EQMM, December 2008

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "Certainly. I'll take you there myself."

  "Is that where the shopping bag came from?"

  She nodded and held it up: The name of the shop in English was The Alexandrian Solution. “Cute name, isn't it?"

  Rand grunted. “Let's go see this woman."

  The shop was just off the hotel lobby, a small place that seemed to feature snakeskin shoes and purses, along with necklaces that ended in intricate knots and even the cowled heads of cobras. The trim middle-aged woman behind the counter smiled when she recognized Leila. “You've come back with your husband!"

  "That's me,” Rand admitted.

  "I'm Irene Duggen. You have a charming wife."

  "I think so, too."

  "I shudder when I see those cobras,” Leila remarked. “I forget that Alexandria is cobra country."

  The woman laughed at that. “Why? Because Cleopatra killed herself here with the bite of an asp? I doubt very much that you will see any snakes on your visit, unless you wander through the farmlands after dark, especially near the water."

  "You told Leila that Rosco Mathers died two weeks ago,” Rand said. “I was under the impression we had a meeting with him just this morning."

  "What did this man look like?” she asked.

  "Probably in his fifties, with a bushy black beard and thinning hair on his head."

  She shook her head. “Rosco had no beard."

  "He might have grown one,” Leila suggested.

  "Not after he was dead. Whoever met with you this morning was an imposter."

  "How did Mathers die?” Rand asked.

  "His body was recovered from the sea last month. It was a suspicious death, possibly murder. A terrible tragedy."

  "The police don't know who did it?"

  "His body wasn't found for several days. It may have been robbery, though his wallet and cash weren't taken."

  Rand had another question. “What sort of work did Mathers do? He had all those clocks in his office."

  He thought she blushed a bit at the mention of the clocks. “Those were his father's. The old man operated a string of brothels in the city during the late ‘forties, just after the war. Each of the women had a clock of some sort in her room to keep track of the customer's time limit. When many of the brothels closed and his father died, Rosco kept the clocks as office decorations. As for his business, he simply referred to it as import-export, which could mean almost anything."

  A young Egyptian man came into the shop from the back room, carrying some boxes. “Where do you want these, Irene?"

  "Better leave them in the back room for now. This is my clerk, Nessim. These people are interested in Rosco Mathers."

  Nessim, an Egyptian with a pleasant smile, bobbed his head to acknowledge them. “He was a popular man. No one would want him dead."

  "Did you know him well?"

  "He handled some of our European exports,” Irene Duggen explained, not really answering his question.

  "We were there just once,” Rand said. “All those clocks impressed me."

  "The newspaper ran an article about him last month,” Nessim told them. “He was well known in the city."

  "An article? With a picture?"

  Nessim nodded. “Yes, there was a picture."

  When they left The Alexandrian Solution, Leila remarked, “I assume you won't be getting paid now for your little decoding job."

  "I suppose not,” Rand agreed. “But I'm so close to the end I might as well finish it. I would like to see a photo of Mathers, though, just to make sure I wasn't hired by a ghost."

  "Maybe tomorrow I can look for that newspaper photo. They must have a library here that carries those things."

  He worked on the cipher for a few hours and it was just before the dinner hour when he put down his pencil with a sigh. “Let's get something to eat,” Leila said, sensing his frustration. “I can see it's not as simple as you expected."

  "There's something missing, apparently a list of numbers. This is only half the message."

  "Well, I don't suppose a dead man would need the whole thing."

  "The man we saw in that office this morning was a long way from dead, whatever his name was."

  The phone in their room rang and Leila answered it. She spoke softly for a moment and then hung up. “That was the desk. A police captain is on his way up to see us."

  "What for?"

  "Concerning Rosco Mathers."

  * * * *

  Captain Simbel was a slender man with black hair and a moustache, his skin the pale brown color Rand often saw in Egypt. He removed his peaked cap as he entered. His polite introduction and show of credentials lasted only a moment and then he asked, “Mr. Rand, what is your connection with Rosco Mathers?"

  "He phoned me here yesterday and requested that I come to his office this morning. He wished to hire me for a brief bit of work."

  Simbel's eyes shifted to Leila and then back to Rand. “And you called on him?"

  "Both of us did."

  He produced a small photograph which he handed to Rand. “Was this the man you met?” The photograph had obviously been taken at Mathers's desk, probably the one the newspaper had used. His array of clocks was the backdrop, all carefully set at twenty minutes after eight.

  "No. He had a beard and appeared older than this man."

  "This is the real Rosco Mathers. The man you met was an imposter. What was it he asked you to do?"

  "Decode a message. I did that sort of work in my younger days."

  "Do you have it?"

  "I haven't quite finished it yet,” Rand told him.

  "The real Mathers was a well-known businessman in the import-export business. His body was recovered two weeks ago from the Mediterranean."

  "I know that now."

  "Do you have any idea how this imposter gained access to Mathers's office?"

  "I suppose it wouldn't be too difficult to pick a lock. Did he have relatives or someone who might take over the business?"

  Captain Simbel pursed his lips, perhaps weighing just how much to tell Rand. “There's a brother, Frederick Mathers. I spoke with him after Rosco's death. At the time, he didn't know what would become of the business. There were only a few people employed there and he'd let them all go."

  "Did Rosco have a wife?"

  "They were divorced. She has a gift shop in the lobby of this hotel."

  Leila gasped at the news. “Not The Alexandrian Solution?"

  "That's the place, yes."

  "Her name is Irene Duggen. She seems to be British."

  "Why does that surprise you? Rosco Mathers was British also."

  "It's just that—” Leila hesitated. “When she told us he was dead she didn't mention that she was his ex-wife."

  "But she did tell you she attended his funeral,” Rand reminded her. Then, to Captain Simbel, he said, “Do you have any leads on who killed him?"

  "None. It was perhaps an attempted robbery, though his wallet and money were still on the body."

  "But you remain interested in the case."

  "He was a wealthy and important businessman, one of Alexandria's leading citizens.” Simbel picked up his cap and indicated that the interview was over. He handed Rand his card. “You will contact me if you hear from this imposter again."

  "Of course."

  When they were alone Leila commented, “That seemed like more than a casual interview."

  Rand agreed. “Let's go to dinner before there's a further interruption."

  In the morning, after breakfast, Leila decided she really wanted to visit the Graeco-Roman Museum. Rand suggested meeting her for lunch so he could finish work on the cipher. “Maybe it'll tell us something we don't know."

  "Meet me at noon by the museum entrance. They might have an eating place right there."

  Back in the room he waited while the chambermaid cleaned up and made the beds, then settled down to the last few lines of the cipher. He'd been at it only a few minutes when the phone at his elbow rang. When he answ
ered it, a familiar voice said, “Mr. Rand? This is Rosco Mathers. I'm calling to see if you've completed that little task for me."

  Rand had no experience speaking to dead men on the telephone, but he reminded himself that this Mathers was merely the imposter he'd met the previous day. “Yes, it's finished."

  "Splendid! If you can deliver it here to my office I'll pay you for your time."

  The money meant very little to Rand, but he wanted to meet with the imposter one more time. “I'll be over in a half-hour."

  As on their previous visit, there was no receptionist at the reception room desk. Rand knocked at the door of the inner office and called out Mathers's name but there was no reply. He tried the knob and the door swung open. The man he'd known as Mathers was slumped in the chair before the wall of clocks with their identical times. He was covered in fresh blood. His throat had been slashed.

  Rosco Mathers had been killed for the second time.

  * * * *

  Rand wasted no time. Using his handkerchief in an attempt to preserve any fingerprints, he lifted the phone and called Captain Simbel. The first police arrived within minutes, and Simbel himself was on the scene a short time later. He took one look at the slashed throat of the victim and nodded. “The Alexandrian Solution."

  "What—?"

  "Did he phone you?"

  Rand nodded. “At my hotel room, shortly after my wife left. He wanted to know if I'd finished with the cipher and I told him I had. I said I'd be here in a half-hour."

  "He seems to have been killed with a large knife, perhaps even a sword. The arc of bloodstains indicates the killer probably stood across the desk from him and swung the weapon before the victim could protect himself."

  "Any idea who he was?"

  "Not Rosco Mathers."

  Simbel's men seemed to be in charge and Rand asked if he could leave. “I've told you everything I know."

  "Certainly. I will walk outside with you."

  The street was alive with traffic and a crowd of bystanders attracted by the police presence. “Do you think it was a robbery?” Rand asked Simbel.

  "I doubt it. The most valuable things in the office are probably those clocks, and they were untouched."

  "What did you mean by ‘the Alexandrian solution'?"

  The police captain sighed. “Did you ever hear of the Gordian Knot?"

  "A knot so complicated no one could untie it?” He remembered the knotted necklaces at Irene Duggen's shop.

  "Exactly. Legend has it that Alexander the Great was told whoever undid it would rule the entire Near East. He cut the knot in two with a stroke of his sword. Some speak of it as the Alexandrian Solution—solving a difficult situation with a single decisive stroke."

  "And you think that's what the killer did?"

  "It seems more than likely."

  "And Irene Duggen's shop of that name?"

  He shrugged. “Simply a clever name for a gift shop in this city.” Rand was about to part company when Simbel asked, “Did you finish decoding the message?"

  "Mostly, yes."

  "At this point that becomes police evidence. Hand it over, please."

  Rand saw little point in arguing about it. He took the folded paper from his pocket. “It's a relatively simple numbers cipher, with the message in five-number groups. Happily it was in English, probably because Mathers was English."

  Simbel took the message and its translation from Rand and read it quickly. “What is this? It makes no sense."

  "It appears that Rosco Mathers was selling arms through his import-export business. This message confirms the impending arrival of weapons on a container ship out of South America."

  "Alexandria is our country's largest port. Much cargo passes through here daily. There are really two harbors, with the west harbor used for commercial shipping. Its Zone Four handles containers. But if we're to intercept this shipment we would need to know the container number. And for all we know, it could be a perfectly legal arms shipment."

  "Two men are dead,” Rand reminded him. “And the second victim was impersonating the first one. Somehow that doesn't seem perfectly legal to me."

  "His brother insists Rosco was not involved in any illegal activity."

  Rand had forgotten about the brother for the moment. “Where can I find Frederick Mathers?"

  "He's a tour guide, not nearly so successful as his brother. His office is here at Cleopatra Travel, but he conducts tours all over the country, especially along the Nile."

  After they parted, Rand suddenly remembered he was meeting Leila at the museum. He hurried to a taxi and arrived at the museum only about fifteen minutes late for their noon meeting. “I was beginning to worry,” Leila said as he hurried up the steps to her side.

  "It's a long story. I'll tell you about it over lunch."

  Leila listened in silence to his account of finding the body and phoning Captain Simbel. Then she asked, “What do you intend to do now?"

  "I'd like to meet the brother. We could look up his address and go talk to him about a tour."

  "Jeffrey, whatever's happening here doesn't concern us. It's up to the police to find the killer and this shipment of weapons, if it is illegal. You're retired, remember?"

  "I've been retired for years."

  When they'd finished lunch, Leila was ready to continue her museum visit. “They have some fine Roman mosaics from the city's early days."

  "If I spend a couple of hours with you in the museum will you come with me to visit Frederick Mathers?"

  "Why do you need me?"

  "We're a retired couple inquiring about tours. It would seem odd if I went alone."

  She agreed with some reluctance and by four o'clock they were at the Cleopatra Travel Service where Mathers worked. Each desk had a nameplate, so it was easy enough to find Frederick. Rand explained that they were in Egypt for a week and wanted to see some of the more unusual attractions.

  Frederick Mathers was clean-shaven, with blue eyes and blond hair only beginning to lose its luster. Rand suspected he'd be a popular guide for English ladies wanting a bit of romance on their holiday. “Was there anything special that interested you?” he asked.

  "Well,” Leila said, “since this is the Cleopatra Travel Service I was wondering about her emerald mine."

  "A fabulous place,” Mathers agreed. “It's east of Aswan, near the Red Sea. That's some distance from here, but worth the trip."

  "Are the emeralds still there?” Rand wondered.

  "Sadly, no. The mine was worked out centuries ago. Emeralds were mined there by Greeks in the time of Alexander. Some say a rare perfect emerald was worth more than a diamond of the same size. They certainly were Cleopatra's favorite gem."

  On cue, Leila asked casually, “Are you any relation to Rosco Mathers?"

  Frederick's face seemed to freeze. “He was my brother."

  "We met him once on a previous visit. We were saddened to hear of his death."

  "So was I, naturally. We weren't that close, but he was still my brother."

  "Someone told us he might have been murdered,” Rand said.

  "He was involved in lots of things."

  "Drugs?"

  Frederick shook his head. “Arms shipments, mostly. It was a bad business to be in. You could get killed by either side."

  "But profitable, if you stay alive."

  Frederick pulled out some tour brochures, perhaps deciding he'd already said too much about his brother. “The Nile cruise is always popular, and there are numerous stops along the way. We could even include Cleopatra's mines if you wish."

  Rand glanced at his watch, as if remembering a prior engagement. “Dear, we have to meet our friends back at the hotel in thirty minutes. Perhaps we should come back here tomorrow."

  "Take these along,” the blue-eyed Englishman urged. “Here's my card. I can guarantee you a fabulous tour whichever one you choose."

  * * * *

  After dinner at a fancy restaurant called the Sea Gull, they returned t
o the hotel to find Irene Duggen waiting for them in the lobby. “I wanted to talk to you about Rosco."

  They found a secluded table in the cocktail lounge and Rand ordered after-dinner drinks. “He was your ex-husband."

  Irene nodded. “It's no big secret, but Captain Simbel said he told you, and I wanted to set the record straight."

  "There's no need to,” Rand assured her. “I'm not investigating anything. I've been retired from government service for some time. My wife and I are on holiday."

  She smiled knowingly. “When we were married Rosco once told me that no one ever retires from British Intelligence."

  "I wish it were true. I'd still be getting paid every month."

  "Rosco told me he was worried. There were some Middle Eastern types trying to kill him. He hired a man once to impersonate him and the man got shot in the arm. I suppose it was the dangers of his business that led to our divorce. I was afraid I might be kidnapped or worse if I stayed married to him."

  "Do you have any idea of who died at his office this morning?"

  She shook her head. “That's why Simbel called, to tell me about it."

  "You mentioned Rosco had enemies. He must have mentioned some names."

  Irene considered that. “One name, the man he feared the most. He was called Kraken, after the legendary sea monster. I don't know that anyone knows his real name, but he and Rosco competed in the arms trade."

  Rand considered the possibilities. “If this Kraken killed Rosco and came upon that coded message, he may have learned of my presence in Alexandria and hired me to decode it."

  "I don't know what to think,” she admitted. “I just wanted to be straight with you."

  He tended to believe her, but later, back in their hotel room, Leila had doubts. “Why should she worry about what you know or don't know?"

  "She seems to believe I'm here in an official capacity."

  "I think we should forget the entire business,” she decided. “Captain Simbel seems quite capable of finding out who killed both the real and the imposter Rosco Mathers. You did your part. You decoded that message."

  "But the numbers were missing,” Rand grumbled. “If the message has any meaning at all, it's that a shipment of illegal arms is sitting on the Alexandria docks in one of those cargo containers."