Moderator Apology:I'd like to apologize for the ridiculously long wait for the next batch. Things were crazy for me as the company I was working for was spiraling downward and finally shut down. I'd been busy doing temp jobs and have finally found a place I fit for long term and things have settled down, so I'm back and will be updating this story and the website often.

Note:We have this story completed but I'll be waiting for a new review or two before posting the next batch. Enjoy!

Penny - November 6, 2002
At precisely 8 a.m. a black Beauford pulled up in front of the museum and stopped. The driver side and back passenger door opened at the same time. Rick O'Connell, glanced at him wife before climbing out from behind the wheel. He saw Jonathan pull her door open and wait for her to exit, but she just sat there, playing with the handle on the attaché case in her lap. She worried the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth, as she usually did when she was worried or frightened or nervous about something.

"Hey, Hon," he said, giving her his best lopsided grin. "It'll be okay. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

Evie raised her eyes to look into the face of the man she loved. That silly grin always put her at ease and she returned it with a smile of her own. "And you say I'm the charmer, Mr. O'Connell."

"What can I say?" he grinned again and bent forward to kiss her.

"Oh puleeze!" Jonathan grumbled, "Can't we just get on with it?"

Rick pulled away from his wife, cocking an eyebrow. Again he grinned at his wife and sent a comment of his own, to his impatient brother-in-law. "No need to get your knickers in a twist, Jonathan. We're comin'."

Five minutes later they sat in Evie's office waiting for the kettle of water to heat for tea. Well, two sat anyway. Evie was ensconced behind her desk, Rick sat on the window sill watching the street and Jonathan paced the room. "You know...you keep doing that and they're gonna have to replace the carpet in here," Rick offered, watching Jonathan out of the corner of his eye.

"What bloody time is it, anyway?" he snapped.

"Look up at the wall and find out."

"Alright you two. If I thought you both were gonna come here to snap at each other, I would have left you home," Evie told them.

Jonathan instantly looked contrite. "Sorry, old mum." He looked over at Rick then, who still watched out the window. At first Evie thought he'd say something to Rick, but he didn't, so she didn't press the fact. It just hurt to think, that since this whole thing had started Jonathan and Rick's friendship seemed to suffer.

Ten o'clock came and went without any fanfare. Ten-thirty, Eleven o'clock, Eleven-thirty, Twelve and still no sign of Charles Sonderburg. By now Rick and Jonathan were both antsy, both starring out the window with their heads together and whispering. No doubt plotting something. Rick said something, Jonathan nodded and Rick picked up the phone on her desk and dialed a number. The message was cryptic. "I need you...Meet me out front...Ten minutes." He kissed Evie on the forehead and told her, before she had a chance to ask what he was going to do. "Stay put," then turning he and Jonathan headed out the door.

"RICK!"

"Stay here!"

She went to the window and wished she hadn't when she saw him lift the trunk lid and pull out the Colt and check it's chamber. "What are you getting into now?" she whispered.

Fifteen minutes later the Beauford pulled up in front of a stately old Victorian home lined with English Oaks on Broadmore. Rick and Jonathan climbed out of the front and Ardeth exited the back. "Okay, he was supposed to show at ten," Rick said again for the umpteenth time, as he slid the gun inside his waistband. "Last night when he came to the manor, he was pretty jumpy. Something had him spooked."

"I remember speaking with him in Cairo, after the old man's murder and he was upset then. He told me he was returning to England, that he had to visit someone, but he didn't say it was your family," Ardeth told him.

"Let's face it, old chap," John piped up," If I didn't know you from Adam, with that perpetual frown on your face all the time and you came asking me questions about a dead man, one that I might add was murdered, I don't think I'd tell you anything either!" To prove Jonathan's point, Ardeth scowled at him and walked off to follow Rick up the steps. "See! See! I rest my case!"

Rick knocked on the large door and stopped dead when it swung slowly open with a creak, to reveal a darkened interior. "Dammit, this is not good." Instinct said, 'Back away. Go home. Uh-uh. Nope. Not today buddy.' As he pulled out the Colt and cocked the trigger, he knew this was one of those days, when not paying attention, was going to land him in trouble. "Knock! Knock! Anybody home?" Even to him it sounded lame. "Man I hate this! You two stay behind me." Then he grumbled under his breath," I don't wanna accidentally shoot Jon. Evie would really get mad then."

"And so would he," came the British accent from behind.

"You keep talking chucklehead, and I just might make an acceptation in your case. Now pipe down," he half hissed as he crossed the threshold. The outer hallway was dark, due to the heavy draperies. How anyone could live with out sunlight was beyond him. Not to mention it was musty in here. The place needed a damned good airing out he thought. The place reeked. Reeked? Instinct Number Two. ALWAYS Obey Instinct Number One. "DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!"

"What?" came two voices in unison.

"Take a whiff. That ain't Sunday pot roast!" He took another step forward, slipped in the dark and cussed as he went sprawling to the floor. "Dammit to hell!"

Ardeth knelt by his side. "Are you alright, ahi?"

"Yeah, what the hell was that," he asked half jokingly, "The body?"

"Ah...ah..." was just about all Jonathan could get out.

Rick knew by the shock in Jonathan's voice that, that was exactly what it was. "Sonderburg?"

"Uh...huh."

"Jonathan, stay there. Ardeth, see if you can find a damned light switch and close the front door! We don't need the neighborhood coming by to drop in for tea and cookies," Rick growled. Then under his breath he mumbled, "I don't think our host is in the mood to bake any today."

Once the door was closed and Ardeth flipped on a switch, Rick wished he hadn't. There was an audible gasp from Jon and Ardeth had come to a complete stand still. Still sitting where he had fallen, Rick looked up into their faces, who were now looking at him and back to the body. Not once had he looked for it when the light came on, there would be time to do that, once he was up. He turned slowly and almost put his hands on the floor. It took his mind only a second to register what he saw. "Uh-huh! Ardeth! Give me a hand here! NOW PLEASE!"

Ardeth reached down and clasped Rick by the forearm and pulled. "You still have it all over your hands," he told Rick.

"And...on your...pants..." Jonathan stammered. Poor Jonathan looked like a new sheet.

Rick looked at his hands then and his pants. Blood! "Great. Just great! Look I gotta get this off. I can't...I'll..." he walked farther down the hall. "Where is the damned kitchen!" He disappeared and came back a short time later to find that Ardeth and John had also disappeared. "Okay, you guys, this is not funny. Where the hell did you go?" He listened for a minute and heard muffled voices, off to his right, behind a heavy oak door. "The place looks like a bloody bomb went off in here! What the duce do you suppose they were looking for?"

Jonathan seemed to have gotten over his shock pretty well. Probably had a lot to do with the placement of the body, in relation to Jonathan. He was in there and Sonderburg was out here. Rick looked at the body and shrugged, "Hey. No offence but, I'm with Jon on this one." He turned the knob and went inside.

The room indeed looked like a bomb went off inside it. Pictures hung at odd angles, drawers had been pulled out, papers scattered everywhere, furniture over turned and the cushions ripped to shreds. Somebody was looking for something and Rick knew what it was. The papers and letters Sonderburg was going to give Evie! These guys were thorough and he bet the rest of the house looked just like this. Well, that was that, he thought. Another dead end. Hell.

"What the...BLOODY HELL!"

Rick and Ardeth both looked at Jonathan in time to watch him get his feet tangled in a Persian carpet and go sprawling ass over tea kettle to the hardwood floor. Rick knelt on one side, Ardeth on another. "Are you alright, Jon?"

He looked up at Rick, aggravation in his eyes. "Hell of a place to put a rug, I must say."

"It could have been worse," Rick shrugged. "Could have been Sonderburg."

Jonathan paled once again and swallowed with a nod to his head.

"Rick. Look."

He and Jonathan both turned their heads to look at Jonathan's feet. "Is that what I think that is?" Rick asked.

"By Job, it a floor safe!" Jonathan exclaimed, crawling the short distance. "And look, it hasn't been opened."

What Rick was thinking would get them tossed in the big house, but what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound. "Jonathan you think you can open it?"

Jonathan looked at him, like he'd sprouted another head. "ARE YOU DAFT?" he squeaked.

"Look, Sonderburg was going to bring those letters and papers this morning right? The ones that belonged to Aswad what's-his-name? What if this Skarzinski was looking for them and he couldn't find them, so he killed the old man. And what if, he had them hid here in the safe? Look Jon, you said yourself the safe wasn't open. What if they're still in there? The question is, Jon...Who is going to benefit more from them? You and your sister or Skarzinski?"

Ten minutes later the safe was open. "There's nothing in here but an old journal and a couple old bonds and WHATS THIS? HELLO!" Jonathan said pulling out an old leather wallet. He opened it up and a picture fell out. He picked it up and looked at the couple and the baby in the woman's arms. He squinched up his nose and handed it to Rick, saying, "Homely little bugger, isn't he? I fancy they tied a lamb chop around his neck to get the dog to play with him."

Rick looked at the picture of the young couple for a minute and put it back in the wallet and slipped it inside the journal. He was disappointed the safe hadn't yielded more, but maybe there was something in the journal that might help. "Let's get the hell outta Dodge, boys and girls. Time to go." He stood up and slipped the journal in his back pocket. "Jonathan close the safe and pull the rug back over it. Ardeth cut the light on the way out."

When they opened the door, they were surrounded by Bobbies. Someone had called the law. And there stood Rick O'Connell, his hands in the air, gun tucked in his waistband, and blood on his pants and the GOODS stuffed in his back pocket. Always, always pay attention to your instincts, his conscience told him.

What seemed like an eternity later, when in reality it had only been two hours, all three of them had been turned loose! When Rick had gotten the courage to ask why, he had been told there was a witness to Charles Sonderburg's murder, who had cleared the trio of any involvement. They were free to go. They gave Rick back his gun and the journal. One Bobbie told him he could keep the pants, and that there was a good cleaner over on Purdue, if he decided he didn't want to throw them out.

Sheri L (pen name Lucky Fannah) December 11, 2002
Leaving the police station, not a word was spoken in the car. Jonathan had had enough and his temper was out of control. His fists were knotted and clenched at his sides and he struggled to remain calm. Finally, he could take it no longer.

"Bloody hell!" "How long did we sit in that damn cell ... 2 1/2 hours? CRIKEY! We need to find this Skarzinski fellow and fast!" Jon began to chew the fingernail of his right thumb.

Rick and Ardeth both sighed in unison. "Just where do you suppose we should start looking, Sherlock?" Rick said, beginning to lose his cool.

Jonathan raised his voice to be heard over Rick's. "We START by taking a left turn right here and picking up my sister from the museum!" "Did you bloody well forget already?"

Rick almost slammed the brakes on to stop the car. Instead, he continued down the road, only slower so he could glare at Jonathan in the back seat. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Ardeth placed a steadying hand on Rick's shoulder.

"Don't snap at me, Mr. Carnahan!" Ardeth and I are trying to do all we can to help you and Evelyn here, got that buddy?"

Jonathan slammed his fist into the seat of the car, but he did not say another word till they picked up Evie and returned to the house.

Once there, Jonathan asked Evie for the journal. Pacing as he did so, Jon combed the journal for any sign of a clue. Then Rick walked up to him and snatched the book out of his hands.

"Why the hell did you go and do that for, O'Connell?" Jonathan hadn't called Rick O'Connell in over 10 years, at least!

"You are driving me absolutely out of my mind! Now go sit down!" Rick placed his hand on Jonathan chest, as if to force him into a seat.

Jon pushed Rick's hands away with a jerk and his eyes lit up with fire. "I AM NOT A DOORMAT! DON'T THINK YOU CAN COME IN HERE AND WIPE YOUR BOOT PRINTS ON ME!"

Then Jonathan turned quickly and headed up the stairs. Jonathan's eyes began to sting. He had never become that angry with his brother-in-law, until now. He was ashamed and appalled at his reaction to all of this going on around him. I have to get out of here, he thought.

Rick, Ardeth, and Evie all stood in shock as they listened to Jonathan's footsteps climbing the three flights of stairs to his third floor suites. Evie's voice broke and she began to cry. "I've never seen him like this before. I think I'm losing him, Rick!"

Jonathan came back down the stairs in a blur. He ran out of the house, down the gravel driveway and out into the street, oblivious to his surroundings. He didn't hear the car speeding towards him until it was too late.

Jonathan looked up and saw the grill work on the front of the car. He managed to cry out as he jumped up in the air pulling his knees in close to his chest. This Olympic caliber leap saved his life, as he came down on the backside of the car, tucking and rolling into the ditch.

Everyone inside the Carnahan-O'Connell home came running out into the street when they heard Jonathan's scream. Jonathan was lying face down in the ditch, trying to get his breath back that had been forced out of his lungs.

Jonathan tried to make it to a standing position, but clutched his shoulder in pain. Still, he managed to wipe enough mud off his face to see his family come running towards him. "Bloody hell!" "Just look at my clothes!"

Rick started to look Jonathan over, trying to find any other damage than to his clothes. Rick grabbed onto Jon's right arm and helped him stand. Jonathan batted his hands away, then yelped in pain while moving his left arm. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Looking, damn it! Hold still!" Rick looked suspiciously at the cut over Jonathan's eye that Jonathan kept rubbing.

"Damned mud's all over me!"

"Got some bad news ol' buddy. That's not mud you're rubbing off. That's blood."

"BLOODY HELL!"

"Yep, that's about right," Rick nodded. "And I'd say it's gonna take about five stitches to close it up too."

"What happened, sadiq?", Ardeth asked.

Jonathan was livid, but clearly in pain. "Bloody damned car came out of nowhere and the buggar tried to run me down!", he fumed.

Then Ardeth reached out and touched Jon's left shoulder and Jonathan stepped back away from the pain, nearly falling down into the ditch all over again. "Ungh! I think it's my shoulder."

"Don't snap at me, Mr. Carnahan!" Ardeth and I are trying to do all we can to help you and Evelyn here, got that buddy?"

Jonathan slammed his fist into the seat of the car, but he did not say another word till they picked up Evie and returned to the house.

Once there, Jonathan asked Evie for the journal. Pacing as he did so, Jon combed the journal for any sign of a clue. Then Rick walked up to him and snatched the book out of his hands.

"Why the hell did you go and do that for, O'Connell?" Jonathan hadn't called Rick O'Connell in over 10 years, at least!

"You are driving me absolutely out of my mind! Now go sit down!" Rick placed his hand on Jonathan chest, as if to force him into a seat.

Jon pushed Rick's hands away with a jerk and his eyes lit up with fire. "I AM NOT A DOORMAT! DON'T THINK YOU CAN COME IN HERE AND WIPE YOUR BOOT PRINTS ON ME!"

Then Jonathan turned quickly and headed up the stairs. Jonathan's eyes began to sting. He had never become that angry with his brother-in-law, until now. He was ashamed and appalled at his reaction to all of this going on around him. I have to get out of here, he thought.

Rick, Ardeth, and Evie all stood in shock as they listened to Jonathan's footsteps climbing the three flights of stairs to his third floor suites. Evie's voice broke and she began to cry. "I've never seen him like this before. I think I'm losing him, Rick!"

Jonathan came back down the stairs in a blur. He ran out of the house, down the gravel driveway and out into the street, oblivious to his surroundings. He didn't hear the car speeding towards him until it was too late.

Jonathan looked up and saw the grill work on the front of the car. He managed to cry out as he jumped up in the air pulling his knees in close to his chest. This Olympic caliber leap saved his life, as he came down on the backside of the car, tucking and rolling into the ditch.

Everyone inside the Carnahan-O'Connell home came running out into the street when they heard Jonathan's scream. Jonathan was lying face down in the ditch, trying to get his breath back that had been forced out of his lungs.

Jonathan tried to make it to a standing position, but clutched his shoulder in pain. Still, he managed to wipe enough mud off his face to see his family come running towards him. "Bloody hell!" "Just look at my clothes!"

Rick started to look Jonathan over, trying to find any other damage than to his clothes. Rick grabbed onto Jon's right arm and helped him stand. Jonathan batted his hands away, then yelped in pain while moving his left arm. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Looking, damn it! Hold still!" Rick looked suspiciously at the cut over Jonathan's eye that Jonathan kept rubbing.

"Damned mud's all over me!"

"Got some bad news ol' buddy. That's not mud you're rubbing off. That's blood."

"BLOODY HELL!"

"Yep, that's about right," Rick nodded. "And I'd say it's gonna take about five stitches to close it up too."

"What happened, sadiq?", Ardeth asked.

Jonathan was livid, but clearly in pain. "Bloody damned car came out of nowhere and the buggar tried to run me down!", he fumed.

Then Ardeth reached out and touched Jon's left shoulder and Jonathan stepped back away from the pain, nearly falling down into the ditch all over again. "Ungh! I think it's my shoulder."

Penny - December 11, 2002

Inside the library, Jonathan sat on the huge overstuffed couch, his left arm in a sling and a gauze bandage above his eye. He looked like he had been in a war and lost but, the look on his face said he'd go back for more, if he ever found the blighter behind the wheel of car that sent him rolling into a ditch. Evie poured him a cup of tea, to which Rick added a healthy shot of Glenlivet.

She frowned at her husband, but he waved it off. "He deserves it, after what the doctor put him through, pullin' that shoulder back into place, and stitches on top of that. Hell, that's just adding insult to injury if you ask me. I'd still be rolling around on the floor," he grinned at her and picked up the cup. "Look at it as a medicinal painkiller." When she continued to frown he winked at her and turned toward Jonathan.

"Here, drink this, doctor's orders."

Jonathan took the cup and wrinkled up his nose when he saw the tea. "No, thank you," he said, pushing it back in Rick's direction.

Rick curled up his lip at the sarcasm. "Just smell it, Lunk Head! Then if you still don't want it, we'll know there's something wrong with your head!"

Jon eyed him suspiciously and looked down at the cup. He took a sniff. "What is it?"

"Peace offering. Take it or leave it. Your choice."

Jon took a tentative sip. Then another. "Thank you." He leaned back against the couch settling into the cushions and continued to take small sips, as if the shock of the days events and the attempted hit and run were beginning to take their toll on him.

Evie picked up a crocheted afgan and laid it over her brother's lap. "Darling, why don't you let Rick and Ardeth help you upstairs, so you can rest. Let them put you in the second floor guest room. That way, you're just down the hall and not up on the third floor."

"It'll save you the extra climb, ol' buddy," Rick offered. He could see Jonathan's eyelids getting heavy and knew it was just a matter of time, till Jon was as limp as the afgan on his lap.

"Be fine here," he mumbled as the tea cup began to lean at a dangerous angle.

Rick reached over and gently removed it from his hand and grinned, hearing the soft snores. "Sleeping Beauty it out for the count," he announced. "Hey Ardeth, give me a hand with this sack of turnips, huh?" He pulled a very limp Jonathan to a sitting position and chuckled, "I've seen pate with more life than this."

Ardeth frowned at the word. "Pa...pate? What is that?"

Rick grinned even bigger. "Ground up, goose liver. You put it on a cracker and eat it."

Ardeth looked appalled. "LA!(no)"

"'Fraid so," he laughed.

"You eat this?"

"Not this Kid! Not ever! Give me a steak and potatoes any day!" He looked down at Jonathan who was beginning to lean toward the floor. "You take south and I'll take north."

Ardeth nodded and in fifteen minutes they had Jon in the second floor bedroom and tucked in. "Well, he should sleep the rest of the night, God willin' and the creek don't rise."

Ardeth wasn't sure if he would ever get used to Rick's colorful vocabulary, but maybe some things were better left unknown, he decided as they left the door ajar and went back down to the library. They had been friends and brother Med-Jai too long for Ardeth to start questioning him now. Usually whatever Rick said, made sense in
it's own way. At least to him anyway, rather it made sense to anyone else, was another matter altogether.

Back in the library, they sat over coffee and sandwiches, Evie had been busy fixing, when they had carried Jonathan off to bed. They poured over the journal for hours, yielding nothing really, but names and places. Jon and Evie's parents, Sonderburg, somebody by the name of Christopher and Caroline O'Malley, and Allan Skarzinski. As far as places it mentioned Thebes, Luxor, Karnak, Cairo and even a place that still sent shivers down Rick's spine just thinking about the damn place. Hamunaptra! "Great," he thought to himself, "MORE DAMN BOOKS!" He suddenly had the urge to ask his beautiful wife as she translated Aswad's Arabic into English, that if she didn't believe in curses and fairy tales and hokum, WHY THE HELL DID THEY ALWAYS SEEM TO BE SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DUNG HEAP?

He saw the look in her eye before she even spoke and felt the dread in his stomach clench tight. He knew what was going through her head. "Evie? NO!"

"Then stay home. Jonathan and I can manage on our own." He glanced at the ceiling, thinking of his brother-in-law. "Yeah like he managed all that great today," he shot back.

"Go or stay. Like you told Jonathan earlier. It's YOUR choice!"

Hell, he'd lost the war before the battle even started. They were going to Egypt. Not for a visit or to see old friends or a vacation. NO! They were gonna play Sherlock Holmes and probably get shot in the ass in the process. Weren't they lucky, he thought with a frown. He sighed, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to talk her out of it, once her mind was made up.

"Okay. I'll go to the docks tomorrow and look the WaSi (Guardian) over and you can pack. It hasn't been that long since we sailed her so I imagine all she needs is some of the basics. Oil, petrol, food, water. You know basics," he sighed again. "The rest Hon, you can take care of from here. Passports, Jon, Alex." Then he mumbled, "Flowers for my funeral."

They continued to talk until it grew late and decide to turn in. Ardeth would spend the night and go with Rick in the morning to retrieve his bag from the hotel, where he would stow it on the yacht. They would leave when The WaSi was stocked and ready to go, which Rick said would be about nine.

At precisely 3:35, the residents of the manor woke to a loud crash on the first floor. Rick O'Connell grabbing both Colts told his family to stay where they were. He flipped a switch and the down stairs hallway flooded with light. Followed by Ardeth Bay, scimitar in hand they moved cautiously down the stairs. The front door stood wide open and a cold wet night made its way into the manor. Ardeth moved past Rick pushing at the door to close it against the rain and wind. He turned in time to see Rick staring into the library. He too stared in disbelief. It looked like Sonderburg's home, when they had went inside minus the body, thank Allah. Papers, books, furniture and pictures were all in disarray. Whoever it was, was just as through. Nothing seemed untouched.

With hands on his hips, Rick glared at the destruction. "Well this just keeps getting better and better!"

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