The Egyptian

Cover The Egyptian
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Genres: Fiction
A late spring chill gripped Prague, and he was thankful he had worn his gloves and hat.
He enjoyed a good nighttime stroll. He also enjoyed these rare moments of solitude in Stare Mesto, Prague’s old city. The madness of summer had not yet begun, and this street was tucked into a quiet cul-de-sac, off the tourist grid.
The Egyptologist in Cairo was unreachable over the weekend. Viktor had a few personal matters to take care of in the meantime, including this meeting, which was both personal and
... professional.
He stopped in front of a wooden doorway, splintered with age and studded with brass nails. A gaslight lantern flickered above a sign. The name of the establishment had been painted on the sign in a red scrawl, below a carving of wheat growing out of a skull.
The Drunken Mage.
Viktor pulled on the iron-ring handle. The tavern, which had opened its doors more than three hundred years ago, had been the informal meeting place of The Guild since its founding.
He passed a common room filled with shadows and long low tables.
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