Morning came and it was already hot. I'd climbed in bed worried about the looming desert horseback ride and had a terrible night dreaming of
gigantic horses trampling the stuffing out of me. I tried to drag out breakfast, but Mahmoud was in a hurry to get to the horses and soon we were on our way. Phil handed me a picnic basket as we filed into the
elevator.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"Lunch. For you and the little master," Phil said. "If I were you, I'd go easy on the cakes."
I smiled at the little bald-headed rat.
"Why thank you,
Phil. It's such a pleasure not having to watch my weight anymore. So nice of you to do it for me," I said.
"Believe me, Madame, the pleasure is all yours," he said. The elevator came just as I was about to offer
to take up a donation for a head transplant on Phil's behalf. I stuck my tongue out at his disappearing back as the doors shut.
We were met in the lobby by one of Abu Assad's drivers. I gave him a cursory
once-over: Nope, this time it wasn't Blake. I'd just have to meet him in the Khan-al-Khalili the next day.
**********
The pyramids at Giza are amazing, but I paid little attention to them. The
only thing on my mind was getting through the horseback ride that loomed in front of me, the Godzilla of all my fears.
I have a fairly high fear threshold. There are a lot of things I don't like, but only a few
that downright frighten me: high places, snakes and...horses. And here I was nose to nose with one of them -- a horse, I mean. I'm not sure snakes have noses.
Speaking of which, the guide, a little fellow with a
huge nose of his own, was saying something to Mahmoud in rapid-fire Arabic. I felt sorry for the man. Knowing Mahmoud, he'd own the horses by the time he finished negotiating for a ride. Finally, a deal was struck and
Mahmoud returned to me, grinning with delight.
"We have the horses for the whole day and he's going to take us to Saqqara to see the other pyramids! Isn't that wonderful?"
"Just ducky. How far is
Saqqara?" Mahmoud spoke with the guide for a moment.
"About 15 kilometers."
"Fifteen kilometers? On a horse?"
"We'll be traveling over sand, mostly. It'll be great! Come on! The driver's going to
meet us in Saqqara with our lunch and we'll ride back with him."
"Do I have a choice?" I watched as the guide led three horses over to where we were standing -- two brown ones and a black one. The black one
looked at me and snorted.
"I want one of the brown ones," I said.
"Oh, but the guide says the black one is the most gentle. That's the one he gives to new riders."
My instincts said that if I was
halfway intelligent, I'd run like a scalded llama, but Mahmoud was genuinely excited about the trip and I didn't have the heart to say "No." Plus, I really wanted to see Saqqara.
"OK. But I'm warning you -- this is going to be one long day."
********************
Fifteen kilometers is only about nine miles. But if it's nine miles over the desert sand on the back of a
horse that insists on going down when you go up and up when you go down...well, let's just say there are parts of the anatomy that don't adapt well. I was going to need a soak in the tub when we returned.
The
ride wasn't too bad. But it was hot and we had to stop here and there to give the horses some water and a little break. Mahmoud was having a great time. He would gallop away and then back, laughing at me as I stoically
plodded along, trying to get through the day without broken bones or a nervous breakdown.
We were in sight of the pyramids at Saqqara when it happened. I'm not sure what caused the horse to spook -- it might
have been a plastic bag that floated across our path, caught up in a sudden, hot breeze. But the horse took off without warning, hooves flying furiously over the sand.
I felt the reins jerk in that second where
he started to accelerate, then he was moving, faster and faster, with me trying desperately not to fall off. I bounced, hard, in the saddle, pressing my stirruped feet as close to the horse's sides as I could.
Instinctively I knew that if I lost the stirrups, I would lose my balance and fall.
I pulled back on the reins, but it didn't faze him, although the sand did slow him down. Still, he was still moving very fast
and I hunkered down, over the horse's neck, still holding on tight. I was telling my Maker that I had not always been such a good girl, but would try to be better if He would give me a second chance, when I felt --
rather than saw -- someone pull along side of me.
Pull along side of me? Excuse me, my common sense said, you are on a horse galloping out of control in the desert. This isn't a city street and other horses just
don't materialize out of nowhere and pull along side of a runaway horse. Especially since the horse this guy was on is white and the horses Mahmoud and the guy with the big nose were riding were brown.
But there
he was, defying logic. He yelled something -- I couldn't understand. At this point the horse was going so fast, it was all I could do to keep from sliding off the side, but I turned my head and caught a quick glimpse of
him pulling up even with my mount.
He yelled again, something about how I shouldn't worry, then pulled slightly ahead of us. The two horses continued to gallop and the man had his horse beside and slightly to
the front of mine. He put a little more distance between us, then turned his horse right into our path. My horse curved to the left to keep from colliding with the white horse and, suddenly, we were heading straight for
the side of a pyramid!
Great, I thought. I've suffered through adolescence, college, the Police Academy, childbirth, toddlers, teens and PMS and now I'm going to end it all pasted to the side of a pyramid like
the coyote in the roadrunner cartoons. And to think I'd just been congratulating myself for managing to hold on this long.
We continued our headlong flight toward the pyramid, which was huge and impossible to
miss, and I lowered myself over the horse's neck, bracing for the collision. The guy on the white horse materialized next to me.
"Hold the horse straight! Sit up!"
I glared at him. "I'm going to hit the
pyramid, you idiot!" The face of the pyramid was so close now, I could count the individual stone blocks, one of which held my fate. I wondered how my obituary would read? "Local Woman Becomes Permanent Hieroglyphic!"
He yelled at me again.
"Just hold the reins straight and pull your shoulders back. Do it now. He's going to stop!"
The base of the pyramid was so close I could feel my head smacking against the rock
when, just like a cartoon horse, he stopped just a few feet short of the gigantic stone monument. The man on the white horse dismounted quickly and grabbed my horse's reins, gently talking to him. I sat on top of the
animal, reins glued to my hands with sweat and sand, afraid to move and, at the same time, desperate to get off.
The man came around to my side and helped me down. My legs were rubbery.
"Thank you, I
think," I said. He looked over at me and smiled, showing the whitest, nicest teeth I had ever seen. Blue eyes, sandy blond hair covered with an Indiana Jones hat and a trim, muscular body completed the picture. Well, I
thought, if I've got to be saved, it might as well be by someone who looks good!
"Are you alright?" He asked, with a slightly British accent.
"Yes, yes, I am. Thank you."
"Sorry about aiming for
the pyramid. I'm certain that was frightening. But horses won't run into a solid object like that. It was the easiest way to get him to stop."
"Well, it certainly worked, didn't it?"
"Yes. Well, here are your friends...."
I looked as Mahmoud and the guide approached. "Yes. Oh -- I'm Eileen, uh, Baxter."
"An American?"
"Yes."
"How nice. I'm Geoff Chandler."
"Chandler! The archaeologist?" He was the one I'd read about, the archaeologist who'd found a tomb believed to be intact. He was also the one Abu Assad's men were discussing in the tunnel. I had to proceed
carefully here, since I didn't know which side of the fence Chandler might be playing on.
Chandler smiled, flattered that I knew of him. "Yes. Are you interested in archaeology?"
"Tremendously. Tell me, have you opened the tomb yet?"
He laughed. "Not yet. There are all kinds of formalities before we can proceed. That's why I'm here, as a matter of fact. I've been finishing up the
paperwork with the Inspectorate of Antiquities, right over there," he pointed to a cluster of smaller buildings in the distance.
"You were filling out paperwork on horseback?"
He laughed again. "No. One
of my men is from here. He'd just bought a new horse and brought it to me to try out. My parents were horse breeders -- I grew up on horseback."
"So this was just a fluke of fate? A coincidence?"
"No," he said. "I don't think so. I think it was more like 'Kismet."
***************
Chandler was introduced to Mahmoud and we found the driver and our lunch and shared it with our new
friend. Over sandwiches and cold juice drinks we talked and he told us about his project. It was his life's work, he said, and the expedition had been financed by Sheik Hamir, Madya's ruler. Hamir was a great champion
of the archaeological world, financing many expeditions in far-flung places.
"The Sheik is passionately interested in this discovery," Chandler said, adding that it could shine a light on one of the lesser-known
pharaohs.
"I've spent years searching the Valley of the Kings. I knew it was there, somewhere, but it escaped me. Then, about two months ago, I came across something that convinced me I was on the right track. I
found a map -- very old -- probably drawn by grave robbers. And it's taken me to the site of what evidence reveals to be the tomb of a high-ranking official and, I believe, the pharaoh I'm seeking," he finished his
juice and thanked us for the meal.
"But I must be off. We're hoping to open the tomb the day after tomorrow. Say, would you like to come and watch?" His bright blue eyes smiled an invitation. Mahmoud practically
leaped out of his pants in excitement.
"Oh yes, yes, please Miss Eileen, say we can! That would be wonderful!" I had to admit the idea was intriguing, and it did have quite a lot to do with our case. We knew Abu
Assad had something to do with Chandler.
I smiled. "We'd love to. How do we find it?"
"It won't be hard. I'll give your driver directions before I leave. Thank you again for the lunch and your gracious
company," he said, then reached down and pulled me to my feet. Bending over my hand, he kissed it.
I probably turned as red as a fire engine, but I tried to act nonchalant, as though men kissed my hand after
saving me a from a runaway horse at the pyramids in Saqqara every day of the week.
"Until we meet again," he said, then winked and climbed back on his horse and rode away.
I was looking forward to seeing
him again, I admitted to myself with a tinge of guilt. After all, I am happily married and would never do anything to compromise that marriage. But my interest in Chandler was all in the line of duty, which made it OK.
Or at least that was the official party line.
In the meantime, I needed to pump the kid for information on how to beat the security features in his dad's office and pass the details to Blake so that he could
break in. I didn't plan to go with him. Nope, not me. Breaking and entering has never been one of my goals.
But, unfortunately for my principles, it's now firmly on my list of accomplishments.
