No Living Soul
Page 13
When Slash came back out, he sat down at Elvis’s laptop and started working. I went to stand behind him.
After a few minutes, I asked, “What are you doing?”
A few more taps and he angled the laptop toward me. Arthur Zimmerman’s passport photo filled the screen.
I took a moment to study him. Easy to see the Zimmerman resemblance. He had a mop of black hair streaked with gray, black-rimmed glasses, a heavy beard and the same intense blue eyes as his sons. It was uncanny. I could pretty much see what Xavier and Elvis would look like in thirty years.
Gwen and Zizi had come up beside me and were looking at him, too.
“He didn’t have a beard when I knew him,” Zizi observed.
“Me neither,” said Elvis.
Slash stood. “Let’s keep that in mind. For now, Elvis and Lexi, you’ll watch the front door. Zizi and Gwen, you’ll be in the back, if you’re in, Zizi.”
“Of course, I’m in.”
“Good. I’ll go inside and see if I can do some reconnaissance inside the hostel. Maybe someone will know of a single American man living there.”
We ate a quick breakfast of bread, cheese and more coffee before packing up. Gwen, Elvis and I slathered on suntan lotion and made sure to bring our hats. Elvis was really nervous. His hands kept shaking and he dropped the suntan lotion twice while he was putting it on.
The second time he dropped it, I reached down and handed it to him. “Take it easy,” I said in a low voice, not wanting to embarrass him. “You’ve got this.”
We decided to walk to the hostel since Zizi insisted it was a lovely morning. Personally, I felt like I was walking around in a furnace. I clearly didn’t understand her definition of lovely morning. I also didn’t get what people meant by a dry heat. Fourteen steps from the hotel and I was sweating like I’d just run a marathon. Not that I could actually run one, but still.
Regardless, it was pretty exciting to stroll along the streets of Cairo, taking in the sights and smells of the busy city while dodging cars, motorcycles and bicycles. Zizi knew the streets, so she helped us find a less traveled route to the hostel.
When we arrived, we all took up our stations outside the entrances to the hostel. Slash disappeared inside. Elvis had a good view of the front entrance from a nearby café and Zizi was sheltered by a rare tree in the back. Gwen and I made sure they had water and we settled in to wait.
Gwen bought an English language newspaper and I read it while sitting across from Elvis, who was surreptitiously watching the front door. I was experiencing firsthand the monotony that was surveillance. No wonder Slash had to practice tai chi. Patience was hard.
Minutes stretched into hours and soon it was nearly midday. Slash came and went. Gwen wandered around to the back entrance to talk microbiology with Zizi. I walked around, stretching my legs and trying to ignore my impatience, but I was getting hotter and more uncomfortable by the minute.
I knew Elvis felt worse. Despite sitting in the shade, the strain of watching the door and his nervousness was taking a toll. He had a lot more at stake than me, so I shelved my discomfort and did what I could to keep him hydrated and engaged without distracting him from the mission.
“Have you seen the latest developments in adaptive security software from AdaptTech?” I asked him casually. “It’s pretty cool how it can predict the next strain of malware by determining how hackers will form their next attack.”
“I know, right?” Elvis perked up. “It’s based, quite correctly, on the fact that black hatters can be lazy and like to recycle techniques.”
“Yeah, it’s a good approach since—”
I didn’t get to finish because Elvis abruptly stood up, pointing at a dark-haired man in khaki shorts and a white polo shirt who had just exited the apartment complex.
“That’s him, Lexi.” His voice was strained. “That’s my father.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Text Slash and the others that you’ve spotted him,” I said, moving out from behind the table. “I’m going to follow him to make sure he doesn’t get away. Follow me when you can.”
Elvis’s hands were shaking as he pulled out his cell phone. I patted him on the shoulder. “Remember, you’ve got this.”
I darted off, leaving him texting the group. I made sure to keep my eyes focused on the white shirt. I followed at a discreet distance, trying to keep at least one or two people between us at all times. When he took a hard right onto a small street, I picked up the pace, nearly running to catch up to him. I rushed around the corner and was nearly brained by an iron pipe. It missed my head by a quarter inch and smashed into a brick wall next to my right eye.
“Holy crap!” I yelped, stepping back.
“Who are you?” He brandished the pipe. “Why are you following me?”
I was still a bit stunned I’d almost been killed by Elvis’s father. I took a couple of steps backwards, out of the alley just in case, and took a moment to find my voice. “Are you Arthur Zimmerman?”
He narrowed his eyes and advanced, still holding the pipe. “Who wants to know?”
“Me.” Elvis stepped around the corner and put a hand on my shoulder. He’d been running because he was out of breath. “Put the pipe down. She’s with me.”
The surprise on his face was visible. He dropped the pipe to the ground with a clatter. “Elvis? What are you doing here?”
It surprised me that after thirteen years, he could tell Elvis apart from Xavier so quickly. That he could had to mean something, although I wasn’t sure what.
“What do you think? I’m looking for you, Arthur.”
Not Dad or Father or anything like that. Just Arthur.
He looked over Elvis’s shoulder. “Where’s your brother?”
“He didn’t want to come.”
Arthur considered for a moment, but didn’t ask why. Guess he could figure that one out for himself. “Dammit, if I had wanted you to find me, I would have told you where I was.”
I recoiled at the anger in his voice. Thirteen years of not seeing his son and this is how he greeted him?
Elvis remained calm. “You did tell me. The return address on the letter?”
“Well, yes, but that was in case of emergency.”
“This is an emergency.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Your time would have been better spent on doing what I asked you instead of traipsing to Egypt to find me.”
“I did do what you asked. Stop pissing me off. That’s why I’m here.”
Arthur blinked in surprise. “You broke the code and figured out what the spores are? Already? Was it significant?”
“Yes.”
“That can’t be right. I calculated it would take you and your brother at least three months to crack the code in the letter, let alone study the spores. Are you sure you did it right?”
“I’m sure.” Elvis gritted his teeth. “I’m not fourteen any more, Arthur. I happen to be good at codes, not to mention, I’ve got a lot more computing power these days. Plus, I have friends who are willing to help me even if it means coming to Egypt to get assaulted by my father.”
Arthur paused a moment and then looked at me. “Sorry about that. You startled me. But, Elvis, why are you chasing me down now?”
“Because I’ve got something important to tell you. Would it have been so hard to leave a phone number where I could reach you? It might have saved me the trip.”
Arthur’s face flushed. “I didn’t want to be found. I’m being watched.” He jerked a thumb at me. “Speaking of being watched, who is she exactly?”
“Arthur, this is Lexi Carmichael. My best friend.”
“Your best friend? Why did you bring her along?”
“Because I needed help finding you.”
I heard pounding
feet behind me and saw Slash, Gwen and Zizi all running toward us. I raised a hand to flag them down, but they’d already seen us. They came skidding to a stop behind me and Elvis. The girls were breathing heavily, but Slash didn’t even look as if he’d broken into a sweat, despite the heat. Guess all that working out and tai chi was paying off.
It wasn’t a surprise that Arthur noticed Zizi first. It was hard to notice anything else when she was around.
“Zizi?” He looked stunned. “What are you doing here?”
“Arthur, where have you been?” She came up beside him, panting a bit. She adjusted her scarf and pushed her hair off her shoulders. “There are a lot of people worried about you.”
“You shouldn’t have been worried. I just needed to disappear for a while.”
“You should have trusted me to help. I thought I was your friend.”
“You are my friend, and I do trust you. It’s just... I thought it was better this way.” He noticed Slash and Gwen. “Who are they?”
Elvis spoke on their behalf. “That’s Gwen Sinclair and Slash. More of my friends.”
“You involved more people, as well as Zizi?” His expression was incredulous. “Good Lord, Elvis. What exactly have you told them?”
“Pretty much everything I know, which isn’t much.” He glanced apologetically at Zizi. “Except for her. We just met.”
Arthur staggered back. “How could you divulge such sensitive information? You could have jeopardized the entire situation.”
“What situation?”
“I uncover perhaps the most significant biblical archeological find of the past four thousand years—one that dwarfs my vastly unappreciated caves inscriptions—and you show up here with a bunch of your friends, presumably to help? I suppose if I had found the burial place of Moses you would be asking me for a tour right now.” Arthur threw up his hands and then sighed in exasperation. “You probably led them right to me.”
“Who is them?”
Honestly, I was starting to get mad on Elvis’s behalf. This guy had nerve. We’d flown halfway around the world to warn him about something he’d sent to his own sons with little to no instruction as to the danger, and all he could think about was himself?
To my surprise, Elvis remained poised, which was more than I would have been if this was my father. “Do you want to know what I found out or not?”
Excitement flashed in Arthur’s eyes. He glanced furtively around the alley. “Don’t say a word more. You never know who might be listening. Let’s return to my room so you can fill me in on what you discovered. Come on. Hurry.”
He pushed past us and headed toward the hostel. I exchanged a glance with Elvis, who sighed, but—without any other recourse—followed his father.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When we got back to the hostel, we squeezed into Arthur’s small room. Zizi and Gwen sat on the bed while Slash leaned against the wall next to a tiny desk with a laptop on it. I stood against the back of the door so that Elvis and Arthur could have center stage, facing each other.
“Okay, Arthur, enough of the cloak and dagger.” Elvis had his hands on his hips, and his eyes narrowed. Why did you code the letter you sent to me and Xavier?”
“Why do you think?” Arthur replied. “I didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands. What did you and your brother discover?”
“For the record, Xavier didn’t want any part of this.”
Arthur shrugged. “I’m not surprised. He was always the rebellious one. So, what did you find?”
“Well, despite the inanity of you sending an unknown biological substance through the mail, I had enough common sense to proceed carefully with it. What were you thinking, Arthur? What if the vial had broken en route? What if Xavier or I had opened it before we decoded and read your letter? Didn’t the danger posed to us ever occur to you?”
“What danger? I raised you boys with more sense than that. Obviously nothing happened, so let’s not dwell on what could have happened and focus on what you’ve found.”
Elvis drew in a breath and I could tell he was trying hard to keep his cool. It couldn’t have been easy. My blood pressure was rising exponentially and Arthur wasn’t even my father.
“I’m not even sure why you sent the vial to Xavier and me in the first place,” Elvis said. “We’re not microbiologists. You had to know that once we decoded your letter, we’d have to bring in a specialist to help.”
“Of course, I knew you would. But I figured you would be discreet.”
“I was discreet,” Elvis said.
“See? Excellent.”
“Arthur, I’m a microbiologist,” Zizi interrupted angrily. “I separated those initial spores for you. I could have assisted you without you having to send the spores to America. Why didn’t you consult further with me on this? I could have helped you.”
“Zizi, my dear, as much as I appreciate your expertise and thoroughness, your loyalty lies with the museum. I couldn’t risk you going to Haji until I was ready.” He glanced back at Elvis. “So, what did you find?”
Gwen stood up. “I believe that’s my cue to speak. Is that your laptop?” She glanced at the desk.
Arthur nodded. “It is. Who are you again?”
“Gwen Sinclair. I work with Elvis at ComQuest in Baltimore. I’m a microbiologist on staff and the person Elvis consulted with regard to the sample you sent him in the vial.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a flash drive. “I’ve got the information you need right here on this drive, so if you’ll permit me to load it to your computer, I’ll pull it up. I think it will help you to have a visual.”
Arthur glanced at Elvis, who nodded. He shrugged. “Be my guest. Let me get you in the system first.” He booted up the laptop and typed in his password. As he vacated the chair, he motioned for Gwen to sit in it.
“Thanks,” she said. She plugged in the flash drive and transferred the contents onto his desktop. “I’ve just downloaded the annotations from my testing and excerpts from the spores. It also contains my professional assessment of the ideal environment for its rapid reproduction.”
Arthur peered at the screen as she opened the first of her documents. Zizi joined him, trying to see what Gwen had pulled up on the screen.
“What’s your analysis?” Arthur asked.
“The analysis is they are ancient and uncataloged endospores.”
“Endospores?” Zizi said, stunned.
Arthur looked surprised as well. He placed a hand on his forehead. “Endospores,” he murmured.
“If I’d known what you’d sent had been found in an ancient artifact in Egypt, I never would have tested them myself. As it was, my test results were astonishing, not to mention, scary. Mr. Zimmerman, you basically found seeds for a virulent plague. Even worse, the subsequent DNA sequencing I generated could potentially allow a competent scientist to recreate the plague from synthetic material and modern day analogs using the spores. Unfortunately, I destroyed the endospores you’d sent during testing so I had nothing to pass on to the authorities for further examination.”
“Authorities?” Arthur’s voice rose. “You would have had no right.”
“She would have had every right.” Elvis stepped between her and Arthur. “We’re talking about spores that could reignite an ancient plague in today’s world.”
“A plague,” Arthur breathed, his eyes now taking on a faraway look. “That makes perfect sense.”
“What makes sense? Where did you find the spores, Arthur?” Elvis asked.
But Arthur was in his own world. “An instrument of destruction created by God to be used against those who would harm His chosen people.”
“What are you talking about?” Elvis said. “Just tell me where you found the spores.”
Arthur snapped back to focus. “Not yet.”
Arthur studied Gwen. “I need to know more of what this young lady found before I say anything more. Please, Ms. Sinclair, start at the beginning and explain it to me clearly.”
Elvis blew out a frustrated breath and stalked out of the room, letting the door slam behind him. Slash exchanged a glance with me, pushed off the wall and followed him.
Gwen twisted around in the chair, looking to me for guidance. Like I knew how to sort out this mess.
I sighed. It wasn’t like I had a lot of options. “Go ahead and tell him what you know.”
Gwen turned back to her research and began explaining in greater detail. Arthur and Zizi interrupted her often, asking questions and requiring clarification.
An hour passed. I was lost about fifteen minutes into the discussion with all the talk of microbes and bacteria. Finally, Gwen stood up, stretching. “I’m famished and dying of thirst. Where’s Elvis?”
He hadn’t returned and neither had Slash. I shrugged. “I guess we could get a bite to eat. They might be out front. Is there someplace close by we can catch a bite?”
Zizi nodded. Her eyes were lit and her face flushed with excitement. Who knew microbiology could be so thrilling? “There’s an excellent restaurant on the corner. Let’s go.”
Arthur locked up his room and we exited the building. Elvis was sitting at the same café table where we’d been sitting earlier watching for Arthur. Despite the fact an hour had passed, he still looked extremely angry at his father.
Slash was nowhere in sight.
“We’re going to get something to eat and drink,” I said to Elvis. “Gwen has told them everything she knows.”
He stood, looking at Gwen. “Thank you.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“Where’s Slash?” I looked around.
“He left a bit ago to take care of something,” Elvis said. “He didn’t specify.”