The Curse of the Pharaoh #1 Read Free Page B

plane!”
    “Really?”
    “Our passengers have the right to watch whatever in-flight movie they choose, and I’ll thank you not to take over the airwaves!”
    There was a roar of agreement from the other passengers. A few even clapped.
    Chandler didn’t blink. “Whatever you say, ma’am. My sincerest apologies.”
    What a disaster.
    As soon as the flight attendant took off, Agatha thanked Chandler for his quick thinking andturned to her cousin. “Let’s bag on the research till later, okay, Dash?” she said with a smile.
    “Good plan,” he agreed. “We’ll check out the files in the shadow of the pyramids. Sounds pretty cool, right?”
    Agatha looked at him, amused. “Very cool. Just one problem: there aren’t any pyramids in Luxor or in the Valley of the Kings. Unless you mean the mountain peak of al-Qurn.”
    Dash scowled. “No pyramids?” he muttered under his breath. “Some detective I am!”

N ot in her wildest dreams could Agatha have imagined the splendors of Luxor. The airport was brand-new, and its vast plate-glass windows looked out over a colorful city that seemed to vibrate with life.
    Even Dash, who’d been snoring for four hours straight, rubbed his eyes in amazement.
    “Awesome!” He stopped to exclaim every couple of steps. “Did you see that jackal-headed statue? And check out that giant sphinx!”
    “Dash, they’re just copies,” Agatha said. “The real statues are inside the Temple of Luxor and in Karnak.”
    “How do you know?” Dash frowned.
    “I read up on them while you were sleeping.”
    He spun around in alarm. “You didn’t use my EyeNet, did you?”
    Agatha held up a guidebook. “No, Dash. Sometimes you can find answers in things without screens.”
    Tailed by a silent Chandler, who was dragging the two biggest suitcases, they passed through the automatic glass doors and into an ocean of people.
    The hot air hit them like a blast from a furnace. If London was having a summer heat wave, it was nothing compared to midday in Luxor. The square was a jumble of palm trees and souvenir stands selling postcards, beads, and embroidered robes. Taxi drivers blared their horns happily, and the spicy smells of roasting kebabs wafted through the still air.
    Through the riot of color and chaotic voicesshouting in various languages, Agatha thought she heard somebody call out her name.
    “Did you hear that, too?” she asked.
    Before Dash and Chandler could answer, she heard a loud, “AGATHA! YOO-HOO!”
    In the center of the square, under an ancient stone obelisk, was a squadron of camels that would have made Lawrence of Arabia jealous. Sitting upright on a carved wooden saddle surrounded by blankets and fringe, a plump, forty-year-old woman in orange embroidered pajamas and a straw hat was waving her hand.
    Agatha knew right away who it must be: Aunt Patricia!
    “Yoo-hoo, Auntie! We’re here!” she called, making a megaphone with her hands.
    Patricia Mistery’s eyes gleamed with joy. She dismounted in no time and pushed her way through the crowd, charging forward with open arms.
    “My dear children!” she said, misty-eyed. “At long last we meet in person! I’m a great friend of both your dads, Arthur and Edgar!”
    She gave Agatha a giant hug, planting a loud smacking kiss on her cheek. Then she moved on to Chandler with open arms.
    “Ah…I’m just the butler,” he stammered, embarrassed.
    Aunt Patricia took a step backward, assessing his size. “Actually I did think you were a bit…mature to be Edgar’s son.” Her attention shifted to the teenage boy hiding behind the ex-heavyweight. “So you are young Dashiell?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Dash replied, shrinking back from her hug.
    Aunt Patricia burst out laughing and ruffled his hair. “Are you a shy boy? Too bad. You must break all the girls’ hearts!”
    Dash blushed as red as a tomato.
    “I hope you’re all hungry and haven’t been stuffing yourselves with that hideous airline food. I’ve prepared a grand