“I intend to make love to you.”

Beth swallowed, but she didn’t back away. Omar wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. When his lips found hers, she responded without hesitation.

It took only seconds for the kiss to flame through his blood.

Omar knew he was making a mistake. Beth Bradshaw was the woman he would have to betray before the month was out. To protect his people and his heritage, he would have to deceive her. She would be labeled a failure, even though her theories were one hundred percent right. And he would be the tool of her destruction.

Yet, he couldn’t resist her.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

We’ve got another month of sinister summer sizzlers lined up for you starting with the one and only Familiar—your favorite crime-solving black cat! Travel with the feisty feline on a magic carpet to the enchanting land of sheiks in Caroline Burnes’s Familiar Mirage, the first part of FEAR FAMILIAR: DESERT MYSTERIES. You can look for the companion book, Familiar Oasis, next month.

Then it’s back to the heart of the U.S.A. for another outstanding CONFIDENTIAL installment. This time, the sexiest undercover operatives around take on Chicago in this bestselling continuity series. Cassie Miles launches the whole shebang with Not on His Watch.

Debra Webb continues her COLBY AGENCY series with one more high-action, heart-pounding romantic suspense story in Physical Evidence. What these Colby agents won’t do to solve a case—they’ll even become prime suspects to take care of business…and fall in love.

Finally, esteemed Harlequin Intrigue author Leona Karr brings you a classic mystery about a woman who washes up on the shore sans memory. Good thing she’s saved by a man determined to find her Lost Identity.

A great lineup to be sure. So make sure you pick up all four titles for the full Harlequin Intrigue reading experience.

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Familiar Mirage
Caroline Burnes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caroline Burnes continues her life as doorman and can opener for her six cats and three dogs. E. A. Poe, the prototype cat for Familiar, rules as king of the ranch, followed by his lieutenants, Miss Vesta, Gumbo, Chester, Maggie the Cat and Ash. The dogs, though a more lowly life form, are tolerated as foot soldiers by the cats. They are Sweetie Pie, Maybelline and Corky.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Familiar—While traveling in Egypt with Eleanor and Peter, Familiar (viewed as a god by the Egyptians) becomes involved with a beautiful U.S. anthropologist.

Beth Bradshaw—Finding the lost City of Con is Beth’s mission, and the act that could cement her career. The vast Egyptian desert is dangerous, but not nearly as dangerous as the guide she hires to lead her expedition.

Omar Dukhan—Desert born and European educated, Omar is a man caught between a rock and a hard place. He must choose between duty and love—before Beth is killed.

Harad Dukhan—Harad has forsaken his heritage, but has he also given up his honor and brother?

Bettina Nazar—He’s the man with the money and the impetus behind Beth’s quest for the lost city. A man who prefers the shadows to the light, he has endless funds and a strong desire to remain faceless and nameless.

John Gilmore—Jealous, petty and a whiner, John makes the trip aggravating for Beth, but he is also an expert at his job. When several other scientists mutiny, John stands by Beth, but is it all a farce?

Mauve Killigan—Not only is Mauve a scientist, she’s Beth’s friend. In the dangerous and competitive race to find the lost city and the treasures it may hold, Mauve stands to lose a lot—including her life.

Amelia Corbet—Beth’s adopted sister lives in New York and works for one of the top public-relations firms in the nation. When Beth calls for help, will be she able to answer?

To Dianna—

A good friend and animal lover.

Many thanks for your friendship.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

The world is a strange and wondrous place! Alexandria, Egypt! Imagine. I stepped off that big jet plane and into a world where humanoids have finally come to their senses—they’re all cat worshipers.

My fellow felines are all around me, lounging in the airport as if they owned the place. Of course, cats are so far advanced in thought and spirit that we understand that “owning” anything is ridiculous. But it is refreshing to see a culture where humans know their place.

Ah, Egypt. Home of the Sphinx, Cleopatra, the Sahara Desert and a million and one magical dreams. Peter, my humanoid and veterinarian, is here to discuss the latest programs for helping felines control their population. It’s going to be a hard sell, but as the populations of humans and animals swell on the planet, we’re all going to have to do our part.

There go Peter and the lovely Eleanor with our bags. I suppose I should follow along like a good kitty. I can sightsee once we’re checked into our hotel.

Now who is that little pixie with the fire in her eyes? My goodness, she’s handing out orders like a drill sergeant. And she has a whole troop to do her bidding. Dig those khaki shorts and those utilitarian hiking boots. All she needs is a pith helmet and she can sally forth into the desert in search of Dr. Livingston. But she is cute as a button.

Normally I go for the taller model humanette, but there’s something about Miss Explorer that just makes me want to watch her. It’s her determination. I can almost smell it. She’s here on a mission, and nothing is going to stand in her way. I think I’ll sidle over, do a little eavesdropping and see what she’s up to.

Hmm. She’s an anthropologist, and she’s brought enough equipment to examine the tombs of the pharaohs. I just love women who dig up bones. That’s sort of my job—digging up bones and clues and anything else that helps solve a mystery.

So she’s looking for a lost civilization. Interesting, and not just to me. There’s a man behind that pillar who’s just as curious about Miss Explorer as I am. In fact, I’d say he’s even more interested.

My, my. This man reminds me of nothing if not a hawk. And Miss Explorer seems to be his chosen meal. He’s watching her as if he’s about to dive down and attack at any moment.

At last she’s got all her stuff together, and all those people who seem to be with her. There must be five people in her party, and from the looks of them, they all work outdoors. They’re moving to the bus to go into town. Good. The man who was watching her is going in the opposite direction. Perhaps he was just a pickpocket.

Nah! I’d be willing to bet my elegant black hide that he’s not a common thief. The way he was watching Miss Explorer sort of made my hide itch.

I guess the only noble thing to do is get on the bus with Miss Explorer and head into town. Peter and Eleanor are staying at the Abbula, the ritziest hotel in town. I can find them there in time for dinner.

You know, I love this place. I can stroll around and no one pays the least bit of attention to me. There are cats everywhere. Some really hot little purr-furs, too. It’s a little-known fact, but Cleopatra was a cat in a former life. That’s when she learned to become such a seductress. She had a definite appreciation for her feline nature, and boy, did Mark Antony learn about it the hard way! I see one long, elegant black puss that might have a bit of the Cleopatra bloodline in her veins. But I have to behave. My heart belongs to the beautiful Clotilde, and I would never betray her trust.

I’m on the bus and settled just beneath the feet of the intrepid female explorer. The other members of her crew are calling her Beth. Now that’s a nice sensible name. I’ll just have to keep tabs on her for a little while to make sure that man from the airport isn’t following her.

Eleanor and Peter will be worried, but I’ll be back with them by dinnertime—and that’s one promise I intend to keep. The last time they took me abroad and I disappeared in Ireland, they said they were never taking me out of the country again. I can’t screw up my second chance at international travel, or they really won’t let me out of Washington.

BETH BRADSHAW felt as if her body was on the verge of rebellion. She was exhausted. It had taken all of her energy to get her band of archaeologists and anthropologists onto the plane in New York and down in Alexandria. It was only when the jet had begun its descent and she’d looked out the window and seen the jewel of the Mediterranean shimmering like a blue opal beneath her that she realized she was actually about to land in Egypt. After months and months of planning, the real adventure was about to begin.

As the bus lumbered through the crowded streets of the city, Beth looked out the window at the passing sights. It was as if she was in a dream. The streets were full of men and women in the flowing robes of the Middle Eastern culture, though there were a few in western garb. Dark eyes gazed back at hers with mixed expressions of interest, curiosity and mild amusement.

And cats were all over the place.

She felt something brush against her feet and leaned down to discover a big black feline purring against her ankles.

She sighed. She wasn’t particularly fond of cats. She was more a dog person. Cats had a streak of arrogance that left her feeling cool toward them. Dogs were always glad for a pat and some attention. Sort of like herself. Yep, she was definitely a dog person, while her best friend and self-appointed sister, Amelia, was the cat person.

“Beth, I thought our guide was going to meet us in the airport.”

She looked up to find John Gilmore standing over her. She was already exhausted and John was an energy drain. No matter what was happening, he always found fault and something to worry about obsessively. “The guide knows the hotel we’re staying at. I’m sure he’ll find us there.”

“But he said he was going to meet us in the airport. It upsets me that he didn’t show. We’re going deep into the desert with this man. We have to be able to trust him. Is he reliable?”

It was a question Beth had asked herself, but as she looked around the bus and saw that all her employees were listening, she knew she had to show absolute faith in the missing Omar Dukhan—even if she wanted to string him up for failing to live up to his word.

“Mr. Dukhan has an impeccable reputation as a guide. I’m sure there’s a reason he didn’t meet us in the airport. Once I talk to him, I’m certain I’ll be satisfied with his explanation.”

“And if you’re not?” John asked.

“Then I’ll find another guide.” She looked around, meeting the eyes of the four other members of her crew. “I won’t risk your lives or mine with someone I can’t rely on.” She forced a smile. “Many of you have worked for me before. I believe you call me Mama Beth behind my back, because I tend to mother my crew.” She lifted an eyebrow and waited for the denials that didn’t come. “Good. You know I’ll take care of everything.” She refocused on John. “I’ll handle it, okay? Please don’t worry anymore about it.”

She watched as he returned to his seat, his face drawn with worry. He fretted over the smallest things, but he was the very best excavator she’d ever worked with. And he was a top-notch anthropologist, too. He would be invaluable in helping to establish the culture of the secret city—when she found it.

For a moment she allowed herself to slip into the dream. She was standing in the middle of a temple with an obelisk that depicted Ra, the sun god worshiped in ancient Egypt for thousands of years.

Beside the obelisk was a limestone statue of an exotic creature—a lovely feminine form with the head of a cat. Con, the mythic goddess, queen of a very secret cult.

Many Egyptologists believed that Con was a legend, as were so many of the gods and goddesses in ancient civilizations. But Beth knew better. Con had been a living, breathing woman, and she’d wielded tremendous power because of her special gift. She was a seer, a woman who had the power to view the future. And Beth believed—and intended to prove—that Con had lived in the Libyan Desert with her female followers, a tribe of women with the legendary skills of the Amazons and the added gift of second sight, a talent they’d used to manipulate the future.

As always, her heart began to race with the idea of finding the village that everyone else said was fiction.

“It’s there,” Beth whispered to herself. “It’s there and I’m going to find it.”

And become world-famous as a researcher and anthropologist, to boot, she added in her thoughts.

“Must be a nice fantasy you’re having,” Mauve Parker said as she plopped into the seat beside Beth, wiping sweat from beneath her bangs. “Doubtless about someplace cool with lots of shady trees. Why is it that ancient civilizations always seemed to thrive in hot, dry climates where there aren’t any trees?”

Beth laughed easily. “Only a girl from Alabama would miss trees. Anyway, my fantasy is right here in Egypt. We’re in the secret village, and there’s a temple where the inhabitants worshiped Ra and Con.”

“Sounds nice, but sort of ordinary,” Mauve teased.

“Everything is perfectly preserved.” Beth said the last with big eyes and emphasis.

“Once we find it and reveal it, that won’t be the case for long,” Mauve said with a touch of bitterness.

“I know. Once we reveal the site, it becomes part of the public domain. It won’t be our private discovery. But we’ll have it all to ourselves for a while.”

“Long enough to do our research and prepare our papers, right?” Mauve asked.

“Right,” Beth said.

“Can I ask a question?” Mauve put a hand on Beth’s knee.

“Sure.”

“You never said where you got the financial backing for this trip. It’s not like you to keep secrets, Beth. Is there a reason you’re not telling?”

There was a very good reason. The man who’d agreed to pick up the tab for the expedition had insisted on absolute privacy. He had made it very clear that he would withdraw all funding if he were ever linked to the project.

“Competition.” Beth finally said as her gaze strayed to John Gilmore.

“Gilmore? He can’t hold a candle to you,” Mauve said. “He’s an excellent detail man and he’s good at interpreting the minutiae, but John can’t see the big picture. He’s always going to be second-in-command. If not to you, then to someone else.”

“He doesn’t see it that way,” Beth said.

“He wouldn’t. We’re just lucky to have him on the diving end of it. Hard to believe someone who counts rubber bands and paper clips like an accountant is so fearless underwater.”

“True.” Beth had learned long ago that conflicting character traits couldn’t always be explained. She’d given up trying.

“What do you think you’ll find in the submerged cities in the Mediterranean?”

“The clues that will lead us to the City of Con.” She spoke so matter-of-factly that her friend was apparently shocked.

“Beth, you’re staking your career on this.”

“I know,” Beth said a lot more calmly than she felt.

“What if we don’t find the city?”

“I can always go back to the States and continue my research in Arizona.”

“But—”

“But everyone will know I failed?” Beth said. She’d rehearsed this answer a million times. “I guess I finally decided that it was better for people to know I’d failed than for me to know I’d never tried.”

Mauve’s eyebrows arched. “You’ve really changed. You used to play it so safe. Now you’re this bold adventurer.”

Beth’s laughter was soft and pleasant. “Hardly. I’m thirty-two, Mauve. We both are. If we’re going to make our mark, we have to do it now. In another ten years, we may not be able to hold up physically to the rigors of this kind of search.”

“So true,” Mauve said.

Beth knew they were both thinking of several of their colleagues who’d had to retire from the field and assume teaching positions. The grueling life of living in tents in heat and freezing temperatures, and the physical labor required eventually took a toll on everyone in the field.

“When do we head out on the water?” Mauve asked eagerly.

“First thing tomorrow. I want to do the underwater exploration in no more than three days and then head into the desert.”

Mauve nodded. “Your will is my command,” she said jokingly, then stood up as the bus stopped in front of an elegant and ancient hotel.

OMAR DUKHAN watched the arrival of the archaeologists from the lobby of the hotel. He knew who he was looking for—he’d seen them in the airport. And he didn’t like what he saw.

Beth Bradshaw certainly wasn’t the woman he thought she’d be. First of all, she was petite, with shiny mahogany hair and brown eyes, and she looked far too delicate to be leading a major dig. At first glance, he’d assumed she was someone’s daughter!

He’d also noted the equipment that had come with the crew. It was state-of-the-art and brand-new. Someone had spent a lot of money on this trip. This was a serious effort, not some college adventure funded by grants.

It all added up to trouble for him.

He watched as Beth organized the unloading of the equipment, and took in the different attitudes of her crew members. He noted immediately the stiff spine of the man. He also saw the friendship in the eyes of the woman with the bangs. She would be Beth’s ally.

Omar made sure that he stayed out of sight as the crew registered and had the bellman load up their bags. It was only when Beth stepped into the center of the lobby and began to slowly scan the vast room that he stepped out from behind the palm tree where he’d remained secluded.

“Miss Bradshaw,” he said, walking forward and extending his hand. “I was delayed earlier. A problem with arranging for the camels.”

“Not a serious problem, I hope,” she said, worry evident in her eyes.

He took her hand and felt the smallest pulse of…something. She was a vital woman—he could feel it in her handshake. She was very much like Leah, a mare he’d chosen for his own. Leah was deceptive, standing patiently outside his tent for hours. But once he was on her back, she was the wind. She had a spirit she felt no need to demonstrate—until it was needed.

“No, not a serious problem. Everything has been taken care of.” He held her hand a fraction of a moment longer than necessary. She withdrew her own hand slowly, her gaze locked with his.

“Mr. Dukhan,” she said, a slight flush touching her fair skin. “I was a little worried.”

“I apologize,” he said, picking up her hand again and bringing it to his lips. He lowered his head in respect as he kissed the back of her hand lightly in the European style.

When he looked up, he saw that his gesture had done little to reassure Beth Bradshaw. The flush had deepened and her eyes were huge.

“It’s okay,” she said, again pulling her hand out of his grasp. “Everything is fine now?”

“Absolutely. Your expedition will go off without a hitch. Are you still planning on following the original path?” He saw that she was instantly more comfortable once she was talking about her work.

“Tomorrow morning we’re diving into the ruined cities that were recently discovered off the coast.”

“Ah, the scientists believe that an earthquake may have sent the cities tumbling into the sea,” he said, watching the surprise cross her face at his knowledge.

“Yes. I guess it was a big story in all the newspapers.”

“Egypt is a land where the past is often of more interest than the present. Or the future,” he said, unable to keep a hint of harshness out of his voice. “Most of my countrymen pay attention to archaeological finds. They will bring more tourists into our country. The economy will grow.”

“I see,” Beth said.

“Do you?” he asked, stepping closer to her. Did she have any idea what would really happen to his land, his people, if she should make a major archaeological find? He doubted it, and he also doubted that she would care.

“Tomorrow we’ll make the dives,” Beth said, faltering only slightly. “Once we conclude that, we’ll begin the overland trek. From the clues I’ve discovered, I think we’ll be heading somewhere close to the oasis, as I said in my correspondence to you.”

“Fine,” Omar said. “Then I will meet you here tomorrow evening.”

“Thank you,” Beth said.

Omar turned quickly, his desert robe flowing around his legs, and walked into the night. He had gone several blocks before he realized he wasn’t certain of his destination. More than anything he wanted to get back to the desert, back to his people, his way of life. He hated the city. And he hated the chaos that Beth Bradshaw and her colleagues were so determined to bring to his people.

She would never find the City of Con. For centuries he and his tribe had protected the secret. It was their heritage, their place to worship and to revere their ancestors. The secrets of Con were theirs to protect against the prying fingers of the world. Omar accepted what it meant to be the leader of his people. He would protect them no matter the cost. Beth Bradshaw was a woman who ignited his blood, but she was also a woman who would have to fail.

Chapter Two

Beth followed the bellhop to her room, her face still suffused with heat. The encounter with Omar Dukhan was not what she’d anticipated. She’d expected a rugged man, a man of the desert. Omar was so much more than that. In his dark eyes she’d seen the fiery heat of the desert and the swirl of a storm.

She’d also seen something darker, something that made her heart race and her palms sweat.

She tipped the bellhop and closed her door, then leaned against it. Her attraction to the guide was unexpected, but she’d always been able to control herself. There had been other attractive men in her life, and she’d never found herself leaning against a door, knees like putty.

She walked to the bed and began to unpack a bag. She was behaving like a fool. So she felt desire for Omar Dukhan. Big deal. He was a handsome man. That wasn’t what was really bothering her.

She thought back to the conversation. Although he was a hired hand, he had treated her as if he was in charge. That bothered her.

There was something else, though. She thought about it as she laid out her sleeveless blouses and shorts. There had been an edge of danger about the man. For everything that he said, there were a million things unsaid. She realized, smiling at her imagination, that she could easily view him as a spy.

“Bond. James Bond,” she said out loud, mocking herself.

Her ability to laugh at herself helped ease the disquiet she felt. She went to the telephone and sat, knowing that patience would be required to get a call through to the United States.

She’d left Arizona without a word to Amelia Corbet or Amelia’s parents, Luther and Susan. The Corbets had been Beth’s family for the past fifteen years, and she wanted to make sure they knew where she was and that she was safe. She hadn’t called them because she was afraid that, in their attempt to protect her, they might fuel her own self-doubt in her ability to bring off this expedition. The Corbets had supported her in every aspect of her work, but they also felt a duty to shelter her from danger and disappointment. Now, though, Beth was too deeply engaged in the trip to pull back. It was time to let them know where she was.

As she dialed Amelia’s number in New York, she felt once again the thrill of her undertaking. She was actually on an adventure. She was doing something that Amelia would do.

To her disappointment, when the call finally went through, she got Amelia’s answering machine. According to the message, Beth’s best friend and “sister” was out of town for a few days to meet with a client in Tokyo.

Amelia worked for a high-powered public-relations firm, and her work took her all over the globe and into the most interesting situations.

Beth hung up without leaving a message. She wanted to tell Amelia about her expedition, not her machine. She wanted the satisfaction of hearing Amelia’s gasp of surprise when she told her she was in Alexandria, Egypt, on a trip that could gain her the kind of recognition in her field that many only dreamed about.

Glancing at her watch, she stood up. She was due to meet her team in the dining room. She’d organized an early dinner, a bit of walking around, then an early bedtime. Tomorrow would be a long, grueling day, even for those who were not diving. For herself, John and four others, it was going to be an exhausting day.

She went downstairs and entered the hotel restaurant. At the happy looks on the faces of her co-workers, she felt her shoulders relax. Everything was going to be fine. They were all going to receive the recognition for which they had worked so hard.

SO, MISS EXPLORER enters the dining room. I can’t hang around for long. I have a very important date with something fresh and delicious from the Mediterranean and Peter and Eleanor. Besides, everything looks fine here.

The guy at the airport was obviously her guide. He didn’t make his presence known because he wanted to check out her party before he decided to take them into the desert. I can see his point—I wouldn’t want to be stranded in the sand with a herd of whiners. On the other hand, I don’t really think that lurking behind a pillar and spying on someone is the way to behave, either.

There’s something about this Omar Dukhan that makes me want to keep him under close surveillance. But this isn’t my case. I’m not here to work. I’m on vacation. Even I need a break from the pressures of solving mysteries every now and again.

Beth Bradshaw has everything under control. I think I can safely head for the Abbula Hotel and my reserved room. I’ll just make a quick sweep of the hotel rooms here while all the scientists are in the dining room. One last quick check before I trundle out into the night.

Mauve’s room seems fine. A little trip down the hall, and the other three rooms are good. Silent as tombs, no pun intended.

Now back to John’s room, right beside Beth’s. I’ll creep in for just a moment. I’m a little curious about him, too. If he’s such a worrywart, why’d he come on this trip?

Wait. What’s that? Someone is in his room. Listen. What’s that noise? It sounds like a gas valve or air or—someone is letting the air out of his diving tank.

I’ll put an end to this. Wham! My body slamming into the door has frightened him. He’s running across the room and out the window into the night. He’s fast, whoever he is. Before I can even get to the window, he’s cleared the wall around the hotel garden and disappeared.

Now why would someone break into a room to let the air out of a diving tank?

Maybe Miss Explorer could use a few more hours of watching. I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m getting a really bad feeling. Cats have always had psychic abilities. That, too, is a little-known fact. We’re very attuned to use of the sixth sense. In all the best ways, of course. And my intuition is telling me to stay close to Miss Explorer tonight.

Criminy. I guess I’ll have to rush over to the Abbula Hotel, eat a bite with Peter and Eleanor, and then get back over here to make sure no one bothers Beth.

OMAR FOUND HIMSELF standing in front of the high-rise building that contained his brother’s development firm. Dukhan Enterprises was one of Egypt’s most prestigious firms. Known for innovative architecture and global outlook, the company was a big part of the changing face of Egypt.

Omar thought of his brother, and his mouth tightened. Harad Dukhan insisted he was leading Egypt forward into the future. A brighter future. Omar wasn’t so sure.

He looked up at the high rise. It was a beautiful building, all white limestone and glass. In any other city it would have been a marvel.

In Alexandria, it was an eyesore.

He squared his shoulders and went to the main door, where an armed security guard looked at him with a wary eye.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Omar knew that his desert robes had aroused the guard’s suspicions. Many of the nomadic desert people in Egypt were opposed to what they considered westernization. Like Omar, some viewed Harad Dukhan as a man who’d climbed into bed with the capitalists. Unlike Omar, these people didn’t love Harad Dukhan. Some of them wanted to kill him.

“Is Harad still at work? I’m his brother.”

The guard spoke into a telephone, and in a moment pushed buttons to open the door electronically. “Tenth floor,” he said.

Omar nodded. It had been at least five years since he’d stepped foot on his brother’s property. Five years since he’d seen his brother. He rode the elevator up and stepped into an elaborate office. Against the wall, backlit by the beauty of the city, his brother sat at a desk. Very slowly he leaned forward.

“Omar,” Harad said with some surprise. “You haven’t been to Alexandria in over five years. What’s wrong?”

“I need a favor,” Omar said. He gave no indication how glad he was to see his brother or how much it cost him to ask for help. They had parted bitterly, with harsh words on both sides. To his relief, he saw that Harad was not going to mention the argument that had caused such a rift between them.

“What can I do?” Harad asked.

“There’s an expedition set up to search for the City of Con.” He saw his brother flinch. So Harad still, at least, had some affection for his desert roots, for the things his nomadic people held close. For the place where their mother had been buried.

“There have been other expeditions. None of them have succeeded,” Harad said carefully.

“This woman, Beth Bradshaw, she’s different.”

Instead of questioning Omar, Harad simply nodded. “What can I do to help my brother?”

“Find out who’s backing her. If we can get the money withdrawn, she’ll have no choice but to go home.” Omar held on to his composure, but it was hard. Like old times, Harad was there for him.

“I can try to find that information.” Harad got to his feet slowly. “Will you have dinner with me?”

Omar almost said no, then he hesitated. “We’re as different as the lion and the camel. Can we share a meal without one getting eaten by the other?”

Harad’s smile was amused but sad. “Perhaps for one meal the lion can put aside his claws and teeth. I’ve missed you, brother.” He stepped forward and took his brother’s elbow. “You’ve lost weight, gotten hard, like the desert people.”

“Like our people, Harad.” Omar looked around the elegantly appointed office. “This is not where you belong. We’re free people. Nomads of the desert.”

Harad only squeezed Omar’s arm more tightly. “You’ve made your choice, brother. I don’t intend to try and talk you into putting your university education to use. Please, don’t try to talk me out of my chosen life.”

Omar nodded. “For tonight,” he said.

Harad smiled. “Shall we go someplace quiet where we can talk, or noisy where we can laugh?”

Omar’s lean face broke into a grin. “Noisy. With good food and beautiful women.” There was one woman he definitely wanted out of his mind, and the distractions of some of his brother’s beautiful friends would be the perfect way to erase Beth Bradshaw.

“Done,” Harad said, and picked up his neatly folded suit jacket. “I’m glad to see you, Omar. Very glad.”

They walked out of the building together and headed toward the waterfront, where the restaurants were busy and the sound of laughter rang out over the water.

BETH SAT UP in bed, her heart pounding. It took several seconds for her to realize that her terror came from a nightmare, not from any real threat. In the time it took her to calm her fears, she recognized the hotel room, felt again the thrill of actually being in Egypt.

Taking deep breaths, she got out of bed and walked to the French doors that opened to the balcony. They were slightly open, allowing the breeze to flutter the sheer curtains. She was on the second floor of the old hotel, and her room looked out over a beautiful garden.

Slipping a robe over her short cotton nightshirt, she walked out onto the balcony and into a night that smelled of saltwater and unfamiliar spices. She’d asked the concierge in the hotel about the scent, and he’d told her it was tumeric and cumin, spices that had once been like gold in the East-West trade market.

She went to the railing and placed her hands on it, allowing her eyes to close and her body to fill with the scents and sounds around her. Alexandria. Jewel of the Mediterranean. The city had been a cultural and trading center of the Greek and Roman empires. Cleopatra had reigned from here, and had loved both Julius Caesar and Mark Antony.

She walked to the end of the balcony and almost screamed when a black shadow darted out of a chair. “Cat,” she said, a hand at her throat. “You frightened the life out of me.” A big black cat, he looked exactly like the one that had been on the bus with her. But there were a million cats in Egypt, and a lot of them were black. Surely it wasn’t the same one.

“Meow.”

The cat didn’t seem in an apologetic mood, but then, cats never apologized.

“You could at least pretend,” she said, taking the seat the cat had vacated.

To her surprise, the cat flopped over on his back at her feet, a low, pleading meow escaping his throat.

“Well, okay, you’re forgiven,” she said, feeling only a little foolish for talking to the cat.

As if he understood, the cat jumped onto her lap with a quickness and agility that was truly amazing. She stroked his head and was rewarded with a purr.

“I guess cats aren’t so bad,” she said, tickling him under the chin. “But don’t you belong to someone?”

He continued to purr, settling on her lap as she stroked him. Beyond the wall of the garden were the sounds of a large city.

Beth settled back into the chair. Having the cat on her lap gave her a sense of contentment. She was completely in darkness while around her the city pulsed with life. This was the role she knew so well, the one she’d played most of her life, that of observer. In her work she examined the artifacts of the past and from them wove the pattern of daily life. She knew the routine of the Indian women of the Southwest, the day-today struggle to feed a family and maintain life in an arid climate.

By examining those ancient remains, she could reconstruct a world that no longer existed. And it was a world often richer and more real than her own world. In the shards of pottery, she found evidence of wedding feasts and the celebration of everyday life. The long-dead people she studied were filled with emotion and the visible bonds of family. So far, other than the Corbets, she hadn’t found any of those emotional links.

She knew she should go back to bed, but the remnants of the bad dream kept her from attempting to go back to sleep.

She heard the outer gate of the garden creak open, and she leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the person coming in so late at night. A lone man walked into the garden with purpose and caught her attention even when she didn’t intend to stare. Halfway across the garden, he stopped.

He wore the flowing robes of the desert, and even in the semidarkness she could see that he stood tall and proud. Something about him was vaguely familiar, and she felt a strange increase in her pulse.

She couldn’t see his features, but she was certain she’d seen him before.

The guide! It was Omar Dukhan. He was standing in the garden looking up at her room.

Beth eased back into the chair so that she would be completely hidden from his view. The cat slipped from her lap and walked to the balcony railing. He stood with his tail twitching slightly, as if he, too, knew the identity of the man in the garden.

Beth watched in fascination as Omar continued toward the hotel, disappearing beneath her balcony as he approached the entrance. He was obviously staying in the hotel, too.

She started to call the cat to her when she heard a noise on the balcony next to her. The sound came from John Gilmore’s room, and she leaned out over the balcony to see what was going on.

John stood at the railing, watching as Omar entered the hotel. He remained a moment longer and then went back inside his room.

The cat ran into her room and began scratching at the door to the hall. She moved to the door and listened carefully before opening it a crack. John stepped from his room into the hallway, turned his head in both directions and then hurried toward the stairs that led to the first floor.

Even though she wore her nightgown and robe, Beth slipped into the hallway and began to follow John. The cat was at her side and gave her a sense of security that she knew was silly. He was only a cat, but his presence did help.

The hotel hallway was empty, filled with the silence of early morning. She started down the stairs and felt something tug at her gown. Surprised, she turned around to find the cat hooking his right paw into the lace of her nightshirt and holding firm.

As soon as she stopped, he darted in front of her and took the lead, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and peeking around the corner. He was acting as if he knew what they were doing—spying on John Gilmore and the intense Omar Dukhan.

The cat gave a low growl, which Beth took to mean that she should be very quiet. She eased up beside him and immediately saw the two men in conversation in the empty lobby.

The look on Omar’s face was inscrutable. He listened as John talked with great passion. Beth was too far away from the men to hear what they were saying. She glanced around the room, searching for a place that would conceal her while still allowing her to eavesdrop. There was nothing except a sofa near the men. She’d have to cross fifty feet of open floor to get to it. Impossible.

The cat patted her knee once with his paw and then darted across the room. He made a beeline for the sofa and slipped beneath it without either man noticing him.

Great! The cat could hear the conversation, but since he didn’t talk, he couldn’t relay what had been said. Beth fumed as she hid at the foot of the stairs. She didn’t like the idea of John Gilmore and Omar Dukhan meeting in secret.

Well, not exactly in secret, but pretty darn close. It was three in the morning. John had obviously been waiting on the balcony for Omar to return. Their meeting appeared to have had been prearranged. And that didn’t sit well with Beth.

Watching the two men, she saw that whatever Omar Dukhan might be feeling, he didn’t show a thing. He only listened and gave the occasional monosyllabic reply.

John, on the other hand, was red-faced, his hands gesticulating wildly. John’s temper was one of his most serious drawbacks as a leader. When a crew member messed up, that was the time he or she needed the most support. John’s response was always biting anger and cruel remarks, which destroyed a crew’s desire to work.

It seemed that John was angry with Omar, but about what? Beth felt her skin tingle and dance. The idea that there was some sort of pact between the two was unnerving. She didn’t trust either of them. That was what it boiled down to. A total lack of trust.

John abruptly turned away from Omar and started toward the stairs. Beth, caught unprepared, scampered back up the stairs and barely made it into her room before she heard John’s step in the second-floor hallway. But she was panting more with emotion than exertion as she sat down on her bed.

John walked past her room, entered his own and closed the door. Beth heard a faint scratching at her door and opened it. The black cat stood there, tail twitching. He brushed past her and leaped onto the bed, settling in among the pillows.

“Meow,” he said softly, curling around again in an invitation for her to come to bed.

“Okay,” she said. There was nothing else she could do. As much as she wanted to charge into John’s room and demand to know what he was up to, she knew he wouldn’t tell her. The only thing to do was bide her time and figure it out later. But figure it out she would. Until then, she’d double-check every arrangement Omar Dukhan made on her behalf.

And search for another guide.

I ONLY CAUGHT the tail end of the conversation between Desert Hawk and John Gilmore, but it wasn’t a happy exchange. Obviously John had accused Hawk of something, Hawk had denied it, and then hot words had flown. All from the mouth of John. Hawkman hardly said a word.

I’m wondering if John was huffy about Omar’s failing to meet them in the airport, or if he’s already discovered that his air tank has been tampered with. Or maybe there’s something else going on. How did John know that Omar would be coming in through the garden gate? Did they have a rendezvous time arranged?

There are many questions to be answered, but right now this kitty needs some shut-eye. Dinner at the Abbula was a little too rich. Eleanor ordered for me, and then allowed me to sample all the goodies they had left over. Women! They know that the way to a cat’s heart is through his stomach. But mine is a little bloated. Ah, I remember the good old days when I could eat five platefuls of food and never have a moment of regret.

This aging business is getting to be a little annoying. If I’m going to keep my svelte feline figure, I’m going to have to cut down on the rich food or beef up the old exercise regime.

For now, though, I’m in bed with a very sexy little anthropologist. I’ll bet she would be excellent at some under-the-sheet explorations. Ah, some man is going to be very, very lucky when she finally settles on him.

Until tomorrow!

Chapter Three

Beth sat at the breakfast table, a fresh crusty roll and a cup of coffee in front of her, when she saw Omar walk into the room.

His gaze sought hers instantly and he came toward her.

“Shall I accompany you on this part of your exploration?” he asked.

Beth hadn’t anticipated that the desert guide would be interested in diving.

“You’re welcome to come if you want,” she said, studying him for any reaction. “It isn’t necessary, you know.”

His dark eyes held hers. “The sunken cities are relatively unexplored. I’ve read about them, and I’d like to see them.”

“Do you dive?” Beth was surprised and couldn’t hide it.

Omar’s smile was cool and amused. “Is it so hard to believe that a man of the desert might be accomplished in scuba diving?”

“Well, yes,” Beth said. “There isn’t a whole lot of opportunity to dive in the desert. I didn’t mean it as a slight. I wouldn’t expect someone who grew up in New York City to know how to water-ski, either.”

“Point taken,” he said, the hardness of his face relaxing a little.

The waiter came and set a cup of coffee in front of Omar.

“Do you mind?” Omar asked.

“Please, join me,” Beth said. She hadn’t expected to see Omar so early, and she certainly hadn’t expected to have breakfast with him. “How are the plans for the overland trip going? Did you secure more camels?”

“Everything is in order,” he assured her. “Please, don’t worry. I’ve led many Americans into the desert and brought all of them back safely.”

“Have you ever been on an archaeological exploration before?” Beth asked.

Omar hesitated, his dark eyes steady as he stared at her. “Yes.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“No.” He sipped his coffee, finally breaking eye contact.

“Why not?”

He hesitated. “Perhaps you can’t understand this, but I’ll tell you, anyway. When foreigners come into my land to examine and explore, it’s like locusts coming to rob my people of their heritage. Foreign scientists discover valuable artifacts, and they steal them for foreign museums or worse, private collections. Egypt is robbed of her past.”

“I’m not interested in taking anything out of Egypt,” Beth said quickly. “Everything will remain here.”

“Perhaps you mean that when you say it, but you have no control over the people who will follow you. You cannot guarantee there won’t be political deals made by the leaders of my country and others. Many men believe that trading the past for the future is acceptable. I don’t happen to share that belief.”

Beth’s hand clenched around her butter knife. “Omar, if we can find the City of Con, it would bring a lot of worldwide attention to Egypt. Con, I believe, was a flesh-and-blood woman and a seer who ruled with as much power as any of the pharaohs. It would change history.”

His dark eyes were bright with emotion. “Perhaps Egypt doesn’t want the world’s attention. Perhaps we wish to keep our history to ourselves. I’m not so certain that it’s our responsibility to change the world’s view.”

Beth started to argue, but she bit back her words. Omar wasn’t going to be convinced by anything she said, and in some ways she understood him. “I can only tell you that I intend to explore the city with the greatest respect. I’ll work in full cooperation with your government and do everything I can to make sure all sites are protected for your people.”

For a brief moment his eyes softened. “I’m sure you will try, Beth Bradshaw.”

“Your government has given me permission—”

“It isn’t the government that you should be worried about,” Omar interrupted. He finished his coffee and abruptly stood up. “I’ll meet you on the boat.”

“It’s the—”

“Memphis,” he finished for her. “I know.”

“How did you…” She didn’t finish the question. She knew how he knew. John Gilmore had told him. “Omar,” she called to him as he started through the restaurant.

He stopped and turned around, but didn’t approach the table.

She stood up and went to him. “What were you and John talking about last night in the lobby?”

She saw surprise flicker across his face.

“Your co-worker felt it necessary to explain to me that I should have been at the airport, that I was remiss in my duties and insubordinate to my employer. He also made an allegation against me. One that I refuted.”

Beth felt little sparks of heat run up her neck and into her cheeks. “It isn’t John’s place to do that.”

“I listened to him.”

“John has nothing to do with any of the arrangements. He’s a paid hand on this expedition. What did he accuse you of?”

“I’ll keep in mind that you are the leader of this trip,” Omar said. “The other is insignificant.” He left the restaurant with a long, purposeful stride, brushing past Mauve as she came in.

Mauve arched her eyebrows at Beth and hurried to the table where the empty coffee cup told the story of breakfast. “My, oh, my, you do work fast,” Mauve said wickedly. “Was it breakfast after aerobics or just a little preliminary feast before doing some mattress maneuvers?”

Beth couldn’t help but laugh, even though Mauve’s teasing accusations made her slightly uncomfortable. It was hard to be around Omar for any length of time without feeling desire. He was a very sexy man. But desire had no place on this expedition.

“Omar’s going on the dive with us,” Beth said. “He knows how to dive and he’s interested in the sunken cities.”

“Terrific,” Mauve said. “I’m very interested in seeing what he’s hiding under those flowing robes.”

Beth laughed despite herself. “You are a wicked girl,” she said to her friend.

“Wicked but honest. You’re curious, too, aren’t you? Unless you’ve already had a little preview,” Mauve teased.

“Get your mind out of the bedroom and onto your work,” Beth said, finishing her roll and rising from the table. “I’ll meet everyone at the boat. I want to make sure all the equipment is loaded.”

WELL, I’VE LEARNED two valuable lessons today. The hard rolls served for breakfast may satisfy the humanoids, but not me. I want sausage or bacon or an omelet with shrimp and Parmesan cheese. Hard roll—yuck. Not even butter can make it palatable.

Probably of more importance is the second thing I’ve learned by hiding under Miss Explorer’s table. Omar Dukhan hedged the truth. He and John Gilmore were not talking about the airport incident. John was actually accusing our fearless guide of tampering with the air tanks. Now that’s interesting. Why would Gilmore jump to the conclusion that Omar had gone into his room and done that?

Diving tank. Boat. Water. I’d rather face lions and tigers and bears. I’d rather face the Wicked Witch of the West and all her flying monkeys. I’d even rather face the Munchkins, though I don’t want to hear them sing, than get on another boat. But I’ll be on the Memphis or my name isn’t Familiar.

I don’t trust Omar the desert guide, and I don’t like John Gilmore. I think Miss Explorer has put herself behind the eight ball in this entire adventure. It’s up to me to see that nothing bad happens to her.

OMAR HEFTED his diving tanks onto the deck of the Memphis and then began to go over the other gear that was already loaded. The expedition was professional and expensive. He could only wonder again where Beth Bradshaw had gotten the funding.

He had to hand it to her; she was not only smart, she was prepared.

She was right on target, going to Herakleion, one of the sunken cities, to look for specific directions to the City of Con. It was in the coastal city that Con had performed many of her most impressive feats. She had predicted the coming of the Romans and the romance between Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Con had warned of the dangers of the liaison, but her warnings had gone unheeded. Queen Cleopatra, the last of the Ptolemies, had died by her own hand, a snake clutched to her bosom. Alexandria, jewel of the Mediterranean, and Egypt, the center of culture for the past century, were forever changed.

And Con and her followers had taken to the desert, hunted like dogs.

But Con and her followers had not been destroyed. They had built a village where the world leaders often sent emissaries to have dreams foretold and to buy a glimpse of the future.

Taking her gift of seeing the future, Con had gone into exile, but she was still very much a presence. So much so that legends began to spring up about her. Her name was whispered in all the halls of power. Assassins were sent to destroy her.

None succeeded.

Omar knew all this. He knew it was not just legend, but truth. He knew because he was descended from the lineage of Con. And he was the protector of her palace.

“Dukhan!”

Omar was pulled out of his reverie by the shout from the dock. He stood up and saw Beth Bradshaw and her party as they approached the boat. The man who’d hailed him was in the lead, John Gilmore.

“What are you doing here?” John asked him angrily.

Omar didn’t bother to answer. He knew his lack of courtesy would infuriate the scientist, and he was right.

“Are you deaf, as well as stubborn?” John asked.

“John!” Beth’s voice was sharp. “What do you think you’re doing? Mr. Dukhan is my guest on this trip.”

“Guest? He’s hired help. And he went into my room last night and—”

“Choose your words carefully,” Omar said in a deadly voice. “In my country, a man’s honor is worth dying for.”

John stared at Omar with open dislike.

“What’s this about?” Beth demanded.

“Nothing,” John said, looking away.

“John, Omar is a hired hand, but so are you,” Beth said pointedly. “Now put aside whatever it is that’s eating you or go back to the hotel. I don’t have time for temper fits and rudeness.”

She glanced once at Omar, and he saw the embarrassment in her eyes. She was ashamed of her countryman, and Omar felt a twinge of guilt for deliberately provoking the scientist. John Gilmore was such an easy mark, though.

John brushed past him, and Omar assisted the other members of Beth’s party aboard. The site of the sunken city was fifteen miles off the coast, still in the Bay of Aboukir. Omar knew the craft Beth had rented would get them there in good time, and he looked out at the water, a beautiful aqua that promised adventure and a cool break from the heat that was already building.

As the boat left the dock, Omar kept his distance, aware of the surreptitious glances that the members of the crew cast his way. One of the women, a vibrant redhead, winked at him, and he flashed her a smile. But his gaze kept drifting back to Beth.

She wore a blue, one-piece swimsuit, which though conservative, showed off her figure. Her waist was tiny, and her hips swelled beneath it. Though she was short, her legs were tapered and beautifully proportioned. She was a lovely woman, with her dark hair sparkling in the sun.

He was watching her when he noticed the black cat sit down at her feet. There were thousands of black cats in Alexandria, but this one was…unique. He felt the cat’s golden gaze on him, and he examined the feline. To his amusement the cat stood up and walked right to him. It jumped up on the seat beside him and with a deliberate action, hooked both front claws into the flesh of his thigh.

“Hey!” He was more startled than injured.

Everyone around stopped what they were doing and stared at him as he gently tried to disengage the cat. Unfortunately the animal only hooked his claws in farther and gave a low, warning growl.

Beth saw what was happening and hurried over. She carefully picked up the cat, unhooking the claws. The black devil began to purr in her arms and licked her chin.

“My goodness,” Beth said, cradling the cat. “Are you okay?” she asked Omar.

“Fine,” he said, rubbing his leg. He eyed the cat. “Is he yours?”

“He’s been following me.” Beth laughed when she realized how sinister that sounded. “Really, he has.”

Omar found that he was smiling in amusement at her. There were many things about Beth Bradshaw that surprised and delighted him. She was supposed to be a cool, calm scientist, and here she was claiming that a stray cat was following her. “Since when?” he asked.

“Since the airport, and you can drop the condescension. It’s the same cat, and he’s been stuck to me like glue ever since I got into this country.”

Omar studied the animal more closely. There had been a black cat in the airport, one that had given him the once-over. And there had been a black cat in the lobby of the hotel the evening before, hiding under some furniture. As he thought about it, the cat had seemed incredibly interested in the conversation he was having with John Gilmore.

“In my country,” he said, “cats are worshiped. They roam wherever they like, but they hardly ever stalk tourists.” He couldn’t suppress the smile that teased the corners of his mouth.

“In my country, some people believe that black cats are the familiars—” She didn’t get a chance to finish.

“Me-ow!” The cat leaped from her arms and landed on the seat beside Omar, who instinctively put his hands on his thighs to protect them from the cat’s sharp claws.

“Me-ow!”

“Familiar?” Omar said carefully, though he could hardly believe the cat was trying to tell his name.

“Me-ow!” The cat nuzzled his leg, rubbing his head against the white robe with great relish.

Omar looked up at Beth. “I think that’s his name.”

“But that would be an American—”

“Me-ow!” Familiar lifted a paw and held it up. Tentatively Beth met his paw with her own hand. “Me-ow!” the cat proclaimed, swatting her palm with his claws sheathed.

“Incredible. He just gave me a high-five,” Beth said.

“Incredible indeed,” Omar said. He watched the cat intently. There was something odd about this one. He’d known and loved cats all his life, but he’d never seen a cat who could so clearly communicate with humans.

John Gilmore sauntered up to Beth and Omar. “So the two of you are adopting a stray cat,” he said with one corner of his mouth twisted. “How cute. I’m just wondering if we’re here for an archaeological expedition or as emissaries of the Humane Society.”

Omar’s fist clenched, though he made sure that no other part of his body registered his anger. Beside him, Beth, too, tensed.

“If you’re so overly worried about our expedition, why aren’t you suited up for the dive?” Beth asked with a measure of calm that Omar could only admire. She was a woman who’d learned to govern her emotions and to sharpen her tongue for use as a weapon. What she lacked in physical size, she made up for in spirit and intelligence.

“I could ask you the same,” John countered. “Him, too.”

“You could, but you aren’t in charge of this expedition. I am,” Beth said evenly. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about any of the decisions that need to be made. That’s my job.” Her tone suddenly hardened. “Now suit up and prepare to dive.”

Omar watched as John’s face suffused with blood. Beth had angered him deliberately. He felt a tiny smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Sometimes words were far more effective than fists.

John abruptly wheeled around and went to put on his diving gear. Mauve sauntered up to Beth. “That wasn’t particularly smart. You’re going down in the sea with him.”

“John is annoying, but once we get to work, he’s a professional,” Beth said.

“I hope you’re right,” Mauve said. “I’d feel better if I were going down there with you.”

Beth shook her head. “I need you on top here. You can run the equipment better than anyone.”

“I’ll be there with you,” Omar said, and both women turned to him. “As your guide, I’ll be at your back at all times.”

He saw the slight tremor pass through Beth, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the reaction was to the hint of a threat his words induced, or the image of him standing behind her, protecting her from anyone who dared threaten. He wasn’t sure exactly which he preferred.

Chapter Four

“Now, we all know what we’re looking for?” Beth asked as she stood on the deck of the boat with the four members of the crew who were diving with her. Omar stood slightly behind her, but she was more than aware of his presence. She shot a glance at Mauve, who was staring blatantly at Omar’s sculpted chest and stomach, the lean and sinewy legs that emerged from the bottom of his conservative swim trunks. She’d always disliked the small briefs-style suits some men favored, much preferring the boxer-shorts style.

And in Omar’s case, she was more than a little interested in the man who wore them.

At the sound of Mauve clearing her throat, loudly, Beth brought her attention back to the group who stood in the hot Egyptian sun waiting for her to continue. Mauve’s wicked grin almost made her choke. She flushed but got a grip on her thoughts.

“If my hypothesis is correct, we should find a temple built to Con in Herakleion. In the temple there should be hieroglyphics that will reveal the exact location of the lost city.

“If it exists,” John said.

Anger made Beth whirl to look at him, but before she spoke she’d already governed her temper. “John, we all know that we’re here to explore my personal hypothesis. You knew that when you signed on. Creating doubt in the project isn’t helpful, and if it continues, I will send you back to the States.”

“A professional always doubts.” He lifted his chin and glanced at the other members of the dive team.

Beth noticed that only two of them met John’s glance—Ray and Judy—the two who doubted her the most. John was always a pain in the butt, but he was sometimes helpful. She made a note to question Ray and Judy closely after they made the dive. Their doubt could prevent them from seeing a clue.

“Doubt can be effective, but not nearly as much as belief,” Beth countered. “I believe in the lost City of Con. I believe in the woman who became a goddess. And I believe she had the ability of second sight. Those of you who don’t believe the same, just keep an open mind and we’ll gather our facts and let the evidence prove or disprove my theory.”

She nodded and began to adjust her diving mask and regulate her oxygen. She felt a tug on her tanks and turned to see that Omar was checking her harness.

“Thanks,” she said.

He nodded. “I will be at your back,” he said softly. “I hope there’s no need for me to be there, but I will be watching you.” He took the heavy light from her. Each pair would share one light. “I’ll carry this.”

“I’ve worked with John on two other expeditions. He’s always like this, but he is excellent at reconstructing sites.”

Omar nodded, then adjusted his own mask. Through the plastic shield, his dark eyes searched hers. Beth turned away and felt his gaze scan down her body, sending tiny little prickles of awareness all through her.

She went to the side of the boat and dropped backward into the water.

Almost immediately she felt a concussion in the water beside her and a swirl of bubbles as Omar dropped in beside her. The site of the sunken city had already been marked by other scientists, and they followed the markers down through the depths.

Beth’s first glimpse of Herakleion made her stop her progress and simply stare. In all her excursions to date, she’d always worked to bring a buried site from the soil, carefully brushing layer after layer of soil away from the ruins. In this instance, the city rested on the white-sand floor of the sea. Some silt had built up, but most of the city was visible, rising from the floor of the sea like Atlantis.

Entire buildings were still intact. Beth’s crew stopped behind her, all of them staring at what had once been a thriving seaport.

Beth motioned her crew forward and they swam into the city, the three pairs each covering a different quadrant as they searched for an edifice that might be a temple to the goddess Con.

True to his word, Omar stayed just behind her. She found his presence both a comfort and a distraction as she swam through the watery streets.

The scientists who’d done the initial work on the city had determined that an earthquake on the coast of Egypt had sent Herakleion and Menouthis into the sea. She saw that several ornate buildings, which had once been supported by columns, had collapsed. All the columns had fallen in the same direction, indicating that it was indeed an earthquake.

Omar touched her shoulder, pointing to the columns, and she was again struck by his knowledge of her profession. She swam on, wondering about the mysterious Omar Dukhan. Why was he working as her guide?

There was far more to the man than he’d presented when he’d applied to lead her expedition. Far more.

She found that she was troubled by that thought as she led the way down a narrow alley. A slight movement up ahead made her halt. Small schools of fish swam by, monochromatic flashes of silver in the dark water. Near the surface, she knew, they would take on the iridescent hues of blue, yellow, red and green.

When Omar touched her shoulder, she pointed ahead to where a swirl of water sent fish darting and weaving away.

Omar kept a hand on her shoulder until he slipped past her, turning on a diving light whose beam cut through the water and revealed a narrow alley.

Almost at its end a huge black shape spun, whirling sand and fish in all directions. Omar reached back and caught Beth’s hand, pulling her forward.

Her first instinct was to resist, but Omar’s gentle tug brought her alongside him as he moved slowly toward the black shape, the light beam shifting from side to side until the giant ray was fully revealed.

The black wings of the creature seemed to cover the entire alley as it spun and lifted into the water above them, a dark shadow passing swiftly over their heads.

Beth had done extensive diving, but she’d never seen a ray that big. They both watched as the creature disappeared.

This time Omar led the way into the alley.

While the other divers had selected the heart of the city to begin their search, Beth was operating on a hunch. Con was a goddess who came and went in Herakleion. Alexandria was actually the place she’d called home, as had her ancestors. Because much of Con’s fortune-telling abilities came in dreams, Beth was working on the premise that Con’s temple might be on the western edge of the city, where the sun set.

Legend had it that one of Con’s ancestors was the lover of Alexander the Great, and that she’d waited for his return in the city that bore his name. It was said that this ancient seer was the woman who’d given Alexander his greatest battle strategies. With her ability to see into the future, she could divine the plans of his enemies. Once Alexander knew their plans, he deployed his armies to defeat them.

Most scientists didn’t believe in Con or in any of the legends attached to her lineage. But most scientists were men, Beth thought as she swam behind Omar, watching his long legs kick rhythmically.

Men never wanted to believe that women had that kind of power. Or, at least, most men. A question that interested Beth personally was why, if Con had indeed had the power of second sight, she didn’t use the power for her own advantage. Why had Con and her female ancestors used their talents for men?

Beth gazed at the doorways of what once must have been a thriving area of the city. Most were hollow openings, the doors either long gone or nonexistent. She was about to follow Omar to a turn in the alley when she saw an engraving on a stout bronze door that was slightly ajar. She stopped to examine it. The long neck, the elegant head of a feline caught her immediate attention. It was a beautifully crafted carving. She traced the pattern with her fingertip. At her slightest touch the door fell open, and she found herself in a narrow entrance hall that led only to darkness.

She felt movement in the water behind her and turned to find that Omar had come back for her. She pointed into the hallway, and he fumbled with the light, finally bringing the beam to illuminate the interior.

Just as she was about to swim forward, Omar dropped the light. It seemed to fall in slow motion, as if it would never strike the bottom. Omar followed it, but he was too slow. The light struck the floor of the sea and went out.

Left in darkness, Beth wanted to cry or curse. She was on the right track—the proof that she so desperately needed had been within her grasp. But without the light, it would be insane to go into the dark recesses of the building. Most sea creatures were completely harmless, but not all of them.

Omar tapped her shoulder and made apologetic gestures. She forced herself to pantomime that she understood. It was an accident.

Checking her watch, she made a decision. She would send Omar back to the boat for another light. She would mark this spot with some of the floating markers she’d brought along and then try to find some other members of her crew and use their light.

She tried to make her decision clear to Omar, regretting each moment that she hadn’t purchased the more expensive dive equipment that would have allowed verbal communication. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty. She’d scrimped on the dive suits to be able to buy the underwater video, still-camera equipment and optic computer that would document her find.

Finally giving up on making Omar understand, she marked the spot with a balloon that she tied to the doorway and began to go in search of other crew members.

Omar swam behind her, keeping close enough to stay constantly in her thoughts. He was a highly perceptive man, and one who knew about diving. Why had it been so difficult to make him understand her need for another light? She gnawed at that question as she swam.

They’d swum for ten minutes when Omar tapped her shoulder, indicating that he was headed up for another light. Beth nodded, then continued on her way to find John and Ray or Judy and Sam.

She’d memorized the quadrants of the city that the others were searching and swam toward the nearest section with as much speed as she could muster. She saw the air bubbles before she saw the divers. John Gilmore was examining what could only be a sarcophagus. Camera at his eye, he was documenting the carvings and hieroglyphics that covered the stone funery.

He must have sensed her arrival because he looked up, lowering the camera. Ray swam over from the carvings he’d been studying. Beth motioned to them to help find the others. They immediately swam north while she headed west. It didn’t take her long to find Sam and Judy. She led Sam and Judy back to where she’d discovered John and Ray.

As soon as John and Ray returned, Beth made a few motions, describing her discovery, and they all swam back toward the alley.

Eyes open for the floating marker, Beth covered the same territory twice before she realized that, somehow, the marker was gone.

Borrowing John’s light, she searched the area until she found the alley. Once there, she led her crew to the doorway with the carved cat. Watching John’s face, she knew that her intuition was right on. His face registered the same excitement she felt, and he was already preparing the video camera.

Slowly, in the beam of two lights, the small crew entered the dark hallway, swimming carefully until they were suddenly in an open room that brought all of them to a stop.

“Holy Christmas,” Beth mouthed around her regulator as she stared at the incredible statues that lined two sides of the chamber. This place had to be a temple.

John pointed to a limestone altar at the front of the room. Behind it stood another statue—that of an incredibly beautiful woman. In the center of her forehead was a third eye.

“Con,” Beth mouthed.

“Con,” John said, removing his mouthpiece and mouthing the word so that air bubbles burst from his mouth and sped toward the surface.

“We’ve found her,” Beth said, even though she knew no one could possibly understand what she was saying.

OMAR HUNG BACK, the light in his hand, as he watched the divers enter the alley. Even though he’d gone back and cut the balloon marker free, Beth had been able to find the alley with little trouble. Now they were undoubtedly in the temple of Con.

Omar had never seen the temple, but he was aware that it existed. Until the scientists had found Herakleion on the bottom of the sea, the secret of Con’s temple had seemed safe for eternity.

Now, though, the trail to the lost City of Con was at stake. And Omar’s sacred vow was in danger of being broken.

He waited until the last of the research crew had disappeared in the watery temple before he swam down to join them. Whatever he did, he could not let Beth or any of the crew members suspect he was trying to hamper their efforts.

Slipping through the dark hallway, he stopped at the entrance to the temple sanctuary. For centuries this temple had been buried safely beneath the sea. He knew all about it from the stories that had been handed down to him through the ages. He knew that Beth had made an important discovery in her quest.

He swam slowly to the front of the chamber, stopping at the altar to look up into the face of a statue that could easily have been modeled after his mother. Con. The goddess who had unlocked the secrets of the third eye, the woman to whom he could directly trace his blood.

He stared at the statue, comparing it to the ones in the secret city. Very slowly he drifted to the statue and touched the cheek of the goddess. He’d never doubted the legends of his people, but now he had looked upon the goddess and her temple. He would have much to tell his followers when he returned to the desert.

Several of the scientists had gathered along one wall. He watched them, suddenly aware that Beth wasn’t in their number. He turned, searching the darkened chamber until he found her suspended in the water and staring at him.

He swallowed. Beth was perceptive. He’d given himself away by the way he touched the statue. For a second he thought of going to her, but then he swam over to see what had caught the interest of the other scientists.

The hieroglyphics on the wall were beautifully wrought, and Omar felt a stab of worry. They could easily be directions to the City of Con. He watched as John Gilmore began the process of filming the entire wall. John moved slowly over the symbols, giving the camera plenty of time to record. Carefully he began to work his way around the temple.

The other scientists fanned out, each one working on a statue or some aspect of the temple. Omar knew they had to work fast. They had only so much oxygen left in their tanks. Against all odds, Beth had come to Herakleion and discovered the secret that had been buried in the watery grave for more than two thousand years.

Omar knew that he was going to have to figure out a way to re-bury that secret, if he intended to keep his lost city safe from the prying eyes of the world.

OKAY MISS EXPLORER has been down there long enough. Omar has been back for another light, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the lady scientist. I’m beginning to get a little nervous.

Now my sassy, red-haired friend, Mauve, is squealing with delight. She’s got a death grip on one of those machines, and she’s jumping up and down with excitement. The skipper is looking at her like she’s crazy.

I think it’s safe to assume that Beth has hit pay dirt. She must have found the temple she was looking for. I’m delighted for her. Now maybe we can get off this creaking, lurching boat and get back to dry land.

Someone is transmitting images from the bottom to the equipment Mauve is operating. Now I can just slip up here and see what all the excitement is about. At first glance it looks like that old Lloyd Bridges show, Seahunt. Lots of watery images and… What’s that white thing? Looks like a woman.

A woman with an eye smack in the middle of her forehead.

Con.

So Beth has found her. This is exciting. Now here comes a bunch of images of what looks like drawings intended to say something. I’m no Egyptologist, but I’d call those things hieroglyphics. Someone is going to have a lot of fun trying to figure out what they say.

Hmm, there’s the image of Con with a white crown holding a handful of some wheatlike grain. And it would seem it’s Con again, but this time her crown is red. And she’s riding a bull. I don’t have a clue what it means, but I like a woman who can ride bulls.

It must have taken whoever carved these things in stone half a lifetime to do it. They’re very complex. I just wonder if anyone can really decipher what they mean.

I remember what Beth said earlier about doubt. She’s right. Doubt is the thing that can kill genius. Beth will eventually decipher the hieroglyphics, and when she does, we’re on our way into the desert.

We have two days for her to work on this. Now we’ll see exactly how good John Gilmore is at his work.

Look, the camera is on Omar. He’s staring at the hieroglyphics as if he could burn them into his memory—or else burn them off the stone wall. There’s something about our desert guide that bears watching. Close watching. And I’m just the cat for the job.

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