by Tom Hunter
“Once it’s finished doing its work, there’s nothing I won’t know about you, no secret that won’t be mine to exploit as I see fit, no matter what the situation. Even your own wife won’t be able to tell the difference between us.”
“You’re a monster!” cried Haisam.
“No, I’m you,” Pin corrected. “Gord?” The brute stepped forward, clasping Haisam’s head in his hands, to hold it steady as Pin took long plastic ties from his pocket and started to strap it in place.
“I really would advise you not to fight against this,” Pin told Haisam. “Don’t get me wrong. I give you this advice not out of altruism. It is of no consequence to me what ultimately happens to you. However, due to its experimental nature, use of the device has been fatal on occasion, especially if the user has a weak heart, so the more relaxed you can be, the longer you’ll survive. It really would be most inconvenient if you were to die before I gathered all the data I need. You see, it measures your response to the full range of emotions, including both pleasure and pain.”
Gord snorted with laughter as Pin stepped back, critically eyeing his handiwork to ensure that the brain scanning device, roughly the size of an alarm clock, was properly fitted.
“Don’t worry, Mr Ganem,” he said. “I’ll be sure to read your children a bedtime story when I tuck them up to sleep tonight.”
He took a remote control out of his pocket, handing it to Gord, before turning and leaving the room. The henchman grinned cruelly as he flicked the switch.
All Haisam could do was scream.
Three
“Don’t let go, Nafty!” yelled Samuel, as the dangling man desperately reached out with his other hand, doing his best to grab hold of Samuel, the helicopter, anything that would save him from falling to his inevitable doom.
The helicopter’s engine whined as it began to rise.
“What are you doing?” screamed Nafty, barely audible over the engine noise, fruitlessly kicking his legs about to try and propel himself upwards as Samuel yelled at Josh to bring the aircraft back down.
“There might be another invisible hazard down there,” countered Josh. “Going lower won’t do any of us any good if I fly into another hidden rock. I can’t risk crashing. It’ll kill us all. You’ll just have to hold on until I find a safe space to land.”
“Are you kidding me?” Nafty screeched. “Get me down right now!”
“I’m doing the best I can,” Josh yelled back, ignoring Nafty’s anxious cries. “I want to save all our lives and right now, I don’t know if any of us are safe.”
“I promise you, there won’t be any more unexpected surprises,” Samuel told the pilot. “The map would say if there was.”
“Yeah, it did such a great job with that camouflaged cave,” Josh grunted. “Nuh-uh. I’m not taking the risk, not unless you’ve checked and double checked that we are where you think we are. And do you want to be the one to explain to Nafty that you had to let go of him to consult the map that got him into this mess?”
“The map flew out the door,” Samuel protested. “But I’ve got it memorized, so I’d know if there were any other hidden obstacles. Now please, Josh. Just take us down. Do you really want Nafty’s death on your conscience? I know you. You’d never forgive yourself.”
“I’d rather not have my death on my conscience,” muttered Josh, but he did as he was told, lowering the helicopter as slowly as he dared in case another rock outcrop came looming up out of nowhere.
“Hold on, Nafty,” urged Samuel. “We’re almost there.”
Nafty closed his eyes, swallowing as he tried to keep hold of Samuel’s hand, which was becoming increasingly slippery with sweat.
Looking out across the approaching ground, Samuel noticed something flapping about the rear back strut supporting the helicopter’s landing bars.
“The map!” he gasped, watching as the wind whipped the ancient paper around, so far keeping it in place by wrapping it around the strut. Glancing down at Nafty, Samuel mentally calculated whether he could angle himself around to recover the map before it was lost--for good, this time. If he could just wedge his foot under the seat to anchor himself, it might give him enough reach to grab it as long as Nafty could hold on with one hand while Samuel lunged out.
If… if… if…
A little part of Samuel died as he watched a gust of wind catch at the map, tearing it away and sending it fluttering off into the sands to be lost for a few more centuries. He felt a brief moment of madness, the urge to throw himself after it in case by some miracle he could save the precious document, Nafty, and himself, but self-preservation won out and Samuel put all thoughts of the map to the back of his mind as he fought to keep Nafty safe.
“Don’t let me go! Please don’t let me go,” pleaded Nafty as Josh took what seemed like an eternity to land the helicopter.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” Samuel reassured him. “You’re going to be fine. Now in a moment, we’re going to be low enough for you to let go. You need to fall and then get away as fast as you can so Josh can bring this thing down without landing on your head. Are you ready?”
“No, no!” Nafty shook his head, eyes wide in panic. “I can’t let go. Not until my feet feel the ground beneath me.”
“Trust me,” soothed Samuel. “I’ve kept you alive so far, haven’t I? I wouldn’t go to all that trouble to lose you now. When I count three, I’m going to let go. You need to drop, roll, and run. Okay?”
“No! No!” Nafty protested as Samuel started counting.
“One… two… THREE!” True to his word, Samuel let go. Without Samuel to help him, Nafty lost his tenuous grip on the other man’s hand. Screaming, he fell, only to have his cries abruptly cut off a second later as he hit the ground, all the breath knocked out of his body by the sudden impact.
“Get back!” Samuel made a shooing motion with his hands, urging Nafty to get away as the man rolled around, his arms up in front of his face to protect his eyes from the artificial sandstorm created by the aircraft. Still clawing at his face, Nafty scrambled away from the descending helicopter, well out of reach of its deadly whirling blades.
There was a slight jolt, and finally they were all safely back on solid ground. Samuel climbed out of the helicopter, looking mournfully in the direction he’d last seen the map.
“Thank you, my friend. Thank you. I am forever in your debt.” Nafty threw himself at Samuel’s feet as Samuel tried to get him to stand up.
“You’d have done the same for me,” Samuel told him. “I just wish that I could have found a way to save you and the map.”
Nafty sat up, scowling. “What do you mean, save the map?”
“It was blown out of the door and got wrapped around the landing bars,” Samuel shook his head, running his hand through his hair in exasperation and gazing out across the desert, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the lost document. “Believe me, I did my best to get it back, but it was too risky.”
“What do you mean, too risky? Do you know what that map is worth?” Nafty pulled himself to his feet, all his gratitude wiped out by the news. “How could you let it go just like that?”
“You’re welcome for saving your life,” shrugged Samuel.
“We could have followed the map to endless treasure, relics, antiquities,” Nafty raged. “Now they’ll all be lost forever and it’s all your fault.”
“I guess I’ll just have to live with the guilt,” deadpanned Samuel. “Next time you’re falling out of a helicopter, I’ll remember to save all the ancient documents before I help you.”
“Er… Guys?” Josh’s voice broke through their argument. “I hate to interrupt a lover’s tiff, but that cave that we almost crashed into? It’s gone again.”
Nafty gasped, as he and Samuel scrambled over to where Josh was standing. Sure enough, there was nothing to see but billowing sand dunes, no sign of a rocky outcrop anywhere.
“I couldn’t have imagined it, could I?” Josh shook his head, as if to shake free any hal
lucination.
“Nope.” Samuel smiled smugly. “The cave’s there all right. We all saw it. We’re just outside of whatever illusion it was that blocked it from view. I told you, the map was right!”
He strode forward. Josh and Nafty watched in astonishment as Samuel suddenly vanished. A few seconds later he reappeared, walking backwards. Stopping to gaze up in admiration at the invisible shield for a moment, he walked forward once more, performing another incredible disappearance as if he were part of a magician’s stage act.
Josh and Nafty stood in stunned silence as this time, just Samuel’s grinning face reappeared as he leaned forward through the invisible wall. “So are you two going to follow me here or are you just going to stand around catching flies all afternoon?”
His words broke the spell that had fallen over Josh and Nafty as they hurried forward to join him.
“This is weird, man.” Josh shook his head as the cave suddenly appeared without warning, just as it had when he’d flown over it. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And you say that it was an ancient map that brought us here? How?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Samuel replied, heading towards the cave mouth.
“If this is a taste of what’s to come, just think what else that map could have shown us,” moaned Nafty, as he hurried to keep up with the archaeologist.
Four
“See you later, Malik.”
“Have a good weekend.”
Workers at the Ministry of State for Antiquities started to switch off their computers and finish up their work, winding down for the night as they looked forward to a couple days’ rest after another long, hard week. One cubicle bore the nameplate Shafira Khouri. In it, a woman of around thirty, attractive and olive-skinned with her long hair all brushed over to one side, opened yet another email. She clicked on the attachments it contained to examine a series of holoimaging snapshots of a dig site out in the wilds of Egypt.
Printing out the email and attachments so she could examine them more carefully, Shafira swiveled in her chair to collect the images from the drawer of the printer next to her desk. Laying them out in front of her for comparison, she read the accompanying text again. Thankfully, the foreman who had filed this report was meticulous about detail, so she wasn’t going to have to chase him for more information about whether they’d followed protocol every step of the way or cut corners.
Sighing, Shafira picked up an image that showed a group of beaming archaeologists, the man in the middle proudly holding up an ancient vase. Even in the grainy printout, it was obvious that the vase was in excellent condition, its decoration almost as fresh as it must have been when it was first painted. Sitting back in her chair, she wondered what it would be like to be there with them instead of stuck in an office, living vicariously through reports from in the field. What must it feel like to be the first person to see an artifact after thousands of years? Sure, eventually it would be on display in one of Egypt’s museums for crowds of tourists to coo over, that is, if it were deemed worthy, but it wouldn’t be the same as seeing it in situ.
She sighed again, as she moved onto the next email in her never ending backlog. There were more attachments this time, so after she sent them off to print, she decided that now was the perfect time to take a break while her antiquated printer churned out the detailed color images.
Stepping out into the main office, Shafira crossed over to the kitchen area where the budget coffeemaker sat, still half-filled with coffee. Pouring some of the steaming beverage into her favorite mug, she added enough sugar and cream to make it drinkable and turned to go back to her desk, almost running into Faroukh, the clerk who worked a couple cubicles away from her. It was only her quick reactions and some nifty footwork that saved him from wearing her drink.
“More coffee? At this hour?” he remarked. “Don’t tell me you’re still working? Surely a young woman like you would want to be anywhere but here.”
“I’d love to go home,” Shafira replied, “but if you saw the size of my inbox, you’d understand. I want to get a few more emails done so I won’t be freaking out over the weekend about how much stuff’ll be waiting for me on Monday.”
“I must say that I’ve always admired your work ethic,” Faroukh told her, “but take some advice from one who knows.” He leaned forward as if sharing a great secret. “The paperwork never ends!” He leaned back, smiling and nodding, as though he’d uncovered the deepest mystery in the universe. “If you’re sensible, you’ll do what you can while you’re on the clock and leave the second your hours are over. You’ll only burn yourself out otherwise.”
“Thanks, Faroukh,” Shafira replied, wearily. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Of course, if you’re stuck for somewhere to go and you want some company…” Faroukh raised an eyebrow suggestively.
“Thanks, Faroukh,” Shafira repeated forcefully, turning to go back to her cubicle.
“You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Faroukh’s voice followed her. “Remember what I said. Don’t give this place more than you have to. It’ll only sap your soul!”
“I’m fully aware of that,” Shafira muttered, as she slipped back into her seat, picking up the printouts to work through before letting them drop back onto the desk. Idly swiveling her chair as she sipped at her coffee, she wondered whether this was going to be it for the rest of her life. She remembered how excited she was when she received her acceptance letter from the Ministry, naively believing that if she worked hard enough, she’d quickly climb the ladder.
It wasn’t long before she realized how mistaken she’d been, but there weren’t many other openings out there for a non-graduate history fanatic that allowed her to get this close to Egypt’s ancient heritage. She was lucky to have this job. She knew that. But still. There were only so many photographs you could examine before going cross eyed.
Looking at a shot of some archaeologists busy uncovering some stone slabs, she was struck by how much one of them looked like her older brother, Yusuf, when he was her age. The thought that Yusuf would ever been caught dead at a dig site made her snort her coffee. Back then, he would have been too busy getting into trouble at wild parties to even find his way to an excavation, let alone do any work there.
“But then, that’s why you’re at the Ministry and Yusuf is banned from half the bars in Cairo,” she reminded herself, moving onto the next image.
Shafira soon fell into a rhythm, the routine of opening emails, printing them, and checking the details, and routing to one of many automated business processes. Slowly but surely, her backlog became smaller and smaller until she felt that the end was finally–finally!–in sight. Two more emails and she could get out of here.
Someone cleared their throat behind her. “Miss Khouri?”
Shafira jumped, not having heard anyone approach, and swiveled round in her chair. She gulped when she realized that none other than Director Haisam was standing in front of her.
“Sir.” She jumped up to stand, smoothing down her jacket.
“Please. Call me Haisam,” her superior smiled. “There’s no need for all that formality when you’re talking to me.”
“Of course… Haisam.” Shafira inclined her head a little in agreement, despite her discomfort at the notion of being so familiar with someone who held such an important position. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were standing there. I thought I was on my own in the office.”
“You very nearly are,” the Director informed her. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons why I’m here. You’re one of the very few people in your department who hasn’t raced for the door the minute the clock turned 5:30. That kind of dedication will take you far.”
“Thank you, sir…Haisam.”
“I have a little project for you,” Haisam announced. “Well, when I say ‘little’, what I actually mean is that it’s really rather important, although I don’t think it will impact too much on your other duties. Indeed, if at all po
ssible, I’ll need you to finish it this evening, but a woman like you should be more than capable of getting the job done. What do you say? Do you have time to do a small favor for your Director?”
Shafira’s heart sank. The subtle emphasis on his position didn’t escape her. She didn’t need a last minute job when she was surviving on caffeine fumes and sheer stubborn determination, but making a good impression on the Director could mean a huge difference to her career. Maybe she’d finally get out of this cubicle and onto more challenging work.
“Of course,” she told him, hiding her irritation.
“Excellent!” The Director beamed, clapping his hands together. “Just what I was hoping to hear. Now, then. I’ve heard mention that the Bruard have been active in the region you are responsible for monitoring, so I will need to personally double check all your reports before you send them to the records department for annotation and publishing. I will need you to gather together everything that you’ve worked on for this past week in date order, sorted by area code and relic type.”
Shafira kept her expression passive, but inside she was screaming. Did he have any idea how long that was going to take? And he waited until what time on a Friday night?
“No problem, Haisam,” was her smooth reply. “Are there any type of relics in particular that you think may be of interest to the Bruard?”
“I’m not sure,” the Director said. “However, I do know that the cases you’re in charge of have been flagged as being of interest. I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it.”
“Of course. I’ll get straight onto it.”
“One more thing.” Haisam stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders, gazing intently into her eyes. “I’m sure I don’t need to point it out to you, but since the Bruard could be involved, this project may well be a matter of national security. As a consequence, the only person you may discuss it with is me. Under no circumstances should you mention what you are doing to anyone else.”