The Moses Legacy (19 page)

Mid-April was towards the end of the tourist season, at least for the southern Nile and the Valley of the Kings. Strictly speaking it was the tourist season all year round, but in the Luxor area, until late September, it would simply be too hot for the Western tourists.

Yes, they would still come and they would still take cruises on the Nile, but they would go with the luxury, air-conditioned vessels not the austere
feluccas
. Na'if's father had been lucky to get that job – carrying that Western couple from the Esna Lock to Cairo. Normally the tourists just wanted a two-hour fun trip to get their feet wet, so to speak.

But now with the tourist season nearly over, it would be back to fishing. So now it was Na'if's duty to clean out the boat and get it ready for a fishing voyage. He always hated this time of year. The tourist season was so much more fun. Not just because the money was better, but also because there was more to do. The tourists were always interesting people to talk to. They came from other lands where they did things differently and it was always fun to hear about foreign lands, and especially to meet the Western girls who showed their bodies in the way they dressed.

He wanted one day to go to the West. Maybe to study in one of their universities or colleges. He had heard that in
the West you could study to be a reporter for a newspaper or learn how to play football like David Beckham. It would be nice to do that. If only his father had the money to send him.

It was while he was cleaning out the boat that he noticed something that must have fallen out of one of their pockets. It was a mobile phone, one of those big ones with a fancy display. It belonged to the man – Daniel. He remembered that now. He had two phones, but he never used them. And now he had lost one of them.

It was too late to give it back to him because they had left the boat and could be anywhere in Cairo. Besides, Daniel had
two
mobile phones; he had seen that. So why did he need both? It wasn't really stealing because he hadn't taken it, but merely found it. And he couldn't give it back to the owner because the owner wasn't there.

There was no point handing it in to the police. They would never be able to find the owner. So why couldn't he keep it for himself?

He made up his mind in that moment that this was precisely what he
would
do.

‘I didn't actually lose it,' Sarit was explaining. ‘I just left it in my hotel room by mistake.'

‘But why didn't you tell the police that you found it?'

Sarit was trying to convince the border official in Taba that it was all just a misunderstanding. But the border official was playing hardball.

‘I phoned the police and told them. But it was late at night when I discovered it and I couldn't get through to the right person. They said they'd pass on a message.'

‘But you don't know the name of the person you spoke to?'

‘I'm afraid not.'

‘What is the purpose of your visit to Israel?'

‘Sightseeing.'

It was normally the Israelis who were more suspicious, but it was understandable that the Egyptians were being cautious under the circumstances.

‘You don't think it was a bit careless, leaving the passport in your hotel room and then wasting police time by telling them that it was missing?'

Sarit felt herself blushing. This was good. It would make her seem like an embarrassed, careless tourist.

‘I didn't just forget it. It had actually fallen out of my bag in the hotel room and was down by the side of the
bed. It was only when I searched really thoroughly that I found it. Look, I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused. What more can I say?'

The official looked at her coldly. ‘We'll have to check with the police in Cairo.'

It was then that Sarit began to worry.

Daniel had initially assumed that Walid was a local Luxor man, because that was where he had boarded the
felucca
. But in fact he turned out to be a lot more well-connected than Daniel had imagined. He seemed to know everyone in Cairo, or at least everyone in the lower classes, from the waiters to the road-sweepers.

He also seemed to know quite a few of the Bedouin, including this group of five who were making their way across the Sinai Desert. Their original destination had apparently been Sharm el-Sheikh where they were going to ply their trade to the tourists, offering them camel rides.

But Mas'ud, the youngest member of the group, was planning on getting a job as a waiter in the hope of making his fortune or getting lucky with the younger female tourists. In some respects he was a bit like Na'if. When they were asked if they could change their plans and accompany the couple to Taba, he had been the first to point out that there were plenty of tourists there at this time of year, because it wasn't quite as hot as Sharm. And he for his part was quite happy to try his chances there first instead of Sharm.

Of course, with or without a change of plan, escorting the pair to Taba was a service and therefore payment was due. This time Walid bargained on their behalf, promising
them he would get them the best possible price. And so, 1,500 Egyptian pounds lighter, they set off on camels, with a five-man escort, from the fringes of Cairo to Taba, travelling when it was cooler, from sunrise till midday and then again from late afternoon till some time after sunset. They slept from late night till sunrise and rested – with or without sleep – from midday until the afternoon sun was low in the sky.

The Bedouin escort rode in formation with two in front of them, several yards ahead, and three a similar distance behind. The three behind were also leading four additional camels that followed by herd instinct without being tied or tethered. As Daniel and Gabrielle were also dressed in Bedouin robes (for an extra 100 Egyptian pounds), anyone in the military manning a checkpoint would have spotted a group of seven Bedouin with eleven camels and thought nothing more about it.

Being positioned in the middle gave Daniel and Gabrielle the opportunity to talk in private.

‘The Samaritans are basically concentrated in two communities. There's an Arabic-speaking community in Kiryat Luza in the West Bank, and a Hebrew-speaking community in Holon, inside Israel.'

‘And which community are we going to visit? Kiryat Luza or Holon?'

‘Ideally Kiryat Luza. It's actually located
on
Mount Gerizim, their sacred mountain, overlooking the town of Nablus. They used to be based in Nablus itself, but they fled to Kiryat Luza in the 1980s during the first intifada because they came under attack.'

‘Then wouldn't it be safer to meet the ones in Holon?'

‘That's probably what we'll have to do initially. I think that most of their priests are in Kiryat Luza. But if we talk to one
of their leaders in Holon, that can get us an introduction until we can meet the high priest and put our appeal to him.'

‘And you really think they're going to show you their most sacred documents?'

‘If I can show them that I can translate them and reveal the sacred truths, then yes… I think they will.'

‘But how are we going to get across the border?'

Daniel lowered his voice. ‘I have a plan – but it's risky.'

Neither of them noticed that in the group of three bringing up the rear, Mas'ud was taking an unhealthy interest in their conversation.

Sarit had been sitting in the waiting area on the Egyptian side of the border between Taba and Eilat for the last twenty minutes. They had told her to step aside and wait there so they could process the others more quickly. That did not bode well. Firstly, it meant that they were not letting the queue behind her pressure them into making a snap decision. Secondly it meant that they were taking it a lot more seriously than she had expected. She thought they would simply treat her as a scatterbrained tourist and wave her through. Instead, they were alert to the possibility that she might indeed be a terrorist or at least a passport thief.

The one thing she still had going for her was that it was still early morning and so it was unlikely that the right person would be on duty. Anyone with access to the police computer could confirm that the passport had been reported stolen, but only one or two police officers would be in any position to contradict the claim that the passport had been found or that she was the rightful passport holder.

Sarit didn't even know how long the real Kelly Harker would be staying in Cairo, suspecting that she was on some package tour and that was their ‘shopping afternoon' in the bazaar. That meant she had probably by now been given some sort of temporary travel documents by the British
Embassy and then whisked away with the rest of the group. Depending on the itinerary of the group she could be on a cruise boat on the Nile, climbing Jebel Musa (the traditional Mount Sinai), or flying down to Sharm for a few days of swimming and sunbathing.

If so, then it would not be easy for the police to contact her quickly. The most the officer in charge could say would be that he hadn't been updated and the woman had carried on with her tour group. It was extremely unlikely that Sarit would be brought face to face with the woman she was impersonating, but it was touch and go whether she would be allowed through or detained until the matter was fully and finally resolved.

‘I have some good news for you, Miss Harker,' said the border official. ‘We spoke to the officer in charge, and he said that he was the one who recommended you to look in your hotel room to make sure the passport hadn't fallen out there. He is pleased that you followed his advice, even if you were too embarrassed to tell him.'

A beaming smile broke out across Sarit's face. She couldn't believe her luck. So less than a quarter of an hour later, Sarit was crossing into Israel. On the Israeli side of the border, they started grilling her on the purpose of her visit. She cut it short by telling them in Hebrew that she was not Kelly Harker but Sarit Shalev and asking them to contact Dovi Shamir at a number she gave them.

After a two-minute conversation between officials, she was taken aside to a private room where she was allowed to talk to Dovi herself.

‘I've got a lot to tell you,' she said, demonstrating her penchant for understatement.

‘You had me worried,' he replied. ‘I'll send a chopper.' He hesitated to add that he was
still
worried.

‘Are you awake?' asked Gabrielle.

It was night and the Bedouin were sleeping in what their patriarch had humorously described as a ‘thousand-star hotel'.

‘Yes,' Daniel replied. ‘You?'

‘
No
, I'm talking in my sleep!'

Daniel and Gabrielle were supposed to be sleeping. They only had seven hours from their ten p.m stop to their pre-sunrise start. But they both had a lot on their minds, and sleep did not come easily to either of them.

‘Sorry, I'm not at my best at midnight.'

He turned in his sleeping bag to catch Gabrielle's face. It was illuminated by the merest sliver of the moon crescent, giving her a strangely vulnerable look.

‘I was just wondering what Charlotte would think if she could see you now.'

‘What on earth made you think of that?'

‘It's just that you… you seem to like roughing it. Those outings with your nephews… and that time we were on a dig together in Scotland.'

‘When you tried to come into my tent… yes, I remember. But what's that got to do with Charlotte?'

‘Well, she was so spoiled and pampered, with all her creature
comforts, and you're the exact opposite. You like the outdoors, you spent six days on a
felucca
without complaining. Now we're camped down here in the desert under the stars. Charlotte wouldn't have lasted an hour doing anything like this.'

‘She never really wanted to give it a try. It wasn't her world.'

‘So why did you marry the bitch?'

‘Oo, miao.'

‘No seriously, Daniel. Why would you want to hook up with that scion of Pennsylvania aristocracy with an olive up her ass? Her ancestors would probably have blackballed yours if they'd applied to join the golf club. You're so down-to-earth and family oriented. If you'd had children, you'd probably have fought over whether to keep them at home or send them to boarding school.'

‘I guess it's lucky we didn't.'

He felt a stab of regret as he said these words. Gabrielle's probing questions brought back a flood of memories and endless speculations about what could have been.

‘Was that what led to the break-up?'

‘What?'

‘Children – or rather the lack of them. Were you a George and Martha couple?'

‘Not by choice.'

‘That's what I mean. Neither were the original George and Martha. But the difference is that they
both
wanted children. Not having them was a source of mutual frustration and regret. I don't think it was like that with Charlotte.'

‘Maybe
I
was the one who didn't want kids?'

‘Are you pulling my leg? I've heard you talking about those camping trips with your nephews and impressing your nieces with magic tricks. I think I can read between the lines. You've
got it in you to be a great father. Was that what set you apart? You regretted not having children: she was quite happy that way.'

‘That might have been part of it, but the real problem was that I could never fulfil her sense of ambition.'

‘That's bullshit. You're
academically
ambitious.'

‘Well, thanks for that vote of confidence. But Charlotte thought ambition was something I lacked.'

‘What planet was she living on?'

‘I guess it's a question of how you
define
success, not how you measure it.'

‘Are we talking academic success or social success?'

‘Both. Charlotte measured success by how high you rise through the relevant hierarchy.'

‘Is there another way?'

‘I prefer to live by the motto of my old grammar school: “
Rather use than fame
”.'

‘
Rather use than fame?
That's kind of clever.'

‘It was the quality of my ambition rather than the quantity that set me apart from Charlotte.'

‘Now why don't I believe that?' asked Gabrielle, rolling over on to her back and looking up at the stars.

‘You tell me… Miss Sceptic.'

‘The fact that you had virtually
nothing
in common. It wasn't just your ambition. It was everything. You love the academic life. She liked the high life. Your world is the ivory tower. Hers was the salon. You're at your happiest when you're pushing forward the frontiers of knowledge and driving back the boundaries of ignorance. I got the impression that Charlotte was never happy except when she was shopping at Harrods or Bloomingdales.'

‘You're making it sound as if she was spend, spend, spend and I'm all work and no play.'

‘No, you know how to enjoy yourself. But you find pleasure in doing interesting things. I remember once seeing you teaching your nephews how to make a radio out of household items, using information you downloaded from the Internet.'

Daniel was thinking about this. Gabrielle's assessment had been remarkably incisive. He got his pleasure from the simple things in life and that was something that Charlotte never understood.

‘I guess it was the perennial conflict between the two modes of living: the
Having Mode
and the
Doing Mode
. Charlotte found happiness in luxury possessions and the company of well-bred but shallow people.'

There was silence for a while. Then Gabrielle turned back to Daniel and quietly said one word: ‘Sorry.'

‘For what?'

‘I didn't mean to open up an old wound.'

Daniel was silent for a while. Finally he spoke.

‘You know what the irony is? It was at a university function that we first met.'

‘What sort of function?'

‘I think one of her friends had made a big donation and was unveiling a plaque.'

‘So it was one of those awkward meeting points between academia and philanthropy, when scholarship and mammon pay mutual homage to one another, with a mixture of envy and guilt.'

‘You really are a cynic, aren't you, Gaby?' he said with a smile.

But she didn't answer. Sleep had finally engulfed her.

 

Gabrielle looked around her. They were closing in on her… closing in on all sides. The tracks, the scoop, the rumbling sound.

Bulldozers!

The bulldozers were closing in on her: north, south, east and west…

They had all points of the compass covered.

There was nowhere to run. It was too late. She was going to die. She was going to die today: crushed by these bulldozers that surrounded her.

‘No!' she screamed.

It was dark. She was in a cold sweat. She looked around struggling to gain her bearings.

Daniel too was awake and staring at her.

‘Are you all right?' he asked.

‘I guess. I think I was having a bad dream.'