The Porus Legacy

by Daniel Leston

  Nonetheless, he was grateful for the man’s gross incompetence.

  He watched a white Citroen now pull up across the street, confirming his man Lahib’s punctuality. Moments later, Haleem buzzed him access into the building via the intercom and unlatched his apartment door.

  After giving the package and envelope to Lahib, he then carefully restated his explicit instructions, confidant there was more than adequate time to do so. Another hour would pass before the blue van again took up its station. By then Lahib would be long gone.

  “Don’t be tempted by any available spaces outside the Cairo Museum’s entrance,” he cautioned. “Drive around to the west side of the building and park in the gated lot reserved for employees. I confirmed this with Prof. Bayoumi earlier this morning. You won’t be hassled. As Director of Antiquities, he’s already notified the security guards of your imminent arrival. One of them will accompany you directly up to Bayoumi’s private office where he’ll be waiting to receive this. And remember, you must deliver it only to him. No other.”

  His man nodded.

  “And the sooner you do so, Lahib, the better. Bayoumi will be taking the late night Rapide to Alexandria to meet with Prof. Manning sometime tomorrow, so he’s quite willing to pass it along to his old friend as promised.”

  “Unopened?”

  “I’m reasonably confident, yes. From what I’ve learned about Bayoumi, he and Manning share a great many character traits. Both are honorable men when it comes to keeping their given word.” Haleem paused, a smile returning to his lined face. “I’m much looking forward to reacquainting myself with Prof. Manning. And all very soon now. Since his last visit to Egypt well over a decade ago, I admit I’ve been following his career with continuing fascination.”

  Lahib seemed confused.

  “Soon? You think he intends coming here to Cairo?”

  “Oh, definitely!” chuckled Haleem. “At most, I figure sometime within the next two or three days.” His eyes flicked a last time at the package, his smile expanding into a grin. “Manning just doesn’t know it yet.”

  * * * *

  Following a solid ping tone from the intercom speaker, the voice of the senior pilot of the sleek Cessna Citation CJ4 executive jet advised the plane’s only two passengers that they were now approaching Egyptian controlled airspace and would shortly begin the descent from their assigned cruising altitude of 39,000 feet. Their planned arrival at Alexandria’s Borg El Arab Airport appeared right on schedule.

  Elizabeth pressed the corresponding button on her console.

  “Thanks, Donald. Best guess time-wise?”

  “Another thirty minutes, give or take, depending on their air traffic congestion. Our onboard radar display isn’t showing all that many incoming hits, so we should put down at approximately 4:10pm local time. Of course this could change fairly quickly. So far we haven’t been informed of any projected landing delays.”

  “Still a possibility though?”

  “Afraid so. With old Alexandria International completely closed for major alterations, literally everything has been funneled through Borg El Arab for the past two years. The airport is top-notch and certainly designed to handle the load, but I imagine it’s a daily strain on their ATC people.”

  “I see. Anything more on the weather?”

  “They’re still showing clear skies with a current ground temperature of only 21 degrees Celsius, which is actually not a bad reading considering September’s normal heat levels.”

  Elizabeth agreed, thanking him again before she clicked off. This done, she raised her thick-cushioned seat to its full upright position, and said, “I suppose we should prepare and buckle up, don’t you think?” When David didn’t immediately respond, she looked into his smiling face and eyed him curiously.

  “What?” she asked

  Seated beside her, David shook his head in amusement.

  “Jumping the gun isn’t going to speed things along any, hon,” he said. “You heard him. We’ve got at least another thirty minutes. If he’s capable enough to pilot DeCaylus Corp’s newest acquisition, then I’m reasonably certain we can trust him to alert us in ample time for landing.”

  She took the criticism with the good humor it was intended and clasped his offered hand. “Think I’m sounding a just tad over-eager to get our vacation underway?”

  He gave her fingers a light squeeze.

  “Perhaps, a little. However, I do think you’re showing symptoms of being overtired. You need to settle down a few notches and start enjoying this.”

  “Is it obvious?”

  “Only to me.”

  “What gave it away?”

  “Well, for one thing you took a short nap after we left Boston—but I haven’t seen you sleep ten minutes since we refueled in the UK. Really not like you.”

  “That’s true,” she sighed. “Do you have a solution?”

  “Don’t I always?”

  In actuality, he did. He’d been envisioning a particular scenario for some time now, waiting only for the right opportunity. Leaning to her, he lowered his voice and planted a light kiss on her brow.

  “We aren’t scheduled to meet with Bayoumi and Rashidi until late tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “With this in mind, I figure once we get checked into the Hilton Alexandria Corniche you could begin by luxuriating to your heart’s content in our suite’s oversized Jacuzzi.” He hesitated only briefly. “Sound appealing so far?”

  He saw her warming to the idea.

  “It does,” she admitted. “And just where will you be while I’m—?”

  “Right beside you, of course.”

  “Hmmm . . . sounding even better.”

  He lifted her hand, brushing her slim fingers to his lips.

  “Afterward,” he added, his voice now scarcely above a whisper, “rather than dress and go out for dinner, I suggest we commemorate our long overdue return to Egypt by ordering up a meal from the Hilton’s best restaurant—La Gourmandise, I believe its called—along with a chilled bottle of their very finest French champagne.”

  He allowed sufficient time for this romantic scene to unfold, knowing full well she thought of this trip as the honeymoon they’d never really had after their marriage thirteen years ago. And what better country to revisit? After all, it was in Egypt where they first fell in love, where their son Jake was conceived.

  “How do you like my plan so far?”

  “Well, you definitely do paint an enticing picture.” A faint, pink flush now colored her cheeks. “Is there more?” she asked coyly. “Then what?”

  Seeing this, David affected a lecherous grin that drew an instant laugh.

  “Need you even ask, my dear? Why—once I have you sufficiently plied with alcohol and rich food—I then anticipate our retiring straightaway to the bedroom where I sincerely hope the real celebration can begin.”

  “David—!”

  Twenty minutes later, Elizabeth was still giggling in mirth as the jet touched down at Borg El Arab Airport.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Alexandria Hilton Corniche.

  Being a habitual early riser, David was already shaved and through the shower as dawn broke across the eastern Mediterranean. While he did so, his conscious attempt not to disturb Elizabeth proved unnecessary, for a final glance at her slumbering figure told him she remained oblivious to his activity. Still deep in sleep, her long, copper-hued hair lay enticingly across the pillows, her striking features a momentary temptation for him to perhaps return to bed. Yet he knew what she most needed was several more hours of uninterrupted rest—thus he put on one of the hotel’s comfortable bathrobes and eased the bedroom door shut behind him. They both had a busy afternoon ahead. Best she awakens on her own timetable.

  By his wristwatch it was just 5:32.

  His next priority was a requisite cup of coffee.

  Suspecting it was too early for room service, and disinclined to wait, he set up the in-room coffee maker, reducing the volume of water to insure a stronger br
ew than the machine recommended. Once the green light snapped on, he poured a full cup and carried it out onto the suite’s spacious balcony.

  As expected, the panoramic view was nothing short of spectacular.

  Considerable time had elapsed since their last visit to Alexandria, and he’d almost forgotten the distinctive visual appeal of Egypt’s second largest and most cosmopolitan city. Due to the early hour, the wide, palm-lined boulevard far below bore little morning traffic. This would rapidly change as the new day grew, of course, but for now he sat and enjoyed the relative silence, watching as the sun’s first rays reflected varying shades of reddish gold across the empty beaches and dark sea beyond.

  It saddened him to think how fast the years had slipped by since he and Elizabeth were last here. The fault—if so it could be called—wasn’t entirely his. Certainly not intentional, anyway. It was the continuing passage of random daily events that dictated such things, none of which were always manageable—and not wholly predictable. As the old saying went, if you want to make God laugh, tell Him what you’re going to be doing tomorrow.

  At forty-eight, David was just over six feet in height with strong, angular features still capable of holding people’s attention. Always an active man, retaining his former athletic build hadn’t yet become a problem, though recent streaks of gray were now becoming evident in his otherwise thick, dark hair. It was primarily noticeable at his temples and short sideburns. Not that it concerned him one way or another. His natural indifference regarding any age considerations was such that he gave this encroachment no real thought. His general philosophy was life brought what it brought. How it was tackled fell to individual choice.

  Though one might not guess it to look at him, David was now inarguably the best-known working archaeologist in the entire world—an unsought status that he actually hated and would gladly pay almost any price to alter. As someone who abhorred limelight in any form, he felt the unwanted attention of this recent attribution was an annoying impediment to regaining the privacy he once enjoyed in his personal life. Nevertheless, he likewise understood this was the inevitable price one paid for the three spectacular successes he’d achieved over the span of only the past thirteen years—each of which would be considered so remarkable in-and-by itself as to be a crowning highlight of anyone’s career.

  But public recognition for these achievements wasn’t what he sought.

  Quite the contrary.

  It all began with his locating the actual jewel-encrusted sarcophagus and body of no less a figure than Alexander the Great concealed for two millennium in Egypt’s vast western desert—a stunning accomplishment that drew instant international attention. Fortunately for him, the actual events leading up to this were such that he was reasonably successful in deflecting much of this unwanted publicity away from himself and onto the participation of others. Ultimately, it was the Egyptian authorities that provided him the opportunity to do so, for they were caught in a ‘catch-22’ situation of their own creation. To fully divulge all the details of the complicated series of events preceding the discovery, they would, out of pure necessity, been forced to make a great many awkward disclosures to the public at large, everything from unexplained murders to the black-marketing of ancient antiquities throughout Europe—and not the least of these disturbing revelations was the existence of a long-functioning Amun priesthood layered deep within its own internal offices.

  Now how embarrassing would that prove to be!

  This wasn’t something the Egyptian government was yet prepared to do.

  The second of David’s phenomenal successes followed six years later when a chance find made by his young son, Jake, eventually led him and Elizabeth to distant Ulan Bator in Mongolia. Working in secret with a desperate Mongolian president, they were instrumental in discovering a cavernous burial chamber high in the Khentai mountain range. Hidden away for eight centuries, the mammoth tomb was bordered by a nervous Russian Republic to the north and an expansionist China to the east.

  Its contents shocked the world.

  Not only did it contain the body of fabled Genghis Khan, but also eleven of his direct royal descendants. Due to the precarious diplomatic strain existing between small Mongolia and its aggressive Chinese neighbor, David was once again able to preserve much of his anonymity. The Mongolian government’s gratitude for his contribution was such that they acquiesced to his wishes. The actual truth of his direct involvement was again kept to a minimum, relegated to the realm of unsubstantiated rumor and pure media speculation. This was also further blurred by his refusal to give interviews on either subject.

  Though this frustrated and puzzled a large segment of the media, his position remained firm. Self-promotion in any form was never a goal. For him it was quite enough that the discoveries occurred. The how and why of them were of secondary importance.

  Despite all his best efforts, however, his continuing desire for relative anonymity fell apart two years ago with the his third success—and it did so in dramatic fashion. Such were the repercussions of its magnitude that it placed him in the direct glare of the public spotlight for much longer than he cared to remember.

  It began innocent enough, a personal favor for an old friend.

  While looking into the brutal murder of his elderly protégé’s grandson in west Texas, he unintentionally found himself caught up in a deadly attempt to plunder what amounted to be an enormous horde of Aztec gold, a treasure of incalculable value considered a myth for the past five centuries. Due to his direct connection to the violent deaths of the major perpetrators—not the least of whom was a Mexican multi-millionaire holding diplomat immunity—the entire affair rapidly escalated into one of both national and international dimensions. David had almost lost count of the number of times he’d been forced to give depositions and court testimony to defend his own involvement, all covered in minutest detail by frenzied news organizations from around the world. Though it was eventually resolved, this served to revive all the old rumors regarding his earlier activities in Egypt and Mongolia, becoming yet more fodder for eager investigators to explore. The intensity of this scrutiny relegated to the wayside any hope he had of maintaining a modicum of personal privacy.

  For him this was little short of a disaster.

  Even now, scarcely a week passed but he wasn’t again approached by one media outlet or another to grant interviews, all of which he still steadfastly declined. Because of their collective mind-set, it was something reporters found not just baffling, but quite inexplicable on several levels. Was it perhaps he didn’t fully appreciate the financial gain to be had by indulging them? Book deals, magazine articles, and endless lucrative lecture tours! Surely his future status would be set for life! So why in hell, they wondered, would any sane man dismiss this incredible opportunity, foregoing everlasting fame?

  Yet David refused to waiver. The prospect of unsolicited acclaim was alien to his personality, never once entering into his thinking as a dedicated archaeologist. Nor did he have any financial need to do so, for he was reasonably well off in his own right. Also, the simple fact of the matter was that Elizabeth was one of the wealthiest women in New England. As the sole owner of DeCaylus Corp, a multi-million dollar company inherited from her late father with diverse holdings around the world, she and David were entirely satisfied in a quiet lifestyle requiring no unsought distractions.

  As always, the main focus of their lives continued to be the welfare of their young son, Jake. In part it was because of his recent settling into a top-rated high school in Boston that provided them the opportunity to finally seek an open-ended vacation of rest and relaxation. After the hectic events of the past few years, God knew, it was deserved. Also, they anticipated the opportunity to reacquaint themselves with Ahmed Rashidi and Omar Bayoumi, the two men who played such significant roles in their previous Egyptian exploit.

  That was scheduled to take place much later in the afternoon.

  As the sun strengthened and the volume of street tr
affic increased, David went back inside and ordered up a hearty breakfast for himself. It was only 7:20, still far too early to even contemplate disturbing Elizabeth. Today promised to be a special day for both of them.

  He’d no forewarning as to exactly how special it would become.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It’s what I feared, sir,” apologized the taxi driver as he pulled up outside the shining edifice located seven miles northeast of the Hilton. A growing stream of tourists was leaving, migrating out toward a fleet of waiting buses and empty cabs. “I suspected it closed early on Fridays, but wasn’t entirely certain.”

  The young man then looked hopefully at the couple in his rear mirror.

  “If there’s perhaps someplace else I can—”

  “No, this will do fine,” replied David, glancing at his wrist. It was 4:50pm, ten minutes before what he already knew to be the official closing. If anything, they were spot on time. As they got out and paid the fair, he again reassured the confused driver. “It’s okay, we’re expected.”

  Pleased with his tip, the man then maneuvered his vehicle around to the end of the cab-line, doubtless seeking passengers of equal generosity.

  David led Elizabeth up the wide steps toward the main entrance, guiding her against the flow of departing people. Not surprising, the ethnic mix of the crowd ran the full gamut of nationalities, a slight edge perhaps going to Europeans. If what he understood was true, ever since its official opening four years ago the acclaimed Alexander exhibit never failed to attract an incredible volume of daily visitors from around the entire the world.

  And well it should.

  Its contents were nothing short of astounding.