Part Five
O'Connell stood across the street and looked up at the museum. When he had left earlier that afternoon, after their argument and meeting her fiancé, he had decided that he'd go back to his hotel, pack his bags and leave. There was no future for him here.
But then he'd sat and he'd thought.
From the first moment that he saw her, he had considered her a very attracted woman, if a bit conservative. A bit proper. But then she had saved his life in that Cairo prison and gone on to bloom out in the desert. He saw a wonderful, adventurous, brave intelligent woman, hidden behind that shroud of an upbringing as a proper lady. Something about her spoke to something in him. He didn't realise how deeply he cared until she gave herself over to Imhotep in order to spare their lives. Horribly outnumbered, he would have fought to the death to save her.
Because he had fallen in love with her.
As he sat in his hotel room he remembered those feelings, and he knew he had never wanted anything so much as he wanted her.
Which is why he returned now, to talk to her. He loved her and no matter what either of them did, that couldn't be changed. He just hoped her could convince her of that.
Now, standing on the street watching a light moving around, he became very nervous. He knew that this was the moment of truth. Tonight she could reject him forever and ruin the rest of his life. But she could turn round and admit what he knew she still felt. It was that thought that kept him going.
He saw a movement inside. A light being carried back through to what he knew was the 'Hamunaptra' room. As he watched, it stopped abruptly and disappeared. There was the sound of glass breaking. He frowned and quickened his pace.
Then there was a scream.
O'Connell began to run.
**************************************************************************** *****
Evelyn clipped through the string holding the box with a pen knife. She then placed it on the table and opened the box to peer inside.
"Wonderful", she whispered to herself as she began taking the contents out and placing them on the bust that was sitting on the table too.
The museum's new exhibition was going to be on Egyptian jewellery. This consignment of ladies trinkets had arrived earlier in the day, but Mr Carver's visit had left her no time to sort it out. Which was why she was forced to work late. Meaning she wasn't spending time with her fiancé, but instead she was working here on her own. And thinking about Rick O'Connell.
Evelyn sighed, willing him to leave her thoughts, to make her life easier, but it obvious that he was there to stay.
Yes, he was brave and charming and kind. And, to be honest, extremely handsome. But she was virtually a married woman and she shouldn't be having thoughts about-
'No', she told herself firmly, 'Don't even think his name'.
'Even if you do love him'.
The realisation and the warm feelings that arose stunned her. She couldn't love him, she just couldn't.
"I love Nathan...", she whispered to herself, repeating it like a mantra. As if saying it enough times would somehow make it come true.
I love Nathan. I love Nathan. I love.......Rick".
She sighed, resigned to the fact. Why couldn't that annoying, tactless, rough, infuriating, gorgeous, charming man just leave her alone? Didn't he know he was bad for her?
For some reason her muddled brain chose this moment to come back into focus and she realised that for the last two minutes she had been putting every item of jewellery backwards on the bust of a lady's head.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" she scolded herself. She began to remove the items again placing them back on the table. Once she was finished, she went to look for a check list, to make sure that she got every piece back on again. Which made her realise she hadn't even made a check list.
"Oh, Evelyn!" she scolded again, and bustled off of find a pen and a piece of paper, picking up an oil lamp to light her way through the dark corridors.
"Yes, yes, yes, he's a very attractive man, but sheer....sheer physical longings are not the basis for guaranteed future happiness", she told herself firmly, "Nathan is a far better prospect".
She sighed, realising how terribly logical she was trying to be about the whole thing, when it should be her heart showing her the right path. The problem was, that her heart was going to lead her into all sorts of difficulty, which she had no idea how to tackle.
When Rick had left, she had found herself angrier than she ever could remember being. He could go out there and get swallowed in the sand as far as she cared. Then Nathan had arrived at the museum. He had been friendly and charming, and, more importantly, genuinely interested in the history of the collections, as oppose to Rick, whose curiosity had only spanned as far as how much they could sell them for. She didn't realise that Nathan's interest was also settled elsewhere though until he asked her out to dinner one night. She was certainly flattered by the attention of this handsome man, but had refused his offer. When he asked if he may know the reason for her refusal, she realised that it was not that she didn't want to, it was simply some misguided loyalty to her absent American that kept her from agreeing. Annoyed at herself, deciding that she owed him nothing and could do what she damn well pleased, she took back her refusal and had spent a very pleasant evening in the company of a charming gentleman. One pleasant evening somehow turned into another and another and another, until she found herself presented with a marriage proposal. And somehow, she agreed.
When she had told Jonathan the news, he had hit the roof in a way she couldn't imagine possible. He went on and on about what a dreadful mistake she was making and how she shouldn't decide to spend the rest of her life with someone just because he was a good man. What about love and feelings? What about the heart? She had informed him crisply that she did love Nathan, very much and that he could either be pleased for her or he could leave her company for good. Seeing the hurt look on his face, she had instantly regretted giving him such an ultimatum. Later, in a gentler mood, she had told him that she understood that he was only looking out for her welfare, and knowing that he cared so much meant the world to her. That had put the smile back on his lips and he had grandly professed that if she was happy, he was happy, and that had been the end to it.
The trouble was, as much as she hated to admit it, Jonathan was right. As hard as she tried, she could not love Nathan. She liked him. She liked him very much. She enjoyed his company and enjoyed how well he treated her. But she loved Rick. Even that terrible scene earlier had proved that. She could never imagine Nathan getting her that emotional. His presence could never make her feel so alive as the rough American did. It was a very difficult situation to find herself in.
As she returned from the office and got closer to the room, a feeling of growing uneasiness crept upon her, pushing her other dilemma into the shadows of her mind. Of course, the place was always a little creepy. The artefacts and the bodies of their dead owners saw to that. But this feeling was entirely new to her. It was how she had felt when she had walked at gun point through the bowls of Hamunaptra, a prisoner of Imhotep. It was how Jonathan said he felt overtime he saw a beetle now. Apparently the scars in his hand and shoulder began to tingle at the mere sound of a scuttle.
Some unconscious sense inside her was warning her to be on her guard. She slowed, frowning, sensing that something was wrong but not being able to figure out what.
She stepped hesitantly inside the doorway and looked around.
"Hello?" she asked, nervously, relieved to hear a sound rather than the eerie silence. It was like an undiscovered tomb.
Evelyn felt something brush her sleeve and she jumped, dropping the lamp which smashed on the ground, plunging her surroundings into dark shadows. Turning to face her attacker, she felt incredibly sheepish when she realised it had only been a drape moving in a draft. Although in her disturbed state of mind, she supposed she could be forgiven for being a little jumpy. She smiled at her own stupidity and turned to go back into the room and finish her work.
She found herself face to face with a dangerous looking man.
She managed to let out a high pitched scream before he clamped a hand over her mouth and got her arm locked behind her back, leaving her helpless.
"Please", he said, in a thick Egyptian accent, "Do not scream. I hate the sound and I would prefer you to be in silent terror. It is so much more becoming. Especially in young ladies. Now, I'm going to take my hand away. Bear in mind that if you scream again, I will break your arm, do you understand?"
To emphasize this he tugged her arm up. Evelyn's eyes widened in fear and pain and she nodded wildly, with muffled sounds of agreement.
He removed his hand.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"The book".
"The....The book? Book? What book?" she said rapidly.
"The black Book of The Dead", he answered with forced gentleness.
"Well, I'm afraid I don't know where-", she began before he yanked her arm up hard again, making her yelp with pain.
"You're trying my patience", he said, in the same calm tone.
She nodded, understanding that there was nothing she could do but co- operate. She pointed to the relevant case, "There".
He dragged her, protesting, towards it. Turning her round, he pulled the chain from her neck and handed it to her.
"Open it. Give me the book".
She went to protest again, but thought wiser of it. A broken arm would not prevent her from doing what he wanted. There was, as she reminded herself, nothing she could do.
But, there again, perhaps that wasn't true.
Opening the case she put the lid to one side and lifted the book out. She went to hand it to him and he was only inches from snatching it when she slammed it shut, a triumphant smile on her face. Without the key he'd never get those locks open. Which would prevent him selling it to any buyer and stop any mischief he had planned from the incantations in there.
His face went from disbelief to horror to anger in one smooth moment. Evelyn just decided that maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all when he smacked her hard across the cheek, knocking her to the ground. The book flew out of her hands.
She sat there in shock for a moment, touching her cheek, taking her hand away to reveal blood. When she looked back at him, now genuinely very afraid, she saw murder in his eyes.
He said something in Arabic, but her dazed brain didn't have the capacity to translate. Not that she needed it though. He sounded very angry indeed.
She tried to back up, but he reached out and pulled her to her feet by her hair.
"Evelyn!
They both turned to see O'Connell burst into the room, guns drawn, scouting for danger.
He had his weapons pointing at the right target the moment that the target put a muscular arm around Evelyn's neck, gripping her so tight he was choking her.
"I do not want any trouble", the thief said, looking steadily at O'Connell.
"Yeah, well than maybe you're in the wrong line of business", O'Connell replied dangerously, cocking his guns while advancing on the man.
"Put your guns down and I will let her go".
He shook his head, "I don't think so".
"Do you want to argue this out while she chokes to death?"
O'Connell looked at Evelyn. As the man tightened his grip she began to go limp in his arms.
O'Connell had no choice.
"Okay", he said, slowly bending down and placing his guns on the floor, holding his hands up to prove he was unarmed.
There were a few tense moments as the attacker and O'Connell both knew that as soon as he let her go O'Connell would go for his weapons.
In one sudden, swift movement the thief virtually threw Evelyn at O'Connell, and they both fell to the ground in a heap. By the time O'Connell managed to reach for his weapons and stand the man was gone. And so was the book.
He shook his head, annoyed with himself, and went and knelt down beside Evelyn who was still lying on the floor, dazed, coughing as she gratefully drew in lungful after lungful of sweet air.
"Evie?" he asked gently as he helped her to sit up, "Are you okay? Evie?"
She nodded, extremely unconvincingly as he brushed his hand tenderly across her cut and marked cheek. She winced a little and mewed softly in pain as he gently checked the rest of her over.
Obviously she was quite battered and bruised.
"I should get you home", he whispered.
"Yes. In a minute", she said and laid her head on his shoulder. 'Even if it can never happen again', she thought, 'Just let me have this moment'.
O'Connell wrapped his arms around her protectively and whispered comforting words in her ear, knowing that he wasn't going to give her up.
O'Connell stood across the street and looked up at the museum. When he had left earlier that afternoon, after their argument and meeting her fiancé, he had decided that he'd go back to his hotel, pack his bags and leave. There was no future for him here.
But then he'd sat and he'd thought.
From the first moment that he saw her, he had considered her a very attracted woman, if a bit conservative. A bit proper. But then she had saved his life in that Cairo prison and gone on to bloom out in the desert. He saw a wonderful, adventurous, brave intelligent woman, hidden behind that shroud of an upbringing as a proper lady. Something about her spoke to something in him. He didn't realise how deeply he cared until she gave herself over to Imhotep in order to spare their lives. Horribly outnumbered, he would have fought to the death to save her.
Because he had fallen in love with her.
As he sat in his hotel room he remembered those feelings, and he knew he had never wanted anything so much as he wanted her.
Which is why he returned now, to talk to her. He loved her and no matter what either of them did, that couldn't be changed. He just hoped her could convince her of that.
Now, standing on the street watching a light moving around, he became very nervous. He knew that this was the moment of truth. Tonight she could reject him forever and ruin the rest of his life. But she could turn round and admit what he knew she still felt. It was that thought that kept him going.
He saw a movement inside. A light being carried back through to what he knew was the 'Hamunaptra' room. As he watched, it stopped abruptly and disappeared. There was the sound of glass breaking. He frowned and quickened his pace.
Then there was a scream.
O'Connell began to run.
**************************************************************************** *****
Evelyn clipped through the string holding the box with a pen knife. She then placed it on the table and opened the box to peer inside.
"Wonderful", she whispered to herself as she began taking the contents out and placing them on the bust that was sitting on the table too.
The museum's new exhibition was going to be on Egyptian jewellery. This consignment of ladies trinkets had arrived earlier in the day, but Mr Carver's visit had left her no time to sort it out. Which was why she was forced to work late. Meaning she wasn't spending time with her fiancé, but instead she was working here on her own. And thinking about Rick O'Connell.
Evelyn sighed, willing him to leave her thoughts, to make her life easier, but it obvious that he was there to stay.
Yes, he was brave and charming and kind. And, to be honest, extremely handsome. But she was virtually a married woman and she shouldn't be having thoughts about-
'No', she told herself firmly, 'Don't even think his name'.
'Even if you do love him'.
The realisation and the warm feelings that arose stunned her. She couldn't love him, she just couldn't.
"I love Nathan...", she whispered to herself, repeating it like a mantra. As if saying it enough times would somehow make it come true.
I love Nathan. I love Nathan. I love.......Rick".
She sighed, resigned to the fact. Why couldn't that annoying, tactless, rough, infuriating, gorgeous, charming man just leave her alone? Didn't he know he was bad for her?
For some reason her muddled brain chose this moment to come back into focus and she realised that for the last two minutes she had been putting every item of jewellery backwards on the bust of a lady's head.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" she scolded herself. She began to remove the items again placing them back on the table. Once she was finished, she went to look for a check list, to make sure that she got every piece back on again. Which made her realise she hadn't even made a check list.
"Oh, Evelyn!" she scolded again, and bustled off of find a pen and a piece of paper, picking up an oil lamp to light her way through the dark corridors.
"Yes, yes, yes, he's a very attractive man, but sheer....sheer physical longings are not the basis for guaranteed future happiness", she told herself firmly, "Nathan is a far better prospect".
She sighed, realising how terribly logical she was trying to be about the whole thing, when it should be her heart showing her the right path. The problem was, that her heart was going to lead her into all sorts of difficulty, which she had no idea how to tackle.
When Rick had left, she had found herself angrier than she ever could remember being. He could go out there and get swallowed in the sand as far as she cared. Then Nathan had arrived at the museum. He had been friendly and charming, and, more importantly, genuinely interested in the history of the collections, as oppose to Rick, whose curiosity had only spanned as far as how much they could sell them for. She didn't realise that Nathan's interest was also settled elsewhere though until he asked her out to dinner one night. She was certainly flattered by the attention of this handsome man, but had refused his offer. When he asked if he may know the reason for her refusal, she realised that it was not that she didn't want to, it was simply some misguided loyalty to her absent American that kept her from agreeing. Annoyed at herself, deciding that she owed him nothing and could do what she damn well pleased, she took back her refusal and had spent a very pleasant evening in the company of a charming gentleman. One pleasant evening somehow turned into another and another and another, until she found herself presented with a marriage proposal. And somehow, she agreed.
When she had told Jonathan the news, he had hit the roof in a way she couldn't imagine possible. He went on and on about what a dreadful mistake she was making and how she shouldn't decide to spend the rest of her life with someone just because he was a good man. What about love and feelings? What about the heart? She had informed him crisply that she did love Nathan, very much and that he could either be pleased for her or he could leave her company for good. Seeing the hurt look on his face, she had instantly regretted giving him such an ultimatum. Later, in a gentler mood, she had told him that she understood that he was only looking out for her welfare, and knowing that he cared so much meant the world to her. That had put the smile back on his lips and he had grandly professed that if she was happy, he was happy, and that had been the end to it.
The trouble was, as much as she hated to admit it, Jonathan was right. As hard as she tried, she could not love Nathan. She liked him. She liked him very much. She enjoyed his company and enjoyed how well he treated her. But she loved Rick. Even that terrible scene earlier had proved that. She could never imagine Nathan getting her that emotional. His presence could never make her feel so alive as the rough American did. It was a very difficult situation to find herself in.
As she returned from the office and got closer to the room, a feeling of growing uneasiness crept upon her, pushing her other dilemma into the shadows of her mind. Of course, the place was always a little creepy. The artefacts and the bodies of their dead owners saw to that. But this feeling was entirely new to her. It was how she had felt when she had walked at gun point through the bowls of Hamunaptra, a prisoner of Imhotep. It was how Jonathan said he felt overtime he saw a beetle now. Apparently the scars in his hand and shoulder began to tingle at the mere sound of a scuttle.
Some unconscious sense inside her was warning her to be on her guard. She slowed, frowning, sensing that something was wrong but not being able to figure out what.
She stepped hesitantly inside the doorway and looked around.
"Hello?" she asked, nervously, relieved to hear a sound rather than the eerie silence. It was like an undiscovered tomb.
Evelyn felt something brush her sleeve and she jumped, dropping the lamp which smashed on the ground, plunging her surroundings into dark shadows. Turning to face her attacker, she felt incredibly sheepish when she realised it had only been a drape moving in a draft. Although in her disturbed state of mind, she supposed she could be forgiven for being a little jumpy. She smiled at her own stupidity and turned to go back into the room and finish her work.
She found herself face to face with a dangerous looking man.
She managed to let out a high pitched scream before he clamped a hand over her mouth and got her arm locked behind her back, leaving her helpless.
"Please", he said, in a thick Egyptian accent, "Do not scream. I hate the sound and I would prefer you to be in silent terror. It is so much more becoming. Especially in young ladies. Now, I'm going to take my hand away. Bear in mind that if you scream again, I will break your arm, do you understand?"
To emphasize this he tugged her arm up. Evelyn's eyes widened in fear and pain and she nodded wildly, with muffled sounds of agreement.
He removed his hand.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"The book".
"The....The book? Book? What book?" she said rapidly.
"The black Book of The Dead", he answered with forced gentleness.
"Well, I'm afraid I don't know where-", she began before he yanked her arm up hard again, making her yelp with pain.
"You're trying my patience", he said, in the same calm tone.
She nodded, understanding that there was nothing she could do but co- operate. She pointed to the relevant case, "There".
He dragged her, protesting, towards it. Turning her round, he pulled the chain from her neck and handed it to her.
"Open it. Give me the book".
She went to protest again, but thought wiser of it. A broken arm would not prevent her from doing what he wanted. There was, as she reminded herself, nothing she could do.
But, there again, perhaps that wasn't true.
Opening the case she put the lid to one side and lifted the book out. She went to hand it to him and he was only inches from snatching it when she slammed it shut, a triumphant smile on her face. Without the key he'd never get those locks open. Which would prevent him selling it to any buyer and stop any mischief he had planned from the incantations in there.
His face went from disbelief to horror to anger in one smooth moment. Evelyn just decided that maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all when he smacked her hard across the cheek, knocking her to the ground. The book flew out of her hands.
She sat there in shock for a moment, touching her cheek, taking her hand away to reveal blood. When she looked back at him, now genuinely very afraid, she saw murder in his eyes.
He said something in Arabic, but her dazed brain didn't have the capacity to translate. Not that she needed it though. He sounded very angry indeed.
She tried to back up, but he reached out and pulled her to her feet by her hair.
"Evelyn!
They both turned to see O'Connell burst into the room, guns drawn, scouting for danger.
He had his weapons pointing at the right target the moment that the target put a muscular arm around Evelyn's neck, gripping her so tight he was choking her.
"I do not want any trouble", the thief said, looking steadily at O'Connell.
"Yeah, well than maybe you're in the wrong line of business", O'Connell replied dangerously, cocking his guns while advancing on the man.
"Put your guns down and I will let her go".
He shook his head, "I don't think so".
"Do you want to argue this out while she chokes to death?"
O'Connell looked at Evelyn. As the man tightened his grip she began to go limp in his arms.
O'Connell had no choice.
"Okay", he said, slowly bending down and placing his guns on the floor, holding his hands up to prove he was unarmed.
There were a few tense moments as the attacker and O'Connell both knew that as soon as he let her go O'Connell would go for his weapons.
In one sudden, swift movement the thief virtually threw Evelyn at O'Connell, and they both fell to the ground in a heap. By the time O'Connell managed to reach for his weapons and stand the man was gone. And so was the book.
He shook his head, annoyed with himself, and went and knelt down beside Evelyn who was still lying on the floor, dazed, coughing as she gratefully drew in lungful after lungful of sweet air.
"Evie?" he asked gently as he helped her to sit up, "Are you okay? Evie?"
She nodded, extremely unconvincingly as he brushed his hand tenderly across her cut and marked cheek. She winced a little and mewed softly in pain as he gently checked the rest of her over.
Obviously she was quite battered and bruised.
"I should get you home", he whispered.
"Yes. In a minute", she said and laid her head on his shoulder. 'Even if it can never happen again', she thought, 'Just let me have this moment'.
O'Connell wrapped his arms around her protectively and whispered comforting words in her ear, knowing that he wasn't going to give her up.