The Alexander Cipher Page 0,73
him. It reached a point where I couldn’t guarantee his safety anymore. And if anything happened to him… you can imagine. I needed him gone, but he refused to listen to me. So I looked to someone he would listen to.”
“My father,” said Gaille numbly.
“He was a close friend of the Knoxes, and I knew him, too. I asked him to come speak with me. He was reluctant at first, since Mallawi had been about to start, as you know. But I assured him it was a matter of life and death. He flew in and we struck a deal: he’d take Knox away and keep him quiet, while I’d put out the word that Knox wasn’t to be touched. Your father visited Knox’s hotel, where Knox apparently gave him a speech about standing up to tyrants. Your father listened politely and slipped knockout drops into his retsina. By the time he woke, they were both captive on a slow boat to Port Said, and your father had time to talk sense into him. And that, Ms. Bonnard, is why I feel badly about your falling-out with your father. It would never have happened, you see, had I not asked him to intervene for me.”
IN THE RAS EL-SUDR BAR, Rick nodded slowly as he digested Knox’s account of his feud with the Dragoumises and how he’d come to Egypt with Richard Mitchell. “And here I was thinking you were just another quiet Yank,” he said. “Do you have any other international gangsters on your trail, or is that the lot?”
“That’s the lot—as far as I know, at least. But guess who I saw this afternoon?”
“This man Dragoumis?”
“His son. Nicolas.”
“And he’s as bad?”
“Worse. Much worse. I don’t much like the father, but you’ve got to admire what he’s achieved. And he has principles, too. When he gives his word, he keeps it. The son’s just a wanker with an inheritance, you know?”
“All too well. So you figure this desert ‘lynching’ was the son getting his own back?”
“Probably.”
“And you’re not going to take that lying down, are you?”
“No.”
Rick grinned. “Cracking. So what’s our plan?”
“Our plan?”
“Come on, mate, you’re outnumbered. You could use some help. And Sharm’s dead, like I say.”
Knox nodded. “If you’re serious, it would be fantastic.”
“Absolutely. So what’s our first move?”
“We head up to Tanta.”
“Tanta?”
“Yes,” said Knox, checking his watch. “And we’re on a bit of a deadline, too, so how about I explain when we get there?”
DRAGOUMIS LED GAILLE through to his dining room. It was a vast space, with a long walnut table running down its middle. Two places had been set at one end, lit by candles. A servant was waiting by a trolley to serve their food, a dark and meaty stew swimming with unfamiliar spices.
“Forgive my simple tastes,” said Dragoumis as he began to eat. “I have never developed a refined palate. If it’s haute cuisine you enjoy, you must dine with my son.”
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” said Gaille, prodding at her meal uncertainly with her fork. “Excuse me, Mr. Dragoumis, but I’m curious. Did you fly me all this way just to talk about my father?”
“No,” said Dragoumis. “I flew you here to ask for your help.”
“My help?” she frowned. “With what?”
Dragoumis leaned forward. Candlelight struck his eyes obliquely, making his dark-brown irises appear flecked with gold. “This so-called Alexander cipher talks of a tomb in Siwa filled with goods fit for the son of Ammon.”
“But… how do you know about that?”
Dragoumis waved her question impatiently aside. “The cipher also says that the shield bearers killed themselves before Ptolemy had a chance to… learn from them where this tomb was.”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever heard of such a tomb? A tomb in Siwa filled with goods fit for a man like Alexander?”
“No.”
“Then it remains to be discovered?”
“If it ever existed.”
“It existed,” stated Dragoumis. “It exists. Tell me, Ms. Bonnard, would it not be something to discover it? Can you imagine what goods might be considered fit for such a man, the greatest conqueror in history? The weapons he was given from the Trojan wars? His personal copy of Homer, annotated by Aristotle? Be honest: do you not yearn to be the one to find it? Fame. Wealth. Admiration. You’d never again need to ask yourself in the dark hours of the morning what your purpose is upon this earth.”
“You misunderstand how these things work,” said Gaille. “Ibrahim Beyumi is reporting all this to the secretary general of the SCA. What happens next will be up