Yasmeen and Waleed were at the airport to meet us. They had arranged accommodation nearby for Ramy and his mother, in a small hotel which was within walking distance of their home. On the journey from the airport the heat, the chaos of the roads and the never-ending honking of horns felt like it was closing in on me. I was glad when we arrived at the Ahmose house and Waleed served ice-cold tea in the darkened living room. “It is lovely to see you again, my dear” she said. “It must be very hard for you to come back here.” I nodded and sipped my tea. “As soon as you have finished your tea, you must lie down for a while” she suggested, much to my relief. As soon as I could I escaped to my room and within minutes of lying down I went into a deep sleep.
That evening Mr Ahmose, along with Omar and Pili returned from the shop. The boys seemed pleased to see me and it was great to finally meet Masud. I was feeling much better after my rest and Masud greeted me enthusiastically. “You saved our lives – if it wasn’t for you being so sure there was a storage shed out past Gahiji’s, our usefulness would have been outlived and we would be dead. How can I even thank you enough?” “It was just a lucky hunch” I laughed. “You have to thank John Turner from the Australian Embassy and the Egyptian police who were prepared to act on a woman’s intuition.” He hugged me and planted a kiss on both cheeks. “Come, we must drink to our good health” he said, pouring me a large glass of wine.
Whilst I drank my wine I had the chance to assess Masud. He was shorter than Waleed and seemed to have put on any weight he might have lost whilst he was held captive, as his suit fitted him well. He walked with a slight limp, which I assumed was from the bullet wound. Pili had his nose and eyes, I thought and Omar has his mouth. He had a long moustache which he had twirled at the ends to make them stiff and straight and dark eyebrows that met in the middle of his nose. He noticed me looking at his moustache and said “What do you think of it, eh? I have always wanted a moustache and I had the chance to grow one whilst we were held captive. I don’t think Waleed likes it very much though, do you dear?” “It tickles” was all that Waleed was prepared to say.
Yasmeen returned then from settling Ramy and her mother-in-law to be into their accommodation. She and Ramy had lots to talk about after being separated for the past few weeks. Tomorrow she would be a married woman and would soon be leaving Egypt for Australia, as soon as her visa came through. Yasmeen had a lively couple of hours with us before we all went around to the hotel to join Ramy and his
mother for a meal there. Although I enjoyed the evening immensely, I wasn’t sorry when it was time to return to the house. “You go and get some rest Anna,” Waleed said as soon as we returned to the house. “Sleep well, tomorrow will be a big day for us all”.
The wedding was to be held late the next afternoon. Yasmeen, Mrs Hazif and Waleed were having their hair done, but I declined to join them and decided to have a quiet morning and then do my own hair. Ramy was similarly at a loose end and we decided to go to the palace of King Farouk. Ramy had been there before when he first arrived in Cairo. “It seems a hundred years ago since I was here last” he said as we wandered around the huge collection of guns, knives and china which King Farouk had received as presents. They were set out in glass cupboards in wonderfully artistic displays. Afterwards we walked around the gardens, lined with canons. Here we talked about Kareem and Ramy told me how much it would have meant to him to have his older brother there at his wedding. He recalled memories from their childhood and how Kareem had always looked out for him. “I am not surprised he devoted himself to finding me. He always took his responsibilities seriously. Once he had promised our parents he would find me, he was not going to stop until he did.” I asked Ramy what had happened once the police had located them in the shed. “We were taken straight to the police station, where we gave a statement covering everything that had happened to us from the time Yasmeen and I were seized. Then I was taken to the Australian Embassy. Yasmeen and Masud were interviewed by the government officials concerned with looking after Egyptian treasurers.” “Did John Turner look after you at the Consulate?” I inquired. “Yes, I had to wait a while for him to arrive, but then he interviewed me himself and took me to the hotel they had chosen for me.”
“When you say you had to wait for him, why didn’t he accompany you from the police station?” “He said he had something to attend to” Ramy replied “Yasmeen told me later she saw him interviewing Gahiji. She said he was really laying down the law to him. I think he was trying to find out who he was working for, but as you know, none of them gave up the identities of anyone else involved. We only know there was someone called Mohammed – but of course nearly every second person in Egypt is called Mohammed in one of the many versions of the spelling of it!”
By now it was time to return to the house to help prepare for the wedding. Ramy went back to the hotel to spend his last couple of hours as a single man with his mother and I lent a hand in the Ahmose household.
The wedding was a grand affair with over 200 guests. Yasmeen was dazzling in her bejewelled wedding dress. The white of the dress against her long, black hair and strong features was stunning. The service in the local Church was perfect, even if I couldn’t understand the words. The reception, held in the village square, was something I will always remember. Large tables were set out laden with food prepared by the women. Everyone had helped – I had cut up fruit and bread – and everyone was in a good mood. The weather was perfect – the sun shone so brightly we had been glad of the coolness inside the Church for the service. Now it was a warm and balmy evening with just the hint of a breeze. As the night wore on the stars were there in their thousands, as if sending down a blessing on the happy couple from above. There was much laughter and lots of dancing. Masud insisted on dancing with both Mrs Hazif and myself. Watching Ramy and Yasmeen I couldn’t remember ever seeing a happier couple and I just prayed that, after all they had been through, theirs would be a long and happy marriage. Later that night we waved them off on their honeymoon by the Red Sea.
The next day I caught my flight back to Australia with Mrs Hazif. We talked most of the way about the wedding and a mother’s hopes that she would soon be a grandmother.
When I arrived home there was a message on the answering machine from John. “Can’t wait to see you – hope everything went well in Egypt.” I didn’t ring him straight away, I needed some time to step back and think. I was pleased he hadn’t been at the airport to meet me. Going to Kareem’s brother’s wedding, with his mother, was very hard. Knowing I was already involved with someone else was even harder. Everything was happening so fast I needed time to adjust to it. I sat in the garden in the sun and drifted.
I was woken by the phone. “Shall I come to you or will you come over here?” John wanted to know. “I still have some washing to do – how about I come over to you tonight?” I hedged. “Okay – I’ll cook” he replied. “How was the wedding?” “It was beautiful – Yasmeen looked amazing and they were both so happy.” “I’m glad you enjoyed it” John said. “It must have been hard with so many memories of Kareem.” “It was. I just need today to get my head around it.” “I do understand” John said sympathetically. “Really I do. I’ll see you tonight”.
We had a lovely evening and John was very attentive. I think he really had missed me! He cooked chicken and pasta in white wine and cream. We had a bottle of good champagne and a Sarah Lee chocolate dessert. This was the first time I had dated a man who could prepare a meal – it was quite a change! “What have you been doing in my absence?” I asked him. “Not a lot” he replied. “I spent a day at Bondi Beach and another at Balmoral. It’s not quite as much fun on your own though.” He made no mention of looking for work or of any business deals. When we turned in for the night our lovemaking was passionate yet tender and I fell asleep wrapped in his arms. No wonder I had fallen for this man.
I returned to work after this brief trip feeling more tired than before I left. As usual, things were full on and I had no time to
think about how I felt about John or how he was able to maintain such an extravagant lifestyle without any signs of seeking employment.
The following Saturday we spent the day together. We wandered around Circular Quay, watching the ferries coming and going, the tourists wandering around and listening to the buskers. John said he would cook dinner so we went back to his apartment. He was in the middle of cooking when he realised he had forgotten to buy the wine. “I’ll just pop downstairs and get some”. “I can go if you like” I offered.
“No, sit down and enjoy the view – just keep an eye on the pan and I’ll be back in a shake.” As he headed out to the lift the phone rang. I let it ring – I knew the answering machine would take it. It was a man’s voice with a thick accent – he sounded Egyptian to me. “The shipment has arrived. Please arrange to clear it on Monday.” The message sent a chill down my spine - could it be that John was somehow involved with bringing the antiquities into Australia? Before I could give it much thought he was back with the wine. I didn’t mention the call – I saw him glance over to the flashing light and then ignore it, but he was edgy all though our meal. When I came out of the shower the light had gone off so John had taken his message and seemed much more relaxed. What would he do next?
Sunday morning I had arranged to meet some girlfriends for lunch and I was relieved to have an excuse to get away early. I needed time to think. My head was spinning and my mind certainly wasn’t on our conversation over lunch. I rang John afterwards and told him I had a throbbing headache (which was sort of true) and I was going straight home to lie down.
By Monday morning I had made some headway with my thoughts. I had recalled that Gahiji had a brother, Rohmald, living in Australia. Maybe there was a link there. I spoke to Jim and told him what I was thinking. He gave me his full support and suggested I contact Customs. First I rang the police officer I had spoken to in Egypt. Fortunately he remembered me and was able to give me Gahiji’s surname – El-Masri. I then rang the Parliamentary Liaison officer in Customs. Di and I had spoken many times and were quite friendly. I explained to her briefly what had happened in Egypt and told her I had a feeling there would be a container coming through from Egypt being sent to a Mr Rohmald El-Masri – or a John Turner. I believed it contained the missing Egyptian antiquities. Di thanked me for the call and promised to pass on the information to the Customs officers at Sydney. She assured me they would look out for it and arrange for a search if it turned up. I hung up the phone feeling like a traitor. Did I really believe that the man I had been seeing for the past weeks was capable of stealing from the Egyptian government?
Later that day, Di called me back. “We have found your container” she said. “It was addressed to Rohmald El-Masri and marked as containing souvenirs. However when the officers opened it and looked behind the couple of cheap souvenirs at the front, they were blown away by the quality of the treasures it contained. They resealed it and waited for the agent listed on the paperwork to come and clear it – John Turner. He has been taken in for questioning. Police and Customs officers then went to Rohmald’s address in Western Sydney and arrested him. So far he has admitted he knew the shipment was coming but maintains that he was only doing a favour for his brother, Gahiji. He had nothing to do with the actual removal of the items from the tomb, nor their shipment from Egypt. He had just been told a container full of souvenirs was being sent to Australia and they needed to use his name and address until their contact could claim them.”
I could hardly speak – although I had suspected that somehow John was involved, I hadn’t wanted to believe it and was hoping and praying that I had been mistaken. “What did John say?” I managed to gasp. “We haven’t interviewed him yet.” “Can I come in to the station? You see, he’s a very good friend of mine.” “In that case” Di replied “they will probably need to take a statement from you too”.
I arrived at the police station, dreading the news I was about to receive. “John Turner is still being interviewed” I was told. “Come in and we’ll take your statement”. I didn’t want to make a statement until I heard John’s story. Not that I was going to pervert the course of justice, but I would feel better telling my story if I knew he had already confessed to whatever he was involved in. “I need to ring my boss and let him know what has transpired” I countered. I rang Jim and he congratulated me on helping to track down the missing antiquities. “I’ll put out a press release straight away” he said, in true political form.
As I returned to the front desk, John was being brought out of another office. He mouthed “I’m sorry” as they led him away and I knew my worst fears had been confirmed.
I learned the story from the Customs officer who had accompanied John to the police station. It seemed that when John had the opportunity to talk to Gahiji immediately after his arrest he had demanded to know the name and contact number of his boss. He told Gahiji in no uncertain terms that unless the containers had already left the country there was no way they would be able to get them out without his help. He only had a few minutes to make a decision and Gahiji opted to give John the information. John then contacted this Mohammed who admitted they had not been able to get the containers away that night. John then told him his only chance of getting the containers out now was with his help. He could tell them when the search was called off and how to slip them through Customs. Once the first container arrived safely in America, Rohmald had paid him his first commission. The second one was due once he had cleared the container in Australia.
Later, after I had made my statement, I was allowed a few minutes with John and he again apologised. “I have been a fool” he told me. “I have never done anything dishonest in my life, but I saw an opportunity to earn some really big money and I went for it. I was able to make contact with Mohammed thanks to Gahiji and I told him that, for a price, I could help him get the containers out. We waited a couple of weeks and then I arranged for the container to America to be sent as my personal effects. Not much notice is taken of the goods of an Embassy official relocating. I kept in touch with my contact in Customs and when I knew the Customs operation had been stepped down, I gave them the all clear to ship the one to Australia, offering to clear it through Customs in Australia myself. I thought a Caucasian like myself would draw less suspicion that someone of Egyptian background such as Rohmald. I have given them Mohammed’s phone number so hopefully they will be able to track him down and he too will be put away. Through my greed and stupidity, I have lost my reputation, self-respect and, worse of all, you.” He looked up at me hopefully but I could not meet his gaze. The man I had put my faith in had let me down badly and I knew it was the end of our relationship. John would be going to prison for some time and when he came out he would have no job and no prospects. Most of all, he was not the man I thought I knew and had fallen in love with. I walked out of the police station feeling totally shattered.
I was consoled by the fact that Mohammed would be jailed for masterminding the theft and that the Egyptian government would have one container full of antiquities returned to them. They might even be able to track the American one from information from Mohammed, although I doubted he would admit to that one. However, it transpired that this was not to be. When Customs rang Mohammed’s number he had already left the address and the new owner did not know where he had gone. Although he was able to give them Mohammed’s surname he managed to slip through the net, probably with a new name. It was unlikely the authorities would ever catch up with him.
Rohmald himself was questioned extensively but eventually they had to let him go. Even though John testified that he had paid him the money, there was nothing to link him with the theft, apart from his relationship with his brother. He steadfastly claimed that he knew nothing about the antiquities and was only guilty of paying a debt on behalf of his brother. He maintained he knew nothing of the container his brother had addressed to him.
As for me, I silently vowed that men were definitely off the agenda – work would aga
in be my salvation. However, a little nagging voice inside my head suggested that, like the Sphinx, one day I might lift my head high and rise up out of the sand once more.
Missing in Egypt Page 14