Close Up the Sky (29 page)

The Morruk caught
it and tried to pull the cap off like a cork. When it refused to budge, he
scratched his head and gave Leahy a baffled look. Leahy made a twisting motion
with his fingers. Hanik imitated him and the cap came off easily. He screwed it
on and off several times, studying the threads. At last he grinned and nodded. He
turned the bottle up and drank greedily. When his thirst was slaked, he
recapped the bottle and nodded to Leahy in gratitude. He bowed slightly and
said, "Thank you, lord."

"Wait
here," Leahy said. He shucked off the pack and dropped it at his feet.

"My
lord?" Hanik questioned. Droplets of water glistened in the whiskers
around his mouth.

"I will climb
to the summit," Leahy said. He pointed to the top of the ridge. "Wait
here until I return."

"As you will,
lord." Hanik replied with a bow.

Leahy turned and
started up the slope. The climb was difficult at first, but about halfway to
the top the steep angle began to level off toward a round summit. The angle of
the hill caused him to lose sight of Hanik, who sat on the ground near the
bottom. Because of that, he did not see the Morruk take a polished metal disk
from inside his clothing and begin reflecting sunlight from it. After a few
seconds, similar flashes were returned from a group of large boulders a quarter
of a mile away.

Hanik smiled and
returned the disk to its hiding place. He moved a short distance away from the
base of the ridge and saw Leahy still climbing. As he watched the black-clad
figure ascend the slope, he took the cap off the water bottle and poured some
of the liquid into a cupped hand. He splashed it into his face and rubbed it
across his cheeks and forehead. The pointed teeth resembled tiny yellow fangs
as a grin of ecstasy spread across his features. He was well satisfied with his
performance as a humble fool and knew he would be suitably rewarded at the
proper time. He continued to splash water into his face until the bottle was
empty. When the last drops were gone, he carefully screwed the cap back on and
secreted the container inside his robe. He knew it was foolish to waste the
precious liquid, but he would soon have more. Refreshed, he sat down on a small
boulder and waited for his master to arrive.

W
hen he reached the summit
Leahy shaded his eyes and scanned the terrain. He could see for miles in every
direction. Off to the west was the flat mountain, with an enormous stretch of
wasteland between it and the hill where he stood. According to the information
he had gleaned from Hanik during their journey, somewhere on its top lay the
main camp of the Morruks. He strained his eyes for any sign of nearby activity,
but no dust or movement disturbed the desolation. A sprinkling of low hills
broke the horizon to the south, and northward the desert stretched away to
infinity. It was what lay to the east that caused a sharp intake of breath. There,
separated from him by only a few miles of open land, was the Nile!

Leahy held his
breath, mesmerized, as his eyes followed the mighty river's path across the
desert. It twisted and turned like a great silver serpent lying across the
brown earth. The water gleamed in the late afternoon sun, contrasting brightly
against the land and sky. Green areas along the banks indicated lush
vegetation, and he could see what looked like a small village or town nestled
in one sharp bend. Several hundred acres of fertile land on each side of the
water had been cultivated into plowed fields. Long rows of amber and green
vegetation grew in neatly kept squares, each section the same precise distance
from the next. The scene reminded him of American farmland he had seen so often
from the air. The thought sent a stab of homesickness through him, and he took
a deep breath to dispel it. He scanned the river in both directions, but as far
as he could see the village and fields were the only signs of civilization.

He mentally
reviewed the briefing his team had held before the time jump. The site in the
Valley of the Kings where the missing stellarite had come to earth indicated
that soldiers of the pharaoh's personal guard had been present during the
excavation. Therefore, the plan had been to commence the search for Edward in
and around Thebes, the nearest Egyptian city and seat of the pharaoh. He did
not know the direction to Thebes, but Hanik could doubtless provide the
information. If he could not, he would obtain it from someone in the village.

He spent another
few minutes absorbing the magnificent vista then started back down the slope. As
he neared the bottom he halted. Hanik was sitting on a boulder just beyond the
base of the hill. When the Morruk saw him he jumped to his feet and stood
staring at him. Something about the man's demeanor triggered a danger signal. Leahy’s
eyes darted left and right, but he saw nothing to justify the feeling. He ran
his fingers over the outline of the Beretta in his pocket. Every nerve in his
body felt electrically charged as he continued to scan the area. Then, understanding
seeped into him like water into cotton. Hanik himself was the source of the
feeling! Instead of rushing forward and humbling himself as he had done so many
times since their second encounter, he hung back as though waiting for
something to happen. Leahy edged forward, but stopped at the top of the
embankment. Hanik kept his position, shifting his feet nervously and rubbing
his palms down the front of his robe. Leahy scrutinized him intently. The
little rat looked like he was shaking in his sandals. Something was definitely
wrong.

Except for the
slope on which Leahy stood, the ground was open for a hundred yards in every
direction. There was no place from which an attack might be launched. Beyond
the open space were a few large rock masses and shallow gullies that could be
used as concealment, but the distance was too great for an assailant to reach
him before he could bring the pistol to bear. He kept his eyes on Hanik and
slid down the bank. When he reached the bottom he jumped to his feet, alert for
any sign of danger from the direction of the rocks. Nothing moved; the air was
deathly still. He glared at Hanik, who remained motionless a few yards away. Even
at that distance Leahy could see his hands trembling.

"Come
here!" he commanded the Morruk through clenched teeth.

Hanik made no move
to obey. Leahy's nervous system sent a jolt of adrenaline through him and he
felt the muscles in his back tighten. With a slow, deliberate movement he took
the pistol out of his pocket and leveled it at Hanik.
The
Morruk's eyes widened in terror.

"I said come
here!" Leahy hissed.

Hanik remained
frozen, his eyes riveted on the gun. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow and
his head jerked convulsively, an involuntary movement born of total fear.

Leahy edged toward
him like a police officer approaching an armed suspect, weapon at high ready. He
had taken only a few steps from the embankment when a hairy arm shot up from
the ground and grabbed his ankle. He yelled in astonishment and tried to twist
out of the powerful grip, but lost his balance and stumbled forward. He fought
to keep his feet but another hand from beneath the ground closed around his
other leg and jerked it from under him. A stab of pain shot through his left
side as he hit the ground. He rolled onto his back and tried to pull his legs
free, but they were pinned securely against the chests of men who had
materialized from shallow trenches in which they had been buried. The earth
around him was erupting with dirt-covered men. He swung the pistol up and tried
to get off a shot at the man who held him, but a vicious kick sent it flying
from his grasp.

He looked up to
see Hanik's grinning face. The Morruk jumped across him and ran after the
weapon. Leahy saw him reach to pick it up, but lost sight of him as a sandaled
foot crashed into the side of his head. Yellow light exploded behind his eyes
as his brain slammed against the inside of his skull. He grunted in pain and
bit the end of his tongue. Hands grabbed his arms and tried to pull them behind
his back. He jerked his right arm free and struck out blindly.
He was rewarded by the feel of bone crunching beneath his fist
.
He struck again, this time with the cutting edge of his hand. There was an
agonized cry followed by a string of curses as the blow found someone's groin. Then,
by the power of sheer numbers, they rolled him onto his stomach and pinned him
down. One of them straddled him and bound his wrists with a cord. He felt it
bite into his
flesh
as the knots were pulled tight. Someone
else put a foot on the back of his neck and forced his face into the dirt as
more cord was tied around his ankles. When he was securely bound, they dragged
him a few feet away and dropped him face down in the dirt. A small puff of dust
blew up from the ground as the breath was knocked out of him. His eyes and nose
stung from the grit. He turned his head sideways, eyes closed. For a few
seconds he lay still, resting, listening to the ringing in his ears. The cords
around his wrists were cutting off the blood, causing his hands to tingle and
swell. He strained against the bonds but the movement only caused them to cut
deeper. Fortunately, they had tied his hands palms-out so the cords did not
cross the large blood vessels on the backs of his wrists. He could feel some
sensation in his fingertips, indicating that a small supply of blood was still
reaching them.

Next he tried his
feet, but they were securely bound. He thought about the small, surgically
sharp knife in one of the pockets of the utility belt, but with his hands bound
behind his back there was no way to reach it. For some reason they had not yet
tampered with the belt. He decided not to draw attention to it by trying to get
at the knife. Besides, the Morruks were undoubtedly watching him, so even if he
could retrieve the knife there would be no opportunity to use it. Resolved that
he could do nothing toward gaining his freedom under the present circumstances,
he remained quiet and tried to relax.

He listened to the
sounds of their movements and heard their voices speaking in a language he did
not understand. The conversation went on for several minutes, rising and
falling in argumentative tones, but they soon fell silent. It was quiet for a
while,
then
he heard footsteps approaching. Pain shot
through his ribs as someone kicked him in the side. Another man stuck a foot
under his shoulder and rolled him over. He looked up to see Hanik and Nessif
standing over him. Nessif's nose looked even more enormous when seen from
below. His dark eyes gleamed above it like two pieces of smooth onyx. They
glared down at him with the most intense vehemence he had ever seen.

"So we meet
again, eh?" he said in Egyptian. Leahy was alarmed to see the pistol in
his hand. He held it by the barrel, like a club.

Hanik and another
man lifted him by the shoulders and propped him against a boulder. Dirt clung
to his left eyelid and his head ached from the kick he had received during the
fight. He wondered how many more blows his head could take before his brains
were permanently scrambled. There was a foul taste in his mouth and he wanted
water.

Nessif squatted
beside him and grinned. It made the tip of his nose drop below the top of his
upper lip. In spite of the gravity of the situation, the Morruk's expression
struck Leahy as comical, and he could not suppress a small chuckle.

Nessif's face
brightened. "Ah, it is good to see that you are not seriously injured. I
would have regretted that immensely."

Leahy shifted to a
more comfortable position against the rock. "Your concern is
touching," he replied dryly.

"Now perhaps
we can continue with our earlier conversation. The one you so rudely
interrupted with this." Nessif held up the pistol. "You may begin by
explaining what it is, and how you made thunder with it."

The rest of the
men squatted nearby watching the exchange. One man glared at him more intensely
than the rest. A crooked scar ran across his face and he had a swollen nose. Leahy
recognized him as the one he had kicked in the face during their earlier
encounter. The scar was old, but the broken nose was new. He wondered if that
particular Morruk had been the one who had landed the kick to his head. If so,
he hoped his nose hurt like hell.

He saw his pack
lying
a little way beyond the cluster of men. They had
dumped the contents out and pilfered them, but other than the walkie-talkie the
pack contained nothing that might arouse their interest. However, the utility
belt around his waist was another thing. Feigning a cough, he glanced down at
it, and was relieved to see that all the pockets were still fastened.

Nessif grew
impatient at the delay. He put his hand under Leahy's chin and jerked his head
up. "Speak!" he commanded.

Leahy licked his
dry lips and said, "First some water."

The Morruk
hesitated for an instant,
then
smiled. "Of
course." He turned and spoke sharply in the unknown dialect to one of the
men.

The man hurried
forward and took a water skin from around his neck. Nessif pulled the stopper
and spurted water into Leahy's mouth. It was warm and had an alkaline flavor,
but it washed away the dryness from the fight. Nessif handed it back to the man
then brandished the pistol in Leahy's face. "Now speak!” he ordered.

Leahy settled back
and fixed a steely gaze on the Morruk. There were still twelve rounds in the
gun's magazine, with two more full magazines in reserve. That was enough modern
magic to give Nessif's gang of cutthroats the ability to rob and plunder
wherever or whomever they pleased. He had no intention of teaching Nessif how
to use the pistol if he could avoid it, but he was subject to whatever methods
they might decide to use on him. If he refused to tell him how to use the gun,
they would probably kill him; or worse, torture him beyond endurance. He had no
doubt that the Morruk chief and his men were capable of anything. He decided to
stall for time, hoping that an opportunity for escape might present itself. "Untie
my hands and I will show you," he said.