by Peter Tonkin
Richard ran down the stairs so quickly that he caught up with Sasha, who seemed to be glad of his company as they walked down the last few steps to the ground floor. Sergeant Sabet, dressed in the spotless white uniform and headdress that was becoming all too familiar to him, was waiting for Richard in the reception hall, and opened her mouth as soon as she saw him. But he spoke before she could get a word out.
‘So,’ he said, ‘Nahom has disappeared again.’ His tone was carefully balanced. There was simple enquiry. No accusation of police inefficiency.
‘The hospital contacted us this morning,’ she said flatly. ‘They said he had made an impressive recovery and so he could be transferred to our care. They put him in an ambulance and sent it to El Benouk Road. But it never arrived. We found it in the Old Town near the market. There was no sign of the driver or the orderly accompanying the patient.’
‘The guard?’
‘There was no guard. They had all returned to base. We believed Selassie was too weak to escape unaided and we needed men to help with the others at El Benouk Road.’
Richard raised an eyebrow but made no comment.
In the brief moment of silence, the bustle throughout the villa established the speed and efficiency with which Sabet’s colleagues were searching. ‘What makes you think he’s here?’
‘It’s where he came before. I’m not accusing you or Captain Mrs Mariner of helping him. But last time he ran he came here to steal supplies. Maybe he will do so again.’
‘You’re right. That’s a good point. May I offer you a cup of coffee or tea while your men search?’
‘Thank you, no.’
At that point Robin arrived. Like Richard, she was dressed in light, casual clothes, and looked to have brushed her hair with her fingers. ‘They’re going through the bedroom now,’ she said.
‘What? Do they think he’s hiding under the bed?’ asked Richard, amused at the thought.
‘Heaven knows,’ said Robin. ‘Is there any tea going?’
‘I expect Sharl will have some on the go. I mean, the whole house is up and about now,’ said Richard, still amused. ‘Go and check in the kitchen. I’ll stay here with the sergeant.’
Robin vanished.
‘What do you think he’s planning to do?’ Richard asked. ‘Major Ibrahim has his phone and his money. Short of wandering into the middle of the desert and shouting her name, he’s never going to find her. And even if he does, how’s he going to buy her freedom?’
Sergeant Sabet was still shaking her head when the officer searching their room came down the stairs, clutching something that he handed over to her, speaking in impenetrable Egyptian as he did so. It was at this point that Richard noticed they were both wearing latex gloves. ‘Hey,’ he said as Sabet took what the officer gave her and the policeman fell silent. ‘That’s my wallet.’
‘When did you last use it?’
‘A couple of days ago. I used it to set up payment for Nahom in the hospital on the first occasion he was taken in. That was the last time.’
‘Where do you normally keep it?’ asked Sabet.
‘In the drawer of my bedside table,’ he answered.
‘Not a particularly secure location, I’m afraid. It was found under the bed, up against the wall,’ she said as she opened it.
And as she did so, Richard could see that it was empty.
All his credit cards were gone.
‘It has to be Nahom,’ Richard said to Robin a few minutes later. ‘I don’t know whether to laugh or cry! Light-fingered little sod!’
‘Be fair, he was desperate,’ said Robin soothingly. ‘He probably found the wallet when he was searching for his money belt, before he was reduced to waking you and asking for it, and took the cards for insurance. Then he woke you up, and you got the belt for him but he still hung on to them just in case. Remember you didn’t realize he’d rifled the kitchen till the next morning either!’
This conversation was happening in the villa’s study as Richard waited to get through to Sentinel on the phone so that he could cancel all his cards while Sergeant Sabet went to report the latest news to Major Ibrahim.
‘Anyway,’ Robin added bracingly, ‘he can’t do much without the PIN numbers, can he? And he won’t have those.’
‘No,’ said Richard grimly. ‘But Doctor Zabr needed the PIN for the AmEx to set things up in the hospital. If the orderly who’s vanished with Nahom got sight of it as I keyed it in, then we might be in trouble, because I’d say it was a fair bet that the ward orderly who was so happy to show me to the finance office and the driver who has vanished with him are working for the smugglers, so if they are following any kind of a plan, getting the PIN might well have become part of it. Like Saiid said last night at dinner, these smugglers are tech savvy. If there’s a scam with a card they’ll likely know about it.’
‘What’s the limit on the AmEx again?’ she enquired.
‘It’s the Heritage Mariner roving business account so it’s one hundred thousand dollars.’
‘Insured …’
‘Against all eventualities. With Lloyds of London, the same as the Heritage Mariner fleet.’
‘That’s a relief.’
‘I’d still like to get it back and have a word or two with young mister Selassie.’
‘I bet you would! Thank heaven I’ve still got the holiday emergency account card we took out with us last night in case I saw anything irresistible in the market. That has a limit of ten thousand pounds sterling, so we won’t starve in the meantime.’
‘We wouldn’t in any case. I can get funds wired to the HSBC bank up in Naama Bay. In fact, I’ll do that as soon as I’ve finished here … Hello? Hello, Sentinel? This is Richard Mariner of Heritage Mariner here. I’d like you to put a stop on all my credit and debit cards please. Yes, they’ve been stolen. Yes, I have reported it to the local police. Of course. The third letter of my security code word is …’
Little more than an hour later, Richard stepped out of the lift at the foot of the villa’s private cliff and turned sharp right towards the private marina and Katerina. There was a spring in his step that came from the uplifting feeling that he had dealt swiftly and efficiently with a potentially nasty situation. All his card accounts were closed – but there had not been time to do a forensic check on whether any cash had vanished from them under suspicious circumstances, though it was going to be a tricky job by the look of things to differentiate between the legitimate charges from the hospital and anything else paid out in Sharm and its environs. An effectively limitless line of credit had been opened at the HSBC bank on Malek al Bahrein in Naama Bay, and Robin was on her way over in the Mercedes to complete the necessary paperwork on the promise that new cards would be couriered over to the Villa Shahrazad at the earliest opportunity.
As Richard jumped aboard Katerina, Husan came out of the bridge and ran down the exterior companionways to meet him. They stood side by side on the deck for an instant, shaking hands in the full blaze of the sun. Then went through into the shaded lower cabin and Husan poured cold drinks while they talked. Richard briefly explained the situation both with regard to Nahom’s second disappearance – possibly with a couple of companions this time – and his missing credit cards. ‘I’m going after him,’ he said in conclusion. ‘Do you think Saiid would be willing to help?’
‘After him?’ Husan probed, Richard’s earlier promise unspoken between them.
‘Him, not her. I’ve no intention of breaking my word to you, Husan. But you must admit, things are different now.’
‘In several ways.’ The captain nodded. He took a reflective sip of his Pepsi Max. ‘If Nahom has used your cards already, then he is likely to be carrying a large amount of your money. What is the limit on your AmEx – the one you’re worried about?’
‘One hundred thousand dollars.’
‘A day?’
‘It’s a business card. A Centurion. I’ve been using it at home and abroad for years. That’s the upper limit. I’ve bee
n on to Sentinel and closed all the card accounts, of course.’
‘But he’s had it how many days?’
‘Four, by my count. But I really don’t think he’d have used it until Major Ibrahim confiscated his money belt. He may not even have had a chance to use it since, depending on who he’s with and where they’re taking him.’
‘If he has used it, then he will probably be safe enough if whoever is with him wants to take him to the others. In the Wilderness of Sin or wherever. On the other hand, if he hasn’t used it yet then he and his sister are, of course, dead.’
Richard sat for a moment, stunned into silence by the simple truth that Husan had stated. He had acted on automatic pilot, without thinking about the implications of his actions. Of course, Husan was right. If Nahom hadn’t got the money already then the moment he put any of the cards into an ATM the machine would refuse payment and would in all likelihood confiscate the plastic altogether. His call to Sentinel had quite possibly signed the death warrants of both twins. And, from what Nahom had told and shown Ibrahim, Sabet and Richard himself in his second hospital room, neither of the twins would have an easy or a quiet death.
‘I’ve got to find him, or do my level best at least!’ he said. ‘Christ, what a mess! Do you think Saiid would help?’
‘We can only ask. I’ll get him on my cell phone now.’
Saiid’s battered, white-painted long wheelbase Land Rover Defender sat in the drive outside Villa Shahrazad as Richard, Sharl and Sasha carried out the last of the equipment and provisions Saiid suggested they might need – mostly water. There was a fridge in the back that ran off the battery power. Richard packed as much water into this as he could. It was still mid-morning and the sun had yet to attain its full fierceness. The shamaal had died and the day was calm, almost breathless. ‘What I propose is this,’ said Saiid as Richard stepped down out of the back and swung the door shut behind him. The Bedouin guide leaned forward across the big, square bonnet, pushing the end of his red-squared keffiyeh back over one shoulder and smoothing a map on to the cool metal as he did so. ‘If I was correct in my suppositions over dinner yesterday evening, then they will be in the Wilderness of Sin. Nahom and whoever is with him will almost certainly be driving up the west coast road towards El Tur and Abu Zenima, where they will turn east and go into the mountains either on the road that crosses the whole peninsula to Dahab, or they will be trying the northern road here that stops in the mountains at Bir Nasib. What will happen then, either way I would suggest, is that they will leave their transport in the hands of the driver, go on foot to contact the others and either relieve Nahom of the money he took from your account before you closed it, or they will try to use an ATM at Ain Akhdar and find the cards are worthless. We could follow them, but we would need to be very fortunate indeed to catch them. Especially as I noticed when I drove in that Major Ibrahim is keeping a close eye on you. There is a police car parked immediately outside the gate. If we headed off towards El Tur, that would ring alarm bells and he might even stop us and search us – something I would prefer did not happen. His suspicions would be aroused primarily because there is little at El Tur to attract a legitimate tourist. There are reefs for diving – but if you were visiting them you would take Katerina, not the Land Rover.
‘But look. Here is an alternative, which at least has a tincture of legitimacy about it. If we go east and take the coast road up past Dahab, then we can swing west on to the road that runs across to El Tur. That road is there because tourists in their thousands visit the Monastery of Saint Catherine here. And, if Ibrahim or his men ask, that is what we will say we are doing. But see, if we keep going west, the road goes over the watershed here at the Wadia Pass, then runs down into the Wadi Feiran. The Wilderness of Sin will therefore be below us, on our right hands, to the north. There are tracks and pathways running down into it that the Land Rover might just be able to handle. Approaching from that direction might well allow us a broad view of the wilderness. And anyone coming northward and eastward could well run straight into us.’
‘That’s all very well,’ said Richard. ‘But how long will it take us to do all that?’
‘If we leave now we will be in Dahab before noon; at Saint Catherine by early afternoon and in the Wilderness of Sin perhaps an hour later still. If we have found no sign by the time we begin to lose the light – which happens later there, of course, because it is on a high, west-facing slope – we will come back down on to the road north of El Tur here and be back in Sharm an hour or so later, just in time for dinner. And at dinner we will plan tomorrow’s exploration. Perhaps to Gebel Musa, the Mountain of Moses – Mount Sinai itself – or perhaps up as far as Nekhel, at the heart of the Sinai. Always passing through places where men such as those we seek can most often be found.’
‘Right,’ said Richard. ‘That all sounds good. Just let me pick up one or two last things and say goodbye to Robin, then I’ll be with you.’
As he spoke, he turned and ran back into the villa. Robin was all alone in Sasha’s office, looking out across the flower beds to the Land Rover parked on the drive. Richard was still in the light linen trousers and white cotton shirt he had put on to greet Sergeant Sabet earlier. But he had swapped his sandals for high-sided desert boots and he now took the sleeveless fishing jacket Robin was holding for him. Its pockets were filled with necessaries such as ID papers, visas, sunglasses, cell phone, wallet – filled with a bundle of dollars, some Egyptian pounds and one of her cards – sun-block and so forth. He swung it on, then took the blue-checked keffiyeh scarf she held out next. Folding it swiftly and expertly, he slipped it over his head and secured it. Then he leaned down and hugged her. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘We have this all planned. It’ll be like something between Beau Geste and Lawrence of Arabia.’ He felt her begin to turn her face up for a farewell kiss, but then she stiffened. ‘Look!’ she whispered in his ear. ‘More like Bruce Willis than Beau Geste, I’d say.’
He swung round and looked where she was pointing. The office window gave a clear view of the Land Rover and the three men clustered round it – Saiid and the two other men who would accompany Richard on his search, Ahmed the dive master and Mahmood, Husan’s lieutenant. Unaware that they were being watched, they were busily packing stuff into a compartment under the bench seat across the rear of the vehicle. He couldn’t be absolutely certain, but he was a bit of a boy toy buff. It looked to him as though Mahmood was just putting a British Enfield SA-80 assault rifle safely out of sight. Ahmed was waiting to conceal his Turkish MKEK MPT-76 Mehmetçik-2 automatic, while Saiid was holding out an Israeli 7.62 Galil ACE model 32 and waiting for Mahmood to take that and hide it with the others; an armoury that showed how sensible Robin’s decision to stay here had been.
Richard looked down at Robin’s pale face and grinned. ‘That’s a relief,’ he said. ‘I was worried we were going to have to go up against these people armed with nothing but our natural charm and a winning smile.’
SIX
Sin
Richard had never experienced anything quite like the weight of the noonday sun in the high gebels – the mountains above St Catherine and Sin. Glad of the keffiyeh covering his head and the sleeveless gilet on his shoulders that protected him against the burning load of the heat, he stood in what little shade the Land Rover offered. Outside that blessed pool of relative coolness, the heat radiating up from the rocky ground hurt the bottoms of his feet even through the thick crepe soles of his desert boots, just as the sun’s rays roasted the top of his head, his shoulders and the backs of his hands. Every time he touched the Defender’s bodywork, he was grateful for the fact that it was painted white. Had it been any colour other than cool, reflective white, he would have blistered whichever piece of skin rubbed up against it.
On the other hand, he had to be careful when he handled the burning black barrels of Saiid’s incredibly powerful Zeiss Victory 8 X42 T*FL binoculars as he pointed them down towards the monastery that looked more like a medieval for
tress than a place of worship. Somehow he had expected it to be on one of the mountain peaks nearby – a high defensive position, like a real crusader castle. Nearer to heaven into the bargain. But it was down on a valley floor. On the bed of a wide, dry wadi, in fact. Which, now that he thought about it, was logical. The place had been built around a bush. It had been constructed especially to protect the bush and to give hardy anchorites a place in which they could worship the deity who placed the bush there, made it appear to burn, and changed the life of the prophet Musa and indeed the history of his people because of it. So it was logical enough that the bush – which still miraculously flourished there – should grow right down on the bed of the apparently dry wadi, pushing its thirsty roots into the water table hidden metres beneath the burning desert. It was that kind of thinking, after all, which allowed the men they were hunting to follow the hidden pathways on the far side of the high pass of the watershed, down in the Wilderness of Sin.
But, to be fair, Richard thought, a certain amount of human interference was involved in the divine protection of the undying holy bramble bush, for there were all sorts of plants and even trees growing around the imposing red walls of the monastery, and they had clearly been irrigated. Their primary purpose seemed to be to offer brief but welcome shade to the congregations of pilgrims wandering, awestruck, through the oldest continuously functioning place of worship in the Christian world. He found himself just as awestruck as the pilgrims. However, he was considering not the monastery or its plant-life, but the colossal desolation of the sharp-peaked, red-flanked mountains with which the place was surrounded, their rough slopes seemingly clawed by gargantuan ancestors of the wild leopards that once roamed the place.
