“The fact that the pictures from Mars reached the media at all can mean only one thing: that whatever the agency you dealt with is doing to cover all this up, they’ve made a mistake. Somehow, they weren’t as thorough as they should have been, and if they were trying to stop ‘disastrous repercussions,’ then they’ve failed.”
The Professor was about to speak when a noise from outside his office caught his attention. He quickly placed his index finger against his lips. Gail turned round silently to follow his stare.
Two loud knocks on the solid oak door reverberated round the room.
After a moment’s hesitation, Mamdouh stood up behind his desk.
“Come in,” he said, a slight crackle in his voice.
Chapter 41
George woke up to the phone ringing incessantly in the living room. He looked at his watch: six-thirty in the morning.
Bloody hell, Gail, he thought to himself as he stumbled down the stairs. He searched among the empty cans, bottles and food wrappers on the coffee table before finding the remote. One of his friends emerged from the toilet scratching his head.
“What time is it?” he said.
“Six-bloody-thirty, and where did you come from?” he asked as he answered the call.
“Slept in the bath, mate,” came the reply as he looked enviously at the couch, where another body lay comfortably, still unconscious.
George wasn’t listening. The video wall asked him if he wanted to accept a video-call from a private number in Egypt. He cursed under his breath; the one time that he was home-alone and had friends over for a drink, and Gail had to call him first thing. There was no way he could make the room look even half decent for the camera, so he didn’t even bother trying. Instead, he checked his reflection in the preview screen in the corner of the video wall and accepted the call, before focusing his attention on the caller. It wasn’t Gail.
“Mr Turner?” a man in uniform asked. He was standing against a plain white background, his navy blue uniform immaculate. He didn’t wait for George to confirm his identity, and he didn’t look surprised by his attire. To him, all Englishmen looked as scruffy as the half-naked apparition he was talking to. “I am Captain Ahmed Kamal of the Cairo police department. We are looking for your wife, Mrs Gail Turner?” He used a raised inflection at the end of his statement, prompting an answer.
“Well, I assume you’re closer to her than I am, Captain; she’s in Cairo. I spoke to her yesterday evening, but haven’t heard anything since then.”
“At what time did you speak to her, Mr Turner?” the Captain demanded.
George crossed his arms defensively. Two of his friends were now sitting on the sofa behind him, looking at the video wall in bemusement. “Am I being interrogated here?” he said. “Why are you asking me about Gail? Is she OK?”
The policeman looked beyond the camera, as if checking something going on in the background where he was calling from. “We just need to speak to her, Mr Turner. Telephone recordings reveal that your wife was meeting a Professor Mamdouh al-Misri yesterday evening at his office in the Egyptian Museum of Cairo. We would very much like to find her so that she can answer some questions relating to our enquiries.”
George scratched his head. It was too early for this. “I last spoke to her at about six, that’s eight in the evening your time. She was on her way to meet Mamdouh.”
“Mamdouh?” the Captain raised an eyebrow. “You knew him well?”
“Absolutely, we spend a lot of time there, we stay with him whenever we go to Egypt.”
“That’s very interesting.” He looked behind the camera again and made a slight nodding of the head. “Do you know of any reason for dispute between him and your wife, Mr Turner?”
George was taken aback; what a question. “Not really, no. They were both pretty shocked by the photos from Mars yesterday; Mamdouh called her and arranged her flight to Cairo, he wanted to see her as soon as possible.” The policeman was annoying him now, what he really wanted was to call Gail on her mobile to check she was OK. “Anyway, she will be at his house now, they were meeting at the museum but she was going to stay with him as usual. He lives nearby. You’ll find her there, Captain” George had a quick rummage on the coffee table before finding his mobile phone. He tried to call her, out of view of the Captain, but the network immediately informed him that her phone was switched off. “Otherwise, I suggest that you ask the Professor where she is.”
The Captain looked carefully at George for a few moments. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr Turner. You see, Professor Mamdouh al-Misri was murdered, late last night in his office at the museum. Your wife is missing, and until she is found she is our closest link to the killer.”
George’s two friends slid out of the room into the kitchen, leaving him alone.
He sank to the sofa and shook his head. The camera embedded into the video wall followed him.
“Mamdouh’s dead?” he said in disbelief. “And there’s no sign of Gail at all?” he asked more in the direction of the officer.
“I’m afraid not, Mr Turner,” came the dispassionate reply. “I understand that this has come as quite a shock to you. To help in our investigation, I would appreciate it if you could try to remember any details about your conversation with your wife yesterday evening.”
He shook his head. Now he was extremely concerned about Gail; she usually sent him numerous messages when she was away, to say goodnight, good morning, and to update him on anything interesting in between. His phone and video wall both told him she had done nothing of the sort since twelve hours earlier when she had landed in Cairo. The only other call he had received was from the man from the space agency.
“I had one other call last night,” he started slowly. “A man called from the European Space Agency wanting to speak to her. I gave him the Professor’s phone number and told him to call there.”
The Egyptian didn’t look surprised, but instead nodded his head approvingly. “A Mr Martín Antunez, I believe? Yes, he called the museum yesterday evening as you suggest. We found his details written on a note in the Professor’s office.” He was getting fidgety, as if he felt he would get no further and did not wish to divulge more about his case. “We have already spoken to him, Mr Turner. Anyway, I have sent you my business card, if anything else comes to you, or if you hear from your wife, then please let me know immediately.”
He was about to reply when the screen went blank, replaced momentarily by the telephone company logo, which in turn was replaced by the placeholder reel of the video wall, a mountain slope overlooking a wide rain-swept valley through which a river wound its tumultuous path. He stared at the scene for several minutes before standing up and moving towards the kitchen.
Opening the door he interrupted his friends, their sudden silence betraying the subject of their conversation.
“Well?” the one who had slept in the bath said. The look on his face and rasping voice both suggested he had not slept very well. “Is she alright?”
He glanced at them both and reached for the percolator. Sensing its lack of heat, he poured a cup of the thin black liquid and placed it in the microwave. Removing it seconds later, he sipped the piping-hot coffee and looked at them both again.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m going to Egypt to find out,” he added resolutely.
He left the kitchen and his friends in silence as he returned to the video wall to book his flight.
Chapter 42
You did not need to come to Egypt, Mr Turner,” Captain Kamal repeated in an unfriendly tone. “Our investigations have been progressing well during the day; your presence is simply not required.”
He seemed much smaller in person than on the video wall, which had the annoying tendency of making callers much larger than life. It could be quite intimidating at times, which was why George usually only made voice calls except when speaking to Gail. The added dimension of seeing any other caller was not something he saw much point in, though many people insisted on using the function – in particular for business or official calls.