I may, or may not have, screamed like a girl as we tore off down the street. The guy whose motorcycle we’d stolen dropped his box and ran after us yelling along with the black-clad thug who’d spotted our exit.
Slash sped around a corner when I heard a noise behind us. I twisted my head to the side and saw there was another motorcycle hot on our tail.
“Bad news,” I shouted in Slash’s ear. “We’ve got company.”
“We’ll lose them,” Slash said. He took a hard left. We listed so low I nearly scraped my knee on the pavement. Before I could panic, Slash straightened the motorcycle and we rocketed down a busy street.
I swallowed a scream as people leaped out of our way. Intellectually I understood his strategy. The more people on the street the better the chance we could blend in or slow down our pursuers. The bad news was that there were a lot of people and it was only a matter of time before we hit someone or something.
“Oh jeez.” I clutched his waist as tightly as I could, hoping I wouldn’t throw up or fall off.
We barreled down the street, jumping over curbs and swerving around pedestrians, tables, animals and lampposts. Each mile brought its share of teeth-crunching jolts and bumps. The motorcycle shook, as if it might simply fall apart beneath us given the speed Slash was pushing it. My eyes were watering from the lash of the wind, so things were blurry. Maybe that was a good thing. I didn’t dare reach up to wipe my eyes for fear of falling off if Slash took a corner unexpectedly.
Slash ripped into an alley. A gunshot hit the brick right above my head. I pressed closer to Slash.
“They’re shooting at us,” I shouted.
Slash took the next right at a breakneck speed and plunged onto a smaller street. I didn’t know how he hadn’t hit anyone or anything yet. Cairo’s congested streets, even the smaller ones, teemed with cars, motorcycles, bikes and pedestrians weaving around in chaos. He, along with everyone else, never once obeyed a stop sign or traffic signal. I guess that meant we fit right in with the flow of things. But my jaw was sore from clenching it and my hair was whipping my face like a hundred stinging bees.
Another shot rang out and I tensed, waiting any moment to feel a bullet in the back. Slash rocketed around another corner and directly forward into what looked like an underground garage of a building.
“Hang on,” he shouted.
He hit a couple of bumps that caused my bottom to completely leave the seat before he slid sideways into a parking spot, tires squealing. Slash was off the motorcycle before it had fully stopped. He yanked me off toward a set of stairs.
We ran up the stairs and around the back of a building before going down an alley and coming out on another busy street. Slash took a quick glance up and down the street before pulling me across it and into a store.
It was a women’s clothing store. A couple of women looked at us in surprise. I tried to push down what little skirt I had left.
“Good. We lost them.” He wasn’t even breathing hard.
I, on the other hand, was hyperventilating like a freaking racehorse.
“How did you learn to drive like that?” I asked. A quick glance in a nearby mirror indicated my hair looked like a dozen birds had nested in it.
“I had a motorbike in Italy,” he said with a grin. “Used to race them with Anthony Dioli around the streets of Sperlonga when I was sixteen. I also had some training at the Vatican, but this was pretty prime.”
He steered me toward a rack with skirts. “Pick out a skirt and a new blouse. And make it quick.”
I don’t know how he could transition so effortlessly from a motorcycle chase to skirt shopping, but I needed a freaking minute.
After trying to smooth down my hair, I pulled a light blue skirt with an elastic waist off the rack. It looked like it might be a bit too short, but I wasn’t worried about that for the moment. The waist looked about right and it was far superior to what I was currently wearing. A matching blue blouse hung nearby, so I grabbed that, too. Slash reappeared next to me with a gold scarf in his hand. He shoved it in my hands.
“Go put everything on. I’ll pay for it.”
“Okay.”
I found a tiny dressing room in the back and changed clothes. The skirt was too short. It barely fell to my knees, but it would have to do until I could retrieve my other clothes. I abandoned what was left of my other skirt in the room and carried only my tank top and blouse rolled up in my hands. When I exited the dressing room, Slash was waiting. He took a quick look up the street and then, apparently satisfied the coast was clear, motioned for me to follow.
“We got a text from Elvis,” he said as we fell into the pedestrian traffic. “They found a place for us to stay and they’ve secured Arthur.”
“Good. Now what?”
“Now we get this laptop to Arthur. He’s got to tell us what the hell is going on before anyone gets hurt—starting with us.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
We took a cab to the Dabab Hostel, which we found out later, was run by family friends of Zizi. Elvis told us Zizi had found us two rooms, one for the men and one for the women. I guess that meant Gwen was going to be my new roommate. If Slash was bothered by our new arrangement, he didn’t say so. It wasn’t like we had a lot of choice in the matter.
Elvis texted me that everyone was in room 101, so we knocked and waited. Elvis opened the door and we went in. Gwen and Arthur sat on one of three twin beds. There were some drawings scattered on top of one of the spreads, so I assumed Gwen had been giving Arthur a lesson on the spores.
Arthur rose when he saw us. “Thank God. Did you get the laptop?”
Slash pulled off his jacket and removed the laptop strap from across his shoulder. “We did.” But instead of handing the bag to Arthur, he handed it to me.
“You know what to do, cara.”
“On it.” I took the bag.
“Excuse me,” Arthur said. “That laptop belongs to me. Just what do you think are doing?”
“Protecting it, Arthur.” I sat on the bed and pulled the laptop out of the bag. I connected the cable to the outlet and balanced it on my lap. “Slash and I were almost killed trying to get this. You’ve got a lot of valuable information stored on here. It needs to be better protected until we can get to a spot where we can offload the material to a more secure location.” I looked over at Elvis. “Any idea if this place has Wi-Fi?”
He shook his head in the negative.
“Oh, well. I don’t have a SIM card on me, but I can still make some modifications.” I reached into my purse and pulled out my keys. I had a flash drive attached to the ring where my apartment key was. I plugged it into the side of Arthur’s laptop.
“Where’s Zizi?” I asked no one in particular.
“She had to check in with her family,” Gwen said. “Hey, did you hear that you and I are going to be roommates? Angel is going to be so jealous. Is that a new outfit?”
I had no idea how or why she could even notice such things in times like these, but we are who we are.
Before I could respond—not that I wanted to—Slash reached beneath his jacket and pulled out a gun. “This was in your room, too, Arthur.”
“My gun. Thank God you found it. The way things are going, I might have to use it.” He reached for it, but Slash didn’t hand it over.
“You have a gun?” Elvis asked in astonishment.
“Of course.”
“May I ask what you’re doing with it?” Slash asked.
“Personal protection. People are following me, remember?”
“Guns are very difficult to obtain in Egypt,” Slash said.
“I have my ways.”
Slash lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Do you know how to use it?”
“I do.” Arthur frowned. “Now hand it over, please.”
After a moment of what seemed like internal debate, Slash handed it over. Arthur took it and stuck it in an empty dresser drawer.
I looked up from the keyboard. “Arthur, what’s your password?”
When he hesitated, Elvis gave his father a stern look. “Tell her.”
“Why can’t I just type it in?”
“We’re trying to help you,” Elvis said. “And you’re making it damn hard.”
I adjusted the laptop on my knees. “Mr. Zimmerman, I promised you I’d bring you the computer and I did. Giving me the password helps me enhance your security. I just want to protect your information and make it hard for anyone to access your files if your laptop got stolen.”
“Even if they get the laptop, I coded that file,” Arthur protested.
“If your files are not electronically encrypted, they aren’t safe. And even if they are encrypted, it’s still not safe.” I tried to keep my voice even, not irritated, even if that’s exactly how I was feeling right now. “The file needs to be specially encrypted and protected in ways that would take a hacker, even a good one, a long time to get in. Can you please trust me on this?”
Arthur sighed. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.” Elvis frowned. “Now give Lexi the password and let us do our work.”
* * *
While I worked on Arthur’s laptop, Slash disappeared and came back with bottles of Coke, water, orange Fanta and three giant pizza boxes, of all things.
“Domino’s Pizza?” I said when I saw the writing on box. The smell of pizza wafted through the room and I realized I was ravenous. We hadn’t eaten lunch and breakfast had been a long time ago.
Slash handed out napkins and the five of us devoured the pizzas in record time.
“Wow. I can’t believe I came to Egypt for Domino’s Pizza.” Gwen wiped tomato sauce off her chin. “But it was good.” She burped. “Oops, excuse me.”
Slash tore off a bite of his pizza and chewed. He motioned at me, the pizza still in his hand. “How’s the security upgrade going?”
“Slow. Without Wi-Fi, there’s only so much I can do. But I’ve done my best for now.”
“Your best is always good enough,” Slash said, taking another bite. “But we need to talk. All of us. Arthur, you must give us a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”
During dinner Slash filled him and Elvis in on our earlier escapade, so they knew about the guys chasing us and our close getaway on the motorcycle.
Arthur sat back, drinking Fanta and studying us. “Okay. Fair enough. I’ll give you a bit of background. But I’m not putting all my cards on the table, just so we’re clear.”
Slash and Elvis exchanged a glance before Elvis nodded. “Fine. Just give us some idea of what’s going on.”
Arthur set his drink on the table. “Well, for the past thirty years I’ve been traveling across the Middle East tracking the lost treasures of the Jewish Temple during of the sacking of Jerusalem in 925 BC. This particular destructive campaign was led by Egyptian Pharaoh Shishak. Apparently Shishak had his forces cart off precious Jewish treasures from the temple and brought them back to Egypt for his own palace.”
“That’s a version corroborated by the Bible,” Slash offered.
“Yes, it is.” Arthur looked at his hands. “Well, apparently one particular treasure was believed to contain a special power.”
“What kind of power?” I asked.
“A holy one.”
Gwen leaned forward excitedly. “Whoa. Like the spiritual power of the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s awesome. It’s like I’m in an Indiana Jones movie or something.”
Slash rolled his eyes, but I felt the odd urge to giggle.
“So, what treasure was it?” Elvis balled his napkin and tossed into an empty pizza box.
“At the time, I didn’t know,” Arthur said. “But I got a lead to this unnamed holy treasure from the inscriptions on the cave in Jordan. They pointed to the existence of a stone tablet which held the story of the treasure. I eventually tracked down the tablet to the Egyptian section of the British Museum in London.”
“The same tablet Merhu Khalfani was manhandling at the British Museum?” I asked.
“Exactly. That tablet spoke of an Egyptian royal chariot that either carried or held the treasure. The search for that chariot led me back to Cairo.”
“So, that’s why you were looking at so many chariots and chariot-related items,” Slash mused.
“How do you know that?” Arthur demanded.
“Stand down, Arthur,” Elvis said irritably. “Zizi provided us with a list of things you’d been studying when we were trying to track you down. Chariots was on the list.”
Arthur didn’t look happy, but he kept talking. “Anyway, I examined the chariots on display in the museum, but didn’t see what I was looking for. Then one day I came across an interesting display in what is affectionately called by researchers, the Archive Museum. It’s basically a museum in the basement of the Egyptian Museum. It’s open to researchers and scholars only.”
“There’s a museum in the basement of the museum?” I said in surprise.
“You’d be surprised what’s down there. Large statues, thrones, jewelry, pottery, ancient scrolls, jeweled scarabs and, yes, chariots, just to name a few. They don’t have room to display everything in the museum, so they are building a new museum. The sheer number of artifacts they have harvested from the tombs and surrounding areas is staggering. Right now, a lot of it remains boxed, uncataloged and poorly preserved.”
“So, you found what you were looking for in the basement?” Elvis prodded, clearly trying to keep his father on track. “The holy object you’d been seeking?”
“I did.” Arthur lowered his voice. “I held it in my hands.”
“What is it?” Elvis asked.
“Sorry, that’s one card I’m not playing,” Arthur said. “Not yet.”
Slash sighed, clearly exasperated. “Where’s the artifact now?” He was nearing the end of his rope with Arthur’s games. “Is it still in the Archive Museum?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, that’s the problem. If it were still in the basement, it would be easier to access. Shortly after I found the vial and sent a sample to Elvis and his brother, I realized I was being followed. Then I heard about Mr. Khalfani trying to decipher or steal the stone tablet. I decided it would be prudent to disappear for a while. I figured he, or someone else, was onto me and my discovery. Later, I heard the chariot went on display. That means researchers like me are no longer able to have access to it without specific permission. If I had to request permission, I’d have to say why, fill out special paperwork and be questioned by the museum board. I wasn’t ready to do that yet. That’s where you come in. I need you to go to the museum and take pictures of all the chariots on display, so I can see exactly where the artifact is now located and decide what to do next. I’d go myself, but as you have witnessed, there are people out to hurt me and steal my life’s work.”
“Why can’t Zizi just get it for you?” Gwen said.
“Once an artifact is on display, not even museum employees can touch it without special permission. Permissions take time, require forms, interviews and a vote by the museum board. It’s a lengthy process because it’s expensive to move exhibitions around or remove them for examination.”
I frowned. “Okay, let me get this straight. Because you can no longer access the artifact and aren’t sure where exactly it’s located in terms of display, you want us to go to the museum and take pictures of various chariots without even knowing what we’re looking for?”
“Yes.” He looked at me as if making sure I comprehended. “Then, after I determine its location, I’ll decide whether or not
you can help me with the rest of plan to reveal the artifact to the world.”
Slash abruptly stood and picked up the empty pizza boxes. “I’m going to find a place to dump these.” He strode to the door.
I rose and followed him.
“Wait, Slash.” I jogged to catch up with him. “What do you think about Arthur’s revelations?”
“You have to ask?” Frustration tinged his words. “I think he’s beyond eccentric. But we’re stuck. The biggest threat at the moment is the endospores. I could take them from him, but we still won’t know where he got them and whether or not there are any more. Add to that, we don’t know who’s after him or why. Merhu Khalfani, or whoever he’s working for, is obviously tracking Arthur’s steps and is willing to shoot or kill people to get those endospores. We don’t know why, and we can’t even speculate, because Arthur isn’t giving up any information. All of that means we are operating in the dark. Not to mention, we’re running out of time.”
We walked outside and the heat hit me like a fist to the stomach. I pushed my hair off my neck and fanned myself with my hand. Not far from the building, Slash found a trash container and dumped the boxes in it.
“You’re right. We can’t take or steal those spores from him,” I said. “He’s barely trusting us as it is. If he notices them missing, there’s no one else to blame but us. He’d clam up for good.”
“I know. Which means we have to treat Arthur like he is the endospores. He has to be protected. Which, I suspect, is part of his plan. What we are protecting him from, I don’t know. But until we can get more information, we have to play his game.”
“Which means taking pictures of chariots until he finds what he’s looking for.”
“Unfortunately, si.”
Slash leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m going back to the Marriott. I want to do some more research on Mr. Merhu Khalfani and pick up our laptops.”
“You really think we’re safe here?”
“I do. For the time being at least.”
I paused. I wanted to say this in a sensitive way, but I wasn’t sure how. “I hate to raise the issue, but do you trust Zizi that much? What if she’s in on this?”
No Living Soul Page 15