Will Adams - The Exodus Quest

He fished it from his pocket, along with his boarding pass. They took their time inspecting it, flipping slowly through the pages. Griffin looked around again. The lounge was empty, the gate closing. His students were aboard. A warm wave of relief, the chill of loneliness. Apple pie and ice cream.

'You come often to Egypt.' A statement, not a question.

'I'm an archaeologist.'

The two security men glanced at each other. 'You are aware of the penalties for smuggling antiquities out of the country?'

Griffin frowned. He was guilty of a lot of things, but not that. 'What are you talking about?'

'Come on,' coaxed the man. 'We know everything.'

'Everything?' And, just like that, he got the feeling that this was nothing, that they were fishing.

'We can help you,' said one of them. 'It's just a matter of the right paperwork. We'll even take care of it for you. Pay us the amount owing, you won't have to do another thing.'

The relief was so intense that Griffin couldn't help but sag in his chair. A shakedown, that was all. After all that anxiety, just a fucking shakedown. 'And how much would that be, exactly?'

'One hundred dollars,' said one.

'One hundred dollars each,' said the other.

'And then I can catch my flight?'

'Of course.'

He didn't even begrudge them their money. It felt strangely as though they were messengers from some greater power, as if this was some kind of penance. And that meant he still had time to turn things around. Get his students home, make sure Claire was okay, then do something with his life of which he could be proud. He counted out ten twenty-dollar bills, added an extra one. 'For your friend in check-in,' he said. Then he walked out through the door and across to the departure gate, a great weight off his shoulders, a little strut back in his stride.

Naguib found Captain Khaled Osman sitting out the storm in his quarters, listening to his men gossiping as they shared a shisha of honey-flavoured tobacco.

'You again,' scowled Khaled. 'What is it this time?'

Naguib closed the door behind him to shut out the storm, brushed down his sleeves, flicking droplets of water onto the floor. 'A vicious night,' he remarked.

'What do you want?' said Khaled, pushing himself to his feet.

'I tried to phone,' said Naguib, gesturing vaguely out of the window. 'I couldn't get a signal. You know how mobiles can be.'

Khaled's jaw stiffened. He put his arms on his hips. 'What do you want?'

'Nothing. Nothing particular, at least. I just wanted to give you guys a heads-up, that's all. We had a report earlier.'

'A report?'

Naguib raised an eyebrow, apparently as amused by what he was about to tell them as no doubt they would be to hear it. 'One of the locals has been hearing voices.'

'Voices?'

'Men's voices,' nodded Naguib. 'Women's voices. Foreigners' voices.'

'Where?'

'I couldn't make sense of it exactly. I don't know this place as well as you. And he wasn't the most coherent of witnesses. But somewhere in Amarna.'

'What do you expect us to do about it?'

'Nothing,' said Naguib. 'It's just, with everything that's been going on, I'm going to have to look into it.'

Khaled stared incredulously at him. 'You want to go out in this?'

Naguib laughed heartily. 'You think I'm crazy? No, no, no. But if it's okay with you guys, I'll bring him back here first thing tomorrow; he can show me the place. You're welcome to come along with us, if you like. It's a long-shot, I know, but with these hostages and everything…'

'Quite,' nodded Khaled stiffly. 'In the morning. No problem.'

'Thanks,' said Naguib. 'Till tomorrow, then.'

Captain Khaled Osman clenched his fists as he stood at the window watching Naguib drive away. When his tail-lights had vanished into the storm, he turned to Faisal and Abdullah. 'Voices,' he said icily. 'Someone has been hearing voices. Men's voices. Women's voices. Foreigners' voices. Explain this to me, please.'

'It must be some mistake, sir,' whined Abdullah, backing away. 'A coincidence. Tourists. Journalists.'

'You're telling me you've allowed tourists and journalists into the site?'

Abdullah dropped his gaze. 'No, sir. But maybe they sneaked in while…' He trailed off, aware his boss wasn't buying it.

Khaled folded his arms, glaring back and forth between him and Faisal. 'You didn't do as I asked, did you?'

'We did, sir,' said Abdullah. 'I swear we did.'

'You killed them?'

Abdullah's complexion paled a notch. 'Kill them, sir?' he swallowed. 'You never told us to kill them.'

'What?'

'You told us to silence them, sir,' volunteered Faisal. 'That's exactly what we did.'

Khaled's face was stone. 'Silence them? And how precisely did you do that?'

'We spaced those planks out over the shaft,' nodded Faisal. 'We covered them with sheets and blankets. No one could possibly have heard them.'

'And yet someone has,' pointed out Khaled. 'And tomorrow morning the police are going out looking for them. They're going to hear their voices again.' He thrust his face into Faisal's. 'We're all going to hang because you disobeyed my direct order. How does that feel? Does that make you feel proud?'

'They won't come back till morning,' pointed out Nasser.

'Yes,' agreed Khaled. It was the first sensible thing anyone had said. He checked his watch. They still had time. 'Get pickaxes and rope,' he ordered. 'And anything else we need to open the place up and close it again.' He touched his Walther instinctively. Much though he cherished it, it wasn't the best tool for the job in hand. He opened up his locker, clipped two of his army souvenir grenades to his belt. 'Come on then,' he scowled, opening the door into the maelstrom. 'We've work to do.'

They ran through the deluge, clambered into the cab, then set off for the Royal Wadi, unaware of the passenger hitching a ride on their roof.

The water had now reached Lily's chin. She had to tilt back her head to breathe. Her left arm was aching from holding up Gaille, still breathing faintly but not yet conscious. She transferred her to her right. She'd climbed as high as she could go on the mound, but it was being eaten away bit by bit beneath her feet. She gave a sob of fear and loneliness.

The time was fast coming when she'd have to choose. She could perhaps ride the rising tide, supporting herself on the few meagre holds in the limestone wall, but no way could she do so while still holding Gaille. She was already too close to exhaustion. And the longer she held on, the more of her own precious reserves of strength she'd burn up. Letting her go was the only sensible strategy. No one would see. No one would ever know. And even if they did, they'd agree she'd had no choice.

Right, she told herself. On the count of ten.

She took a deep breath, counted the numbers out loud. But she trailed to a halt at seven, aware she couldn't do it. She just couldn't.

Not yet, at least.

Not yet.

Naguib watched Khaled and his men drive off towards the Royal Wadi in their truck, exhilarated that the first part of Knox's plan had gone so sweetly. He got out his mobile, called his boss.

'You again!' sighed Gamal. 'What this time?'

'Nothing,' said Naguib. 'At least, I've been listening in on all the chatter. You aren't looking for some fugitive Westerner, are you?'

'Of course we bloody are. You know we are.'

'Only I think he might be here. A tall Westerner, maybe thirty, thirty-five. His face pretty badly banged up.'

'That's him! That's him! Where is he?'

'He was in a truck with some other people.'

'Who?'

'I didn't see. I just saw them drive off towards the Royal Wadi.'