Journey to the Lost Tomb (Rowan and Ella Book 2) (11 page)

           
In
addition to the dragoman William, who translated for the party when necessary and
served as pseudo butler, Digby had hired a bodyguard in Cairo named Abdullah—a
sour, mean-faced ferret of a man with glittering black eyes. He carried a
wicked, curved knife clearly visible to all.

           
Ella
couldn’t help but wonder why Digby felt he needed a personal bodyguard.

Chapter Nine

The Nile River 1922

           
They
ran aground three times in as many days which caused general alarm but tended
to be a fairly easy fix, as far as Ella could tell, with the crew scurrying
around jamming huge poles into the sand banks to spring the boat free.

           
She
loved to listen to the singing of the crew as they worked. They often sang and
she found the melodies reassuring. She hoped it meant they enjoyed their work
and didn’t feel too badly oppressed. Because the Nile ran from south to north,
the trip was upstream against the current, making consistent progress depend
more and more on the efforts of the crew rather than the wind. The
Satiah’s
captain, a taciturn, dark
Egyptian named Ahmed, often commanded his men to strap themselves to the boat
and
hand row
the
dahabiya
when it slowed noticeably.

           
One
afternoon, watching the men sweat and strain as if they were slaves in a
wheelhouse, Ella asked, “Are we in a hurry?”

           
“Mr.
Carter is anxious to return to his excavation site.” Julia said. “If Lord
Carnarvon hadn’t asked him to escort us, he would never have left. His work is
very important.”

           
“And
why, again, is it we are going there?”

           
Julia
put down the pencil she was using to sketch with and squinted against the sun
from her lounge on the top deck. As usual, the two women were alone.

           
“My
husband believes that Mr. Carter is very close to making a big discovery.”

           
“And
he wants in on it?”

           
“It
will be the making of anyone attached to the find. When it happens.”

           
“Well,
why are
you
going there, then?”

           
“I
told you.” Julia looked uneasily over the banister at the stairs. “I want the
adventure.”

           
“Okay,
that’s just hard to believe, Julia. Excuse me for saying so. You hate the sun.
You despise the bugs. You can’t bear to have any of the Egyptians actually
touch
you.”

           
“Well,
none of that is true,” Julia said but she looked unsure as if she had not seen
herself that way until this moment. “I am very plucky, I’ll have you know.”

           
“If
you say so.” Neither spoke for a moment. A stillness descended on the boat broken
only by the soft sounds of the crew’s singing below. There was a pleasant
breeze on the deck. Ella turned her face up to the sun.
 

           
“You’ll
freckle,” Julia warned.
           

           
“What
is it you are drawing?”

           
Julia
turned her sketchpad so that Ella could see
 
a depiction of the riverbank with palm
trees and the suggestion of a village on the horizon. The lines were clean and
confident, the representation true.
 

           
“You’re
good, Julia,” Ella said. “You know, Howard said he started out on his first
archaeological excavation as an artist. Maybe that’s something you could do
when we get to his camp.”

           
“I
cannot believe you call him
Howard
.
Really, Ella! And I’m not looking for
employment
,
thank you.”
   

           
Digby
materialized from the top rung of the ladder, spoke loudly and pointed over the
women’s heads. “You can see the temples of the Eighteenth Dynasty just there.” Ella
noticed that Julia jumped violently at the sound of his voice.
 

           
“Will
we be stopping to see them?” Ella asked, shading her eyes and looking in the
direction he had pointed.

           
“Oh,
heavens, no,” Digby said, looking at her and licking his lips. “Carter would
pop a gasket at the mere suggestion. As it is, any time now I expect the man to
jump out and start pushing.” He laughed at his own wit.

           
Earlier
that morning Ella had caught a glimpse of Digby and Julia whispering behind the
bulkhead. It didn’t look like a pleasant conversation and Ella could see
Digby’s hand gripping Julia’s arm tight enough to leave finger marks that were
still visible moments later. Ella found herself thinking even an unhappy
conversation, surely, was better than no contact at all.

           
“Well,
I’m sure he’s anxious to get back to work,” Ella said. She was glad they were
not going to stop. Tombs and temples sounded boring and dusty. She looked at
Julia to see her reaction but Julia had buried herself in her drawing, refusing
to look up.

           
Dinner
was a delicious roast chicken with crispy potatoes and canned peas. As this was
their last night before they landed at Luxor, both Digby and Carter had urged
the two women to join them on the upper deck after dinner. While the men smoked
their cigars and sipped their brandies, Julia and Ella, both tucked into warm
woolen wraps, drank sherry and listened to the men talk.

           
The
Milky Way stretched brightly and clearly across the sky. Ella had never seen a
night sky so stunning. In US cities, she had become so used to the smoggy
southern nights that blocked out the stars that she felt like she was seeing
the celestial display for the first time.
No
wonder people write poems about the stars in the sky
, she thought with
wonder as she watched them twinkle in the deep blue firmament.
 

           
She
found herself longing to share the sight with Rowan.
Was Carol right? Was she so selfish that she didn’t deserve him?
Ella knew she had been thwarted in returning to her own time—and to Rowan—but
she also knew, not so deep down, that she hadn’t tried very hard either. She
watched the stars and missed him deeply. She had to force from her mind the
thought that, in 1922 Rowan yet existed.

           
William
came up with a tray of hot coffee. Earlier that day he had related a story to Ella
and Julia that he had heard in one of the villages of grave robbers who were
accused of murdering a boatload of Dutch tourists the season before. They
robbed the group of their artifacts only to discover that the artifacts were
fakes purchased in Alexandria before their trip.
 

           
Ella
liked William’s stories. He was colorful and animated and spoke English well.
She noticed he was careful not to speak to either of the women when Digby was
present. Even now, as he handed out the coffee cups, he kept his eyes down as
if afraid that Ella might engage him in conversation.

           
“Mr.
Carter,” Julia said, as she waited for her steaming cup of coffee to cool,
“what did Monsieur Maspero have to say about your prospects?”

           
“Don’t
be stupid, Julia,” Digby said. “That idiot Maspero wouldn’t know anyone’s
prospects from his hairy arse.”

           
Ella
was shocked. In the few days she had lived in 1920’s upper crust society,
calling your wife
stupid
in public and
then following it with the phrase
hairy
arse
was about as offensive as you could get.

           
“I
say, steady on, old man,” Carter said, admonishing Digby. “It’s a fair
question,” he said to Julia, who had visible blanched at Digby’s assault. Ella
was grateful that Carter was trying to cover up the ugliness. She didn’t know
what Digby’s problem was, but it was a relief to know Carter wouldn’t stand for
it.

           
“Not
to speak ill of the man,” Carter continued, “but he’s not as fussy as I’d
prefer him to be in the acquisition of his museum pieces, if you know what I
mean.”

           
“Isn’t
he in charge of who digs where in the Valley of the Kings?” Ella asked.

           
“That’s
right,” Carter said, smiling at her indulgently. “But he’s happy to get his
museum items—if they’re genuine—from anywhere and from anyone.”

           
“Is
that bad?” Ella asked.

           
“It
is, actually,” Carter said, sipping his brandy. “The problem stems from the
fact that when treasure hunters know there is a legitimate place to sell their
stolen goods, there is no motivation for them to stop looting the tombs. And
there is always damage done when they do it.”

           
Digby
edged closer to Ella. “The Valley of the Kings is full of tombs,” he said,
“many as yet undiscovered, but even the discovered ones still have treasures to
yield.”

           
“That
is true,” Carter said. “Though the jewels and gold may have been robbed long
ago, the occupants were often left undisturbed. There are some who believe
that
is the true treasure.”

           
“Mummies!”
Ella said.

           
Everyone
laughed.

           
“Exactly,”
Carter said. “And even better,
royal
mummies.”

           
Ella
knew about King Tut, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember if Howard
Carter was the one who found him.
The Boy
King
, she thought.
Here’s where you
get found and shown to the world after three thousand long years of obscurity
.
Again, she thought of Rowan. God, he would love to be here for this. And a
faint sadness wafted over her in a steady wave that all the brandy and starry
nights could not touch.

Cairo, 2013

           
Rowan
stood at the bar at the Cairo Hilton and showed Ella’s photograph to the
bartender. There was no question that Ella had stayed there. Rowan was just trying
to fill in the gaps of her last day.

           
The
bartender shook his head. He was a mocha-colored Egyptian with a long, thin
face, a pointed beard and dark sad eyes. He regretted that he had not seen the
efendim
.

           
Rowan
hadn’t expected him to. It was just the last possible line to explore before
slamming into a jet-lagged stupor after a long day of travel followed by hours
of trying
 
to retrace Ella’s steps.
 
He had spent the afternoon walking the
residential streets of Old Cairo and wondering if she was being held against
her will in one of the long rows of narrow houses that lined the streets. He
spoke with the doorman at her hotel and several of the taxi cab drivers, none
of whom remembered her.

           
As
he stripped off his clothes to shower before bed, he tried to calm the part of
his brain that usually was the most analytical and so, normally, the most helpful.
Tonight it was only a torture to run through all the possible disasters that
could have befallen Ella—starting with what might have been orchestrated by
Maddie’s ex-fiancé, Gagan Gupta.

           
Rowan
hadn’t wanted to bring up the possibility with Maddie, but it was the only part
of Ella’s trip that had obvious sinister features. He had taken a taxi straight
from Cairo International Airport to pay a visit to Mr. Gupta. The meeting had
been brief enough. Gupta, himself, had been in the hospital with a burst
appendix at the time that Ella disappeared. It was possible the man could have
had others do his dirty work, Rowan didn’t think that likely. He had talked to
a lot of accomplished liars in his time, confronted some of the lowest scum to
ever line the bottom of a shoe. And while he planned to track down every
possible lead connected to Gupta, his instinct told him they would not lead him
to Ella.

           
As
soon as he set foot in Cairo, he had been assailed by a certainty of feeling
that Ella was no longer in the city. All the excuses or hopeful suppositions he
might tell himself back in Dothan were useless here.

 
          
Somehow,
he just knew. Ella wasn’t here.

           
After
he emerged from the shower, he glanced at his cellphone and saw that a call had
come in from Maddie. He tucked the phone under his chin and rang her back.

           
“Maddie?
You called?”

           
“Rowan,
honey, I forgot something El told me that might not be important…”

           
“What
is it?” Rowan interrupted. In his experience, it was
always
the bit of information that
didn’t
sound important that was the missing piece.