The Exodus Quest dk-2

by Will Adams

  'I'm sorry. That's not possible. You must see that. This isn't America. This is Egypt. We do things the Egyptian way. And the Egyptian way is to cooperate. That way everyone benefits. Where are your colleagues?'

  'I want to speak to a lawyer.'

  'Please don't keep saying that. It's discourteous. You don't strike me as a discourteous person. You're not, are you?'

  'No.'

  'I didn't think so. You look nice. Out of your depth, sure. But nice. I promise you, if you trust me, I can help you sort this out.'

  She glanced around at the steel door, not just locking her in, but locking help out too. 'I… I don't know.'

  'Please. I'm on your side, I really am. I want to help you. Just give me some names. That's all I ask. We didn't write them down earlier. Give me some names and I'll get Farooq off your back, I promise.'

  'I can't.'

  'You have to. Someone has got to pay for what's been going on. You must see that. If we can't find anyone else, it's going to be you.'

  Tears of self-pity pricked the corner of her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, wondering what time it was, whether Griffin and the others would have boarded their plane yet, be safely on their way. 'I can't,' she said again.

  'I hate to see women being bullied. I really hate it. It's against our culture. Please just tell me the names of your colleagues. That's all.'

  'I can't. I'm sorry.'

  'I understand,' he nodded seriously. 'They're your colleagues, your friends. It wouldn't feel right. I appreciate that. I admire it. But look at it this way: they've left you here alone to face the consequences of their actions. They've betrayed you. You owe them nothing. Please. Just one name. That's all. I can convince Farooq you're on our side if you give me just one name.'

  'Just one name?' she asked wretchedly. 'That's all you want?'

  'Yes,' pressed Hosni gently. 'Just one name.'

  V

  In the dryness of Naguib's Lada, Knox marshalled his thoughts. So much had been going on, it was difficult to know where to start. He told Naguib about Peterson and the underground site. He showed him the mosaic photo on his mobile's screen, how it matched Gaille's posture in the video. Then he explained how the Greek letters pointed towards Akhenaten and Amarna.

  Naguib nodded, as though it meshed with his own thinking. 'We found the body of a young girl out in the desert two days ago,' he said. 'Her skull had been bashed in; she'd been wrapped in tarpaulin. She was a Copt, which is a very sensitive issue round here right now, so my boss told me to drop it. He's not a man to stir things up unnecessarily. But I have a daughter. If there's a killer on the loose…' He shook his head.

  'Good for you,' said Knox.

  'The investigation didn't go as I'd expected. I'd assumed rape or robbery, something like that. But it turned out she'd drowned. And when we found an Amarna figurine on her, a different scenario began to take shape in my mind. A desperate, poor young girl who's heard of valuable artefacts being flushed out of the wadis by storms like these. She makes her way out to the Royal Wadi, she comes across a figurine, tucks it away in her pouch. Perhaps a rock crashes down on her. Or perhaps she glimpses a gash in the cliff-face and tries to climb up to it, but slips and falls instead. Either way, she lies unconscious face-down in the rainwater until she drowns.'

  'Then someone comes across her,' suggested Knox. 'They too see the gash in the cliff. A newly discovered tomb just begging to be plundered. So they wrap the girl in a tarpaulin and take her out into the desert to bury.'

  'That's what I began suspecting,' agreed Naguib. 'And so I got to wondering, what if your friend Gaille and her companions spotted something while they were filming in Amarna? What if that's why they disappeared? I spoke to some local ghaffirs earlier. They no longer have access to the Royal Wadi. They were banned by the senior tourist policeman here, a certain Captain Khaled Osman, the day after the last great storm.'

  'Jesus!' muttered Knox. 'Have you told anyone?'

  'I tried to earlier. My boss wouldn't hear me out. You don't build a career in the Egyptian police by taking on the sister services. Anyway, I had no evidence to offer, only suspicions. But then, just before I saw you, I realized something. You remember that hostage video?'

  'You think I'm likely to forget?'

  'Did you notice the lighting?'

  'How do you mean?'

  'Think back. You could see the underside of the hostages' chins, yes? All the shadows were being cast upwards. That's because the light was coming from beneath. Everyone's been working on the assumption that they're being held in some house or apartment in or around Assiut. But private houses and apartments don't have floor-lighting like that. In Egypt, you only find such floor-lighting in one kind of place.'

  'Historic sites,' said Knox.

  'Exactly,' said Naguib. 'That video wasn't filmed in Assiut. It was filmed in Amarna.'

  FORTY-NINE

  I

  'Mister Griffin?'

  Griffin looked up, startled, to see two uniformed airport security men in front of him, regarding him with polite but knowing smiles. His insides lurched, he felt sick. 'Yes?' he asked.

  'Would you come with us, please?'

  'Where to?'

  The taller of the two nodded to a glass-fronted office the far side of the departures lounge. 'Our interview room.'

  'But my flight's about to board.'

  The smiles tightened. 'Please. Come with us.'

  Griffin's shoulders sagged. A part of him had known this would happen. He wasn't the kind of man life gave breaks to. He turned to Mickey. 'You're in charge,' he said, handing him his credit card. 'Get everyone safely out. Okay?'

  'What about you?'

  'I'll be fine. Just get everyone home. I can rely on you, can't I?'

  'Yes.'

  'Good man,' said Griffin, patting him on the shoulder. With a heavy heart, he followed the two security men across the carpeted departure lounge floor.

  II

  'So what do we do now?' asked Naguib.

  'Can't you take it to your boss?'

  'He won't listen. Not to me. You know how people get. As if you're a burden specially designed to test them. And what do we have, in all honesty? Lighting. A mosaic.'

  'But we're right,' protested Knox.

  'Yes,' agreed Naguib. 'But that's not enough. You have to understand how Egypt works. There's so much inter-service jealousy and rivalry. If the tourist police so much as hear that we're accusing them of being behind this…' He shook his head. 'They'll fight back hard. It'll be a matter of honour. They'll demand evidence, scoff at it, counterattack, accuse us of all kinds of evils. My boss is my boss precisely because he knows how to avoid this kind of confrontation. Believe me, he won't even hear me out, not unless I can give him irrefutable proof.'

  'Irrefutable proof? How the hell are we supposed to get that?'

  'We could always find the hostages ourselves,' muttered Naguib, half joking. But then he shook his head, discounting the thought. 'Amarna's just too big. And the moment Khaled realizes we're out looking, he's sure to cover his tracks.'

  'Yes,' nodded Knox, as the glimmer of an idea came to him. 'He is.'

  III

  Griffin felt the tremors in his hands like soil feels an impending earthquake. He clasped them together in an effort to still them. 'Can we make this quick, please?' he asked. 'Only my flight leaves in-'

  'Forget your flight.'

  'But I-'

  'I said forget about it.' One of them pulled up a chair, sat down, leaned forwards. 'I'm afraid we have some irregularities to deal with before we can let you leave.'

  'Irregularities?'

  'Yes. Irregularities.'

  'What kind of irregularities?'

  'The kind we need to deal with.'

  Griffin nodded. All his adult life, he'd felt deficient. Living a lie, they called it. The lie that you were adequate. He looked out through the office window onto the departures lounge, his students milling around the gate, conferri
ng heatedly, glancing anxiously his way, delaying their boarding to the last moment. They looked so young, suddenly. They looked like children. All of them had been aware of the clandestine nature of their excavation. But they hadn't cared. They were God-fearing, they were American, they were immune from consequence. But now that their immunity was being stripped from them, they realized just how vulnerable they were. Horror stories about foreign gaols, judicial procedures in which they wouldn't understand a word, their whole futures at the mercy of people they despised as heathens… No wonder they were scared.

  He looked back at the security men. Whatever they knew, they evidently knew it only of him, or they'd have stopped everyone flying. His students were his responsibility, his job was to buy them time, whatever the personal cost. And, realizing this, a serene calmness descended upon him. 'I don't know what you mean,' he said.

  'Yes, you do.'

  'I assure you.'

  They shared a glance. 'May we see your passport, please?'

  He fished it from his pocket, along with his boarding pass. They took their time inspecting it, flipping slowly through the pages. Griffin looked around again. The lounge was empty, the gate closing. His students were aboard. A warm wave of relief, the chill of loneliness. Apple pie and ice cream.

  'You come often to Egypt.' A statement, not a question.

  'I'm an archaeologist.'

  The two security men glanced at each other. 'You are aware of the penalties for smuggling antiquities out of the country?'

  Griffin frowned. He was guilty of a lot of things, but not that. 'What are you talking about?'

  'Come on,' coaxed the man. 'We know everything.'

  'Everything?' And, just like that, he got the feeling that this was nothing, that they were fishing.

  'We can help you,' said one of them. 'It's just a matter of the right paperwork. We'll even take care of it for you. Pay us the amount owing, you won't have to do another thing.'

  The relief was so intense that Griffin couldn't help but sag in his chair. A shakedown, that was all. After all that anxiety, just a fucking shakedown. 'And how much would that be, exactly?'

  'One hundred dollars,' said one.

  'One hundred dollars each,' said the other.

  'And then I can catch my flight?'

  'Of course.'

  He didn't even begrudge them their money. It felt strangely as though they were messengers from some greater power, as if this was some kind of penance. And that meant he still had time to turn things around. Get his students home, make sure Claire was okay, then do something with his life of which he could be proud. He counted out ten twenty-dollar bills, added an extra one. 'For your friend in check-in,' he said. Then he walked out through the door and across to the departure gate, a great weight off his shoulders, a little strut back in his stride.

  IV

  Naguib found Captain Khaled Osman sitting out the storm in his quarters, listening to his men gossiping as they shared a shisha of honey-flavoured tobacco.

  'You again,' scowled Khaled. 'What is it this time?'

  Naguib closed the door behind him to shut out the storm, brushed down his sleeves, flicking droplets of water onto the floor. 'A vicious night,' he remarked.

  'What do you want?' said Khaled, pushing himself to his feet.

  'I tried to phone,' said Naguib, gesturing vaguely out of the window. 'I couldn't get a signal. You know how mobiles can be.'

  Khaled's jaw stiffened. He put his arms on his hips. 'What do you want?'

  'Nothing. Nothing particular, at least. I just wanted to give you guys a heads-up, that's all. We had a report earlier.'

  'A report?'

  Naguib raised an eyebrow, apparently as amused by what he was about to tell them as no doubt they would be to hear it. 'One of the locals has been hearing voices.'

  'Voices?'

  'Men's voices,' nodded Naguib. 'Women's voices. Foreigners' voices.'

  'Where?'

  'I couldn't make sense of it exactly. I don't know this place as well as you. And he wasn't the most coherent of witnesses. But somewhere in Amarna.'

  'What do you expect us to do about it?'

  'Nothing,' said Naguib. 'It's just, with everything that's been going on, I'm going to have to look into it.'

  Khaled stared incredulously at him. 'You want to go out in this?'

  Naguib laughed heartily. 'You think I'm crazy? No, no, no. But if it's okay with you guys, I'll bring him back here first thing tomorrow; he can show me the place. You're welcome to come along with us, if you like. It's a long-shot, I know, but with these hostages and everything…'

  'Quite,' nodded Khaled stiffly. 'In the morning. No problem.'

  'Thanks,' said Naguib. 'Till tomorrow, then.'

  FIFTY

  I

  Captain Khaled Osman clenched his fists as he stood at the window watching Naguib drive away. When his tail-lights had vanished into the storm, he turned to Faisal and Abdullah. 'Voices,' he said icily. 'Someone has been hearing voices. Men's voices. Women's voices. Foreigners' voices. Explain this to me, please.'

  'It must be some mistake, sir,' whined Abdullah, backing away. 'A coincidence. Tourists. Journalists.'

  'You're telling me you've allowed tourists and journalists into the site?'

  Abdullah dropped his gaze. 'No, sir. But maybe they sneaked in while…' He trailed off, aware his boss wasn't buying it.

  Khaled folded his arms, glaring back and forth between him and Faisal. 'You didn't do as I asked, did you?'

  'We did, sir,' said Abdullah. 'I swear we did.'

  'You killed them?'

  Abdullah's complexion paled a notch. 'Kill them, sir?' he swallowed. 'You never told us to kill them.'

  'What?'

  'You told us to silence them, sir,' volunteered Faisal. 'That's exactly what we did.'

  Khaled's face was stone. 'Silence them? And how precisely did you do that?'

  'We spaced those planks out over the shaft,' nodded Faisal. 'We covered them with sheets and blankets. No one could possibly have heard them.'

  'And yet someone has,' pointed out Khaled. 'And tomorrow morning the police are going out looking for them. They're going to hear their voices again.' He thrust his face into Faisal's. 'We're all going to hang because you disobeyed my direct order. How does that feel? Does that make you feel proud?'

  'They won't come back till morning,' pointed out Nasser.

  'Yes,' agreed Khaled. It was the first sensible thing anyone had said. He checked his watch. They still had time. 'Get pickaxes and rope,' he ordered. 'And anything else we need to open the place up and close it again.' He touched his Walther instinctively. Much though he cherished it, it wasn't the best tool for the job in hand. He opened up his locker, clipped two of his army souvenir grenades to his belt. 'Come on then,' he scowled, opening the door into the maelstrom. 'We've work to do.'

  They ran through the deluge, clambered into the cab, then set off for the Royal Wadi, unaware of the passenger hitching a ride on their roof.

  II

  The water had now reached Lily's chin. She had to tilt back her head to breathe. Her left arm was aching from holding up Gaille, still breathing faintly but not yet conscious. She transferred her to her right. She'd climbed as high as she could go on the mound, but it was being eaten away bit by bit beneath her feet. She gave a sob of fear and loneliness.

  The time was fast coming when she'd have to choose. She could perhaps ride the rising tide, supporting herself on the few meagre holds in the limestone wall, but no way could she do so while still holding Gaille. She was already too close to exhaustion. And the longer she held on, the more of her own precious reserves of strength she'd burn up. Letting her go was the only sensible strategy. No one would see. No one would ever know. And even if they did, they'd agree she'd had no choice.

  Right, she told herself. On the count of ten.

  She took a deep breath, counted the numbers out loud. But she trailed to a halt at seven, aware she couldn't do it. She ju
st couldn't.

  Not yet, at least.

  Not yet.

  III

  Naguib watched Khaled and his men drive off towards the Royal Wadi in their truck, exhilarated that the first part of Knox's plan had gone so sweetly. He got out his mobile, called his boss.

  'You again!' sighed Gamal. 'What this time?'

  'Nothing,' said Naguib. 'At least, I've been listening in on all the chatter. You aren't looking for some fugitive Westerner, are you?'

  'Of course we bloody are. You know we are.'

  'Only I think he might be here. A tall Westerner, maybe thirty, thirty-five. His face pretty badly banged up.'

  'That's him! That's him! Where is he?'

  'He was in a truck with some other people.'

  'Who?'

  'I didn't see. I just saw them drive off towards the Royal Wadi.'

  'Keep on them, you hear me,' yelled Gamal. 'We'll get there as soon as we can.'

  'Thanks.' Naguib disconnected, nodded to Tarek, sitting in his passenger seat, an AK-49 across his lap.

  'All set?' asked Tarek.

  'All set,' agreed Naguib.

  Tarek grinned and lowered his window, gave the sign to his son Mahmoud at the wheel of the truck behind, a dozen ghaffirs in the back, all armed to the teeth, champing at this chance to get their own back on Khaled.

  It was time to roll.

  FIFTY-ONE

  I

  Claire's cell-door banged open and Augustin burst in, closely followed by a short, slim man in a beautifully cut charcoal-grey suit. 'Have you told them anything?' asked Augustin.

  'No.' It had been close, though. She'd been on the verge of opening up to Hosni when Farooq had returned, bringing confrontation back with him. Hosni had rolled his eyes in despair, had even allowed himself a complicit smile at Claire, both aware of just how close he'd got.