Lee Child - MatchUp

“When’s the last time you and she hooked up?”

“Only that once, months ago. I have a girlfriend now. Flora. She’s Albanian. She works nights with me.”

“Anyone else have an interest in Ms. Winters?” Hauck asked. “An interest she didn’t return?”

“You must be kidding. Everyone is all over everyone here. They’re students. They’re here for a while, in Egypt, and then they go. It’s the song of the Nile.”

Hauck said, “We’re not on the Nile.”

“Someone’s song then. All the foreigners here are temporary, like me.”

The salad and chicken came.

“You guys want a beer?” Ivo asked, returning to his professional manner.

“No thanks,” Harper said.

“I’ll have one,” Tolliver said.

“If I were you, I’d watch the lettuce,” Nabila warned him again. “Maybe stay with the tomatoes and cheese.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, lifting his fork. “I have a cast-iron stomach.”

Nabila shook her head, with a glance toward Hauck. “What is it you say? Famous last words.”

THEY WALKED A FEW MINUTES before getting back in the car. From their position on a natural rise in the land, Nabila pointed out the location on the water where the famous Pharos Lighthouse had stood on a promontory, maybe an island? Hauck couldn’t tell.

“It was one of the wonders of the ancient world,” she said. “But it was destroyed by an earthquake in 1480. “It isn’t far from the location of our famous library.”

“Can we please get going?” Harper said, after taking in the view. “You said we could go to where she lived?”

“Of course,” the inspector said. “This way back to the car.”

Harper turned and had taken a couple of steps before she stopped. Her face completely pale.

Tolliver leaped to her side.

She buckled.

Hauck grabbed her by the arm to keep her from hitting the ground. Her face had turned pasty, her eyes glazed and rolled up in her head.

“The food?” Nabila said anxiously. “I warned you.”

“No.” Harper shook her head as Hauck helped her back into a standing position. “It’s not the food. This is different. Something’s here.”

“Meaning what?” Hauck pressed, helping her over to a parked car where she could lean.

Tolliver said, “Dead people.”

“Stephanie?” Nabila asked. “Here?”

“No.” Harper laid a hand to her head and blew out her cheeks. “Ten times stronger. A hundred times. Something’s here. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like it. It’s as if my legs just gave out.” Her color was still bad. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. Then she pointed away from the harbor, blinking, a look of determination creeping on her face. “What’s over there?”

“It’s just a park,” Hauck said, looking at a fenced-in area behind a short wall against a hillside with a small stone building in the center.

“No, it’s not a park,” replied Nabila. “It’s Kom el Shoqafa. It means Mound of Shards. The catacombs.”

“Catacombs?”

“From the first century AD. It was a burial place for ancient Romans.” They all stared at her. “There were once hundreds of bodies discovered there. But they’re all a hundred feet underground.”

Harper still looked ashen and weak. She turned to Tolliver. “I’ve never felt anything that powerful in my life.”

“Is Stephanie there?” Tolliver asked.

Hauck could see that the man was a true believer. No doubt his sister was for real.

“Nothing modern. Can you help me? I want to get a little closer.”

With Hauck on one arm and Tolliver on the other, they helped Harper walk to the grounds’ entrance. A tour bus was parked nearby.

“This is the strongest feeling I’ve ever felt. There must have been hundreds buried here? Thousands.”

“That’s right.” Nabila regarded her with astonishment. “But you have to know, the bodies are all gone. They excavated this site in levels. There are three levels underground. In each, they found more bodies. But they’re all empty now. The bone remains were all moved, years ago, to the museum of archaeology.”

Harper gingerly walked over to the site. Struggling against the weakness that seemed to overwhelm her, she slowly seemed to gather herself. Then she just stared at the tomb for a long time.

“You say they dug this out in levels?”

Nabila nodded. “The last one was years ago. A hundred feet deep.”

“There are more,” Harper said.

“That’s impossible. This catacomb is one of our most studied sites. Dozens of archaeologists have been through it.”

“They should keep digging.”

And Hauck, much to his surprise, found himself agreeing.

HARPER SEEMED TO HAVE FULLY recovered by the time they reached Stephanie’s apartment. She’d lived in a Western-style building, seven stories high, that stood in contrast to the other structures on the street because it was so new. The honey-colored stone was clean, and there was even a lobby attendant in the modern entrance area. Hauck noticed that the people walking through were all European. This was expat lodging.

And maybe government as well.

“I assume this is pretty expensive housing,” he said to Nabila.

She nodded. “There is parking behind and underneath the building with an armed guard at all times. We do our best to make foreigners feel safe here, whether native Egyptians or whomever.” She was quite expressionless as she said this, and Hauck could only guess at her feelings. But he found himself thinking that, considering the income disparity between the average Egyptian and the students who could afford to study abroad, having an armed guard watch over the vehicles was simply a wise precaution.

Nabila talked to the doorman in rapid Egyptian. The man then made a phone call and nodded.

“The roommates are home and say we can come up,” Nabila said.

“I’m not sure what good my going up there will do.” Harper huddled, thin and tense, against her brother. “They’re all alive.”

Hauck stifled a laugh. “Maybe you should come up because you’re Stephanie’s age. You might be more tuned into her roommates than I’ll be.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed. She seemed to suspect she was being cozened into the expedition.

“All right,” she said grudgingly, and they entered an elevator.

At the third floor they exited into a hall that was clean and wide, but not elaborately decorated. Stephanie’s door was to the right at the end of the corridor. In answer to Nabila’s knock a short girl with permed red hair swung open the door and stepped back to admit them. Hauck figured she was in her upper twenties, and she was wearing clothes that looked expensive. Could be knockoffs, though, like Nabila’s sunglasses. Hauck was no style expert.

“This is Jerri Sanderson,” Nabila said, then she pointed to each of her companions and introduced them.

“Come sit down,” Jerri said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

They all declined, then took seats in the small common living area.

“Have you found out anything new?” Jerri asked.

“Nothing,” Nabila said. “Where is your other roommate?”

“Tina’s on her way. She got held up at the university.”

“Do you attend there as well?” Hauck asked.

Based on nothing all that tangible, he was not an immediate fan of Jerri Sanderson.

“No. I’m a working girl,” Jerri said. An edge of anger had entered her voice. “I’m here as a gofer for an interior designer. He does places for Westerners. So they’ll feel . . . comfortable. ”