The Sudden Appearance of Hope

Chapter 21

Back to the hotel; a hasty pack, a premature checking-out. Has the time come to risk a plane? I look up Sharm el-Sheikh airport; not impossible to smuggle diamonds out, but what if mugurski71 is watching?

What if, what if, what if; the perpetual mantra of the thief on the run.

I count my breaths, looking for that fine line between sensible caution and unwise terror. It is perfectly possible for a man to hold a picture of my face in his hand, and look on my features, and know that the two are the same. In the future, he will remember only holding the picture, not my face, but it is the present tense we need worry about.

Standing in the hotel foyer, I ask the receptionist to call me a taxi.

“Where to?”

Nowhere to go, except the airport.

“I’m catching a cruise ship,” I lied. “I’m going to sail up the Suez.”

Doesn’t matter if she believes me or not; she’ll forget the lie as easily as the truth. The important thing to disguise is digital records. Let any calls recorded to a taxi company hear only reference to the sea.

“Ten minutes,” she said.

I smiled, and walked out into the smiting sun, to find a cab for myself.

The smell of air freshener, the sound of Arab pop, undulations and the tapping of the drum, a mat of wooden beads down the backs of the seats, the high scrape of the violin and twang of electric keys.

Where to? asked the driver.

The airport, I replied.

A nowhere building in the sand. Mountains behind, dust-yellow all around. They were thinking of adding another terminal, extending the runway, as people flocked to the sea. ! Bienvenue! ! !

I bought a ticket to Istanbul, waited in the departures lounge, watching people, watching security, waiting.

Quietly terrifying, going through customs.

I was tempted just to wear the necklace, but no; still too many images of the stolen jewels floating about. Ridiculous plans floated through my mind; a diamond in my shoe, swallowed diamonds in my stomach, in my pockets, in my coat, in the back of my mobile phone where a battery should be… but no. Once a customs inspector finds one diamond, they’ll start looking for them all. Best to just brave it out, and rely on memory failure should I need to run.

Nearly every courier and mule caught crossing a border, is caught because they look afraid.

I stand in the lady’s bathroom and paint a picture of who I want to be. Eyeshadow the colour of the desert at sunset; a smile to charm — weary from travel, wry at the thought of distances yet to be covered, but happy to be going home, relieved and relaxed, a body warmed in the Egyptian sun.

I am not Hope Arden.

I am not afraid.

(My parents would be ashamed of me, if they could see me now.)

I straighten my back, and head towards the border.