The Cana Mystery (10 page)

“What is it?” he asked.

“A text from my friend, but it sounds off. I don’t know anyone named James.” Ava sensed there must be a hidden message. She didn’t see it immediately, but some codes had to be broken the hard way. Her mind began crunching possibilities. She disassembled the sentences, shuffled the sequence of words, rearranged words into anagrams, counted letter frequency, substituted numbers for letters . . .

“Your communications are compromised.” Paul said suddenly.

Ava looked up in surprise. “What?”

“Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
.
”

“Never saw it.”

“You’ve never seen
Star Trek II
? It’s the best of the whole series. Maybe that’s your problem. Too much Thucydides, too little Kirk.”

“Just explain the stupid reference.”

“Captain Kirk is trapped on the Genesis planet with that lady scientist, Dr. Marcus or whatever. The one he impregnates.”

Ava stared at him blankly.

“Anyway, Spock is on the
Enterprise
and needs to tell Kirk that Ricardo Montalbán is listening to their phone calls. Spock says he’s doing everything by the book, like Kirstie Alley would do. Kirk knows that ‘by the book’ means ‘to assume the enemy is listening.’ So your friend’s saying someone hacked into your communications.”

That made sense. Gabe loved sci-fi movies. He’d assume she’d seen
Star Trek II.

“If he says enemies are listening,” Ava observed, “we can bank on it.”

She could hear him breathing in the dark room. It didn’t sound as though he was asleep.

“Paul?”

“Mmm?”

“What are we going to do?”

“You tell me.”

“We can’t stay here. We have to keep moving.”

“No kidding. You should see what they charge for whiskey.”

Ava giggled. “I mean we have to leave the city.”

“I know. We will. We’ll leave tomorrow, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

“How?” she asked, remembering Yemen. “Simon’s henchmen will be watching the airport, the train station, maybe the buses. We can’t even go to the police.”

He sighed. “That’s why we’re leaving by boat.”

“What do you mean? With those teenagers?”

“Ammon said they can get us all the way north to Rosetta by river, and from there down the coast to Alexandria.”

“Is the Rasheed branch even navigable?”

“I don’t know. I’m not intimately familiar with the western delta, but I know this: It’s the boondocks. No one will look for us out there. We’ll be off the grid, effectively invisible.”

In the dark, Ava nodded. She recognized the value of invisibility.

“Besides, their speedboat takes a very shallow draft. Even with us and the jars, I bet it can ride cleanly in a meter of water. A panga is super light, very buoyant.”

“How long would it take?”

“About one full day straight through. They’ve made the trip before. Ammon said it’s a little tricky in places, but I told him that a hard-core warrior princess like you would personally tow the boat through the fetid swamp . . .”

“Paul?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

Moments later, a quiet snore indicated that he’d fallen asleep. For Ava, despite the clean, luxurious sheets and soft down pillows, sleep did not come so easily. When she finally nodded off, she dozed fitfully, disturbed by vivid dreams. First she was back in Boston, late for an exam. Next, she was hitchhiking through the lush countryside, discussing Jericho with Clark Gable. Then the world froze. Gable vanished. The backdrop metamorphosed into a desolate ice shelf on a frigid, moonlit night. Ava sensed a subsurface threat. The monstrous orca rose, circling a tiny floe that sheltered two seal pups. Ava’s pulse quickened. Though she longed to protect the vulnerable creatures, she felt powerless against the six-ton predator. She cried out, but the howling arctic wind obliterated her warning. Desperate, Ava’s lips began forming words she’d memorized long ago: “Hail Mary, full of grace . . .” As she continued the prayer she felt herself grow warmer. Then a miraculous, heavenly glow illuminated the seals. Startled, the killer abandoned its pursuit and descended back into darkness.

Gabe’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and his eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Gabe. This is Jess. I don’t know if you remember me.”

He certainly did. Jess was among the most beautiful and enticing women Gabe had ever met. In real life, at least.

“Of course. We met at the May Day party. We discussed
Harry Potter
.”

Gabe had read all the books. Jess had been an extra in one of the films.

“Right. Nice speaking to you again. By chance, have you heard from Ava recently?”

“No,” he said. “Why?”

“She hasn’t answered her phone in days. Now her voice mail is full. Dr. Fischer called me several times looking for her, and this morning Professor Kostova from MIT said a government agent has been asking questions. She fears that Ava may be in trouble.”

More than you can imagine,
Gabe thought.

Just before dawn the private study, richly paneled in Circassian walnut, stood dark and empty. The heavy door of oak and iron swung ajar with a loud creak as a man, dressed all in black, entered. He walked to the desk, lifted his phone, and dialed a private number. When the Egyptian answered, the churchman spoke an ancient password.

“I am your servant, Father. What are my orders?”

“Time grows short. Pope Benedict’s reign will end soon. You must act. Do whatever it takes to discover their secret.”

“I will.”

“But use stealth,” he cautioned. “Never underestimate their cunning. If they discern your true allegiance—”

“I understand the risks, Father. I shall beguile them.”

The churchman smiled. “Your faith makes you strong.”

As he gave the Egyptian detailed instructions, he emerged from behind his desk, crossed the room, and stood before a large marble figure of a man contemplating a human skull.

Chapter 7

7

Ava woke with a start. Paul was gone. The sun was already high in the sky. It had to be at least ten in the morning. She checked the clock: ten forty-five. “The idiots must have forgotten our wake-up call,” she said out loud. Furious, Ava jumped out of bed and was packing when she heard a knock at the door.

“Room service.”

She didn’t believe that for a second. Beginning to panic, she scanned the room for an exit but saw no options. The door to the adjoining room was locked. Could she jump from the balcony?

“Room service, madam.”

Could she tie sheets together and climb down to the balcony below? Ava started to strip the bed but immediately a key entered the lock. She froze. Hearing the cylinder click, she crouched behind the bed. Where was Paul’s knife? In the drawer maybe? As the door opened, Ava poked up her head, barely over the edge. An Egyptian wearing tan slacks, a red coat, and a bow tie entered the room. He wheeled in a cart laden with tea, orange juice, rolls, muffins, fresh fruit, and what smelled like scrambled eggs and bacon.

“Madam?” he asked, eyeing her curiously. He lifted the silver cover from a hot plate. The aroma was divine.

“Mister Paul, he order breakfast. He say you want karkade tea. You want coffee too?”

Still poised to sprint for the door, Ava watched him like a hawk. She said nothing.

“Okay,” said the confused waiter. “No coffee today. Enjoy!”

Forcing a polite smile, he backed out of the room as quickly as courtesy permitted.

Once he was gone Ava cautiously approached the breakfast platter. She sniffed the fruit cup. No hint of poison, but many were odorless.

Then she heard Paul’s voice in the hall. Of course he was laughing about something. Ava fumed.

Clean-shaven and sporting new attire, Paul entered. “Hey, the waiter is really sorry he woke you. He said you looked a little—”

“Paul, you moron! Did you even set a wake-up call? Why are we still here? They could find the jars any second! What in God’s name made you think we have the time or the money for room service? You remember that they have machine guns, right? Do you by any chance remember that they’re trying to kill us?”

“You needed sleep! They don’t know we’re—”

“But how long will it take them to figure it out? A day? Gabe says they’re monitoring our communications. They saw the bus. They probably stopped it. The driver might not talk, but surely one of the pilgrims will. If they know we got off in El Wasta, they may have already found Akhmim. He’ll tell them we went to Giza. Do you think he’d die to keep that secret? He has a wife and kids!” Ava started crying. “Paul, if we slow down, we get caught. If we get caught, we die.”

Ava refused to eat breakfast, and Paul refused to leave it behind. He packed the fruit and bread into plastic bags that he  found in the hotel closet and stuffed them inside his backpack. An uncomfortable silence ensued as they waited for the elevator. With a carafe of orange juice in one hand, a pot of tea in the other, and a heaping plate of eggs and bacon wedged between his arm and his body, Paul looked and felt ridiculous.

The elevator opened. An elderly, well-dressed couple was inside. The man and woman smiled. Then their eyebrows arched as they noticed what Paul was carrying. “Picnic lunch?” the woman asked.

Paul tried not to grin. He glanced at Ava beseechingly.

“We’re, um . . .” she tried to explain, as a smile crept across her face. “We’re in a really big hurry to see the pyramids.” Despite herself, she stifled a giggle. Paul was struggling to hold back laughter.

The woman replied, “Oh, you needn’t hurry, lass. Been there for centuries, haven’t they?”

“Longer!” Her husband boomed enthusiastically. “Ten thousand years, I say.” Paul could take no more. His laughter erupted in the elevator. Ava laughed too. Maybe she’d been a little harsh. She knew she was right, but she didn’t need to kick in his teeth.

They rode down to the lobby, said their good-byes, exited the hotel, and headed for the river. Behind them, the Englishwoman shook her head. “Newlyweds!”

A radiant African sun cooked the ancient city. Paul understood why Egyptians had worshipped the sun as a god. The Americans arrived at the waterfront. Despite Ava’s concerns, Ammon and Sefu were waiting at the agreed location, and the two canvas-
covered packages looked undisturbed.

After everyone exchanged greetings, Paul noticed the teens eyeing his food. Reserving the bacon and juice for himself, Paul handed over the tea, rolls, fruit, and eggs. The hungry boys wolfed them down in seconds. Breakfast complete, Ammon ceremoniously presented Paul with an envelope full of Egyptian banknotes. Ava shot him a questioning glance.

“He sold my watch. They knew a man who’d give a good price for it.”

“TAG Heuer,” said Sefu reverently. “Aquaracer.”

As the teens unmoored the skiff and shoved away from the pier, Ava gave Paul a gentle look.

“Ah, what the hell?” he said, grinning. “It was a gift from Simon. I didn’t want it anymore. Besides,” he added, raising his voice as Ammon revved the engine and launched them into the channel, “we need the money.”

The boys were showing off, keeping the throttle wide open and zigzagging between larger watercraft. Sailors yelled and cursed when they almost swamped an antique-looking dhow. Nervous at first, Ava soon adapted to the boys’ frenetic navigation. She took a fatalistic approach. If it was her time, she’d rather leave behind an obituary that said “Graduate student dies in spectacular Cairo speedboat crash” than “Lonely, cautious woman dies of natural causes.”

Paul had convinced her that, under the circumstances, woolen robes were superfluous. The strong breeze made it impossible to keep on a hood. Plus, they were hot and itchy. Ava was far more comfortable in her running shorts and her white T-shirt from Kamaran Island. She stretched out at the bow, enjoying the brilliant sun, the scenery, and the occasional refreshing splash of cool water. Paul noticed the boys admiring Ava’s clothing and wondered how many splashes were accidental.

They cruised past Gezira Island. As she regarded the Zamalek District’s swanky high-rises, Ava pondered what response to send Gabe. She took his warning that big brother was listening as a certainty. It went along with what Paul had explained about Simon’s methods. Having installed network infrastructure for several Middle Eastern nations, Simon had access to all manner of data streams. Naturally, he employed a team of crypto experts in Yemen to keep his own communications secure and occasionally to snoop on the competition. She decided to keep it short, sweet, and false: “Got message. Thx. In Cairo. Driving south to Luxor 2nite. Say hi to James.”

Ava sent the text and then turned off the phone to conserve its battery. The skiff crossed under the steel Imbaba Bridge. From this point, the Mediterranean coast was less than two hundred kilometers away, but because the river twisted and curved back on itself like a coiled cobra, the actual distance traveled would be greater. Once they were sixteen kilometers downstream, Ammon reduced speed to twenty knots, veered west, and headed for the Nile’s Rasheed branch.

While the boys argued about drag racing, Ava meticulously applied SPF 25 to her arms, legs, and neck. She tanned easily, but a full afternoon of direct Egyptian sun, even in the cooler February air, was too much for any Anglo. Paul took the hint, accepted a thick dollop, and slathered his exposed areas. He added a filthy baseball cap to shade his face.

When Ava gave him a look he said: “It’s my lucky cap.”

“Superstitious nonsense,” she muttered.

After three long hours on the water, Ammon cut the engine and docked near the farming village of Gezai. Paul gave the boys some Egyptian pounds and the teens jumped ashore to buy supplies. Meanwhile, Ava reclined, bathing in sunlight. Silence dominated, interrupted only by the sounds of the flowing river and regular creaks from the rope tethering them to the pier. Soon, Ammon and Sefu returned with ice, Cokes, beer, and gasoline. The cold drinks were delicious. Spirits renewed, the travelers continued across the vast delta. North of the Tamalay Bridge they entered a section of river overgrown with blue-green algae. Ammon cursed. Navigating here was a chore. The opaque algae grew thickest in the shallows, where underwater hazards lurked. Paul didn’t care for the odor. Judging from Ava’s expression, she was equally displeased. “I have a riddle,” he said, thinking to distract her.