Sue looked up sharply as if taken by surprise by Cathy's question and then blushed. “Of course not."
“Sue, Darren's death was a suicide..."
“I know that.” But Sue had always been a bad liar and Cathy could see right through her. The realisation shocked her. How could Sue even think she'd had anything to do with Darren's death? He was my friend. I'd give anything for him to still be alive. Did they really think she was crazy enough to be a murderer? She felt the urge to defend herself, but she knew it would be futile. Sue had made up her mind. To her, Cathy was guilty.
The conversation had become stilted. After a few courteous exchanges, Sue got up and excused herself. Cathy watched her carrying her baby down the alley. She knew it was the last time she'd ever meet with Sue.
A friendship is built on trust, and Sue clearly didn't trust her anymore.
* * *
Chapter 5
A familiar face awaited Cathy and Robert at the Cairo airport—at least a familiar face as far as Cathy was concerned, although it had been some time since she saw it last.
The Professor hadn't changed much. His walk was as lithe and catlike as it was more than six years ago and his dark eyes were as piercing as she remembered them. But, for some reason, they failed to intimidate her the way they used to.
The Professor approached them with a smile on his face. “Dr. McNeal, it is a pleasure to see you. It has been a few years, has it not?"
“Yes, it has,” Cathy said cordially, reaching out her hand to greet him. It was hard not to notice that his dark eyes never left her face for a minute, and it unnerved her somewhat, but she nevertheless shook his hand amiably.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robert frown, his gaze darting from her to the Professor. He had to have noticed the Professor's unusual behaviour towards her. It was hard not to. The Professor wasn't a very subtle man.
Even so, Robert shook the Professor's hand warmly. “I've heard and read many things about you, Professor Al-Abud. It's a privilege to have been invited to work with you."
“Likewise, Dr. Pearson,” the Professor said cordially, smiling—but his smile didn't reach his eyes. It was almost as if he wasn't particularly interested in Robert. “Shall we go?"
Robert nodded. “Yes, certainly."
Professor Al-Abud's car was parked in the undercover car park. A chauffeur opened the doors for them before packing their suitcases in the trunk. Cathy sat in the back, next to Robert, looking out the window and thinking about the next few weeks ahead.
Suddenly she heard the Professor's voice. “Dr. McNeal?"
She blushed embarrassedly when she realised he'd been speaking to her. His penetrating eyes looked questioningly at her. “Oh, sorry. I was just...” Realising explanations would only make the situation more awkward, she stopped mid-sentence. “Did you say something?"
“Yes, I was wondering whether you were feeling well? You seemed far away."
Cathy looked at him strangely. She found his question overly familiar for a man in his position. “Yes, I was just thinking about something...” She neglected to explain what she was actually thinking about, “Shall we go?"
She could see the Professor seemed displeased and wondered if she'd offended him.
“Yes, certainly,” he said. He signalled to the chauffeur who responded by pulling out the parking area, and then, focusing his attention on them again, he pointed at the necklace. “Unusual design."
Cathy's hand instinctively moved to protect the necklace. “Yes, it is."
“A present?"
“Yes."
“May I ask from whom?"
Cathy frowned. She struggled to hide her annoyance at the older man's questions. Why is he so interested in my necklace? “It's not really important who gave it to me,” she answered vaguely.
“Perhaps, but it must have been an unusual person to give you such an unusual gift.” He was clearly trying to lure her into a discussion, but she was loath to take the bait. She had no interest in discussing the necklace, and felt annoyed for not having hidden it under her clothes.
Hasan didn't ask any further. He smiled politely, but his black eyes remained cold, and Cathy felt a shiver run down her spine. He reminds me of something ... But what?
They drove in silence to Hasan's house, hidden in the suburb of Giza near Cairo University. It was unassuming though large, but Cathy was nevertheless impressed by its architectural design and cool interior. It had been kept in a pristine condition—even for its apparent age. As Cathy walked through the front entrance, she got a sense that it hadn't had many owners. It was an odd thought, and she dismissed it immediately. Such an old house would surely have had many owners.
Most impressing, though, were the artefacts, which had been displayed in the foyer and hallway. Many of them had to have been as old as the house itself. She wondered how much the Professor had spent in obtaining such scarce artefacts. Surely, they would have cost a fortune—more than a man of even his status could afford. He probably inherited them.
A manservant hurried to their side to take their suitcases.
“Mohamed will show you to your rooms. I am sure you would like to freshen up and take a rest before dinner is served. We will meet later for dinner,” Hasan said.
Cathy and Robert followed the manservant to their rooms in the upper part of the house. He first ushered Cathy to her room and then Robert to his room on the opposite side of the hallway. Closing the door behind her, she had to admit that the Professor had spared no effort to make his guests feel at home. Everything they could possible need had been provided for them.
In the middle of the room was a huge double bed. Its linen was crisp and white, and it was covered with bright yellow and orange cushions. To the right was a door leading to the en suite bathroom, which seemed to be a new addition to the house, judging by its modern-styled tiling. To the left was a small window overlooking a part of the Nile River, and just next to the door was an ancient clothes cupboard, decorated with abstract symbols. Definitely eclectic, she concluded.
She started slowly unpacking her bags, hung her clothes on the tidy row of hangers in the cupboard and then she took her toiletries to the en suite bathroom to take a refreshing shower. Having been warned about the value of water in the desert countries, Cathy kept her shower brief, and got dressed.
Looking out of the small window in her room while combing her hair, Cathy could see the ships sail by on the Nile River. It made her feel strangely at home.
Suddenly a vision appeared and she closed her eyes in an effort to make it go away, but instead it became stronger...
She was running. Something was chasing her, but she couldn't see who or what it was. She did know it was out to kill her. In the distance, she could see something looming, and her heart beat faster. Through her fear she could feel hope rising inside her. Then she tripped and fell hard on the ground. Frightened she tried to get up, but she couldn't move. She could hear its footsteps and she knew it was close. She had to get up. Then it appeared. Out of the shrub it came, the stare from its black, beady eyes piercing her soul. It came closer and closer ... She screamed in fear as it touched her with its claw...
As suddenly as the vision appeared, it was gone, and she became aware again of her surroundings. She was still alone. Had she screamed out aloud? She couldn't be sure.
There was a knock at the door. “Are you all right?” Robert called through the door.
Taking a deep breath, she gathered her composure and got up.
Robert looked at her inquisitively when she opened the door. “Are you alright?” he asked again, looking around in the room.
Trying to sound as blasé as possible, Cathy nodded. “Yes. Yes, thank you. It was just a strange insect. It's gone now, flew out the window."
She could see he wasn't convinced, but he didn't persist.
“Oh, okay. Are you ready? Shall we go?"
“Sure,” she said, and slipped her arm through his.
They walked
down the flight of stairs to the dining room. Although the house was massive, they found it easily with the help of one of the many servants who seemed to be ever-present. He surely has a lot of servants.
The table was lavishly set with the best cutlery and crockery. The food was colourfully presented, and some of the dishes Cathy had never seen before—not even when she was attending functions with her father. Male servants hurried along, making sure the guests were taken care of. One ushered them to an adjacent room, gesturing that they should wait there. In the corner was an elaborately decorated flask and delicate crystal glasses. Robert poured himself a drink, offering one to Cathy, but she declined politely, sitting down in an antique chair. Close by, a window overlooked a neatly laid-out but relatively small garden surrounded by a head-high wall.
Robert walked over to the other side of the room, and carefully studied an abstract painting while sipping his sherry. Neither said a word. Then she became aware of another presence and turned around. Standing motionless in the doorway was Hasan, his gaze fixed on her. She turned her head away, unsure how she should react.
What is it with him?
Robert had turned around. “Professor Al-Abud,” he said in his normal jovial tone, apparently blissfully unaware of the Professor's unusual behaviour. She frowned. Was Robert really that unobservant?
Hasan looked away from her, then spoke. “Dinner is served. Shall we go and eat? I am sure you must be hungry by now."
She followed the two men to the dining room. Perhaps she was being overly sensitive. Who knows what the man wanted from her? Maybe he reminded her of someone. She put the suspicions out of her mind. There had to be a completely rational explanation for his behaviour.
* * * *
Just outside the Rifai Mosque in another part of the city, two men met in the cover of night. The one seemed European, although he spoke with a local accent. The other was dressed in a traditional outfit.
A few passers-by, hurrying along, paid no attention to the two men. If they'd thought anything strange about the two men meeting, they certainly didn't show it The pair waited patiently until the passers-by were out of earshot before one of them took out a small device and handed it to the other.
“They're here."
The man in the traditional outfit seemed concerned.
“Is she with them?"
“Yes, they're staying at his house."
The man put the device in his pocket. “Make sure that you warn her."
“We will."
As he was about to leave the traditionally-garbed man grabbed his arm. His piercing green eyes were ablaze. “You better be sure that you do,” he hissed.
The other man freed his arm angrily. “I said we would, didn't I?"
“As long as she remains there, she's in danger."
“We will do what we can. We cannot do more than that. Hasan is a powerful man.” Without a further word, the man in western dress walked away, leaving the other standing alone on the curb.
* * * *
That night Cathy had another nightmare. This time it was even clearer than previously.
She was sitting on a rock next to a fast-flowing stream, reading. Her head was bowed and she was unaware of the darkening sky. Suddenly there was a thunderclap and the first drops of rain started falling. She looked up in wonderment. Falling water; wonderful, wonderful falling water. She smiled as the rain soaked her robes. How she loved the rain!
A woman came running in her direction, calling out. “You must come out of the rain. It's not good for you.” She was trying to protect her hair from the rain as she ran.
“Don't be absurd. It is wonderful. Feel the wetness; feel the coolness on your skin,” said Cathy, holding up her hands to the sky.
“Look at the bolts of fire in the sky! The gods are angry. They will punish you for being outside,” the woman urged.
“Preposterous! The falling water feeds your plants, your cattle and your families. How can it not be good to be in the rain?” said Cathy, but the woman didn't answer. Instead, she pulled Cathy under a tree. Her expression was stern.
“You should listen to your elders. You are unruly. It is not good,” she said.
“Oh.” Cathy shook her wet hair in dismay. “What is wrong with having wits?"
“Nothing. As long as your wits do not make you self-righteous. You do not respect your gods."
Cathy cocked her head and looked at the woman. “Which gods?"
“The gods who built the pyramids."
Cathy burst out laughing. “They weren't gods. We built the pyramids. My father explained it all to me."
“Your father tells you what you want to hear."
An angry frown suddenly displaced Cathy's conceited smile. “How dare you criticise me?"
The woman's face turned pallid in the midst of the girl's anger, and she fell to her knees, clenching her hands as if in prayer.
“Forgive me. I did not mean to insult you. Please do not punish me,” she begged.
“Get up, you dim-witted woman. Go home to your people. Leave me be,” Cathy gestured dismissively. “I'll deal with the gods myself."
“Yes. Yes,” the woman stuttered, and crawled backwards on her knees as far as she could. Her gaze was glued to the ground; she dared not look up lest her mistress would change her mind and punish her for her insolence. Then, when she was safely out of reach, she got up and ran as fast as she could back into the forest.
Cathy turned away haughtily.
Foolish human. They are all alike. When they can't explain something they turn it into religion. The gods are angry ... please!
There was a rustle in the bushes, and without looking she shouted angrily, “Go home! I don't need your presence."
She turned her back on the bushes and wandered downstream. The raindrops splattered into the water, the lightning had subsided and only an occasional thunderclap could be heard. On the horizon a rainbow peeped out from behind the clouds. It was a beautiful sight.
There was another rustle in the bushes and an inner voice urged her to stop and look back. She had a sense of imminent danger and for a moment she hesitated, then she turned ... only to look into the black beady eyes of a scarab the size of a full-grown man. She gasped in horror as its claws reached out to her, grabbing her by the shoulder. A claw tore a piece of her clothing and cut into her skin. She managed to pry herself free and started running...
With a jolt, Cathy awoke, soaked in sweat. Her heart was pounding rapidly. She stared into the dark room, too scared to move. Was there someone with her in the room? She couldn't be sure.
She pulled the duvet cover up to her chin. Where were these nightmares coming from? They seemed to become clearer and more real by the moment. It was as if she was repeatedly reliving a particular moment in her life. It couldn't be stress, because she couldn't be more relaxed than she'd been the last two weeks. It simply didn't make sense.
After a while sheer exhaustion took over and she fell asleep again, only to have the nightmare start all over, but in even more detail than before.
* * * *
The next morning Professor Al-Abud returned to his work, leaving the servants with strict orders to cater to the guests’ every wish. After a leisurely breakfast, Cathy and Robert impulsively decided to experience Cairo first hand under the careful guidance of Abdul; one of the older servants, and it wasn't long before they landed up at one of the local marketplaces.
Cathy was intrigued by the variety of goods at the market. At one of the stalls she stopped to look at the uniquely crafted jewellery and perfume bottles. Her head shawl had slipped off, giving the bystanders a glimpse of her shining blond hair. The sales lady noticed it too, because she immediately started raving about Cathy's beauty before trying to sell her some of her goods. Cathy grinned. She was very aware that the sales lady was only flattering her to make a sale. Because of the unusual sweltering heat, there were few tourists there, and there was no doubt the saleswoman sorely needed every cent.
&nb
sp; Robert leaned closer to her and pointed to one of the delicately decorated bottles. “Would you like one?"
“Yeah, I'd love one. They're beautiful, aren't they?"
He nodded and before she realised what he was doing, he'd started negotiating a price with the saleslady. Her immediate reaction was to protest, feeling a bit embarrassed—she hadn't intended for him to buy one—but then she decided not to argue. So, she quietly retreated to watch the two negotiate in a combination of broken English and sign language. She could see that Robert was no stranger to the business world as he negotiated his way to the deal he wanted.
After a while he turned and winked at Cathy, and she knew he'd achieved his goal. The saleslady pretended to be upset, but Cathy could see she was more than happy with the deal. She took the money with great fanfare from Robert and then handed the wrapped perfume bottle to him.
He passed it on to Cathy. “Here you go. A lovely gift for a lovely lady."
She blushed like a schoolgirl and put the package safely in her shoulder bag. “Thank you."
Robert placed his hand gently on the small of her back, “Shall we go and persuade Abdul to take us somewhere for lunch?"
She nodded. “Good idea. How about the Sheraton?"
They turned around to look for Abdul, but realised the manservant had inexplicably disappeared. It struck Cathy as peculiar. She was under the impression he had strict instructions to stay by their side. Where did he go?
Robert echoed her thoughts. “Where is he? I thought he was supposed to stay with us."
“Maybe we should go back to the car,” Cathy suggested. “He might be waiting for us there."
Robert didn't seem convinced, but agreed nevertheless, and started walking in the direction of the car park. Cathy was short on his heels. She had a sense that something was about to happen. She clutched the strap of her shoulder bag tightly as a group of street children came running in their direction, and tried to move out of their way, but in an instant they were surrounded. The young children tugged at their clothes, cupping out their hands in a begging motion while chanting, “Money, money,” as if it were the only English word they knew. Robert had put his arm around Cathy's shoulders and pushed his way through the urchins. Then, as if they realised the two foreigners weren't going to give them any money, the children suddenly scattered, laughing and shouting. At that precise moment, Cathy realised that something was amiss.
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