Death in Luxor

by Graham Warren

  Quentin, as it turned out, was well aware that Napoleon was in the hotel with his wife and son. He had known from the day they arrived. He also revealed that he had serious doubts about the legality of the dig he was on. They had found nothing and appeared to be making a tunnel, rather than excavating one. No mention of ancients were made, though a look shared between Kate and Alex said ‘decoy’.

  The various conversations eventually reached a natural halt. It was then that everyone became aware of being very tired, though this should have been no surprise. It was by that time after two in the morning. Kate, however, brought everyone back to being fully alert, as she blurted out, “Napoleon is building a new tomb, but he is going to claim it as a new ancient discovery.”

  “What!”

  “You heard, Dad. Napoleon is making a replica tomb which he is going to pass off as the discovery of an ancient tomb. And he will get away with it, as nobody will be able to challenge him.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Quentin said as he rubbed his chin. “He had to be up to something. I checked the lists of authorised digs and neither his name nor mine appear on any of them.” Quentin paused only slightly as he turned his back to them all, to stare out of the room window. Then, with his focus firmly on the brightest star in the sky, he said in a low, almost sad tone. “There is not, for that matter, any dig permit issued anywhere close to the area I am working in. I only had this confirmed to me this morning, no … yesterday morning now.” Nobody spoke, they all stood there staring at Quentin’s back. He then spun around and asked in a much more assertive voice, “Where is Napoleon working, and how do you know of this?”

  Between Kate and Alex they explained, a little hesitantly at times, that they had been trying to find out where his dig was. Whilst doing so they had come across Napoleon and his false tomb almost by accident. Not totally true, but even now, as they sat at the Ramesseum Café, Kate was unsure that she had done the right thing by mentioning it at all. Alex, after his initial shock of her blurting it out, was happy that his dad knew of the false tomb, without knowing of the ancients.

  Therefore, they were sitting in the Ramesseum Café, bleary eyed, but ready to force Napoleon to leave Egypt. Alex had told them of his plan, Kate had added in a few changes, which had actually improved upon it, and to everyone’s surprise both Quentin and Babs had agreed to it.

  A large black car, much too grand and far too shiny for Luxor, pulled up on the road above them. Quentin and Babs got up, wished Alex, Kate and Cairo well. They also told them in no uncertain terms to be careful, that they loved them, and would see them all back at the hotel later. This was followed by the general platitudes that parents gave so freely, especially when other things were on their minds, such as telling the men in suits that it was over, no more digging, no more Quentin.

  “Your parents love me,” said Cairo excitedly.

  “Yes, and they also love their dog.”

  “We don’t have a dog, Kate!”

  “You know what I mean, Alex,” she replied with attitude. Seeing the now sad look on Cairo’s face, she failed to understand why she had been so nasty. It served no purpose. She was overtired, but they all were. She was also worried about today, but they all were. Kate hugged Cairo as she said, “What’s there not to love about you.” His beam returned.

  “I don’t think for one moment that my parents would be happy, if you had told them the truth.”

  “For your information, Alex, I did tell the truth!”

  “Yes … okay … I obviously missed the part where you told them about an ancient warlock trying to make himself into a pharaoh. Oh, and when exactly, did you tell them that this warlock wanted us dead? Oh, you didn’t! I’m pretty sure that they would have felt differently about today if you had.”

  “That’s why I didn’t tell them, and anyway, I didn’t hear you filling in the bits that I left out.”

  “True! I cannot argue with that.” After checking the time on his mobile phone, he made Kate and Cairo aware that events had been set in motion which they were now powerless to stop. “I shall go and change.”

  “You never told your parents about this part of the plan either,” called out Kate as he headed off to the toilets.

  “True!” he replied, without turning to look back.

  “What next, young Madam?”

  “I thought I had broken you of that. The name is Kate.”

  “Sorry, I just scared … a bit.”

  “Well, if everything goes to plan, it will all be over in time for us meet up with Ramses as arranged, then be back at the hotel in time to have dinner with Alex’s mum and dad.” This excited Cairo, as he had been invited to join them at dinner. Hearing her own words had exactly the opposite effect on Kate. She was unable to think of a time when anything had ever gone according to plan.

  “Well, that Ramolino woman should be on her way to the workers village now, possibly with that nose picking son of hers. Do you know what their names are?”

  Cairo looked blankly at Kate before saying, “Their name Ramolino, you just told me.”

  “No, Cairo, their first names.” It was obvious from the look on his face that he did not have the faintest idea what their names were. Kate ran over to the toilets, stuck her head through an open window and asked Alex. The reply was initially a scream, followed by a very strong, “Go away, go away now!”

  Kate was still chuckling to herself as Alex returned to their now cleared table. When she saw him approach, she stopped immediately, as unlike his adoptive father, whose light skin tone and Camel boots made him look rather silly when dressed as a local Egyptian, Alex really looked the part. His galabeya, headscarf and flip-flops, when combined with his dark skin, gave him the perfect look. “He is every bit an Egyptian,” thought Kate, “this may work after all.”

  Alex then tried out his phony Egyptian accent.

  Simultaneously Kate and Cairo thought, “We are going to die.”

  With time flying, they left the Ramesseum Café at a pace, Cairo heading off to their left, as they set off for the Greek temple at the end of the workers village.

  Lifting his galabeya as he ran, anyone seeing him would know that he was not Egyptian. Kate chided Alex for running like a girl. He replied that it did not matter what anybody thought here, all he had to do was to be in the tomb before Napoleon’s wife arrived. As it turned out, he could not remember her first name either.

  Alex’s plan to get rid of Napoleon was basically quite straight forward. His wife was to receive a message whilst she was still in their room, though well after Napoleon had left. It was a simple, though most effective message, rather like an old-fashioned telegram. It read, ‘So much gold, amazing. You must come now, taxi waiting outside’. Just eleven words, but they had had the desired effect, as whilst changing, Alex had received a missed call from Three, the signal that she was on her way. He had then received a second missed call, the signal to say that she was coming with her son.

  Now everything relied on her honesty, about which none of them had any reason to doubt. A quick Google, and they had been convinced that she would do nothing that may bring disrepute upon her father or his museums. Alex would be inside the false tomb by the time she arrived, using the same code as before to gain entry.

  Cairo would guide her and her son from the workers village car park to the entrance of the false tomb. Using the same key code – which Alex had written on the palm of Cairo’s hand as a precaution – he would make sure they went in. She would then see with her own eyes just what a con-artist Napoleon was. Their expectation was that she would storm out and immediately phone her father, before leaving the country and taking her money and son with her, thereby bringing everything to a close. Napoleon would be forced to stop what he was doing, having been exposed for the fraud he was.

  Alex realised that it might not happen quite like this. He had gone through many different scenarios, before reaching his conclusion. “However this pans out, the Napoleons will have to leave Egypt very quic
kly and leave this false tomb behind them,” he thought as he stood beside the ‘broom cupboard’.

  Sliding the mud brick sideways, Alex keyed in the number. Much to his relief it had not been changed. He was inside and through to the middle chamber, where they had previously met up with Kate, in less than a minute. On hearing raised voices from the chamber ahead, the chamber with the food mixers, Alex decided to stay where he was.

  He felt guilty that he had not said goodbye to Kate. He had been angry with her over the ‘running like a girl’ comment. After insisting that they must run quicker, it had been okay for her to stop and chat to some lad on the way. He thought that he had been rather childish and would apologise later, when he felt something that Kate had shoved in his galabeya pocket. On getting it out, the it turned into them, as he was looking at ten or more cards printed with hand signals for the deaf.

  “Clever Kate,” he thought, and not for the first time. She had obviously bought these from the lad on the way so that he would not have to speak to anyone with his terrible Egyptian accent. He now felt even worse about how he had treated her because she was correct, he did run like a girl. Sports were something that he could completely do without in his life, on television or anywhere. He would rather have a book any day.

  His thoughts were broken as an Egyptian, who came from the far chamber, shouted at him something completely unintelligible. Immediately he thrust a card at the man who pushed it away before motioning for him to go and sweep the floor. Alex did as he was told. Once inside the far chamber – the false tomb – he could clearly see what all the shouting had been about. A whole section of new hieroglyphic wall was on the floor in a million pieces.

  Grabbing a broom and a wheelbarrow, Alex worked quite slowly, with his head bowed, as he watched out of the corner of his eye what was going on. He was truly invisible. Not one person paid him the slightest attention. If only they knew how soon all of this would be brought to an end, they would not be shouting at each other now. “You are history, Napoleon, which is more than this tomb is,” thought Alex. He tried not to smile too much.

  Cairo had met Mrs Ramolino and her son at the workers village car park. He had hurriedly escorted them to the ‘broom cupboard’ where for the fifth or sixth time he attempted to key in the numbers. His nerves were getting the better of him.

  Kate, who was watching from the little Greek temple, was willing him to step back, calm down, and then key the numbers in slowly.

  Mrs Ramolino, in a sudden change of attitude, pushed Cairo to one side so hard that he almost fell over. She hit the keys, opened the door, then flipped the switch which caused the cleaning equipment to instantly disappear. Cairo was incredibly relieved as they headed into the false tomb.

  Kate, on the other hand, was horrified. She could see Alex’s plan failing dismally. “If she doesn’t know what’s going on, how could she know the combination?” Kate asked herself over and over. She failed to come up with any other answer than Mrs Ramolino must be party to everything that was going on. Alex and Cairo were in danger, real danger. Without her mobile phone, she had no way of calling for help, and if she did have one, there was no way to let Alex know: no mobile phone signal could penetrate the Theban Hills.

  Kate’s mind was in overdrive, so much so that she sat, almost fell to the ground, as she held her head in her hands. She felt as though it was going to explode. There was a definite clash of ancient and modern thoughts taking place. Her head was heating up, not only outside, but inside. Suddenly an arm went around her waist, at the same time as a cloth was placed firmly over her nose and mouth. Everything turned black.

  Kate opened her eyes. She could not immediately work out where she was. Everything was blurry and far too bright, yet it was nowhere near hot enough for her to be outside. She could make out voices, yet like her vision these too were unclear.

  Kate heard voices again, though now these were coming from a different direction, they came from her right, yet a split second ago the same fuzzy voices had been directly in front of her.

  Now the voices were again directly in front of her. She came to the realisation that she must be drifting in and out of consciousness. Kate thought she must be dreaming. She was sure that she could hear Aggie’s voice, yet with her vision and hearing quickly being restored to her, she could see that she was in a tomb, the false tomb. She could still hear Aggie’s voice, yet she could not see her, so putting a hand down to push herself up above the tables and machinery which were blocking her view, she tried to stand. She failed, collapsing back to the floor.

  “The little bitch is coming around,” Kate heard Aggie say, “would you like me to slap her?”

  “Not yet, Agnes, there will be time for that later.”

  “Oh please, Victoria, she so needs a good slapping. It would make me feel so much better.”

  “Come and finish your gin and tonic, Agnes,” were the last words Kate heard, but at least she now remembered that Mrs Ramolino was called Victoria.

  This time Kate came around feeling more like her old self. Before making any attempt to move, she very slightly opened her eyes to scan what was around her. Any thought of being quiet left her as she saw the obviously dead Napoleon beside her.

  “Welcome back to the land of the living, if only temporarily,” said Victoria Ramolino as she leaned over the table in front of Kate. “Oh, you like my handy work, do you,” she said with no sign of an American accent, as she looked at Napoleon. “I tried to turn him into a pretzel. He broke before I had finished. Not my best work, but then again, he was not the best person.” She gave the laugh of a witch before looking directly into Kate’s eyes. “Sorry, I have always wanted to do a wicked laugh, and it just seemed so appropriate. We are in high spirits. Our magician, or warlock, as you like to call him, is about to become a pharaoh and there is nothing that you or anyone can do to stop it.” She said this with added menace in her voice. “With you dead it will be easy to get rid of the others. We will not even need to bother with this stupid tomb. You really have been a most useful distraction. That useless fool Merenptah fell for everything hook, line and sinker. If he had half the brains of his father, we would have failed.”

  There was a slight pause, a hesitation, after she said ‘father’, as if there was something between her and Ramses, something more than just friendship. Alarm bells went off in Kate’s head and suddenly, as was so often the case since she had arrived in Egypt, many things fell into place. Victoria moved away, thinking that Kate had passed out again. She had not, her brain was joining many pieces of a very complicated puzzle, though not all the pieces had gone into their right places.

  “I am Julian,” Kate heard whispered in her right ear. Turning her head slightly and opening an eye, she saw an arm in a sling and a bandaged nose, however, the straws had gone. It was the son of Napoleon and Victoria Ramolino.

  “I’m Kate. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Of course he doesn’t, he’s as useless as you are,” bellowed Aggie, who was obviously close, though out of sight. One of the men in suits got hold of Kate. He dragged her into the middle of the burial chamber where he made her stand. The other man in a suite brought Julian to stand beside her.

  “We are leaving now,” said Victoria. “I do wonder what archaeologists will make of this tomb when it is discovered … long after you are all dead.”

  Kate could now see that nearly all the furniture, the computers and even the extremely oversized food mixers had gone. Two Egyptian workers came in to remove the table which had previously obscured her view. It appeared to be the last item to leave the tomb. Kate’s heart missed a beat when she saw that one of the workers was Alex. There was a chance that they could be saved.

  “I don’t understand,” said Kate quite genuinely. Having worked out the overall picture of what was going on, she could not see how someone such as Victoria Ramolino was involved, or how she knew Aggie. Kate just had to ask, “How does Aggie fit into all of this?”

  “Now, Kate, a
ll you need to know is that you are going to die. Why would I stand here and explain that Agnes’s excessive alcohol intake made her mind so weak that she was easy to control? That we exploited this weakness? Why do you think that she took you to the British Museum when you were at your most receptive to your ancient memories?

  “Did you not ever wonder why, when you had travelled all the way from Yorkshire, with your best friend Alex living just around the corner from the British Museum, Agnes would not let you see him? We obviously could not have him at the museum on that day, or you might have both woken your ancient past. Now, that would have been problematic.” Victoria was saying all this with a smirk on her face.

  Aggie did nothing more than stand there in her whites, with her little umbrella in one hand and what appeared to be a fresh gin and tonic in the other.

  “Or perhaps you want me to explain,” continued Victoria, “just what our magician, your warlock, has planned, so that you can make your escape in the best tradition of bad drama. Why would I tell you that he has his own tomb, with his own artefacts, just waiting to be discovered by me, once you meddlers are out of the way? That would be really silly of me now, wouldn’t it?”

  “You will not get away with this,” shouted Kate.

  “Oh, perfectly played, bravo. The exact words of a cheesy soap opera. I really am having such a good day.”

  Alex appeared from the exit tunnel at full run, brandishing a spade and shouting, “Die.” The very next second he was smashed against a wall, where he slid to the floor, showing no sign of life. Victoria had only moved her hand, though her smirk had gone. She looked in horror at her now blackened and smoking fingernails.

  Kate was screaming. She was desperate to go over to Alex. One of the men in suits easily restrained her.

  “I’ll tell you something, Kate. I thought I was going to really enjoy that, however, rather sadly, it failed to live up to my expectations. Honestly, I had expected Alex to try and leave with us, thinking that he could then go for help. With that lovely empty well so close, I could have savoured his screams as he fell. It would have made getting rid of him so much more fun.