 Harper Children's Audio presents Jake Ransom and the Howling Sphinx by James Rawlins performed by Pedro Pascal, prologue, Valley of the Kings. No man could survive such a storm for long. Clouds of red sand blasted out of the Sahara Desert and swept across Egypt. The storm darkened the sun and grew so vast that it could be seen from orbiting satellites. And it was no better on the ground. For those unlucky enough to be caught in the storm, the winds scoured any exposed skin like coarse sandpaper. But the old man had been summoned and knew he had to obey. Professor Nisorkori was a senior curator of the Cairo Museum and the leading expert on the Old Kingdom of Egypt. The curator hunched against the stinging sand. His sun-leathered face was covered by a scarf, his eyes hidden behind goggles. As he hiked through the Valley of the Kings, he could barely see past his own nose, but he knew the way. Every Egyptian scholar did. Egyptian pharaohs had been buried in this maze of limestone hills and sandy gullies for millennia, including the famous boy king Tutankhamen. But Nisorkori's destination lay much farther out, beyond where most archaeologists searched. He fought the storm, moving deeper down the valley toward a new excavation. To anyone looking, it appeared to be nothing more than a well-being dug, a project to help bring water to the parched land, permits, uniforms and equipment all bore a black griffin, the familiar logo of the company that funded this excavation. Bledsworth Sundries and Industries Incorporated The corporation financed many such charitable enterprises throughout the region, but Nisorkori knew the true goal of this particular project and had been paid well to keep it secret, and now he had been summoned. Had the corporation found what it sought? Surely that was impossible. Despite the hot breath of the sandstorm, Nisorkori shivered as he reached the dig site. All the laborers had fled the storm, leaving the place dark and empty. Nisorkori crossed a maze of abandoned mining gear and piles of work gear to reach the hole in the hillside, framed by timber and sealed with a steel door. He punched a code into a security keypad and the door swung open. He hesitated at the threshold. Even with the storm howling at his back, he balked at entering the tunnel. The passageway dove steeply downward, lit by flaming torches set into notches in the walls. Swallowing back his fear, Nisorkori ducked inside. A gust of wind sucked the door closed behind him with a loud clang. Startled, he hurried forward. The quicker I'm done here, the sooner I can get home. As the way led deeper, the walls changed from raw limestone to stone blocks. Ancient steps appeared and led downward yet again, deeper and deeper. Nisorkori kept to the torch-lit path as the walls squeezed tighter on either side as if trying to push him back, but he had no choice. With sweat trickling down his back, he had to keep going. At last, the tunnel emptied into a cavernous space. It was a vast, domed chamber. The walls scryed with hieroglyphs. Other passageways led out from the room, but Nisorkori's eyes were drawn to the black statues that lined the walls. They were perfect renditions of ancient Egyptian warriors dating back to the Old Kingdom. Each man was unique in shape and size, but they all had one feature in common. Their faces were masks of terror. Their horrified gaze is all focused on the head of a stone serpent in the center of the room. It stood as tall as Nisorkori. From the flare of the hood behind its head, it was plainly meant to be a cobra. But this cobra had three eyes. Two carved out of limestone and a third that rested atop its skull. This last one reflected the firelight glowing blood red. It was a fist-sized gem cut into the shape of an oval orb. Nisorkori approached in disbelief. A harsh voice stopped him. It came from the tunnel on the far side of the cavern. The speaker remained hidden in the shadows. Only his words scratched out of the darkness. You know what it is. Nisorkori recognized that voice. It had summoned him to the secret meeting. The voice came from the man who had bought Nisorkori silence by paying for his dying wife's medical treatment. The money had saved her life. Sample complete. Ready to continue?