The office was busy when a six-page fax arrived at the Egyptian Ministry of Health. The message was picked up from the machine by a very junior member of staff who, upon recognizing its importance, handed it over to one of his superiors, who in turn handed it over to another. It ended up in the hands of a sixty-three-year-old white-haired wiry man, with a frail body, but a piercing, determined look in his eyes. That man was Farooq Mahdi, the Minister of Health, and he was now studying the document.
The fax described certain events in England and warned of the threat posed by two people: an Englishman called Daniel Klein and an Austrian citizen called Gabrielle Gusack. The document went on to say that both of them were highly respected academics and that they were believed to be travelling in the company of the Vice Minister of Culture, Akil Mansoor.
However, the document took great pains to emphasize that there was no suggestion that Akil Mansoor was in any way, shape or form aware of the threat posed by these two individuals. Indeed, it was because of his ignorance of the danger they posed that he was himself vulnerable to them and it was for this reason all the more imperative that he be warned and that they be apprehended as quickly as possible.
But where was Akil Mansoor now? And where were Daniel Klein and Gabrielle Gusack, for that matter?
A few minutes later, Mahdi’s secretary had tracked down the information that Mansoor had flown with Klein and Gusack to Luxor with the intention of visiting the Valley of the Kings. But because the secretary had said it was urgent, Mansoor’s office had kindly given his mobile number.
The minister wasn’t sure if there was coverage in the area where Mansoor was, but he decided to try. The call went straight to voicemail, and a voice told him that the number could not receive calls for the time being and invited him to leave a message.
The Minister of Health left an urgent message for Mansoor, hoping that he would hear it soon.