by Paul Sussman
Another gust of wind blew over them, stronger than before, making the dune behind hiss and whisper. The noise of Jemal's worry beads slowed and then petered out altogether. Daniel was biting his lip.
'Your arrival at once both complicated the situation and offered a potential way out of it,' said Squires to Tara. 'You were obviously suspicious about your father's death and there was a danger you might start kicking up a fuss. At the same time there was the possibility that, if properly handled, you might be able to help us locate the missing piece and, subsequently, restore it to Sayf al-Tha'r without him ever becoming aware of our own involvement. And that's exactly how it worked out. You played your part perfectly.'
Tara's eyes were burning with resentment. She felt violated, abused. Daniel glanced briefly back at her, then turned away again.
'Admittedly it was touch and go for a while. Had you just let them take the piece at Saqqara everything would have been a lot easier. As it was, you insisted on running away with it, which forced us into a very delicate game. If you'd gone to the authorities or come to us at the embassy, Sayf al-Tha'r would have backed off immediately. We therefore had to persuade you to go it alone. Hence our little charade about an antiquities smuggling ring.'
'Samali,' she groaned.
'One of our operatives, yes. And a very fine performance he gave too.'
'Jesus Christ.'
Her shoulders slumped. Khalifa wanted to go to her, comfort her, but sensed the moment wasn't right and stayed where he was.
'Even then our fortunes were balanced on a knife edge,' continued Squires. 'The whole thing could still have fallen apart. The inspector caused us more than a few worries and it was by no means easy keeping you under control, Miss Mullray. Although fortunately we had someone on the inside and that rather helped things along.'
He smiled, but said no more. The soldiers had finished laying out the lines of black-robed bodies and were now standing around aimlessly at the edge of the camp. Everything, suddenly, had gone very quiet and very still. There was something expectant in the air, a tension. Squires's final words seemed to repeat over and over in Tara's head. Someone on the inside. Someone on the inside. Slowly her face lifted. Already pale, it had assumed a sort of horrified transparency.
'Oh no,' she whispered. 'Oh, please God, no.' She looked over at Daniel. 'It was you, wasn't it?'
He stared out across the excavation, face blank, eyes roving over the drifts of twisted corpses.
'You knew,' she whispered. 'All along you knew.'
He continued gazing at the army for a moment, then slowly turned to her. There was guilt in his eyes, and regret, but behind them something harder, more brutal. She felt, suddenly, as if she didn't know him.
'I'm sorry, Tara,' he said, his tone expressionless, 'but it was my concession. They were going to give it back, you see. Let me excavate again.'
She stared at him, too shocked to move. She was dimly aware of the others, especially Khalifa, who seemed to have come forward half a step, but even he felt far away. It was as though she was standing in a tunnel with Daniel at the other end and everyone else on the outside. She opened her mouth to try to speak, but no words came out, just a sort of breathless choke. He stared at her for a moment, then turned away again, gazing down at the confusion of fragmented corpses below.
'When?' she managed to whisper.
'When did I get involved?' He shrugged. 'About a year ago. They came to me, told me about the army, how they wanted to use it to lure Sayf al-Tha'r back to Egypt. Said if I helped them I could dig in the valley again. I hadn't excavated for six months by that point. I would have done anything. Anything.'
A momentary spasm flashed across his face, as if there was a part of him that despised what he was saying. It was gone almost immediately and the coldness returned. He stooped and picked up a dagger, the one Khalifa had fought with earlier, turning it over in his hands.
'It was me who came up with the idea of a soldier surviving the disaster. I remembered the Dymmachus graffito in KV9, and created a story around him. I knew of an existing tomb that was perfect, way out in the hills. Did all the work myself. A little bit each day, slowly covering the walls.' He smiled.
'I was happy, in a funny sort of way. Being down there on my own. Painting the walls, creating the text, building up the story. Really happy. And the end result . . . I surprised even myself. I remember the day I finished, just sitting down there and staring at it and thinking, this is a masterpiece. A bloody masterpiece. Although, of course, I can see now it was just a bit too good. And I should have noticed the shabtis were the wrong date. Stupid of me. Careless.' He looked at Khalifa, who stared back at him, stony faced.
'There was a dagger?' said the detective.
'Ah, you saw that, did you?' Daniel grinned. 'I couldn't resist it. The leather binding was loose so I pulled it away and scratched Dymmachus son of Menendes on the metal underneath, in Greek letters. It was just a bit of fun, really. An extra piece of authentication.'
Khalifa dragged on his cigarette, shaking his head contemptuously. There was a long pause.
'That was all I was supposed to do,' said Daniel eventually. 'Just create the tomb. But then the piece of text went missing and you came on the scene, and they found out I knew you. They wanted me to contact you, watch you. I wasn't happy about it, but then what could I do? It was my concession. And, to be honest, I wanted to know what had gone wrong as much as they did. The tomb was my creation, you see. I was . . . completely involved with it. So I left the note at your father's apartment, knowing you'd recognize the writing.'
Tears had started to trickle down Tara's cheeks. She felt as if her clothes had been ripped off and her skin too, leaving her completely naked, allowing everyone to see inside her. She hugged herself.
'If you'd just let them have the piece at Saqqara everything would have been OK,' he said. 'I tried to tell you. But you wouldn't listen. And after that . . .' He raised his hands helplessly.
Tara's tears were coming faster now. There was a broken, disjointed look on her face, as though her features had somehow fragmented and been rearranged in the wrong order.
'You knew about Samali?' Her voice was hoarse.
Daniel nodded. 'As soon as I'd found out what the piece was I called Squires. From the zoo, when I said I was calling my hotel. He told me what to do.'
'And going to Luxor. Walking up into the hills. You knew Dravic would be there? That you were taking us into a trap?'
'What could I do? I had to get the text back to them. It was the only way.'
Suddenly she heard her father's voice echoing out of the past, filling her head: 'You get the impression he'd cut off his own hand if he thought it might further his knowledge of the subject. Or anyone else's hand, for that matter. He's a fanatic.'
'Why didn't you just tell me?' she said, choking.
He dropped to his haunches and laid the dagger back on the ground carefully, not wanting to damage it in any way.
'I tried to,' he said. 'When we were standing on top of El Qurn. Do you remember? But when it came to it I couldn't. I was in too deep.'
He looked up at her and for a brief moment there was something approaching genuine sorrow in his eyes.
'I never meant you to get hurt, Tara,' he said, the vaguest hint of gentleness creeping into his voice. 'When we saw Dravic up on the hills . . . even at that late stage I had second thoughts. I knew they'd have someone watching the tomb, that if we went down there we'd be caught. That's why I tried to go on my own, to leave you out of it. But you wouldn't let me. You insisted on coming.'
'All those things you said . . .' She was trembling uncontrollably. 'All that shit about still caring for me . . .'
'It wasn't shit, Tara. I meant it. It's just that . . .'
He stared at her for a moment and then came to his feet. Suddenly, as if a light had been switched off, the warmth in his eyes was gone and there was nothing, just an icy blankness.
'What?' she whispered. 'It's just th
at what, Daniel?'
He shrugged. 'My concession is more important.'
For a moment she stared at him, silent, crushed. Then, with a guttural cry of pain and betrayal, she flew at him, clawing at his face, scratching the skin.
'What sort of person are you?' she screamed, hysterical. 'What sort of monster that you could do something like that? I could have been raped, you bastard! Killed! And for what? For the sake of a few dead bodies! For the sake of your fucking concession! For that you'd stand by and watch me die! You're sick! You're not human! You're . . . disgusting! You disgust me! Disgust me!'
He grabbed her wrists and held her away from him, struggling with her. She fought for a moment longer, and then, suddenly, her anger drained away and she staggered back against the rock, gasping for breath, face wet with tears.
'You bastard,' she gasped. 'You filthy, lying bastard. I could have been killed.'
Khalifa went over and laid his hand gently on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. Oates and Squires exchanged a brief glance, and Jemal's worry beads began clacking again. Daniel raised his hand to his face, glaring at her.
For a long moment no-one spoke or moved. Then there was the crunch of approaching footsteps and Massey came up.
'Did I miss something?' he asked, looking at each of them in turn.
'Dr Lacage and Miss Mullray have just been . . . discussing the events of the past week,' said Squires. The American noted the welts on Daniel's face and burst out laughing.
'Jesus, looks like she gave him a right pussy-whipping! You should give her a job!'
The wind had started up again, blowing steadily down the valley, flurrying sand around their feet and ankles. Oates looked at his watch.
'We should be going, sir.'
'Righty-ho,' nodded Squires. 'There's just a couple of details to round off. Why don't the three of you wait for me in the Chinook, eh?'
Oates, Jemal and Massey turned and began walking towards the helicopter. Squires smoothed back his hair, which had been blown about by the wind.
'Not a great deal more to tell you, really,' he said. 'Once Dravic had the location of the army Sayf al-Tha'r started flying in men and equipment from Libya. We just let them get on with it; monitored the whole thing by satellite. We got word he'd crossed the border a couple of days ago and initially we planned to move in tomorrow evening. As it was, Inspector Khalifa's little odyssey forced us to pounce a day early. The Egyptian air force intercepted his helicopters as they came over the border. We took their place and . . . well, I think you know the rest. Sayf al-Tha'r is dead, his organization is destroyed, the world is for the moment a safer place.'
Khalifa sighed wearily. 'And you think that's the end? You think that by killing him you solve the problem? There are dozens of Sayf al-Tha'rs out there. Hundreds of them. Maybe it's time you asked yourselves why.' He stared at Squires for a moment and then, shaking his head, took a couple of steps forward, gazing out at the rows of corpses lying beside the crater. 'And what'll happen to them?' he asked.
'The bodies? Oh, we'll bury them somewhere out in the desert. Somewhere they'll never be found.'
'And the army?' Khalifa nodded at the jumbled morass of bodies.
'We'll leave it as it is,' said Squires, waving a hand dismissively. 'Let the desert cover it over again. In a few months it will have disappeared. And then, who knows, maybe one day someone else will come along and make the greatest discovery in the history of archaeology. Or the greatest rediscovery.'
He winked at Daniel, who stared at him impassively. Khalifa's cigarette had gone out and, taking the matches from his pocket, he tried to light one. The wind was blowing too hard, however, and he was unable to produce a flame. He struck one, two, three and then gave up.
'And that, as they say, is well and truly that,' said Squires with a sigh. 'It's been a difficult road, but it all seems to have worked out very nicely in the end. Indeed, in a curious way the saga of the missing piece probably helped us. Sayf al-Tha'r was so desperate to get it back that it never once occurred to him the tomb itself might be a fake. So in many ways we owe you a sincere debt of gratitude.'
He smiled warmly and crunched the remainder of his sweet.
'I'm going back to the helicopter now,' he said, looking over at Daniel again. 'I'll leave the final farewells to you. Wouldn't want to get in the way or anything. Miss Mullray, Inspector Khalifa, it's been a pleasure. Really it has.'
He nodded at the two of them and, raising his hand in farewell, set off across the sand, hair blowing in the wind.
'So what now?' asked Tara.
'Now', said Khalifa, 'I think Dr Lacage is going to kill us.'
43
THE WESTERN DESERT
Daniel swung the gun from his shoulder and pointed it at them.
'There was no way they could let us go,' said Khalifa. 'Not after all they've told us. We know too much. They couldn't risk it getting out.'
'Daniel?' Tara's voice was bewildered, lost.
'Like the inspector says, you know too much.' His voice was hard, his eyes empty. 'I can't let anything get in the way, not after I've come this far.'
He pointed with the muzzle, indicating they should move down to the edge of the trench.
'Perhaps I should have said no when they first asked me to help them,' he said. 'Not got involved. But then it didn't have to end like this, did it? If the piece hadn't gone missing everything would have been all right. Who knows, Tara, maybe we would have met again under different circumstances.'
They had reached the trench. He motioned them to turn round so their backs were to him. A sea of broken corpses stretched away in front of them, rising and falling and swelling and churning, as if twisted by some mysterious current. Beside her Tara could hear Khalifa reciting a prayer. Involuntarily her hand came out and clutched his.
'I don't expect you to understand,' said Daniel. 'I don't really understand myself. All I know is that it was unbearable not being allowed to excavate any more. Watching from the sidelines while other people got the concessions to dig the valley. My valley. People who didn't know a fraction of what I know. Feel a fraction of the passion. Stupid people. Ignorant people. And all the while the fear that maybe they'd find something. Discover a new tomb. Beat me to it. It was . . . horrible.'
The wind was tugging angrily at Tara's hair, although she was hardly aware of it.
I'm going to be shot, she thought. I'm going to die.
'I dream of it, you know,' said Daniel, smiling faintly. 'Finding a new tomb. Dravic was right. It is an addiction. Imagine it – breaking through a doorway into a chamber that was sealed five centuries before the birth of Christ. Imagine the intensity of something like that. Nothing could ever come close to it.'
Away to their right there was a roar and a whine as the blades of the Chinook started to rotate, cutting at the wind. Other helicopters were also starting their engines. Soldiers began filing back through the camp and clambering inside them.
'It's funny,' Daniel shouted, raising his voice to be heard above the scream of the motors and the hiss of the wind, 'when we were in the tomb, you and me, Tara, when I was looking at the images on the walls, translating the text, even though I knew it was a fake, that it was me who'd done it all, there was still a part of me that felt it was real. Like I'd discovered something truly unique. Something wonderful. Wonderful things.'
He began laughing.
'That's what Carter said, you know. When he looked into the tomb of Tutankhamun for the first time. Carnarvon said, "What can you see?" and Carter replied, "Wonderful things." That's why I have to keep digging, you see. Because there are so many wonderful things still to find.'