Essie clenched her fists. She needed to call Garvé from the privacy of her hotel to tell him that Ben was on their tail. But if I’m stuck here . . . She had another idea. ‘Professor, now that I think of it, a mint tea would be wonderful. And a slice of cake, of course.’ She smiled sweetly at the director. ‘But I must ask you a favour. A colleague from the government is expecting a call from me about a very important matter. Might I use your telephone? I’ll also need to trouble you for some privacy while we speak – it’s a rather sensitive matter.’
‘But of course, good lady.’
‘We might have a problem.’
She heard the intake of breath at the other end of the line. ‘What?! What is it?’
‘Benedict Hitchens. He’s been here at the museum. Looking at the inscription.’
‘Oh. Is that all? Nothing to worry about, I can assure you.’ Josef Garvé’s relief was palpable.
‘The fact he’s been here doesn’t bother you at all?’
‘No. I’d heard he was sniffing around. We suspected the Americans and Russians would be hunting for this damned thing. So I’ve had someone keeping an eye on the archive in Topkapı to find out who paid the manuscript a visit. And it seems Dr Hitchens is one of the interested parties. I’m surprised he found his way to Cairo so quickly, though. I may have underestimated him.’
‘And you didn’t think it worth sharing that information with me?’ Essie snapped.
There was a moment’s silence before Garvé responded. ‘Well, considering the way things ended with the two of you . . . I felt it might cloud your reason if you knew he was involved.’
‘That’s an insult to my professionalism, Josef.’
‘It’s not intended to be taken that way. I did it out of concern for you.’
Bullshit, she thought. The day you do something for anyone other than yourself will be the day I go skiing off-piste in Hades.
‘Anyway,’ Garvé continued. ‘Even if he’s worked out where the tablet is, within a matter of days, the place he needs to be will be inaccessible to anyone. Other than us, of course. You’ve nothing to worry about. I promise.’
Essie placed the phone back in its cradle. A deep sense of unease had worked its way into her bones. It may have been caused by the knowledge that she was in a race against the one other person she knew had the skills to find the tablet. Or it might have been the corrosive and all too familiar sense of regret she felt any time she thought of Ben. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
Either way, she wished she shared Garvé’s confidence in their ability to outwit the American. She knew what he was capable of, and it worried her.
21
Cairo, Egypt
As he darted between the donkey carts and buses zigzagging along the Nile Corniche, Ben thought that if there was any positive benefit to Cairo’s chaotic traffic, it was that it made it very easy to disappear.
Heart pounding, he passed between the twin lions and obelisks at the easternmost end of the Qasr El Nil Bridge, conscious of anyone following him. Other than the obligatory stares – many of them scornful – at the sight of a European walking the streets, Ben didn’t detect any untoward interest in his passing. But he hadn’t been able to spot the shooter at the Egyptian Museum, either before or after the attack, so if he was still being followed, he doubted that whoever it was who’d killed Harry and Roger would be careless enough to let Ben see him now.
He was still processing what had just occurred and what it meant. The shooter at the museum had put a bullet in the brains of two men from what must have been a reasonable distance. That meant they’d known exactly what they were doing, and Ben assumed that if they’d wanted him dead, he’d be lying cold on the pavement beside the two Americans. He might have found some comfort in that realisation if he had any idea why the shooter had allowed him to live. But he hadn’t put in an order for a guardian angel, and without knowing the motivations of whoever had intervened in his confrontation with Harry and his friend, the niggling fatalism underpinning Ben’s world view assured him that whatever the reason, it was unlikely to be good news for him.
The screaming wail of sirens tearing through Tahrir Square towards the museum spurred him to action.
Time to put a little distance between me and the dead bodies, he thought. And if he was to follow this trail to its logical endpoint, he needed to see Ethan Cohn. If anyone could help him unravel the clues he’d just discovered, it would be him. And that meant he and Ilhan needed to go to Jerusalem.
Hailing a passing taxi, he gave the driver directions to Arcadia.
He found Ilhan stretched out on a deckchair on the tiled patio beside the slow-moving waters of the Nile, eyes closed and breathing heavily as he indulged in a nap in the warm sunshine.
Ben shook his shoulder. ‘Ilhan? We need to go. Now.’
Starting awake, his friend shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at Ben. ‘That was a very pleasant dream you just interrupted, Ben. What’s the hurry?’
‘Someone’s been shot.’
Startled, Ilhan stumbled to his feet. ‘Shot? Who?’
‘Nobody you know. But I was there. And I don’t want to get caught up here by the police.’
Ilhan shook his head. ‘Ben, this isn’t a game. I don’t understand why you’re persisting. Let’s just go back to Istanbul.’
‘I can’t, Ilhan. The more I’m finding out about what they’re up to, the more convinced I am that this is something pretty serious. Besides, I made a promise to Sebile.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘I promised her I’d make sure the tablet didn’t find its way into the wrong hands.’
‘I thought your life’s work was breaking the promises you make to women,’ Ilhan mumbled.
‘Don’t be an idiot. We’re getting close. I can’t stop now.’
‘Well, your friend will be happy to hear we’re leaving.’
‘Who?’
‘The countess. She’s suddenly quite desperate to push us out the door.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We had an afternoon of sightseeing planned, but she took a phone call and had to postpone our trip while she went out. Ever since she returned, she’s been on edge. Keeps asking when I think you’ll be back and trying to convince me we’d be much happier staying in a hotel.’
‘Ah, Christ!’ Ben exclaimed.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I’ll tell you later. Can you get our things together?’ he asked. ‘Meet me downstairs. Meantime, I’ll see what’s going on.’
Countess Katerina met Ben in Arcadia’s grand entrance foyer, the dusty crystal chandelier hanging above their heads casting rainbows on the marble-tiled floor.
‘Benedict. You are here. I’m so relieved. I thought I heard you return.’ She grasped his wrist and Ben could feel her hand quivering. ‘I must warn you – in the city, things are getting dangerous. Terrible things are happening.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
‘You know I’d happily have you stay here for as long as you like . . .’
‘You always were the most gracious host.’ Ben smiled cautiously. Bloody hell, he cursed. Fucking Harry was right. I hate that.
‘. . . but I fear you may end up in trouble if you stay.’
‘You know me, darling lady. I’ve spent a lifetime getting myself into trouble. I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle. But, as a matter of fact, something’s come up. We’re going to have to leave, anyway.’
The nervous tension in her body evaporated. ‘I am so glad to hear that. But might I insist you make it sooner rather than later?’
Footsteps on the marble behind Ben heralded Ilhan’s arrival. ‘All packed.’
‘Great. I’ll just need to go and arrange a driver to take us to Alexandria. I won’t be long.’
‘A driver? No – you should go now. There’s no time to waste. Farouk will take you in my car.’
‘Farouk? Really, that won’t be necessary . . .’
She ushered the two men towards the rear of the house. ‘I insist. You’ll find him in the garage.’
As she heard the sound of gravel crushed beneath the tyres of more than one vehicle in the front driveway, Katerina’s movements took on a renewed sense of urgency. She glanced frantically over her shoulder at the front door. ‘No! They’re here already! Ben, you must go! Now! Farouk can take you out the service entrance. It leads to the bridge. They won’t even know you were here.’
‘“They”? Who’re “they”?’
Katerina embraced him, her head barely reaching his shoulder. ‘Please forgive me. I just tell the Soviets about the movements of foreign nationals in the city. I didn’t think it would do any harm – they’re never particularly interested in what I have to say. But when I told them about where you were going and what you were looking for . . .’
‘Don’t apologise, countess. I understand. But what will they do when they find we’ve gone? Will you be safe?’
She laughed scornfully. ‘From those boors? They wouldn’t presume to lay a hand on me.’
He kissed the crown of her head. ‘Thank you, Katerina. I’ll return another time and we’ll laugh about this.’
Countess Katerina Anastasia Orlova bent and scooped Vladimir Ilyich into her arms. The lizard took up his perch on her shoulder.
She stood in the foyer and listened to the heavy footsteps outside her front door, followed by an impatient pummelling of fists on the heavy oak. Stepping forward, she released the latch.
‘Comrade Orlova . . .’ trumpeted the bull-headed man who pushed past her into her home.
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘You’d rather we use your title, would you?’ the man sneered. ‘Never again. Not if I have anything to do with it. Where is he?’
‘Who?’
‘Who do you think? Your house guest.’
‘He’s gone.’ She held her head high on her noble neck, fixing the Russian with a haughty glare born of generations of aristocratic breeding.
‘Did you warn him we were coming?’ He glared at her from beneath an incongruously angelic mop of golden curls.
She laughed dismissively. ‘What if I did?’
The Russian looked up at the men who’d followed him into the entrance. ‘Search the house.’
‘You won’t find anything. They’re long gone.’
The man’s hand flashed out, slapping her hard on the cheek.
She pulled back, shocked. ‘How dare you!’ she snapped.
‘How dare I?’ He pulled a gun from a holster strapped to his side, chambered a round and shot her between the eyes. ‘How dare you!’
She slumped back onto the floor, lifeless. Vladimir Ilyich, who’d clung to her shoulder as she fell, scrambled onto her chest and sat stock-still, staring at his mistress’ murderer with an unblinking gaze.
The Russian poked her with the toe of his shoe. ‘Fool.’
22
Alexandria, Egypt
‘No! No more ferries! No ferries going and no ferries coming, sir!’ The man at the port office in Alexandria looked at Ben and waved his hand frantically at the military vehicles jamming the roads into the harbour. ‘How is there ferries? War is coming! No boats in or out. Only navy! Only soldiers!’ The black telephone on his desk jangled insistently and the Egyptian grabbed the handset and started yammering into the mouthpiece in Arabic, his visitors already forgotten.
Ben and Ilhan walked down the short flight of steps from the office. ‘Well, that’s going to make getting to Jerusalem fairly challenging, isn’t it?’ observed Ilhan unnecessarily.
The autumn sun beat down on Ben’s shoulders and he slipped his sunglasses back on to shield the glare reflecting off the asphalt road. ‘Not going to give up that easily, my friend.’
Dodging past ranks of troops marching in line and buffeted by the salty winds blowing across the bay, Ben and Ilhan made their way towards the Corniche that ran in an elegant curve along Alexandria’s Mediterranean waterfront and was fringed by grand, tiered edifices housing fashionable clubs and hotels.
The sight of a tall, blond-headed European man walking side by side with someone who looked like an Arab attracted many curious – and contemptuous – glances. Ben barely noticed. ‘When I was here during the war, you could hardly move for all the smugglers plying their trade between Africa and Europe,’ he said. ‘I doubt it’s any different today. Can’t tell me we won’t be able to find someone willing to scoot us over to Tel Aviv if we pay them enough. Come on, Ilhan. This is your area of expertise. Surely you’ll be able to sort something out!’
‘I’m sure I could, Ben. But don’t you think it’s about time we admitted defeat?’ He indicated the jumble of soldiers and military vehicles tearing along the streets. ‘Look – it’s hardly a good time to be heading east. You know what I think is a much better idea? Let’s find ourselves a nice little pension on a beach outside the city and put our feet up for a bit. Have a holiday while we wait out the troubles. Swim. Fish. Play some cards. And if you’re still keen to pursue it when this political mess cools off, you can continue your search then.’
Ben laughed. ‘Wait? Thought you knew me better than that. Come on, Ilhan. You know I’m not giving up on this. Everything I’ve learnt over the past few days just confirms something deadly serious is going on. Three people killed? Whatever it is, it’s big. If I was still only motivated by nothing more than my rather petty desire for revenge, I might agree with you. But now I’m worried. And if you don’t help me, I’ll go down to the port and start asking around myself. It might take a little longer, but you know I’ll eventually find someone. Wouldn’t you rather it was someone you know we can trust? It’d certainly be my preference.’
‘There’s really no talking you out of this, then?’
‘Not a chance.’
‘Fine. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Great! Where should we start looking?’
‘There’s no “we” in this, Ben. In case you hadn’t noticed, at the moment, you’re persona non grata round here. I’ll have a much better chance if I do this by myself.’
Ben knew he was right. ‘Fine. There’s a café on the ground floor of the Cecil Hotel. I’ll wait for you there.’
Speaking over his shoulder as he strode back towards the port, Ilhan tried one last time. ‘Are you sure this is what you want, Ben?’
‘Absolutely.’
The warm smell of cloves and cardamom made Ben’s mouth water as he sipped from a small, gilt-edged cup filled with freshly brewed Arabic coffee.
Outside the Cecil Hotel’s arched windows, he watched the wind whip across the Mediterranean, setting aflutter the feathery tops of the colonnade of palms planted along the Corniche.
The city had been established by and named for the man whose presence in this part of the world had left more of a mark than almost any other – Alexander the Great. In his wake came the great Ptolemaic queen, Cleopatra, whose palace had since been lost in one of the many earthquakes that had ravaged the city.
At the far end of the promenade that edged the bay on the easternmost end of Pharos Island was the now-abandoned Citadel of Qaitbay, built by the Mamelukes in the fifteenth century on the site of the ancient Lighthouse of Alexandria, one of the seven wonders of the world, whose light could once be seen thirty miles out to sea.
They were her last words to me . . . ‘We will meet at the base of the famous lighthouse of Alexandria . . . I have always wanted to see it.’ The thought erupted, unbidden, into Ben’s mind. Karina.
It had been here that Ben had waited for the arrival of the British frigate that was to have brought his Greek wife to meet him after he’d arrived in the city on a faster launch from Crete to deliver the captured Nazi collaborator, Josef Garvé, to British authorities. A shadow of the same hollow sense of disbelief and icy chill of dread assaulted him as he recalled the moment he’d heard of the German capture of the ship that had been carrying Karina to him and his grim but frantic efforts to get
back to the island to save her.
Cleopatra and Mark Antony . . . that’s who we are . . . Cleopatra and Mark Antony. That had been his only thought as the launch he’d managed to commandeer cut through the waves towards Crete. And like those star-crossed ancient lovers, theirs was not to be a happy ending. He’d arrived too late. Karina had died in German hands, along with the child she’d been carrying. His child.
‘Waiter?’ He summoned the liveried bartender. ‘Double scotch, please.’
Being alone with his thoughts for too long never served Ben well. It was why he tried to stay in perpetual motion.
The sun was setting in a blaze of colour when Ilhan returned.
‘I’ve found someone. A good man. He’ll take us tonight.’ He took in Ben’s slightly glazed expression and the half-finished drink sitting on the table in front of him. ‘I see. Everything all right, Ben?’
He looked up. ‘Absolutely. Just memories. You know how it is.’
‘Well, I’d put those memories to one side and switch to coffee if I were you.’ Ilhan called the waiter over. ‘It’s going to be a long journey. You’ll need to have your wits about you.’ He ordered coffee and sandwiches. ‘Are you still sure you want to go ahead, Ben? It’s not too late to pull out.’
Ben shook his head. ‘Not on your life. I’m doing this. I have to.’
23
Akrotiri, Cyprus
The sun was low in the sky over the mountains of Cyprus as the open jeep jolted along the dirt road towards the British military base at Akrotiri, its wheels jarring in potholes and ditches and spinning dust and gravel into the air. The metal bench seat slammed into Essie’s rear as she tried and failed to ignore the bare-faced ogling of the two young soldiers sitting opposite her who were transfixed by the movement of her breasts beneath her clothes each time the vehicle moved. It seemed the heavy-duty khaki military canvas shirt she’d buttoned to beneath her chin in an attempt to draw less attention to herself did nothing to discourage the ardour of the two men, who were barely out of adolescence.
The Emerald Tablet Page 17
