The first thing she noticed was that the floor level was lower in this chamber. The second thing was that it was as disordered as the first. There was more furniture, more baskets – some still closed, others not – models of long, elegant structures she took to be boats, and everywhere, little wooden figures. She’d read about these at school. They were called shabtis. Servants whose purpose was to serve the pharaoh in the underworld. They lay everywhere, torn from their original positions and just dropped. Their reproachful eyes stared up at her. She could see wine jars, wooden chests and everywhere, the glint of gold.

Wonder competed with terror. She remembered that only a handful of people had seen what she was seeing now. The next person to lay eyes on these marvels would be Howard Carter, three thousand years in the future.

Words would not come. ‘Wow. Luke. Oh . . . just . . . wow.’

‘What can you see?’ said Luke, sounding anxious.

‘Wonderful things.’

‘Very funny.’

Other than a mountain of priceless clutter, however, the room was empty. No robbers remained in the annex.

Taking a deep breath, she withdrew her head, wriggled back into the antechamber and consulted her visor. ‘I’m going to try the burial chamber now.’

She left the lightstick propped up in the hole, wiped her clammy hands on her trousers and pulled out another. Again, she picked her way across the cluttered floor. Something crunched beneath her feet and she winced. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’

Quietly and cautiously, she approached the opening to the burial chamber. A carved wooden cat observed her every move. She said, ‘Stop that,’ quite severely, but it continued its unblinking stare, watching her cross the room.

The lightsticks were doing their job, giving off a steady glow, and she could only conclude that the way her black shadow appeared to be jumping around the chamber was due to her own nerves.

She was half-expecting Luke to say that if any illegals still remained then the burial chamber was where they would be, tearing the shrines apart and ripping off the golden death masks, but his next remark was surprisingly helpful.

‘Remember, Jane, don’t stick your head through until you’re certain it’s empty and then if anything moves – shoot it.’

‘I’m unarmed – remember?’

‘Look around you, Lockland, you numpty. Find something heavy – gold is good – and then fetch them a wallop if they try anything.’

‘I suppose that will work for humans, but what if it isn’t?’

‘Isn’t what?’

She swallowed. ‘Human.’

‘Not sure I can help you there. You could try reciting that psalm. You know. You will not fear the terror of the night or the arrow that flies by day . . .’

Well, that was surprising, coming from Luke Parrish, of all people.

‘How do you know that?’

‘Birgitte taught me.’

‘Is Birgitte that blonde from Logistics?’

‘Can we talk about this another time?’

‘You really think that would help?’

‘Would what help?’