‘Quoting the psalm.’

‘Not even a little bit.’

‘Just like you, then,’ she snapped. ‘Not helping even a little bit.’

Nevertheless, she selected a stout piece of wood that might have belonged to the broken chair in the corner, edged her way towards the door and, heart racing, cracked another lightstick.

Nothing happened. No unearthly screams . . . no supernatural entities . . .

‘Just the long, dark silence of the tomb,’ said Luke cheerily in her ear.

‘Parrish, I promise you, if I survive this – you won’t.’

But her heart was slowing. She was alone in the tomb. Apart from the owner/occupier, of course.

The burial chamber was some three feet lower than the room in which she currently stood. The smells of mushrooms and burning were stronger in here. In contrast to the rest of the tomb, this room had been decorated. The smooth walls glowed a soft golden yellow. Painted figures posed formally in a kind of frieze around the walls. The scenes denoted the passage of the pharaoh to the afterlife, she assumed. The fourth wall seemed to be divided into squares, each one containing what looked like a blue baboon. Which no doubt meant something to someone. Again, the thieves had been in here. A couple of broken necklaces lay on the floor.

‘From the lack of screaming, I gather the chamber’s empty,’ said Luke in her ear.

‘I don’t scream,’ she said with dignity.

‘I wasn’t talking about you.’

‘Yes, you’re right. It’s completely empty.’

‘God, I hope not . . .’

‘Well, yes, apart from the dead pharaoh and his great golden shrine, of course. It’s massive, Luke. I never before realised how big it is. It fills the room. I’ve no idea how they would have got it in here. It looks as if they had to knock part of the wall away. It’s amazing. Absolutely amazing.’

‘I know. I’ve seen it.’

‘When?’

‘Oh, either about six or seven years ago now – or about three and a half thousand years in the future – you choose.’

‘I thought they’d closed all the tombs to the public after those terror attacks ten years ago.’

‘Private viewing,’ he said briefly.

The lightstick burned steadily, illuminating everything around her. She tried to relax, flexing her shoulders to ease the strain. She was conscious of her sweat-soaked T-shirt under her vest. But her job was done. The tomb was empty. She was alone. All she had to do now was sit and wait until everyone came back.

With one last look at the exquisite paintings, she moved back into the antechamber and found a clear space where she could rest comfortably against a wall. Somehow, the idea of using one of the many pieces of furniture didn’t seem right – and from here she could keep all the other doors in sight.

‘What about the treasury?’ said Luke.

The old, cold sickness came back. She’d relaxed too soon. ‘The what?’