Will Adams - The Alexander Cipher

Fifteen minutes passed before headlights sprang through the window. Knox's heart accelerated. He glanced again at Gaille, who was looking as frightened as he felt. Footsteps grew loud; then Nessim opened the door, and Hassan al-Assyuti walked through, hands clasped behind his back. He looked bigger than Knox remembered. His eye and jaw were both puffy, and he grimaced as he moved, as though still feeling the beating he had taken.

"Let the girl go," said Knox at once. "She knows nothing about this."

Hassan smiled wolfishly, showing a flash of gold where previously there had only been white. "You're a hard man to find, Mr. Knox. My men have been scouring all Egypt."

"We had a deal," said Knox. "I said I'd come to see you. You said you'd get a shipment out for me. I'm here. She's the shipment. Keep your word. Get her out."

"You don't think you've breached the terms of that particular contract? You don't think three vehicles filled with armed and hostile men allows me to-"

"Please," said Knox. "I'm begging you. Do what you want with me, but let the girl go."

"What? So she can walk straight out of here and sell her story to the press?"

"She won't do that. Tell him, Gaille. Give him your word."

"Fuck him," said Gaille through chattering teeth. "I'm staying with you."

Hassan barked out a laugh of mixed amusement and admiration. "You prefer looks to intelligence in your women, I see."

"You won't get away with this."

"Get away with what?" shrugged Hassan. "All I've done so far is rescue you from a situation of extreme jeopardy. You should be thanking me. As for what I'm going to do next…"

"Yes?" asked Knox.

"You humiliated me in Sharm, Mr. Knox," said Hassan, the tendons taut in his neck. "People have been laughing at me. At me, Mr. Knox. At me. I'm sure you appreciate that I can't allow such things to go… unremedied." He came a step closer, leaning down so that the tip of his nose was almost touching Knox's, his breath sour in Knox's nostrils. "It's a simple matter of respect."

"Respect!" snorted Knox. "You were raping a girl."

Hassan's eyes narrowed. He stood up once more, his fists clenched. Knox braced himself for a punch, but Hassan restrained himself and even managed a tight smile. "I'd almost given up hope of finding you," he said. "But then, this afternoon, you called out of the blue. I thought it was a joke at first. I thought you were taunting me. You had to be aware, after all, of what I'd do to you. But then an extraordinary news story began to break. A man recovering in Siwa Hospital began babbling about discovering the tomb of Alexander the Great, and golden coffins and a conspiracy of Greeks and how a young man called Knox had come to his rescue. And suddenly your telephone call began to make some sense. What else could your shipment be but these renegade Greeks, this plundered treasure?"

"How happy you must have been," said Knox bitterly, "having me deliver it straight to your door! Don't you have enough gold?"

"A man can never have enough gold, Mr. Knox," retorted Hassan. "And yet, you're right, in a way. Money has never been a problem for me. There are other things, however, that I've found more difficult to acquire. Do you see where I'm going, Mr. Knox? "

"My guess would be to prison for life."

Hassan laughed. "You couldn't be more wrong. This isn't some crude heist; it's an official operation. Semiofficial, at least. Those men out there are paratroops-Egypt's finest, old comrades of Nessim's. After all, you don't really imagine I have thirty armed marksmen to call on at such short notice, do you? And why do you think your convoy wasn't challenged on your approach to Suez? And why do you think no one shot at your container, except when your driver tried to get away?"

"I don't understand," protested Gaille. "What's he talking about?"

"I'm talking about a way for you two to walk out of here alive," he told her. "I'm talking about a way for everybody to win."

"Go on," said Knox.

"The ambitions of youth aren't the same as the ambitions of maturity, Mr. Knox, as you've probably realized for yourself. When I was a young man, I craved only money, because money is like air-if you don't have it, nothing else matters. But once you have it…" he made a dismissive gesture.

"So what do you want?"

"Legitimacy. Respectability. A place in the hearts of my people. An opportunity to serve."

"An opportunity to serve!" snorted Knox. "I don't believe this! You're going into politics?"

Hassan allowed himself a smile. "Our nation is led by an aging generation," he said. "A generation out of touch with its people. Egypt is crying out for new leadership, for people with fresh ideas and energy, for people who understand the new ways. I intend to be one of those people. Yet politics in Egypt is not an easy world to penetrate, particularly for a man with my… background. Egypt is riddled with nepotism, as you know. Too many sons are already waiting in line, and I'm sure you realize that patience isn't my strongest point."

"So that's it," muttered Knox. "You're going to make yourself the hero of the hour. The savior of Egypt's heritage."

"And you're going to help me, Mr. Knox," nodded Hassan. "You're going to tell the world that the reason you contacted me earlier today was because when you realized that these great Egyptian treasures were in danger, you knew I was the person to go to, because I always put my country and my people ahead of anything else; and you've been proved right by events, because I've done exactly that."

"And if I don't?"

Hassan reached out to stroke Gaille's cheek. "It's already a bloodbath outside, Mr. Knox. Do you really believe that two more corpses would make any difference?"

"You're bluffing."

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Knox?"

Knox stared at him, trying to read behind his eyes, but the man was made of stone; he gave nothing away. He glanced instead at Gaille, who was bracing herself for the worst, yet prepared to suffer it on his account; and he knew then that he had no choice. "Fine," he said. "You have a deal."

"Good," said Hassan. He nodded at Nessim, still standing stolidly by the door. "You have my head of security to thank, you know. This was his idea. I was angry with you, Mr. Knox-you have no idea how angry. After your call came, I wanted you shot. But Nessim persuaded me this was the wiser course." He leaned in close once more, as if to confide a secret. "I'm a bad enemy to make, Mr. Knox. You'd do well to remember that."

"I will," Knox assured him. "Believe me."

Hassan looked back at him, amused by his defiance, and the two men locked gazes long enough for both to realize that it wasn't over between them just yet, that unfinished business remained. But it could wait. It would wait. They each had too much to lose.

Knox stood, helped Gaille to her feet, and put his arm around her. They walked together to the door, held open for them by Nessim. Knox nodded slightly at him as they passed, and Nessim nodded back-an acknowledgment of debts settled, perhaps even of mutual respect. Then he and Gaille passed through the door and into a whole new life.

So this is what fame feels like, thought Knox, roasting beneath the arc lights as he gazed out over the bank of microphones to the squatted rows of photographers and the TV crews and the press journalists perching forward on their chairs, taking notes with one hand while straining to be noticed with the other, eager to pose their questions, if only to show their bosses they were doing their jobs, because they must realize by now that they wouldn't get any answers worth a damn.

"I'm sorry," declared Yusuf Abbas for the umpteenth time. "It's far too early to know exactly what we've found. Archaeology doesn't work that way. We need time to secure and examine the sites. We need time to retrieve and study what we find. In a year or two, perhaps, we'll know a little more. Now, just three more questions, I think. Who wants to-"