Chase of the Mummies: An Ethan Sparks Adventure

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Acknowledgements

With special gratitude to all the Ethan Spark’s fans. To my supportive wife, Jenn. To Dr. Gary Stickel, the real-life Indiana Jones, for his endorsement. To Sara Drake, a true friend. To Amy C. Bullock and Vincent Holbrook for their insightful input. To Charlene Surratt and the W.S./F.C. Schools. To Tammy Balser and the entire seventh grade class at Northwest Middle School. As always, thanks to Becky Carignan, Reneé Johnson, Susan Ellington and Russ Palmer for their on-going support.

Chapter One

The moment that we touched down at the Cairo airport, I knew we were in danger. Call it a gut feeling, intuition, or what you want. I just knew it—as sure as I knew my name is Ethan Sparks.

The jet taxied too fast up to the airport terminal, jerking to a stop so hard that my head bounced against the upright seat back.

Barely catching my breath, I watched my father rise from his seat in front of me and stumble, his head banging against the bulkhead. He struggled to get his laptop computer into its scarred brown leather satchel.

Murphy, his bodyguard, had to help him. My dad could be clumsy, but this type of bungling was definitely excessive.

I turned to Rolf, my dad’s team photographer, so only he could see me wincing. He nudged me. I looked up to see my father and Murphy walking off the plane.

We quickly followed them onto the jetway just in time to see my dad trip. Unable to grab onto anything, the famous Dr. Sparks, archaeologist and adventurer, fell dead- weight onto his arm.

When his bodyguard helped him up, my dad groaned in pain. I dropped my backpack and ran to him.

Dad! I yelled. Oh no! Your arm is bent weird! It’s broken!

So it is, my dad said with a weird calm. His eyes were watery and he could barely keep them open, but he managed to turn to Rolf and say, Please take Ethan to the hotel. It looks like Murphy will be taking me to the hospital.

Rolf, his face pale, nodded as he bent to pick up my backpack.

Murphy grabbed a windbreaker from his carry-on and formed a sling. He carefully put it over my father’s shoulder, slipping Dad’s broken arm into the cradle.

I just stood there.

Go, Ethan, Dad said with a shallow breath. It’s all right. I’ll go to the hospital, then join you at the hotel as soon as I can.

No! I insisted. I want to go to the hospital with you!

Please Ethan, my father rasped. Just do what I say. He reached his good arm out to squeeze my shoulder and started to keel over again. Murphy managed to catch him this time.

Go! the beefy bodyguard commanded. I’ll call you from the hospital with an update.

Okay! Okay! I yelled. I’ll wait for you back at the hotel.

Dad and Murphy walked down the jetway and disappeared.

I turned to Rolf. Do you remember the name of the hotel?

Yes, he said. It’s the Conrad International.

Okay, let’s go, I sighed, following the signs to Passport Control. Shrill Egyptian muzak played loudly over a crackling loudspeaker.

I just can’t believe Dad broke his arm.

Chapter Two

I went through Passport Control on autopilot. Rolf acted as my guardian and did all the talking. Sometimes it’s convenient being a kid.

The officer looked Rolf up and down with narrow, suspicious eyes because Rolf is a thirty-year-old hippie who never combs his hair. Rolf tugged at the three wisps of hair on his pointy chin like he always does when he’s nervous.

Dad and Murphy had a much easier time clearing passport control than we did. Dr. Sparks’ passport was probably flagged as a visiting V.I.P. He’s the keynote speaker at this year’s International Archaeology Symposium here in Cairo.

Passport, the officer demanded.

Huh? I muttered, trying to catch sight of my dad or Murphy.

Your passport, the officer repeated impatiently. I need to see.

Okay I said, handing it to him. Sorry. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dad and Murphy heading for the exit door.

I turned to the officer. He looked at my passport photo, then up at me, then back to the photo again.

It’s me, I nodded. I had a recent growth spurt. I’m 5’ 8 now. See, I said, pointing from head to toe, brown hair, green eyes, one hundred and twenty-six pounds, size eight shoe."

Yes, the officer said, stamping my passport. And very smart mouth.

Yeah, I agreed. That’s me. A grin threatened to leak out of the corner of my smart mouth as the officer returned my passport.

I hurried after my father, but the security guard at the exit door threw out his hand to stop me.

Customs, the guard grunted, a toothpick hanging out of his mouth. Do you have anything to declare?

No, I said.

Go to the Green Aisle, the officer insisted, pointing to it.

Clearing customs, I was finally allowed into the main terminal. A uniformed chauffeur was leading Dad and Murphy off into the chaotic crowd.

A freakishly tall giant with bleached blond hair was right behind them. He looked like Hercules. Abruptly, Dad stopped to catch his breath.

The giant stopped as well. He just stood there. Then Dad started walking again and so did Hercules.

Oh yeah, I thought. Hercules is following them, and Murphy is oblivious.

Pushing my way through the jumble of people hugging, I felt like a pinball being shoved left and right. I had to get Murphy’s attention somehow. Finally I broke out through the crowd and followed the stream of arrivals down to the baggage claim area.

I was surprised to find Murphy at the bottom of the escalators, waiting for me. I watched as Hercules walked right past him.

Taking the steps two at a time, I hustled down to Murphy. Where’s my dad? My eyes darted around, searching for my father.

Your dad’s waiting in the car with the driver. The burly bodyguard shoved a bunch of claim checks into my hand. I want you and Rolf to collect our baggage.

I nodded, looking around for Hercules. No hide nor blond hair of him. I turned to tell Murphy about the suspicious giant, but Murphy was gone too.

Rolf caught up with me. Hey little man! he exclaimed. Slow down, will ya?

I turned to him, shoving all the claim checks into his hand. Go get our luggage. I’ll meet you outside at the taxi stand.

He just looked at me. Please, Rolf, I insisted, swallowing a nasty wad that had lodged itself in my throat.

Okay, he said. I can get a cart, collect all the baggage and meet you at the taxi stand. But you need to chill little man!

I just sprinted for the exit door. A blast of hot air hit my face as I hustled out into the Cairo chaos. Standing on the curb, I quickly looked left, then right. To my left was a long row of black cabs with white bumpers. To my right, I saw Murphy pacing back and forth in an empty parking space, yelling into his cell phone.

I ran towards him. Murphy! I screamed. Where’s Dad?!

When he saw me, the bodyguard stabbed the button on his phone to end his call. His beefy face was as red as my backpack.

Ethan, he demanded, grabbing my shoulder hard, stay calm!

But there’s a freaky giant following Dad! I shouted, pushing his hand away.

Ethan, what are you talking about? Murphy hissed. I will not tolerate your hysterics. I mean it.

Never mind! I shouted. Just tell me—did Dad remember to turn on his cell phone after we landed? Can we track him with GPS?

No, Murphy answered. But I refuse to jump to any conclusions yet, the former C.I.A. agent said, forcing the bright red flush to drain from his face.

We have to! I pressed. We have to form some conclusions to be able to run the appropriate scenarios!

Trust me, Ethan, he snapped. I’m on it! It’s my job! You just go to the hotel with Rolf! Then a flicker of understanding replaced the frustrated anger in his eyes. Ethan, he insisted. I don’t think your dad’s in danger. The whole thing’s probably just a miscommunication.

But what if Dad was kidnapped! Taken hostage! I yelled, pushing at him.

I just called the authorities here in Cairo and reported the incident.

Did you get the car’s description? Its license number?

Of course, he hissed. The first thing I did was get the driver’s identification. I pulled it up on our official itinerary, he said, holding up his command center of a cell phone. The name of the driver and his police-issued photo came up, and everything matched.

But what about the giant? The one following Dad? I struggled to keep from shouting at him. I needed Murphy to take me seriously.

I’ll look into it, Ethan. I promise.

Okay, good. I sighed. A black car marked Tourist Police was racing towards us, its siren bleating. It screeched to a halt at the curb in front of us.

Ethan, go to the hotel with Rolf! Murphy instructed, jumping into the back of the police car. Go up to the room and stay put until we get there!

The car took off, siren bleating again.

There you are! Rolf exclaimed behind me. You said you’d be waiting at the taxi stand! Rolf’s tall, skinny body could barely push the cart loaded with our luggage.

Dad’s been kidnapped! I yelled out. Murphy and the police just took off to get him back!

Rolf froze except for the three hairs on his chin that quivered when his jaw dropped. What are you saying, Ethan? He blinked. What happened?

A suspicious giant was following my dad through the airport, and now Dad has disappeared.

Is Murphy tracking your father with GPS?

No, Dad’s phone is turned off. We’re supposed to go to the hotel and just wait.

Rolf pulled out his cell phone, didn’t find any messages, and put it back in his pocket. Well, then we better get to the hotel. I’ll get a cab. You stay here with the luggage.

My head was about to explode. I could actually feel my heart drilling through my chest.

Chapter Three

Rolf and I sat in the back of the cab while the taxi driver loaded our baggage. I checked my cell phone for messages, but there weren’t any. Murphy wouldn’t pick up either.

It felt like everything around me was happening in slow motion … men in white robes and turbans floating by my open window … the roar of jets taking off … the smell of rubber tires melting on hot asphalt.

The sound of our taxi trunk slamming shut startled me. The driver jumped in. Conrad Hotel, yes?

That’s right, Rolf said. You know this hotel?

Of course! Of course! the driver exclaimed, obviously used to American tourists. "Is a bright shiny new