Suddenly a movement caught his eye and he thrashed in fear, totally panicked at the realisation he was not alone in this place where nothing else should be. His heart raced frantically and the bubbles streamed upwards as he gasped for breath.
Finally, he forced himself to slow his breathing and considered the implications. This was stupid, there was no such thing as ghosts. As his pulse slowed he realised he had acted irrationally and there had to be an explanation. He shone the torch back down the well. For a few moments there was nothing, but suddenly there it was again. Brandon forced himself to stay calm and searched the bottom with the torch beam. Finally he saw what he had been seeking and if he didn’t have an aqualung in, would have laughed out loud. It was a large silver fish.
Brandon continued his cleaning and within a few minutes realised that the surface under his brush felt different. He renewed his efforts and finally uncovered a smooth plastered square where a stone had once been, but what excited him even more was the picture of a devil’s face carved into the surface.
Brandon replaced the brush in the bag and retrieved a heavy hammer and chisel. Though the water slowed down the movement of his arm, he attacked the plaster with short blows and the plastered stone fell away easily, revealing a hidden chamber in the wall. Within a minute he had removed the false cover and retrieved a ceramic jug, its neck heavily sealed with wax.
Holding the jug tightly, he swam up to the surface a few metres above and clambered out onto the steps. He removed the breathing apparatus and threw it into the water to sink to the bottom along with the tools from the bag. Finally he was left with just the jug and the torch and he allowed himself a few moments to examine his prize.
The jug was small, with a bulbous base and narrow neck. He couldn’t see if it was patterned as it was completely covered with a thick coating of red wax, ensuring the contents were protected from the water. Brandon contemplated removing the plug but realised he might not have the time, so instead called out to Rashid.
‘Rashid, are you there?’ he asked.
‘I am here,’ answered Rashid. ‘Have you found anything?’
‘Yes, I’ve got it,’ said Brandon. ‘I’ll climb up the thick rope but you have to help me, I’m knackered.’
‘Tie the other rope around you,’ said Rashid, ‘and I will take the strain.’
Brandon did as he was told and, taking hold of the thicker rope, leaned backwards to climb the shaft wall. Rashid pulled on the smaller rope around his waist and within minutes, Brandon stood on the main ledge at the top of the shaft, panting for breath as he faced Rashid.
‘What did you find?’ asked Rashid excitedly as Brandon untied the rope.
‘This,’ said Brandon and retrieved the pot from the now empty tool bag. He handed the pot over and Rashid examined it closely.
‘Fantastic,’ he said. ‘Bora obviously made sure it was waterproof. Whatever is in there should be in perfect condition.’
‘Right,’ said Brandon, ‘can we get out of here? I am freezing.’
‘Of course,’ said Rashid, and looked down the shaft.
‘Brandon,’ he said, ‘I thought we agreed you would dump the equipment.’
‘I did,’ said Brandon. ‘Why?’
‘Look at that,’ said Rashid and stepped back from the edge. Brandon stepped forward and shone the torch into the darkness. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘I don’t see anything.’
‘Then have a closer look,’ snarled Rashid, and pushed Brandon headlong into the shaft.
Chapter 11
Kom-Ombo
‘And how long have you been in Egypt, Miss Devilish?’ asked Edjo.
‘Almost two weeks,’ said India. ‘We are sailing up to Aswan and flying home from there.’
‘Have you enjoyed our country?’
‘It is beautiful,’ said India, ‘though two weeks is nowhere near enough to really explore.’ She had engaged the Egyptian policeman in conversation for almost twenty minutes, shamelessly flirting with the young man as she resisted the temptation to check her watch.
‘Then one day you should return,’ said Edjo, ‘and perhaps I could show you around. There are sights I could show you not known to tourists that would make your eyes open with wonder.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ said India, reaching for the ringing phone in her bag. ‘Excuse me, do you mind if I take this?’
‘Of course not,’ said Edjo. ‘I will check to see if they have found your purse.’
‘Hello,’ she said quietly.
‘India, hello,’ said the voice on the other end. ‘It’s Adriano here, of the Greek police.’
‘Hello, Adriano,’ she said, ‘good to hear from you.’
‘You too,’ he said. ‘I was trying to get hold of Brandon but he’s not answering his phone. Is he with you?’
‘No, sorry, he’s busy at the moment, can I help?’
‘There’s no problem,’ said Adriano, ‘it’s just that the results are back from the lab and I thought you should know.’
‘Results?’
‘Yes, I sent off the broken piece of pottery from Gatilusi’s bedroom, the part with the red flowers. Apparently there was enough saliva on the pot to identify the compound, but that’s where it gets very strange.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, it is one of a very complicated group of poisons called glycosides, but the strangest thing is this particular group is extracted solely from tulip bulbs.’
‘Tulip bulbs?’
‘Yes, I know. It’s not something I have come across before so I made some enquiries, and apparently it’s not as strange in this region as you may think. Two hundred years ago, tulips were the favoured crop of the Ottomans in Turkey. Long before they were claimed by the Netherlands as their national flower, they were used for all sorts of purposes in the royal palaces: decoration, food, medicine, and most worrying of all, in the production of a virulent poison for the sultan’s assassins.’
‘You have got to be kidding me,’ said India.
‘Indeed not,’ said Adriano. ‘For centuries the rulers of the Ottoman Empire had their own dedicated group of assassins, trained in every sort of murder you can imagine. Their loyalty was unquestionable and they all came from the same tribe. In particular they specialised in the administration of poison.’
‘But why would someone go to all that trouble to formulate an ancient poison?’ she asked. ‘Surely in this day and age there are other easier poisons to get hold of?’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Adriano. ‘Unless of course we are dealing with someone who has a reason to use the traditional methods.’
‘But why?’
‘I asked myself the same question, so I made some enquiries with a police contact in Istanbul. Apparently there are several instances of the same poison being used in recent years and in particular, they suspect that at least two politicians died as a result of glycoside poisoning. Though nothing has been proved, the police suspect a wanted murderer called Abbas Bin Syndic.’
‘And who is he?’
‘A member of a small tribe called the Saljik. There are not many left these days but they can trace their ancestry back to the height of the Ottoman Empire. Apparently, it was the Saljik who used to supply the assassins to the sultans.’
‘And you think it was this Abbas Bin Syndic who poisoned Gatilusi?’
‘I don’t have any evidence of that,’ said Adriano, ‘but the strange thing is my contact told me he flew in to Samothrace a couple of days ago. I checked out the hotels but there is no sign of him. Apparently he flew to Athens and caught a flight to Aswan the following day using one of his aliases.’
India’s face dropped.
‘Adriano,’ she said slowly, ‘do you know what he looks like?’
‘No, I do, however, know his alias.’
‘Tell me,’ said India.
‘He is going by the name of Rashid Bin Kassab,’ he said, ‘and apparently he has murdered over a dozen men.’
Indi
a lowered the phone slowly to her side and stared toward the compound where Brandon was deep inside the Nileometer.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispered to herself.
* * *
Brandon surfaced, coughing and spluttering. Reaching out, he grabbed the edge of the ledge where he had sat only minutes earlier and looked up toward the top of the shaft.
‘Rashid,’ he hissed, ‘what’s going on? Rashid!’
When there was no answer Brandon reached across the surface of the water and grabbed the floating torch before hauling himself up onto the ledge. Once again he called up, careful not to shout too loud in case he alerted any guards.
Eventually, the shape of a head was silhouetted against the navy sky. ‘You are still alive?’ said Rashid. ‘How unfortunate.’
‘What do you mean?’ snapped Brandon. ‘Why did you push me in? I could have landed on the ledge.’
‘That was my intention,’ said Rashid. ‘Still, it matters not.’
‘But why, I don’t understand?’
‘I have no more use of you,’ said Rashid, ‘I have what I came for.’
‘But I thought you were helping us.’
‘No, you were helping me, Mr Walker,’ he said. ‘Helping me to return the treasure to its rightful owners.’
Brandon thought furiously, knowing he was cornered.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I don’t know or care what or who you represent, but just get me out of here and India and I will go our own way. You can keep the jug, just help me get out.’
‘Mr Walker, you underestimate me,’ said Rashid. ‘I have no intention of helping you out. In fact, it is a pity your body isn’t now broken in two across that ledge you stand on. Still, it doesn’t matter. By dawn you will be found and probably spend a long time in an Egyptian jail and trust me, when you do, you will wish you had died in this well.’
‘And what’s to stop me calling out right now?’
‘If you do, I will kill India in the next few minutes. I have enough contacts to see me safely out of Egypt, Mr Walker, so I will be fine, but your friend’s blood will be soaked up by the sand long before you get out of this well.’
‘OK, what about when I am questioned by the police?’ asked Brandon. ‘What’s to stop me telling them everything?’
‘Tell them what, Mr Walker? That you are an artefact thief, who was tricked by an Arab whose real name you have no idea of. Good luck with that.’
Brandon knew he was right, there was no way he would be believed and certainly no way he would risk India’s life. All he could hope for now was that he could escape from the well. He looked at the rope, wondering if he had enough strength to pull himself up.
‘So, Mr Walker,’ continued Rashid, ‘you make yourself comfortable down there and in the meantime, your friend and I will be miles away. Oh, and don’t try to trace the felucca either, by the time the sun rises it will be at the bottom of the Nile. Goodbye, Mr Walker, and good luck with the Egyptians.’
He disappeared out of sight and Brandon stood up to walk over to the rope. Suddenly the silhouette appeared again and Brandon froze in the darkness.
‘Oh, one more thing, Mr Walker,’ said Rashid. ‘Just in case you were thinking of escaping, perhaps this will make you realise the futility of the situation.’
A few seconds later the two ropes came snaking down to land on the stone ledge in front of him.
‘Goodbye, Mr Walker,’ said Rashid and he disappeared again, this time for good. Brandon switched on the torch and shone it at the pile of heavy rope alongside him in despair. That was the only hope he had had of escaping the well.
He sat back against the cold wall, eyes shut, contemplating his situation. There was no way he could climb the shaft without a rope and the only one he had lay at his feet. He certainly couldn’t throw it up to snag on the barrier above as it was far too heavy. Suddenly a splash in the water made him jump and his hastily aimed torch beam revealed the silver flash of a fish once again, probably the same one as before.
Brandon stood slowly, a thought starting to form in his mind. How on earth could there be a fish in the well, it would never get enough food, unless… unless there was a connection from the well to the Nile.
Brandon recalled India’s description of how the Nileometer worked. Originally there would have been a tunnel linking the river to the well, but India had said it had probably silted up years ago. Brandon started thinking furiously. What if it wasn’t? What if the tunnel still existed somewhere down there in the depths of the well?
He made some rapid calculations. Even if it was, he had no idea how deep the water was, and even if he could swim down, he could never hold his breath between the well and the river, which had to be several hundred yards away.
‘Unless, of course,’ he thought, shining the torch deep into the water, ‘I had an aqualung.’
He had thrown the diving equipment into the water earlier and it had sunk below the surface. If he could only reach it, he might be able to find the tunnel and try and find a way out.
Looking around once more he realised this was his only chance and he had no other option. He started to twist the heavy rope into coils and tied it together with one loose end. When it was tight, he took the remaining end and wrapped it around his hand. He breathed deep and fast for a few moments, trying to oxygenate his blood as much as possible. Finally he slowed his breathing, taking deeper and deeper breaths before holding the last one and kicking the rope into the water. The coiled weight sank immediately and pulled Brandon rapidly into the dark depths of the well.
* * *
India’s mind raced with the implications of Adriano’s call. Suddenly she jumped as the electricity came back on and the temple flooded with artificial light. Edjo re-entered the room and had an apologetic look on his face.
‘I am sorry, Miss Devilish,’ he said, ‘there is no sign of your purse. Somebody must have picked it up in the darkness. If you come with me, I will escort you to a hotel and in the morning we will contact your embassy to arrange a replacement passport.’
‘Miss Devilish,’ cried a voice, ‘thank the Gods.’
India and Edjo turned to face the man who had entered the room.
‘And who are you?’ asked Edjo.
‘I am Rashid,’ came the answer, ‘and I am Miss Devilish’s personal guide.’ He turned to India. ‘Thank heaven you are safe,’ he said. ‘I lost you in the darkness so assumed you had returned to the boat. When you weren’t there, I naturally returned as soon as I could.’
‘Miss Devilish has lost her purse,’ said Edjo warily. ‘I am afraid I will have to make a report.’
‘No need,’ said Rashid, ‘I have it here.’ He held up India’s purse as proof. ‘I found it on the steps so picked it up.’
Edjo turned to India.
‘Is this all in order, Miss Devilish?’ he asked.
India looked between the two men, her mind whirring. This was going exactly as they had planned, the only difference was she now knew the true identity of the Arab before her. For a moment she considered blurting out the truth to this helpful policeman, but she had agreed to meet Rashid and Brandon back at the felucca. If she said anything, who knew what would happen to Brandon. No, at the moment Rashid, or Abbas, whatever his name was, didn’t know that she knew the truth, and that was a powerful advantage. She decided to play along as discussed and tell Brandon her news as soon as possible.
‘Yes, of course,’ said India. ‘Rashid, thank you so much for coming back.’ She turned to the policeman for the last time.
‘Edjo, you have been so kind,’ she said, giving him a hug. ‘Thank you ever so much, and I am sorry if I put you or your men out.’
‘No problem, Miss Devilish,’ he said. ‘I hope you continue to enjoy your stay in our beautiful country.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ said India and left the room with Rashid.
The trip out of the temple was quiet, apart from the sound of their breathing. As soon as they were at the bottom of the s
teps, India broke the silence.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘Did you find anything?’
‘We did,’ said Rashid, ‘but I have not opened it yet so can’t tell you exactly what it is.’
‘And is Brandon OK?’ she asked.
‘He is fine,’ said Rashid, ‘and currently getting warm at Hakim’s.’
They hurried down the road and along the wooden quay. She could see the engine on the back of the felucca was already running and Hakim held out his hand to help her aboard.
‘Quick, get us out of here,’ snapped Rashid and followed India into the cabin, shutting the door behind him.
She turned around and looked at him in confusion.
‘Where is he?’ she asked. ‘You said he was in here getting warm.’
‘India, I am afraid there was an accident.’
‘Accident, what do you mean?’
‘Sit down, India,’ said Rashid. ‘There is something you should know.’
‘I don’t need to sit down,’ she said. ‘Where is he?’
‘He is still in the well,’ said Rashid. ‘Everything was going according to plan but the rope snapped as he was climbing up the shaft. I tried to find a way to get him out but it was too late and the lights came back on.’
‘You mean he is still there?’ she gasped.
‘Yes, and unfortunately will probably be found in the morning by the authorities.’
‘Then we have to go back,’ said India.
‘We can’t, the area is patrolled once more. No, the best thing we can do now is get as far away from here as possible so we are not implicated. I have contacts in the local police and they will ensure he gets out within a few days. Brandon knows all about this,’ he lied, ‘and agreed it was the best thing for all of us.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
‘Absolutely,’ said Rashid. ‘We have agreed to meet in Cairo in a few days and carry on the search from there.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I suppose if Brandon is OK with it.’
The Treasures of Suleiman Page 12
