The Moses Legacy (4 page)

‘What did he say?' asked May.

‘He told Moses that he was really an Israelite not an Egyptian and he must become the leader of the Israelites and tell Pharaoh to let them go. So he went to Pharaoh and said to him, “Let my people go.” But Pharaoh said no. So God sent the first plague.'

‘What was the first plague?' asked May.

‘It was
blood
,' said Daniel in his most theatrical tone, causing the girls to giggle. ‘God turned the River Nile into blood, so they couldn't drink the water. And then when Pharaoh still refused to let the Israelites go free, God sent a plague of frogs. Can you imagine that? Frogs running around all over the place?'

He created a pair of imaginary frogs with his hands and showed them jumping all over the table. As the twins giggled, Daniel and his sister exchanged a smile. It was her quiet way of thanking him for keeping the little ones entertained.

By the time he'd got to the Egyptian army drowning in the Red Sea, Shari had gone off to the couch and fallen asleep and May was finding it hard to keep her eyes open. Julia came over and asked her if she wanted to go to bed. May nodded, gave Daniel a hug and then went off to her room with her mother.

Amidst all the noise and clatter in the room. Daniel almost missed the sound of his mobile phone ringing.

‘Hallo,' he said, moving to the hallway so that he could conduct a proper conversation without having to strain to hear the other end of the line.

‘Hallo Danny,' said a woman's voice faintly.

‘Yes?'

‘It's Gaby. Gaby Gusack.' She didn't normally call herself Gaby. But she made an exception for Danny – sometimes.

‘Oh, hi Gaby.'

Two memories swept over him in quick succession: the almost-forgotten fifteen-year-old girl with a crush on him from his days as a PhD student and the tall, supremely self-confident woman that he had worked with on a recent archaeological dig in Jerusalem.

‘Listen, I'm calling from the University of Cairo. I'm with Professor Akil Mansoor.'

‘The head of the Egyptian Antiquities Authority?'

‘That's right. He'd like to speak to you.'

Daniel was familiar with some of Mansoor's statements, as well as his deeds, and he hadn't exactly warmed to him. But if Mansoor wanted to speak to him, then evidently there must be some matter of mutual interest, and Daniel had no desire to seem rude to anyone, let alone a fellow academic.

There was some movement at the other end and then a man's voice came down the line.

‘This is Akil Mansoor. The reason I'm calling you is that we have found something out here that may be of interest to you and we'd like to fly you out here to take a look at it. It will all be at our expense of course, and first class, naturally.'

Daniel smiled at the attempt to bribe him with first-class travel. But he was intrigued and wanted to know more.

‘Can you give me some idea of what this is about?'

‘I would prefer to tell you when you get here. But I can promise you that it will be of considerable interest to you.'

Daniel felt awkward. ‘The problem is I have several lectures to give here and I also promised my nieces that I'd take them to Stonehenge as their birthday treat.'

‘It needn't be a long visit. Possibly even just a day or two. We would be ready to reward you handsomely.'

‘It's not a matter of money. It's a matter of time. I mean, I can come, it's just that it would be a lot easier if it were in a couple of weeks' time.'

‘Unfortunately, time is of the essence. Besides, I think this is something you'd really be excited about if you saw it. I'd rather not say what it is over the phone, but I can tell you that it appears to be an artefact of considerable interest to Jewish history.'

Daniel sensed the excitement in Mansoor's tone and he knew that this was a man who wouldn't take no for an answer. The words could have been hyperbole, but the fact that a man of Mansoor's position and prestige had called him out of the blue and extended such an invitation was telling in the extreme. And the invitation also had the imprimatur of Gaby behind it. That was the tie-breaker.

‘Okay,' he said, intrigued.

‘How many years has it been?' asked Harrison Carmichael as they stood surrounded by the shrubs and flowers in the back garden of the seven-room detached house in Hertfordshire. He had been shown here by Roksana, the young Polish maid who had opened the door for him. The garden was Carmichael's favourite part of the house. With its tall, leafy trees, it offered privacy. You could sit here in the shade, reading a book and just forget about the world.

‘It's been longer than it should have been,' said Daniel, shaking his professor's hand warmly. ‘And it's my fault.'

It had in fact only been a few months. He had been to Agatha's funeral and come back to the house afterwards. That was why Roksana knew him well enough to let him in.

‘Nonsense, old chap. I shouldn't be such an old stick-in-the-mud. I should get out more.' His voice became softer. ‘Instead of letting myself turn into an old recluse, like one of those characters you read about in those books by…'

He trailed off.

Daniel avoided his eyes. Harrison Carmichael was still intellectually vibrant, but he had lost a tiny bit of that spark that Daniel remembered from his own PhD student days, when Carmichael was his supervisor. He didn't like to think that maybe Carmichael was in the first stages of Alzheimer's
or some other form of dementia, but it was a possibility that he could not deny. He knew that Carmichael had been shattered when Agatha died. It was that recent bereavement that may have taken the spark out of him.

Daniel just hoped he would get the care that he needed when he needed it. He had the money, but he didn't have that one special person watching over him to make the decisions for him when they needed to be made. He had a day maid to clean the house and he was still capable of cooking for himself – something that he enjoyed as a hobby, not resented as a chore. But there was no one there to watch out for those tell-tale signs when he might need the help of a trained carer. It pained Daniel to think that he could say nothing on the subject to Professor Carmichael and had no one else to talk to about it.

‘I'll get Roksana to make some tea.' He turned to the French doors where Roksana was standing.

‘The kettle is on,' she shouted. ‘I'll bring it out to you.'

He nodded to thank her and then indicated to Daniel to sit.

‘Now tell me what all this is about.'

Daniel told him about the phone call from Gabrielle yesterday evening, Akil Mansoor's cryptic invitation and his decision to accept.

‘I would be very careful about going there if I were you, Daniel.'

‘Careful? Why?'

‘Well, you wouldn't want to get the plague.'

Daniel felt a flush of embarrassment. It wasn't like Harrison to make puerile jokes. Daniel wondered idly if this was a symptom of the creeping dementia.

‘I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I'm just a silly old fool.'

‘I could
never
think that, Professor.'

‘I wrote a paper about it you know,' said Carmichael. ‘Based on my translation of an old manuscript in Proto-Sinaitic script. But they're refusing to publish it.'

‘Who?'

‘The Americans. In
The Journal
. They say it's still being peer reviewed, but I know what they're up to. They're going to rewrite the article in someone else's name and claim the credit.'

Plagiarism in the academic world was hardly unknown, but once a paper was submitted to an academic journal, plagiarism became
less
likely. It would require the co-operation of too many people.

‘Did you make a copy?'

‘Oh yes. Roksana typed it for me on my computer.'

‘So you've got proof of authorship. You could have a copy witnessed by a solicitor.'

‘Yes, but I want them to
publish
it. People need to know. The plague could come back.'

‘
Which
plague?'

‘The sixth.'

Daniel did a quick flick through the reference pages of his mind. He realized that the professor must be referring to one of the infamous biblical plagues of Egypt.

‘Boils?'

‘Yes.'

‘But why would that plague in particular come back?'

‘Because it can lie dormant for centuries. It had already made a comeback when they were camped outside of Canaan.' The voice was becoming agitated. ‘That's what the story with the fiery snakes was all about – the one where Moses put the snake on the pole.'

Harrison was rambling now and Daniel was desperately
trying to think of something to distract his mentor from the convoluted thoughts that were tormenting him.

‘Here's the tea,' said Roksana, appearing from the house with a tray in her hands.

 

It was about half an hour later that Harrison Carmichael was trudging back to the house alone. He had insisted on seeing Daniel to the driveway, despite Daniel's own insistence that it was unnecessary. He watched as Daniel drove away and at the same time saw another car pulled up nearby. As Carmichael turned towards the house, a very tall, powerfully built man got out of the car and approached.

‘Professor Carmichael,' the man called out, with a quiet sense of urgency in his voice.

‘Yes?'

‘I have to talk to you on a matter of grave importance… about your paper… to
The Journal
.'

A sense of realization returned to Carmichael and he smiled at the gushing enthusiasm of this man, whose words seemed to convey so much respect for him.

‘You'd better come in.'

The professor led the man inside and asked Roksana to make some more tea as he led his new guest through to the garden. Roksana looked nervous at the presence of this powerfully built stranger, but the professor appeared to know what he wanted.

‘Now, tell me what it is that you wanted to tell me about my paper,' said the professor.

‘Well, I was wondering if you had a copy of it.'

‘You mean the one I sent to the
American Journal of Egyptology
?'

‘Yes. Do you have a copy of it? Is it on your computer?'

‘Yes, in my office upstairs. Would you like me to ask Roksana to get you a copy?'

‘Yes. Let's do that now.'

‘Why don't we wait for the tea—'

‘I said, let's do it
now
!' shouted the visitor, rising to his feet and yanking Carmichael out of the chair.

The professor looked at him, terrified. This man was a student of his, or so he had said, yet now all he could see was a giant of a man towering over him and being rough and aggressive.

‘Okay,' said Carmichael meekly. He shuffled along nervously with the tall man walking behind him, giving him a couple of shoves and pushes in the back to assert his control.

When they arrived in the house, Roksana looked confused. ‘I was going to bring the tea out,' she said.

‘No need,' the tall man replied. ‘I'm not staying for tea. I just need to know where the office is.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘You don't need to understand, bitch! Just show me where it is.'

In that moment Roksana understood, or at least thought she did. ‘There's nothing valuable there. Just a computer and some books.'

‘It's the computer that I'm interested in. That and its content!'

Roksana had enough of a grasp of the situation to realize that this man had come here to take something and he was not looking to leave any witnesses. She made her decision in a flash.

A fraction of a second later, a pot of scalding hot tea was flying at the big man. He was too big and his feet planted too firmly on the floor to dodge it, but a lightning-fast movement
of his arm deflected it. After an initial moment of numbness, a searing hot pain shot up his left forearm.

But he was a man who could handle pain, and he had no intention of being stopped by a woman. As she made her desperate dash to the door, he closed the distance between them in three quick strides. She tried to scream, knowing that it was her last chance for survival, despite the isolation of the house. But the intruder clamped a giant hand over her mouth as his other arm encircled her neck from behind. With a powerful motion, he snapped her neck and let her lifeless body slump to the ground.

Carmichael looked on in terror, knowing that there was nowhere to run.

‘The office!' the giant commanded.

He shuffled along meekly while the man pushed and shoved him from behind. Once in the office, Carmichael turned round hesitantly with tears of terror and confusion in his eyes. The tall man noticed, with relish, that the front of Carmichael's trousers was wet.

‘Do you keep hard copies?' asked the intruder.

‘What?'

‘Hard copies!'
He slapped Carmichael viciously across the face.

‘No. I mean… I don't know. I leave all that to Roksana.'

The big man looked at the computer and knew that he had a decision to make. He recognized that the confused Harrison Carmichael had told him all he knew, so he decided to dispense with him now. Picking up a paperweight from the desk, he smashed it down on Carmichael's head. The old man slumped to the ground, without a sound. But he was not yet dead. The big man crouched down and struck the old man with the paperweight again. And again… and again… and again.

He dropped the paperweight and placed a hand on the professor's neck, looking for any sign of a pulse. He felt none. Satisfied that the old man was dead, he proceeded to do what he had come here for.

Switching on the computer, he went into set-up and changed the boot order so that it would boot from the CD drive first. He then inserted a bootable CD which contained a utility program called
Darik's Boot and Nuke
that would automatically destroy the entire contents of the hard disk. Then he rebooted the computer and let it do its work.

However, this was only the first stage. He was sure that Roksana would have made at least one hard copy as well as backups on a CD or memory stick, but he had no intention of spending any more time looking for them. It could take ages and he couldn't be sure of finding them all. He knew that Carmichael probably wouldn't have been able to tell him and he had been a little too quick dispensing with Roksana.

So while
Darik's Boot and Nuke
did its work, he went to his car and siphoned off some petrol. He poured it on to the floor in the office and carefully placed a lighted candle there, making sure there was no draught that could extinguish the flame. There was no more to be done.

Half an hour later, the big man was well on the way to Heathrow Airport and Harrison Carmichael's house was well and truly ablaze.