by Overton, Max
"Are you all right, lass?"
"I'm fine, Dafs." Dani came close to the bars on her own side of the concrete wall and reached out with one hand. Daffyd squeezed her hand gently before the guard barked out an order for them to desist.
Daffyd scowled at the guard and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Who is this Colonel Sarraj anyway? He seems to be army rather than police."
"And how did he know we were in Egypt illegally?"
"While you're at it, who's Hafiz and how did he find that out? I presume he's working for Sarraj, but was he sent specifically to find us or was that pure chance?"
"He must have been sent to find us. Nothing we said could lead him to the conclusion we were illegals."
"So how did he know about us?" Daffyd asked.
"I don't know."
They each contemplated their fate for a while before Dani said, "It can only have been Marc. Marc and Muammar. They've been caught."
"What, and blabbed about us? I don't believe it. The buggers."
"Don't be too hard on them, Dafs. We don't know the circumstances. They might have been threatened or...or worse."
"Think they'll do that with us?"
"What could they possibly want with us? They'll probably just deport us back to England."
"I suppose that wouldn't be so bad."
"Except it doesn't get me my golden scarab." Dani sighed and turned away, pacing the length of her bare cell a couple of times before returning to the bars. "I'm sorry, Dafs. That sounds very self-centred but it was always my purpose and all I've done is lead you into trouble. If you'd stayed at home you'd be safe and..."
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world, lass. Before the Syrian expedition I was just an old stick-in-the-mud lecturer, the butt of student jokes, but you dragged me kicking and screaming into the real world. You've broadened my horizons and...well, all I'm saying is, I'm glad to be here with you."
"Thank you, Dafs," Dani whispered. "It helps having you here."
There was an awkward silence, broken at last by Daffyd shuffling his feet and clearing his throat. "Now if I could only get you and Marc to stop calling me Daffy..."
Dani laughed. "He calls you Daffy--I call you Dafs--and it's a term of endearment on my part. But if you'd rather I didn't..."
"No, I er, sort of like it from you, lass."
The guards turned the lights off in the cell block shortly after and they sought the dubious comfort of their respective pallets. One good thing about the darkness was that they could use the primitive facilities--a battered bucket in one corner--in relative privacy. The mattresses were thin and lumpy and harboured vermin of some sort--they could feel something crawling over them--but the discomfort was not enough to keep Dani awake. After a few words tossed back and forth between the cells, she yawned a 'good night' and went to sleep. Daffyd lay awake a while longer, though a smile creased his face as he tossed and turned, and as the first faint fumbling of the sun's early rays lifted the skirts of the night sky above Luxor, he slept.
The soldiers came for them mid-morning and took them to a windowless room where they sat on hard upright chairs on one side of a small table under the unfriendly gaze of a burly guard. They sat in silence and waited, trying to ignore their pangs of hunger and growing thirst and looking uneasily at a pair of iron rings bolted to the table. At last, the door opened and Colonel Sarraj walked in, accompanied by a young man dressed in the uniform of an Egyptian army lieutenant. The two men sat down and contemplated the prisoners.
Daffyd broke the silence. "I must protest our treatment, Colonel Sarraj. We have not been convicted of any crime yet we are treated outrageously. Why, we haven't even been fed yet, and we're both thirsty."
"That will be remedied, Dr Rhys-Williams, in return for a little cooperation," Sarraj said.
"Why the hell should we cooperate? You have a duty of care."
"This is not England. You are criminals facing charges that attract severe penalties, so it would be in your best interests to cooperate."
"We want to see a solicitor."
"Again, this is not England. That is not going to happen."
"Damn it..."
"What exactly is it that you want, Colonel?" Dani asked.
"Thank you, Dr Hanser." Sarraj consulted a notebook. "Perhaps you could explain something you said last night."
"I don't recall saying anything..."
"On board the ferry. You said, 'It's there. The tomb is directly west of here.' Dr Rhys-Williams then says it is too dark to see anything, to which you reply that there's a boat on shore and men climbing the cliffs to the pylon. What did you mean, Dr Hanser?"
"How did you...ah, your Mr Hafiz?"
"I'm waiting, Dr Hanser."
Dani shrugged. "It was nothing. I'd been dozing on the upper deck and I must have been dreaming. I probably just said something I'd seen in the dream."
"What is the scarab?"
"In what context?" Dani asked. "The sacred scarab of the ancient Egyptians was a symbol of..."
"You said 'the scarab has left me'."
"Probably just something from my dream."
"And the golden scarab?"
Dani shook her head.
Sarraj leaned across and whispered something to the young lieutenant, who got up and left the room. The Colonel then leaned back in his chair and examined his nails, taking out a nail file and trimming one or two. After a few minutes, the door opened and the lieutenant entered, bearing with him a tray with a steaming cup of fragrant coffee and a buttered croissant.
"Ah, just what I need," Sarraj said. "Sometimes my duties keep me so busy I forget to eat." He sipped the coffee, savouring the hot brew, before biting through the thinly-crusted croissant. Butter dripped down his chin, and Sarraj dabbed at it with a clean white handkerchief while he chewed. "Delightful. Now, where were we? Ah yes, the golden scarab."
Daffyd's stomach growled audibly and he glared at Sarraj. "This is a puerile stunt, Colonel. Do you imagine we will crack just because we're hungry and you eat in front of us?"
Sarraj took another bite and sipped his coffee. "Perhaps just a reminder that all I desire is a little cooperation. Answer my questions and we can all enjoy some breakfast. What is the golden scarab?"
"Get stuffed."
Sarraj smiled and finished his croissant and coffee, instructing the lieutenant to place the tray on the ground. He wiped his fingers clean of the last few crumbs and smears of butter and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief.
"The golden scarab is an artefact from the Eighteenth dynasty, supposedly given by the gods of ancient Egypt to a woman called Scarab."
"If you know, then what was all this rigmarole?" Daffyd demanded.
"The golden scarab is mentioned in the Syrian account, but why should it be of concern to you today?"
"Who says it is?"
"One of your students in England. He thinks you have come to Egypt to find it, Dr Hanser--to find it, and a tomb. What do you say to that?"
"I say you can go and..."
"It's all right." Dani put her hand on Daffyd's arm. "I've never made any secret of the fact that there is an undiscovered tomb and that I wanted to come and search for it. My desire is purely scientific though. If you are looking for someone interested in plundering it, then look no further than Ahmed Bashir, Under-Minister of National History in Syria."
"And the golden scarab?" Sarraj persisted.
"I imagine it's one of the precious objects that will be found within the tomb. If it's there it will go a long way toward authenticating the account."
"So you haven't had it in your possession?"
Dani smiled tiredly. "If I had, then where is it? Everything we had in Syria was confiscated when we were deported. Contact Minister Bashir and ask him."
"Ali Hafiz tells me that an old woman instructed you to contact Nazim Manouk. Why?"
"I don't know. She just said to ask the 'organiser'. Your man suggested the name Nazim as meaning 'organiser'. It
might be Nazim Manouk, or another Nazim."
"You know Nazim Manouk?"
"Know of him, yes. He's Bashir's secretary."
"What were you to ask him? This Nazim organiser?"
"She didn't say."
Sarraj stared at Dani. "Ali Hafiz says he did not see any old woman."
"I can't help what your man sees or doesn't see."
"How did you enter Egypt?"
Dani debated whether to reveal details and glanced at Daffyd, who shrugged. "We came across the Libyan border."
"A hazardous journey. You were helped?"
"A young Libyan man helped us. He left us here and has no doubt returned to his home."
"I regret not. Ali Hafiz tells me that this man and your colleague Dr Marc Andrews died in the desert."
"Ah, sweet Jesus," Daffyd groaned. "Those poor young lads. Are you sure?"
Dani dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "How does he know?"
"He was escorting them to Luxor on my instructions. They became violent and crashed the vehicle, escaping into the desert. Ali Hafiz barely made it out alive, and he is certain that they could not survive." Sarraj offered Dani his butter-smeared handkerchief. She accepted, blew her nose and dried her tears. "It appears, Dr Hanser, as if your ill-considered adventure has cost the life of one of your friends already. I beg you not to risk the life of your other friend, Dr Rhys-Williams."
Dani clutched the handkerchief tightly and stared at the colonel. "What do you mean?"
"Just that I must be rigorous in my enquiries, and I would hate to think that ill-considered stubbornness on your part might endanger his health. I will have answers to my questions, Dr Hanser."
"I might remind you that we are British citizens," Daffyd growled. "Even if we have broken the law, you cannot do as you like. There are rules and conventions. When the British Consulate hears..."
"The British Consulate is unaware of your presence in Egypt, Dr Rhys-Williams. They cannot protest what they do not know."
"Surely you are a civilised man," Dani whispered, shocked.
"How little you know me. Shall we start again? But this time you will answer my questions completely and truthfully."
"We already have," Daffyd said.
"We shall see." Sarraj nodded to the burly guard who, with the assistance of the lieutenant, produced two pairs of handcuffs and two short lengths of chain and fastened both Dani and Daffyd securely to the rings bolted to the table. Daffyd tugged on his handcuffs experimentally, rattling the chain through the ringbolt, but could not budge it.
"The table is metal beneath a wood veneer," Sarraj said. "And bolted to the floor. Now, Dr Hanser, let's try again--where is the golden scarab?"
"I told you, it's probably something in Scarab's tomb."
Sarraj held up his left hand, closed his fingers into a fist, and then extended the little finger. At once, the burly guard stepped up behind Daffyd, and before he could react, grabbed his left hand and bent the little finger back.
Daffyd yelled, pain rapidly overtaking the surprise. "Oh, Jesus...you bastard...you've broken my bloody finger...ahh." He jerked away as far as his bonds would let him and tried to protect his finger with his other hand, though the slightest touch sent waves of pain through him.
"I think you'll find it's just dislocated, Dr Rhys-Williams, though still painful. Dislocation has certain advantages in that I can have my man do the same to all ten fingers before moving on to breaking them. I suspect that will hurt much more. Now, Dr Hanser, try again. Where is the golden scarab?"
"Don't hurt him again and I'll tell you," Dani pleaded. "I found the scarab in the mud outside the first chamber in Syria, but it was taken from me by Bashir before we were deported. I don't know where it is now...no, please..." Dani jerked on her chains as Sarraj held up his left ring finger and the burly guard stepped forward again. "It's the truth," she cried out. "No...don't..."
Daffyd yelled incoherently, tears streaming from his eyes as his second finger was bent back with an audible crack. "Oh, bugger me, boyo...that fuckin' hurts."
"What's the point of asking me questions if you don't believe my answers, you bastard?" Dani screamed. "I've told you the truth; it was taken from me by Bashir. He's got it."
"Why did you come to Egypt?"
"To find the scarab and get it back. That's the truth of it."
"You imagined that Minister Bashir would just hand it back? After taking it from you? Such a valuable relic?"
"No...I don't know. But I had to try. It's mine; I found it."
"On a Syrian archaeological site, Dr Hanser. The Syrians acted correctly in confiscating such a precious object."
"He didn't believe it was valuable. He only took it because I had it--wanted it."
"How could he not know? It is called the golden scarab for a reason, isn't it?"
"It looks like a rock...no, wait..." Dani tugged at her chains as Sarraj started to lift his left hand again. "I'm telling the truth."
Sarraj lowered his hand. "Explain."
Dani drew in a ragged breath. "I don't know if I can, but please, hear me out. The account in Syria spoke of a golden scarab that only the woman Scarab and her companions could see. Anybody else saw only a rock. Well, it's the same with the one I found. The expedition members saw a carved golden scarab, but all Bashir could see--and other people--was a rock. I...I can't explain it unless...well, unless the gods are protecting it."
"You try my patience, Dr Hanser. You think you can fob me off with fairy tales?" Sarraj lifted his left hand again and the burly guard moved forward. "I think we'll break a finger this time."
"No!" Dani screamed. "Wait, please, I can prove it..."
"Remind them of the pain that awaits, but do not break the finger."
The guard took Daffyd's left hand and bent his dislocated fingers forward, eliciting a roar of pain from the Welshman and agonised sobs from Dani.
"You were saying, Dr Hanser?"
"I can prove it, but you'll have to get the golden scarab here. If Minister Bashir has it, you'll have to find him and persuade him."
Sarraj sat and looked at Dani, ignoring the muttered imprecations flooding out of Daffyd's mouth. After a minute, he nodded and turned to the lieutenant. "Bring them both--Bashir and Manouk." The man got up and left the room.
"You have them already?" Dani asked. She considered the implications. "You're in it together. You're Bashir's man."
"I am no one's man, Dr Hanser. The Minister and I have an understanding."
They sat in comparative silence for many minutes before Sarraj looked at his watch, got up, and left the room. Despite the presence of the burly guard, Dani and Daffyd felt the tension in the room ease.
"Oh, God, Daffyd, I'm sorry. How's your hand?"
"Feels like I slammed a car door on it," Daffyd said. "I could do with some pain-killers but I daresay I'm not going to get them."
Dani looked over her shoulder at the guard. "He needs medicine, for pain. You get?" The guard ignored her and Dani tried again, dredging her memory for the Arabic words. There was no response and she tried the words for 'water' and 'thirst' with equal result. She sighed and turned back. "Sorry, Daffyd."
"You think you could call me Dafs again?" He scraped up a weak smile. "It's not your fault, lass. The bugger was always going to hurt us and better me than you."
"What are we going to do...Dafs?"
"I rather hoped you might have a plan."
"I do, but it involves us being on the other side of that door."
Daffyd grunted, and stared at his swollen, bruised fingers, the pain throbbing up his arm to the point of his jaw. "I've got a plan that involves my hands and Sarraj's neck, but I'm scarcely likely to be able to implement it."
"That's it, Dafs. Positive thinking."
They considered their own thoughts for a few minutes more.
"I hope Bashir confirms what happened and shows Sarraj the rock," Dani said.
"How's that going to help, lass? A rock is a r
ock, and he's never going to believe it's really the scarab."
"I suppose I'll just have to show them then."
"What? How?"
"Scarab showed Jeheshua when he didn't believe."
"By praying to Atum and the Nine, for God's sake. Those were ancient Egyptian gods, not...you don't really believe in them, do you? That they actually exist?"
"You've seen for yourself how it disguises itself. Does a rock do that by its own power...or is it perhaps just the power of persuasion? Or something else?"
"Put like that..." Daffyd tried to scratch his head with his right hand, but the action dragged the chain through the iron ring on the table and scraped his damaged fingers against the wood veneer. He gasped with the pain, panting until the throbbing died down.
"What if it doesn't work? You...pray...to the gods and nothing happens?"
"Then--as our American cousins so delicately phrase it--we're screwed."
Daffyd grinned. "Dani, lass, I'd never have thought it of you."
Sarraj returned half an hour later, impatiently shepherding Bashir into the cell, with Nazim trailing behind. The Syrian Minister stared at the captives, his lips curling in distaste at Daffyd's bruised and battered hand. He sat in the chair indicated by Sarraj, while Nazim stood near the door, averting his eyes.
"You are a fool, Dr Hanser," Bashir said. "You should have just quietly stayed at home, safe and content. Now you will suffer."
"Nice to see you too," Dani murmured. "I misjudged you."
"How so?"
"I thought you were motivated merely by avarice. Now I see you have a vicious streak and think nothing of murder."
"Murder? I see only injuries sustained while resisting arrest. You will be jailed and deported, nothing more."
"Marc Andrews and our friend Muammar are dead in the desert as a result of your partner's actions. That makes you responsible too."
"Michel? What is this?" Bashir looked at Sarraj in surprise.
Sarraj shrugged. "Accidents happen. They tried to escape and ran off into the desert. My men could not find them so no doubt they died. It is no loss, Ahmed. They were not even officially in the country, so their demise can be laid at no one's door."