Will Adams - The Alexander Cipher

Knox glanced around to make sure no one was looking, then hid himself from view behind the base of Pompey's Pillar. He checked his watch, took two deep breaths, turned on his cell phone, and began pressing numbers.

"What do you mean, you've lost him?" yelled Nessim.

"He's turned off his phone."

Nessim punched his dashboard so hard, he scraped skin from a knuckle. "What was his last location?"

"I told you: near the railway station."

"Stay on the line," ordered Nessim, hurtling through the streets. "If he makes another call, I want to know at once." It was five minutes before they reached the station. Nessim drove around for a while, but there was no sign of Knox or his Jeep. Then Badr spoke again. "He's turned it back on. He's making another call."

"Where?"

"South of you," said Badr. "He must be right next to Pompey's Pillar."

Nessim and his men ducked to look out the windows as they drove. Passing a side street, he glimpsed the marble pillar thrusting upward just a kilometer away. "We're on our way," he said. He roared down the road, cut across traffic to Sharia Yousef, then headed along a wide boulevard with a brownstone wall to his right, Pompey's Pillar on the left. He pulled a U-turn and swerved up onto the pavement, and the four of them jumped out and hurried inside to the ticket booth. "Is this the only entrance?" he asked the woman, pushing some bills through the window.

"Yes."

"Stay here," he ordered Hosni, as he and the other two men went into the site. Then he asked Badr on his phone, "Is he still on the line?"

"Yes," confirmed Badr. "You're right on top of him."

"Then we've got him!" exulted Nessim.

Nicolas took Ibrahim to one side. "Do you have an upstairs bathroom?" he asked, patting his stomach. "All this excitement seems to have done strange things to my digestion."

"Of course," said Ibrahim, pointing him to the stairs. "First on your left."

"Thank you." He hurried up and locked himself in. Then he took out his cell phone to call and brief his father on the blizzard of events and relay the gist of the inscription, too.

"What did I tell you?" said the elder Dragoumis.

"You've been right at every step," acknowledged his son.

"And it was the girl who broke it? Mitchell's daughter?"

"Yes. You were right about her, too."

"I want to meet her."

"I'll arrange for it once we're done," said Nicolas.

"No. Now. Tonight."

"Tonight. You're sure?"

"She worked out that there was a lower chamber in the Macedonian tomb," said Dragoumis. "She realized the inscription was a cipher, and broke it, too. She'll be the one to find what we're looking for; I feel it in my heart. She must be on our side when that happens. You understand?"

"Yes, Father. I'll take care of it." He took further instructions, then finished the call and rang Gabbar Mounim in Cairo.

"My dear Nicolas," enthused Mounim. "I trust you were satisfied with-"

"More than satisfied," said Nicolas. "Listen. I need something done right now."

"Of course. Whatever you wish."

"I believe our friend Yusuf at the SCA is in a meeting," said Nicolas. "When he comes out, he'll have a message on his desk to call Ibrahim Beyumi in Alexandria. Mr. Beyumi is going to ask him for an urgent meeting. I want our friend to invite a third party to that meeting and to look favorably upon what she asks. Her name is Elena Koloktronis." He spelled it out. "You may let our friend know that he'll be very generously rewarded, as you will be, too. You know I'm a man of my word."

A chuckle rolled down the phone line. "I do, indeed. Consider it done."

"Thank you." He made another few phone calls to get things under way, then flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and went back downstairs.

"Any better?" asked Ibrahim solicitously, meeting him at the bottom.

Nicolas smiled. "Much better, thank you."

"You'll never guess what's happened. Yusuf Abbas, my secretary general, just called from the SCA. He's invited me to Cairo for an immediate meeting."

"What's surprising about that?" frowned Nicolas. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, but he's invited Elena, too. And none of us can work out how he even knew she was in the country."

Nessim could see no immediate sign of Knox inside the Sarapeion-little sign of anyone, indeed, except for two Korean tourists taking pictures of each other in front of Pompey's Pillar, and a young family enjoying a modest picnic. He motioned for Ratib and Sami to spread out and comb the site. They went slowly, checking each of the various pits, cisterns, and chambers. But they reached the red-brick wall at the far end without a trace of him.

Badr was still on the line. "Are you quite sure he's here?" Nessim asked icily.

"You must have walked straight past him. I don't understand it."

Nessim looked over at Ratib and then at Sami. They shrugged and shook their heads. He pointed to the pillar, suggesting they meet at its base. He reached it first. A brown paper bag rustled in the light breeze. He gave it a wary nudge with his foot, carefully pulling it open. There was a cell phone inside. He picked it up and turned it around, frowning, wondering what it signified.

There was a crash of broken glass at the far side of the wall. It was only when his car alarm began to wail that Nessim realized that was where he had left the Freelander-with all Knox's belongings in the back. An old engine roared and raced away before any of them could react. Nessim closed his eyes and clutched his forehead. He hated Knox. He hated him. But he couldn't help but rather admire him, too.

Nicolas drew Elena to one side to explain how he had arranged her meeting with Yusuf Abbas, and what she should try to achieve in it. Yusuf was greedy but cautious. If Elena could provide him with an excuse to let her explore Siwa, and thus earn himself his fat commission, then he'd do so. But it would need to look legitimate. A low-level epigraphic survey, say-just her and the girl.

"The girl?" frowned Elena. "Can we trust her?"

"My father believes so. Well? Can you take care of Yusuf?"

"Leave him to me."

Nicolas walked over to Gaille, who was transferring photographs onto Ibrahim's laptop to show to Yusuf. When she was finished, he asked her for a word, then steered her out into Ibrahim's small garden. "My father wants to meet you," he told her.

"Your father?" Gaille looked a little alarmed. "I don't understand. I don't even know who he is."

"He's the founder and backer of the Macedonian Archaeological Foundation," explained Nicolas. "That makes him your boss. He was also the person who suggested Elena employ you."

"But… why?"

"He knew your father," said Nicolas. "He admired him greatly. And he's kept an eye on your career over the years. When Elena needed a replacement, he naturally thought of you."

"That was… very good of him."

"He's a very good man," nodded Nicolas seriously. "And he wants you to have dinner with him this evening."

Gaille frowned. "He's in Alexandria?"

"No. Thessalonike."

"But… I don't understand."

Nicolas smiled. "Have you ever flown on a private jet before?" he asked.

Knox raced through the back streets of Alexandria, his recaptured belongings piled high on the seat beside him. It had felt good putting one over on Nessim. A man can only run for so long before his pride begins to smart. He drove east toward Abu Qir, putting distance between himself and his pursuers; then he parked to see what he had.

His laptop battery was old and had only an hour's juice. He flicked through his photograph CDs, checking file names, but he couldn't find a trace of Akylos or Kelonymus. He scowled in frustration. Nessim had either left them behind or removed them from his car. How unlucky was that? It was a minute or two before another possible explanation occurred to him.