The Alexander Cipher Page 0,86
Subaru into reverse and stomped on the gas. They zipped backward, turning in a crescent out onto the field; then Rick threw it into first and accelerated up through the gears. Gunfire cracked. Knox’s side-window shattered, and the windshield turned opaque. Rick punched out a viewing hole as he raced toward the track, then toward the Tanta road. Knox looked around, but their pursuers were finally lost in the darkness. Private security guards firing off guns would scarcely be keen to contact the authorities, but maybe they had colleagues who would come out looking for the Subaru. “We’d better go for the Jeep,” panted Knox.
“You think that’s wise? Shouldn’t we just lie low for a bit?”
Knox shook his head. “Kelonymus was constantly referred to as the holder of the secret. I want to know what that secret is. Five will get you fifty that the answer’s in that damned inscription from the lower chamber in Alexandria. The one in Demotic.”
“But I thought you didn’t know Demotic.”
“I don’t,” admitted Knox. “Which is why we need to go see a friend.”
“Ah! And where’s he, then?”
“Ever been to Farafra?”
“Farafra!” protested Rick. “But that’s halfway across Egypt!”
“Then we’ve no time to lose, have we?”
KAREEM’S EYES BULGED when Nessim unzipped his money belt and drew out a brick of fifty-dollar bills. He had never seen so much cash. He had never even imagined it possible. He watched, entranced, as Nessim counted out fifteen notes for Abdullah, then another fifteen, which he held tantalizingly out to Kareem. “Take us to the Jeep,” he said.
Kareem climbed in the back of the Freelander, whose smashed rear window was patched with plastic sheeting. It had started raining, making it harder for Kareem to give coherent directions in the unfamiliar landscape. He had never felt so scared in his life, or so excited. He was terrified that he had somehow made a gigantic mistake or that the Jeep’s owner might have returned for it in the past hour. And it wasn’t just the reward that Kareem stood to lose, he knew. One look was all it took to know that Nessim and his men would want someone to vent their frustrations on.
They reached the track and drove up it to the yard. They parked and trudged through the mud to the outbuilding’s steel door, then swung it open on its hinges. For a moment, Kareem saw nothing inside, and his heart bolted crazily, but then the tarp-covered Jeep came into view, and he swallowed convulsively with relief.
One of the men lifted up the tarpaulin to check the license plate. “It’s his, all right,” he announced.
“Good.” Nessim unzipped his belt again and counted out Kareem’s cash. “Now, get out of here,” he admonished him. “And don’t come back.”
Kareem nodded vigorously. He clutched the banknotes tight as he splashed off back down the track, the devil on his heels. He glanced around once to see Nessim passing out flashlights and handguns, then again to see him deploying the Freelander and his men for an ambush. Someone was clearly in mortal danger, but Kareem didn’t care. He felt exultant, his life finally about to begin.
IT HAD STARTED TO RAIN. Flurries swept through the broken windows and punctured windshield as Knox and Rick approached Tanta. “You want to wait it out?” asked Knox.
“Nah,” replied Rick, squinting ahead. “Shouldn’t last long.” He evidently knew his weather, for the squall passed quickly. They turned the heaters on full blast, deliciously warm against their sodden trousers. They cut south of Tanta and turned off the main road. “Where the hell is this place?” muttered Rick as they searched for the derelict farm.
“Just ahead,” said Knox, with more confidence than he felt. Their headlights lit up a young man tramping along the road toward them, a strange look on his face as he stared at Rick and Knox through the windshield. The visibility was so poor that they drove past the mouth of the track and had to reverse a little way to turn up it. Rainwater had filled the potholes; they kept lurching violently into them, their suspension creaking, headlights dancing on the trees and barns. Rick hunched forward over the wheel, peering intently ahead, crawling along.
Knox glanced at his friend. “What is it, mate?” he asked.
“That kid we passed,” muttered Rick. “He gave me a bad feeling.”
“Want to turn back?”
He shook his head. “We won’t get ten miles with the windshield like this; not once we get on the main roads.”
“Take it slow, then.”
“The fuck do