Death on Tour (27 page)

I tried to reel in my imagination. Although I was practically positive he was up to something, had he really killed two people and attacked me twice? Here, in the air-conditioned interior of our luxury coach, it seemed so unlikely. I turned my attention to my fellow passengers. After all, one of them was a smuggler and possibly a murderer.

The Petersons, with their two teenage sons, were already in their seats midway down the aisle. I considered and dismissed them. They were excited, happy, and just so normal. Besides, I liked the boys, and their parents had their hands full just trying to keep up with their kids. No time for smuggling.

Dawn and Keith Kim climbed up next. Keith was busy with his digital camera, trying to reattach the huge lens as he followed his wife down the aisle. She glanced over her shoulder at him, half exasperated, half amused. I wouldn’t give very good odds on their marriage lasting, but they seemed like ordinary tourists, just along for the ride.

Jerry and Kathy Morrison followed. Kathy looked like a jackal about to bite the head off a meerkat, and Jerry’s expression was sour. Maybe he was the meerkat. She was still limping a little from her fall at Abu Simbel, and I noticed she now wore a pair of flat espadrilles below her ACE bandage. They sat in the seat right behind Anni’s, taking advantage of injury to claim a front seat even when it wasn’t their turn. None of us would have begrudged it or even given it a second thought if Jerry hadn’t pounced on it with a smug proprietary air as though daring one of us to challenge him.

The Carpenters followed, Lydia, then Jane, then Ben. They moved quickly to the very back seat, which stretched across the aisle so that all three of them could sit side by side. Jane looked pinched and, well … frightened. And the way Lydia and Ben always flanked her like bodyguards seemed strange. Were they being supportive or were they actually protecting her? And from what? If she was really just their niece from Australia, then their behavior made no sense. On the other hand, if she was an impostor on the run from the Egyptian authorities, then their actions made sense, but hardly explained who she was and why they were helping her. The fact that Ben and Lydia were so nice and so ordinary made it that much harder to believe that anything criminal was going on.

DJ and Nimmi boarded next, DJ in full flow about the wonders that Nimmi could expect to see at Karnak. To give her credit, Nimmi was responding enthusiastically. In fact, I had never seen her respond to her big husband with less than amused affection. I thought about her shoplifting attempt in the ship’s gift shop and of his constant haggling and buying sprees. Was Kyla right? Was there more to it than just exuberant fun? How easy would it be to hide a real antiquity inside a suitcase full of plaster junk? Their kindness and generosity did not necessarily preclude a little smuggling on the side. But violence and murder? I didn’t think so.

As usual, Fiona and Flora arrived late and last. Mohammad had to help Flora up the stairs, although Fiona jerked away from him and refused his assistance. She looked as though she’d like to spit on his feet, and I wondered how he’d offended her. We were all tired after seven days of constant sightseeing, but the fatigue of travel had really caught up with the poor ditz duo. Flora’s polyester shirt was right-side out for a change, but she’d misaligned the buttons and one hem hung lower than the other. She had an odd manic gleam in her eyes behind the Coke-bottle glasses, and she was muttering to herself under her breath as she tottered down the aisle. On the other hand, she seemed cheerful about it. Fiona seemed less senile, but her black wispy hair stood at all angles as though she’d been pulling on it, and she seemed more stooped and beaten than I’d seen her before. It couldn’t be easy trying to keep her sister in line, I thought, feeling suddenly sympathetic. Looking at her, I imagined that she must have been tall and athletic in her youth. Actually, both of them must have been. Contrary to first impressions, they were not really little old ladies. They were big old ladies, now a little stooped and wrinkled, and slowly growing tired and confused. Growing old is a bitch. I hoped when I was like that, Kyla and I would still be giving old age the finger and traveling on buses around the world.

Anni and Mohammad climbed on the bus, the door closed, and we started.

“Where’s Alan?” I asked Kyla, keeping my voice low.

She raised up in her seat a little, looking over the headrests. “He must have told Anni he wasn’t coming. You know she wouldn’t have left without him otherwise.”

“Where is he, though? Why wouldn’t he have come with us?” I asked. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t explain. Alan should be here.

“How would I know?” asked Kyla. “Besides, I thought you trusted him now.”

“Yes, that’s true. Mostly.” I looked out the window without really seeing. “It just doesn’t seem right for him to miss Karnak.”

“Maybe he wasn’t feeling well. Maybe he had something else to do.”

“Like what?” I asked. He was investigating something. Something he had thought of when I showed him Millie’s notebook. But what could it be?

“Okay, maybe he didn’t have anything to do.”

“No, that’s just it. I’m worried about him. Why wouldn’t he be here?”

Kyla looked at me and shook her head. “You’ve got it so bad.”

I refused to be distracted. “Maybe I do. But that’s not the point. I don’t think any of us should be alone with all this going on. We’ve already had two murders.”

“Uh huh. Well there’s nothing you can do about it now. Too bad. You’ll just have to concentrate on your actual vacation.”

I ignored the sarcasm. “No,” I said slowly, coming to a decision. “I’m going to follow Mohammad. I’m pretty sure he’s up to something too. You can stick close to the Carpenters.”

She stared at me, appalled. “Tell me you’re joking.”

I didn’t answer.

“Look,” she went on. “Even if you’re right, it’s none of our business. The Carpenters are nice people. So they hang close to their niece, so what? She hasn’t been well—of course they are going to stay with her. And Mohammad.” She snorted. “For God’s sakes. Even if he is running some kind of illegal operation, what is it to you?”

“He might be the one who hit me and stole my necklace,” I answered. “That makes it my business. Besides, what if he is smuggling out ancient artifacts?”

“I thought that was DJ. Besides, I’m pretty sure the Egyptians are capable of protecting themselves. And you don’t have any reason to believe Mohammad hit you. You suspected Alan of the same thing. They can’t both have done it.”

That was true. I knew now it wasn’t Alan, but I didn’t want to go into details on the bus. “Look, just keep the Carpenters in sight,” I whispered. “You’re right, it’s ridiculous, but just humor me.”

“I don’t want you following Mohammad,” she said. “In the unlikely event that you’re right, it could be dangerous.”

“I just want to know if he meets up with anybody. We’ll be in a public place. What could happen?”

About ten minutes later, we were walking toward Karnak from the bus parking lot. I could see the enormous walls of the temple. From here, they seemed very plain and disappointing.

Then we rounded a row of buses and found ourselves on the Avenue of the Sphinxes.

What can I say? For a few magnificent moments, I forgot all about Mohammad, all about smuggling, all about murder. I was at Karnak. Ram-headed sphinxes, sitting in regal silence on low plinths, flanked both sides of the wide promenade approaching the temple complex. They guarded the entryway against all comers, ancient sentries carved of gray stone. Time, it seemed, was the only enemy they could not hold at bay. A few were only mildly worn, regal faces still watching with sightless eyes, but the heads of others had crumbled back into the sand, leaving only the long lion bodies intact. The voices of tourists, the endless camera clicks that filled the air had no meaning or power here. I stood mesmerized, but Kyla gave an exasperated sigh and tugged at my sleeve. We followed the others.

As always, Anni gave us an educated, thorough tour of the place, but for once I could hardly listen. More than anywhere else we had visited, Karnak captured the very essence of Egypt and its immeasurable past. Stopping just inside the first pylon, we turned to see a huge mound of earth pressing against the massive wall.

“Archaeologists were baffled for many years about how the ancient Egyptians built such enormous walls,” Anni said. “There were many theories, but no evidence. Considering the tools they had, the task of raising blocks of stone weighing hundreds and even thousands of pounds was unexplainable.”

We all nodded in agreement. Even with hundreds of workers, how had they done it?

She continued, gesturing to the pile of dirt resting against the walls. “The answer was here, at Karnak. The ancients used dirt mounds as ramps, pushing the blocks up the slope. They may even have used logs to help roll them up the hill. It was an unbelievable amount of backbreaking work, but easier than trying to lift the blocks, even if they had been able to build a device such as a crane. After the wall reached the highest point, the workers would move the mountain of dirt away. Very simple, but very clever. And for some unknown reason, they did not clear away this last pile, and so we learned their secret.”

I smiled at the pride in her voice, pride in the discovery and pride in the cleverness of the ancients who created something lasting in a land that demanded every last resource just to stay alive. The mound of dirt, the humblest artifact in the whole complex, was perhaps the highest symbol of the intelligence and sacrifice that had been required.

We followed Hello Kitty into the hypostyle hall and immediately forgot about dirt piles. Passing the second pylon, we found ourselves in a forest of stone columns, soaring sixty feet above our heads, standing in perfect rows. Each was carved like a papyrus plant, with elaborate leaves at the top, beautiful and mysterious. They looked slender and delicate until you approached more closely and got some idea of their actual size. Ten people joining hands could scarcely circle their bases. The roof they had supported centuries before had long since vanished, although high arched windows in a crumbling wall were evidence that once a second story had existed far above the ground. Remnants of faded paint adorned the undersides of the stones, and carvings of pharaohs and gods, battles and ceremonies, covered the walls. The tourists walking among the columns looked like tiny mice in a very large garden.

I took a few photographs, but I knew I would never be able to capture the beauty and sheer scale of the hall. I glanced around at the group. All eyes were turned up. Except Mohammad’s. He was standing on the edge of the group, peering out into the growing dusk, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. I thought he looked edgy and nervous. He suddenly looked in my direction, and I hastily turned away to take a picture of Kyla standing by a column.

Anni waved Hello Kitty, and we followed her between low walls, past a huge obelisk, broken and lying on its side, and into an open courtyard. To the left, we could see a rectangular lake, full of blue water gradually deepening to gray and purple in the fading light. In the center of the courtyard, a giant scarab crouched on top of a large plinth. Around it, a dozen tourists walked in circles, some clockwise, some counterclockwise. Bemused, we stared.

Anni smiled. “Legend has it that if you walk around the scarab seven times, you will receive your deepest wish. I highly recommend you try it. After all, it can’t hurt.”

“Which direction should we walk?” asked Nimmi.

“Ah, you must go counterclockwise. Otherwise it won’t work.”

Quickly, she pointed out a few landmarks, and then released us with orders to meet back by the scarab in half an hour so that we could sit together for the sound and light show. Most of the group started circling the scarab, talking and laughing as they walked. Chris and David raced each other around, their sneakers throwing dust into the air.

I looked around for Mohammad and spotted him slipping away past the fallen obelisk. I threw Kyla a look and hurried after him. Glancing back, I saw that she hesitated a second, then fell in behind the Carpenters circling the scarab.

Mohammad moved swiftly now, and I almost had to trot to keep up with him. He never looked back. After all, why should he? Even I thought I was being totally ridiculous. Why would he ever think that one of the little sheep he had been guiding all week would take it on herself to follow him? Nevertheless, I kept up, holding back just far enough to have a chance of not being seen should he turn around, yet always keeping him in sight. It wasn’t difficult. Karnak was full of tourists, most roving in small packs led by guides, but a good number wandering about on their own, pointing and snapping photographs.

He led the way back through the hypostyle hall, where the forest of columns dwarfed the tiny mortals skittering around their bases. Here he stopped, standing beside a column as though he was waiting. Uncertain, I hesitated beside a wall. Between the columns and the tourists, it wasn’t hard to duck out of sight. I decided to wait where I was, behind him, but in the shadow of a wall. I didn’t need to bother. He never turned toward me and focused only on the path ahead. Every once in a while he glanced at his watch. The shadows grew longer. I was starting to get bored. What was he doing just standing there? I began glancing away from him for longer periods, enchanted by the ruins around me. Then suddenly he was gone. Sprinting forward a few paces, I caught sight of his broad shoulders again. Relieved, I dropped back, keeping my focus on him.

He turned down a narrow path running beside the great obelisk of Hatshepsut. The twilight was waning fast, and the walls and columns cast long shadows that stretched to greet the night. I glanced at my watch. It was almost time to meet back at the giant scarab, but I couldn’t stop now. Mohammad slowed, and I quickly slipped into the shadow behind a pillar. Just in time. He gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching him and then stepped under a chain that said the equivalent of “No Admittance” in about six different languages. I hesitated. Then I did the most foolish thing I’d ever done in my whole life. I followed him.