Manuscript S: It is my pleasure as editor to introduce a new dimension to these journals, an account of events recorded by the most obscure and controversial of the Emerson clan.
My son paced the room of one of our many Cairo safe houses, coiled taut as a tiger in a cage. He cut a dashing figure, and it has been with a certain unexpected pleasure that I have watched him grow into the man he has become today. Where he is nearly the same build as his cousin, Ramses, it is those blazing blue eyes, so reminiscent of my brother's own, that truly betray our peculiar, if not extramarital, family ties.
"This discovery has proved to be richer than we ever fathomed," Lawrence exclaimed. "Your tip from Yussuf proved to be worth more than his weight in gold. It all almost seems too easy, to make off with it all."
"Well, we haven't yet, my boy."
"Oh, but we will. We will, and revel in the spoils." His smile was fierce and mischievous, the rogue trickster shining through the well mannered Egyptologist shell he'd cultivated for this operation.
Yet, there was a distant look in his eyes that worried me. "Second thoughts? Reservations?"
"I think Ramses is on to me."
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, perhaps not as surprised as Lawrence expected. That boy was deviously clever, a fine specimen of Emerson intellect. Of course, with that dear mother of his, how could he have been anything but?
"He nearly followed me here. Disguised as a street thug, but I'm certain it was him. I escaped myself from the back of the shop in raggy robes and a crutch. I know he watched me retreat, but the ol' boy has no idea the tricks in our respective bags run so similar in root."
"You think he will out you?"
"If he gains proof, yes."
"Then we must pull this off soon."
"Yes…"
Once again, that strange note of hesitance, so uncharacteristic of my son.
"What is it, my boy?"
"Once we pull this off, I will need to disappear from the Emerson's eyes. There will be no maintaining of innocence, not after its done."
"And this poses a problem why? Have you become so fond of the Emersons you truly wish they would adopt you?"
My comment came as an offhand jest, but the possibility stabbed a part of me I thought long disaffected.
Lawrence sighed, sensing the possible ire drifting beneath the derision in my tone. "Perhaps you will find me foolish, but I am fond of them all, truly. But it is the girl, Nefret, who I'm afraid poses the largest problem. I'm afraid---well, father, I've fallen quite in love with her! The thought of leaving her rips me to shreds inside, I don't quite know what to make of it!"
It was with some alarm I heard my son's decree. Not just for the substance of the declaration, but because I recognized the tone. I knew it well, and a similar unrequited love haunted me still to this day. "You are sure this is not just a passing fancy,?" I asked cautiously, certain I already knew the answer.
Lawrence sighed. "Quite. I've thought long and hard about it, and I would--I would even marry her, if she would have me."
"That is always the trouble, isn't it?" I mused. "If they would but have us. And what of her? Does she return your ardor?"
"She…" Lawrence turned his head. "The way she kisses me, I would like to think so, but Nefret is a passionate girl."
"So you're not sure." I did not mean to smirk, but I was not surprised in the least at the admission.
"No."
"And here, you haven't time to properly find out."
"It would seem not."
I sighed, for the thoughts that turned the cogs in my head would surely not endear me to Amelia. That is, should she ever find out of my involvement... And yet, that particular farce, the very source of my own personal demons of regret and longing, was one aspect of my life I didn't want my son's footsteps to follow. That moment, I knew what he must do, if he loved her desperately enough. Truly enough, deeply enough.
"You know, I failed to do it once, for I did not move my love quick enough from the scene of the crime, so to speak. I have replayed it countless times now, perfected the plot. But what are sons for, if not to repeat their father's mistakes, and perfect them?"
"Are you saying I should--"
"I can't help you directly with the planning, I've sworn an oath to Amelia that prevents me. However, whatever my resources are available to you--the villa in Constantinople, for instance…"
"Lawrence's well formed lips cracked in a joyous an youthful grin. "This keeps getting better and better, father. The heist of the century indeed!"
I quite agreed. Stealing treasure is one thing. But the very Light of Egypt, out from under the Father of Curses, Brother of Demons, and most formidably, the Sitt Hakim's nose?
It was certainly a plot worthy of such a clever thief as my son, and a prize worth many times more than her weight in gold.