Chapter Eleven
The Nile Ritz-Carlton was a twelve-floor oasis of welcoming luxury.
Gabriela’s room overlooked the Nile and Gezira Island.
The Egyptian Museum and Tahrir Square were just a short walk away.
And the pyramid complex and the Grand Egyptian Museum in Giza were thirty-seven minutes away if you were the only car on the road.
All other times, it took an hour or longer in heavy traffic.
Gabriela met Rafer at the breakfast buffet.
“What’s the plan for the day?” he asked.
“After breakfast I’m going across the street to the Egyptian Museum. I got in touch with an acquaintance before we left London, and I’m meeting him at ten. He’s an Egyptian scholar specializing in the Eighteenth Dynasty. I’m hoping he can give me some information on the golden coffin.”
“Sarcophagus,” Rafer said.
“Only in Harley’s eyes.” She looked around. “Where is he?”
“He’s sleeping in,” Rafer said. “Don’t you think it’s weird that he insured the whatever-it-is with so little information?”
“Not that weird,” Gabriela said. “Harley’s skill set has always been to do what he’s told, not ask questions, and look boyishly handsome while doing it. It’s gotten him two degrees, a bank presidency, and countless nights with married women.”
“He had a good run,” Rafer said.
“I have a bad feeling about his bank.”
“Let me count the reasons,” Rafer said. “Murder, attempted kidnapping, and the big one… accusing you of being an accomplice.” He topped off his coffee. “Am I part of the morning meet-and-greet?”
“No. I think he’ll feel more comfortable talking to just me, but you can walk over with me if you want to see the museum. It opens at nine o’clock.”
“Is there anything worth seeing? My understanding is that everything was moved to the new Grand Egyptian Museum in Giza.”
“Not everything,” Gabriela said. “And even without artifacts, the building itself is historically important. It’s the oldest archaeological museum in the Middle East. It was built in 1901 and houses the largest collection of pharaonic antiquities in the world.”
“Nothing excites me more than a historically important building. Second only to a day walking through a museum.”
“What about the mummies?”
“That’s tempting,” Rafer said. “Mummies are always fun.”
They left the hotel, crossed Wasim Hasan, and walked through the garden to the museum entrance.
“Who are you meeting?” Rafer asked.
“His name is Jabari Katib. He teaches at one of the universities and he’s helping to arrange a temporary exhibit here.
He said he would be working on the ground floor, first room on the right.
” Gabriela purchased two tickets and gave one to Rafer.
“Last time I was here the mummies were on the second floor. I’ll meet you outside, in the garden, when I’m done. ”
Jabari Katib was an inch or two shorter than Gabriela. His black hair was close cropped and curly, and his face was weathered from years of working on desert digs. Gabriela thought he looked to be in his sixties but was probably younger. He smiled when he saw her.
“This is a good surprise,” he said. “Is this business or did you miss the sand and our good Egyptian coffee?”
“It’s business, but I did miss the coffee. The sand not so much. I’m looking for a coffin that belonged to Tut’s brother.”
“Smenkhkare?”
“No. The other brother.”
Jabari went silent for a couple beats. “You know something,” he finally said.
“I know it’s missing.”
“No one is supposed to know, but of course this is your business. You must be working for the bank that insured the coffin.”
“Actually, I’m working for a concerned private party.”
“We should go out to the garden to talk about this,” Jabari said. “It will be more secure.”
Gabriela followed him outside and they sat on a bench by the fountain.
“This coffin belonged to a potential half brother,” Jabari said.
“It’s a fairly recent find, and not a lot is known about the coffin or the mummy.
Testing suggests that Akhenaten might have been the father, but the mother is unknown.
Age at the time of death is thought to be late teens.
The mummy and the wooden sarcophagus weren’t in good shape when they were discovered, but the inner coffin, which was in the shape of the mummy, was perfect. ”
“Tomb raiders?”
“Beetles and inept mummifiers.”
“Does this potential half brother have a name?”
“Not yet. The director of the dig named him Brendan after Brendan Fraser. The director is a big fan of American movies, and his favorite movie of all time is The Mummy. He has a horrifying poster advertising the movie in his office.”
“The one with the howling mummy face?”
“Yes!” Jabari said. “It is terrifying.”
“Why isn’t this brother named?”
“The area around the find is still being excavated. The burial chamber was small and without any other artifacts. It’s possible that the sarcophagus was moved, for whatever reason, and forgotten.”
“Do you know anything about the theft itself? Was Brendan’s coffin taken from this museum?”
“It was in transport. It became part of a traveling exhibit. It was in the Metropolitan Museum in New York for three weeks and then it was flown back to Egypt along with the other pieces. It was put on the plane in New York, but it didn’t arrive here in Cairo.”
“Did the plane make any stops?”
“No,” Jabari said. “It was a direct flight.”
“Was anything else taken?”
“No. The other pieces were small and very interesting, but Brendan’s coffin was the most valuable.”
“Why was it so valuable when so little is known about Brendan?”
“It’s solid gold. Essentially, the equivalent to Tut’s inner coffin.
This is a puzzle because gold is usually reserved for pharaohs and sometimes high-ranking members of their family.
Brendan isn’t mentioned anywhere as being an important member of the royal family, but his coffin was exquisite.
So, it’s worth its weight in gold, but it’s also potentially a missing piece of Egyptian royalty. Right now, it’s an intriguing mystery.”
Okay, so here I am sitting on a bench in Egypt, waiting for my ex-husband to get done looking at mummies, Gabriela thought. I just found the Rosetta Stone, and now I’m seriously thinking about how to find Brendan’s golden coffin. I’m living in Bizarroland.
Rafer walked out of the building and sat beside Gabriela.
“That was fast,” Gabriela said. “Did you find the mummies?”
“Turns out they moved most of the mummies to other museums, but upstairs they have Thuya and Yuya and some animal mummies.”
“You don’t get to see that every day.”
“There were a bunch of cats and baboons,” Rafer said. “The cats were okay, but the baboons and monkeys freaked me out. I’m going to have nightmares. You’re going to have to sleep with me to calm me down.”
“Nice try, but no.”
“Worth a shot,” Rafer said. “How did it go with What’s-his-name?”
“Jabari. He was helpful. The stolen coffin is solid gold. It’s similar to Tut’s inner coffin, so it probably weighs around two hundred forty pounds and measures about seventy-four by twenty by twenty inches. It belongs to a guy named Brendan.”
“Who?”
“They don’t know who, so they named him Brendan.”
“That makes sense,” Rafer said.
“Why?”
“Brendan Fraser. The Mummy. One of the greatest movies ever made. Spoiler: The mummy wasn’t a nice guy. He was angry.”
Gabriela nodded in agreement. The mummy was definitely angry. “The coffin was part of a traveling exhibit. It was placed on a plane in New York, and when the plane landed in Cairo there was no coffin. Nonstop flight.”
“Did Jabari have any idea where it is now?”
“No. He didn’t have a grip on that part.”
“And you?”
“Not a clue,” Gabriela said.
“Boy, I’m glad finding the coffin is your responsibility and not mine. Good luck with this one.”
Gabriela thought if it was possible to divorce a man twice, she’d sign up.
“I’m going back to my room,” Gabriela said. “I need information on the plane that was supposed to bring the coffin here.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Rafer said. “You should research the plane. And I’m going to get in some pool time while you’re researching.”
Gabriela stopped work to answer a knock on her door.
“Room service,” Rafer said, handing her a bag. “Have you had lunch?”
“No,” she said. “I was going to order something.”
She emptied the bag on the desk. Egyptian flatbread, a jar of peanut butter, bananas, a pack of Oreos, two cans of cream soda, and a knife that looked like hotel cutlery.
“The perfect lunch,” Gabriela said. “Where did you get the peanut butter?”
“Got it from a guy selling stuff off a donkey cart. I think it might be black market. Got the Oreos at the airport. You never know when you’ll need an Oreo.”
His hair was still damp from the pool, and his face was a little flushed from the sun.
He was wearing a T-shirt that spanned his biceps and clung to his abs and Gabriela thought he looked better than the Oreos.
And that was saying a lot because she had a real weakness for Oreos.
She tore off a piece of the flatbread, covered the piece with peanut butter, and put a slice of banana on top of it.
“What did you find out?” Rafer asked, bypassing the peanut butter and going straight for the Oreos.
“The golden coffin, along with the rest of the antiquities on loan, was put on a cargo flight,” Gabriela said.
“A security officer from the Met watched the antiquities get loaded, and a curator from the Egyptian Museum plus someone from the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities watched the cargo get unloaded. The golden coffin was crated with special markings.”
“Have you talked to the curator?”
“Not yet. He’s working from home today. I got his home address from Jabari. I thought I would talk to him after lunch.”
“Anything else going on?”
“This morning I found another AirTag. It was tucked into my messenger bag again. There are two possible times it could have been planted. Either when I went to breakfast yesterday or else when I was at the museum this morning. Both times I left my messenger bag in my room.”
“Someone got into your room and planted the AirTag?”
“I don’t know how else it could have gotten into my bag,” Gabriela said.
“Do you still have the AirTag?”
“Yes. I’m going to carry it with me and see who follows me around.”
There was one Oreo left. Gabriela broke it in half and gave half to Rafer. “Where’s Harley?”
“He’s getting a massage and a pedicure.”
“That should keep him out of trouble for a while.”
“Where does the curator live? Are you renting a car?”
Gabriela screwed the lid back onto the peanut butter jar.
“The curator lives near Attaba market, and I’m not driving a rental.
We can get a cab that will stay with us all day.
” She grabbed her messenger bag and took her key card off the sideboard.
“Driving in Cairo is a death wish. Especially for visitors. All the signs are in Arabic and GPS is sketchy, so you really have no way of knowing where you’re going.
There isn’t a single car in the city without at least one dent.
It’s considered a disgrace to use a directional signal.
People drive without lights at night, and half the roads aren’t paved…
even in good neighborhoods. And people walk on the road.
So, it’s easy to hit a pedestrian or someone on a scooter.
And if, God forbid, you’re in an accident, there’s no exchange of insurance cards.
There’s a lot of yelling and negotiation, and it’s especially awkward if no one speaks English. ”
“And you know all this firsthand? I can’t believe you’re passing up all this fun and hiring a taxi.”
They left the room, took the elevator to the lobby, and went outside, where cabs were lined up. Gabriela looked in at the first cabdriver and asked if he spoke English.
“Most definitely,” he said. “I speak good English. My name is Jim.”
“I need a cab for the day,” Gabriela said. “What would you charge for the day?”
“Not much,” he said. “I give you good rate.”
“How much?”
“Hundred dollars.”
“Twenty,” Gabriela said.
“For this fine car you must pay more.”
“This is a fifteen-year-old Nissan Sunny that’s missing hubcaps, only has one headlamp, and has its whole right rear side bashed in.”
“Yes,” he said. “Almost like new.”
They haggled for a few minutes, then settled on $35, and Gabriela and Rafer got in.
“The first stop is near Attaba market,” Gabriela said.
“Not far but much traffic,” Jim said, pulling away from the curb. “Nice place to live if you don’t have to drive anywhere.”
Within minutes they were in gridlocked traffic. Sidewalks were packed with crowds of people that spilled over onto the road. The five-story apartment buildings were all various shades of tan, and they looked tired.
“This is very busy because the market is one street over,” Jim said.
A man on a bicycle cut in front of the taxi. Jim yelled something in Arabic and leaned on his horn.
“What did you say to him?” Rafer asked.
“I told him he was a crazy old man, and he should stay home under the covers of his bed. It is okay. He would be disappointed if I didn’t say something to him.”
A half block later Jim double-parked at the address Gabriela had given him. “This is it,” he said. “It is the door between the café and the grocery. I’ll wait here.”
The street was barely two lanes wide, and there were cars parked on both sides of it. Gabriela got out of the cab and looked at the cars that were bumper to bumper behind Jim. This was going to get ugly.
“We won’t be long,” Gabriela said. “If you have to circle the block, we’ll wait for you here.”
Ahmed was three cars back from the taxi.
The woman was making life easy for him. She was good at her job.
All he had to do was follow her. Of course, that would end when she found the new AirTag.
And he knew she would find it. She was smart.
Tomorrow he would plant a smaller, less obvious device in her bag.
He had more options now that he was back in Egypt.
He was no longer hampered by British restrictions and inferior, unskilled labor.
Gabriela Rose had demolished the idiots assigned to follow her in the UK. It was an embarrassment.