Chapter 4
Al-Jawf
Hassan ibn Aziz glanced in the vanity mirror at the two Irishmen, Sean Harris
and Patrick Murphy, seated in the back seat of the Mercedes. They were an unhappy
pair... they had been forced to lay low since the Paris bombing... no patience. Hassan
smiled.
"Thank you for coming, sir," said the driver. "It is better that you should speak
with Moustafa Kalil, than I should try to explain what I do not understand." The boy
fought the steering wheel as the car bounced along the camel track toward Jebel al-Taj
training camp and the drilling site beyond. When young Akim stretched his toes to
press the gas pedal, he couldn't see over the dash. It was a dilemma... press the gas
and go... see and stop. So they bounced through the desert heat, striking every rut and
boulder as they went.
After they had deposited the two tired, frustrated infidels at the camp's cinder
block administration center, Hassan tried to think of a polite way he could offer to
drive. Unfortunately, for Hassan's kidneys, there was none that would not insult
Akim's fragile manhood. On they jolted.
Finally, to the older man's immense relief, the car rattled to a stop next to the
concrete building that served as the foreman's office. Moustafa Kalil, sipping his
afternoon coffee, sat under the awning in front. "Ah...assálamu aláikum," Kalil said,
rising to greet his distinguished guest. "Please join me," he added, gesturing to the
shaded carpet and its inviting pillows.
"Shukran
"Tell me, Moustafa Kalil... do you, perhaps, have another car and driver that could return me to Al-Jawf?" Hassan asked in as delicate a manner as he could find.
"I think we might be able to arrange that," replied the other man, stifling a yawn, or was it a chuckle. "I fear Akim needs to grow a little more before he can become a reliable... no, I should say, a comfortable driver. He has not had a single accident... Hamdulilláh!... Thank God... since perching him on cushions has failed, I have tried to think of a way to provide him with a periscope." He waved a fly away from the small bowl of dates and picked a plump, brown specimen for himself.
They relaxed a while longer, speaking of wives and children, soccer and the latest troop movements into Chad, the successes and failures in the training camp. At last, ibn Aziz felt that propriety had been met. "So, Moustafa Kalil... you think you have hit granite... here.... at less than ten meters?" said ibn Aziz. "You're certain?"
"See for yourself," replied the drilling foreman, as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small bag with a handful of coarse sand, which he sprinkled in Hassan's palm. "It is granite... I am quite distressed. This was supposed to be an easy drill into the aquifer... a day or two... to provide water for the north end of the camp. Now it has ruined my drill bit and we are at a standstill."
Hassan could indeed see that the granules in his hand were granite, but he was baffled at their presence. "I can get you a diamond bit, but it will take a few days," he said. For a moment, he pondered the coarse particles. "This is going to sound insane," he said at last, "but do you think you could have hit the cap stone of a tomb?"
"A tomb?" repeated Moustafa, stroking his mustache. "Here? We're so far from anywhere... the Nile... an Egyptian tomb? Or Carthage? It's a long way, too."
"There was the Oracle of Amun at Siwa oasis... and... granite shouldn't be here at such a shallow depth," ibn Aziz emphasized. "I'll get you the bit, but I want to know how far down the granite extends.... Understand? And if it's seven meters or less, we go in with a backhoe and jack hammers."
< < + > >
Angel Island
Kym gazed at the page of her text book. She was no longer seeing letters and words, only black horizontal lines. It was a dismal day in early November, cold and pouring rain. She had decided to skip her only class to concentrate on getting ahead with her reading, but by two she couldn't focus any longer. She needed to take a walk, but outside was out of the question. Rain pelted the library's big bay window so hard that it sounded like hail. She closed her books, set them aside, and went to find her husband in his office.
"Derek," she sighed, "I'm tired of reading, and it just dawned on me that I've been living in this house for nearly a year now and I've never been in half the rooms."
"Honey," he said, raising his head from the pages spread out before him, "I'd give you the guided tour, but I've got to finish cross checking this inventory of the museum's latest acquisitions." Derek bent to pull a massive key ring from his desk's bottom drawer. "Here." He tossed her the jangling bundle. "Have fun... most are labeled. There are some rooms, I haven't been in for years... come to think of it... there could be a couple I've never been in." He smiled that enigmatic smile with its half raised eyebrow, and Kym knew that some whimsical memory had just flitted through his mind. "If you don't show up by six, I'll send out a search party.
"Remember... we have the mayor's reception for the Japanese cultural minister tonight... if this weather lets up."
< < + > >
Tanit
In the void, Tanit felt the molecules throb. The black waters that had been her only companion for eons rippled, quivering like a still beating heart placed upon her altar to shiver its life away. They spoke to her.
"Patience... the one who will fulfill you shall come. Grow strong for him," the waters murmured.
The man-creatures were coming. They were much closer, now. She could sense more than their minds. She could sense their warmth, their life's energy. Soon she would be able to touch their souls, and some would be her's. She knew that her becoming had begun.
< < + > >
Legacy House
Three hours later Kym had finished her tour of the west wing, the north wing, and the east wing. She had found broom closets the size of living rooms and offices for Luna Foundation staff that she had never realized existed. "Too bad I'm not wearing my pedometer," she said to herself. "I'll bet I've walked ten miles."
Where to now? With two hours left before dinner, she grabbed an apple from the kitchen. She peeked into the pantry to see if she could find any chips or crackers to go with her snack. Beyond the shelves holding the canned goods and sacks of rice and flour, she noticed a narrow door. Here's where. Kym opened the small door and was surprised to discover a spiral staircase. She flipped on the light and descended to find herself in the wine cellar facing rack after rack of dark bottles. She knew that there was another entrance somewhere in the far wall. Derek had brought her down here once by a door that was in the passage between the foyer and the dining room.
This is insane! Kym thought. Finally, after three wrong turns, she found the iron door she was seeking. It was locked. She looked at the key hole... definitely one of the old, old keys. She found the one she thought correct, but it took every ounce of strength she possessed to turn it. She pulled the door open to pitch blackness. Her hand searched for a light switch, but found none. Then she saw a flashlight laying on one of the barrels. Though dim, it still worked. Kym shone the weak light down a short, rock cut tunnel. This is insane. How many passages and rooms can one house possibly have. Curiosity tugged at her. Well, why not?
The door at the opposite end was unlocked. Kym reached around the corner hoping for a light switch, which she found. "Let there be light," she said. She was pleased to see that the room looked familiar... it was the main cellar, where everything from still crated museum purchases to long disused saddles and even a rusted suit of armor were stored. Kym plopped herself in a muslin draped chair to finish her apple and crackers. As she munched, her eyes roamed across the dust covered clutter. One day this room deserved a thorough exploration and cleaning. Suddenly she noticed that something was odd about the far wall. It looked as though a door had been sealed... the stonework didn't match.
She wrapped her apple core in a scrap of old newspaper and put it in her sweater pocket. The flash light was giving out, but she shook it as she walked over to the odd place in the wall. She shone the light on the stones. One small spot reflected the light back. She bent for a closer look at what seemed to be metal disk the size of a quarter embedded in the stone. An indentation in the metal looked like an L, identical to the letter on Derek's ring. How curious. She paused at the thought of how many skeletons might, literally, be in the Rayne family closet. Kym glanced at her watch... one hour left. She'd better hurry if she wanted to finish the grand tour.
As she turned away to find the door that she knew led up to an alcove off the foyer, she spotted yet another iron door. There she found stairs. Thinking it might be yet another way up into the foyer or the kitchen, she climbed. One hundred steps later, she was still climbing. When, at last, Kym came to a door, she opened it to find that she was in what she thought must be a portion of the third floor. It reminded her of a Cubistic painting by Marcel Duchamp that she had seen somewhere, or of one of the abstract paintings Cassie was always bringing home... of staircases that go on forever, leading everywhere and nowhere. For a moment Kym flirted with the princess in the castle fantasy... or, was it Dorothy lost in the Wicked Witch's fortress?
She stepped into a short corridor with threadbare flowered carpeting. Kym wasn't sure where she was. She had lost her bearings. She walked down the hallway and tried the door. It was locked. She found the key, labeled "nsy," unlocked the door and pulled it open. More stairs... this time descending. She went halfway down, until she could see the corridor below. It was the hallway that led to the library and the master and guest suites. She was obviously on the third floor, but this portion seemed to be unattached to the remainder of that floor.
She returned to the corridor above. The first room was unlocked. She opened the door to what seemed to be a servant's room. The next door led to a small bathroom, while the third opened to a small, but complete kitchen, which reminded her of her grandmother's... white enameled refrigerator and gas stove... yellow floral linoleum. It seemed untouched since perhaps the 1950's. Maybe, these were the old servants' quarters.
Kym crossed the hallway. These doors were all locked. She searched for the keys, which were not labeled. The lock to the first room was stiff and she broke the key. More careful and patient, she managed to unlock the next door. Her eyes sparkled when she saw a crib in a corner of the room. Nothing had been covered and the place was coated with dust. She wandered, brushing away cobwebs and looking at the toys scattered on the floor, blocks, a red metal fire engine, a Raggedy Ann. There was an exquisitely painted hobby horse... a moth eaten giant panda was tucked in a battered rocking chair. Two small easels with newsprint tablets stood beside the window. One had a finger painting of a red sailboat on blue water... in childish script, it was signed "Ingrid." The other had only large multicolored block letters that read "DERK." Below, in faded pencil in an adult hand she could make out "May 1956." She smiled... not bad for two and a half. Turning away, she pulled on the roller blind, which snapped up with a bang that made her jump. It was dark outside and still pouring, but she got the impression that the windows were facing south. She must be nearly over her own bedroom... highly practical, Kym realized.... It made sense, all things considered.
She opened the door to her right, which she guessed was the room whose door now held a broken key. Inside was a girl's pink canopied bed covered by a menagerie of stuffed animals shrouded in cobwebs. In a book case on one wall was a collection of dolls, from every imaginable place. All had gift tags tied to their wrists: from Papa - Xmas, 1949; from Papa - Happy 10th birthday; from Papa - Xmas, 1963.
Kym wondered if Derek knew about this... surely he must. She hurried out... she had to find him.
* * *
Kym burst into her husband's office at full speed. "Derek... come with me," she demanded, pulling him up from his chair.
"What? It's nearly time for dinner," he complained.
Dragging him through the library and down the corridor to the staircase, she asked, "How come you never told me what was up there?"
"I just never thought of it," he replied. "I haven't been up there since Mother took us to Amsterdam... I can't even remember what it looked like... just a wonderful old rocking horse."
"It's still there," said his wife. "Your father locked it when you left, but every Christmas and birthday, he put a present in there. I saw the dolls in Ingrid's room and I'll bet yours has something too."
Derek allowed her to lead him up the stairs... it was like stepping into a shadowy memory. To his surprise he remembered the wine colored roses on the carpet. The smell was the same... only dustier. He gave the rocking horse a push to set it in creaky motion. "I remember this bear... I was terrified of it when Papa brought it home... it doesn't seem so big now," he said, pounding the dust off its head. He wandered in silence for several minutes. At last, he returned to Kym. "Liefje, love... would you like to redecorate up here? We might need it one day." He smiled at her. "...after you get your degree, of course."
Kym's eyes danced. Though his wife had never said much about it, Derek knew she wanted a big family, like her own. She took a step toward her husband, grasped the front of his shirt, and pulled him down to her level. "We may need it sooner than that, if we're not careful," she whispered as she put her arms around his neck. Derek picked her up and soon she found herself on the nanny's dusty bed.
"I wonder what Nanny Ross would think of this," he panted as the bed squeaked beneath them. "I'll have to send the mayor a note of apology along with an excellent bottle of wine."
| CHAPTER 5 |
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