The Orion Project: A Novel

by Edward Marin

  “What the hell’s this?” Smith said.

  “Hieroglyphics. Something to prove that I’m telling the truth about my knowledge of ancient Egypt.”

  After examining the characters for a few moments, the man shut his eyes and rested his head between his hands.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said after a few moments. “Write an essay in the same language about something related to ancient Egypt.”

  Tonemcadu quickly filled several pages and handed them to Smith, who put them in a briefcase.

  “Come back at three this afternoon and I’ll let you know what I think,” Smith said.

  Tonemcadu left the office feeling both exhilarated and anxious. He spent the next few hours walking around the area outside of the terminals, admiring nearby sights such as the Intrepid Sea-Air-Space Museum, the theater district, Rockefeller Center, and Carnegie Hall.

  At 2:45 he made his way back to Smith’s office. He looked tired and irritated so Tonemcadu was surprised when the human resources director extended his hand and smiled at him.

  “I had Jackson, our previous instructor, take a look at what you wrote, and he was impressed with your knowledge,” he said. “He couldn’t believe that you wrote that much detail without any preparation and without the use of a dictionary. So congratulations, you got the job.”

  “You’ll find these classes to be very informal,” he said, without waiting for a response from Tonemcadu. “You may see new faces every day. Don’t take it personally; it doesn’t necessarily mean the students are quitting your class. People are on vacation, so they don’t like structure. Some may show up one day and decide to spend the next day at the pool. You can prepare a course curriculum if you want, but I know from your predecessor that you’ll probably just end up talking about whatever your students are interested in.”

  Tonemcadu nodded.

  “How long does the trip from New York to Alexandria take?” he said.

  “Seventeen days.”

  It would be close; only four days left once he reached Alexandria.

  Unlike when he’d been hired at Luigi’s, Tonemcadu had to fill out all kinds of paperwork. He got creative when it came to the gaps and inconsistencies in his life, such as his birth date and experience.

  When he finished, Smith got on the phone and called in a young woman with bangs of auburn hair that nearly covered her eyes.

  “This is Julie, my assistant,” he said, then turned to the woman. “Mr. Tonem Kadu is our new ancient Egypt seminar instructor. You can take him to meet the others.”

  Tonemcadu followed Julie into a conference room down the hall where about ten people were sitting around a large table.

  “These are the other new hires,” she said. “I’ll be taking all of you on a tour of the ship in a few minutes.”

  She then walked to the head of the table and pulled out some notes from a folder.

  “Welcome to the Pearl of the Oceans,” she said in a monotone. “This is a ship with a gross tonnage of 150,000 UMS. It’s 1,000 feet in length and 155 feet in breadth. It has a 3,200-passengers capacity and a 900-crew capacity. There are fourteen passenger decks, fourteen elevators, 1,320 outside cabins, and 310 inside cabins. Five dining areas, three meeting rooms, eight bars or night clubs, one card room, one casino, three swimming pools, and three small libraries. The ship is registered in Liberia.

  “During this trip we’ll stop in Lisbon, Portugal; Casablanca, Morocco; Nice, France; Haifa, Israel; Alexandria, Egypt. You’re not allowed to get off the ship except for those of you who conduct the tours at each port of call. In those cases, there will be an additional crew member and a local tour guide. Now follow me and I’ll show you the ship.”

  The tour took two hours to complete. First, Julie showed them the lowest deck, a maze of unpainted halls lined with rows of small, grim, windowless cabins, each shared by three or four people. She said they were occupied by the unskilled workers and asked the group not to mention their salaries to any of them to maintain morale on the ship. She explained that, to reduce labor costs, most ships, including the Pearl of the Oceans, hired the cleaners, busboys, waiters, cabin stewards, galley workers, and other unskilled personnel from poor countries. Because of the ships’ foreign flag status, they didn’t have to follow U.S. labor laws.

  Farther up the hall, she showed them their living quarters. Tonemcadu had been assigned to a tiny individual cabin. From there, she took them to the areas where each would be working. In Tonemcadu’s case, it was a classroom in the activities section.

  She then showed them the crew cafeterias and crew bars and told them to spend time there while off duty because, unlike the officers and entertainers, they were banned from the passenger areas. Finally, she took them to the upper deck, where they met the captain.

  Before leaving them, she asked them to be on time to their various departments the following day.

  Tonemcadu spent the rest of the day exploring parts of the ship at his own pace and thinking about what he would say on the first day of class.

  CHAPTER 26

  Holcomb couldn’t figure out what could have caused Robertson to offer him half of his missing-person case. He suspected that finding this guy Tonemcadu would involve a lot more than the usual trailing of a cheating spouse or investigating a witness for a trial. It could potentially be very lucrative.

  The only thing he could come up with was that Robertson didn’t feel capable of completing the job on his own, but that didn’t fit with his oversized ego. The area he was lacking in wasn’t technical; it was his inadequate people skills that had prevented him from getting more clients and making the kind of money he wanted.

  As both men drove toward Barbara Covell’s house, Holcomb hoped she’d provide the information they needed to get started. Going on site had been his idea and seemed like the best way to get the young woman to open up.

  Moments later, they pulled in front of a modest bungalow on 75th Street. The attractive middle-aged woman who opened the door looked surprised and worried at the sight of the two men in business suits.

  “I thought your agency had approved our green card applications,” she said with a noticeable Caribbean accent.

  Holcomb gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re not from the government. We’re here to talk to Barbara Covell about a mutual friend.”

  The woman scrutinized both of them before going back inside the house. A couple of minutes later, a younger version of her came to the front door and extended her hand.

  “Hi. I’m Barbara,” she said.

  Holcomb extended his hand. He could see something innocent and soft in her that made him hopeful she’d believe him.

  “You want to talk to me about Tony Cadu, right?”

  Holcomb shook his head affirmatively.

  “Do you know where he is?” she said.

  “No, that’s why we’re here. We thought you might tell us.”

  The young woman’s disappointment showed in every muscle of her face.

  “I’ve been trying to find him myself,” she said. “The only information I have is that he was seen a few days ago outside of Luigi’s pizzeria.”

  “Do you know who saw him there?” Robertson said.

  “Dona Rosa. She used to work there.”

  The two men looked at each other, thanked her, and got back in their car. As he pulled away, Holcomb heard the young woman call out, “Please let me know if you find out anything.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Tonemcadu showed up for class half an hour before it was scheduled to begin and took a seat behind the instructor’s table. The room had about twenty desks and was painted in tropical colors.

  The first person to walk in was a thin man with the kind of bloated features common to heavy drinkers.

  “Where’s the instructor?” he said, despite the fact that Tonemcadu was sitting in the instructor seat.

  “I’m the instructor,” Tonemcadu said.

  “I was told that Jackson was going to be teaching a
gain during this cruise.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “Why? What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The man stormed out of the room without holding the spring-activated door, which caused it to slam behind him.

  Tonemcadu hoped the rest of the class would be easier to deal with. He was surprised when the man returned a couple of minutes later and walked up to him with his hand extended.

  “Name’s Burt Rydell. I’ve been taking these classes with Jackson for a few years, so I was disappointed not to see him. Nothing against you.”

  Just as he turned around to take a seat in the back, a young woman walked in the door, smiled at Tonemcadu, and asked if this was the right classroom. She was followed by an elderly man with a cane.

  For some reason Tonemcadu had assumed that every seat would be filled, but by nine o’clock when the class was scheduled to start, no one else had shown up.

  For the entire hour he talked about what everyday life was like for a typical government official in ancient Egypt. The friendly young woman and the elderly man took some notes and asked a few questions. But Burt Rydell kept his eyes closed throughout the lecture, looking up only once when Tonemcadu mentioned that some ancient Egypt government officials maintained gold to pay workers in secret caches that have probably not been found to this day.

  In the following days, more students came in and out of the class. Smith had been right. With all the different activities competing for their interest, there was a revolving door of onlookers who sometimes stayed only a few minutes before leaving to disappear to other parts of the ship. Other students stayed the full hour and even came in several days in a row. At times there could be as many as ten people in the class and other times as few as two. The only constant was Burt Rydell, who came in every day and stayed for the entire lecture, eyes closed except when something in the lecture caught his attention for some reason.

  But then, on the fifth day, Tonemcadu noticed that the class was crowded. By the end of the week so many people were showing up that he had to ask Julie to have additional chairs brought in and then to move to a larger lecture hall. Tonemcadu became a sort of celebrity to many of the vacationers, who asked him questions long after the end of the lecture and sometimes even followed him around the ship trying to get additional information.

  When he wasn’t explaining something to his students, Tonemcadu’s life settled into a rather monotonous routine. He spent much of his time in his cabin preparing for his classes. He also went to an area of the deck to watch passengers, still intrigued by the contradictions of modern life. The sight of the many happy couples he saw invariably caused his mind to drift toward Barbara, to worry about how she was doing and fantasize about what it would have been like to have her on the cruise with him.

  One day, about ten days into the cruise, Burt Rydell didn’t leave the classroom right after the lecture as was his custom. He waited patiently until the last student had left and walked over to Tonemcadu’s desk.

  “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he said in what for him was a friendly manner.

  “Of course,” Tonemcadu said.

  “How well did you know Jackson?”

  Tonemcadu was taken aback by the question.

  “I never met him,” he said. “All I know about him is that he’s my predecessor. The human resources director thinks highly of him.”

  “Oh, yes, Jackson knew his stuff. That’s why I used to hire him to work for me.”

  “Really?” Tonemcadu said. “What kind of work?”

  Rydell looked intently at him.

  “Consulting work, for my art business. When Jackson had your job, he would help me identify valuable artifacts in Egypt. As a matter of fact, the reason I wanted to talk to you was to offer you the same opportunity.”

  Tonemcadu sighed. The last thing he wanted once he reached his destination was to spend his time on something other than his mission.

  “I’m sorry, but I have a job once I get there.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m giving you the chance to make more money in a few days than you could make teaching on this ship for a year.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but my job in Egypt begins as soon as we dock and will keep me fully occupied. I won’t have the time.” Tonemcadu couldn’t help wondering under what circumstances Rydell was gathering the art pieces and why he was willing to pay him so much money. He decided not to express any curiosity, which might be misinterpreted as interest in the job.

  Rydell walked toward the door. Before he reached it, he stopped and looked at Tonemcadu.

  “Don’t make a final decision yet,” he said. “Think about it.”

  One afternoon, while checking his calendar, Tonemcadu realized that they had almost finished crossing the Atlantic and were due to anchor in Lisbon. The prospect of reaching solid ground and being that much closer to his goal filled him with a burst of energy.

  Having time to waste, he went back to the classroom and started clearing out the drawers of his desk, separating his own notes from the heaps of paper that seemed to have been accumulating for years. Among them was a sheet of paper with Burt Rydell’s name written across the top. It read:

  Due to my desire to do something more compatible with my principles and ideals, I’ve decided to accept employment at a university. As a result, I’ve submitted my resignation to the human resources department effective at the end of the month. I am also resigning from the consulting job I’ve held for the last five years.

  Sincerely,

  Thomas Jackson

  Tonemcadu was intrigued by how much, and how little, the letter said.

  As he was reflecting on it, he was struck by a moment of unsettling clarity. In a flash, he understood the reason for Rydell’s strange behavior. It all made sense; Rydell’s surprise and disappointment at not seeing Jackson on the first day of class, the frequent cruises he apparently always took alone to the same location, his need for a consultant to identify valuable artifacts, and Jackson’s letter. Taken together, these facts suggested that Rydell

  was an illegal art dealer who trafficked in stolen ancient Egypt art by smuggling it on the cruise ships. He wondered if his sarcophagus had been taken in that manner by someone like Rydell.

  They reached Lisbon later that afternoon where, following the human resources department regulations, Tonemcadu stayed on board along with most of the staff. From there they went on to spend the following week at sea with brief stops in Casablanca, Nice, and Haifa.

  To his surprise, Rydell continued to show up for class. But his attitude changed from passive indifference to disruptive hostility. It was as if he’d guessed that Tonemcadu had figured out the nature of his business and wanted to either intimidate him into silence or get him fired.

  One day, right in the middle of a lecture about ancient Egypt spirituality, he interrupted Tonemcadu in mid-sentence: “Can you tell us why the ancient Egyptians wasted so much time thinking about the afterlife?”

  “It wasn’t wasted. Their place in the afterlife was very important to them.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rydell said.

  “If that’s your opinion, you’re free to leave--”

  “How do you know what they believed? What are your credentials, anyway?”

  For a fraction of a second Tonemcadu felt an urge to answer. He wanted to tell him that he’d lived in ancient Egypt and had known the pharaoh Akhenaton, the father of Tutankhamen, that he’d even met a young Moses. But, of course, he had nothing to prove to Rydell, who knew he was qualified and had even offered him a job.

  “It was Jackson who confirmed my qualifications,” he said and continued his lecture. Rydell got up and stormed out of the class.

  They were scheduled to reach Alexandria the following morning. When Tonemcadu got to his classroom half an hour early, as was his custom, he noticed a skinny man standing in front of the door, observing everyone who walked
by.

  “Are you Mr. Tonem Cadu?” the man said.

  “That’s right. How can I help you?”

  “My name is Joe, from human resources.” He handed him an envelope from the folder and walked away.

  Tonemcadu opened the envelope and read the memo inside, written on human-resources letterhead.

  To: Mr. Tonem Cadu

  From: Patrick Smith

  Re: Alexandria

  Once we arrive in Alexandria, you are to get off the ship and go to the western harbor visitor’s station. A Pearl of the Oceans facilitator will meet you there and assign you a local guide who will help you escort a group of passengers interested in touring some of the city’s sites. You will make sure that all passengers are accounted for and have everything they need during the tour, which will last approximately two hours.

  Tonemcadu was sure no one had said anything to him about getting off the ship. In fact, he remembered Julie saying during the orientation session that he was supposed to stay on board. So why was he being informed in a letter about what amounted to a change in his job description?

  It didn’t matter. After all, he wanted to get off the ship in Egypt. He had no intention to lead the group on a tour. The trip from New York to Alexandria had taken seventeen days, leaving him only four days to complete his mission. As soon as he reached solid ground, he’d find the quickest way to the Great Pyramid.

  He went up on deck and looked toward the city, about half a mile away. It was a mixture of modernity and antiquity, full of the special kind of energy that often comes along with disorder. That impression was confirmed an hour later, when they docked at the port and he was struck by myriad sounds and an assortment of scents that pleased his senses.

  He hurried off the boat ahead of the disembarking passengers and started making his way to the area of the pier closest to the city. While walking by the visitor’s station that had been mentioned in the letter from Smith, he noticed two men dressed like tourists who were walking in his direction.