by Adam Palmer
Walid switched to Arabic. ‘Have you solved your problems?’
Daniel hesitated. Walid was trustworthy, but Daniel wasn’t sure how ongoing the duty of silence was. Technically he was no longer in Walid’s ‘tent’.
‘I need to get to Taba,’ Daniel explained.
‘You can go by bus across Sinai,’ Walid explained. ‘Or you can fly to Sharm and then drive north from there. Or you can even drive from here. But it is a long journey.’
Daniel wasn’t worried about the length of the trip, only about the prospect of having to show documentation when he hired a car.
‘We need to get there quietly… without anyone noticing.’
He was about to say that he and Gabrielle had lost their passports, but he didn’t want to lie to Walid again. It would be dishonourable, and honour was a very important thing in local culture.
‘We can’t hire a car, because we daren’t identify ourselves. It could lead to problems. But if you know someone who can drive us… we are ready to pay good money.’
Walid thought for a few seconds. ‘I do not know anyone who can drive you, but I know a group of Bedouin who are going that way on camels.’
Chapter 56
‘Passport, please,’ said the Egyptian soldier.
The checkpoint was at the entrance to the Ahmed Hamdi Tunnel, just north of Suez. The mile-long, two-lane tunnel would take them under the Suez Canal into Sinai. But first, the pair of soldiers who had boarded the night bus had to earn their keep. Like the threesome who had searched the bus at the earlier checkpoint, they walked up and down, selecting a few people at random for an ID check. This time, however, Sarit just happened to be one of them.
For locals all they had to produce was an ID card, but for tourists it meant a passport. This might have been worrying, but the fact that it was random meant that they were not looking for Sarit in particular. And the fact that they didn’t have any computer terminal for checking meant that they could only check the passport against the face, not against background information such as a report about a wanted person or a lost passport. But then again, this was only an inland checkpoint, not border control.
She wasn’t too worried about getting to Taba. The hard part would be when she had to cross the border into Israel. She knew that the passport would pass a cursory inspection at least. In the old days it used to be easy to tamper with a passport to make it usable by prising open the plastic, taking out the photograph and carefully inserting a new one before resealing it. Even copying the quadra-circle of the ink stamp by hand with the felt tip was relatively straightforward to someone with a steady hand and a good eye for detail.
But now they had holograms, special sealing plastic and a whole host of other technologies designed to prevent tampering. However, Sarit attacked the problem from the other end, adapting her appearance to the passport. Most modern women know how to change their appearance in a variety of ways and Sarit’s training had augmented this ability considerably. Also, she had selected a target who was in her age range to begin with. Everything else could be changed: hair colour and style, skin tone, even eye colour. In a cosmopolitan city like Cairo, the wherewithal for such a metamorphosis was readily available.
Aside from that, most people don’t look anything like their passport picture and are not even expected to. And most of the border officials in Egypt were men – less perspicacious than women at the best of times and brought up in a culture where the very act of looking at women was discouraged!
So as the night bus sped its way across the Sinai Peninsula, Sarit tried to relax as the bus continued on its night-time drive.
When they arrived at Taba, just before dawn, the driver had done the usual trick of offering to take them the extra six hundred yards to the checkpoint into Israel, for a mere five Egyptian pounds. But like the others on the bus, Sarit had refused. She had no particular desire to be first. She was quite happy to be somewhere in the middle, so that the official who inspected her passport would be tired from the ones he had seen already and yet faced with many more in the queue behind her.
But when she got to her turn things did not go as smoothly as she expected.
‘Miss Harker?’ said the man studying her passport.
‘Yes?’
‘It says here that your passport was reported stolen yesterday.’
Chapter 57
Mid-April was towards the end of the tourist season, at least for the southern Nile and the Valley of the Kings. Strictly speaking it was the tourist season all year round, but in the Luxor area, until late September, it would simply be too hot for the Western tourists.
Yes, they would still come and they would still take cruises on the Nile, but they would go with the luxury, air-conditioned vessels not the austere feluccas. Na’if’s father had been lucky to get that job – carrying that Western couple from the Esna Lock to Cairo. Normally the tourists just wanted a two-hour fun trip to get their feet wet, so to speak.
But now with the tourist season nearly over, it would be back to fishing. So now it was Na’if’s duty to clean out the boat and get it ready for a fishing voyage. He always hated this time of year. The tourist season was so much more fun. Not just because the money was better, but also because there was more to do. The tourists were always interesting people to talk to. They came from other lands where they did things differently and it was always fun to hear about foreign lands, and especially to meet the Western girls who showed their bodies in the way they dressed.
He wanted one day to go to the West. Maybe to study in one of their universities or colleges. He had heard that in the West you could study to be a reporter for a newspaper or learn how to play football like David Beckham. It would be nice to do that. If only his father had the money to send him.
It was while he was cleaning out the boat that he noticed something that must have fallen out of one of their pockets. It was a mobile phone, one of those big ones with a fancy display. It belonged to the man – Daniel. He remembered that now. He had two phones, but he never used them. And now he had lost one of them.
It was too late to give it back to him because they had left the boat and could be anywhere in Cairo. Besides, Daniel had two mobile phones; he had seen that. So why did he need both? It wasn’t really stealing because he hadn’t taken it, but merely found it. And he couldn’t give it back to the owner because the owner wasn’t there.
There was no point handing it in to the police. They would never be able to find the owner. So why couldn’t he keep it for himself?
He made up his mind in that moment that this was precisely what he would do.
Chapter 58
‘I didn’t actually lose it,’ Sarit was explaining. ‘I just left it in my hotel room by mistake.’
‘But why didn’t you tell the police that you found it?’
Sarit was trying to convince the border official in Taba that it was all just a misunderstanding. But the border official was playing hardball.
‘I phoned the police and told them. But it was late at night when I discovered it and I couldn’t get through to the right person. They said they’d pass on a message.’
‘But you don’t know the name of the person you spoke to?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘What is the purpose of your visit to Israel?’
‘Sightseeing.’
It was normally the Israelis who were more suspicious, but it was understandable that the Egyptians were being cautious under the circumstances.
‘You don’t think it was a bit careless, leaving the passport in your hotel room and then wasting police time by telling them that it was missing?’
Sarit felt herself blushing. This was good. It would make her seem like an embarrassed, careless tourist.
‘I didn’t just forget it. It had actually fallen out of my bag in the hotel room and was down by the side of the bed. It was only when I searched really thoroughly that I found it. Look, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. What more can
I say?’
The official looked at her coldly. ‘We’ll have to check with the police in Cairo.’
It was then that Sarit began to worry.
Chapter 59
Daniel had initially assumed that Walid was a local Luxor man, because that was where he had boarded the felucca. But in fact he turned out to be a lot more well-connected than Daniel had imagined. He seemed to know everyone in Cairo, or at least everyone in the lower classes, from the waiters to the road-sweepers.
He also seemed to know quite a few of the Bedouin, including this group of five who were making their way across the Sinai Desert. Their original destination had apparently been Sharm el-Sheikh where they were going to ply their trade to the tourists, offering them camel rides.
But Mas’ud, the youngest member of the group, was planning on getting a job as a waiter in the hope of making his fortune or getting lucky with the younger female tourists. In some respects he was a bit like Na’if. When they were asked if they could change their plans and accompany the couple to Taba, he had been the first to point out that there were plenty of tourists there at this time of year, because it wasn’t quite as hot as Sharm. And he for his part was quite happy to try his chances there first instead of Sharm.
Of course, with or without a change of plan, escorting the pair to Taba was a service and therefore payment was due. This time Walid bargained on their behalf, promising them he would get them the best possible price. And so, 1,500 Egyptian pounds lighter, they set off on camels, with a five-man escort, from the fringes of Cairo to Taba, travelling when it was cooler, from sunrise till midday and then again from late afternoon till some time after sunset. They slept from late night till sunrise and rested – with or without sleep – from midday until the afternoon sun was low in the sky.
The Bedouin escort rode in formation with two in front of them, several yards ahead, and three a similar distance behind. The three behind were also leading four additional camels that followed by herd instinct without being tied or tethered. As Daniel and Gabrielle were also dressed in Bedouin robes (for an extra 100 Egyptian pounds), anyone in the military manning a checkpoint would have spotted a group of seven Bedouin with eleven camels and thought nothing more about it.
Being positioned in the middle gave Daniel and Gabrielle the opportunity to talk in private.
‘The Samaritans are basically concentrated in two communities. There’s an Arabic-speaking community in Kiryat Luza in the West Bank, and a Hebrew-speaking community in Holon, inside Israel.’
‘And which community are we going to visit? Kiryat Luza or Holon?’
‘Ideally Kiryat Luza. It’s actually located on Mount Gerizim, their sacred mountain, overlooking the town of Nablus. They used to be based in Nablus itself, but they fled to Kiryat Luza in the 1980s during the first intifada because they came under attack.’
‘Then wouldn’t it be safer to meet the ones in Holon?’
‘That’s probably what we’ll have to do initially. I think that most of their priests are in Kiryat Luza. But if we talk to one of their leaders in Holon, that can get us an introduction until we can meet the high priest and put our appeal to him.’
‘And you really think they’re going to show you their most sacred documents?’
‘If I can show them that I can translate them and reveal the sacred truths, then yes… I think they will.’
‘But how are we going to get across the border?’
Daniel lowered his voice. ‘I have a plan – but it’s risky.’
Neither of them noticed that in the group of three bringing up the rear, Mas’ud was taking an unhealthy interest in their conversation.
Chapter 60
Sarit had been sitting in the waiting area on the Egyptian side of the border between Taba and Eilat for the last twenty minutes. They had told her to step aside and wait there so they could process the others more quickly. That did not bode well. Firstly, it meant that they were not letting the queue behind her pressure them into making a snap decision. Secondly it meant that they were taking it a lot more seriously than she had expected. She thought they would simply treat her as a scatterbrained tourist and wave her through. Instead, they were alert to the possibility that she might indeed be a terrorist or at least a passport thief.
The one thing she still had going for her was that it was still early morning and so it was unlikely that the right person would be on duty. Anyone with access to the police computer could confirm that the passport had been reported stolen, but only one or two police officers would be in any position to contradict the claim that the passport had been found or that she was the rightful passport holder.
Sarit didn’t even know how long the real Kelly Harker would be staying in Cairo, suspecting that she was on some package tour and that was their ‘shopping afternoon’ in the bazaar. That meant she had probably by now been given some sort of temporary travel documents by the British Embassy and then whisked away with the rest of the group. Depending on the itinerary of the group she could be on a cruise boat on the Nile, climbing Jebel Musa (the traditional Mount Sinai), or flying down to Sharm for a few days of swimming and sunbathing.
If so, then it would not be easy for the police to contact her quickly. The most the officer in charge could say would be that he hadn’t been updated and the woman had carried on with her tour group. It was extremely unlikely that Sarit would be brought face to face with the woman she was impersonating, but it was touch and go whether she would be allowed through or detained until the matter was fully and finally resolved.
‘I have some good news for you, Miss Harker,’ said the border official. ‘We spoke to the officer in charge, and he said that he was the one who recommended you to look in your hotel room to make sure the passport hadn’t fallen out there. He is pleased that you followed his advice, even if you were too embarrassed to tell him.’
A beaming smile broke out across Sarit’s face. She couldn’t believe her luck. So less than a quarter of an hour later, Sarit was crossing into Israel. On the Israeli side of the border, they started grilling her on the purpose of her visit. She cut it short by telling them in Hebrew that she was not Kelly Harker but Sarit Shalev and asking them to contact Dovi Shamir at a number she gave them.
After a two-minute conversation between officials, she was taken aside to a private room where she was allowed to talk to Dovi herself.
‘I’ve got a lot to tell you,’ she said, demonstrating her penchant for understatement.
‘You had me worried,’ he replied. ‘I’ll send a chopper.’ He hesitated to add that he was still worried.
Chapter 61
‘Are you awake?’ asked Gabrielle.
It was night and the Bedouin were sleeping in what their patriarch had humorously described as a ‘thousand-star hotel’.
‘Yes,’ Daniel replied. ‘You?’
‘No, I’m talking in my sleep!’
Daniel and Gabrielle were supposed to be sleeping. They only had seven hours from their ten p.m stop to their pre-sunrise start. But they both had a lot on their minds, and sleep did not come easily to either of them.
‘Sorry, I’m not at my best at midnight.’
He turned in his sleeping bag to catch Gabrielle’s face. It was illuminated by the merest sliver of the moon crescent, giving her a strangely vulnerable look.
‘I was just wondering what Charlotte would think if she could see you now.’
‘What on earth made you think of that?’
‘It’s just that you… you seem to like roughing it. Those outings with your nephews… and that time we were on a dig together in Scotland.’
‘When you tried to come into my tent… yes, I remember. But what’s that got to do with Charlotte?’
‘Well, she was so spoiled and pampered, with all her creature comforts, and you’re the exact opposite. You like the outdoors, you spent six days on a felucca without complaining. Now we’re camped down here in the desert under the stars. Charlotte wouldn’t have lasted an
hour doing anything like this.’
‘She never really wanted to give it a try. It wasn’t her world.’
‘So why did you marry the bitch?’
‘Oo, miao.’
‘No seriously, Daniel. Why would you want to hook up with that scion of Pennsylvania aristocracy with an olive up her ass? Her ancestors would probably have blackballed yours if they’d applied to join the golf club. You’re so down-to-earth and family oriented. If you’d had children, you’d probably have fought over whether to keep them at home or send them to boarding school.’
‘I guess it’s lucky we didn’t.’
He felt a stab of regret as he said these words. Gabrielle’s probing questions brought back a flood of memories and endless speculations about what could have been.
‘Was that what led to the break-up?’
‘What?’
‘Children – or rather the lack of them. Were you a George and Martha couple?’
‘Not by choice.’
‘That’s what I mean. Neither were the original George and Martha. But the difference is that they both wanted children. Not having them was a source of mutual frustration and regret. I don’t think it was like that with Charlotte.’
‘Maybe I was the one who didn’t want kids?’
‘Are you pulling my leg? I’ve heard you talking about those camping trips with your nephews and impressing your nieces with magic tricks. I think I can read between the lines. You’ve got it in you to be a great father. Was that what set you apart? You regretted not having children: she was quite happy that way.’
‘That might have been part of it, but the real problem was that I could never fulfil her sense of ambition.’