by Tom Hunter
“I don’t know,” responded Akhenaton. “It seems to me that the good Lord never intended for us to use our hands in this deceitful manner.”
“What’s deceitful about it?” Shafira could see in her mind’s eye the look of feigned innocence that would be on Waleed’s face. “These are mere parlor tricks, party games to impress the ladies. Trust me–women flip when they see you produce their card from their purse. They practically throw themselves at you, demanding you take them there and then.”
“My vows would preclude me from taking advantage of such an offer,” Akhenaton reminded him.
“That’s a pity,” sighed Waleed. “Think of the fun you could be having. Still, it’s always worth your while mastering these techniques. Given everything we’ve been through over the past few weeks, you never know when they might come in useful. Now try again, and this time, don’t let me see you hide my card.”
“Like this you mean?”
Shafira laughed softly, shaking her head as she left the two men to their games and continued down the hall. Samuel had gathered around him a most unusual selection of men, people who were unlikely to work together in the normal course of events, yet somehow their team cooperated well. The combination of their various skills had saved them on more than one occasion. They might have lost the papal cap, but at least they had the scepter and it wouldn’t be long before they would be in a position to go and find St. Augustine’s ancestors, wherever they may be.
That was why it was so important that she talk to Samuel now. Unlikely though it might have seemed at times, they all had a not-too-distant future to plan for once this was all done, and if she didn’t let him know how she was feeling now, he might disappear before she had a chance to tell him.
Standing outside Samuel’s room, she raised her hand to knock on the door, then dropped it again, as she tried to figure out the best way to persuade Samuel to take her on as an assistant.
Hi, Samuel. I’ve noticed how you’re a bit of a slob, so I was thinking I could keep your papers organized for you. She shook her head. No, no. I’m not trying to be his maid. Hey! Samuel! I know I don’t have any archaeology training and my experience is pretty much non-existent, but I think we make a good team and I’d like to come on your next dig with you. Of course. That’ll work. Because nothing says ‘hire me’ like emphasizing the fact that I have absolutely no skills to offer.
Before she could come up with another proposition, the door suddenly swung open, putting an end to her attempts to prepare herself.
Six
“Samuel,” beamed Shafira. “I have a proposition for you that you can’t ignore…”
“Is that right?” Josh raised an eyebrow. “I think you might have the wrong guy.”
He stepped aside and Shafira could see that Samuel was sitting at a table with a bottle of wine standing in the middle of it alongside two half-full glasses.
“Speak of the devil,” smiled Samuel. “Come on in, Shafira. We’d love it if you joined us.”
Josh threw a sharp look at Samuel, but said nothing.
All the bravado Shafira had built up evaporated at the sight of Josh in the room. He hadn’t exactly been quiet about his disapproval of Yusuf’s life choices and his praise for Shafira in following a safer path. He still didn’t seem to have recovered from the trauma of her being captured by the Bruard. If anything, he seemed more upset than she was by the experience. If he heard her telling Samuel that she wanted to pursue a life of adventure and go exploring with him, she didn’t like to think what his reaction might be.
Samuel beckoned her to come in, and Shafira strode into the room.
“So what was this proposition you were talking about?” asked Josh.
For a moment, Shafira felt like a deer in the headlights. There was no way she could talk about the future now.
“I propose that I…” Spying the wine bottle, she snatched it up. “Take this wine and you can have my breakfast biscuit in exchange. Goodnight, gentlemen!”
She fled with her prize, as Samuel and Josh exchanged bemused looks.
“What the heck was that all about?” asked Josh, scratching his head.
“I have no idea,” laughed Samuel. “Women!”
Back in her room, Shafira slammed the door, resting against it as she took a few deep breaths. Lifting up the bottle of wine, she unscrewed the lid and took a large mouthful.
“Ugh!” She winced, and shook her head. “How can people drink this slosh?” She’d forgotten just how much she hated the taste of alcohol. The last time she’d drunk had been at a college party, and although she’d hardly been tipsy when she’d arrived home, the argument with her parents when they smelled the alcohol on her breath had been enough to put her off drinking until now.
“In your face, mom and dad,” she muttered, taking another swig of the wine, forcing it down despite the taste.
The alcohol went straight to her head, and she could feel herself becoming fuzzy already. Half a bottle might not be enough to take her into oblivion, but it would at least take the edge off the mess her life was rapidly becoming.
For now.
Seven
Pin and Pae were sitting around a table in Pin’s private garden, a holographic map laid out between them. Pae delicately sipped at his cup of chai tea, the epitome of relaxation. In contrast, Pin was quickly tapping his foot, belying his impatience at the dictator’s leisurely approach to planning. Large dark circles beneath his eyes told of sleepless nights, his mind refusing to let him unwind in his obsession with recovering the final two artifacts and getting revenge on Samuel McCarthy.
“Remind me again where this archaeologist is presumed to be at the moment,” ordered Pae.
“Our intelligence suggests that they touched down in this area,” Pin told him. “Given that they are most likely to have headed towards Carthage, and they were on foot, he will be somewhere within this zone.”
He touched a finger to the map, leaving behind a blue line as he marked out Samuel’s potential location.
“Then, of course, he’ll be heading towards Dougga, which means that he’s most likely to be going over here.” This time, Pin’s finger left a red mark to trace out Samuel’s possible route.
“I think you’re right,” nodded Pae. “Given all this, I would advise that, in addition to our plan of sending the military northward to Raf Raf, we also send agents directly to the region with explicit instructions to find and engage McCarthy. Let’s eliminate the annoying mosquito like the bug he is.”
“We should definitely capture Samuel if at all possible,” Pin agreed. “However, I would also recommend that we have eyes on him at all time in case by some miracle he continues to elude us.”
“Hmm.” Pae frowned. “My best spies in the region are otherwise engaged on essential business. I wonder if perhaps Valentina would be the optimal choice for watcher. After all, she has a personal motivation which would make her more dedicated than most. I don’t doubt that she’ll keep McCarthy in her sights at all times.”
Pin rubbed his chin. “She is certainly talented in that direction,” he conceded. “However, I have concerns that she will be so obsessed with her hatred for Waleed that it will blind her to the big picture, causing her to make a stupid mistake. She will be focused on him, not Samuel, which could be problematic. Then, of course, there is the added complication in that I don’t entirely trust her not to try and take the artifact for herself so she can sell it to the highest bidder—which could potentially be one of our enemies. Her recent work has been costly to both her bank balance and reputation. I wouldn’t put it past her to try and compensate herself for her losses.”
“Doesn’t that somewhat beg the question of why you would recruit someone you don’t trust?” queried Pae.
Pin shrugged, a self-satisfied smirk playing at his lips. “As you say, she is talented in her particular specialties, and I have ways of forcing her obedience if it really comes to it. However, I’d rather focus on the task at hand and worry
about her if she genuinely becomes a problem.”
“So it is agreed, then?” asked Pae. “We shall task Valentina with tailing Samuel once we’ve discovered his precise location, and it won’t be long before the remaining two Augustinian artifacts are in our possession.”
“My congratulations, Glorious Leader.” Pin bowed his head at Pae. “Your ascension to world ruler is drawing nigh. Soon all will bow before you and accord you the respect you deserve.”
His head lowered, Pae couldn’t see the wicked grin on Pin’s face at the thought of who would be the true power behind the throne.
Eight
The dining room in the inn where the adventurers were staying was lit with the warm orange glow of the freshly risen sun. Birds were singing a welcome to the new day, which couldn’t have been more idyllic. For the tourists staying in the guest house, it was just another beautiful vacation morning.
Basile was almost alone in the dining room, one of a tiny handful of guests who were ready for an early start. Having showered before he got dressed, there was no sign of the jollity of the night before, and he didn’t appear to have been struck down by a hangover.
He flicked through the pages of a local paper as he waited for his breakfast to arrive. Although he was fluent in a number of languages, Arabic wasn’t one of them, so he had to guess at the news stories by looking at the photos. He amused himself by coming up with humorous captions for serious photos.
“World leader discovers fatberg developing in his private toilet… Says he had no idea that pizza could be so greasy. German Chancellor rolls eyes so heavily at American leader, one of them falls out. British Prime Minister demonstrates distinct lack of curtseying ability… Says it’s not his fault no one taught him at finishing school.”
A gentle hum announced the arrival of the serving drone with his food. Basile unloaded the robot, laying out a sumptuous continental breakfast with freshly baked pastries, sliced meats and cheese, a selection of fruit, and, of course, a perfectly sweetened cup of coffee made to his precise specifications.
Holding the cup under his nose, Basile inhaled deeply, smiling as the aroma hit his senses. He took a sip, closing his eyes to savor the taste.
Much as he adored his American friends, they would never truly appreciate cuisine the way a Frenchman did.
Setting the coffee to one side, he picked up a pastry. Just as he was about to take a bite, the door to the inn slammed open. A Tunisian soldier walked in, glancing about the room before going towards the entrance to the cooking area to attract the attention of one of the human staff working there.
“Hi Karim.” A cook came out, wiping her hands on her apron. “We don’t usually see you here when you’re on duty. Is anything wrong?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” replied the soldier curtly. “Although if you buy me a drink after my shift is over, then maybe I might be persuaded to fill you in a little.”
The cook rolled her eyes, shaking her head good naturedly. “Nice try,” she said. “But you know very well my boyfriend would have an issue with that. So either state your business or get out and stop disturbing my guests. Nobody wants to see your ugly face over breakfast. You’ll put them off their food and business has been slow enough as it is.”
“I’ll do more than that, if I find out that certain wanted parties are staying here,” warned Karim. “Have you noticed anyone suspicious asking for a room here in the past day or two?”
Basile slowly sank down in his chair when he heard the question, trying to cast a spell of invisibility over himself so that the soldier wouldn’t notice him listening in.
No such luck. The cook glanced in his direction.
“We have had one party that were different to our usual guests,” the cook confirmed. “They seemed a shabby, motley crew, all right. Five men who looked like they hadn’t had a bath in weeks along with an Egyptian woman wearing one of those weird Korean dresses. They didn’t look like the kind of people who’d be traveling together, but you know what it’s like. It’s not our job to pry into our guests’ business, much as I would have loved to know how they ended up in such a state. I figured that she was some sort of madam blackmailing them into doing her bidding. These days, you never can tell.”
The soldier looked over at Basile, who did his best to appear nonchalant.
“Nothing to see here,” the engineer muttered under his breath. “Move along, move along. This is not the guest you’re looking for.”
Where were the Jedi mind tricks when you needed them?
Karim lowered his voice and leaned towards the cook.
“All right,” he said. “I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but a Bruard VTOL was discovered near the coastline by a shepherd. Whoever had been flying in it was long since gone, but they’d made a crude attempt to conceal it, although why they bothered I don’t know. By all accounts, the shepherd spotted it the second they went into the field. A few branches aren’t exactly going to be enough to cover a whole airplane.”
“The Bruard?” gasped the cook, paling. “Around here? We’ll all be slaughtered in our beds!”
“No, you won’t,” Karim reassured her. “Not while I’m on duty, though you should make sure all your windows and doors are secure before you go to bed tonight. We have reason to believe the Bruard may be actively spying in the area. We don’t believe they’re planning any active campaigns, but I would advise you to report anything suspicious to the authorities to be on the safe side.”
“Wait a minute,” mused the cook. “I seem to recall reading some rumors online about suspicious activities from Carthage to Raf Raf. I put it down to fake news, but perhaps there was something to the story after all.”
“Exactly,” nodded Karim. “Which is why we should be on our guard. We need to take care of each other.”
“I don’t think I have any Bruard agents staying here though,” said the cook. “I couldn’t help but hear some of that group’s discussions last night over dinner and it didn’t sound like they were terrorists plotting an attack. I didn’t really understand what they were saying to be honest. It was all a bunch of mumbo jumbo about Catholic legends and ancient history. I can’t imagine anyone associated with the Bruard would care about that sort of thing.”
“Is that so?” The soldier frowned. “Well, I’d like to speak with them anyway, just in case. You’re not a professional. I’ll need to see for myself whether they’re innocent travelers, madam or not.”
Basile dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and quietly pushed his chair away from the table to creep upstairs. His breakfast was only half eaten, but he’d lost his appetite. He had to go and warn the others that their cover might have been blown.
“Leaving so soon?”
The soldier’s hand landed on Basile’s shoulder, forcing him to say in his seat.
“Je suis desole, mais je ne parle anglais.” Claiming that he didn’t speak English had gotten Basile out of a fair few sticky situations in the past, and he did his best to look innocent, keeping his eyes wide and shrugging his shoulders.
“I think your English is perfectly fine,” countered the soldier. “I want to talk to you for a moment. Just a few routine questions, nothing that should cause you any alarm if you’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Biensur.” Basile’s heart sank, as he realized he wasn’t going to be able to fast talk his way out of this. What on earth could he say to the soldier that wouldn’t get them into trouble? And what could he say that the others would guess if the soldier went to interrogate them before he had a chance to brief them?
It wasn’t fair. Engineering school hadn’t prepared him for this.
Nine
Basile felt uncomfortably warm as the soldier took a seat opposite. He gulped, pulling at his collar in a bid to settle himself, while the soldier stared him down. Basile could hear the cook shuffling around behind him, presumably trying to eavesdrop without being too obvious about it.
“My name is Karim.” The soldier finally intr
oduced himself. “And you are?”
“Basile Rossignol,” came the reply. Much as he hated having to give away his identity in case he was listed on some wanted database somewhere, Basile couldn’t risk being asked for ID and being exposed in such an obvious lie.
“Basile Rossignol.” The soldier nodded slowly. “Nice name. You’re not from around here, are you?”
Basile bit back the sarcastic instinct to make the cutting remark that threatened to burst out. “I’m just passing through,” was all he said.
“Passing through to where?” asked Karim.
“Oh, you know,” shrugged Basile. “Wherever the wind takes me. I’m traveling with some friends on a tour of ancient Roman sites. You know what it’s like when you hit a certain age and you realize there’s more to life than the boring 9 to 5. We wanted to see a bit of the world and thought Tunisia was a great place to start. You have a beautiful country, you know.”
“Don’t lie to me!” The soldier slammed his hands down on the table. “Why are you here?”
“I told you. We’re simple tourists with an interest in ancient civilizations.”
“How long are you staying here?”
“I don’t know.” Basile shrugged his shoulders again, desperately trying to maintain an air of calm. If Karim decided to throw them into a Tunisian prison, there would be no way they could beat the Bruard to the remaining artifact.
“You do know!”
“I don’t!” protested Basile. “I wanted a change from the Parisian rat race, so when my friends said they were coming out here, I decided to join them. We haven’t planned our trip. We’re just going to go to anywhere that strikes us as interesting. We’ve only just arrived in the country, so we’re going to take our time to see the sights before deciding on where to get next. Maybe it will be Egypt. Maybe it will be India. Who knows?”
