“Like keeping people young again?”
“Maybe.”
A memory of a conversation with one of Sean’s colleagues, Neil Briars, the previous Christmas came back to me.
“You think he’ll be selling people a placebo?”
“Placebos work, don’t they?”
“All you need is for people to believe,” I said, echoing Neil Briar’s words to me.
We turned onto a side road. In the distance I could see the Sphinx.
“We’ll be at the research center in a few minutes. The Egyptian government officials will start coming in from eight. You can come up with me to the Great Pyramid. I need to check everything is ready for sliding out the capstone to the tunnel that leads up from the King’s Chamber.”
“Is it safe?”
“We’ve had video camera probes up beyond the stone. That’s how we know there’s a passage. We’ve tested the air quality too. We foresee no danger.”
“But there could be anything at the end of the passage?”
“Yeah, sure. That’s why there’ll only be a few people in the King’s Chamber when we move the stones. Most of the experts will be outside watching on monitors. It’s a big event. We’ll stream live on a hundred media websites all over the world.”
“You couldn’t have sent a robot probe all the way up this passage?”
“No, the angle is too steep. When a previous team put a robot walker through another tunnel its motor conked out because of the angle. And the limestone used in the construction of the passages and much of the Great Pyramid, has a very high water content. This has an unusual effect on electrical signals inside the pyramid.”
We slowed as we approached an entrance on the left. Six military personnel with black machine pistols were standing in front of a locked gate. As we stopped in front of the gate they raised their weapons and pointed them at us. Flood lights came on.
“What the hell is going on?” said Mike, in a low voice.
14
Ahmed Yacoub stood in front of the full length mirror. He was naked. His belly stuck out, as if he was pregnant. The bedroom had a canopy covered bed large enough to hold a party on, a floor to ceiling window overlooking Cairo, and a gilt covered desk that could have been in Louis XIV’s bedroom.
The carpet was chocolate brown and as thick as the skin of a lamb. On his left a young woman, also naked, with large breasts, was holding a syringe up, expelling tiny drops into the air.
“Don’t waste any,” he said.
“I won’t, master.” She held it out. “Are you ready?”
He closed his eyes. “Do it.”
She pushed the needle into his buttocks. He trembled. She wrapped her arms around him, extending one hand down to under his belly.
“Where is your sister?” He sounded angry.
“She will be here soon. Would you not like just me this morning?” She rubbed her breasts again his back.
He shook his head. “Get my phone,” he said, pointing at one of the gilt edged side tables beside the bed. He walked to the window. Cairo was engulfed in a dark mist below him. The horizon was lit with the first false dawn of a new day.
She passed him the phone. He pressed at it until his encrypted call app opened. He clicked at one of the stored contacts, put the phone to his ear.
“You still wake early, Ahmed,” came a thin voice a few seconds later.
“This is the most important day for Egypt in a generation, why would I not wake early to enjoy it.” He smiled, put a hand on the thick plate glass. In the apartment block below him lights turned on. A woman came to the window. She looked up. He stared back at her. She disappeared.
“You have made the second transfer?” came the voice in his ear.
“Our Swiss partners will make the transfer in one hour. They are waiting on news that we have all survived the night.”
“Have no worries on that account. Special forces have taken up positions at all your facilities. They have orders to shoot to kill.”
“Good. The Egyptian Republic will thank you when all this is done.”
“I’ll thank you when every transfer has been made, Ahmed.” The line went dead.
On his back he could feel four hands stroking him. He turned. The two young women pressed their naked bodies into him.
He smiled. The effects of the injection were beginning to be obvious. One of the girls giggled. The other one grabbed him.
“Tell me how our doctor friend struggled again,” he said in a low, rasping tone.
One of them leaned close to his ear. She began whispering.
The other laughed as she watched the effect on his manhood. The whispering went on. His hands became fists and his face grew red.
“Stop!” he roared.
They moved away, bowed low, knelt, their foreheads touched the carpet.
“Get the prisoner!” he roared.
15
I took my passport out of my bag, handed it to the khaki clad soldier at my window. Mike was holding his out through the other side. Our driver had his hands in the air. He was talking fast to another soldier. Others, with their guns trained on us, were standing nearby. The red metal gate to the compound, topped with barbed wire, was closed.
Mike joined in the conversation in Arabic. Within seconds he was shouting. An officer with red epaulets on his shoulders, who had been standing at the cement block security cabin, strode forward. He pushed the soldier at the driver’s window aside and peered in at us.
“I am sorry to detain you, professor,” he said, in perfect English. “But we must check everyone who comes in here while we are on security alert.” His gaze slipped towards me.
“You have an assistant with you today?” His words were not aimed at me.
“She is my guest. Is there a problem?”
“I will be back shortly.” He went to the security cabin to the left of the entrance. Sandbags had been piled up on the side of the cabin facing the road. They had Arabic writing on them.
“I’ve never seen them so jumpy,” said Mike. “I hope they let the media through up at the pyramid.”
“It’s an important day for Mr. Yacoub. I expect he doesn’t want anything to go wrong.” I was wondering if they’d start asking why I was in Cairo, and if I should tell them about Sean being missing.
The officer walked towards us, our passports in his hand. He passed both of them to Mike. “You are free to go in, professor.” He glanced at me. “And to bring your guest, but she is your responsibility when she is here.”
I leaned forward. “Has the security situation improved since last night?”
He stared back at me, as if wondering how to answer me.
“The crowds in the city dispersed last night, Mrs. Ryan.” He paused, pointed a finger at me. “Our response to the attacks on our military personnel were appropriate. Please make sure you report that when you get back to your job in London.”
I stared back at him. How did he know where I worked?
He leaned in towards me. “You are most welcome here.” His face was impassive. As we drove through the metal gate, which had opened, I looked back. The officer had his phone to his ear and was talking into it.
“What was that about?” said Mike.
“I work for a group that helps people who want to leak wrong doing.”
He didn’t reply. I stared straight ahead. A square concrete building, four stories high, loomed in front of us. Palm trees stood around it and a car park, mostly empty, stood in front of it. Beyond the building I could see the Great Pyramid. We were separated from it only by a wire fence with floodlights and black hooded cameras at regular intervals. After the fence rough stony ground sloped upwards towards the pyramid.
The driver pulled up in front of the building. As we got out Mike turned to me and said, “I wish you’d told me where you worked when I met you.”
“Why?” I followed him to the front door. It was made of dark glass. All the windows of the building had closed blinds behind them
. A camera above the front doors pointed at us.
“Mr. Yacoub is very picky about who he invites to his events, that’s all.” He swiped a card over a card reader, then held the glass door open for me.
“He’s afraid of stuff getting out about him?”
“He likes to spin things his way.”
“Tell him not to worry. I’m not planning to meet any whistle blowers here. All I want is help to find my husband.”
Mike stopped at the bottom of a set of wide white steps leading up. The stairwell went all the way up the inside of the building. Glass barriers at each level controlled access from the stairwell.
“I understand, but you’ll have to wait here.” He pointed at a square of white leather chairs nearby. “I’ll be back soon.” He smiled. “I just need to check everything is ready.”
The atmosphere between us had chilled to below freezing.
I stepped towards him. “You have my word, Mike. Nothing I see here will be repeated anywhere, posted anywhere or spoken about to anyone.” I put my hand on my heart. “I have zero interest in what your boss is up to.”
I put a hand out towards him. “Please, I need to find out if my husband was admitted to any hospital here in Egypt. That’s all. Then I’m leaving Cairo forever.”
Mike blinked, leaned towards me. “Don’t worry, Isabel. I’m going to help you, I just have to be seen to do the right thing. Yacoub is one of the most paranoid people I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a few paranoids in academic land.”
He leaned close to me. “If your husband ever came to Cairo we will find out. Yacoub has access to every database in Egypt.” He put a hand on my arm. It lingered there a second longer than it should have. His eyes opened as he pulled away, as if he was stopping himself showing any glimpse of how he felt.
I sat down on one of the chairs, stared at the glass table in front of me. I knew the effect I had on some men. It was a pain in the ass. I bent my head. Where the hell was Sean? Why did I have to go through all this crap?
A faint buzzing sound sent me twisting my head to see where it was coming from. Then I remembered. My phone might be on silent. It does that to itself sometimes when I push it into my bag. I fished it out. I didn’t know the number. Was that an Egyptian number ringing me?
I tapped at the phone, put it to my ear.
“Mrs. Ryan, come quick. I have news of your husband. You must come now!” It was the taxi driver who’d taken me to the hospital.
I stood, as if a bolt of iron had shot up through me.
“What news have you found. Tell me.” My stomach somersaulted. Tears pricked behind my eyes. My words caught in my throat. Could he really be alive?
“Come. You must come. A nurse saw him. He saw your husband. He is going off his shift in one hour. Come to the hospital now. I will be there to translate.”
I looked around, went to the window, pulled a blind up. Could I get a taxi from the street outside?
“I’m coming. I’ll be there. Where do we meet?”
“In the car park, where I was parking last time.” He sniffed. “And Mrs. Ryan, bring cash. We will have to pay him.”
My heart twisted. Was this a scam? Oh my God. Was I being taken for a desperate fool?
“Okay.” I put the phone back in my pocket, walked to the reception desk.
A security guard dressed in black looked up as I approached. He had a small black bird insignia on his breast pocket. It looked as if he was covering reception until the day time staff appeared.
“Please call Mike Bayford for me,” I said, leaning over the desk in my eagerness to get out of the place. Mike might be able to call me a taxi.
The guard looked at me as if I was an alien.
“Professor Bayford, please.” I raised my voice. I looked up. A black suited guard at the next level, by the stairs, was looking down at me. I glanced at the main door. Was I going to be able to get out of here?
“Professor Bayford!” I repeated, with a desperate edge to my voice now.
At last, the baffled look on the guard’s face was replaced by a smile. He nodded, reached towards a black phone on the desk in front of him. He pressed at the keypad, put the phone to his ear, then spoke a stream of Arabic into the mouthpiece, all the time staring at me.
I paced the reception area, from the door, back to the desk, where the guard was absorbed in watching me. Minutes passed. I took out my phone, thought about calling the taxi driver and asking him to come out and pick me up. I looked at my watch. It was seven-thirty. The nurse was probably getting off work at eight. I looked up the stairs. Mike wasn’t coming. I had to make a decision.
I headed for the door, yanked it open, sprinted across the car park, heading for the main gate. There had to be taxis in this area. It was near the pyramids. They’d be dropping tourists out here. But what if I was wrong? What if taxis didn’t pick lone women up on the street here?
I stopped, looked back at the building. Torn is not a feeling I am used to. I know what to do mostly. I base decisions on gut feel and my knowledge of the options. But my gut was telling me to be careful and my knowledge of this part of Cairo was minimal.
I stared at the building, weighing up the options. How long would it be before Mike reappeared? Was he in a meeting, which the guards were afraid to break into?
I looked at the gate. A memory of Sean, smiling at me, filled my mind. I had to take this chance. I ran on. The soldiers on this side of the gate were already staring at me, three of them with their guns pointed in my direction. Another one had a phone to his ear.
As I got near, the rough, almost white gravel crunched under my feet. My heart was pounding. I waved, trying to appear as friendly as possible. The three soldiers stood together now. Two of them were whispering to each other. A sickening feeling filled my chest. They were talking about me. I knew young Egyptian women usually didn’t go out alone.
I also knew that a woman’s honor in this country was a prize her family would kill for.
I strode the final few yards to the gate.
“Please let me through,” I said, pointing at the gate.
The soldiers looked at each other, shrugged. They had stupid blank looks on their faces. I was tempted to shout at them.
The officer who had spoken to us appeared from the gate house.
“What is wrong Mrs. Ryan?” He stood about three feet from me. He was taller than I’d thought. His expression was a mix of pity and feigned friendliness.
“I need to get back into the city. Please open the gate.”
“Professor Bayford is on his way. Please wait here.” He pointed at the building behind me. I looked around. Mike had appeared. He was with the driver. They were heading for the mini bus. I crossed my arms.
The mini bus arrived. Mike got out.
“What happened, Isabel?” His tone was angry. His lips pressed together, as if he was controlling himself.
“I got a call from the taxi driver I was with yesterday. He’s found someone who might have seen Sean. I have to get back into the city.”
He shook his head. “Isabel, be careful. People are going to take advantage here, if they think you’ll pay for information.”
“I know, but I have to do this.” I was surprised at how strongly my words came out. There was a touch of desperation to them. I made a fist and held it tight to my side. My heart was beating faster than it should have. Was I clutching at stupid straws?
“Isabel, why don’t you let my driver take you there? Where exactly are you going?”
It crossed my mind not to tell him, but he’d find out anyway if I used his driver, and even if I wanted to hide it from him he could have me followed. Why shouldn’t I trust him? I’d told him about the hospital already. I also needed his help. I was more likely to get it if I trusted him.
“I’m going to the hospital I visited yesterday. He’s waiting for me there.” I looked at my watch. It was twenty-five to eight.
“I have to go.” I reached out, touched his arm.
&n
bsp; His expression softened. “Be careful. Don’t promise anyone money for information.”
He walked to the mini bus. I followed him. He spoke a long stream of Arabic to the driver, then waved me to get in.
“Good luck. I hope you find out what happened. The driver will wait for you. He’ll bring you to the pyramid when you’re finished. He’ll be coming back for me. You could arrive in time for the opening ceremony, if you get this business done fast.” He paused. “That’s if you want to come to it.”
“I do. This could all be a wild goose chase.”
“I’ll leave your name with security. Good luck.” He opened his arms.
I hesitated, then hugged him.
“Thanks.”
A minute later we were heading back into the city. The driver turned to me as we stopped at a traffic light. He smiled, as if he knew my mission. I looked away. Was I about to get taken? Our trainer, almost ten years ago, when I went to work for the British Consulate in Istanbul, had explicitly warned us about paying for information. “If you pay in cash, expect to have to double check everything you are told.” I still remembered the words he’d used. We were training for administrative positions, but we’d still received three months of basic security, self-defense and anti-kidnap training.
At the next traffic lights he turned to me. “Passport?” he said, looking at me with a frown.
“What?”
He replied by pointing up ahead. A stream of stopped cars filled the road. I squinted. Beyond them I could see the barrel of a tank, pointed towards us.
“Army,” he said, as we slowed and joined the queue.
I counted the cars ahead of us. There was at least twenty. And they weren’t moving.
16
Henry Mowlam was on duty that Saturday morning. He’d arrived early at six-thirty. Getting in before his team was important. He could allocate tasks and get a feel for what the day would bring.
That morning it was all about Egypt. The general, who had been President of the Egyptian Republic for less than a year, had been helicoptered to the Montaza Palace, a wedding cake style building in the eastern suburbs of Alexandria. President Mubarak had installed an underground control room there. It was an ideal location to oversee the crushing of any revolt against his rule.
The Cairo Puzzle Page 5
