Author's Note: Once again – thank you to everyone who read n' reviewed! I'm glad you all had as much fun reading Chapter 4 as I had writing it. There will, probably, be a brief hiatus after this update, as I need to work on my thesis (ugh!). But depending on how much work I can get done, I should be able to start posting again reasonably soon.

Now, down to business. You can hold off the APB, Nakhti – now that the groundwork has been done, the plot actually starts here!

Chapter Five: Rick

I don't get the whole brother-sister thing.

Probably because I have never actually had a brother or sister.

I guess the closest I ever had to anything like that was when I was in the orphanage in Cairo, where I had two best friends: Mahmoud, who had an even greater knack for getting into trouble than me (which was something I admired at the time) and Naima. Big brown eyes and long skinny legs. She used to patch my clothes for me when I ripped them, and I made sure that no one gave her any trouble. We were a gang of three, roaming the back streets of Cairo and occasionally picking fights with gangs of actual street kids.

We also developed a nice line in small-time scams on well-meaning tourists and picking the odd pocket. I'm not quite sure what it was we thought we would do with the money we scraped together. I think we had a kind of fantasy that when we got out of the orphanage, we'd stay together - get a house or something. We'd look out for each other and back each other up when one of us got into trouble with the nuns who ran the place.

As we were always in trouble, either individually or collectively, we backed each other up a lot.

So, that's the way it was and we thought that that's how it would always be.

Until the Reverend and Mrs Peterson of Indiana decided to do their Christian duty and remove the only white kid in the orphanage and take him back to the States. I guess they were good people (unlike Jonathan, they actually were missionaries), but they took me on because they felt they had to, not because they wanted to. And they never let me forget it.

Let's just say that the three of us didn't get on and leave it at that. They probably felt relieved when I left for good - they could tell themselves and everyone else that they had done the best they could for me, but I was just a bad lot.

I made my way back to Egypt, which was the only place I felt at home and the only place I really understood. And I did try to find Naima and Mahmoud. I went back to the orphanage, but they had left and no one knew what had happened to them.

Mahmoud would be fine - that kid could have been thrown into the Nile with lead weights on his ankles, but still bob back up to the surface with a big grin on his face. As for Naima...

Well, there are only so many options open to an Egyptian girl with no money and no family. None of them are pretty. I kinda hope that they're still together, looking out for each other. Maybe they even got that house, who knows?

But, as I said, that's the closest I ever got. So I don't entirely get the brother-sister thing. Okay, more specifically, I don't get the Jonathan-Evelyn thing.

They are nothing alike. Apart from the fact that they can both be the biggest pains in the ass I have ever met in my life, they don't have much in common. You would have thought that they wouldn't spend anymore time together than they have to, but they came to Egypt together and they actually share a flat in London. (That is a truly terrifying thought.)

The thing is, they really love each other. Evelyn complains about her brother, but she would do anything for him.

And watching Jonathan demanding to know how I feel about his baby sister was one of the funniest things I've ever seen - he turned a weird shade of green at one point. But he's not the bravest man on the planet and I'm a damn sight bigger than him, so it shows you how he feels about Evelyn that he'd actually take me on. Although, I suspect that if he really had wanted to take me on, he would have hired someone a bit more me-sized to do it for him.

So I know he loves her - but then he'll say or do something (like wanting to swap her for four camels) that makes me wonder just what the hell goes on with those two.

Which is what I wondered when I asked him if he'd seen Evy.

His response was, 'Bloody hell, O'Connell!' And then clutched his chest dramatically. Okay, admittedly, I had walked into our room without knocking, but there is no need for that reaction. I think he was asleep. I don't know how anyone can sleep as much as he does.

I asked him again and he rolled his eyes at me.

'She's not with you? Good God. Just when I was starting to think that you two were permanently joined at the lips - sorry, hip.'

Oh yeah, he's a funny guy. I glared back at him, but he didn't seem to notice.

'It's nearly seven, Jonathan, and she's still not back. She's not usually this late.'

Jonathan snorted. 'You've got a lot to learn about my sister, old boy. She's quite capable of sleeping in that Museum when she's got her mind on a task. To be honest, she's probably still trying to clear up after that little accident she had.'

I've heard about that 'little accident'. If I didn't know Evy as well as I do now, I would have said that what happened was impossible. But this is the girl who can cause a ten car pile-up just by crossing the road.

Anyhow, she has been trying to put everything back - I think she feels like she owes it to the curator - the late curator, I should say - to get it done before his successor arrives. But, being Evelyn, she won't let anyone else help her, so it's taking her three times as long. I have tried to help her, but the last time I offered, it ended up with her throwing a book at my head. Do I need to tell you that she missed and broke a window instead? Nah, didn't think so.

Jonathan smothered a yawn (for someone who sleeps so much, he's tired a lot. Go figure) and then sniggered. 'Actually, knowing Evy, she's probably knocked over another stack and is trapped under it, waiting for someone to get her out. Maybe you should run off and rescue her!'

I couldn't believe he said that. He was actually quite amused by it. And there it is again - the stuff I just don't get. I would have though that you got out of thinking it's funny that your sister might be hurt by about age ten. But what do I know?

Of course, once he'd said that, I could see the whole thing happening. Those stacks are damn heavy; and Evy is quite capable of getting herself...

'I need to borrow your car.'

That got his attention. Not concern that something might have happened to Evy, oh no, but the idea that I might actually drive his car, unsupervised.

Which is why I am in the passenger seat and Jonathan is driving us to the Museum. If he could go any slower, I'd be amazed.

He also hasn't shut up since we set off. Now, any other time, I would probably enjoy hearing about every dumb thing Evelyn has done since she was two, but right now I keep having this image of her, hurt and needing me.

If Jonathan says one more word, I swear there might be two Carnahans needing to be hospitalised tonight.

But I've just noticed that he's gripping the steering wheel really tight, so maybe he's more worried than I thought.

I'm starting to think that if I live to be a hundred, I will never get those two.