The Exodus Quest

THIRTY-FIVE
I

Knox had rarely felt so isolated as he did walking along the footpath. The collective ill will from Farooq, Peterson and all the young archaeologists was palpable. But he strove to look confident all the same, scanning the rocky ground as he went, hoping to see something, anything. But he reached the fence without success. 'It's here,' said Knox. 'It's somewhere here.'

Farooq glared daggers at him. 'Somewhere here?'

He nodded south. 'That way a little.'

'I've had enough of this.'

'It's the truth. I've got photographs.'

'Photographs?' Farooq seized upon this. 'Why didn't you say?'

'They've disappeared,' admitted Knox.

'Of course they have!' scoffed Farooq. 'Of course they damned-well have!'

'Augustin saw them.'

'And I'm supposed to believe him, am I?'

'I swear it. My friend Gaille emailed them to me.'

'The one who just got taken hostage, you mean? How very convenient!'

'But they'll still be on her computer,' pointed out Knox. 'And that didn't get taken hostage. Call Hermopolis. Get them to check.'

'I've got a better idea,' sneered Farooq. 'I'll put you on the train down there so you can bring them back yourself.'

'You have to listen to me. She's got-'

The punch caught him high on his cheek. Saliva sprayed from his mouth as he staggered back against the fence. 'I have to listen, do I?' yelled Farooq, grabbing Knox by his hair, dragging him furiously back to his car, twisting and tugging viciously to make sure it hurt.

'Will that be it, officer?' called out Peterson from behind. 'Or should I expect you again tomorrow? I can have tea ready, if you let me know what time.'

Farooq's cheeks blazed but he didn't look around. He bundled Knox into the car with unnecessary force. 'Are you trying to make a fool of me?' he hissed, as Hosni pulled away. 'Is that what this is about?'

'I'm telling you the truth. There's something here.'

'There's nothing here!' shouted Farooq. 'Nothing! You hear me?'

They bumped their way out of the site, the car seething with silent rage, back onto the rural lanes to the causeway across Lake Mariut. Knox sank deep into despondency. His future looked unutterably bleak. He'd made an implacable enemy of Farooq. In half an hour or so, he'd be locked back up in his cell, powerless to help Gaille. And who could say when next he'd be let out?

A loud thump on the road ahead, the squeal of locked tyres. Horns blared, traffic slowed. 'What now?' snarled Farooq, as Hosni put on the brakes.

'Some idiot lorry driver.'

The other side of the central reservation, oncoming traffic slowed to rubberneck. A black-and-gold motorbike stopped by the low dividing wall, engine humming like a bumblebee, two men astride in black leathers and crash helmets. The pillion passenger tapped the driver on his shoulder, pointed out Knox sitting prisoner in the back of the police car. He unzipped his jacket and reached inside.

A sudden memory of the night before, Farooq warning him about Omar's family, how they blamed him for his death, their intent and capability. A perfect place for an ambush, this. He reacted without even thinking, throwing open the door while the car was still moving, leaping out, hitting the tarmac hard, crashing against the low wall of the central reservation, staggering dizzily to his feet.

Across the other side, the motorbike cut back into the stream of traffic, sped harmlessly away. A false alarm. Hosni screeched to a halt down the road. Farooq jumped out, gun drawn, face dark with fury. Knox held up his hands, but Farooq raised his gun all the same, aimed, braced to fire. Knox turned and fled across the central reservation, dancing between oncoming traffic, using it as a shield, then down the side of the causeway between two startled fishermen who grabbed their rods and ran. A ramp of sharp wet rocks sloped down into the lake, refracting beneath the surface to make it look impossibly shallow. A shot cracked out behind. He took a deep breath and dived into the dark lake waters.