The Porus Legacy

by Daniel Leston

  Not at all.

  So far it had been a very pleasurable excursion for all of them—in particular for Elizabeth and Lana who were fast becoming inseparable. If he overheard correctly, Lana had even invited her to spend the following day scuba diving, showing the progress of her recent underwater mapping project. Knowing his wife as he did, he wasn’t surprised when she leaped at the offer. What mattered most to him was that so far she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her vacation.

  Their drive back to the coast took a different route, Karim directing them onto an asphalt road that wound its way through a craggy and twisted valley called Wadi Hammamat.

  Though not as dramatic as the magnificent ruins of Dendera, what it contained was nonetheless equally steeped in Egypt’s long history and now a major scientific and tourist attraction. Beginning at the modern day city of Qift—formerly ancient Coptos—the dry riverbed meandered east from the Nile some hundred and eighty miles to the Red Sea through a section of low, rugged mountains. Not only was this used for millennia as a trade route to the coast, but it was also famed for its productive gold mines and stone quarries, exploited as such since the very earliest dynasties.

  Less than ten miles in, Karim had them swing into one of the larger tourist parking areas, informing David that this would best demonstrate what he wished them to see.

  As everyone got out, he said, “From here right on through the entire length of the valley, you’ll see that the rock cliffs contain literally hundreds of ancient carved hieroglyphic inscriptions and graffiti—a rare few even dating back as far as prehistoric times when simple desert dwellers and nomads left crude petroglyph images on various surfaces.”

  He removed his binoculars and handed them to David, pointing up to what appeared to be a crumbling stone structure high on the valley wall.

  He continued as David focused in on it.

  “What you’re looking at is the remains of a roman watchtower, just one of dozens strewn all the way to the coast. The late arriving Romans were by far the biggest exploiters of Wadi Hammamat’s gold laden quartz deposits, thus they provided as much protection as they deemed necessary to safeguard their empire’s interests.”

  How any of this information might pertain to Mustafa Sayed still eluded David, but he was more than willing to let the older man explain at his own pace.

  Which Nazari now proceeded to do.

  “When I first came to my posting at El Quseir four years ago, I took it upon myself to become as familiar as possible with the archaeological history of the entire region and not just concentrate on the immediate Red Sea coast. In the process of doing so, one of the many published papers made available to me concerned the findings of a noted Canadian team out of Edmonton University charged with doing a thorough study of these roman structures, something no one had ever bothered to fully document and record prior to their work in the mid-eighties. The findings they made beginning right here with that watchtower were both startling and disturbing, to say the very least.”

  He again pointed up to the high ruins.

  “As famous as Wadi Hammamat was for its remarkable wall carvings and hieroglyphs, very few in the scientific community ever really comprehended—or even suspected—just how far up and back into the cliffs these little treasures of antiquity extended. It took the Canadian team to fully reveal it. Unfortunately, however, it also quickly became evident to them that others had made this discovery several decades earlier and begun a regular and systematic plundering operation. Working in the dead of night with modern tools and precision cutting equipment, they had skillfully removed a great many historical tablets without anyone even knowing they’d existed—let alone were missing. Needless to say, with the discovery of this extensive pilfering, our government took immediate steps to protect what still remained.”

  David saw where Nazari was going.

  Here was the likely source of the unique and highly valuable stone tablets Mustafa Sayed regularly brought to Sharif up in Cairo. It was a rational conclusion—even explaining why the sales came to an abrupt end in the late eighties when the source of Sayed’s pilfering was no longer available.

  Too, it seemed to rule out any chance of Sayed coming from El Quseir.

  All the evidence showed the physical plundering took place here at the western end of Wadi Hammamat—well over a hundred miles inland. Thus Haleem was probably correct in his assumption the man came from somewhere close by in the Nile valley. Constant accessibility to illegal livelihood would’ve been paramount to Sayed.

  In one sense it was disappointing.

  Yet the elimination had to be made. Now they were down to just three surnames left to investigate—and, practically speaking, the prospect of achieving any success was looking slim, at best.

  He thought about it in silence as they drove back to El Quseir. Giving up wasn’t in his nature. It might soon come to that, he recognized, but he wasn’t quite there yet. What he desperately needed was an angle to probe, something outside the box that he could somehow tie to those surnames and—

  It suddenly came to him.

  Of course!

  He glanced at Nazari.

  “Karim, you’ve lived and worked in El Quseir for four years now. Just curious, but what’s the overall crime situation in the city? I don’t mean petty theft and the like. I’m referring to violent crimes.”

  Momentarily taken aback, Karim asked, “Such as what? Like murder? If that’s what you mean, I can tell you such things are simply nonexistent. Despite its growing population, it’s basically still free of such big city crimes, very rural in its law-abiding traditions.”

  “And always has been?”

  “Near as I know, yes.”

  This was exactly what David hoped to hear.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As she intended, Elizabeth awoke before her normal custom—yet not early enough to find David still lying in bed beside her. Such a discovery would’ve been most unusual. A check of the time told her it was 6:35am. Throughout their married life, he’d shown himself to be a classic ‘morning’ person in the truest sense of the word. It was a repetitive part of his daily routine she’d long since come to accept as natural, just another ingrained trait of his personality.

  It was annoying at times, but hardly a fault in her estimation.

  Despite feeling a few residual side effects stemming from yesterday’s excursion inland, she nonetheless suppressed a yawn and forced herself to get up, eventually donning one of the hotel’s cotton robes. What she sought was a bit of quiet time alone with her husband before today’s events progressed further.

  No surprise, she located him sitting on the private patio of their bungalow, gazing seaward and enjoying a cup of coffee from a fresh pot provided by room service. On the same tray was a covered sampling of what she assumed must be warm rolls. What else could it be? she thought, knowing his regular penchant for light breakfasts.

  She slid open the glass door behind him.

  “Is that for anyone?”

  “Of course, darling,” he replied, surprised to see her. “I wasn’t expecting you up and about so soon.”

  “Smells wonderful.”

  He looked at his wristwatch.

  “So, when exactly is Lana coming around to collect you? I should’ve asked last night, but—”

  “Actually not for another couple of hours.”

  He cocked his head.

  “Too keyed up to sleep, were you?” His amused smile grew as she poured a cup and sat beside him. “I can imagine you might be. After all, you haven’t been scuba diving for a good half dozen years.”

  Elizabeth’s expression said her excitement was indeed part of it.

  But not quite all.

  “Well, I really am looking forward to it,” she admitted. “However, I still feel a bit guilty.”

  “About what?”

  “About abandoning you and Omar to root through the old archives over at El Quseir’s local newspaper while I’m out enjoying myself.” She p
aused, looking at him with a critical eye. “David, are you really sure I can’t be of some help to you guys? I’m certain Lana will understand if I bail on her.”

  He dismissed this out of hand.

  “There’s absolutely no need, believe me. We went over all this yesterday and nothing’s changed. Hell, since I can’t read or recognize more than a couple dozen words of Arabic, it’s all going to pretty much fall on Omar’s shoulders anyway. In fact, I’ll be hard put to stay out of his way.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “It’s the plain truth of the matter. Besides, I’ll feel better knowing Lana has you pleasantly occupied.”

  Elizabeth accepted the sincerity of his logic.

  Which now raised another question in her mind.

  “You never said as much last night, but I expect today is a last ditch effort to extend this investigation, right?”

  He nodded, his smile fading.

  “Afraid so, hon. We’ve about run out of options. Not unless we can link that youngster from forty years ago to one of those three surnames. Short of that the whole thing will be a wrap as far as I can see. If the boy received that facial injury as the result of a violent crime, then according to Karim the local newspaper would’ve almost certainly made some mention of the incident. Generally speaking, such events are an apparent rarity in El Quseir.”

  Elizabeth chose to now play devil’s advocate.

  “Only asking, mind you, but what if the youth came by his wound accidentally? Something that might’ve never made the papers?”

  “A definite possibility,” he agreed. “Omar and I discussed this, but I still feel it’s the least likely of those two scenarios. If the teenager had nothing to hide concerning how he received such a deep laceration, why would he risk his health to immediately book a train to Cairo before it even began to properly heal? Too, his possession of such a unique artifact can’t be ignored. No, it just seems more plausible he was running away from something.”

  “Or someone?”

  “Chances are we’ll never know the full answer.”

  She thought about this as she finished her coffee; then asked, “Are you going to be terribly disappointed if today comes to nothing?”

  “No more than you or Omar,” he reassured her. “The bottom line is our ability to solve this might’ve never been in the cards. This happens far more times than not.”

  “I suppose,” she murmured. “Too bad if true. So where are you two going to begin?”

  “At the local newspaper. Omar’s already established a contact there through the auspices of Karim with someone in authority willing to assist us. We’ve set up an early appointment—within the hour, in fact.”

  Reminded that she also had things to do, Elizabeth stood and gave him a quick kiss. “Good luck to you both. If it helps, I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

  * * * *

  It was 9am when Lana finally picked up Elizabeth in her open jeep and drove them over to their dive site. As promised, all of their required equipment was already loaded in the back of the vehicle inside two sturdy gear bags, both large enough to accommodate everything with the exception of the diving cylinders and weight belts. As Elizabeth knew from previous scuba diving experiences, these were always best managed separately. Even with the passage of several years, most of the training she’d received still remained fresh in her memory. Not that she considered herself anywhere close to being an expert. Hardly. At best, she felt herself a marginally trained novice needing all available guidance.

  That’s where her new friend Lana came in.

  The younger woman was a seasoned professional with enough expertise in her chosen field to more than qualify her as the real deal. What better instructor and partner could anyone possibly hope to find for a day’s diving?

  Certainly no one Elizabeth could imagine.

  On arriving, they each put on the semi-dry suit that had in recent years replaced the old traditional wet suit in temperate climates. Made of thin neoprene, its flexibility and almost negligible weight struck Elizabeth as a huge improvement. After transferring their equipment to a rigid, fifteen-foot inflatable boat, Lana paddled them out to a small buoy located roughly ninety feet offshore where she then attached a short tether line. This not only anchored their diving platform securely to the sea floor eighteen feet below, but also positioned them directly over the foundations that in the distant past once supported White Harbor’s ancient trading wharves.

  Lana explained the significance of what Elizabeth was about to explore as they donned the rest of their equipment and performed a final safety-check of their air tanks and regulators.

  “Our best estimation is that the foundations have been totally submerged now for probably over a thousand years. Possibly even longer. With rising sea levels and occasional land shifts, it’s really quite difficult to gauge with any real historical accuracy. And don’t be misled by the term ‘foundations’ which can be confusing to those viewing this for the first time. If they expect to find some form of recognizable stone structuring, they’re going to be disappointed. Basically, what I’ve carefully recorded and plotted on a grid format is an accurate delineation of just where the wooden supports stood in bygone times. Almost none of this material has survived above bed level, of course, but some fragments have actually been retrieved and carbon dated to the early Ptolemaic period. Much has yet to be done, though the overall findings have been surprising.”

  “How so?” asked Elizabeth, genuinely interested.

  “Mostly, it’s the extent of it all. Far bigger than anyone anticipated. The merchant trading activity that took place here must’ve been truly substantial.”

  Elizabeth’s fascination only increased once their dive began.

  The clarity of the water was remarkable, her delight in the experience even more stimulating than her previous recollections from past years. The only thing keeping this from being perfect in her opinion was the absence of David. If only he was here to enjoy this with her, she thought as the afternoon slipped by. Knowing him as well as she did, she felt he needed such a day of complete relaxation.

  God knew he was overdue.

  It was when they eventually re-entered the boat and began removing their equipment that their day took an otherwise odd turn. After Lana had untied the short tether to the buoy, she then turned and sat facing Elizabeth for a long moment with a somewhat perplexed look on her face.

  This didn’t escape Elizabeth’s attention.

  “Something wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe. Take a look over my left shoulder and tell me what you see back on the dock.”

  Elizabeth did so.

  “I don’t—not unless you mean the young man in the green shirt staring in our direction. Is that what you’re referring to?”

  Lana nodded.

  “It may just be me, but think back to yesterday. Does he appear in any way familiar to you?”

  “No. Should he?”

  “I’m sure I saw him twice yesterday; once while we were taking the walking tour of the Dendera ruins—then again when we stopped at that parking area in Wadi Hammamat. It struck me as being a bit strange at the time, him being alone and never going very far away from us. Now he shows up here wearing the same shirt, no less.”

  “Following us?”

  Lana lifted her slim shoulders.

  “What other conclusion is there? I mean, encountering him twice can be written down as pure coincidence—but three times in less than twenty-four hours?”

  Elizabeth agreed, thinking David needed to be informed.

  Something definitely wasn’t right here!

  Adding further to their growing suspicion, she watched the fellow hurriedly walk away and out of sight as Lana began paddling the boat back toward the dock.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The high level of excitement Elizabeth found upon her return to their seaside bungalow temporally put her troubling news for David on the back burner. Not only was an exuber
ant Omar present, but a newly arrived Karim was there, as well, all three men discussing what had apparently been a very positive finding. By their pleased expressions, it was clear they believed the investigation into the mystery of the pearl necklace was once again on track.

  A smiling David filled her in on the details.

  “It appears the person we’ve been seeking,” he told her, “was the third man on our list, a local well digger and a lifelong resident by the name of Tahan Shadid. No question he’s the one. The other two surnames, Assaf and Khoury, came to nothing—but that’s now become irrelevant.” He grinned. “And Omar’s eventual discovery didn’t come easily, I assure you. As you can imagine, I was of no help to him, whatsoever. Worsening matters, the paper’s archives prior to 1979 were never entered into a computer retrieval system. Every single page and article had to be painstakingly viewed off old reels of microfilm. It took the majority of his day before he finally came upon evidence pinpointing Shadid as our man.”

  Omar gave a self-effacing shrug.

  “Which wouldn’t have happened, David, if you hadn’t convinced me to continue past our arbitrary cut-off date of around October 10, 1973. Give proper credit where it’s due, my friend. The bulk of the paper’s daily reporting in that time period was totally devoted to the continuing war coverage with Israel. Truth be told, toward the end my strained eyes were on the verge of giving up.”

  Elizabeth showed her exasperation.

  “So someone please tell me, already! What exactly did you find?”

  It was David who answered.

  “A very brief article buried a half-dozen pages back in the paper’s October 18th edition—roughly eight days after that teenager showed up at Sharif’s door in Bulaq. The support for assuming a direct connection between him and Shadid is really quite overwhelming. In essence, the article stated Shadid was found murdered in his home in the northern suburb of Myos Hormos—just where Karim here predicted he probably came from due to the type of artifacts he pedaled up in Cairo. By the degraded condition of his body, it appeared the crime had occurred at least a full week earlier. The physical evidence suggested he came upon a late night intruder and didn’t survive the encounter. Not only was there a ten-inch screwdriver left impaled through his neck, but he was clutching a blood-smeared knife in his hand.”