Adam Palmer - The Moses Legacy

‘But you don’t know the name of the person you spoke to?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘What is the purpose of your visit to Israel?’

‘Sightseeing.’

It was normally the Israelis who were more suspicious, but it was understandable that the Egyptians were being cautious under the circumstances.

‘You don’t think it was a bit careless, leaving the passport in your hotel room and then wasting police time by telling them that it was missing?’

Sarit felt herself blushing. This was good. It would make her seem like an embarrassed, careless tourist.

‘I didn’t just forget it. It had actually fallen out of my bag in the hotel room and was down by the side of the bed. It was only when I searched really thoroughly that I found it. Look, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. What more can I say?’

The official looked at her coldly. ‘We’ll have to check with the police in Cairo.’

It was then that Sarit began to worry.

Daniel had initially assumed that Walid was a local Luxor man, because that was where he had boarded the felucca. But in fact he turned out to be a lot more well-connected than Daniel had imagined. He seemed to know everyone in Cairo, or at least everyone in the lower classes, from the waiters to the road-sweepers.

He also seemed to know quite a few of the Bedouin, including this group of five who were making their way across the Sinai Desert. Their original destination had apparently been Sharm el-Sheikh where they were going to ply their trade to the tourists, offering them camel rides.

But Mas’ud, the youngest member of the group, was planning on getting a job as a waiter in the hope of making his fortune or getting lucky with the younger female tourists. In some respects he was a bit like Na’if. When they were asked if they could change their plans and accompany the couple to Taba, he had been the first to point out that there were plenty of tourists there at this time of year, because it wasn’t quite as hot as Sharm. And he for his part was quite happy to try his chances there first instead of Sharm.

Of course, with or without a change of plan, escorting the pair to Taba was a service and therefore payment was due. This time Walid bargained on their behalf, promising them he would get them the best possible price. And so, 1,500 Egyptian pounds lighter, they set off on camels, with a five-man escort, from the fringes of Cairo to Taba, travelling when it was cooler, from sunrise till midday and then again from late afternoon till some time after sunset. They slept from late night till sunrise and rested – with or without sleep – from midday until the afternoon sun was low in the sky.

The Bedouin escort rode in formation with two in front of them, several yards ahead, and three a similar distance behind. The three behind were also leading four additional camels that followed by herd instinct without being tied or tethered. As Daniel and Gabrielle were also dressed in Bedouin robes (for an extra 100 Egyptian pounds), anyone in the military manning a checkpoint would have spotted a group of seven Bedouin with eleven camels and thought nothing more about it.

Being positioned in the middle gave Daniel and Gabrielle the opportunity to talk in private.

‘The Samaritans are basically concentrated in two communities. There’s an Arabic-speaking community in Kiryat Luza in the West Bank, and a Hebrew-speaking community in Holon, inside Israel.’

‘And which community are we going to visit? Kiryat Luza or Holon?’

‘Ideally Kiryat Luza. It’s actually located on Mount Gerizim, their sacred mountain, overlooking the town of Nablus. They used to be based in Nablus itself, but they fled to Kiryat Luza in the 1980s during the first intifada because they came under attack.’

‘Then wouldn’t it be safer to meet the ones in Holon?’

‘That’s probably what we’ll have to do initially. I think that most of their priests are in Kiryat Luza. But if we talk to one of their leaders in Holon, that can get us an introduction until we can meet the high priest and put our appeal to him.’

‘And you really think they’re going to show you their most sacred documents?’

‘If I can show them that I can translate them and reveal the sacred truths, then yes… I think they will.’

‘But how are we going to get across the border?’

Daniel lowered his voice. ‘I have a plan – but it’s risky.’

Neither of them noticed that in the group of three bringing up the rear, Mas’ud was taking an unhealthy interest in their conversation.

Sarit had been sitting in the waiting area on the Egyptian side of the border between Taba and Eilat for the last twenty minutes. They had told her to step aside and wait there so they could process the others more quickly. That did not bode well. Firstly, it meant that they were not letting the queue behind her pressure them into making a snap decision. Secondly it meant that they were taking it a lot more seriously than she had expected. She thought they would simply treat her as a scatterbrained tourist and wave her through. Instead, they were alert to the possibility that she might indeed be a terrorist or at least a passport thief.

The one thing she still had going for her was that it was still early morning and so it was unlikely that the right person would be on duty. Anyone with access to the police computer could confirm that the passport had been reported stolen, but only one or two police officers would be in any position to contradict the claim that the passport had been found or that she was the rightful passport holder.

Sarit didn’t even know how long the real Kelly Harker would be staying in Cairo, suspecting that she was on some package tour and that was their ‘shopping afternoon’ in the bazaar. That meant she had probably by now been given some sort of temporary travel documents by the British Embassy and then whisked away with the rest of the group. Depending on the itinerary of the group she could be on a cruise boat on the Nile, climbing Jebel Musa (the traditional Mount Sinai), or flying down to Sharm for a few days of swimming and sunbathing.

If so, then it would not be easy for the police to contact her quickly. The most the officer in charge could say would be that he hadn’t been updated and the woman had carried on with her tour group. It was extremely unlikely that Sarit would be brought face to face with the woman she was impersonating, but it was touch and go whether she would be allowed through or detained until the matter was fully and finally resolved.

‘I have some good news for you, Miss Harker,’ said the border official. ‘We spoke to the officer in charge, and he said that he was the one who recommended you to look in your hotel room to make sure the passport hadn’t fallen out there. He is pleased that you followed his advice, even if you were too embarrassed to tell him.’

A beaming smile broke out across Sarit’s face. She couldn’t believe her luck. So less than a quarter of an hour later, Sarit was crossing into Israel. On the Israeli side of the border, they started grilling her on the purpose of her visit. She cut it short by telling them in Hebrew that she was not Kelly Harker but Sarit Shalev and asking them to contact Dovi Shamir at a number she gave them.

After a two-minute conversation between officials, she was taken aside to a private room where she was allowed to talk to Dovi herself.

‘I’ve got a lot to tell you,’ she said, demonstrating her penchant for understatement.

‘You had me worried,’ he replied. ‘I’ll send a chopper.’ He hesitated to add that he was still worried.

‘Are you awake?’ asked Gabrielle.