The Quest of the Empty Tomb

by Elyse Salpeter

  “Seriously, Ari. What are you up to? You’ve been quieter and closer to the vest than normal these past few months. Look, I’m not expecting you to clue me in on everything you do, but since when have we ever had secrets between us?”

  Ari exhaled loudly and took her hand. He played with her fingers, noticing she’d changed her nail polish from dark purple to the same red to match her toes. He dropped her hand. “The geological surveys are for an experiment, Kelsey. Nothing more, but it’s required a lot of my time. The shiner? Nothing worth talking about. A bar, a girl, her boyfriend, same old story.”

  Kelsey shook her head. “Your libido is going to get you killed one day. You have to stop hitting up any girl who catches your eye. Some of them are taken, you know. One day you’re going to take it up with the wrong guy and get more than just a shiner.” She leaned in and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “So, what kind of experiment is it? Something I’d like?”

  “I’ll let you know when it’s time. I promise.”

  Kelsey sighed. “It seems like I live within a world of secrets. Even with you.”

  Ari shook his head. “I hold no secrets from you,” he lied. “Fine, it's a mining operation. One of my contacts is looking for a diamond mine owned by someone of a dubious nature. That’s all. What’s important is that tomorrow the real Pandora’s box to your past will open again. After that, there will be no turning back.”

  Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Oh my, God. You are so damn dramatic.”

  They sat together, listening to the soothing sounds of the mini table fountain as the water poured over the polished stones. “Do you really think Desmond is all wrong for me?”

  Ari nodded. “I do. Something’s off with him, Kelsey. He’s holding secrets from you, too. You really want to start a life with a guy like that?”

  Kelsey grimaced. “You’ve never liked any guy I dated, starting with Logan Webber back in high school.” She closed her eyes. Her purple eyeshadow had glitter on it and it shimmered in the light.

  “Logan would have been fine if he weren’t three years older than you, a former stoner, and constantly trying to get into your pants. Now, come here. You look like you could use a hug.” He held out his arms and she cuddled into them.

  “Thanks, Ari. You’re the only one I can really turn to, you know that? I feel like you always have my back.”

  He kissed the top of her head and smelled strawberries. “I always do, sis.”

  #

  It was raining the next morning, but her flight took off on time, and she made the nearly eleven-hour nonstop trip to Egypt without incident. Kelsey stared out the window at the large expanse of the Mediterranean and remembered taking this very same type of plane trip with Desmond when they had traveled to Tibet six months before. Of course, back then she still wasn’t sure how she had felt about him and now she wasn’t about to undertake the fight of her life. The fight for her very soul. And now here she sat, alone, without him and wondering suddenly what was happening between them. Why hadn’t she told him she might be pregnant? Because Ari was right. Desmond had changed since they’d come back from Tibet, and she hadn’t wanted to get into it with him with everything happening. Truthfully, they had both changed. Worse? She felt pretty sure he was hiding something important from her. It wasn’t just the jealousy causing a rift between them. It was something else. She’d catch him staring at her with a strange expression in his eyes. He’d quickly look away and pretend nothing had happened, but she would bet her life that most of these times he appeared downright terrified. She had tried to talk to him about it many times, but he always claimed everything was fine. She couldn’t get mad at him for staying silent or she’d be a hypocrite. She was hiding things from him too. Like her nightmares. Oh, why are relationships so complicated? Why can’t they just-- be?

  She leaned back in her seat, realizing she had felt fine all night and through the entire plane trip. She felt more relieved than anything else. If she were pregnant, the sheer act of traveling should have made her ill. I’m just late. It happens to everyone.

  She glanced at the older man sitting in the seat next to her in the first class cabin. He reminded her of her Quantum Physics Professor in college. Her professor had sported a shock of thick gray hair, which she swore was a toupee, and he’d been prone to wearing plaid pants in the most outrageous colors. This guy’s own orange tartan design was in a class all by itself. He also seemed a strange one. He wore an excessive amount of jewelry for a man. He had at least six ornate gold and silver rings on his fingers, all adorned with rubies, opals and emeralds. A full carat diamond stud was in his left ear, and around his neck she glimpsed a gold linked chain which disappeared within his button-down shirt. A prominent lump bulged under the shirt's fabric, so she figured a sizeable pendant must have hung from the chain. A beaded onyx bracelet graced one wrist, and his other wrist was bedecked with three colorful macramé friendship bracelets. His bracelets reminded her of the one her father had given her, composed of jade interwoven with little opal beads. She had worn it nearly every day until last month, when she’d finally replaced it with a fancy gold watch Desmond had given to her as a gift for her birthday.

  She remembered how shy he’d been at that dinner. Their birthdays came so close together, they’d decided to celebrate them with each other at a lovely Italian place. When he’d handed her the gift-wrapped box, for a second she’d been terrified that it contained an engagement ring. Not that she didn’t think about a future with him, with the occasional daydream of two kids and a house with a white picket fence, but she was concerned. She feared he might be trying to ignore their issues by proving his undying love through a marriage proposal. She was not ready to get married yet, and had been relieved he had given her the watch instead.

  The gentleman next to her attempted to do the New York Times Crossword puzzle and he’d been working on it steadily for hours. With a quick glance, she saw he was still only halfway done. She leaned over, unable to help herself any longer. Except for a few smiles, and handing his cutlery to the steward occasionally, this was the first time she’d spoken to him the entire trip. “56 down is Saqquara. Ancient City in Egypt, burial ground.”

  The man glanced at her and then back to his puzzle. His gray, bushy brows met as he squinted. “Is that with two q’s?” His accent was British.

  Kelsey nodded, smiling. Her professor had been English as well.

  With a sigh the man penciled in the letters and then looked back at the crossword. “I am barmy for even trying this,” he muttered. “This is a bloody awful puzzle.”

  A flight attendant in a formal dress and headscarf came over to Kelsey to take her snack tray away. She eyeballed Kelsey’s chest and then averted her gaze. Kelsey bristled. She’d dressed modestly for this trip out of respect for the religious laws of the country. The last thing she wanted was to get stopped for immodesty. She wore a pair of long white jeans, turquoise sandals and a high necked, light blue tank-top, covered by a long sleeved white blouse. She was dressed appropriately and might only be faulted for opting out of wearing a head scarf.

  Just then, a crackling came over the loudspeaker and the pilot announced their descent with instructions to look out their windows. It was a clear day and the color of beige bled through everything. As far as the eye could see, it seemed like sand covered everything, with small patches of green dotting the land closer to the water. The plane made a southwestern descent, and through her window Kelsey could see the Giza Pyramids in the distance. Little tiny triangles popped up in the desert. It amazed her how close the pyramids were to civilization when every photo made it seem like they sat in the middle of the desert, far away from everything.

  She sat back, wondering what her parents could have been doing that would possibly have anything to do with why Armand Dupuis was in hiding. And why did he think she could help?

  Her thoughts turned to mistakes he said he’d made. It could have been anything. Did he steal something of value and now felt guilty? Did h
e take credit for a discovery of something that wasn’t his to declare? When she had visited him, did he somehow think he had slighted her and now he had to atone? She had no answers.

  Her thoughts turned to her brother Robbie. He’d been so little when he’d gotten ill. Just two-years old when they’d diagnosed him. He’d been in and out of the hospital, and before she knew it, he was gone. One day he just didn’t come home. She’d never even gotten the chance to say goodbye. Even at the funeral they’d kept the coffin closed. As an adult she thought back on that often, and for the life of her couldn’t imagine why she had not been allowed to say her goodbyes and see his face. Her dad explained that this would be easier for everyone, and that she should remember him healthy and happy, not bald and sickly.

  The plane landed far from the terminal and they took a cramped shuttle bus to get to the airport station. After that it was on to purchase her visa entrance ticket. As she waited in line she turned on her cell phone. The text message light blinked.

  The first, second and third texts were all from Desmond. They were a profuse medley of apologies, affirmations of his love and concerns that she landed okay. She texted him back that she was fine, told him she loved him back and would call him later. The next four messages were from Jay.

  “Where r you?

  “Why aren’t you here?”

  “I can’t find you, where r u sitting?”

  “Our flight has been delayed because of weather.”

  Excellent, he’s stuck at the airport.

  She texted him back. “Do what your dad asked and stay in New York. I’m already here and you’ll only get in the way. Go find that MILF you were with last night. I’m sure she’ll splurge and buy you another bottle of wine.”

  She sent the text, knowing he might already be on the plane, but happy enough to simply annoy him. She purchased her visa and rolled her luggage towards customs. She saw so many policemen. The country was in such political turmoil right now that the security in the airport was stringent.

  As she waited in yet another line, she saw the gentleman who had been sitting next to her on the plane having a wild argument with one of the security guards. Poor guy. He never should have worn those pants and all that jewelry. He looks like a big fat target for trouble. She watched them forcibly take him out of the line and march him away. He cursed up a storm the entire time.

  Not my problem.

  Forty-five minutes later she haggled with a cabbie over how much it would be to get to her destination. When she was satisfied that she wasn’t getting ripped off, she jumped in and they made their way to Garden City, a wealthy residential district in Central Cairo where Armand had a part-time residence when he wasn’t living in France.

  #

  After passing the sprawling British embassy on Ahmed Ragab Street, the car turned down some leafy, winding side roads and pulled up to an impressive apartment house. Kelsey walked through a small garden with a fountain, mounted a few steps and a doorman opened the lobby door for her. She took her carry-on up to the front security desk and handed the guard the letter from Monsieur Dupuis. He glanced at her and then asked for identification, which she provided.

  “He told us we should expect you.”

  So Armand just assumed I would come. Cocky. Guess his son inherited that lovely trait from him.

  “His apartment is 12-10. On the twelfth floor.” He handed her a key. She was about to turn towards the elevator when the security guard called out: “Oh wait, he left this for you,” and handed her a thin envelope.

  “Anything else?”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay, thank you.” She left the lobby and caught the elevator.

  The lift smelled musty. Everything held a distinct desert and ashy odor in this part of the world. The elevator inched up to the twelfth floor and let her out in a surprisingly shabby hallway. The carpet was old and worn, appearing as if thousands upon thousands of feet had tread on it. She moved down to Armand’s apartment and inserted the key in the lock.

  She walked inside, turned on the lights and froze.

  She didn’t know what to expect, but this definitely wasn’t it. The first thing she noticed was a new smell. The scent of herbs permeated the air, but not sensual ones like the lavender or jasmine that infused her own home. These were stronger, with hints of basil, fennel and possibly even juniper. The apartment held a much more acrid odor than her own, not something she would have ever associated with relaxation. She moved into the flat, expecting a warm, cluttered space with expensive furniture, works of art and various artifacts from Armand’s digs. When she and her family visited his residence years ago, she remembered it being like a fun museum, filled with wonderful things to explore and examine.

  Obviously, times had changed. The place had no track lighting, no displays and certainly no pieces of expensive furniture designed to make it a warm and fuzzy place to live. First, the apartment was small. For someone of his caliber, she expected something much more ostentatious. Instead, she could see the entire residence layout from where she stood in the entry hall. A compact kitchen followed by a modest eating area lay to her left, and in front of her was a rectangular shaped living room. The back wall held two floor-to-ceiling windows, covered with dark brown curtains that let in no light.

  She tried to make sense of what she saw. The living room had only a few sparse furnishings. A tattered green couch, shiny from where Armand had sat, was positioned between the two windows. A rectangular glass coffee table, its side chipped and the top glass cracked, stood in front of it. A ceramic bowl filled with dried herbs rested on the table. On the wall right next to her hung a small sack. Kelsey leaned towards it and sniffed. Yes, definitely basil. She placed the envelope on the floor and moved a few steps into the apartment, past the kitchen. The eating area ahead of her was nothing more than a small, round wooden dining table with two black folding chairs. A cheap pine computer desk sat against the left wall in the living room. To her right lay another room and through its partially open door she could make out a bedroom. But the most disturbing thing in the apartment, and what confused her more than the inexpensive accoutrements for a famous archaeologist, was what lined one of the walls. On the right living room wall hung a single oil painting--a six foot high, three foot wide painting of the symbol Sa. The picture had a white background and the Sa symbol had been painted in blood red. If she remembered correctly, the Sa symbolized protection, though its origins were uncertain. Many thought the symbol represented either a life preserver used by boaters; others believed it an ancient shelter of some kind. An abundance of yellow sticky notes adorned the wall and surrounded the painting. Every note held a single number.

  That number was thirty-three.

  Kelsey wondered what could have possibly happened to this man over the years. She moved back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was empty, save for a take-out container half-filled with old falafel balls and some leftover, half eaten bowls of Um Ali. The latter was an Egyptian cream and nut pastry. She remembered that Armand loved sweets and they’d had that very dish for dessert many times during her stay with him. She opened his kitchen cabinets, finding nothing but plain white dishes and simple cutlery. One cabinet was filled with unopened bottles of red wine. A confusion of multi-sized, unmarked bottles of liquid filled the counter. She opened one and the scent of lemon balm wafted towards her. She capped the lid and opened another. This one smelled like rosewater. She stared at a bundle of burned sprigs of rosemary which sat on a plate next to the sink. She realized all of these herbs and balms were featured in the superstitious lore of Egyptian protection spells.

  What was Armand protecting himself from?

  Stymied, Kelsey stepped from the kitchen and stared once more at the living room. She moved over to one of the curtains and pushed aside the heavy drape. The bright sun nearly blinded her view of the east side of the Nile River. She let the curtain go.

  Shaking her head, she entered the bedroom. A night table stood next
to the bed, the wood surface bare except for a single silver framed photograph. It held a picture of Armand holding Jay as a toddler. They were obviously on the site of an excavation. Jay smiled happily and rested his head on his father’s shoulder. Besides that, the room contained no other personal effects. A simple, beige quilt and cream colored linens covered the beds, with nothing on the bare white walls.

  She moved back into the living room, remembering the envelope she’d left by the front door. She picked it up, then moved to the couch, pushed aside a pile of old newspapers and opened the envelope. Inside was a letter on plain writing paper. It was old and yellowed and the ink had begun to fade. Kelsey stared first at the date on top and then at the bottom of the letter, and her heart skipped a beat. It was a letter from her mother to Armand, dated sixteen years ago.

  My Dearest Armand,

  I can’t tell you how glad I was to hear from you after all this time. I was about to contact you, so it was fortuitous your letter came when it did. Benjamin and I would love to join you in Egypt this summer to assist you and your team with your newest excavation. And of course I will bring the children. I very much want you to meet Kelsey. She is everything a parent could hope for, and so much more…

  Will Jibade be there? It would give them a chance to meet. I think that would be good for both of them, don’t you think so?

  More importantly, there are things we need to discuss in private that I don’t want Benjamin to know about, as I’m sure you understand.

  The Usthatan contacted me recently. You assured me they wouldn’t find us, but apparently they have. You promised the Decan would protect us, but he obviously hasn’t. The Usthatan are adamant that we pay our debt, your debt, and say they will take matters into their own hands if I don’t act soon. I’m quite sure I can’t put them off any longer. We must address this and put it behind us. I knew it was inevitable, but I just wanted her to get a bit older. Please help me protect her.