Jack Du Brul - The Medusa Stone

Today was their last day alone together. Here at Kom Ombo, they were being joined by Dick Henna and his wife, Fay. Later, in Aswan, the two couples would leave the boat for another week of sightseeing, including a privately chartered plane trip to the massive Ramses II temple at Abu Simbel.

No sooner had Mercer thought about the impending end to their solitude than there came a disturbance at the gang-plank. At first he thought it was another curio merchant trying to sell souvenirs, but then he heard Dick Henna’s voice and Fay’s excited exclamation as she got her first look at the true nature of her ride south.

“Selome, wake up,” Mercer called, and her eyes fluttered open. He tossed her the bikini top. “Company’s arrived.”

She gave a little moue of annoyance and slipped the bikini over her chest, settling her breasts in the twin cups just as Henna and Fay came out to the sundeck.

Mercer was on his feet in an instant, shaking Dick’s hand and kissing Fay’s cheek. “Welcome to Mercer’s Barge of Sin. Your whim is our command.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again, I got into the wrong line of work.” Henna drank in the barge’s opulence until his gaze fell on Selome. He gaped.

“Selome Nagast, this is Dick and Fay Henna.” While Dick was shaking her hand, Fay shot Mercer an approving wink that made him smile. “How was your trip?”

“Great,” Dick replied. “First-class from Dulles to Cairo, private jet from there to Aswan and a limo here. Who could complain?”

Mercer had paid for it all as thanks to Dick for his help and Fay for her patience.

“And Harry?”

“He’ll be here the day after tomorrow. He’s in Israel now, helping Mossad identify the people who held him captive. I can’t believe he has that much energy. His constitution is like iron.”

“While his heart’s gold and his liver is lead,” Mercer laughed. “Why don’t you two get settled? We can talk over lunch.”

An hour later, they sat at one of the outside tables, Henna and Fay dressed in shorts and loose shirts. Mercer had thrown on a T-shirt and Selome had covered up with a colorful wrap. As they ate, two lateen-rigged feluccas dashed by the barge, the traditional craft still a regular sight on the river after countless hundreds of generations.

After the stewards cleared the table and refreshed everyone’s drinks, Mercer finished his nearly textbook history of the temple behind them and turned the conversation more serious. “We might as well get the working part of your trip out of the way so we can enjoy the rest of the week in peace.”

“I agree,” Fay chimed quickly.

“Fair enough.” Henna looked lovingly at his wife of thirty-five years. “Okay, we’ll do the bad stuff first and work our way to the good news.

“Three of the miners trapped when you escaped the mine pit have died from mercury poisoning, and four others aren’t expected to make it. Most, however, responded well to treatment and will make a full recovery.”

Mercer said nothing. He didn’t think of the thirty he had saved, only the ones he’d lost, and Selome put a hand over his.

Henna continued. “Only four Eritreans were killed during the Marine assault, and autopsies proved they were all killed by the Sudanese. Out of the Marine detachment, we lost eight men with another twelve wounded. Only three Sudanese survived the battle and are being held in Asmara awaiting trial. The minister of justice assures me their execution will be swift. In a deal between Interpol and the Eritrean authorities, they also get to keep Joppi Hofmyer and the other South African mine engineer, but Giancarlo Gianelli went to Europe. The board of directors for Gianelli SpA have been forthcoming about his other illegal activities in an attempt to stave off bad publicity. Even with good behavior, he’ll be in prison long after the next ice age.”

“Has he shown any remorse?”

“None.”

“I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Mercer grunted. He knew even a life sentence was too lenient for what Gianelli had done.

“Now for the good news. I’ll save the best stuff for last. As I’m sure you heard, Defense Minister Levine died mysteriously a couple of weeks ago. The official cover story is heart attack, but the truth is, Prime Minister Litvinoff shot Levine himself. Litvinoff called for a postponement of the elections, but it looks like when they are held, he will retain the prime ministership with a Labor Party majority in the Knesset. The other conspirators we know about will be tried in secret. Israel’s government is keeping this whole affair quiet, but our President knows exactly what transpired and he’s going to use that for leverage during the next round of peace negotiations if they balk at old promises again.”

“Carrot and stick diplomacy?”

“Not my concern, I’m just a cop.” Henna smirked. “Now for the really good parts.

“That heavy mining equipment you had ordered from Washington arrived in Eritrea the day after you and Selome came here. The Army Corps of Engineers gave them a hand getting it to the mine site as part of a cooperative loan package. Habte Makkonen has been named as the mine’s general manager, and he’ll have it in operation soon. Of course, they’re calling it the King Solomon Mine. Makkonen and the minister of mines have already struck a deal with the London diamond cartel for distribution. Within another few weeks the first stones will be shipped. No one can predict how much this will change Eritrea, but everyone agrees that their cycle of poverty is over.”

“Tell him the other part,” Fay prompted.

“Oh, yeah. Remember that safe, the one you couldn’t open at the mine?”

“Mercer tried everything short of dynamite on that stupid thing,” Selome offered.

“Gianelli refused to give us the combination, so the safe’s manufacturer was contacted and they sent one of their technicians. I guess that little pig was the latest in strongbox technology because it took the safe-cracker a full week to open it.”

“And?” It was Fay who was showing more excitement than anyone else, even though she knew the story.

“You probably heard rumors about a huge stone that had been found when you were working in the pits. Well, they were true. Rough, it weighs one hundred and twenty carats. Diamond-cutting experts who have it in Antwerp say it’ll polish out at over sixty.”

“Jesus Christ!” Mercer was stunned. “A stone that size is priceless. A collector will pay a fortune for the right to name it.”

“It’s already been spoken for.”

“Who?” Mercer asked, guessing it would soon adorn someone’s trophy wife.

“The people of Eritrea have donated it to the Smithsonian’s Museum of Natural History. It will be displayed next to the Hope Diamond in the Hooker Hall of Geology.” Henna beamed. “It’s going to be called the Mercer Diamond.”

Mercer felt a prick of tears behind his eyes and turned away before the others could see how touched he was by the gesture. When he recovered, he looked at Selome. “You knew about this?”

“I learned about it the last time I called the Minister of Mines.” She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “On behalf of all my people, we wanted some way to thank you for what you did for us.”

Such gratitude made Mercer look uncomfortable, but there was a glint of self-satisfaction behind his expression.

Later that night, Mercer and Selome made love in the big master suite. As they lay in the damp tangle of sheets, Selome rested her head on Mercer’s chest so he could not see her face when she spoke. “You’ve changed since this morning. Was it the diamond?”

He respected her enough not to evade the question. “No, it isn’t that.”