The
Curator watched the courier take his leave from the office
to deliver
the message which would change the lives of Evelyn and
Jonathan.
A tinge of regret touched his heart but his actions were
ultimately
for the greater good.
Dr. Bey was
really very fond of Evelyn despite one or two
idiosyncrasies
which annoyed him, but her enthusiasm was charming and
her knowledge
of ancient Egypt was a great asset to the museum. He
shook his
head sadly and sighed as he moved before the window to
watch the
courier disappear from sight and thought to himself how
ironic it
was that it would be her enthusiasm which leads to her
downfall.
Her father had been a true friend to him and he had done
his best to
keep an eye on her and provide her with a living, but he
could not
allow her to unveil the secrets of Hamunaptra.
He prayed to
Allah that she would see sense when faced with the Med-
jai, that
she would heed their warning and not force their hand
further. Unfortunately
he knew otherwise. Jonathan would not pass
up the opportunity
of snaring such an enormous fortune and Evelyn
would not
be able to turn away from the chance to become as great as
her parents.
*
Drake grinned
at his strange companion as they exited the small plane business and headed
again into the dangerous streets. "See that you do, O'Connell," he
told him mildly as his dark eyes searched the streets. It seemed
to be one of the more busy days in Cairo which would prove good for covering
their tracks...at least for these purposes. They were going to have
to get some different clothes soon, however.
The walk was
a nervous one, but energized Drake. He had been left in the prison
because his gang simply couldn't get him out. The stunt they pulled
today had been one chance in a million, it seemed. They avoided clustering
prisoners near him for some reason. For them to have placed O'Connell
across from him must have meant the prison was getting full...something
that always lead to hangings. The warden always found an excuse for
hangings during 'full' times.
It was good
to be out. Drake inhaled deeply as they closed in upon the casbah.
Inside was just like Drake had remembered. Drunken patrons, card
players deeply in thought, belly dancers making the rounds. They
stepped up to the bar and Drake smiled as the bartender gasped in recognition.
"Drake?"
The big black
man nodded and held up a hand. "We don't have time for the pleasantries.
I'm on the run. This man here's looking for someone. I assume
you can settle with Ahmed for payment for information?" The barkeep
nodded. Drake smiled and looked to Rick. "Describe your friend
to him."
*
Describing
Jonathan Carnahan didn't take long. As it was, Rick
could only
remember the basics...hair colour, height and so on, last
seen heading
into the museum's back entrance, but he knew he'd
recognize
him instantly if they crossed paths again. At least having
Drake's men
on the trail should make short work of it.
With the business
side of things out of the way, Rick and Drake
settled themselves
at the bar. Once or twice Rick nervously surveyed
his surroundings
looking for the guards or some other authority, but
each time
Drake reassured him there would be no need to worry. By all
accounts it
seemed Drake's men were working overtime, even their new
clothes arrived
swiftly and without fanfare.
Over the course
of the evening the two men discovered they shared
many things
in common, not least of all a fondness for whiskey. As
the night
wore on and the bottles were drained, it was reassuring for
both to have
the minders so close at hand.
Rick may have
been on the run from the Legion and it was possible he
was only being
tolerated by Drake's men for no other reason than
Drake demanded
it. But he prided himself on the fact that before his
head slammed
onto the bar in a drunken stupor, through his blurred
vision he
saw Drake teeter as he tried to stand then crash
unceremoniously
to the casbah floor.
*
Drake woke
up suddenly. There was a hand on his shoulder. With
calculated
speed, Drake immediately grabbed it and lunged at the
person standing
over him. Then he saw who it was. The barkeep. He
frowned and
sat back down, now grabbing his head in alcohol induced
anguish. The
barkeep shook his head and sat down across from
Drake. "I've
been trying to wake you for ten minutes. Last night it
took two of
my bouncers to carry you and your friend in here."
Drake surveyed
his surroundings. They seemed to be in some storage
room. O'Connell
was still out in a chair in the corner. "Last
night?" he
said softly, trying not to jar his head too much.
The barkeep
nodded his head in irritation. He pointed and raised his
voice. "You
and your companion had quite a bit to drink last night.
You get out
of prison and the first thing you do is get dead drunk!
The authorities
came here twice looking for you two!" He waited for
Drake to reply
and got nothing. Rolling his eyes, he sighed. "My
men knew,
or at least suspect they know, of who you're looking for.
Some man by
the name of Carnahan. He's made a little name for
himself, stealing
things and running off with them. He was seen
going into
a house not too far from here in the good part of town."
Before Drake
could reply to that, they heard a groan from across the
room. Grinning,
the assassin watched O'Connell drag himself up in
pain and look
at them. "We found your thief."
*
The Med-jai
courier galloped into the camp, exhausted after a
full day's
ride. The urgency of the message which he carried was
adamantly
expressed by Dr.Bey and the young tribesman did not wish to
tempt fate
by stopping anywhere along the way.
He had been
spotted by the lookouts several miles before he reached
his destination
and as he dismounted he turned to look straight into
the face of
the Tribal Leader, Ardeth Bay. It would seem his arrival
and his message
had not been totally unexpected.
*
Rick covered
his eyes and turned his head from the painful
bright light
of morning. Putting a finger to his parched lips he
almost begged
for the barkeeper to lower his voice "Ssshhhh!" But
sadly for
him, the booming voice sounded right next to his ear and
echoed agonizingly
within his skull "CARNAHAN! ENGLISH! WE FOUND
HIM!" Rick
felt the seemingly inescapable urge to curl up and roll
into the nearest
corner, but he summonded the remarkable strength to
raise his
head and face his tormentor. He spoke, just above a
whisper "Thank
you". To his relief the man merely chuckled and left
him alone
with Drake, each of them struggling to cope with the
unpleasant
effects induced by their heavy night of drinking.
Rick tried
to stand but immediately thought the better of it. He
looked over
at Drake and realized he was of the same mind. "I guess
with all this
hired help, you've got someone who makes coffee too,
right?" Drake
simply pointed towards the cluttered table which held,
amongst other
things, a steaming coffee pot and two mugs. Rick
immediately
brightened up only to grab hold of his pounding head.
Very gingerly,
he walked over to the table and poured himself a cup,
relief seeping
through him with each sip "Aahhh! The nectar of the
gods!"
Drake eyed
him, fully expecting a cup to be passed in his direction,
but disappointment
took the place of anticipation. Rick didn't even
turn around
when he spoke "Your barkeeper guy? He didn't say where
Carnahan was?"
*
Drake pulled
himself from the couch he'd been placed on and stood for a
moment, trying
to stop the spinning. A few steps and he was at the table.
He was in
no hurry to reply to O'Connell, in fact was in no hurry to do
anything but
drink the coffee. He picked up the pot and grabbed a mug. "A
house in the
good part of town," Drake replied, sniffing the coffee and then
taking a sip.
"He's probably shacking up with some broad or has some nice
friends. I
wasn't given any specific information yet." He licked his lips
and groaned,
closing his eyes.
The door opened
and the barkeep returned, eyeing both of them. He held up a
paper which
O'Connell took and said flatly, "Here's the address. There's a
closet over
there," he pointed, "that has assorted clothing in it. I
suggest you
find something plain to disguise yourself with. The authorities
seemed a little
bent on getting their hands on you two last night." He
grinned and
ruffled O'Connell's dusty brown hair. "Better cover this. Not
many light-headed
men around." He laughed at the American's wince.
*
After several
mugs of coffee the effects of last night's binge
were still
evident but at least they were now endurable, and Rick had
to admit that
the change of clothing would lend support while he and
Drake lurked
about up-town weeding out this Carnahan guy. He
figured as
long as he didn't have to run anywhere things should work
out alright.
From what he remembered of the Englishman he was pretty
sure he'd
surrender the box without a struggle, and God knows he
wasn't up
to that! If worse came to worst, he could always poke a
gun in his
face.
After the most
torturous car journey in his life, Rick stood beside
Drake looking
at the impressive stone villa in which Carnahan was
meant to be.
There was no other word for it. There weren't many
places in
Cairo like it and Rick reasoned that he had to be staying
as somebody's
guest, otherwise picking pockets must be just an
amusing distraction
for this guy.
Rick looked
at the equally impressed Drake and shrugged, "Well, I
sure as hell
can't just knock on the door, there's no telling who's
inside!" Both
men surveyed the exterior of the building, both
silently agreeing
that scaling the wall was out of the question, but
neither could
they loiter in the street without drawing attention, so
the decision
was made to return in the evening.
Just as they
turned to leave, the front door creaked open and a young
European woman
made her way down the front steps towards the street.
Seeing what
would perhaps be his only chance for a quick and quiet
entry, he
walked up to the woman, squeezed her arm and re-directed
her back into
the house. "Just keep it calm and walk with me back
inside" he
whispered to her "No need to panic, I'm just looking for
someone".
Rick then looked over his shoulder and motioned for Drake
to follow.
*
Evy found herself
being forced back into her home by a rough hand. Before
she could
say a word he had her back in the house. He shoved her away and
she turned.
There were two men before her, one of light skin and the other
of very dark.
They both looked very threatening, particularly in view of
the fact they
were holding guns. "What is the meaning of this?" she
demanded,
hoping Jonathan was upstairs. He'd gone out last night and she
didn't know
if he'd come home.
The big black
man held his gun firmly and eyed her. "We don't want to hurt
you, lady.
Just cooperate, okay?"
Evy crossed
her arms and looked at the two strangers that had barged into
her home and
were now threatening her. "What do you want?" she asked,
trying to
remain calm.
*
Rick eyed the
small, incensed woman and smirked. The most damage
she appeared
capable of was to kick him in the shin and he simply
stepped by
her without speaking. He stopped at the foot of the
staircase
and peered upward to the next floor, then he glanced into
the two doorways
either side of him. The house was deathly quiet and
it appeared
she was here alone.
"Are you the
maid?" he asked, but this only drew an indignant gasp
from the woman
and an audible snort from Drake. "Obviously not." he
smiled wickedly.
He walked back
and stood before her, meeting her gaze. She seemed
determined
not to show her fear, but unfortanately for her, he could
sense it when
she averted her eyes from his. He was somewhat
surprised
by her composure, and at the same time relieved she wasn't
the hysterical
type. For Rick, having to subdue screaming women was
always unpleasant,
but occasionally necessary.
He lowered
his gun and spoke calmly. "We'll be out of here as
quickly as
we came. Just tell me where the little, weedy English guy
is? Carnahan."
