The Exodus Quest (27 page)

FIFTY

I

Captain Khaled Osman clenched his fists as he stood at the window watching Naguib drive away. When his tail-lights had vanished into the storm, he turned to Faisal and Abdullah. ‘Voices,’ he said icily. ‘Someone has been hearing voices. Men’s voices. Women’s voices.
Foreigners
’ voices. Explain this to me, please.’

‘It must be some mistake, sir,’ whined Abdullah, backing away. ‘A coincidence. Tourists. Journalists.’

‘You’re telling me you’ve allowed tourists and journalists into the site?’

Abdullah dropped his gaze. ‘No, sir. But maybe they sneaked in while…’ He trailed off, aware his boss wasn’t buying it.

Khaled folded his arms, glaring back and forth between him and Faisal. ‘You didn’t do as I asked, did you?’

‘We did, sir,’ said Abdullah. ‘I swear we did.’

‘You killed them?’

Abdullah’s complexion paled a notch. ‘Kill them, sir?’ he swallowed. ‘You never told us to kill them.’

‘
What
?’

‘You told us to silence them, sir,’ volunteered Faisal. ‘That’s exactly what we did.’

Khaled’s face was stone. ‘Silence them? And how precisely did you do that?’

‘We spaced those planks out over the shaft,’ nodded Faisal. ‘We covered them with sheets and blankets. No one could possibly have heard them.’

‘And yet someone has,’ pointed out Khaled. ‘And tomorrow morning the police are going out looking for them. They’re going to hear their voices again.’ He thrust his face into Faisal’s. ‘We’re all going to hang because you disobeyed my direct order. How does
that
feel? Does that make you feel
proud
?’

‘They won’t come back till morning,’ pointed out Nasser.

‘Yes,’ agreed Khaled. It was the first sensible thing anyone had said. He checked his watch. They still had time. ‘Get pickaxes and rope,’ he ordered. ‘And anything else we need to open the place up and close it again.’ He touched his Walther instinctively. Much though he cherished it, it wasn’t the best tool for the job in hand. He opened up his locker, clipped two of his army souvenir grenades to his belt. ‘Come on then,’ he scowled, opening the door into the maelstrom. ‘We’ve work to do.’

They ran through the deluge, clambered into the cab, then set off for the Royal Wadi, unaware of the passenger hitching a ride on their roof.

II

The water had now reached Lily’s chin. She had to tilt back her head to breathe. Her left arm was aching from holding up Gaille, still breathing faintly but not yet conscious. She transferred her to her right. She’d climbed as high as she could go on the mound, but it was being eaten away bit by bit beneath her feet. She gave a sob of fear and loneliness.

The time was fast coming when she’d have to choose. She could perhaps ride the rising tide, supporting herself on the few meagre holds in the limestone wall, but no way could she do so while still holding Gaille. She was already too close to exhaustion. And the longer she held on, the more of her own precious reserves of strength she’d burn up. Letting her go was the only sensible strategy. No one would see. No one would ever know. And even if they did, they’d agree she’d had no choice.

Right
, she told herself.
On the count of ten
.

She took a deep breath, counted the numbers out loud. But she trailed to a halt at seven, aware she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

Not yet, at least.

Not yet.

III

Naguib watched Khaled and his men drive off towards the Royal Wadi in their truck, exhilarated that the first part of Knox’s plan had gone so sweetly. He got out his mobile, called his boss.

‘You again!’ sighed Gamal. ‘What this time?’

‘Nothing,’ said Naguib. ‘At least, I’ve been listening in on all the chatter. You aren’t looking for some fugitive Westerner, are you?’

‘Of course we bloody are. You know we are.’

‘Only I think he might be here. A tall Westerner, maybe thirty, thirty-five. His face pretty badly banged up.’

‘That’s him! That’s him! Where is he?’

‘He was in a truck with some other people.’

‘Who?’

‘I didn’t see. I just saw them drive off towards the Royal Wadi.’

‘Keep on them, you hear me,’ yelled Gamal. ‘We’ll get there as soon as we can.’

‘Thanks.’ Naguib disconnected, nodded to Tarek, sitting in his passenger seat, an AK-49 across his lap.

‘All set?’ asked Tarek.

‘All set,’ agreed Naguib.

Tarek grinned and lowered his window, gave the sign to his son Mahmoud at the wheel of the truck behind, a dozen
ghaffirs
in the back, all armed to the teeth, champing at this chance to get their own back on Khaled.

It was time to roll.

FIFTY-ONE

I

Claire’s cell-door banged open and Augustin burst in, closely followed by a short, slim man in a beautifully cut charcoal-grey suit. ‘Have you told them anything?’ asked Augustin.

‘No.’ It had been close, though. She’d been on the verge of opening up to Hosni when Farooq had returned, bringing confrontation back with him. Hosni had rolled his eyes in despair, had even allowed himself a complicit smile at Claire, both aware of just how close he’d got.

‘Good girl,’ exulted Augustin, planting a kiss on her forehead. But then he took a step back, as though worried about overstepping his bounds. ‘I only mean, it’s important you take proper legal advice first.’

‘Of course,’ she agreed.

‘Great. Then come with me.’

‘I can go?’

Augustin nodded at his companion. ‘This is Mister Nafeez Zidan, Alexandria’s finest lawyer. I’ve had to use him once or twice myself. You know how it is. He’s made the arrangements. You’re free to leave, as long as you agree to come back tomorrow afternoon. That’s okay, yes?’

‘You’ll come with me?’

‘Of course. And Nafeez too.’

‘Then it’s fine,’ she said. She turned to Nafeez. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘The pleasure is mine,’ said Nafeez.

She clung to Augustin’s arm as he led her out towards the lobby. Suddenly, she couldn’t get away fast enough. ‘We had to agree to certain conditions to gain your release, I’m afraid,’ he told her. ‘The important thing was to get you out tonight.’

‘What conditions?’

‘For one thing, your passport has been confiscated and won’t be returned until the investigators are satisfied.’ He opened the front door for her, then led her down the front steps and opened the back door of Mansoor’s car which was waiting at the foot. ‘I’ve also had to assure them you won’t try to leave the country before then.’

‘I won’t,’ she promised, climbing inside. ‘But how long will it all take?’

‘It won’t be quick,’ admitted Augustin, sliding in beside her. ‘Things in Egypt rarely are.’ He took her hand in both his, gave it a reassuring press. ‘But you mustn’t worry. It’s going to work out fine. Mansoor and I have worked out a story that—’

‘Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay!’ protested Nafeez from the front, covering his ears. ‘I can’t hear this. I’m a lawyer.’

‘Forgive me, my friend,’ laughed Augustin. He turned back to Claire. ‘Just trust me. It’s going to be fine. It’s who you know in Egypt that counts. Usually I hate that about this place. Tonight I welcome it. Because I know a lot of people, Claire. A lot of connected, powerful people. I’ll call them all if I have to.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘I’ve made some other commitments on your behalf. I’ve undertaken to be personally responsible for making sure you show up for all interviews and court appearances, should it come to that, which it won’t. But I’m afraid that means you’re going to have to stay as my guest for the time being.’

‘Won’t I get in your way?’

‘Of course not. It’ll be my pleasure.’

She glanced down at her hand, still pressed between both his. He realized what must be going through her mind, blushed furiously, let go of her hand, shifted away along the back seat. ‘No!’ he protested. ‘It won’t be like that at all, I promise you. You’ll have your own bedroom. At least, it’ll be my bedroom, but I won’t be in there with you, I’ll be on the couch in the living room, I’ll just grab a blanket and a pillow, I’ve slept there before, it’s fine, it’s comfortable, much more comfortable than the bed actually, I don’t know why I don’t sleep on it all the time, anyway you’ll be completely safe, that’s the point, I give you my word.’

He broke off his schoolboy blathering, drew a deep breath, looked directly into her eyes to see if she’d bought it, evidently came to the conclusion that he still needed to give it one last push. ‘Honestly, Claire,’ he insisted, ‘I’d never dream of taking advantage of you like that, not after everything you’ve just risked for me.’

There was a heartbeat of silence.

A second heartbeat.

‘Oh,’ she said.

II

Lying exposed to the full savagery of the thunderstorm on the roof of the truck, Knox looked back down the road and realized a major weakness in his impromptu plan. Even with the truck’s headlights on full beam, visibility was dire. But Naguib and Tarek wouldn’t be able to use their lights without giving themselves away. And driving without lights in these conditions would be almost impossible.

A vicious squall buffeted the truck. It lurched so sharply sideways that water sloshed from the top and Knox had to cling desperately on. Their tyres regained grip, but they slowed down after that to a more prudent pace. He looked behind again. Still no sign of anyone. They reached the end of the road and parked by the generator building. An appropriate place for all this to end. Geometry might be a Greek word, but it had been an Egyptian science, developed in response to the annual Nile inundation which flooded the surrounding land, meaning that owners of valuable property needed reliable ways to determine what land belonged to whom when the waters receded, while the authorities had needed fair methods to work out taxes too.

That these skills had been used by Egypt’s architects was proved by the orientation and proportions of the Great Pyramids. Yet talk of ‘sacred geometry’ made Egyptologists uncomfortable; it smacked too much of New-Age thinking. And while the Egyptians had clearly had both the knowledge and the ability to incorporate it into their city planning and architecture, the archaeological record showed that they hadn’t often had the inclination.

At first glance, the city of Amarna seemed designed to fit its landscape. But a British architect had recently mapped the key sites, with remarkable results. Amarna, it seemed, hadn’t been haphazardly laid out at all. The entire city was in fact a vast rectilinear open-air temple that straddled the Nile and faced the rising sun. What was more, if you drew straight lines from each of the boundary stele through the main palaces and temples, they all converged on a particular point, like the rays converging on the sun in so much of Amarna’s art. And that focal point was right here at Akhenaten’s Royal Tomb. It was as though he’d seen himself as the sun, shining eternally upon his people and his city.

The truck’s doors opened. Khaled and his men hurried out, hunched beneath waterproofs, their torch-beams feeble things quickly lost in the massive darkness. Knox’s mobile couldn’t find a signal, overwhelmed by the storm and the high walls of the wadi. He was on his own, for the time being at least. Water slopped over the edge as he lowered himself down. His shoes squelched as he walked, so he kicked them off and tossed them into the night. Then he followed Khaled and his men along the wadi floor, wading barefoot through the storm-water as it cascaded like rapids across the scree.

III

Abdullah glowered at Khaled’s back as they laboured up the hillside and then across the plateau, his feet soaked and sore and cold inside his ill-fitting boots. What madness this was! No way would they be able to make it down that sorry excuse for a path in such a torrent. But Khaled had anticipated this. There was a protruding spike of rock on the hilltop above the tomb mouth. He tied a slipknot in one end of a coil of rope, slung it around this spike, then tossed the rest over the edge. ‘Down you go, then,’ he told Abdullah.

‘Me?’ protested Abdullah. ‘Why me?’

‘We wouldn’t be in this damned mess if you’d followed my orders.’

‘You should have been clearer,’ muttered Abdullah.

‘On the phone? On the phone?’

Abdullah grudgingly took hold of the rope. He gave it a couple of tugs to test it. It promptly rode up the spike and came free. ‘Look!’ he said.

‘Stop whining, will you?’ said Khaled, looping it back around, pulling the knot tighter. ‘Just climb.’

‘Don’t worry,’ murmured Faisal. ‘I’ll keep an eye on it.’

Abdullah nodded gratefully. Faisal was the only one he trusted. He fed the rope through his belt, fastened his torch-strap around his wrist, traded his AK-47 for Nasser’s pickaxe, which he slung over his shoulder. Then he lowered himself backwards over the edge, like he’d seen on TV, but his boot slipped on the slick rock, he crashed into the cliff-side, hanging on desperately while Khaled and Nasser laughed themselves sick. He was still muttering curses when he reached the relative sanctuary of the tomb mouth.

The cement had formed a crust, but hadn’t yet dried underneath. It came away easily when he attacked it with the point of the pickaxe, fragmented grey mush washing down the cliff-face. He made a hole large enough to reach his arm inside and set his torch down at an angle to light his work, then hacked out more cement. Lightning lit up the wadi all around. He braced himself for the crack of thunder, but just before it started he could have sworn he heard a different noise, that of automatic gunfire. He anchored one hand inside the tomb, leaned out and looked up to find out what the hell was going on. But there was no one up top to answer his question.

IV

It was pure luck that Khaled saw the man. He just happened to be glancing back when a lightning bolt illuminated the entire plateau, revealing him crouched some thirty paces away, mobile phone in his hand.

The knowledge of how he’d been tricked was both instantaneous and complete. Instead of fear, Khaled felt only a great and visceral rage. He snatched Nasser’s AK-47, turned back towards the man. Darkness had fallen once more, he couldn’t see a thing, but he sprayed the horizon all the same, hoping providence was with him.

‘What is it, sir?’ asked Nasser.

‘Company.’

Lightning shuddered again, revealing the man crawling on his belly like the snake he was. ‘There!’ he yelled, firing another burst. ‘Get him.’