Lady of Heaven (30 page)

He grinned. “A
few.”

She laughed and
poked him in the arm. “Do tell.”

He put his glasses
back on and shook his head. “Not on your life,” he looked around, making an
attempt to shift the conversation. “There’s a market over there. Do you want to
buy some fruit to take with us?”

She bumped him playfully
with a slender hip. “Don’t change the subject,” she said. “Tell me about your
harem.”

He put his hands
on his hips and faced her. “Is that really what you want to talk about on our
honeymoon?”

She shrugged.
“Probably not. But it’s fun watching you squirm.”

“I’m not
squirming.”         

“Yes, you are.”

Thankfully for
Fox, Allahaba caught their attention and waved them back over to the car.  But
Morgan decided to take Fox’s suggestion and she scooted across the street to
the open-air market that had a variety of produce on display.  She was a little
wary about the fresh produce but was assured by the shop keeper that his
produce was irrigated with clean water. The last thing she wanted was to be in
the middle of the desert with no facilities and a bad case of the runs. So she
selected some oranges and grapes, eventually joined by Fox, who selected a few
mangos.  With their booty, they were ready to proceed into the desolate
wilderness to the east.

The Edfu -Marsa
Alam Road was the main drag east that went all the way to the Red Sea. It
passed through the Red Sea Hills, skirted the Marjam Hamsh Wilderness to the
north, and then circled the north side of Mt. Nuqrus.  The agricultural
topography stretched for several miles east from the Nile until eventually, the
desert took over and consumed everything.  The temperature remained warm as the
Land Rover began to bump and grind over the less-cared for section of road. 
Hills of desolate gold stretched as far as the eye could see.

“How far are we
traveling today?” Morgan asked as the wind whipped her blond hair around.

“About a hundred
and twenty kilometers,” he told her. “I have mapped out where I think we need
to begin our search, so we’ll start there.”

Morgan nodded in
understanding, so incredibly relieved he was taking charge of the expedition.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she told him. “I couldn’t have gotten this far
without you.”

He caressed her
shoulder. “You could have; you’re a police detective and, I would imagine, have
pieced things together more complex than this.”

She shook her
head. “I mostly work Vice or Narcotics,” she said. “Following the clues on the
papyrus is more than detective work. You need to have an intricate knowledge of
ancient Egyptian history, which I don’t have. Maybe I could have worked it out
eventually, but I really have to give you all the credit. You’ve been amazing.”           

“Vice or
Narcotics?” he repeated, fixated on the early part of her statement. “You work
hookers and dope?”

She giggled; it
sounded so dirty the way he said it with his Manchester accent. “I’m perfect
for it,” she told him. “I can dress like a hooker and catch pimps or they can
put me in a high school as a new student and I can pass for a teenager.”

He groaned,
wiping his free hand over his face in a weary gesture. “Bloody hell,” he
grunted. “My wife works whores and pot. How am I going to tell my mum?”

Morgan’s
laughter grew. “I would advise that you don’t. My grandparents still don’t know
the extent of what I do. They think I sit behind a desk.”

“I would vote
for that as well,” he agreed eagerly.

“Sorry, dude.
I’m not the desk type.”

He grunted and
huffed, not at all pleased with the extent of her job. “Will you at least wear
some of your hooker outfits for me?” he wanted to know. “I should at least be
able to get some pleasure out of this if I’m going to be so bloody unhappy
about it.”

She snorted.
“I’ll see what I can do.”

He hugged her as
the Land Rover continued along the two-lane road, boxed in on the north and the
south by gently rolling sandy hills. Jabeel had switched out the CD from Van
Halen to Aerosmith and “Sweet Emotion” echoed off the desert landscape. Jabeel
and Allahaba were chatting in Arabic in the front seat while Fox and Morgan
lounged contentedly in the back.  Eventually, with the drone of the engine and
the boredom, Morgan predictably drifted off to sleep in the comfort of her
husband’s big arms.

Morgan had no
idea how much time had passed when she realized the car had come to a halt. 
She could hear Jabeel and Allahaba, and a voice she didn’t recognize.  Peeping
an eye open, she saw that they had come to a halt and a man swathed in dirty
robes was speaking to Jabeel at the driver’s side window. 

She didn’t see
anyone else from her angle, just the man, but the conversation was growing
increasing heated.  Fox eventually shifted her, very carefully, so she was
lying across the bench seat.  She had no idea where he had gone but she
suspected he had gotten out of the car.  When he left, she felt rather panicked
but kept her cool.

So she lay on
the seat bench, listening to the voices grow louder and more unhappy.  She had
no way of seeing that there were more men, now holding guns on Allahaba and Fox
as they began to rummage around the back of the car.  She heard Fox’s stern,
frightening tone, speaking in Arabic so she couldn’t understand what was being
said. But one thing was for certain; whatever was happening couldn’t be good.
She could hear the tension in their voices.  Peeping an eye open to make sure
she wasn’t being watched, her left hand moved discreetly for her backpack.

She found the
pack as the voices grew angrier.  Quietly, with great stealth, she unzipped the
bag and fumbled around.  Wrapped in a scarf and buried deep, she found her
service weapon, a Beretta 9mm handgun.  It had been with her the entire time
she’d been in Egypt, only she’d never told Fox about it. She wasn’t sure how he
would take it given how much he seemed to not like her job. But as a sworn
officer, the gun was a part of her as much as a purse or shoes.  It was
necessary equipment. Carefully pulling it out, she held it close against her
chest and waited for the moment to use it.  She didn’t have long to wait.

Someone roughly
grabbed her and she could hear Fox bellow. But before the man could pull her
out of the seat, she coolly pointed the gun at the center of his forehead.

“Get your hands
off me,” she snarled.

The man had no
idea what she said but he knew it was a threat. Allahaba snapped something at
him and the man put his hands up as if to show he was surrendering. Morgan
kicked the man in the face, sending him out of the car and into the dirt as she
sat up, as steady as rock, the gun still trained on the man who was now picking
himself up from the road.

She climbed out
of the car, the gun never wavering; a quick glimpse showed several cases of
their water and other items on the road next to the car.  There were also at
least five more bandits that she could count. When she spoke, her voice was low
and commanding.

“Who are these
guys, Allahaba?” she demanded. “What do they want?”

Allahaba, his
eyes wide with surprise at Morgan’s firearm, stammered. “They want our water
and anything else of value,” he told her. “They are robbers, Mrs. Fox.”

Morgan could
hear guns being unlocked all around her, of magazines being loaded, so she took
her weapon in both hands, aimed at the man in her sights, and braced her legs
as if preparing to fire. Her intended victim threw his hands up in the air and yelled
fearfully.

“Tell them do
stand down their weapons or I’ll blow this guy’s head off,” she bellowed. “Tell
them now!”

Jabeel and
Allahaba relayed her orders, receiving a barrage of angry replies in return. It
was evident that they were reluctant to cooperate.  As the chaos of shouting
went on, Morgan unexpectedly fired her weapon, catching her captive in the
center one of his upraised hands.  As he screamed and grabbed his hand, she
rushed forward and shoved his
hajib
back, grabbing him by the hair.  She
put the gun barrel against his temple and pressed hard.

“Tell them to go
back where they came from or I’ll drop a round right into this guy’s brain,”
she hollered. “I’m not bluffing.
Do it
!”

Both Jabeel and
Allahaba began rattling off her command. The bandits, dressed in dirty flowing
robes and riding in old vehicles, the manufacture of which were unknown, began
to shout to each other angrily. But they were backing away. They weren’t moving
fast enough for Morgan, however, so she threw her wounded hostage to the
ground.  When he fell, she put a boot on his neck and leaned down, putting the
gun barrel right between the eyes.

“If they’re not
out of here by the time I count ten, I’ll put more holes in this man,” she
snapped. “Tell them to get in their cars and get the hell out of here.  If they
come back, I’ll kill them all.”

Again, Allahaba
and Jabeel began shouting to the others. The bandits, seemingly not willing to
take the chance that the woman might actually follow through, scattered back to
their sand vehicles.  Shouting, waving guns and knives, they began to tear off
into the hills. Morgan dared to take her eyes off her captive for a moment to
watch them leave but when she did so, the man beneath her twitched.  Without
hesitation, Morgan pistol-whipped him on the side of the head and knocked him
out cold.  Furious, not to mention shaken, she immediately looked around for
her husband.

Fox had been
standing near the hood of the car; he had been watching everything, his heart
in his throat as he watched his wife hold a gun on a man probably twice her
weight. The shot through his hand had been dead-aim and truly shocking. He
would never have guessed his spa-loving wife to be capable of it. When she used
the gun to knock him out, Fox rushed at her.

“Bloody hell,”
he grabbed her by both arms. “Are you all right?”

She nodded,
visually inspecting him to reassure herself that he was in one piece. “I’m fine,”
she assured him. “Are you all right?”

“Never better.”

“What in the
hell happened?”

“Robbers,”
Allahaba said as he picked up one of their cases of water from the road. “They
blocked the road and when we stopped, they demanded our supplies. But then they
saw you and I heard some of them say that they wanted to take you.”

Morgan’s gaze
moved between the distant dust cloud of retreating cars and the bloody man on
the ground.  As she flipped the safety on the gun and lowered it, Fox noticed
that her hands were shaking.

“Oh, my God,”
she breathed, running a shocked hand over her face. “That was insane.”

Fox was watching
her, seeing the women through new eyes.  She was clearly nothing to be trifled
with, unafraid to defend herself or protect others. He found the quality deeply
attractive, deeply admirable and a little frightening.  The tiny little
spitfire of a woman he had married was taking on quality and dimension before
his very eyes. 

“That’s putting
it mildly,” he put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Are you sure
you’re all right?”

She nodded,
putting her arms around his narrow waist and squeezing tightly. “I’m fine,” she
assured him.

“Swear it?”

“I swear.”

As Fox embraced
his wife closely, Allahaba and Jabeel were running around, collecting cases of
water and bags of food off the ground and tossing them in to the back of the
car.

“We had better
leave quickly,” Allahaba encouraged them, eyeing the unconscious man on the
ground. “They will be back to get their friend.”

Fox didn’t
budge; he just wanted to hold his wife, not wanting to admit how utterly
terrified he had been for her. But Morgan patted him on the back, gently urging
him to release her.

“Come on,” she
told him. “He’s right; we need to get out of here.”

Fox reluctantly
agreed. He let go of Morgan long enough to pick up the remaining cases of water
and deposit them in the back of the car.  Morgan collected a box containing
crackers and other consumables, handed it over to Fox, and bailed back into the
car as Fox put the box of food in with the water.  He climbed into the car
after his wife, Jabeel floored it, and off they went in a rooster tail of dust.

As the car raced
down the highway, putting distance between them and the still-unconscious man
on the side of the road, Morgan opened up her backpack and wrapped her gun back
up.  She tucked it deep inside, zipping up the pack only to notice that Fox was
watching her. She smiled weakly at to his calm, yet warm, expression.

“I didn’t tell
you about the gun because I know how you hate the idea of what I do so I didn’t
want to upset you,” she explained to his silent question. “As a law officer,
I’m required to carry it when I’m off duty in the States. I didn’t want to come
to Egypt without protection.”

He didn’t say a
word; he just grasped her hand and held it tightly as he turned his gaze to the
window.  Morgan watched him, sensing what she thought was his disapproval, and
it ate at her like nothing she had ever experienced.