Endermann shrugged. "Hey, will you look at this one!"
The English dailies had little to say about the prophecy, but the American papers were universal in their enthusiasm for the work of the Institute of Egyptologists.
"They've gone for it, right to the bottom line," said Endermann. "Look, even the White House will be making a statement in the morning. Admiral, you've really put the Institute of Egyptologists on the map. I'm off to Berenice to make sure the Eagle is ready to fly. I don't care a damn where Ahmed is. The lunar eclipse is tomorrow night, and that's when our big bird has to leave its nest."
Spaxley leaned back against the passenger seat and lit another cigar. Brought in at the last minute, he'd done his best to pick up the threads and pull them into a tight line. Olsen had failed, but thanks to his White House press skills, Operation Oracle would be a success.
Endermann looked up from a typed fax that had followed the main transmission. "This is from one of my team in Cairo. It seems they've dug bits of Ahmed's body out from under the al-Sûfiya mosque."
"He sure made a mess of mining that place." A gust of damp November air entered the station wagon. "Something's wrong with the timing in Egypt, Endermann. The first two have gone early. Who's controlling the Eagle of Darkness?"
Endermann grinned. "When the moon is suddenly darkened, the enemy of Upper and Lower Egypt will come like the Eagle of Darkness to fill the land with even greater terror. Good words those. A godammed nuclear device being delivered by air." He coughed from the smoke. "No problem. My men are waiting for me in Râs Banâs. I'll be joining them in a few hours, and I know the timetable."
"Maybe it was a mistake to take Olsen out," said Spaxley. "He could have changed the wording to suit our convenience. There's too much pressure now."
"Finish that cigar and wind that window up, Admiral. It's too damn chilly!"
Spaxley wound the window fully down and flicked his cigar butt onto the driveway. He felt on the defensive. "I want to run another press conference at the Institute tomorrow."
Endermann sounded annoyed. "You've already been seen, and it's too late for you to do anything about it. I'm sending Stephan to take over your duties as press officer for the Institute. No one in the media knows him."
"Maybe..."
"Don't want to put your nose out of joint, Admiral. Stephan's going to need your help behind the scenes."
"I..." Spaxley opened the door and swung his legs out of the Chrysler and decided not to argue with Endermann. "I'd better be getting back to the Institute"
Entenmanns reached out. "Not so fast, Admiral. Don't go near the Institute. I want you back in Cheltenham tonight."
"That's ridiculous," he protested.
"It's an order, Admiral, and you disobey it at your peril."
He guessed Endermann must have good justification for such a directive, but he wasn't going to be ordered around. "I'll just go in and collect my pajamas. It's cold in Cheltenham."
"Get in your car now, and drive out of here as fast as you can."
Reluctantly Spaxley got out of the Chrysler and climbed into his rental car. His headlights swept a harsh glare across the ground as he accelerated down the drive, and just for a moment he thought he caught sight of someone crouching by the bushes.
Chapter 48
The Lodge, Institute of Egyptologists, England
SAM PUSHED the door closed. "I need an atlas. I've heard of Berenice, but I can't think where it is."
"South of France?" suggested Panya.
"It could be Ethiopia." Bill Tolley opened the living room door, checked the hall, and closed it again. "Someone after you? You sound breathless."
"Spaxley was talking to another American in the big Chrysler. Called him Endermann."
"That's the name in this email," said Tolley, unfolding the paper he'd taken from Denby Rawlins' pocket. "What was Endermann saying?"
"It sounds like he's launching the Eagle of Darkness from a place near Berenice," said Sam. "He also mentioned Râs Banâs. I seem to remember Râs Banâs was a military area when I last flew that way. Is Râs Banâs near Berenice?"
Panya produced a world atlas from her bookcase. "Berenice is about as far south as you can go in Egypt."
"I know it now," said Sam. "It used to be a prohibited flying zone. Definitely something to do with a large military base."
Panya leaned over to study the map. "Is the Eagle of Darkness anything to do with the nuclear explosion?"
Sam shrugged. "All I know is it's being launched from a place called Berenice. They had the car windows closed most of the time. Maybe we should forget it."
Panya's eyes flashed behind her small wire framed glasses. "You want people to be incinerated by missiles all over the Middle East? Is that what you want?"
"Hold on, Panya." Sam knew he'd met a tough cookie with the young widow housekeeper. "Bill's already said we can't go to the police."
"That's stupid!" There was a blaze of passion in the ex-missionary's eyes. "I can't believe that you men are afraid of the local police."
"This is some fiery woman you've got here, Sam." Bill Tolley shook his head but there was a smile on his face. "Listen, my lovely little lady. PC Plodd can't go out to Cairo on the next plane and disarm the Egyptians. He'd just pass it up the line to SIS."
"What's SIS?" asked Panya. "And don't patronize me, Bill."
"SIS is the Secret Intelligence Service. The British secret service. For sweet old fashioned things like you it's still known as MI6. They deal with overseas security problems, but we don't know what their role is in this. Am I making myself clear?"
Panya sighed. "I worked with Arabs. I can speak the language. I could be out there helping them."
"That's not impossible," said Tolley. "What's this group you're working for?"
"Unity Through Faith. That bomb in the al-Sûfiya mosque was almost certainly meant for us."
"Would they let you go out to join them now?"
"I could get in touch with Cardinal Fitz. We got into Dr. Wynne's office last night and faxed him the pages from the red binder."
Bill Tolley opened his eyes wide. "The two of you broke into the office at the Institute?"
Panya turned up her nose. "For someone who puts bugs on phone lines, you've gone very moral all of a sudden."
Bill Tolley shook his head. "No moral judgment intended, I can assure you, darling. What were you looking for?"
"Anything that might tell us a bit more about the prophecy," said Sam. "Panya's an undercover agent for the Pope."
Panya hit him playfully on the arm. "Hardly an undercover agent. Unity took an interest in their prophecies some time ago relating to the Catholic Church, and more recently saw a possible threat to religious stability in the Middle East. And that's why I'm here."
"Can you get me into the Institute without Dr. Wynne knowing?"
"Tonight, Bill?"
"Can you?" repeated Tolley.
Sam looked at Panya. "There's no need for you to get involved."
"Now you're patronizing me, Sam." She looked at Denby Rawlings lying stretched out flat on the sofa. "Is it safe to leave him?"
"Let him sleep it off," said Sam dismissively. "You can tell Dr. Wynne about him as soon as Bill's collected his recorder."
Panya nodded enthusiastically. "I can check the wastepaper basket in the Admiral's room. That's what spies do, isn't it?"
"It's risky," said Sam.
Panya tutted in frustration. "Sam, you can stay here and look after the Second Partner and clean the kitchen floor, if you want something to do. There's a pinny hanging behind the kitchen door."
"Stop bickering, you two." Tolley already had his coat on. "Anyone got a flashlight?"
Chapter 49
The Lodge, Institute of Egyptologists, England
THE INTENSE light shone down from above. It was Aten. The voice that had shouted had been Aten speaking in judgment. Aten was upset because his priest had looked too long at the temple virgin. The voice had been ang
ry.
Angry and threatening.
"Hail to you, Aten of daytime, creator of all, who makes all things alive." Denby Rawlins said the words slowly and turned onto his side where the light seemed less bright. "Rising in heaven formed as Ra, you make seasons with the months, heat as you desire, cold as you desire. You take bodies and embrace them, every land rejoicing at your rising and every day giving praise to you." He paused. He could see now that the light was nothing more than a bulb under a yellow shade. Aten was not here.
The room looked familiar. Yes, he had been in this place several times, exploring the drawers in the bedroom, feeling the soft underwear. This apartment was a dwelling of arousal. The sweet perfume that rose from the special drawer was a provocation.
The woman had placed a cushion under his head. She had been kind in spite of the anger of the two men who had treated him roughly. He pulled himself up on one elbow and realized that the room was empty. This was the woman's living room, but she wasn't here.
The First Partner would be angry when he learned about the spy hole in the hatch. It had happened once before, with another woman who lived here. He only had one friend he could trust, and Andy Olsen had been taken away. Andy Olsen had shared the herbs, but he had been greedy with them.
With an effort, he got unsteadily to his feet and stood for a moment, before sitting heavily on the arm of the sola. The haziness would soon pass. It always did. In a few minutes he would be able to return to the safety of the Institute. He must replace his head covering and straighten his gown. A priest of Aten must never look untidy.
He would come back here tomorrow.
Up into the roof space above the bath. To see the woman all over again.
Chapter 50
Institute of Egyptologists, England
"IT'S TOO EARLY. We ought to come back later," said Panya as the three of them waited in the Hall of Aten. To their alarm, Dr. Wynne had come downstairs and gone into the computer room while they stood silently in the shadows watching.
"Much too early," muttered Sam. "We can't even get out of this room now."
Bill Tolley pulled Sam aside. "Admiral Spaxley could be back soon, and he'd recognize me for sure. Let's not put your girlfriend in any danger."
"We're going back to the Lodge," announced Sam, ignoring Tolley's implication of a relationship with Panya. He slipped the catch on the tall window and opened the bottom sash. "And we're going out this way if we have to make a run for it."
Bill Tolley held up his hand. "There's someone out there."
Footsteps crunched slowly across the gravel, as though walking was a great effort.
"It's Denby Rawlins." Panya put a hand to her mouth.
"We should have locked him in," said Sam.
Bill Tolley put a leg over the low windowsill. "I'm going to stop him ringing the front door bell. I doubt if he'll put up much resistance."
The Second Partner of Aten stopped by the window, staring as Bill Tolley climbed out, followed by Sam and Panya. He looked like a drunk and his speech was slurred. "What ... what are you all doing here?"
"Sssh." Panya put her finger to her lips. "We mustn't wake everyone."
"Very sensible," said the Second Partner. "Dr. Wynne doesn't like a lot of noise."
"And Dr. Wynne doesn't like people who peer through holes in bathroom ceilings," whispered Sam loudly in Denby Rawlins' ear.
"Oh dear." The Second Partner stood still. "He was very cross before."
"He sounds half-witted," observed Panya. "Do you think he hit his head?"
"Drugs," said Sam. "For sure."
"Will you be my friends now?"
Sam looked at the bent figure with the striped towel on his head, and felt disgust. He could never be friends with this louse.
"What do we do with him, poor man?" whispered Panya.
Sam shrugged. Trust Panya to be all forgiving. "We need your help, Mr. Rawlins," he said coldly. "We need to know why the American came to the Institute today."
"His name is Mr. Grant. He's going to make us famous."
Sam pulled the window shut from the outside. Their voices would carry into the house and might attract attention. "Let's go for a walk in the woods, and you can tell us all you know."
"There are things I want to know." Denby Rawlins looked closely at Sam. "I want to know where the new words came from. I hope you're not angry with me any more, young man."
Sam smothered a strong desire to hit the man between the eyes. "No, I'm not angry. What do you want to know?"
"Mr. Grant found some new words in the computer room." The Second Partner seemed to be talking to himself. "Those words didn't come from our computers. I know the program."
Sam put his arm round Denby Rawlins. The bony shoulder felt repulsive, but it was essential to learn all he could. "What words are you talking about, my friend?"
"Mr. Grant insisted we put them with the handouts for the press. But they don't belong there. Mr. Grant added them when he helped Dr. Wynne prepare everything."
"What words?" repeated Sam.
Denby Rawlins stared at the ground. "I found Mr. Grant typing on the keyboard. He said he had discovered some new words. When I told him the program wasn't working, he was angry. Everyone is angry with me today. I wanted the press to see the computers working."
"We're not angry with you," said Sam. "We really like you." He turned to Panya. "God knows what he's on."
"I want my herbs."
"Soon," said Sam. "Have you got a copy of these new words?"
"Oh yes, there's a copy all right. But you won't see it until the press conference tomorrow morning."
Sam gripped the man's gown. "I need the words, and you need your herbs. Do we have a deal?"
"It's all in the computer room." The Second Partner's voice sounded faint.
"I'm going back in," said Sam suddenly, putting his fingers under the bottom of the sash.
"That's where Dr. Wynne is. You'll get caught," warned Panya.
Sam shook his head. "No I won't. This herb junkie is going to make a diversion. Bill, you get out of sight somewhere. And, Panya, take this scarecrow to the front door and start hammering on it and ringing the bell. Make as much noise as possible. Everyone will rush to see what's going on. Tell them Mr. Rawlins is ill. Which he is. Sick right through his little brain. While you're explaining everything at the door, I'll be in through this window and into the computer room."
"Sounds good to me," said Bill Tolley. "I'll come with you."
"It's not good, it's dangerous," said Panya.
"Will you'll do it?" asked Sam.
Panya nodded. "It's best not to think about it too much." Then she took Denby Rawlins by the arm.
Chapter 51
The Red Mountains, South East Egypt
UNDER THE glare of the gas lantern, Colonel Schenkmuller watched impatiently while Mamoud ran his hand over the expanse of black carbon fiber in the old aircraft hanger. From the expression on the Egyptian pilot's face it was easy to see that the satin smooth surface on top of the wings would feel exactly as it looked: like the skin of a beautiful woman, taut and responsive. But the underside was rough, resembling the dry skin of an old hag. Colonel Schenkmuller had no interest at all in any sort of woman at this moment in his life. Dedication to his paymaster was everything.
"Listen, Mamoud, and listen well. It's three in the morning, and I didn't wake you to feed your sexual appetite. No ifs and buts, you son of a bastard camel. I've got Endermann on my back. Just assure me this eagle will be ready to fly in eighteen hours time."
"Everything will be ready, Colonel."
"It had better be."
Mamoud grunted before stooping once again to examine the underside of the magnificent construction, tapping it gently, listening with expert ears to the hollow ring reverberating along the length of the fuselage. The uneven texture spoilt an otherwise sleek craft, but the surface was designed to deflect radar signals, not feel beautiful. "What's happened to friend Ahmed?" he asked.
"Ahmed's not available." Schenkmuller opened his brown leather briefcase. "Endermann will be bringing you back up here in the afternoon. He's arranged a fuel tanker from Râs Banâs to be here to meet you."
"What do we do now, Colonel?" asked Mamoud, who seemed to have finished giving himself a buzz with the carbon fiber skin.
"We're going back to Berenice to wait for Endermann. Here's the advance I talked about."
Mamoud showed a row of even teeth. "Not talked about, Colonel -- promised. You can trust this son of a bastard camel." He stuffed the thick envelope inside his zip jacket. "Wait until Endermann sees the tug. Her engine is beautiful. First class condition."
"It had better be, Mamoud. The military is jittery. As soon as you unhitch this little load it's up to you to get the hell out of it."
Mamoud smiled. "I have friends in Saudi who will welcome me."
"Don't contact them in advance. This is a secret operation. And I'm sure your escape will go to plan." Schenkmuller held the smile long enough to give Mamoud confidence.
"I have been thinking about this job day and night, Colonel. Take-off is two hours after sunset. I climb to five thousand feet, staying amongst these mountains to keep off the radar screens. When I see the moon go orange in the eclipse I release the tow line and dive to sea level." Mamoud sounded secure. "Within the hour I will be in Saudi."
"Wave-top altitude all the way there." Schenkmuller nodded. The poor sod didn't stand a chance.
"It is good to know you are there with your finger held well clear of the button, Colonel."
"Sure, Mamoud." Schenkmuller ran his hand along the wing section. The glistening black carbon fiber skin seemed to tremble under his touch. "By the time our radar picks up this eagle, it will be over the Râs Banâs base, and you'll be having a few beers with your Saudi friends."
Mamoud laughed. "And all your SAMs with their heat seeking noses won't have anything to sniff."
"Sure, Mamoud."
Schenkmuller felt no pity for the man who was going to be blown into small pieces on completion of his task. Five minutes after releasing the tow rope, explosives in the tug plane would automatically detonate. The descending fireball was guaranteed to divert attention from faint radar echoes of the Eagle of Darkness containing the nuclear warhead. That was the beauty of Endermann's plan.
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