The Medusa Stone pm-3

by Jack Du Brul

  His upper body was still bruised multiple shades of purple and deep breaths bothered him, but he was healing well and the physician who had visited the boat in Luxor a week ago said that he’d make a full recovery. Thankfully, neither he nor Selome had any lasting effects from their exposure to mercury, and Mercer’s fears about cryptococcus had been unfounded.

  He and Selome had been on the barge for three weeks, cruising up the river from the bustle of Cairo. The boat belonged to a former client of Mercer’s who’d made a fortune after contracting his geologic services and was more than willing to allow the use of his vessel. From the shore she looked unremarkable, sixty-eight feet long and nearly twenty wide, with a flat bottom and squared bow and stern. Her pilot house was a square block haphazardly placed too far forward to be aesthetically pleasing. It was only when one stepped onto her decks that she revealed her true beauty and luxury appointments.

  The upper deck was mahogany, sanded so smooth that it shimmered in the desert sun. The small swimming pool and the Jaccuzi looked like miniature oases. Amid the palm planters, a wet bar beckoned. Apart from the crew, Mercer and Selome had the barge to themselves. Below decks were six cabins, including the master’s suite with a bed big enough for a polo match and a gold and marble bath. The dining room and main salon were equally lavish, and while the decor wasn’t Mercer’s style, he appreciated its beauty.

  He wiped perspiration from his eyes and opened them slowly, enjoying the sight that lay before him. Selome Nagast was stretched out on a wicker chaise longue, her dusky skin like oiled stone in both firmness and gloss. Her hair was bunched atop her head, but still cascaded around her shoulders, the henna dye glinting like a pillow of rubies. The only other color on her body was a wisp of a bikini bottom that vanished in cords around her narrow hips and flashed just a tiny triangle between her legs. Her breasts, perfect in any position, were spread by her relaxed pose, riding high and peaked so delicately that Mercer felt his lower body shift as he studied them.

  Moving only a hand, for he did not want to disturb her sleep, he plucked a gimlet from the table behind him. He estimated, sipping the biting lime and vodka mixture, that this was his third and it wasn’t yet noon. Mercer knew some people searched for excitement to escape the doldrums of their lives while on vacation. He wanted just the opposite.

  On the river side of the anchored luxury barge, called Aga Khan, a steady procession of tourist cruise ships paraded in both directions, loaded with Americans, Japanese, and Europeans. Opposite sat the temple of Kom Ombo, a sandstone complex dedicated to Horus and Sobek, the crocodile god. The temple looked similar to the Acropolis in Athens with sturdy columns in the shape of lotus plants and crowned with massive rock lintels. Mercer and Selome had spent the day before walking through the ruins, admiring the Ptolemaic hieroglyphics and the mummified remains of sacred crocodiles. The temple had once been a pilgrimage destination for the lame and injured, and many of the pictographs depicted medical procedures and prayers.

  Today was their last day alone together. Here at Kom Ombo, they were being joined by Dick Henna and his wife, Fay. Later, in Aswan, the two couples would leave the boat for another week of sightseeing, including a privately chartered plane trip to the massive Ramses II temple at Abu Simbel.

  No sooner had Mercer thought about the impending end to their solitude than there came a disturbance at the gang-plank. At first he thought it was another curio merchant trying to sell souvenirs, but then he heard Dick Henna’s voice and Fay’s excited exclamation as she got her first look at the true nature of her ride south.

  “Selome, wake up,” Mercer called, and her eyes fluttered open. He tossed her the bikini top. “Company’s arrived.”

  She gave a little moue of annoyance and slipped the bikini over her chest, settling her breasts in the twin cups just as Henna and Fay came out to the sundeck.

  Mercer was on his feet in an instant, shaking Dick’s hand and kissing Fay’s cheek. “Welcome to Mercer’s Barge of Sin. Your whim is our command.”

  “I said it before and I’ll say it again, I got into the wrong line of work.” Henna drank in the barge’s opulence until his gaze fell on Selome. He gaped.

  “Selome Nagast, this is Dick and Fay Henna.” While Dick was shaking her hand, Fay shot Mercer an approving wink that made him smile. “How was your trip?”

  “Great,” Dick replied. “First-class from Dulles to Cairo, private jet from there to Aswan and a limo here. Who could complain?”

  Mercer had paid for it all as thanks to Dick for his help and Fay for her patience.

  “And Harry?”

  “He’ll be here the day after tomorrow. He’s in Israel now, helping Mossad identify the people who held him captive. I can’t believe he has that much energy. His constitution is like iron.”

  “While his heart’s gold and his liver is lead,” Mercer laughed. “Why don’t you two get settled? We can talk over lunch.”

  An hour later, they sat at one of the outside tables, Henna and Fay dressed in shorts and loose shirts. Mercer had thrown on a T-shirt and Selome had covered up with a colorful wrap. As they ate, two lateen-rigged feluccas dashed by the barge, the traditional craft still a regular sight on the river after countless hundreds of generations.

  After the stewards cleared the table and refreshed everyone’s drinks, Mercer finished his nearly textbook history of the temple behind them and turned the conversation more serious. “We might as well get the working part of your trip out of the way so we can enjoy the rest of the week in peace.”

  “I agree,” Fay chimed quickly.

  “Fair enough.” Henna looked lovingly at his wife of thirty-five years. “Okay, we’ll do the bad stuff first and work our way to the good news.

  “Three of the miners trapped when you escaped the mine pit have died from mercury poisoning, and four others aren’t expected to make it. Most, however, responded well to treatment and will make a full recovery.”

  Mercer said nothing. He didn’t think of the thirty he had saved, only the ones he’d lost, and Selome put a hand over his.

  Henna continued. “Only four Eritreans were killed during the Marine assault, and autopsies proved they were all killed by the Sudanese. Out of the Marine detachment, we lost eight men with another twelve wounded. Only three Sudanese survived the battle and are being held in Asmara awaiting trial. The minister of justice assures me their execution will be swift. In a deal between Interpol and the Eritrean authorities, they also get to keep Joppi Hofmyer and the other South African mine engineer, but Giancarlo Gianelli went to Europe. The board of directors for Gianelli SpA have been forthcoming about his other illegal activities in an attempt to stave off bad publicity. Even with good behavior, he’ll be in prison long after the next ice age.”

  “Has he shown any remorse?”

  “None.”

  “I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Mercer grunted. He knew even a life sentence was too lenient for what Gianelli had done.

  “Now for the good news. I’ll save the best stuff for last. As I’m sure you heard, Defense Minister Levine died mysteriously a couple of weeks ago. The official cover story is heart attack, but the truth is, Prime Minister Litvinoff shot Levine himself. Litvinoff called for a postponement of the elections, but it looks like when they are held, he will retain the prime ministership with a Labor Party majority in the Knesset. The other conspirators we know about will be tried in secret. Israel’s government is keeping this whole affair quiet, but our President knows exactly what transpired and he’s going to use that for leverage during the next round of peace negotiations if they balk at old promises again.”

  “Carrot and stick diplomacy?”

  “Not my concern, I’m just a cop.” Henna smirked. “Now for the really good parts.

  “That heavy mining equipment you had ordered from Washington arrived in Eritrea the day after you and Selome came here. The Army Corps of Engineers gave them a hand getting it to the mine site as part of a cooperative loan
package. Habte Makkonen has been named as the mine’s general manager, and he’ll have it in operation soon. Of course, they’re calling it the King Solomon Mine. Makkonen and the minister of mines have already struck a deal with the London diamond cartel for distribution. Within another few weeks the first stones will be shipped. No one can predict how much this will change Eritrea, but everyone agrees that their cycle of poverty is over.”

  “Tell him the other part,” Fay prompted.

  “Oh, yeah. Remember that safe, the one you couldn’t open at the mine?”

  “Mercer tried everything short of dynamite on that stupid thing,” Selome offered.

  “Gianelli refused to give us the combination, so the safe’s manufacturer was contacted and they sent one of their technicians. I guess that little pig was the latest in strongbox technology because it took the safe-cracker a full week to open it.”

  “And?” It was Fay who was showing more excitement than anyone else, even though she knew the story.

  “You probably heard rumors about a huge stone that had been found when you were working in the pits. Well, they were true. Rough, it weighs one hundred and twenty carats. Diamond-cutting experts who have it in Antwerp say it’ll polish out at over sixty.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Mercer was stunned. “A stone that size is priceless. A collector will pay a fortune for the right to name it.”

  “It’s already been spoken for.”

  “Who?” Mercer asked, guessing it would soon adorn someone’s trophy wife.

  “The people of Eritrea have donated it to the Smithsonian’s Museum of Natural History. It will be displayed next to the Hope Diamond in the Hooker Hall of Geology.” Henna beamed. “It’s going to be called the Mercer Diamond.”

  Mercer felt a prick of tears behind his eyes and turned away before the others could see how touched he was by the gesture. When he recovered, he looked at Selome. “You knew about this?”

  “I learned about it the last time I called the Minister of Mines.” She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “On behalf of all my people, we wanted some way to thank you for what you did for us.”

  Such gratitude made Mercer look uncomfortable, but there was a glint of self-satisfaction behind his expression.

  Later that night, Mercer and Selome made love in the big master suite. As they lay in the damp tangle of sheets, Selome rested her head on Mercer’s chest so he could not see her face when she spoke. “You’ve changed since this morning. Was it the diamond?”

  He respected her enough not to evade the question. “No, it isn’t that.”

  How could he explain it to her? What words could tell her that despite all they had been through, he wanted to go home and pick up where he’d been before that first call from Prescott Hyde. He had to forget about this nightmare. It wasn’t fair or right to include her too, but she was part of it. Everything was just too painful, images of Gibby and Brother Ephraim and the mummified children, the sight of bodies he’d found in the other mine, Chavez’s face when the hill exploded. It would take years for the horror to dissipate, and some of it would be with him forever.

  “It is Dick and Fay then,” she said. “They remind you that life exists away from here and you are now eager to return.”

  “Selome, I—”

  He wasn’t eager, but he had to go. He had to sever every tie with what had happened. He had to make a clean break if he hoped to start the long healing process.

  “I know, Philip. I understand. You are ready to go home. Don’t think I didn’t know this was coming. I expected it.” Her voice caught. “When we met, I sensed you were carrying an old pain, something from your recent past that you could not get rid of. It’s gone now, but maybe you’re afraid that this experience will follow you too.”

  Mercer smiled. “You were the one who made the old memories fade. I think I’d given up on people, shut myself off, but you reminded me that I’m still alive inside. I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me.” And then Mercer realized he could. “I made a promise with myself that I wouldn’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you and you have to promise that the secret stays here, in this room.”

  Selome twisted so she could look at him, his serious tone demanding her full attention.

  “In the chamber where Mahdi died, I saw something, something I can’t explain.” He could see her searching his eyes. “I’ve been trying to rationalize what I saw, come up with a scientific explanation in my mind, but I can’t.”

  “What was it?” Selome asked, already sensing she knew. Her body quivered.

  “It was unlike any natural phenomena I’d ever seen, an otherworldly blue light that glowed and pulsed as if it was alive. I didn’t actually see what caused it, but I’m pretty sure that the Ark of the Covenant was down there with us. Levine was right.”

  “We have to tell someone! My God, we have to go get it. Do you know what this means?”

  “Yes, I do,” Mercer said. “How many people have died because of it already? If the search continues, more will be killed until all of Israel is destroyed, maybe the world. No, Selome, we shouldn’t go get it. It was crushed under a billion tons of rock, and that’s exactly where it should stay.” He paused. “Do you remember that Ephraim said God commanded Menyelek to take the Ark to Africa? Maybe it was for just this reason. It was meant to be a tool for God’s veneration, not a means for men to destroy each other. We aren’t ready for it yet, we can’t handle it.”

  “But…” Her voice trailed off. She knew Mercer was right.

  “I told you this so at least you would know the truth. That’s my gift for your help.”

  She could see what it had cost him to reveal this secret. The internal conflict etched his face and tightened the muscles in his body. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I think my gift was much less painful to give. I’m now in your debt.”

  “No more debts. We’re even.”

  “So what will you do once you get home?” Her serene expression told Mercer that they really were even. “Will you find some new adventure to occupy your mind and help you forget about me?”

  “I’ll never forget you, but no more adventures,” Mercer said. “I’m teaching mine rescue in Pennsylvania in a few weeks. After that, I hope to be heading to Greenland as part of a scientific expedition. Compared to what you and I have been through, it’ll be a cakewalk.”

  Selome studied his eyes, a secret little smile on her lips. “In all of your questing, have you ever really found what you’re looking for?”

  Mercer considered for a minute. “It’s not the goal that interests me, it’s the quest itself.”

  “In that case, promise me that for our last week together, I am your sole quest.”

  He did.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jack Du Brul is a graduate of the Westminster School and George Washington University. Trying to add as much adventure to his life as he does to his novels, Du Brul has climbed Masada at noon, swum in the Arctic Ocean off Point Barrow, explored war-torn Eritrea, hiked in Greenland, and was gnawed on by piranhas in the Amazon River. He collects zeppelin memorabilia, and when not writing or traveling (twenty-three countries and counting), he can be found in a favorite chair with a book and a brandy. Jack Du Brul lives in Burlington, Vermont.

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