Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
She wriggled her
eyebrows in agreement, smiling at him as he returned her smile. She was gently
patting his cheek when he suddenly looked over her head and his expression
changed.
“Alia,” he put
his arm around Morgan as she turned around. “It’s good to see you.”
Morgan’s gaze
immediately fixed on an elegant-looking Middle Eastern woman with bright green
eyes. She was quite exotic looking and lovely. Alia el-Shabheen’s gaze was
fixed on Fox as if Morgan didn’t exist.
“Fox,” she said
in her thickly accented English. “It’s been forever. It’s so good to see you
again as well.”
“Thanks,” he
smiled as he indicated Morgan. “This is Morgan Sherburn.”
Alia’s green
gaze fixed on Morgan as if seeing her for the first time and there was
immediate tension in the air. Perhaps Fox didn’t sense it, but Morgan certainly
did and her guard went up. She didn’t like what she was sensing and she smiled
thinly at the woman.
“It’s nice to
meet you, Dr. el-Shabheen,” she said politely. “Your museum is beautiful.”
Alia el-Shabheen
looked like a goddess with her kohl-lined eyes and dark-lined lips. She was
about a head taller than Morgan and scrutinized her very closely before
speaking. It was apparent that, at least to Morgan, the woman was sizing her
up. Fox had warned her but she hadn’t really believed it until this moment.
Truthfully, she was a little shocked at the juvenile behavior.
“Of course,” was
all Dr. el-Shabheen would say. Her gaze moved up and down Morgan’s body,
scrutinizing her. “Are you a colleague?”
Morgan could see
that the line was being drawn, right then and there. She almost laughed but
managed to hold herself in check. She shook her head.
“No,” she
replied evenly. “I’m a….”
Fox interrupted
her before she could finish; he didn’t pull any punches. “Morgan and I are
getting married in the spring.”
Alia’s green
eyes flickered with fury but her features never changed expression. Morgan met
the woman’s gaze strongly until Alia returned her focus to Fox.
“Congratulations,”
she told him. “I had no idea you were the marrying kind.”
The barbs were
flying already. Morgan looked at Fox, who was beginning to see what she was
seeing. She could tell by his expression as he faced Alia.
“I‘m the
marrying kind with the right person,” he said evenly and Morgan very nearly
broke a grin. “And you? Have you finally married?”
It was a
double-whammy and Morgan lowered her head lest Fox, or Alia, see the grin she
was desperately trying to fight off. But Alia did nothing more than smile
weakly.
“Actually, I
did,” she replied. “Two years ago to a lovely man of my father’s choosing. He
breeds racehorses.”
“Wonderful,” Fox
said, hoping the conversation would go a little better from this point on. “You
always did like horseracing.”
“I do,” Alia
agreed, her gaze not as harsh as the situation seemed to settle. “I’m sorry to
rush you, but how can I help you? You mentioned in your phone call that you had
something you wanted me to take a look at.”
Fox reached out
and took Morgan by the hand. “I do,” he agreed. “Is there somewhere we can go
and talk for a few minutes? It shouldn’t take long.”
Alia nodded,
motioning for the two of them to follow. When Morgan finally looked at Fox, he
rolled his eyes and shook his head. He was already regretting the woman’s
behavior. Together, they followed Alia across the lobby and towards the back
of the museum where the administrative offices were. As they entered the office
complex, a small, brown man with bulging eyes and a leather-worn face rapidly
approached Fox.
“Dr. Fox!” he
cried gleefully, shaking Fox’s hand enthusiastically. “Dr. el-Shabheen said you
were coming. I am so happy to see you again.”
Fox shook the
man’s hand as Alia came to a stop and turned around. “I see that you remember
my assistant, Beni,” she said, somewhat more pleasant than she had been
earlier. “Beni, this is Dr. Fox’s wife.”
Beni, a little
man with sun-wrinkled skin, fixed his dark eyes on Morgan and his mouth popped
open.
“Mrs. Fox,” he
exclaimed, awed. “Dr. Fox is very fortunate, madam. It is an honor to meet
you.”
Morgan smiled
her thanks, looking to Fox and wondering when he was going to clarify that they
weren’t married. But he didn’t clarify, instead, urged her along as they
continued to follow Alia to her office. Beni brought up the rear.
Alia’s office
was nothing like Fox’s; it was clean and modern, and she indicated for them to
take a seat at a small conversation table. Meanwhile, Beni had gone to collect
three bottles of chilled water and brought them in, setting them before the
guests. Alia took her seat across the table from them and primly folded her
hands.
“Now,” she
began, suddenly all-business. “What did you wish to speak of?”
Fox wasn’t sure
how much he was going to tell her given the way their meeting had started off.
He knew several people at the Cairo Museum but he’d always shared a good
friendship with Alia, at least he thought he had until Morgan was introduced
into the mix. Now Alia seemed clipped and rushed, and he was frankly
disappointed. When Morgan opened up one of the chilled bottles and handed it to
him, he took it gratefully as he pondered his next move.
“I’ve come
across some interesting information lately that I need to solicit your advice
on,” he began. “Have you ever heard of a location or monument called Claw of
the Apes? The reference period should be pre-dynastic. I’ve done some research
on the subject but my focus is Middle and New Kingdom, not pre-dynastic. I
thought you might know.”
Alia looked
thoughtful. “Claw of the Apes,” she repeated to herself, thinking. She looked
over at Beni, who was hovering at the edge of the table. “Have you ever heard
of the Claw of the Apes?”
Beni came from a
family who had been entrenched in Egyptology for over one hundred years; his
grandfather and great-grandfather had pioneered the plundering of ancient
gravesites until somewhere in the 1930’s, his family joined forces with the
museum rather than work against them. Consequently, Beni had grown up knowing
more about Egyptology than most Egyptologists and he knew more about the
collection in the Cairo museum than most of the curators. He thought hard on
Dr. el-Shabheen’s question.
“Do you recall
The Mamas Tablet that we have in storage, Dr. el-Shabheen?” he asked her. “The
Mamas was brought from the expedition of Dr. Gentry back in the 1950’s; as I
recall, he was excavating far to the south near Amada just below the second
cataract. As I remember, The Mamas Tablet had a mention of an Ape’s Hand. Could
it be the same?”
Alia blinked her
great green eyes as if suddenly remembering. She stood up and Fox with her.
“Yes,” she murmured, looking at Fox. “I had forgotten about The Mamas Tablet.
We have not had it on display in many years but it does make mention of an
Ape’s Hand.”
Fox was riveted
to the information. “It has to be the same,” he said. “The reference is so
remote; I’ve never heard of anything else described as an Ape’s claw or hand.
What does it refer to?”
Alia shook her head,
looking to Beni. “Do you remember?”
Beni shook his
head. “I do not.”
Alia looked back
to Fox. “Then let us go and see.” When they began to move away from the table,
Alia held out a hand to Morgan. “Only Dr. Henredon. We do not allow civilians
in the archives.”
Fox opened his
mouth to put up a fight but Morgan put her hand on his arm, squeezing gently.
“That’s fine,”
she said evenly. “I wouldn’t be any help, anyway. Can I wait here?”
Alia nodded.
“Please,” she said, looking to Fox with a hint of warmth in her eyes. It was
evident that she was pleased to have him to herself. “Shall we go?”
Fox nodded, but
not before kissing Morgan very sweetly in front of Alia. His message was clear.
He turned back to Alia and motioned towards the door.
“Let’s go,” he told
her.
Some of the
warmth was gone from Alia’s expression as she headed out the door. Without
benefit of words, she had gotten Fox’s message loud and clear. Beni scampered
after them as they left the room, leaving Morgan sitting alone in the neat
office.
Morgan sat there
for about five minutes before she stood up and began pacing the floor. She was
nervous and excited to see if they could figure out a piece of the puzzle. She
began to wonder how Fanny must have felt, surrounded by Egyptians who more than
likely only wanted to be with her for the money she could provide them,
offering what service they could and perhaps false interpretations of questions
she might have had. Morgan knew that although Egypt around the turn of the
twentieth century was undoubtedly an exciting place, it was also a very
dangerous place.
Her
great-grandfather seemed to have really loved his wife so it was difficult for
Morgan to imagine that he would willingly put Fanny is such danger. But, then
again, if Fanny was anything like her great-granddaughter, then she was a
willful and stubborn woman, and Louis probably didn’t have much say in what she
did.
Pacing Dr.
el-Shabheen’s office for a few minutes only made her more bored and edgy so she
decided to head out into the museum and take a look around while she was
waiting. Emerging into the museum from Dr. el-Shabheen’s office, she came to a
kiosk directory and found her way to the Old Kingdom artifacts section.
Once inside the
avocado-painted walls of the gallery, she settled in to visit display after
display; an necklace and earring set from a King’s Valley tomb, a statue found
at a dig near Saqqara. All things ancient and Egyptian met her gaze and she
found herself looking for symbols that matched the symbols on her papyrus. She
kept looking for a link. But her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when
someone screamed.
Morgan’s head
came up from the case she had been looking at, straining to catch a glimpse of
the source. About fifteen feet away, an elderly Caucasian woman suddenly fell
to her knees as a young Middle Eastern man yanked a purse from her arm. The kid
took off at a run, smacking the woman’s elderly husband as he went. As the old
man fell back on something undoubtedly priceless, Morgan kicked off her
platform sandals and barreled after him.
The young man
was fast but without her shoes, Morgan was faster. Moreover, there were
patrons in the lobby of the museum that slowed the youth’s flight. When he
bashed into an elderly Muslim woman and teetered, Morgan launched herself and
tackled him.
The young man
was taller than she was but he was very thin. Morgan wrapped her elbow around
his neck and put him in a chokehold, keeping him on the ground as museum
security began descending on them. She squeezed hard enough to cause the young
man to pass out just as one of the museum guards hit her on the shoulder with
his baton. Furious, she grabbed the baton and turned it on guard, cracking him
over the head. The man went down and the entire museum was in an uproar.
Someone pulled
her up by the waist and Morgan began shouting that she was a Los Angeles Police
Officer. A couple of the guards spoke English and beat back the other guards
who didn’t. While the English-speaking guards tried to figure out what
happened, the young man on the floor came around and several of the museum
guards hauled him to his feet and dragged him off.
There was a
great deal of chatter going, now including the elderly couple who had been
mugged in the gallery. They were from Florida, shaken but not really hurt, and
Morgan went out of her way to comfort and protect the old couple from the harsh
Egyptian guards. The Egyptian sense of security and justice was different from
what it was in America; it clearly wasn’t innocent until proven guilty. The
guards were wondering what the Americans did to provoke it.
All in all, it
was a chaotic scene, made worse when the man who was evidently Head of Security
tried to kick Morgan and the old couple out of the museum. Morgan let the man
have it, telling him in no certain terms what an idiot he was. Muslim
countries, including Egypt, didn’t tolerate outspoken women very well and the
Security Chief, an older fat man with bad teeth, had enough of Morgan’s anger
and slapped her across the face to shut her up. She attacked the man, sending
him to the ground, and someone called the Cairo Police.
The situation
went from bad to worse.
***
In the archives
of the Cairo Museum, Fox had no idea what was transpiring in the lobby. He,
Alia and Beni had managed to locate the Mamas Tablet with the help of one of
the archivists, who brought the piece out from his storage place, wrapped in
protective casing and surrounded by bubble wrap. The archivist set it out on a
table for them and very carefully unwrapped it until the entire tablet was
exposed to the light.
Fox put on his
reading glasses as he moved in to get a good look at it. Alia collected a soft
bristle brush from the archivist and brushed gently on the gray stone surface.