When he learned Tutankhamen was real…
… he started to trust the archaeologist.
But was Lord Carnarvon prepared for an ancient curse?
Carnarvon has three problems, a weak heart, the angry excavator Howard Carter, and dwindling funds.
There are occult forces at work.
He and Carter must learn to fight their powers.
What they didn’t expect was the media. With the curse of an ancient pharaoh still lying in his tomb the pair must find a team to remove the gold before it’s too late.
Literary Titan Book Award Winner in Historical Fiction (Pre-500 B.C.).
Reviews
Indiana Jones get out of the way.
Wow, what an adventure. Loved the writing style which takes the reader from scene to scene on a cinema graphic journey. Looking forward to the movie!!!
Julia Samupo – Goodreads
Loved it
A book about the men behind the discovery of my favourite pharaoh, Tutankhamun.
Amazon Review
Excerpt
“The Tutankhamen Friendship”
The drawing room was cold. Sipping his water nervously, the earl fitted a cigarette into his filter. Clad in striped grey flannel Carter filled his chair with the ease and presence of a man of the world. It was the moment they both dreaded.
“As you know, Howard, we have been excavating together for over a decade.”
While Carnarvon droned on Carter’s heart hammered against his new white shirt. Under his waistcoat the pocket watch grew hot. His polka dot bow tie cut his throat. Suddenly, the archaeologist realised he could not hear a thing. Finally, Carnarvon stopped. His blue eyes were fixed on his employee. With amazing ease Carter unraveled his map. Pointing to the grid he listed their successes. It was a mistake. In three minutes Carter had produced the reason not to go on as all the finds were well short of an intact tomb.
“Dear chap,” Carnarvon said gently. “Let it go.”
Carter’s brain fizzed. The thudding hooves, whirling casinos, the lord’s love of cards fused together. Clearing his throat he plunged in.
“With your permission, I am prepared to finance a final season myself. Naturally, under the terms of the concession, the proceedings will be divided equally.”
Stunned, the earl did not reply. His friend was an antiques dealer. He had shareholdings. The price of an excavation season was not prohibitive, especially if it was the last. Carter sensed his lordship computing the figures and gave his most charming smile. Carnarvon’s eyes narrowed. He briefly considered the Met. But it was the dapper man across from him, the man with whom he had shared a friendship for over a decade, he now contemplated. Deeply moved, he finally lit his cigarette. Business sense wrestled with the earl’s love of an on-the-nose bet.
“I couldn’t possibly allow you to pay, dear chap. You’re on,” he heard himself say. “One more season.”
