Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ginger lifted her head as Sarah came back into the hotel room Sarah had acquired for them on the outskirts of Abusir.
The sun was setting, the sky a dazzling spectacle that she couldn’t appreciate.
The room wasn’t much more than a bed and two simple wooden chairs, but it was better than the hovel where they’d taken shelter in the morning. Especially for someone as sick as Jack.
She could barely think straight. She whispered a prayer for Noah and clutched Jack’s hand for strength. She’d been sitting beside him while Sarah was gone.
“Did you burn it?” Ginger asked as Sarah sat in the chair.
The trace of ash on her trousers confirmed it. “I found a rubbish bin. Lit it all on fire.” She sank down further against the back of the chair, kicking her shoes off.
“Good. I don’t think we could have salvaged them.” Ginger had removed all of Jack’s clothing and shaved his face and head since he appeared to have been afflicted with lice on top of the malaria.
While Sarah had been gone, she’d washed Jack and dressed him in Noah’s clothes. They’d managed to catch the gelding eventually, which had been a stroke of luck as it had Noah’s bags strapped to it. Jack slept now, looking younger and sicker with his head and face shaved.
She wished Jack was awake. He’d offer his teasing smiles and jokes.
And hope. Without him they had no way of finding the concession.
But malaria could be deadly serious, especially when a patient was left untreated.
She’d seen too many patients die of malaria to not be worried.
His lack of awareness was a sign of how far he’d succumbed to the disease.
She doubted they’d administered any form of medical care, given the state she had found him in.
Ginger had given him a three-grain dose of quinine as soon as they’d stopped the horse.
She’d given him three more doses since then.
Thank goodness she’d brought her medical kit.
Swallowing the tears in her throat, she said, “Should we make a plan to go back for Noah?”
Sarah had closed her eyes and was half asleep. She must be exhausted. Yawning, she said, “And if we show up without the location for the concession?”
Ginger raked her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know. All I know is I have to try to help my husband.”
Sarah stood and approached Jack. She sat on the bed beside him and shook his shoulder. Jack grunted, then blinked toward her. “Jack, we need you. Noah said they gave you a code of some sort. Do you remember it?”
Jack mumbled and flopped onto his stomach.
Sarah went over to their bags. She lifted her canteen and poured some water onto her hand. Then she splashed it onto Jack’s face and patted his cheek. “Get up, Darby. We need you.”
Ginger frowned. The familiarity with which Sarah seemed to address Jack was curious.
But, then again, she’d admitted freely to knowing Jack.
Not everything had to be a secret or a mystery, but Ginger had spent so many months surrounded by events shrouded in deception that her mind seemed to go there naturally.
Sarah shook Jack again. “You want to save Noah Benson, don’t you? I need the code Osborne gave you.”
Blinking blearily, Jack opened one eye, just barely. “Notepad.”
Would Jack remember anything with accuracy in this state? His fever seemed to have improved since she’d started him on quinine—but enough for something this important?
Ginger dug through Noah’s belongings and found a notepad and pencil. She handed these to Sarah, who set the pencil in Jack’s hand. She slid the notepad under his palm.
Jack made a few scribbles, then the pencil jerked downward, uselessly.
This is hopeless.
“Can we use smelling salts? Anything that will wake him more?” Sarah asked hopefully.
“I can try.” Ginger found a container in her medical kit. “I can’t remember the last time I needed these.” She uncapped it and held the bottle under Jack’s nostrils.
He drew in a sharp breath, then opened his reddened eyes more fully. He looked at Ginger, then Sarah, then closed his eyes. “What?” he asked.
“The code, Jack.” Ginger put the salts under his nose once again.
He opened his eyes, drawing his face back. “Stop it,” he said through gritted teeth. Then he lifted the pencil. Scribbling once again, he wrote a few lines of text, then set the pencil down. It rolled off the notepad and onto the floor.
Ginger’s heart fell. What he’d written looked like complete gibberish.
Sarah lifted the notepad, then stiffened. She lowered the paper to her side.
“What is it?” Ginger asked. Jack let out a soft snore.
“It’s my code.” Sarah’s eyes were wide as she dropped back into the chair with a dazed expression.
Ginger bent beside her. “And you can read what it says?”
“Yes—they’re Greek letters written in Egyptian Coptic.
From that translation, it’s a standard Playfair cipher.
I always used the same key. Hopefully Paul did the same.
Otherwise, I might face a bit of a battle.
” She brushed her fingertips over the writing as though indulging in a sentimental moment.
No wonder they had needed Jack. A cipher written in an ancient text? He was a known expert in that sort of thing. “You know Coptic?” Ginger gave her an impressed look.
“I started studying it as a young girl. It fascinated me. I always dreamed of being an Egyptologist, so the language, both past and present, was a part of my studies from the start. I taught Paul after we’d married. Do you think Paul intended this cipher for me?”
Ginger weighed her words. Despite Sarah’s attempts at stoicism, she had a feeling that her outward indifference to Paul’s fate was an act.
Paul had scorned her, after all. “Noah said they caught him with a cipher. Perhaps he knew he was being followed and wanted to send you some message so that you could find the paperwork.”
“That makes sense. Otherwise, why write anything down?” Sarah drummed her fingertips against the paper. “Let me get a pencil. I can work my way through this.”
“Red.” Jack murmured his nickname for Ginger and she left Sarah’s side to feel Jack’s forehead.
Jack barely opened his eyes to look at her. “I didn’t dream you up.”
She smiled, the sound of his voice so welcome that her eyes grew teary. “No, I’m right here, Jack.”
“And Noah?”
A lump formed in her throat. “We’re working to get him here too. Osborne has him.”
Jack moistened his lips, closing his eyes as he struggled. “Not here …”
Ginger pulled up another chair beside Jack.
She slipped her hand into his as he grew silent again.
Even though she hadn’t known Jack for long, she loved him dearly.
And she knew how much Noah loved him. If anything happened to him, Noah would never forgive himself for not having gone back for him weeks earlier.
Ginger struggled to stay awake. Even if Sarah figured out where the concession paperwork was hidden, she doubted Osborne would simply exchange Noah for it. Most likely, he’d try to kill them all, once their usefulness was at an end.
And, according to what he’d hinted at during their conversations, he had every reason to want to kill Noah.
Why, oh why, had Noah offered himself up? And what condition would Noah be in when they went tonight? There were so many things Osborne could do beside kill him.
She shuddered, unable to continue the line of thought. Her imagination was too vivid, aided by gruesome injuries she’d seen during the war.
Sarah’s voice cut into Ginger’s thoughts. “The text says, ‘In the hidden tombs in the city of sand, wind, and stone, where the lady once slept. I lie beneath.’”
Ginger looked over at Sarah and raised a brow. “Do you know what that means?”
“It honestly could be several cities, but given that Paul was in Malta before he was captured, Valletta makes sense as the location.” Sarah’s face was drawn as she set down her pencil.
Tense silence crept into the room.
Valletta was several days’ journey from here and by sea. They wouldn’t be able to simply hand over the concession. Or confirm its location. Which meant that Osborne would be reluctant to release Noah.
Ginger moistened her lips with the lip of her tongue. “And the tomb?”
“Just outside Valletta there’s a famed hypogeum—an ancient underground tomb.
The one at ?al Saflieni is one of the best preserved from prehistoric times.
It’s an archeologist’s dream, purportedly.
” She pulled a few books from her rucksack.
“I have a suspicion I know what it is. Fortunately, I brought those books with me from home. They might help us with the last part.”
She sat once again, flicking through pages.
Ginger glanced at Jack’s face. “I imagine as he got sicker it was probably harder for him to keep his silence about what he’d deciphered.”
Sarah pressed her lips together. “Keeping silent while being so sick would have been damn near impossible. He did a good job. And now we know why they needed to kidnap me. And, if I’m right, Jack wouldn’t have been able to find the paperwork to the concession even if he’d told them the truth.”
Sarah lifted the book in her hand and turned it to Ginger, waving it.
“These are the excavation notes of Father Emmanuel Magri—he was the archeologist in charge of the initial excavations at the Hypogeum in Malta. He was Paul’s friend for many years and sent these notes to Paul long ago. And they’re not in English either.”
Ginger laughed. “Are all archeologists so particular with their excavation notes?”