David Gibbins - Pyramid

“She doesn’t have to worry about her own future. We’ll see to that.”

“How’s Costas?”

Jack jerked his head toward the space under the bow where they had hidden away on the voyage toward Cairo the day before. “The first thing he did was to burrow in his kit bag for some sandwiches he left there. A reserve supply, apparently. Ever since then he and Lanowski have been in there hunched over something technical on the computer. Costas is a rock. Guys like him don’t get traumatized.”

“That’s why you love him, isn’t it?”

Jack paused, the pent-up emotions of the last twenty-four hours suddenly welling up. He swallowed hard, looking away. “Not the word I’d use.”

“No, of course not. Men like you don’t. But you know what I mean.”

Jack took a deep breath. “We just look after each other, that’s all.”

She held his arm. “And you, Jack? You’ve seen some terrible things. You’ve killed people. Don’t tell me that will all wash over you.”

“It won’t. But I’ve been here before. I’ll be fine.”

The felucca came alongside the riverbank, and the plank was laid ashore and tied to the gunwales. Jack gestured at Mohammed. “What will your uncle do?”

“He’ll go back to Alexandria. He’s not like Sahirah, not like me, people who can carve out lives for themselves anywhere in the world. Mohammed is a Nile fisherman and a felucca captain, and his whole life is here. If people like Mohammed were to leave Egypt, then it truly would cease to exist. They are her past, and her future.”

“If there is one.”

“There will be. Inshallah.”

“And you, Aysha?”

Her face hardened. “If it hadn’t been for my son and Maurice, I’d have been with Ahmed right now killing extremists. But I’ll never turn my back. One day the flag will fly again over our institute in Alexandria. You’ll see.”

The boy jumped ashore, laying the plank and holding the bow by the painter. Aysha got up and led Sahirah across to the plank, and Jack followed, pausing to shake hands with Mohammed and his son. He was followed by Costas and Lanowski, who brought the two empty kit bags, Lanowski’s laptop, and any other evidence of their presence with them. Jack crouched down on the riverbank, picked up a handful of dust from the ground, and let it fall through his fingers. “So near, and yet so far.”

“What do you mean?” Costas said.

Jack peered up at him. “You and I know what we saw, but the rest of the world will only be able to take it on our word. It could be a lifetime before anyone gets the chance to explore where we went again.”

Costas went rigid, and put up a finger. “Ah. I nearly forgot.”

“What is it?”

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in tissue. “Two microchips, from your camera and mine. All the video we took.”

Jack stared, stunned. “Where did you hide that?”

“You don’t want to know. It was in the alley just before we were captured. I don’t know how I did it, but I did. Must have looked pretty odd to anyone watching. But there was no way I was going to ditch those chips after all we went through. No way.”

Jack stood up, suddenly more elated than he could remember ever feeling. “Costas, you know sometimes I really do… appreciate you. Yes, that’s the word. Appreciate . Brilliant. You just tied a big red bow around this whole project.”

Costas pushed the package back into his pocket and zipped it up. “Glad to be of service.” He pointed into the air. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Two Israeli Air Force F16s streaked far overhead, and in the distance Jack could see the Lynx swooping in low from the north, the sound of its rotor reverberating off the waters of the Nile. He shook the rest of the dust from his hand and stood up. “That was quite a night,” he said.

“And now a new day dawns.”

“Yes, it does.” Jack turned and watched Aysha and Sahirah slowly make their way from the felucca to the landing site, followed by Lanowski. “You know that feeling when you’ve been weighed down by a big project, a really important one, and it’s gone on and on because you’ve wanted to get it right, and then finally you’ve nailed it and it feels as if the whole world has lifted off your shoulders?”

“It makes everything ahead seem that bit more exciting. The little things. A holiday on the beach. Gin and tonics. Sandwiches.”

“The big things. That Phoenician shipwreck off Cornwall. They really were the first Europeans to reach America. Whatever did happen to Akhenaten?”

“Some downtime with Maria? A little holiday with your daughter?”

“That too.”

Lanowski came over to them, his robe and artificial beard removed but his face still darkened with polish. “Well, boys,” he said, holding up one hand palm out. “Did we do it, or what?”

Costas high-fived him, and Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “You made the team, Jacob. Good work.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” Lanowski squinted into the dust, watching the helicopter begin its descent. “Is it always like that? I mean, the bad stuff? The present day?”

“Not always,” Jack said, following his gaze. “Sometimes, the adventure’s all in the past.”

“I think,” Lanowski said, putting a finger to his lips and furrowing his brow, peering at Jack, “don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, but I think I’d prefer that.”

Jack suddenly felt dead tired; he was feeling the pain in his arm continuously now. He nodded slowly. “Wouldn’t we all.”

They crouched against the downdraft of the rotor, waiting until the Lynx had landed and powered down. Lanowski hurried off to help Sahirah and Aysha on board, and Costas got up, holding the rim of his hat against the dust. “I had a brainstorm just now in the boat about Little Joey,” he said, his voice raised against the noise. “Well, it was Lanowski, actually. It was about the microprocessor for the robotics, and also a small problem with how he swims. If you want a state-of-the-art robot to explore that Phoenician wreck, look no further than our new creation, Little Joey Four.”

Jack cracked a smile. “The big things.”

“You got it. Come on, Jack. Time to let Egypt go.”

Five days later Jack sat under an awning on the aft deck of Seaquest , gently easing his arm out of its sling and attempting to raise a water bottle to his lips. It was still too painful, and he let it down, gasping as he slid the arm back into the sling and sat back again. With his other hand he picked up his phone and looked at the picture that Rebecca had just sent him from Greece, showing Maria far above climbing a rope ladder to one of the monasteries on Mount Athos.

Jack suddenly remembered a promise he had made to himself. Maria . He made a mental note to contact her when he was back in action again. He put on his sunglasses, pulled down the peak of his cap, and looked disconsolately at the Mediterranean, wishing above all things that he could be diving into those crystal-clear waters right now. The hatch clanged behind him and Costas came sauntering out wearing a spectacular Hawaiian shirt and knee-length shorts, his feet bare. He sat down heavily on the deck chair beside Jack, cracked open a can of drink from the selection on the table, and put on his sunglasses, pushing aside a map of the world that Jack had been perusing. “How’s the world’s worst patient?” he said.

“Don’t ask,” Jack grumbled. “The doctors say three weeks until I can dive. Three weeks . I can make it one week, no more. It wasn’t even a compound fracture.”

“The small matter of a bullet hole.”