The Curse by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online Page A

made it necessary that I live in exile.”
    Exile? That was a word you didn’t hear much anymore. Sounded more like a term used when a king is banished from his country rather than someone who leaves to keep from being arrested for political views. Egypt had an authoritative government. In its entire history, it had never been a true democracy, though any regime that could keep peace and prosperity was supported by most of the people.
    I noticed a slight tic in his left eye every so often when he talked and wondered if it was just a nervous twitch or due to some other symptom. I had eye spasms once in a while; mine were mainly due to stress and fatigue.
    â€œYou will have to pardon me,” he said, “if I come across as something of a fanatic about my country’s history and the pieces that tell the story of that history. As I said, I am impressed by your own attitude toward antiquities. I find that money alone is only a short-term motivator.”
    I resisted telling him that money lacked strong motivation only to those who had plenty of it.
    â€œHaving reached the pinnacle of your profession,” he said, “I assume you have visited Egypt more than once and have acquired a great deal of experience examining our artifacts.”
    A polite way of asking for my qualifications?
    â€œI’ve been to your wonderful country three times, including an internship that allowed me to stay three months. In terms of my background, I have a master’s degree in art history and undergraduate degrees in both art and archaeology. Before starting my own company, I worked for museums and private collectors. I’m an expert on Mediterranean antiquities in general, but my main interest has been in Egyptology. I’ll be happy to provide a curriculum vitae.”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary. What I’ve been told by others is more important than one’s own assessment. But I am curious as to why you studied archaeology. Was it your original intent to become a scientist?”
    â€œI considered it—and did fieldwork in Egypt, Israel, and Jordan. I love the idea of recovering antiquities so they can be preserved in museums and enjoyed. But the reality of being hundreds of miles from the nearest restaurants, spending most of my time sifting through desert sand and shaking the scorpions out of my shoes before I put them on in the morning, wasn’t my cup of tea. I’m afraid that my idea of camping out on sand is a deluxe room facing the beach.
    â€œI studied archaeology because of my father’s encouragement. He was a college teacher but also a frustrated adventurer who would rather have been playing Indiana Jones saving antiquities for museums than lecturing behind a podium. But knowing how archaeologists worked actually helped me in appraising antiquities because it gave me an insight as to the environment that artifacts were in for thousands of years as opposed to fraudulent reproductions being produced on a daily basis.”
    â€œYes, that would be valuable experience.”
    â€œWhat piece are you looking for?”
    â€œAre you familiar with the Heart of Egypt?” he asked.
    I nodded. “Familiar enough to know that it might not exist.”
    The Heart of Egypt was a scarab, an amulet cut from stone or gem. It didn’t look like a heart but as with all scarabs, it was a representation of the dung beetle that the ancient Egyptians believed were sacred and had magical powers.
    I had my own scarab on a gold chain in my jewelry box, next to my bracelet with a cartouche on it. Like any good tourist, I bought the two amulets at Cairo’s medieval Khan el-Khalili marketplace. My name inscribed in hieroglyphics on the bottom of the cartouche identified that I was its owner. Naturally, I never questioned how the marketplace engraver managed to find the right glyphs for “Madison Dupre” because that would have taken the fun out of buying “ancient”