I'm so glad to see people are reading this story! Thanks especially to Bloody Jack Sparrow for the review. I hope you're all enjoying this as much as I've been writing it. I've been trying to plan out what's going to be happening a few chapters down the road, as I've had the ending all set for a while. If all goes as planned, the next chapter should be up pretty soon. Please review, especially if you see anything I can fix up.

Disclaimer: Another week has passed, and the Mummy still does not belong to me. Such is life. Libby, Davey, and the Chathams are mine, though!

Chapter 3

"Schmuck."

For once, the city was cool, and Davey was taking full advantage of that. From the sixth story window, where he perched with one leg hanging over the ledge, he kept a close eye on the street below through his binoculars.

Never, in all his life, had he expected the British man to return to the bar. That stranger had ruined a lot of lives that night ten years ago, most importantly, Davey's. That box, that damned little box Libby had clung to for years, was his ticket to riches. It was one simple mission that the Chathams had given him. Get the box.

Then that idiot drunkard had slipped it out of her pocket. How could Libby not see that coming- she had mastered the art of picking pockets, for God's sake, she'd pulled that trick herself half a dozen times! Davey left her that night, reporting to Edwin Chatham, who was clearly not happy. Hamunaptra was their ticket to gold, their ticket to power, Davey's personal guarantee of a meal every night and a bed to sleep in (maybe even, if he was lucky, some silk sheets).

Only one of them left that meeting alive.

Soon after, he heard of Rick O'Connell and Evelyn Carnahan for the first time. They had been given credit for discovering Hamunaptra before its mysterious collapse into the desert. Somehow, they'd gotten the box from that British nitwit. That was the night he vowed revenge on the man.

After ten years, he realized with relief, he was finally going accomplish that. The bastard was staying at the Grayson-Stratford hotel, making the whole process simple—maybe even, he though sadistically, enjoyable. It was just a matter of figuring out what room he was in.

Take out the O'Connell's, get the scorpion, kill the drunk, he listed in his head. So many goals potentially accomplished at once. The idiot, Davey saw through the binoculars, stumbled off the elevator on the sixth floor. Even better, one stop for the O'Connell tribe and him.

Then he saw it. The inebriated man entered the room next to Rick and Evelyn. The room their son, Alexander, was staying in.

There was only one other member of the O'Connell party. Evelyn Carnahan-O'Connell's brother. Davey couldn't help but laugh at the irony. The world famous Egyptologist, credited for one of the greatest discoveries in the 21st century, hadn't found Hamunaptra by luck. She found it because her drunken brother had stolen that damned box.

Davey found it so humerous, in fact, it was almost enough to make him rethink revenge. Almost.

"Uncle John," a seemingly grating young voice hissed into Jonathan's ear.

"Just another hour Alex, then we'll do whatever you want. Just gotta sleep this off, buddy." He pulled the pillows back over his pounding head, silently praying that anything would distract his nephew.

"But Uncle Jon…"

"Go read your book," he moaned.

"I did read my book..." Alex replied sharply. This would normally bother him, as he didn't like to disappoint the boy, but Jon was quite convinced a scarab had crawled out of Hamunaptra, gotten into his brain, and was now trying to escape through his forehead.

He felt the soft pillow being pulled from over his eyes, and he was surrounded by penetrating sunlight from the wide open window

"And I did a puzzle," Alex continued, accentuating his point with a whack from the pillow. "And I did the math mum left me. And I organized my suitcase. And--"

Jonathan succeeded in reclaiming the pillow, turning over. "Bloody hell Alex, let me sleep!" he moaned.

"Oi, you whine more than me on a school day. Fine, go ahead and sleep. I'll go explore the city on my own. Mum'll love that."

Instantly, Jonathan was out of bed, grabbing a pile of mismatched clothes and a barely used towel as he headed towards the shower. He slammed the door, but within a second was back out to issue an almost parent-like warning to Alex.

"If you leave this room, old boy, you're dead." Alex just smiled with satisfaction.

Death by angry mother avoided another day, he thought with a smile that quickly became a grimace as he felt his stomach heave.

Fifteen minutes later, Jonathan emerged from the shower, the hangover seemingly washed away with the dirt of the dank bar. Alex was sitting on the bed, casually flipping through a book of South American animals, his newest fascination.

"So what's on the agenda today, Alex?" Jonathan asked, ruffling the boy's hair like he had done when he was much younger.

"I want to play hide and seek," he replied with a smile.

"Here?"

"Yes."

"In a hotel?"

"Obviously."

"I'm game." The child within him couldn't resist the opportunity. Late night activities now behind him, he quickly claimed the role of seeker, and began counting to one hundred.

"I can offer you 10,000 pounds," the German man stated in heavily accented English, though Libby wasn't paying attention. The long curls at the end of his mustache fluttered every time he breathed, and she couldn't seem to take her eyes away from them.

The man noticed. "Miss Grayson, I said I can offer you—"

"Yes, I know. I heard you the first time. And no, I don't accept that offer. I can tell you that the minimum price on the black market is 75,000 pounds for canopic jars. So either you give me the minimum, or I find another buyer. I don't play games."

The man's eyes widened. That's what you get for underestimating me, sucker.

Libby had seen Evy on her way out of the hotel that morning, accompanied by a man she assumed to be her husband. She'd pulled her aside quickly, not wanting to be a bother, and explained how she had agreed to meet the dealer several weeks before. After a quick assessment, Evy had told her not to take less than 75,000, though she seemed upset that it was a private collector, and not a museum. In a way, having learned a little of the other woman's background, she could understand. But money was money.

And lord knows, I need the money. Here's hoping bribery will convince the chef to stay. And the bellboys... and the... oh stop it Libby. This is just plain depressing. You are the entire staff at this hotel.

"Davies said you were easy to take," the man mumbled, writing out the check.

"I was. I got smart."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small blur rush into the dining room room, and dive under a table, bumping into the chairs. Shaking his hand, she escorted the dealer out of the dining room, the jar safely concealed in his leather suitcase. Libby folded the check in half, and stuck it in her pocket until she had time to return to her room on the eighth floor.

Looking around, she knew she ought to start setting the tables for the evening's dinner service; but curiosity got the best of her, and climbed under the table.

"Hey Alex, what are you doing under here?"

"Playing hide-and-seek with my uncle. He's been asleep all day, the git."

She muffled a laugh. "Language, language sir. You're offending my poor ears."

"Hey you're trying to make me laugh so I give myself away!" he indignantly whispered, as he tried to keep himself from laughing.

"You catch me at my game," she replied, as she moved back out into the open. "Shall I guard your hiding spot?"

"Yes, please."

Damn it, Alex. Jonathan had been up and down the eight-floor hotel, and was starting to convince himself that Alex decided to hide outside the hotel. The door cracked open to the left of the lobby gave him hope. He entered a large dining room, with long walls lined with white-clothed tables.

A short, thin young woman, wearing a plain navy skirt and white blouse, leaned over one of the tables, arranging dishes and silver properly. "Excuse me miss," he called, his eyes looking into corners hoping to see his nephew. "Have you seen a boy? Goes by the names Alex, he's probably hiding somewhere…"

"If he's hiding, I doubt I've seen him," she replied good-humoredly, a light laugh passing through her lips. Jonathan was left regretting the fact that his brain clearly had no way to filter out the thick comments from the more intelligent.

Busy pondering his inability to speak, he wasn't paying attention to her as she turned around, or when she gasped. But when the white plates hit the oak floor, both eyes were focused directly on the woman.

There's no damned way…. She can't be here, in this hotel…

"Libby O'Connell?"

The girl just stared, and he couldn't tell if she was angry, upset, or (as he secretly hoped) had not recognized him and been struck by his stunning good looks, thus allowing him to avoid dealing with that little pick-pocketing incident.

"I think," she said in a frighteningly calm tone of voice, "I would like my box back now please."

So much for good looks…

Well there's chapter three. Hope you all enjoyed it. The action is gonna start picking up over the next two chapters-- yay! Please leave a review and tell me what you think. All the best-- Jac