The Khamsin Curse (25 page)

“I didn’t see Lorna Baxter. I
thought she was following Mr Lee and myself but when I paused and
turned around to allow her to catch up she had gone.”

“I saw Ursula and Daisy going
off together. They were going back through the Inner Courtyard to
the other side.”

“I saw Hypatia going off with
Mallisham but that’s no surprise. I don’t know what direction they
went. Later, I saw Moran hanging around the girdle wall. He looked
like he was keeping tabs on us or on someone in particular.” He
thought it might have been Mrs Baxter but he bit his tongue.

They reached the Temple of
Harendotes and slipped inside. It was a private sanctuary, closed
on four sides but roofless, same as most of the structures on
Philae. Colonel Moran had chosen a good place to hide out of the
wind, and if it was privacy he wanted, he had that too. Several
cigarette butts littered the ground in the far corner. They were
fresh. Moran must have been telling the truth.

“If you are thinking of
discounting him from murder,” said Dr Watson sternly, “you can
think twice. He would have had ample time to set up those stone
blocks beforehand.”

“What about Lorna Baxter? Are
you saying she was in on it?”

He got his back up at once.
“No, of course not! He could have left Mrs Baxter inside the
temple. He might have made up an excuse for her stay inside while
he went to check on something. He could have said he heard a noise
or that he needed to relieve himself and that he got lost
afterwards. Or he could have waited until she fell asleep.”

“But how did he lure the two
men to their death?”

Dr Watson did not need to think
for long. “Remember when I said Hypatia said she heard someone
calling for help and Mallisham went off and then Lee followed, well
he must have lured them then.”

“That implies he knew they
would be inside the Temple of Hathor.”

“Hmm, yes, well he could have
followed them with Lorna Baxter in tow and then after depositing
her in this temple, doubled back, lured the two men to the Inner
Courtyard, killed them and returned in time for Mrs Baxter to think
nothing of it. The distances we are talking about are not vast. The
entire island,” he reminded, “is only twelve hundred feet in
length.”

She wasn’t convinced. The
theory relied too much on pure luck. “What about the urine?”

“I’m glad you asked! He must
have prepared urine in advance. He could have hidden a vial of
urine somewhere in the chamber and used that when the victims were
tied down.”

“So, no woman was involved at
all?”

“Yes! No! Making it look like a
woman did the deed would be just like him. He’s a wily, clever,
conniving, snake in the grass. Plus, he was the one who planted the
idea in your head that Golden Rain is performed by women? Is that
right?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “He was
the one who explained it to us.”

“How convenient that he is on
hand to explain it all!” His tone oozed facetiousness. “He should
have been with Hayter scouting the eastern side of the island. But,
of course, if he already knew there would be nothing to find on the
eastern side, he could have ditched Hayter easily enough. If he’d
wanted a partner to ditch, Hayter would have been the ideal choice.
And it was Moran, remember, who decided on the pairing-up. So, he
ditches Hayter and makes a beeline for the small chambers where he
expected to find Gideon and me, but finds you and Moriarty and
Gideon. Even better! An Irishmen who will support him and a woman
who is, er, sleep-deprived.” He chose that last word with great
care. “When did he turn up to explain his theory?”

She was feeling flushed and it
had nothing to do with the heat. She felt annoyed that she may have
played into Moran’s hands. “He turned up sometime, I cannot say
when exactly. I was sleep-deprived and not thinking clearly.” She
borrowed his phrase because it was convenient. “Gideon led Moriarty
and me into the chamber to see Mallisham. I was terrified at first
that it might be you. We then went into the chamber that contained
Lee. While we were discussing the murder we heard a noise in the
courtyard. It was Moran. I don’t know if he heard us talking. I
cannot say how long he was there before making his presence known.
He walked in and seemed to know at once what had taken place.”

“I’m not surprised!”

“I didn’t mean in that way. I
meant that the modus operandi was familiar to him. Hang on! He was
surprised to learn there was a second body. When we told him
Mallisham had been killed in the same manner he sprinted off to
check for himself. He seemed surprised at that and not a little
shocked.”

“Nice ruse! What we are dealing
with here is a criminal mastermind out of the ordinary.
Agreed?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Moran spent years with
Professor Moriarty, criminal mastermind extraordinaire.
Agreed?”

“Yes,” she said.

“He is, according to Sherlock
Holmes, the second most dangerous man in England. Agreed?”

“Yes,” she said.

“He is clever enough to
therefore stage his own crime and point the finger at whomever he
pleases.”

“What about motive?”

“As if being a criminal
mastermind isn’t motive enough,” he scoffed, amazed at his own
ratiocination. “If Mallisham or Lee were planning to give him the
flick that would be reason enough. Agreed?”

“Yes. But I would like to speak
to Lorna Baxter before we accuse Moran of murder. I want to hear
what she has to say about what happened in the Temple of
Harendotes. Did he go off and leave her alone? Are they conducting
an illicit liaison and how long has it been going on?”

They walked out of the shade of
the ruin into bright sunlight and the doctor sneezed.

“You really have picked up an
allergy,” she said, looking to the east to make sure the Khamsin
wasn’t about to make a come-back.

“I don’t think it’s an allergy.
Gideon told me about a chap he knew who sneezed whenever he looked
directly at a bright light or stepped from darkness into light. I’d
heard of it before but I’ve never come across any cases of it. I
think that’s what I have. It’s a photic-nerve response to bright
light. Nothing to do with an allergy or having a cold,” he said
happily. “Let’s go back to the ship for lunch.”

They walked the rest of the way
without talking. When they reached the jetty, the others were on
the aft deck under the striped canopy.

The Countess lowered her tone,
although she did not expect to be overheard. “I want to speak to
Hypatia about the voices she heard calling for help while she was
in the Temple of Hathor. Did she mention if they were male or
female voices?”

He gave a shrug; as far as he
was concerned the case was closed and all they needed was a motive
to tie up the last loose end, although being an evil mastermind was
motive enough. Yes, some people were born evil. “I cannot recall if
she said male or female and I don’t really think it matters. We
have our man.”

16

They were about to sit down to
lunch under the striped canopy when a massive explosion rocked the
ship. All the birds in the doum palms took to the skies. Crocodiles
and hippopotamuses basking lazily on the bank in the midday sun
took to the water. Splashes set off a ripple effect that continued
to rock the hull long after the blast abated.

It was first thought that the
ship’s engine had exploded. But when black smoke started billowing
from the vicinity of the construction camp they rushed to the guard
rail and squinted into the heat haze where sooty clouds were making
ugly smudges against a pristine blue sky.

Ali Pasha was in a felucca
which also felt the force of the waves. The boat bobbed up and down
and the slanted sail swung back and forth. The antiquities trader
was returning to his accommodation on one of the other islands.

“Do you think that was a normal
explosion?” asked Herr Graf, who had managed to drag himself out of
bed in time for lunch.

“What do you mean by
normal
?” quizzed Colonel Hayter, never far from a gin and
tonic.

“I think he means
not
sabotage
,” suggested Miss Clooney, who seemed unafraid to speak
her mind now that her uncle was no longer riding rough-shod over
everyone. “Ali Pasha was saying last night at the party that
someone was stealing explosives. Several boxes of dynamite were
missing from the storehouse at the dam site.”

“Oh, yes,” added Fraulein Graf,
“I heard him say suspicion fell on the foreman because he was
related to someone called Ibn-the-Mad.”

“Ibn-the-Mad?” quizzed the
Countess. “Was he referring to Ibn al-Haythem?”

The fraulein gave a shrug. “I’m
not sure. I stopped listening to what he was saying because a
serving woman brought a fresh platter of flat bread and my uncle
asked me if I could pass him one while they were still warm.”

“Yes, yes,” confirmed Herr
Graf. “That is who Ali Pasha was referring to. He was talking about
the eleventh century mathematician, Ibn al-Haythem, also known as
Alhazen, when the flat bread arrived.”

Gideon had been studying the
plumes of black smoke and he didn’t like what he saw. It looked not
like a planned explosion, but more like the sort of blast that is
accompanied by a burn-off of flammable materials. “Are you saying
Sharif the present-day foreman at the dam is related to the man who
was asked to build the original dam in the eleventh century?”

“That’s what Ali Pasha said,”
confirmed Herr Graf. “Sharif is a direct descendent of Ibn
al-Haythem the man who feigned madness for a decade to avoid
confessing to the Fatimid Caliph that constructing a dam was
impossible.” He gave a hearty chuckle. “Quite clever, if you ask
me! He wouldn’t be the first man in history to feign madness to
avoid a difficult task!”

They were about to return to
the table when a second blast rocked the boat. It came from the
same direction. Birds that had settled to nearby canopies took to
the air again, temporarily blocking out the sun as they circled
overhead flapping frenzied wings.

“I don’t like the sound of that
second explosion,” said Dr Watson portentously, aiming a dispirited
glance at his ex-army chum. It was midday and the Acting High
Commissioner was looking red-faced and knock-kneed already. If left
to him, the two murders would never get solved.

He wondered if he should
perform a post mortem just to rule out other poisons. Urine may
have been used to mask the smell of something much more common. And
the bodies needed to be stripped and examined properly for puncture
marks or unusual wounds. They were all going by the theory
proffered by Colonel Sebastian Moran that this was some sort of
Pashtun ritual carried out by women. No one was questioning his
judgment. Not even the Countess.

The two men who died were both
important figures in their own right, and yet there didn’t seem to
be a direct link between them apart from the island of Philae. The
situation as it stood was highly unsatisfactory. He resolved to
raise the subject at lunch, or perhaps straight after the ladies
left the table. Yes, he would spare the ladies any further
distress.

Fortunately, Miss Hypatia Lee
had decided to stay in her cabin. She was still sobbing
convulsively. He had looked in on her and recommended regular
spoonfuls of sugary lemonade to keep her strength up since she
refused all offers of food. Her lady’s maid was doing her best to
follow his instructions.

Mrs Lorna Baxter had also opted
not
to join them for lunch. She had put a lot of effort into
the surprise birthday party and was aghast at the horrible turn of
events. Everyone sympathized with her plight. They could all
recount similar stories of similar scenarios where large amounts of
emotional energy had been poured into a certain event or outcome
and when the result was the opposite of what was expected it left
one totally drained.

On top of that, was the sudden
death of her wealthy employer, Mr Lee. Clearly, she didn’t know to
what to make of it or even what arrangements to make about the
body. And for a well-organised woman, that can be more difficult to
deal with than for a woman who just lets come-what-may. Colonel
Hayter was no help. She had tried to ascertain what procedures to
put into place but he seemed not only unhelpful but useless.

However, the second explosion
brought her out of her cabin. She joined them at the luncheon table
looking more pale than normal, with dark circles under her eyes,
though still impeccably groomed, with her stunning red hair
perfectly up-pinned.

Dr Watson refused to think
badly of the American widow. He put the dark circles under her eyes
down to khol that was hard to wash off and not a night spent
pleasuring an evil mastermind in an Egyptian temple. If there was
anything of that sort going on, the good doctor was sure it had
more to do with coercion than freewill.

“I heard two explosions,” she
said as she slipped into the vacant seat between Herr Graf and
Gideon Longshanks and accepted a glass of Pimms from the latter.
“Did the blasts come from the construction site or the army
camp?”

“They came from the
construction site,” supplied Gideon matter-of-factly, pouring a
Pimms for himself to cover up the fact he was feeling edgy and
thinking that sabotage might be the new name of the game.

He wanted to pay another visit
to the dam site as soon as possible to check what those explosions
resulted from and if any deaths had followed. Plus he wanted to
make sure Jim had organized for the crocodiles to be removed from
the Kiosk sooner rather than later. He needed to impress upon him
the importance of the expediency of the task. Hopefully, everyone
would take a nap this afternoon to make up for lack of sleep last
night and he could hail a passing felucca to take him across to the
mainland.