‘The smaller treasure,’ Kirby breathed. ‘The stash that Wenkaura put away in a hurry when he was found out. Then we were right. It’s all real.’

Claudel nodded sadly. ‘Yes, it’s all real. Kamal found it in the Western Desert, purely by chance. He was very quick to figure out that there was a great deal more, hidden elsewhere.’ Claudel went on, explaining how he’d become so inexorably dragged into Kamal’s affairs. ‘He’s a maniac. A reckless, brutal killer. I’ve never feared nor hated any man so much in all my life, and I bitterly rue the day I ever became involved with him.’

‘Who is he?’

‘I don’t know for sure,’ Claudel said. ‘A professional criminal. A terrorist. He and his men have virtually taken over my life. He even keeps a store of firearms in my wine cellar, and ammunition, and boxes of something called PP- 01.’ He pointed in disgust at the gun on the floor. ‘Where do you think I got this? I wouldn’t have such things in the house. I also know he’s working on some kind of plan. He talks about it all the time. It’s what he wants the treasure for, to finance it.’

Ben’s mind instantly shot back to the day in Morgan’s old flat. You’ll find out soon enough, Kamal had said. You all will. The day is coming.

‘What kind of plan?’ he asked.

Claudel shook his head. ‘He’s never discussed it with me. But I’ve heard him speak about it to his men. They’re planning an attack. Something really terrible.’

And this is why you want me involved.’

‘That, but also because I have to be free of this man. He’s like a cancer. I can’t breathe any more. I’m desperate.’

Ben thought for a moment. ‘I understand your predicament, Pierre. But you’re not the only person under pressure. Why is this my concern?’

Claudel wiped sweat from his brow. ‘Because Kamal is after the same thing as you, and that’s a problem for you. And because I can help you find it. I know where Wenkaura’s throne is.’

‘That’s great,’ Kirby cut in.

Ben ignored him. ‘Why would you want to help me find it? I’m a rival. You’re hunting for the treasure, so am I.’

‘I don’t want anything more to do with the treasure. My life is in pieces. No amount of wealth is worth this. I had a perfectly good business before I got into this situation. Now all I want is for things to go back to the way they were. I want rid of this man. So my offer is this. You agree to free me from him, and I’ll tell you where the throne is.’ He looked levelly at Ben. ‘So, can you help me? Are you capable of this task?’

‘You mean, can I kill him?’

Claudel nodded uncomfortably.

Ben paused. ‘Yes. I’ll make your problem go away, if you help me find what I’m looking for.’

Claudel’s face lit up. He suddenly looked five years younger. ‘We have an arrangement?’

‘Yes, we have an arrangement. Now, I don’t have time to waste. Where’s the throne?’

‘In the private collection of a certain Sam Sheridan. Have you come across that name?’

‘No, I haven’t. Who is he, and where do I find him?’

‘He’s easy enough to find,’ Claudel said. ‘He’s the US Ambassador in Cairo. He’s also a millionaire and a passionate collector of artefacts from all over the ancient world.’

‘How can you be so certain he has the throne?’

‘Because I’ve seen it there. His collection is housed within his private apartment at the Embassy. And I happen to know that he’s throwing a big party tonight. It would be a perfect opportunity.’

‘Sounds as if you know this Sheridan pretty well,’ Ben said. ‘I think you should pick up the phone right now and get us all invited over to the Embassy party.’

Claudel shook his head ruefully. ‘I didn’t say I knew him well. I knew his wife very well. A little too well, perhaps. That’s why I could never go there to introduce you to Sheridan. He was the one who caught us. You might say I’m persona non grata in that household.’

‘I don’t care,’ Ben said. ‘I’m going to that party.’

‘How?’ Kirby asked, looking perturbed. ‘Surely not even you would just walk into an Embassy party as an uninvited stranger and demand to inspect a priceless throne.’

‘That’s exactly what I’m going to do,’ Ben said. ‘I’m going to walk right in the front door. But I won’t be asking anyone’s permission for anything.’

‘You’re crazy,’ Kirby said. ‘Raving. Delusional. How the hell do you think you can get in there? There’ll be massive security all over the place.’

‘That’s the whole idea.’ Ben turned to Claudel. ‘Can you provide me with a plan of the building?’

‘I know exactly where you need to go,’ Claudel replied. ‘I’ve sneaked up the backstairs to visit Eloise Sheridan often enough to know my way around the place.’

‘Excellent. Now, here’s what we’re going to do. Kirby, you stay here with Claudel. I have a couple of things to take care of.’

‘Things?’ asked Kirby, cocking an eyebrow.

‘Things you don’t need to know about. But first, I want to visit the wine cellar.’

Claudel looked mystified. ‘Why? You want some wine?’

‘You have very good wine, Pierre,’ Ben said. ‘But I’m more interested in PP- 01.’

Garden City, Cairo

That evening

At one time in Cairo’s not-so-distant past, the quiet, leafy district just south of the city centre had been the urban playground of the Egyptian social aristocracy; now it was the high-security home of the British and US Embassies, the American University and several luxury hotels. It was just after seven-thirty when Ben and Kirby walked out of the lobby of the Nile Hilton, both wearing black tuxedos. Ben’s was an expensive item on loan from Claudel’s own wardrobe, and it fitted perfectly. Kirby’s had been a last-minute rental.

‘I feel awkward in this thing,’ he complained as they walked down the tree-lined street. ‘My body’s the wrong shape, or something. Do I look OK?’

‘You look like a dosser who just broke into an Armani boutique. But don’t worry about it. Nobody’s going to care.’

‘That’s just great.’

A Rolls-Royce purred by, perhaps delivering guests to the Embassy party, quickly followed by a Bentley

‘Capitalist bastards,’ Kirby muttered.

‘Coming from a Laird’s son hunting for a billion-dollar treasure.’

Kirby ignored that. ‘And I’ll tell you something else. The tux isn’t all that’s making me uncomfortable. This party thing is a really, really bad idea. You still haven’t told me how the hell you plan to get us in there.’

Ben didn’t reply. They were drawing closer to the US Embassy building. Floodlit against the darkening sky, it was a fine, imposing post-colonial mansion standing on the corner of two adjoining streets, surrounded by tall iron gates and overlooked by a mass of surveillance cameras. Palm trees threw long shadows in its elegant gardens, and the Stars and Stripes waved gently in the evening breeze.

Outside the grand entrance, US Marines stood to attention with rifles. At the front of the gated grounds, guests in evening wear were stepping out of their cars and limousines and showing their invitations to armed security personnel.

Ben and Kirby were just a few yards from the gates.

‘Keep it natural,’ Ben said. ‘Calm down.’

‘No way they’re going to let us in,’ Kirby mumbled. ‘Not a chance in a million.’

Ben glanced up the street that flanked the side of the Embassy grounds. It was empty apart from a white Peugeot parked in the shade of a tree. A two-man security team were standing next to the car, looking through the windows, letting their sniffer dog wander around it to hunt out any suspicious scents.

‘See how tight security is?’ Kirby asked irritably as they joined the throng of people at the gates. A laughing woman in a low-cut evening dress brushed by him, and he followed her with his gaze.

Ben didn’t reply. He watched as the dog returned to its handler and the security team gave up on the Peugeot and moved away. They started walking back towards the corner, into the glow of the floodlights. Ten yards, fifteen, twenty.