Temple
of
Isis
. The archeologists needed only to confirm it. That would take hieroglyphs they suspected were carved into the front of it, which, Murphy's Law being what it was, lay facedown in the sand.
    If this stone had guarded the
Temple
of
Isis
…
    Since it looked like the harnessing procedure would take a while yet, and they'd done this sort of thing more than I, I remained in my role as observer. Against the echoing sound of my own breath, I turned my attention to the otherwise silent murkiness around me, the ruined remnants of palace and temple. Everything had a dim green