Destination

by David Wood

  He relaxed his hold on Nora, but maintained a grip on her arm so they would not be separated, and then immediately began kicking back toward the surface. When he popped up a moment later, he spotted the boat, upside down, just a few yards away. One of the gunmen was thrashing in the water nearby, his hands empty, his weapon presumably now settling into the mud at the river’s bottom. Nora was treading water beside him, a little dazed, but apparently unhurt. There was no sign of Bones, but Maddock did not doubt that his friend, the only one of the boat’s occupants who had known what was about to happen, had bailed out and was even now, striking out for dry ground.

  The closest land, was about a hundred yards away, on the west bank. Maddock pointed toward it, and shouted, “There!” Then, with one hand still in contact with Nora, he leaned into the water and started swimming furiously.

  Once they were moving, Nora rallied and was soon swimming unaided. The approaching island seemed to energize her for a final push, and as their strokes brought them into the reeds lining the shore, she got her feet under her and half-ran, half-splashed through the muddy shallows. Maddock lingered a moment longer in the concealment afforded by the marsh, checking behind them to verify that Fayed’s men had not somehow gotten ahead of them to lay in ambush. He didn’t see the gunmen, but he did spot Bones, only about twenty yards away, likewise crawling through the grass.

  As he rose to his feet, he turned and looked out across the water. The capsized boat was drifting with the current, two bedraggled figures clinging to its upturned hull. A moment later, Maddock spotted the third man, thrashing ineffectually in an attempt to reach his comrades.

  Maddock breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Bones. “So that was your plan?”

  “Pretty much,” Bones replied, grinning. “Hey, it worked, right?”

  “I guess it did at that.” Maddock turned to take in their new surroundings, a gentle slope rising from the river, covered in a lush carpet of river grass and large-leafed palms that fully blocked their view of what lay to the west. “Any idea where we are?” he asked Nora.

  She nodded. “This is Gezira el-Mozh. Banana Island. The only way to come or go is by boat. I’m afraid there’s not much here.”

  Bones snorted. “You’re kidding. Leave it to Maddock to get us all stranded on a tropical island in the middle of the desert.”

  “Me?” Maddock protested. “You’re the one who capsized the boat, Gilligan.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well why don’t you figure out a way to get us out of here, Professor? Wait, having Professor here would actually be a good thing.” Pete Chapman, nicknamed “Professor,” was another of their old SEAL comrades, known for his nimble mind and breadth of knowledge.

  Maddock quirked an eyebrow at his friend, then turned back to Nora. “When you say ‘not much here...’?”

  “It’s a sort of nature preserve. Tourists sometimes come here to walk and pick bananas. There’s a small café and a menagerie. Just a few animals in cages.”

  “You said the only way here is by boat. Is there a regular ferry service?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Most people come over by felucca.”

  “Let’s get to the dock. Maybe we can find someone to give us a ride.” He searched the trees until he spotted what looked like a clearing, and started for it.

  “Shouldn’t we just call the police?” Nora said. “Let them know what Fayed is up to.”

  “A couple of foreigners accusing an upstanding local businessman of grave robbing and terrorism,” Bones countered. “I’m sure they’ll jump right on that.”

  “I think we might be the only ones who can stop him,” said Maddock.

  “But we don’t even know what his plan is.”

  “We’ll figure that out on the way.” He reached the clearing and saw that it was actually a path leading between the rows of banana trees. To his right, he had an unrestricted view going all the way to the north tip of the island, and there, bobbing in the water just off shore, was a small sailboat with a triangular sail—a felucca. “That should do the trick,” he said, and then broke into a run.

  They emerged from the path near a grassy area dotted with café tables. A few of the tables were occupied by sunburned tourists who goggled in disbelief at the bedraggled trio. Maddock paid no heed but continued past toward the water’s edge where several sailboats had been run up onto the shore. He didn’t see any crewman, which he decided was probably a good thing—they didn’t have time to explain their needs, nor the resources to make an offer that a poor Egyptian sailor would be unable to refuse. That left only one real option.

  “That one,” he called out, pointing toward an open, broad-beamed sailboat that was barely longer than the speedboat, and about half the length of the largest boat in the line. This was one instance where bigger definitely wasn’t better. As he reached the boat, he threw his shoulder against the prow, shoving it back out into the water, even as he shouted, “All aboard.”

  Beside him, Nora let out a gasp of disbelief. “Wait. We’re stealing it?”

  “Borrowing,” Bones replied. “I don’t think it will fit into our checked luggage when we fly home. Especially not with all of Maddock’s beauty products.” He then scooped her up in his arms and splashed out into the river, running alongside the craft until he was able to deposit her into its open cockpit, whereupon he immediately clambered aboard. Maddock, knowing that they would need all the momentum he could muster, kept pushing even after the boat was floating free. When he was waist deep in the river, he gave it one final shove and then threw himself flat in the water, swimming out to catch the drifting boat.

  A moment later, he heaved himself up onto the gunwale, and with an assist from Nora, managed to climb inside. Bones was already pulling on the line to raise the enormous offset triangle that was the felucca’s signature lateen sail, so Maddock crawled back to the rudder and, turned the boat toward the middle of the river, letting the current carry them away. Behind them, a small crowd was gathering on the shore, hurling angry shouts that carried across the water, but apparently none of them were willing to swim out after the stolen craft.

  “So, you guys are pirates, too?” Nora remarked.

  “We are now.” Maddock gave a half-hearted laugh, although he couldn’t tell if she meant it as a joke. Before he could answer, the sail gave an audible pop as it filled with wind. There was only a light breeze, blowing from the north against the current, but Bones, deftly maneuvered the boom, angling the sail into the wind, while Maddock used the rudder to steer toward the East Bank, tacking against the wind to keep them moving with the current, toward downtown Luxor.

  As Banana Island receded into the distance, Nora came back to join him. “You do realize that the people back there have probably already called the police,” she said, and this time, there was no mistaking her tone as humorous. “Which is what we should have done in the first place.”

  “Well, at least this way, we’ll get their attention,” Maddock replied. “But until that happens, we’ve got to focus on stopping Fayed.”

  “And how are you going to do that? We don’t even know exactly what his plan is.”

  Maddock couldn’t argue that point. “You said he owns a resort.”

  She nodded. “The Jawahrat al-Nayl.” She turned, scanning the East Bank downriver of their position, and then pointed. “It’s there.”

  Maddock couldn’t tell which of the enormous multi-storied buildings she was looking at, but the general area was only about half-a-mile away. They would be there in just a few minutes. “Maybe somebody there will be able to tell us where he is.”

  As the resort loomed closer, Bones turned the sail into the wind, slowing their approach while Maddock maneuvered the boat alongside the pier. He half expected to find a line of city police officers waiting to arrest them for hijacking the felucca, but it seemed to be business as usual on the riverfront.

  “Nice place,” Bones said, approvingly, as they entered the lavishly appointed lobby, which appeared to ha
ve been modeled after a Sultan’s palace. After so much time spent in the desert heat, the air conditioning was a welcome relief, if a little chilly. “This is where we were supposed to spend the night, isn’t it? You think they kept our reservation?”

  “Can’t hurt to ask,” Maddock said, and veered toward the reception desk.

  A long-polished wood counter separated the hotel’s employees—all of whom were male and attired in immaculate Navy-blue business suits—from the guest area. On the wall behind the men were large framed posters of happy people enjoying the various activities available to hotel residents—desert safaris, hot air balloon rides, excursions to the Red Sea shore for SCUBA diving and snorkeling—each bearing the legend in bold exciting script: “Book your adventure today!”

  One of the men, noticing their approach cast a disdainful eye at Nora. Maddock stepped in front of her, commanding the man’s attention as he closed the remaining distance. He leaned over the counter, palms placed flat on the surface, and in his best, command voice, barked, “We’re here to meet with Nassir Fayed.”

  The man snapped to attention at the mere mention of the name, but he quickly regained his supercilious demeanor. “And who are you?”

  His English was as impeccable as his suit.

  Bones now joined Maddock at the counter, leaning over it and towering above the clerk. “We’re from the Tourism Board. We’ve had several complaint of bedbugs at this establishement.” He spoke loud enough for everyone in the lobby to hear. “Nasty little bloodsuckers. We’ve received some disturbing reports, so we’ll need to conduct a snap inspection of your hotel. Every room. Shouldn’t take more than a couple days, but you’ll need to move your guests somewhere else until we’re done.” He paused a beat, and then added in a low, conspiratorial tone, “Unless of course, Mr. Fayed can convince us that there really isn’t a problem.”

  Maddock stifled a laugh as the man’s expression changed again. He recoiled a step, and then glanced nervously in the direction of his co-workers, all whom now seemed intensely interested in looking at their computer monitors. “I... Ah, let me get the maître d’.”

  “You do that,” Maddock said.

  As the man scurried away, exiting through a door behind the counter, Bones leaned close. “This is a waste of time. These guys won’t be in the loop.”

  “I know,” Maddock replied, already having reached the same conclusion. He stared at the back wall, an idea starting to form. “What’s the most effective way to disperse the mold spores? I mean for targeted effect.”

  Bones emitted a thoughtful rumble. “He probably doesn’t have access to artillery shells. A bomb would just destroy the toxins. Maybe he’s just going to drive around and fling buckets of the crap out the window?”

  “I think he’s a little smarter than that,” Maddock replied, still staring straight ahead. A moment later, the clerk emerged from the back office, accompanied by another man, this one wearing a black tuxedo. Both moved quickly to the counter, the man in the tuxedo already raising his hands in a placating gesture. Maddock cut him off with a wave.

  “We changed our minds,” he said. “We can do this tomorrow. Right now, I think I’d like to see about booking a balloon ride.”

  TEN

  “The balloons only fly very early in the morning, when the air is cool,” explained the maître d’hotel, clearly confused by this abrupt shift. “I can book you for a flight tomorrow. Or perhaps some other activity? You may stay here, with our compliments, of course.”

  “And get eaten alive by bedbugs?” Bones snapped. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’d really like a balloon ride,” Maddock insisted. “Where do they take off?”

  “The staging area is on the West Bank.”

  “It’s near the Temple of Hatshepsut,” Nora supplied.

  Maddock scowled. “What’s the fastest way there?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “No, scratch that. I want you—” He stabbed a forefinger at the man’s chest. “—to take us there. Right now.”

  The man goggled at him for a moment, but then gave an obsequious nod. “Of course.”

  He ducked back through the door, then emerged a moment later from another door that opened into the lobby. “Please, follow me.”

  As they headed back toward the riverside entrance, Bones leaned in again. “Balloon ride?”

  “It’s the perfect delivery platform. He can fly over all the major tourist hot spots and disperse the stuff into the air. I doubt anyone on the ground would even notice. They’d chalk it up to blowing dust. The effect probably wouldn’t even be felt for hours, maybe even days.”

  “Okay, as crazy ideas go, it’s not the worst one you’ve had.”

  Maddock turned to Nora. “We can handle this from here. You should probably find somewhere safe to hole up. Contact the authorities. Maybe Dr. Zahi can help.”

  “And who will translate for you?” She shook her head. “No. I’m staying with you.”

  Maddock wasn’t inclined to argue with the young woman. She certainly wasn’t wrong about the language barrier, and after everything they had survived together, he would have been surprised if she had taken him up on the offer to bow out.

  The maître d’ led them out onto the boardwalk, back down to the pier and right past their “borrowed” felucca. Maddock could hear the wail of sirens in the distance and wondered if it was the police, heading to investigate reports of the stolen sailboat tied up at the resort’s dock, or responding to some other completely unrelated crisis. He hoped it was the former, and that upon arrival, the police would learn that the “pirates” had left with the maître d’, heading to the balloon staging area on the West Bank. If they were going to stop Fayed, they would need some support from the authorities, but they would have to catch him red-handed, in the act of launching a bio-terror attack.

  He didn’t allow himself to dwell on all the ways this might go wrong.

  The hotel manager ushered them onto a medium-sized pontoon boat, similar to the party barges used by fishing charter companies, and in no time at all, they were once again motoring across the Nile, this time heading north, downriver.

  The journey took all of five minutes, and when they tied up on the far shore, the maître d’ hastened out ahead of them, negotiating with one of the waiting taxi drivers to take them the rest of the way. Maddock, Bones and Nora piled into the back seat of the cab, and then they were off again, traveling back toward Deir al-Bahari.

  Whether it was the fact that the route had become so familiar, or the skill of the driver, the journey seemed to take no time at all. After passing the Colossi of Memnon yet again, they turned north along the desert road, but as they made the hard-left turn leading back to the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, Maddock realized their destination was actually much closer. Less that a quarter of a mile further up the road, two large, bright red, bulb-shaped objects protruded from the desert floor—a pair of hot-air balloons, fully inflated and evidently ready for take-off.

  “Crap,” Bones muttered. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  Maddock clapped a hand against the back of the driver’s seat and pointed at the rising balloons. “There. You’ve got to get us there. Right now.”

  But even as the taxi’s engine revved, the little car veering off the paved road onto the primitive track that led to the staging area, Maddock could see that they were too late. Jets of orange flame were shooting up from the burner units atop the gondolas, heating the air inside the balloon envelopes, and already, the balloons were beginning to rise. One of the balloons was more than a hundred yards away, the bottom of its wicker gondola at least twenty feet above the ground, but the other one—half as far away—had just broken contact with the earth.

  “That one,” Maddock shouted, pointing again. “Head for that one. Ram it!”

  The driver complied, but in the three seconds it took for them to cross the distance, the gondola lofted into the air. The cab driver, hesitating at the last instant, applied the brakes as the over-si
zed basket filled the windshield, skidding to a stop almost directly under it.

  Bones threw open his door and made a desperate leap, launching from the door frame. His long arms gave him enough reach to snare one of the rope loops that dangled like handles from the base of the gondola, but the addition of his weight did nothing to slow the aircraft’s rise. Instead, he too began rising with it.

  Maddock threw himself across the back seat, snagging Bones’ booted foot a fraction of a second before it disappeared above the roof of the taxi, but even this did little to arrest the balloon’s rise. The simple aircraft could easily bear twenty passengers aloft, and from what he had glimpsed on their approach, they were well below capacity.

  As he too was drawn up and out of the vehicle, Maddock hooked one arm around the doorpost, and anchored himself. The strain was beyond anything he had expected, a titanic tug-of-war, with Bones acting as the rope. It was a battle he didn’t think he could win, but if he let go, Bones would be taken up and, when the big man’s grip eventually failed, he would plummet to his death. Maddock wasn’t going to let that happen.

  With a heave, he pulled Bones back down. Six inches. A foot. Two.

  Bones, uttering a howl that Maddock momentarily mistook for pain, also started pulling, flexing his arms and dragging the gondola lower still. The superhuman effort brought him down far enough that his legs were once more inside the interior of the taxi, and he twisted around wedging his free foot under the hinge of the open door.

  “I got this,” Bones rasped. “Do something else.”

  Maddock knew what “something else” meant. He released Bones’ foot and squirmed out past him, belly-flopping onto the gritty desert floor, but immediately sprang to his feet and looked up at the gondola, now floating just a couple feet above his head. Without a moment’s hesitation, he scrambled onto the taxi’s rear end and then up onto its roof. There was an ominous popping sound as the roof panel dimpled under his weight, but he ignored it, flexing his knees and swinging his arms back for added momentum. Then, he jumped.