Bast, however, was not laughing. “Well, boys, enough of the jokes, as I am seriously worried for Kate.”
“Well, I am not,” interrupted Ramses, “as we have dispersed Merenptah’s army throughout the Theban Hills. It will be months before they have the courage to regroup. As Kate leaves in exactly seven days, I cannot see a problem.”
“How long have you been here?” asked Bast as she stared directly at Ramses.
“Around three thousand three hundred years, give or take.”
“Very funny, but you know what I mean.”
“Just a few hours, Bast.”
“How long is ‘just a few hours’, Ramses?”
“Well, let’s see, the sun was up there when we started,” said Ramses, pointing straight up into the area of the midday sun, “and now it is over … over … it’s gone!”
“Yes, long gone, Ramses. This is electric light, not sun light, so you have been drinking all day.”
“No,” Ramses said with a sense of injustice, “you know that we never open more than one bottle,” before adding very quietly, “at a time.”
“Seriously, Bast,” said Gadeem, “the half empty bottle in front of you is only our second of the day.” And with that he poured her a small glass of Ramses’ red wine.
Raising it to her lips, she purred as she sipped.
“Gadeem is ruining my rakish image, an image I have been cultivating for the last couple of thousand years,” said Ramses in the affected voice of a young boy who was about to go off and cry.
“Keep cultivating,” said Bast with a beam as wide as that of the cat which had just had the cream. “To me it looks as though your rake is broken and your flowerbed is full of weeds.”
Ramses stuck his bottom lip out. He was giving Bast his best little-boy-lost look which he could not hold for long, before they all laughed out loud.
It was Bast who abruptly stopped laughing. She brought them back down to earth with a bump, when she blurted out, probably a little louder than she intended to, “Someone is trying to kill Kate … and they nearly succeeded today.”
“How, where, why, is she okay?”
“The how, Ramses, was by a boulder of granite; the where was Luxor Temple; the why, now let me think, could it possibly be because someone is really angry with how we humiliated him yesterday; and yes, she is shaken, but okay.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell us?”
“What do you think I am doing now, joining you boys for a drink?”
“Well, you do have a glass of red wine in front of you!”
“Sometimes, Ramses, just sometimes, I could …” and whilst Bast searched for the right words, possibly the wrong words, Gadeem spoke up.
“Sorry, Bast,” he said whilst placing a hand on her knee in gentle reassurance, “we were celebrating a great victory, though it appears that we have been rather premature. Sorry.”
“Save your sorries for Kate,” replied Bast. It could have been said very harshly, though it came out with extreme sadness in her voice. This affected Ramses and Gadeem more than any harsh rebuke ever could. There was a short period of silence.
“We have actually had a really nice day. I personally find it difficult to believe that Merenptah would try anything whilst he is so weakened, don’t you, Ramses?”
“Yes, yes I do, and what I find even more difficult to understand is why I did not drown him at birth. He is my thirteenth son. That in itself should have been a warning to me. Even with his limited capabilities he must be aware that without his army we could crush him like a grape, though if we did, his wine would be poison.” And with that said, Ramses tipped the remainder of the red wine into his glass, as his way of emphasising the point.
“I gathered all the information I could, before I came here. One thing I know for sure is that Merenptah was not directly behind this attempt on Kate’s life. We now have ears in his camp, so we would have been warned. None of my sources have been able to shed any light on who organised this attack.” Bast paused, just briefly, before continuing. “I think we could have an educated guess as to who is behind this. My fear is that to be this confident he must be more powerful than we ever thought he could be.”
Ramses diverted his eyes from his now empty wine glass. Looking directly at Bast he said, “The magician,” at the same time as Gadeem said, “The warlock!”
Chapter 3
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Where Do We Go From Here?
A full pitcher of tamar-hindi sat in front of Kate and Alex, who had settled into their usual seats in the bar of the Winter Palace. Neither had attempted to fill their glass, due to a multitude of thoughts spinning in their heads.
The hotel bar, with its faded grandeur, had become a second home to them since arriving in Luxor. It could not have been made to look less Egyptian, with its dark mock Tudor half panelling, above which small prints of English hunting scenes hung on plain white, though slightly yellowing, walls. Three prepared drinks and waited at tables, whilst his son, Cairo, washed glasses, hidden well out of sight behind the overly high bar. Cairo had immediately become Kate and Alex’s best friend in Luxor. Here they felt safe, comfortable and amongst friends. More so, since Kate had discovered that her ancient family, as well as the people who had direct links to her ancient family, had not only purchased, but also secretly ran this wonderful old hotel.
They both sat in a state of delayed shock, a state that manifested itself in inappropriate giggles every now and again, as thoughts and images continued to spin through their minds. Kate looked over to the bar, only to see Three and Cairo peering over. It was obvious from Cairo’s confused expression that he knew nothing of the events of today, beyond them having gone out with Aggie. From Three’s extremely concerned expression it was obvious that he knew every detail.
Cairo had been looking forward to joining Kate and Alex on their visit to Luxor Temple. That was before Kate had mentioned at breakfast that Aggie was going to go with them. That had been the last that either of them had seen of him, until now.
Kate was unsure as to what to do or say, as the events of the day now felt quite surreal. She wanted to ask Alex if what she had in her mind had actually taken place, just as long his answer was that it had not, that it had all been nothing more than a bad dream. In the certainty that this would not be his answer, she kept quiet. Yes, she had been attacked by an ancient army, stabbed by an ancient soldier, but it had up to now been an adventure, just an adventure, but this block being dropped was certain death. A death that, despite the assistance of an unlimited number of ancient scarabs, would have been so very final. The block would have done so much more damage than just stop her heart. This was not a comfortable feeling, not comfortable at all. Kate started giggling again when she pictured the bloodied finger wiggling as it protruded through the top of the boy’s nose. As she put this picture together with one of his father collapsing, it turned into howls of laughter, though laughter with a definite maniacal edge.
Alex turned in his seat, moved closer and hugged her. She now sobbed uncontrollably, though this was interspersed with short sputtered laughter.
Cairo looked at his father. He said in Arabic, “Funny race, these English.”
Three looked back at his son, paused, then replied, also in Arabic, “It does make you wonder how they took over the world. You should be so proud to be Egyptian, as our ancestors built the pyramids, they built the building blocks of civilisation, and what have the English done? I shall tell you, my son, they stole our treasures to put in museums. Our treasures!
“They celebrate their failures. Just look at Walter Raleigh. Famous for placing his cape over a puddle and sailing around the world to bring back a leaf. Yes, you heard correct, a leaf, not gold, a leaf! One that people roll up and set light to. One that governments have been trying to ban ever since. They, the English, have been at war with every country in the world. Leaving England to make America, they took the land unfairly before invading the world with cola and hamburgers. They say that they ar
e the guardians of peace. I think that they are the guardians of obesity.”
Cairo had never heard his father talk like this before. It quite upset him. His father was so angry and unreasonable that he had treated the English and American people as one and the same. Until now Three had always impressed on him just how good the English were. So much so that Cairo had learned English before learning Arabic. He did not know what to ask or say, though he need not have worried, as his father was about to answer his questions without any needing to be asked.
“If you think that I am being hard on the English, Cairo, then consider the French who came here to steal all our treasures, the Italians …” Three was on a roll, but a roll that only lasted until he and Cairo rolled right off the box. This was a box which had only been made for one person to stand on, but had allowed them both to look over the bar, at least for a while. The subsequent crash and sound of breaking glasses brought a more natural smile to the faces of Kate and Alex. In fact, it turned into a few moments of real laughter. The dozen or so tourists in the bar, having seen what happened, also joined in. Laughter filled the area.
Wondering what was going on, the duty manager appeared. He was far from pleased. Obviously aware of what had taken place at the temple earlier, rather than admonish Three and Cairo, he told them to look after Kate and Alex. Other staff could clear the broken glass.
“What is wrong, Madam Kate?” asked Three.
Cairo in his enthusiasm almost spoke over him, “Yes what wrong? We had great victory yesterday.”
Somehow this had a focusing effect on Kate and Alex, causing them to both try and explain today’s events at the same time. Alex gestured for Kate to proceed, and she did. Quietly and without emotion she gave them a synopsis of the events of earlier. Anybody listening would have thought she was reviewing a film or perhaps the latest episode of her favourite television series.
Cairo and Three turned to each other, they mouthed the same word. Kate and Alex failed to work out what the word was, before realising that it had been mouthed in Arabic.
“Who is trying to kill us?” Kate demanded without warning, in a voice so strong it almost sent Three reeling backwards. Not one of Kate’s best ideas when the bar was so full of tourists.
Three turned to step away. As he did, he made a point of saying, loud enough for everyone in the now silent bar to hear, that he hoped they would not watch any more horror movies late at night. They were not good for the overactive minds of teenagers. He motioned to Cairo to follow him as the chatter of the guests resumed.
“Stop right there,” said Kate as she rose. The next few seconds were a blur. She was shouting; Alex failed to calm her; Three was evading everything. Cairo was worried because he could not work out what was going on. Had everybody gone crazy?
As the shouts of an extremely drunk as well as extremely annoyed Aggie reached them from reception, Kate went quiet. Relief appeared on the faces of Three and Cairo. This was something that at any other time would have sent them scuttling away to their hiding places. It was apparent that she had gone to her room, a suite which she and Kate shared, and not finding Kate there was the cause of her rant.
Babs had also gone to her own room, though having not found Quentin in there, or Alex in the adjoining room, she had at least had the good grace to collapse onto her bed before passing out.
Aggie, on the other hand, was on a mission, and that mission was to skin Kate alive. It was not possible to make out all that she was ranting about from the bar, as though it was plenty loud enough, it was heavily distorted. An echo was also added as the sound travelled down the corridor. Most, however, needed no translation.
Mohammed on reception was doing his very best to keep Aggie away from the bar area, though unfortunately Kate poked her head out into the corridor at just the wrong time.
Aggie boomed, “There she is, there’s that useless waste of space.” Two of the hotel staff tried valiantly to block her way. Aggie in her drunken rage was having none of it. “The only piece of real gossip since I arrived, and you couldn’t give it to me. You had to make me get it from that skinny bleached blonde, and all I know about her is that she gets nothing right. Girl, you owed me that gossip.” She barged the staff out of the way. Trying to take a decent stride in her narrow cut Georgian style dress caused her to stumble. This was a stumble, that, had it not been for the copious amounts of alcohol she had partaken of, she would have easily recovered from. Down she went. There was absolutely nothing ladylike or dainty about how she fell. Pushing herself up onto her knees, Aggie’s face went red, a boiling point red.
“She’s going to have to shout at me soon,” thought Kate, “or her head will explode.” With that thought firmly in her mind she started to giggle. Kate could not believe Aggie’s face could become any redder, though rather amazingly it did.
Attempting to get up, Aggie put her hand out for balance. It met with a tall ornate wooden plinth, which in any European hotel would have been securely screwed to the wall, but not here in Egypt. Aggie resumed screaming at Kate. By this time, Alex, Cairo and Three, along with several other hotel guests, were all staring at Aggie not only from the bar, but from the various restaurants further down the corridor.
As Aggie brought herself up to her full height, the plinth beside her continued to wobble, so without taking her eyes off Kate, she smacked her hand onto it, pushing it back to the wall, which for her was the wrong thing to do. However, for everyone watching, this was exactly the right thing for her to do. The kid who was to upload the video he was taking to YouTube, in just a short while, could not believe his luck. The very large and obviously very heavy oriental pot which sat on top, filled with dry compacted soil and mother-in-law’s tongue, failed to follow the plinth back to the wall. It remained for a moment, a fleeting comic moment, balanced on the very edge. Everybody could see the potential consequences. Nobody said a word.
The weight of the unbalanced pot moved the plinth back towards Aggie. Quite automatically she pushed it, yet again, back to the wall. Actually, she rather slammed it back to the wall as the words, “It is the end for you, my girl,” sprang from her lips. The pot fell as in slow motion, though not only did it fall, it turned completely upside-down. The pointed ends of the mother-in-law’s tongue hit her first, though before she could react, the whole oriental bowl caught her fairly and squarely. She crumpled to the ground slightly quicker than the bowl, so that once she was down, it had the chance to hit her again, before rolling to the feet of Kate, unbroken and undamaged, which was more than could be said for Aggie. She was definitely damaged, though she may well be unbroken.
It reminded Kate and Alex of Luxor Temple earlier, though this time the pot had taken the place of the large granite block. That had also come to rest by their feet. Breaking out into laughter, normal laughter, it was the release they both needed.
The young kid with the camera was already scurrying along the corridor. Making his way around the fallen Aggie, he was on his way to one of the hotel computers where he would upload his video. This, unbeknown to them all at this time, was going to go viral within hours. It would be shown on every news program around the world. The BBC would add it as their comic clip at the end of the main news, so that anyone who knew Aggie in the UK would be aware of her drunken rampage. It would also be shown on BBC World to entertain anyone who knew her and were watching whilst on holiday. She was going to get her fifteen minutes of fame for all the wrong reasons, though with Aggie, how she would achieve fame for the right reasons, was quite frankly beyond anybody’s thinking.
As the hotel staff lifted Aggie to take her to her room, Kate quickly riffled through her bag, grabbing any cash that she could get her hands on. She then made it clear that she did not want her to have a doctor this time. Aggie just needed to sleep it off, which everyone was happy with, as doctors usually meant a police report, and nobody wanted that, especially not for the second time in a week with the same guest.
Kate and Alex sat back down. After commis
erations from many guests that Kate had to live with someone like that, the tamar-hindi was poured. Cairo joined them at their table behind the door, where they were out of the way. This was not because teenagers should not be in the bar, but rather that Cairo should not be seen to be sitting with the guests. Kate and Alex took turns in explaining, in minute detail, all that had happened today at Luxor Temple.
The mental image of the wagging, bloodied finger was too much for Cairo. He laughed so much that he had to make a quick visit to the toilet.
“Exactly the same thing happened when I told him how my mother died,” said Kate to Alex with a mischievous smile. They both laughed and were still laughing as Cairo returned.
Seeing his embarrassment, Alex said that they were wondering if the hospital would have cut the lad’s fingernails.
Kate laughed out loud as she snorted, “Yes,” followed by yet more laughter, before she could say, “Oh yes, they did.”
As Alex and Cairo turned to look towards the entrance they saw the lad standing there with his parents. His arm was in plaster, his nose bandaged all the way around his head. There were what looked to be two short straws protruding from where his nostrils should have been, obviously to allow him to breathe. Kate, Alex and Cairo all battled hard not to laugh. It was a losing battle.
The sniggers stopped as they strained to hear what the hotel manager was saying to the family. It proved to be less than interesting. He was very sorry, but it was too late for them to eat in the hotel restaurants. They could, if they wished, eat in the bar. Snacks were served all night, and some of the snacks were in fact large enough to be considered a meal. This was a fact that Kate and Cairo could attest to, having tried the complete bar menu on the evening they first met.
Death in Luxor Page 3
