Adam Palmer - The Moses Legacy

‘We tried, but we couldn’t get a decent signal. Then when the police saw us – maybe because he wasn’t with us – they assumed that we’d done something to him and started firing. But you know he’s all right because they said so, and as they pointed out, we were locked in the tomb too. Whoever did it might have been trying to kill us.’

‘And what about what they said about you being responsible for a death in England?’

Daniel wasn’t sure which way the wind was blowing in Walid’s mind. He knew that his and Gabrielle’s fate lay in his hands. He had to say something more to sway him.

‘The man who died was Gabrielle’s uncle. He was a great professor. The police think it was a family dispute but we think he was killed by a jealous rival.’

Daniel wanted to convey a sense of aggrieved innocence and he sensed that offering a hint of high intrigue would create the kind of cover story that a man who led a mundane life would want to believe. As a former amateur magician he knew that getting the audience to want to believe was half the trick.

‘This sounds so…’

Daniel wondered if he had over -dramatized it, so he was relieved when Walid’s face mellowed. ‘I believe you. But I have a family to feed. If we get caught then I will be in trouble too… and that will hurt my family.’

Daniel sighed. ‘You’re right, of course. I cannot ask you to put yourself and your family at risk for us – especially after we took advantage of your hospitality and didn’t tell you the truth. If you can put us ashore, we will be on our way.’

Walid looked at him, surprised.

Daniel followed up quickly. ‘You can keep the money, of course. Consider it as payment for the trouble we’ve put you through.’

Walid met his eyes. They both knew what the other was thinking, as did Gabrielle. The radio report hadn’t said anything about a reward, but at some point a reward might still be offered. Daniel was offering to pay Walid for his silence. Even if a reward was offered that dwarfed the money already paid him, Walid would consider it dishonourable to betray them after accepting their money.

‘I cannot do that,’ said Walid quietly.

‘You don’t understand,’ said Daniel. ‘I want you to keep the money. I have put you to so much trouble already… and you have a family to feed.’

‘No, it is you who do not understand,’ said Walid firmly. ‘I will take you to Cairo.’

Sarit was in the Wekalat Al-Balah Bazaar, wearing a jilbab that she had just bought to cover her body, and khimar to cover her hair. By dressing modestly she knew that men were less likely to bother her, and she also reduced the likelihood of being recognized. But at one point she would have to take a risk.

What she was looking out for were Western women – specifically Western women with large shoulder bags in which they carried everything under the sun. In some Muslim countries, women tended to be more careless than they would be in a Western street market, because they knew that the draconian laws made theft less likely. However, here the laws were not quite so severe and so the women were more careful.

Eventually, she found what she was looking for: a young, obviously Western woman who had a bag with some other items already and who was interested in trying on one of the colourful dresses. Even better, when the woman spoke, it was with a Liverpool accent. Sarit could do American accents if she had to but RP was a lot easier. And of course the passport wouldn’t say ‘Liverpool’, it would state ‘United Kingdom’.

Sarit had already bought several items and had them in a collection of bags, to create her cover, so now she was ready to pounce. She sidled up to the woman and started looking at the dresses. By giving the impression that she was not sure, she drew the attention of the merchant to her. He was not going to let her slip away if he could persuade her to stay and make a purchase.

‘Would you like to come in? We have many more dresses inside. Very nice dresses for the pretty lady.’ He pointed to the inside of the shop.

‘Oh, I like this one,’ she said, holding up a particularly gaudy, colourful embroidered dress from the rack. ‘But I was wondering if it’s too big for me. Do you have somewhere I could try it on?’

‘Yes, I have a changing room inside.’

Again, he pointed. Sarit looked down at her bag full of other purchases.

‘You can take it ins-’

She didn’t let the man finish. She half-turned to the woman who had been looking at the same colourful collection and addressed her quickly.

‘Excuse me, would you mind keeping an eye on my bag for two minutes? I just want to try this on.’

The woman looked hesitant.

‘I’ll only be two minutes. I just want to see how it looks.’

‘Okay,’ said the other woman.

And with that, Sarit went inside, leaving not only the big bag containing the items she had bought earlier, but also her shoulder bag – as if to imply that it was unsafe to take it into the shop. The reality was the exact opposite. The shopkeepers here would guard it with their lives sooner than let anyone take it, whereas outside there was a chance that someone might steal it.

Two minutes later, Sarit emerged a happy, satisfied customer, reclaimed her possessions and after a bit of skilful haggling, bought the gaudy embroidered dress. Meanwhile the woman who had guarded her possessions appeared to have made up her mind, at least to the point of narrowing down her choices.

‘Listen,’ she said, ‘could you keep an eye on my stuff? I’m going to go in and try these on too.’

‘Sure,’ said Sarit.

The girl went in, with the shopkeeper in tow. Without lowering her eyes from the merchandise in which she was feigning continued interest, Sarit opened the shoulder bag and groped around inside. Working more by feel than by look, she found the passport and quickly pulled it out and dropped it into one of her shopping bags.

Then she found the purse and moved it to the top of the shoulder bag, so that the girl would be able to get to it easily. The girl may or may not remember the purse being lower down in the shoulder bag, but this way she was less likely to notice the missing passport. In any case, if she was suspicious, it was more likely to be over the purse with money and credit cards than the passport.

Seven or eight minutes later, the girl came out and bought a couple of the dresses, oblivious to the theft of her passport.

Six days after they had set out, Daniel and Gabrielle arrived on the outskirts of Cairo.

Gabrielle had taken to life on the felucca a lot better than Daniel had expected, but Daniel had surprised himself by finding it enjoyable too – especially considering how heavily dependent he usually was on his urban comforts.

He realized that as an archaeologist, accustomed to roughing it in some pretty exotic locations, it wasn’t such an unusual experience for Gabrielle. But for a North Londoner who was used to clean hotel suites, business-class airline seating and deferential waiters, it was something of a culture shock. He wondered what Charlotte would have made of it – genteel Charlotte, whose world was that of crisp starched linen and manicured nails.

He wondered if it was because of rather than merely despite the danger that he had found himself enjoying this adventure. It was as if this was the part of his life that had always been waiting for him. It reminded him of that famous line in Henry David Thoreau’s Walden about ‘when I came to die, discovered that I had not lived’.

They bid their goodbyes to Walid and his crew, wished Allah’s blessings on his family and then set off for Cairo’s Zamalek District.