No Living Soul

by Julie Moffett

  I exchanged a worried glance with Slash. “Who was it?”

  “They hadn’t seen him before, so they didn’t know. But they indicated he was of a disreputable nature.”

  Elvis glanced at Slash with a worried expression. “And the good news?”

  “Your father was spotted here.”

  “What?” A slight hitch caught in Elvis’s throat. “When?”

  “About one week ago.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “One week?” Elvis leaned forward. “They’re sure?”

  “They’re sure.”

  “So, he’s alive,” Gwen said. “Or at least he was a week ago.”

  Elvis took a moment to digest that. A parade of emotions crossed his face. Relief, concern, anger and despair. It occurred to me that he might have been seriously prepping himself for the news that his father was dead. Now that we knew Arthur wasn’t dead—at least not as of a week ago—he had to consider the alternative. He’d have to confront his father.

  “Was anyone with Arthur?” Slash set down his coffee.

  “No. Apparently he was alone. But they passed on that same information to the man who came before us.”

  “So, someone else knows he’s alive and still in Cairo,” I mused.

  We pondered that for a moment until Zizi stood. “I’m sorry, but I have to get home now.”

  Slash stood as well. Feeling the gentlemanly pressure, Elvis came to his feet, too. “Thanks for helping us out.”

  “You’re welcome. Where are you staying?” Zizi asked, but directed the question to Slash.

  “The Marriott.”

  “Nice place.”

  “It really is,” Gwen interrupted. “We have a gorgeous view of the Nile. And they gave us a basket of food, including dates, which happen to be my favorite.”

  “Egyptians are known for their friendliness.” She reached into her purse for her cell phone.

  “Shall I hail a cab for you?” Slash asked.

  “No, thank you. I’ll walk. It’s not far. I’m just going to call my family to tell them I’m on my way. Will you come by the museum tomorrow?”

  I wasn’t sure if she were referring to all of us or just Slash. It was hard to tell.

  She glanced down at the table where the folder she’d given Elvis sat. “You may have questions after reviewing the material I provided for you.”

  “We might,” Slash agreed. “If so, we’ll call ahead to the museum to let you know we’re coming. Would that be acceptable?”

  “Of course.” She turned to the rest of us. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “We appreciate your assistance,” Elvis said. “Really. Thanks.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  She walked off and everyone watched as she disappeared down the street, her hips swaying. A couple of guys walking past stopped to watch her. After a minute, I nudged Elvis with my elbow and he cleared his throat and picked up the folder.

  “Uh, let’s get back to the hotel.”

  I agreed with that plan one hundred percent. I was hot, hungry and jet lag was starting to catch up with me. “We need to review what Zizi provided in terms of the exhibits and put together everything we know so far. It might help to have a big picture view at this point.”

  Slash nodded. “Agreed.”

  We caught a cab back to the hotel. The hotel air-conditioning felt so good I almost cried. Everyone disappeared to their respective rooms to shower and change clothes. Slash let me have the shower in our room first. I stood under the cold water for several minutes before shampooing because it felt so good.

  After our showers, we assembled in the living room. Slash suggested ordering room service so we could get to work. He had begun setting up and networking our computers while I was in the shower. Elvis sat down and began taking extra precautions to protect us from any potential Wi-Fi hackers at the hotel. Since I had spent too much time in the shower, I got tasked with getting us food.

  I stared at the menu Slash had handed me. “Um, what do I order?”

  “Something authentic,” Slash suggested from under the table.

  Like I even knew what that meant.

  I studied the menu and, after listening to a couple of Gwen’s suggestions—she knew even less than me about Egyptian food—I ordered the mulukhiyah, a leafy green soup and chicken, a main dish of ful medames, which was mashed fava beans with sliced eggs and vegetables, and a thick Egyptian pita bread. Personally, I felt like a hamburger, but when in Rome, or in this case, Cairo, I had to do as the Egyptians do.

  To drink, Slash suggested the Cru des Ptolémées, a dry, white Egyptian-made wine, and for dessert, a couscous and a milk pudding called mihallabiya. He also made me order a large carafe of coffee. He was probably in some kind of coffee heaven.

  The showers seemed to have rejuvenated us, but I was hungry, so I hoped the food tasted good and didn’t take too long to arrive. We each sat in front of our respective computers, except for Slash who was still under the table connecting us to each other, and waited for Elvis to orchestrate our plan of attack.

  “I can’t emphasize enough that time is of the essence,” Elvis said. “Especially since there is someone else looking for my father. We must find him and the endospores, if there are any more, as quickly as possible.”

  No one disagreed with that. But we had little to go on other than the letter he’d sent to Elvis. “Where do we start?” I asked.

  “We need to focus on breaking the code to his address. That bogus address on the envelope has to mean something. It’s not the same code he wrote the letter in, I already tried that. I ran it through a few other ciphers, too, but I came up empty. I didn’t devote a lot of time to it, so maybe we can come up with something better.”

  “I’m on it,” I said. Finally, something I could do well.

  Slash stood, brushing off his jeans. “And me?”

  “Stay on the code with Lexi. Gwen, can you run some probabilities on what this mysterious artifact might be based within the parameters of the time frame he seemed focused on, the historical significance of that time, and the curriculum of my father’s courses at Oxford, which I’ve already forwarded to you.”

  “Sure,” she said, sitting in front of her laptop.

  Our assignments given, we started our work. After finding out what ciphers and codes Elvis had already run against the address, I got started. Once my fingers hit the keyboard, I went into the zone. I barely even heard the knock on the door when room service arrived about forty-five minutes later. Slash answered the door and the waiter wheeled in the cart of food. We ate while we worked. I sipped my wine as I tried different things, but so far I had exactly nothing. Slash, Elvis and I compared notes, but we got nowhere. Worse, the food and wine were making me sleepy. Jet lag had caught up with me.

  A glance around the table indicated everyone else was completely absorbed. I hated to be the first to give up, but I was fading fast. I decided to give it one more crack before I folded.

  I needed a fresh approach. Elvis’s dad was a trained mathematician, so I started with the most common and interesting math ciphers. But that got me nowhere. There were dozens more ciphers I could try, but they were pretty complex and this was a one-line address. A street name and some numbers. A complicated math cipher seemed overkill to me. Of course, I could be wrong, but what would be the point? It was much more likely be something simpler.

  But what?

  I put my chin on my hand as I stared at the screen and suddenly had an idea. “Elvis, can you shoot me the key you used to decipher your dad’s letter?”

  “Sure. But I already told you I tried it on the address and it didn’t work.” He tapped on some keys.

  “I know. I just want to see it.”

  When I got the key, I opened it up. I studie
d it for a minute and then sat back in my chair. “It’s a hand cipher.”

  Elvis looked up from his monitor. “Yeah. So?”

  “How old is your dad?”

  “I don’t know. Fifty-eight. Maybe fifty-nine. Why does that matter?”

  “You said he liked to code. He taught you and Xavier to code when you were younger, right?”

  “Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “It means he grew up during the Cold War. Hand ciphers were popular then.”

  Slash looked up from his laptop. “Hand cipher. Cold War. I see where you’re going with this, cara.”

  I tapped a bunch of keys. “Bingo. It’s a VIC.”

  “What’s a VIC? What’s a hand cipher?” Gwen looked between us like we had lost our minds. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “A hand cipher is a code for which encryption and decryption can both be done with a pen and graph paper,” Elvis explained. “It’s pretty simple, actually. It’s not as secure as computer-operated stream ciphers, but you don’t need a calculator or computer to do a hand cipher. You don’t even need mad math skills. VIC is one of the most well-known hand ciphers in the world. It’s based on a Fibonacci generator and is short for VICTOR. It was used by Soviet spy, Reino Häyhänen during the Cold War. The NSA wasn’t able to decrypt it until Häyhänen defected in 1957.”

  In the short time Elvis explained that to Gwen, I’d broken the code on the address. “Got it,” I said. “47 El-Falaky Street. Let me see if I can find it on Google Maps.”

  Both Slash and Elvis stood and came behind me while I pulled it up. “It’s ten minutes from here, across the Nile.” I pointed at the map. “It’s the Cecilia Hostel.”

  “Do you have a room number?” Gwen asked.

  “Not yet,” I said. “Besides, if he’s trying to hide, I doubt he would have used his real name or passport to check in. Elvis didn’t you already do a search of Cairo accommodations for him?”

  “I did, but came up empty.”

  “Then he isn’t using his passport as his ID.”

  Slash returned to his computer. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll pull up a list of all guests registered at the Cecilia. Maybe something will pop for you, Elvis.”

  “Good idea. Thanks.”

  I closed my laptop. “Well, it’s getting dark and we’re exhausted. My suggestion is we call it a night and start fresh in the morning. There’s not much else we can do at this point anyway.”

  Gwen closed her laptop and stood, yawning. “I’m all over that.”

  “As soon as I finish compiling the list, I’m turning in, as well,” Slash said. “We’ll have clearer heads in the morning.”

  While Slash finished up his work on the list I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth before crawling into bed. He came in shortly thereafter and took his turn in the bathroom before sliding into bed next to me.

  “How are you holding up, cara?” He rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand and looking at me as I lay on my back staring at the ceiling.

  “Good, I guess. I’m worried about Elvis and about what we might find if we do locate Arthur. What if he’s dead? How would Elvis deal?”

  He traced a circle on my arm with his fingertip. “Elvis is a lot stronger than you think. We’d help him, of course. Because that’s what friends do.”

  “You’re right. I just don’t get it. What kind of father just takes off and leaves his family behind?”

  The circles on my arm stopped and Slash lay back on the bed, tucking one arm behind his head. “I don’t know. And I say that from firsthand experience.”

  “Slash. Oh, crap.” I rolled over, leaning close. My hair spilled onto his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think before I said that.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I don’t know what my biological parents’ circumstances were. I don’t blame them. I’m happy where I ended up.”

  I leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his mouth. “I’m happy for where you ended up, too. Still, have you been wondering about them lately?”

  He reached out and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. “Why would you think that?”

  “Well, sometimes you get this look on your face when Elvis talks about his dad. It’s hard for me to read you exactly, but it’s like you understand where he’s coming from. You get his struggle because...well, maybe you wrestle with it, too.”

  “I suppose all of this has caused me to reflect deeper on my own beginnings.”

  “Speaking of which, what happened today in the alley? After you caught that kid stealing Gwen’s wallet, your eyes were miles away. Where were you?”

  He was quiet for so long I wasn’t sure he’d answer. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

  “I’ve told you how I don’t remember anything from the first seven years of my life,” he finally said. “It’s a blank slate. My memories start when I woke up in the hospital in Sperlonga and saw the nurse who would become my mother. But there are times...”

  I took his hand and threaded my fingers together with his.

  He inhaled and held it for a moment before speaking. “There are times I have nightmares—several of which you’ve witnessed—but I can’t remember anything when I wake up. Lately I’ve started to have some unusual flashbacks. At least I think that’s what they are. They’re not a whole picture or even a memory, just a quick glimpse into something.”

  “Into what?”

  “I don’t know. This is going to sound strange, but today in the alley, I knew that kid. When I lifted him off the ground by the back of his shirt and I looked at him, really looked at him, his face was mine.”

  Chapter Twenty

  We didn’t talk much more after Slash’s revelation. We were both too exhausted and I sensed Slash needed time to process his thoughts. Instead, I offered the comfort of my arms and that seemed enough to help him drift off to sleep.

  I awoke first and quietly got dressed so as not to wake him. Today I chose a tank top with a light blouse and a long, loose skirt and sandals. Loose and light-colored clothing seemed to be the smart thing to wear in the desert, along with lots of sunscreen. When I went out into the common area of the suite, Elvis was already up. He sat behind his laptop typing away and drinking coffee.

  “Hey, Lexi,” he said. “Coffee’s ready.”

  “Thank goodness.” I went and poured myself a cup, adding all but one of the creamers that were left. I hoped Gwen wasn’t big into cream in her coffee.

  “What are you doing up so early?” I perched on the arm of the couch and blew on my coffee.

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  “My body is messed up from the time change. You okay this morning?”

  He looked up from the screen, his blue eyes troubled. “Not really. I’m trying to pretend I’m not freaked about possibly finding my father today.”

  “You’ve got this.”

  “You think?”

  “I do.” I blew on my coffee some more and dared a sip. Even with all the creamer it was really strong. I returned to the coffee pot and added three bags of sugar, stirring it in the best I could.

  “How do you think he’ll react when he sees me?”

  “I don’t know your father, Elvis. But I’m pretty sure it’s safe to assume he’ll be surprised to see you in Egypt.”

  “Do you think we’ll really find him? What if he’s not there? What if we discover he’s not even alive?”

  “Speculation at this point doesn’t help anything. Don’t work yourself up, Elvis. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

  He nodded. “Okay. You’re right. Let’s just find him first.”

  “Exactly. So, what are you working on over there?”

  “I’m reviewing the list Slash created from the
Cecilia Hostel to see if a name pops at me. So far, nothing. He could be registered under any of the names. Or he might be long gone.”

  “Can I see?”

  “Sure. A second set of eyes never hurts.”

  We’d only been reviewing the list for a few minutes when there was a soft knock on the door. I looked through the peephole and then opened the door.

  Zizi stood there, dressed in a short-sleeved white blouse, a yellow skirt and sparkly yellow sandals. A white scarf with golden threads was draped over her thick black hair. She smelled like flowers.

  “Hey, Zizi,” I said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “I hope you don’t mind. The registration clerk is an old friend and he let me know where you were staying. I have the day off and I’d like to help, if I can. I’m as anxious as you to find Arthur. I thought perhaps you could use a guide.”

  “Hey, that would be great,” Elvis called over my shoulder. “Thanks, Zizi. Please come in.”

  I stepped aside and she entered the suite. The scent of flowers drifted past with her.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked.

  “That is most thoughtful of you. I’d love one.”

  I made her a cup and brought it over. Thankfully, due to the lack of creamer, Zizi drank it black like Slash, who showed up shortly after she arrived. He walked into the suite in jeans and a tight white T-shirt. He was barefoot and his hair tousled.

  He lifted an eyebrow when he saw Zizi on the couch sipping coffee. “This is a lovely surprise. What brings you here?”

  “Good morning. I’m offering my assistance in helping you find Arthur. I figured you could use a local guide.”

  “We could. That is kind of you.”

  Just then, Gwen wandered into the suite. She was still in pajamas, her red hair tangled and a sleepy look on her face. “What did I miss?” She yawned and stretched her hands above her head. She blinked when she saw Zizi on the couch.

  “Oh, hey, Zizi. What’s up?”

  We quickly brought Gwen up to speed, letting her know that Elvis hadn’t had any success while reviewing the names of those registered at the hostel. While she changed and Slash finished getting dressed, Elvis ordered breakfast from room service.