Alexi didn’t fly me all the way to Cairo, but together we made it to Turkey, where I forced Ollie to wire him another ten thousand dollars for the ride.
“I told you I wasn’t paying for expenses,” she growled on the phone.
“Well, you should have thought of that before you sent me halfway across tarnation and back. I got shot twice for you, Ollie.”
“That’s not my fault. Why didn’t you call and ask me to open a portal for you?” Ollie growled at me. “This is pretty much the definition of getting really stuck.”
“Oh,” I replied, feeling slightly dumb. “I didn’t think about it. Everything happened so fast.”
“Idiot. I’m taking this out of your cut,” she snapped, bitterness deeply entwined in her voice. “Are you close to finding the dagger, at least?”
“So, you’re not going to acknowledge I got shot twice for you, huh?”
“I heard you, but I figured you were okay if you were still able to bust my chops. How are you doing now?” she asked, worry barely registering in her voice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I slept on the plane, and I’m right as rain.”
“Good, then I was right.” She took a moment to clear her throat. “Now, answer my question. Are you close to getting the dagger?”
“You suck,” I replied. “But yeah, I think I’m close.”
“You better be. We’re running out of time. They want that dagger in two days, or the deal is off for both of us.”
“Chill,” I replied. “You’ll get your stupid dagger.”
“I better. I’m not paying you to have a holiday around Europe.”
“Good, because it hasn’t been one.” I hung up the phone before she could say anything to enrage me further. “Jerk.”
After departing Alexi, I hopped on a flight to Cairo. Ollie could only open a portal if she was physically in the same place as you, so I was on my own for getting to Egypt, just like she said when I first agreed to find this stupid knife.
I lived in Los Angeles, so I was accustomed to the heat, but when I got off the plane, it socked me in the gut so hard I could barely breathe for a full minute. I found the first hotel with air conditioning and blasted it as I laid the folder on the bed. I had a chance to study it on the flight with Alexi, but I didn’t want to tip my hand flying commercial, so I kept it hidden the whole way to Egypt.
The sheik the Soviets gave the dagger to was a third cousin to the Saudi royal family, rich enough on oil money to buy and sell the world a dozen times over. The dagger was part of a gift for one of his summer palaces in Egypt, and the endowment additionally included a small fortune in jewels, paintings, and antique furniture that no self-respecting person would actually sit on; the kind of things that only had real value to the rich. The gift also included a cache of other magical items the Soviets deemed harmless and went a long way to securing their rights to a massive oil field along the northern border Saudi Arabia shared with Iraq.
According to a picture in the file, the sheik hung the dagger in his sitting room, surrounded by gold and silver trinkets too numerous to count. It looked out of place in the gold-tinged room, but then he was too rich for anyone to say anything.
It seemed like a simple snatch-and-grab job. Nothing in the file said anything about the sheik having any magic powers, which meant his palace probably wasn’t warded from attacks from people like me. Maybe that was why he seemed so interested in magical objects. Assuming I was right, it would be a simple matter to impersonate a guard and steal the dagger.
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Before I left for the job, I called Leigh, who didn’t pick up the phone after I let it ring five times. Of course, it was the middle of the day in Los Angeles. The answering machine clicked on, and I heard her voice for the first time in days.
“This is Leigh and Sadie,” she said, her voice light and filled with laughter. “We’re not here right now but leave a message, and we’ll call you back.”
The machine beeped, and I cleared my throat. “Hi, it’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t call before, but it’s been crazy. I should be—”
The message clicked, and Leigh picked up. “You’re alive!”
“Yeah,” I replied, ashamed. “I’m alive. I’m sorry. I was in Brussels, and then the Sov— It’s no excuse. I should have called.”
“You’re right. You definitely should have called.” She took a beat, and her voice changed to a more loving tone. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear yours, too.”
“Are you having fun at least traipsing around the world?”
I laughed. “No, of course not. You’re not here. How could I?”
“Ew, that was super corny.” She chuckled, and her voice softened. “I love it.”
I smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Finish whatever you’re doing soon so you can come home, okay?”
“Tonight, I hope. I plan on catching the first flight tomorrow morning out of this— I can’t wait to see you.”
“Me either. When you know your flight, let me know, and I’ll pick you up.”
“I will.” Now it was my turn to take a moment. “I should go. Seriously, I love you.”
“I seriously love you, too. Be safe, okay?”
I had been through the wringer before, but I had never been shot, and it brought into stark contrast what I was willing to do for money. What good was cash if you were dead? I didn’t know what it would take to kill me, but I knew I could be killed, even if I wasn’t sure how. I knew I wanted a long life with Leigh, and I couldn’t do that dead. Before I met her, I didn’t care what happened to me, but now I very much wanted to live, to be with her, and I couldn’t do that if I died on a job for Ollie.
“I can’t promise that, hon.” The words stuck in my throat for a second. “But once this is done, I’ll be the safest woman in the whole world.”
“I definitely don’t believe that.” She laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, love. See you soon.”
The sheik’s palace was located an hour from the city center, and while it was guarded by a thick stone wall and multiple guards, there were none of the magical hexes or wards meant to keep somebody like me out, just as I assumed.
I decided on an old classic ruse to get the DNA I needed to impersonate a guard. I parked on the far side of the palace, across the street from the stone wall. I popped the hood and pulled two of the spark plugs, then hopped back inside the driver’s seat. I had already turned myself into the lovely flight attendant who touched my finger when she gave me a vodka soda earlier; an elegant, classic woman with sharp features and dark, shimmering hair.
I waited for a guard to make their perimeter search around the property and started the show. I turned the engine, but it chugged and chugged, never turning over. Arabic was one of the languages I was most comfortable slipping into, and I loved cursing in Arabic most of all. I made sure the window was open, and I screamed bloody murder out of it until the guard turned in my direction.
“Excuse me?” I shouted at the broad-shouldered guard. “Can you help me?”
He looked at me confused, eyeing the situation up before walking over to me. “What are you doing here?”
Even if you were surrounded by mansions, somebody had to staff them, and the modest car I rented was one any respectable maid would be able to afford, even if their bosses wouldn’t be caught dead in it.
I stepped out of the car. “I’m sorry, but my car—” I tucked my hair behind my ear as I batted my eyes at him, a universal language. “I’m not very good with cars, and it won’t start.”
“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t help you.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled him playfully toward me. Being so forthright wasn’t something Arab men were used to, and it took him back, but the gesture was all I needed to get his DNA.
“Please, my son is home, and if I don’t get there soon, my babysitter will charge me another hour. I can’t—you know how it is, right? Working in luxury but being paid like a pauper. Please, oh please, won’t you look for a moment?”
The man looked back at the house and then sighed. “Very well. Pop the trunk but be quick about it.”
I popped the trunk of the car and watched the man peek inside. I wasn’t sure if he was a car nut, but even an amateur could see I had pulled out two spark plugs before long.
“It doesn’t—wait, what is going on her—”
I didn’t wait for him to stand up and accuse me of lying to him before I slammed the hood down on his head, knocking him unconscious. I chose an area of the mansion with poor eye-lines to give myself privacy. A huge fig tree hid us from anyone spying on the roof, and the camera around the property didn’t swivel far enough to see where I was parked.
I slipped the clothes off the man and slid him into the trunk. I dressed myself in his bulky clothing and then filled myself out to his exact size. I pulled his wallet out of his pants and placed his walkie-talkie in my back pocket. A dead walkie-talkie would be my excuse for returning to the guardhouse, and from there, I would make my way into the main house.
Let’s hope he stayed unconscious until I got back out.