by Peter Vegas
“Your mobile,” said Mary. “We tracked the signal. Sam, I wanted to help. I still do.”
“And you just happened to have a helicopter standing by?” Sam’s head was spinning. He felt like he was seeing Mary for the first time.
“Sam, we’re going to land in a minute, and I’ll explain everything then, I promise.”
That was good news, because Sam had just realized he was about to throw up.
* * *
THE LIGHTS OF A SMALL town appeared in the distance. Sam guessed it was Al Minya. He didn’t know if it was the whack on the nose or the escape from the speeding truck, but he knew there was no way he would be able to hold on that long. Thankfully, seconds later, the chopper plunged into a gully. Making a hurried excuse about needing to take a leak, Sam kicked the door open and jumped out. It was only then he registered that the pilot was Mary’s Egyptian minder, Bassem.
Sam stumbled blindly across the stony ground, not waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Waves of nausea rolled through his head, but all he could think about was getting far enough away so Mary and Bassem wouldn’t hear him being sick.
A boot-sized boulder brought Sam’s journey to an ungainly end. He tripped and landed face-first. What he expected next was vomit, but instead he lay there, head throbbing as if he’d just gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer. After a couple of minutes the nausea passed. All Sam could hear was the sound of his breathing, short, labored breaths like he’d just run a marathon or jumped from a moving truck onto a ladder dangling from a helicopter.
When he finally sat up, Sam realized he was lost. The total blackness of the desert had swallowed the chopper, and he had no idea which direction he’d come from. The easiest thing would have been to call out for Mary, but Sam was too proud for that. He wanted to get back and find out what was going on, but he wasn’t going to call out like a nervous kid.
He got to his feet and moved slowly in the direction he thought he had come from. It turned out to be a decent guess, because seconds later a tiny ball of light appeared up ahead. The flame from Bassem’s match lit his face for only an instant, but it was enough for Sam to get his bearings. As he increased his pace, he was glad he’d kept his mouth shut, and a few moments later he was even more thankful.
He covered the ground more cautiously than he had on the outward journey. A gentle breeze was blowing down the gully from the chopper, bringing with it the scent of Bassem’s cigarette along with the familiar tones of Mary’s voice. She was quietly talking on the cell phone, almost in a whisper. It made Sam stop and drop to his knees. Why would she do that out here in the middle of nowhere? Unless it was Sam who wasn’t meant to hear. . . .
Sam strained to try to pick up her conversation. He caught only a few fragments, but it was enough.
“No, I don’t think he suspects a thing. . . . He’s leading us straight to his uncle.”
As Sam got to his feet, he was suddenly aware of the excruciatingly loud crunching sounds the stones under his shoes were making. Keeping his eyes focused in the direction of Mary’s voice, he began walking backward. It was too dark to run, but the voice in Sam’s head was screaming at him to get away from that helicopter as fast as he could.
“Sam, are you okay?” Mary’s voice boomed out through the blackness. Then a thick beam of light erupted from nearby. Bassem was using a searchlight. Luckily, he’d aimed it in the wrong direction.
Now Sam ran. He did it at a half crouch, his arms out in front to stop him from running into trees and rocks. Behind him he heard Mary yelling his name. With every step he expected the searchlight to swing down the gully and lock on to him, but it didn’t. The reason became apparent as the chopper’s engines whined to life.
Sam ran on, desperate for some kind of cover. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out small objects, but nothing that was any use to him. The chopper’s engines reached maximum speed, and the abrupt change in sound told Sam it had lifted off. Time was running out.
Just ahead the gully opened out into a large, flat area. Sam ran on till he hit ankle-deep mud, tripped, and fell.
The large, flat area he’d seen was the Nile River.
As he extracted himself from the slimy river gunk, Sam looked back to see the lights of the helicopter drift up over the hill toward Al Minya. He’d bought himself some time, but it wouldn’t take them long to work out he hadn’t gone that way.
Sam spotted the outline of a tree trunk farther along the riverbank. He considered searching for something else, but the sound of the helicopter returning killed that idea.
Bassem retraced his flight path, then cruised slowly down the gully. He drifted out over the river, turned, and used the spotlight to sweep the bank. It didn’t take him long to zero in on the log.
The chopper nosed forward for a closer look. Loose stones and sand were kicked up as it circled slowly around the rotting log, but there was no sign of life.
After that, Bassem and Mary seemed to lose interest. The helicopter flew up and down the river’s edge one more time before banking sharply and powering off into the night.
The log had been an obvious hiding place. That’s why Sam had known Bassem would check it out, and that’s why he’d known he couldn’t hide anywhere near it. Instead, he’d gone underground. Well, under the mud. It hadn’t taken long to dig a shallow trench and then pile the mud back over himself, leaving just a small hole for his nose.
Sam lay there listening to the sound of the chopper fading away. He was surprised they’d given up so easily. Were they going for reinforcements? The thought propelled Sam from his slimy grave. He waded into the river to wash the mud and blood off himself. Sunrise was still a few hours away, but it would take a while to get into town. Mary and Bassem knew he was headed downstream to Al Minya, but he had no choice. That was where his uncle had gone, and that was where he had to go to pick up his trail. Sam was just glad he’d listened to his instincts and not told Mary exactly where he was heading.
She had been playing him all along.
Sam gave up the cleanup attempt and dove into the Nile. Why walk? The river was going the same way he needed to. As he drifted in the gentle current, Sam’s mind drifted farther, back to the Charles River in Boston.
Sam had joined the rowing squad as a way to get off the school grounds, but out on the water he had found a new kind of freedom. On the early morning training sessions, in his one-man craft, he felt like he could keep rowing all the way to Boston Harbor and beyond. It wasn’t about escaping from school; it was the feeling that his life hadn’t turned out the way it was meant to. Out on the water he felt like he had the power to change everything if he just kept going. And now, lying there in the cool embrace of the Nile, he felt that same sense of calm. Calm that came from knowing he was on the right path. That everything would work out. Mary might have known which town he was heading to, but it was a big place. It would be hard to find someone unless you knew exactly where to look. Thanks to the stop for gasoline, Sam knew exactly where to look, so he lay still and let the Nile carry him down to Al Minya, and to room 18 of the Nefertiti Motel.
13
WE WERE EXPECTING YOU
SAM SPENT HALF OF HIS soggy cash on an I LOVE EGYPT T-shirt, a cheap knockoff of an Adidas sports bag, and two newspapers. He saved the rest for a taxi.
Sitting by the Nile in the early morning sun waiting for his pants to dry, it had occurred to Sam that the best way to get to the Nefertiti Motel was by taxi. The driver would know exactly where to go, and turning up by taxi would also add to the illusion he wanted to create. Plus, it would keep him off the streets—and out of Mary’s sight.
Al Minya seemed to be a miniature version of Cairo, with rows and rows of mismatched concrete buildings desperately in need of a wash or a new coat of paint.
As the taxi rattled down the narrow streets, Sam tried to tap back into some of the confidence he’d felt floating down the Nile the night before. For a while he’d felt invincible, as if nothing and no o
ne could stop him from getting to his uncle. But now, in the harsh light of day in the back of the taxi, the hopelessness of his situation seemed to crowd back in on him.
Sam fingered the metal scarab beetle hanging around his neck. The last time he’d been in a taxi had been with Hadi, the last person he had truly been able to trust. Mary’s betrayal had hit him hard. He’d liked her. A lot. He had taken her help at face value. The idea that she had been using him cut deep. It also brought home to Sam just what he was up against. He was collecting an ever growing list of enemies. The police, the man with the beard in his uncle’s apartment, the man who’d been waiting downstairs, and now Mary and her silent giant. But where did they all fit in? What could his uncle be onto that was so important?
Sam tried to work this through in his mind, but the black clouds of despair just grew darker. He wound down the window and earned a sharp scowl from the driver as the outside heat diluted the cool of the cab. Sam didn’t care. He pushed his head out, and hot wind blasted his face. He had to snap himself out of this mood. Burn away the traces of the tears he could feel forming. He was about to check into a motel as a young, seasoned traveler. He wasn’t going to lose it and wander in looking like a crybaby.
* * *
A BRIEF LOOK AROUND THE drab little reception area told Sam that the brochure for the Mighty Nefertiti Motel that he’d seen at the gas station had been made a long time ago. Possibly during the reign of Nefertiti herself. And judging by the wrinkles on the face of the woman eyeing Sam from behind the counter, she had probably known the great queen personally.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a tone that let Sam know that she thought it was highly unlikely.
Sam had gone in trying to project the image of a well-traveled man of the world checking into yet another motel, but he suspected she saw him for what he was: a nervous young kid holding a bag stuffed with newspaper to make it look full.
“I . . .” Sam searched for the words, but they didn’t come. Meanwhile, the woman’s eyebrows began to rise higher and higher up her forehead as she awaited his explanation. “I-I . . . ,” he stammered again. “My uncle . . . Jasper. He told me to come here.”
It was risky, throwing Jasper’s name out like that. If the police or other people on Sam’s trail had beaten him here, this woman would know he was the one they were looking for. But it seemed to have a positive effect on the old lady. Her face softened a fraction as she spoke. “Professor Jasper? You are with the professor?”
Sam nodded. It seemed his uncle had made an attempt to disguise his identity. “Yes. I’m his nephew. I mean student . . . his student.”
The woman banged on the door behind her, then yelled with the kind of volume Sam wouldn’t have guessed she was capable of. “Ahmed! Ahmed, come!”
The door creaked open to reveal a man who looked as old as the woman and in even worse repair.
“We have a visitor, Ahmed. This boy is with the professor.”
Ahmed didn’t appear quite as excited by the news as the old lady did, but he picked up the key she’d slid across the counter and shuffled to the stairs in the corner, motioning for Sam to follow him.
It was an agonizingly slow trip up the stairs and along a balcony that looked over the parking lot. The Mighty Nefertiti wasn’t a big place; Sam could have easily found room 18 himself, but he was forced to shuffle behind one of the world’s slowest bellboys. It wasn’t until they got to the door that Ahmed spoke.
“We were beginning to wonder about the professor,” the old man mumbled as he attempted to get the key in the lock.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Ahmed got the key in on this third attempt. “We haven’t seen him since Saturday,” he said, pushing the door open. “He has yet to pay.”
Now the woman’s reaction to Sam’s arrival made more sense. They’d been worried Jasper had done a runner.
“Perhaps you’re paying for the room now?” inquired Ahmed, confirming Sam’s suspicions.
Sam squeezed past him. “Ah yes, the professor is coming back later today,” he said as he made a show of inspecting the room. “Tomorrow morning at the latest, and he said to tell you that he will be settling the bill in full then.”
The look on Ahmed’s face said he had expected to hear something like that. He left the key on the kitchen bench and shuffled back toward the stairs.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed. The room was almost as big as his uncle’s apartment, and although he had only checked in on Thursday, Jasper had still managed to stamp his unique brand of messiness on it. Clothes and plates were scattered about. Only the table was clear, except for a phone that had been dragged to it from a small shelf on the wall, leaving the cord stretched across the room like a trip wire.
Sam fought the urge to lie back on the bed. That would have been the end of him. He was exhausted, and his body was crying out for sleep, but there was no time.
For a man as smart as Jasper, Sam knew he had zero imagination when it came to hiding places. Sure enough, tucked under the bed between the frame and mattress was a folded piece of paper that opened up to reveal a handmade map featuring the Nile and a series of upside-down triangles.
At least that’s what Sam would have thought before his conversation with the truck driver. Now he knew they meant more.
In the middle of them was a new symbol. A new problem to be solved.
Sam hadn’t expected his uncle to be at the Nefertiti, so he hadn’t been let down, but he had hoped to find a better lead than an obscure map. He searched the rest of the room, checking all the obvious hiding places and some of the not so obvious ones in case his uncle had lifted his game. There was nothing. He didn’t risk returning to the bed. The allure of sleep was far too strong. Instead, Sam sat at the table and planned his next move.
Food was fast becoming a priority. He hadn’t eaten for nearly twenty-four hours. Sam wasn’t surprised to find out the Nefertiti didn’t do room service. Maybe that’s why his uncle had brought the phone to the table. Or was there another reason? The Nefertiti didn’t make money from food, but Sam was sure they charged their guests for phone calls. That meant he could find out exactly who Uncle Jasper had called and when.
* * *
THERE WAS NO SIGN OF the old lady at reception, but a couple of rings of the brass bell roused the aging Ahmed from the back room.
“I’ve been speaking to my professor about the bill,” said Sam, “and he asked me to get a printout of the room charges.”
Ahmed seemed conflicted between the thought of getting paid versus the effort required to print out the bill, but the allure of cold hard cash won him over. He bashed away at the computer keyboard for a couple of minutes. Then the printer beside him whirred into life and cranked out a sheet of paper.
MIGHTY NEFERTITI MOTEL AL MINYA
Room No. 18
Phone Charges
Thu July 23
13;42—Al Minya Museum
Call dur 1.16
Charge—2NGP
Ahmed watched Sam fold the bill and put it in his pocket. “You are paying now?” he asked hopefully.
“I have to wait for the professor to return,” Sam reminded him. “I thought I might do some sightseeing till he gets back. Can you tell me how to get to the Al Minya Museum?”
* * *
THE CULTURAL AND HISTORICAL FOUNDATION of Al Minya had a fancy name, but the building didn’t live up to it. The two-story brick structure looked more like a warehouse, and it took three rings of the doorbell before he heard someone unlocking the door.
Standing in the doorway was a round-faced middle-aged woman wearing a beaming smile that revealed a set of teeth that seemed too big for her mouth. “Well, hello there, deary. Come on in.”
Sam darted through the door, eager to get out of the sweltering midmorning heat. He didn’t think to check if he was being watched.
Even if he had, it was unlikely he would have recognized the figure in sunglasses
who had slipped into the coffee shop across the road.
14
BATHROOM BREAKOUT
IT WASN’T JUST THE FRIENDLY greeting that had caught Sam off guard, it was the English accent.
“We’re not open till two, my dear,” said the woman, still with the oversized smile. “But we don’t get many visitors even then, so you’re welcome to have a look around.”
They were standing in a large, dimly lit room full of glass cases that were filled with the standard museum fare—bits of old pottery, jewelry, and the odd stuffed animal. But Sam didn’t care about any of that.
“What I’m really interested in is boats.”
“Well, I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of boats, my dear, although there is a rather nice model of a pharaoh’s royal yacht next to the cigarette machine.”
“Sorry, I meant old boats. Ships. Ones that might have passed through here during World War Two.”
The woman turned back to Sam, a sly grin on her face. “Oh, I see . . . 1942 in particular?”
Sam nodded. “That’s right. Nineteen forty-two.”
“You must be one of the professor’s students,” she said, striding off toward the wooden staircase in the middle of the room. “This way, dear. I’m Jenny Cole, by the way.”
“Sam,” he said as he raced to keep up. “When did you—”
“Arrive in Al Minya?”
Sam had been about to say, last see the professor.
“Affair of the heart brought me here, dear,” she announced dramatically. “I came to marry the love of my life.”
“So you’ve been here a long time,” said Sam innocently.
Jenny tut-tutted at the comment. “Oh no. I met Habib last year . . . on the Internet.”
“Oh . . . really.” Sam tried not to sound too surprised. “That’s cool.” His response earned a cheerful laugh.
“Not really, dear. He did a runner on me after two months. Took all my money and left me with the wedding debt and his gambling bills.”