New Rome Rising

by Rene Fomby

  Gavin looked confused. “A suitcase? What’s in there? Something special from Sanders?” He couldn’t help but recall the little pink suitcase Andy had carried with her all across Tunisia. A suitcase jam packed with a wide variety of nifty spy gadgets. Gadgets that in the end had proven quite useful.

  “Nothing, other than a few rocks I tossed in to give it some weight,” Ramon answered with a grin. “But you can’t exactly check into a five-star hotel for a few days carrying that dinky little day bag. When Sanders told me you were coming in on a fighter jet, I figured you’d be limited to carrying only what could fit into the overhead bin, so …”

  “Good idea.” Gavin cocked his head toward the hotel entrance. “Okay, I’ll get checked in, maybe grab a quick bite, then meet you back here at curbside in an hour.”

  “See you in sixty.” Ramon jumped back into the cab and shot off quite literally in a cloud of dust, throwing up a small fog of fine golden sand blown in from the Sahara Desert just off to the south of the city. Gavin dusted off his jacket and headed inside.

  12

  Cairo

  The drive from the hotel to the museum only took a few minutes. “I didn’t realize it was so close. We could have walked over,” Gavin suggested.

  “Yeah, but then we would have had to walk back to the car if we needed to go someplace else afterward,” Ramon explained. He pulled up to a parking spot just across from the museum and, hopping out, walked over to an old man sitting quietly in a rickety lawn chair on the sidewalk directly across from the car, handing him a few coins.

  “What was that all about?” Gavin asked as they crossed the street, heading for the entrance gate to the museum.

  “That was the Egyptian equivalent of a parking meter. You pay him to watch your car, and when you get back you still have all your tires and your hood ornament, if you’ve got one to start with. More importantly, in a city with twenty million starving inhabitants, it gives him a job, something to do.” He passed some tickets to the gate attendant and they walked through.

  The museum was an imposing red stone two-story structure, surrounded by a poorly maintained, minimalist garden and a tall metal fence. Constructed in 1902 as one of the world’s first purpose-built museums, it remained largely untouched and unimproved from its earliest days. The museum occupied the northern edge of Tahrir Square, the primary gathering place for protestors during the deadly revolutionary riots of 2011 and 2013. During the 2011 disturbances, rioters broke into the museum, causing substantial damage to several mummies and other exhibits, and the loss of fifty priceless artifacts from Egypt’s past. More recently, damage to some of the museum’s remaining valuable artifacts—including the breaking off of King Tutankhamun’s beard and the resulting clumsy attempt by the museum’s curators to repair it—stirred the Egyptian government to create two new museums, one of them at the foot of the pyramids themselves. As Gavin and Ramon entered the front door of the museum, workers were busy all around them packing up exhibits for the final transfer to their new homes.

  Ramon pointed to a staircase. “The last place where we have a read on Lieutenant Patterson’s last known location is in what’s known as the Western Mummy Room, up on the second floor. We’ll start there.” Ramon led the way up the stairs, then turned left.

  Entering the room, Gavin was immediately struck by how many mummies were on display, and the rather casual approach the museum had taken to show them off. Dozens of mummies lined the walls in plain glass-fronted wooden bookshelves, with the only English identification being small, yellowed note cards that looked like they had been sloppily typed back in the nineteen fifties, with most of the all-too-common corrections simply x-ed out. In the center of the room were several slightly larger glass and wooden cases, inside of which lay mummies that had been mostly unwrapped, their faces looking more like shriveled up brown-leather footballs than anything else.

  Ramon glanced down at a small device he was grasping in his right hand, stepping slightly forward and to his left. “According to this, she was standing right here, more or less, when the GPS was turned off.”

  Gavin looked around warily. Even mid-morning the two of them had the room entirely to themselves. Evidently Egyptian tourism had really taken a plunge in recent years. “So, from what I saw in the packet Sanders sent me, all this happened late in the afternoon, just before closing. Seems to be a pretty public spot for a kidnapping, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, maybe, but other than the regular tourist groups, hardly anyone comes in here these days. The locals have very little interest in all this, and the tourist groups are usually in and out very early in the day, on their way to the pyramids. So just before closing, this place would probably look like a ghost town.”

  “Still—” Gavin pulled a small spray bottle out of his pants pocket, then handed Ramon a tightly folded micro-thin black tarp. “With all the light in here, even with luminol I wouldn’t be able to detect any blood spatters. But if you can help me hold this black plastic drape up, it should make things dark enough. Otherwise we’ll have to try and hunt someone down to shut off all these lights.”

  Gavin squatted down in front of the area where the GPS said Andy had been standing, while Ramon unfolded the plastic tarp and laid it over Gavin’s back, all the way to the floor. Holding up the other end for a moment longer, he dropped that side to the floor, as well, creating a four-foot-square area of relative darkness. Gavin sprayed the luminol lightly on the floor, checking for any tell-tale glow that would indicate the presence of blood. Moving slowly in a circular pattern around the middle of the floor while Ramon worked to keep the drape centered around him, Gavin continued to spray the floor for several minutes before finally giving up.

  “Nada,” he said, pulling the plastic off his back and standing up. “And judging from the dust collection in here, and what just got deposited on the knees of my trousers, it’s highly unlikely anyone’s been in here cleaning up anytime recently. So I could be wrong, but the good news is, whatever happened in here, nobody got shot or stabbed.” He glanced up at the corners of the room. “You’d think they’d want to put some cameras in here to watch the place. But I suppose the last time they decorated this room, security cameras hadn’t been invented yet.”

  “Right. But they do have some in the main hallways, and outside at the rear loading docks,” Ramon pointed out. “The problem is, I already asked for copies of the tapes from the end of last week, and nobody seems to be in any hurry to get them to me.” He chewed on his bottom lip for a second. “The only way to make things happen in a hurry in Egypt is by bribing someone. But, ironically, bribery is highly illegal here, so the process is quite difficult to pull off, and agonizingly slow even if you try.”

  “So, damned if you do, and damned if you don’t,” Gavin suggested.

  “Yep. But hey, you’re FBI. Do you think you can pull some strings with Interpol or somebody to grease the skids around here?”

  Gavin shook his head. “No, if Egypt is anything like Morocco, that would probably have quite the opposite effect. But, on the other hand, I just might have one contact who could move a mountain to Mohammed if we needed him to. Based upon everything I’ve seen so far.”

  “Yeah? Who’s that?” Ramon was struggling with folding up the tarp to put it away.

  “Somebody you know as well as I do. Bob freaking Sanders.” He checked his watch. “Okay, it’s the middle of the night back in Washington, but he did say to call him anytime, night or day. Time to find out if he really meant it.”

  13

  Cairo

  Gavin pulled the phone down from his ear, a big smile playing across his face. “Wow. When I came up with the idea of bringing Sanders into the loop on the security cameras issue, I thought maybe he could get us something in a few days, maybe a week—”

  “Yeah? What did he say?”

  By this point, Ramon was almost ready to wad the tarp up and throw it away, and his frustration was showing on his face. Gavin reached over and took it f
rom him with a twisted smile. “He told me to grab some lunch, and he’d have someone drop the tapes off back at my room at the Marriott by early afternoon.”

  “Damn! All I can say is, that man must have the goods on a whole lot of people. After twenty years in this town, I’ve never seen anything move that fast. When I asked for the tapes two days ago, all I got was a shrug and a stack of forms to fill out.”

  “I hear ya, buddy. Back in Rabat, it takes most of a day just to rent a car.” Gavin smiled, shaking his head. “Well, not really. But most days it sure seems like it. So look, we got nothing to do on this case until sometime after lunch. Where do you suggest we can grab some grub around here?” He made the last tight fold on the tarp and shoved it in his back pocket.

  “Like I said earlier, you can’t do any better than the Marriott, although there are some spots out on the Pyramids Road we could try later if we have the time. As for me, I want to lay eyes on that security footage as soon as it’s available, and I’d hate getting stuck in traffic coming back from lunch.”

  “The Marriott it is, then. Lead on, mi amigo, lunch is on me. After all, you’re driving—”

  “And Sanders is picking up the tab. I like the way you roll.”

  ※

  Lunch was every bit as delicious as Ramon had promised, and Gavin was appreciative of the fact that the hotel could be trusted not to serve anything that would have him driving the porcelain bus for the next few days. Back in his room, Gavin channel surfed the TV while Ramon looked over the packet Sanders had sent over with the F-15 pilot. He was so completely absorbed in it that when the knock sounded on their door he almost jumped out of his skin.

  “Right on time,” Gavin noted as he checked the security peephole before unlocking and opening the door.

  A youngish man in a plain blue government-issued suit held up a small Zero Halliburton aluminum briefcase. “Package for a Mr. Gavin Larson,” he said briskly.

  “That would be me,” Gavin answered, reaching for the case as the courier yanked it back.

  “Sorry. I’m going to need to see some ID first. My boss said he’d have my ass if I didn’t get this to the right guy ASAP.”

  “Right. Just a sec.” Gavin fumbled with his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open to show his Embassy ID from Rabat. The courier looked it over closely, then glanced back at Gavin’s face before finally handing the case over. Gavin dismissed him with a curt nod, then closed and locked the door before walking back into the room and setting the case on the bed. Quickly snapping the latches open, he lifted the lid. In the very center of the case, lying on a pristine bed of dark gray foam, were two items—a black USB dongle and a single micro SD card.

  “Guess they wanted to make sure we could access the video feeds regardless of what equipment we had on hand,” Ramon suggested.

  “Yeah, and the SD card will work out perfectly with my Android tablet.” Gavin snatched up the card and inserted it into the side slot on his tablet, careful not to accidentally damage it. He then brought up a file manager app. “Okay, so it looks like we have about forty or so files here. Do you have something you can use to browse through it all, as well?”

  “Yeah, if you can copy those files over onto your tablet, I can use the SD card slot on my phone. Not perfect, but good enough to ID anything fishy on the videos.”

  Gavin quickly made a copy of the card, then handed it over to Ramon. Together, they sat side-by-side on the bed, scrolling through the contents of the video files. Within fifteen minutes Gavin finally found something.

  He turned the face of his tablet so both of them could see. “Look here on one of the hall cams. The time stamp is a little off, but that’s probably just a matter of them failing to reset the clocks after a power outage or something. But that’s definitely Andy, there in the middle. And I’m guessing the guy beside her is the analyst who went with her.”

  Ramon leaned in closer. “They don’t look too worse for wear, so that’s a good thing. And look—” He pointed to a small black tube just visible behind the analyst and in front of a dark-clothed man who was walking behind him, one hand on the analyst’s shoulder, prodding him along. Another man was in a similar position behind Andy. “If I’m not mistaken, that, my friend, is a gun.”

  “So now we know a little bit more about what went down,” Gavin said. “Okay, you obviously know your way around the museum much better than I do. Where do you think they’re headed?”

  “That’s the wrong direction for the stairwell, but there’s a freight elevator in the back of the museum that leads down to the loading docks. My guess is that’s where they’re going, trying to sneak out the back. So now we just need to find the footage from the camera on the loading docks, assuming it’s there.”

  “And I’m guessing the time stamps are synchronized. Or at least I’m hoping that’s true.” Gavin pulled up the file manager again and started sorting through the files. “I’ve already checked these files up here, and you’ve made it how far down your list?”

  “Right here.” Ramon pointed a finger at one of the files a third of the way down the list.

  “Good. So I’ll check these, and you check the others. We’ll start by eliminating any videos that aren’t from the loading dock, then zoom ahead looking for a matching time stamp. With any luck it won’t take us long at all.”

  “Way ahead of you, Gavin,” Ramon said, holding up his phone. “Struck pay dirt on the first file I looked at.”

  “Alrighty, then!” Gavin pulled up the same video on his tablet and zoomed ahead. The image was dark and fairly grainy, but four individuals could be made out exiting the building and entering a plain, unmarked black delivery van. More importantly, when Gavin froze the video, the lettering on the van’s Egyptian license plate was unmistakable.

  “Do you have any contacts back at the Embassy who can get us a trace on this, or do we need to wake up Sanders again?” Gavin asked.

  “Tell you what, give me an hour and let me see what I can do with this. While museum security has never been a big concern of ours, we have managed to place some cameras of our own all around Cairo. Not total coverage like you’d get in places like London, but enough that we might be able to figure out where these guys were headed after they left Tahrir Square.”

  Gavin clapped him on the back. “Good man, Charlie Brown! I’m really starting to grow quite fond of you.”

  “Fair enough.” Ramon pulled himself up off the bed, already keying the number of his CIA contact at the Embassy into his phone. “But just so long as we keep it all limited to nothing more than a bromance. And not the kind of fondness Sanders says you have going on with Andrea Patterson—”

  ※

  It actually took almost two hours, but the Embassy’s hidden cameras had managed to track the black van all the way to a private air terminal at Cairo International Airport. From there the group apparently boarded a small jet bound for Marseille, France.

  “I hope you’re packed and ready to go, Ramon. Looks like our next stop is the south of France.” Gavin grabbed his phone out of his pocket and keyed in Sanders’ number, not even bothering to check the time. The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

  “Gavin, tell me you’ve got some good news,” came the gruff voice on the other end of the line.

  “I’m not sure yet whether it’s good or bad, Bob, but the video you got us shows Andy and her analyst being kidnapped at gunpoint, then driven to the airport, where they were placed aboard a private jet headed for Marseille. Maverick wouldn’t by any chance be available to give us a lift over there, would he?”

  “Maverick?” Sanders asked, then chuckled. “Oh, you mean Jimmy, the F-15 pilot. Don’t tell me you fell for that whole ‘Pete Mitchell’ routine of his?”

  Gavin suddenly felt like an idiot. Sometimes he could be so gullible. “Naw, just going along with the joke. But is he still in the area?”

  “I understand his little warbird is down for repairs. Blew a tire when you two landed, so h
e’s kinda stuck on the side of the road for now, waiting for Triple A to bring him a spare. But that wouldn’t matter, anyway. Only two seats on that bus, and I would assume you’ll be taking Ramon along with you?”

  “Uh, yeah, I forgot about that—”

  “No problem. Look, I just checked the schedule. There’s a commercial flight pulling out of Cairo International in ninety minutes, direct for Marseille. Do you think you two can make it?”

  Gavin looked up at Ramon. “Can you make a flight out of the main airport in ninety minutes?”

  “Sure. My place is out in Heliopolis, right next to the airport. I’ll call ahead and have my wife pack a bag.”

  Gavin nodded, turning back to the phone. “We’ll be there, no problem.”

  “Good,” Sanders said. “Don’t worry about the hotel. I’ll take care of that. In fact, I’ll leave you checked in for the next few days, just in case anyone’s looking. For all they’ll know, you’ll still be in Cairo.”

  “Good idea. Oh, and Bob, what should I do about my gun? Leave it at Ramon’s place, maybe?”

  “No, just bring your little peashooter with you. When you get to the airport, wave that little piece of paper I arranged for you at the guy manning the main security gate—Ramon will know where that is—and he’ll run you on through. And if your luggage is too big to fit in the overheads, just show that same document to whoever’s at the gate and they’ll stow it up front so you can hit the ground running as soon as you land. I’ll have someone meet you at the gate in France when you touch down. Any questions?”

  “No, I think we’re good.”

  “Super. Like I said before, feel free to call me anytime you need something. Every second that goes by puts Andy more and more at risk. So I guess that means I should shut up and let you guys get moving.”

  “We’re already out the door, boss. Next stop Marseille.”

  14

  Marseille, France