“Do you ever make it to Great Britain?” she asked.
“On occasion. Summer and I were in London just a few months ago.”
“You should come back,” she said softly.
“I’d like that.”
The conversation fell silent. A cool gust drove her to burrow close, and he slipped an arm around her. They were still huddled in the same position when the sun appeared in the eastern sky the following morning.
25
Three hours after the NUMA research boat resumed its journey up the Nile, the modern buildings of Assiut appeared on the western bank. One of the world’s oldest cities, Assiut maintained its relevance as a university town, an important agricultural center, and the largest city in Upper Egypt.
At the helm, Summer navigated through a lock alongside a pair of dams known as the Assiut Barrages before reaching a riverfront dock. Dirk tied up the boat and hopped back aboard to find Summer and Riki crowding around Zeibig and his cell phone.
“We finally have cell coverage?” Dirk asked.
Zeibig nodded. “For about the past ten minutes.”
“Then what’s all the excitement? Did you finally get a selfie with a camel?”
“Rod snapped some pictures inside the tomb,” Summer said. “Including the mural before it was shot up.”
“I managed a good shot of the corner that was defaced.” Zeibig held up the screen for Dirk to see. It showed a woman extending a hand to a man standing with a staff. Behind him a small group of people huddled in the distance.
“Nothing dramatic about that,” Dirk said. “You sure this was the section that was shot up?”
Zeibig nodded. “I snapped a few more on the way out.” He flipped ahead to a wide view of the mural, showing the damaged lower-right corner. “It is rather curious.”
“Maybe it was random gunfire to keep us hiding in the anteroom while they made their escape with the coffin,” Riki said. “And the lower corner offered less chance of ricocheting bullets.”
“Could have been,” Dirk said. “Either way, I think the police and antiquities authorities should see a copy.”
“Yes,” Zeibig said. “Perhaps it can be restored. I’ll see that Dr. Stanley gets a copy.”
“Speaking of which,” Riki said, “I think I’ll call the hospital and see how the professor is doing.” She hopped onto the dock and pulled out her phone.
“We should go check on him,” Summer said. “We can unload the boat later.”
“If lunch is thrown in somewhere, I’ll go along with that,” Dirk said.
Riki returned a minute later. “The duty nurse said he’s doing well and available for visitation. I’d like to go see him straight away.”
“Just what we were thinking,” Summer said.
They flagged down a taxi and squeezed inside, taking a short ride to the Assiut University Hospital. A huge, modern complex, the hospital stood on the open-landscaped grounds of Egypt’s third-largest university. They obtained Stanley’s room number at the admissions desk and rode an elevator to the fourth floor.
They found Stanley in a private room overlooking a courtyard. The professor was propped up in his bed reading an English version of the Al-Ahram Weekly. His left leg was heavily bandaged, but he otherwise looked the picture of health.
Riki rushed over and gave him a hug. “How are you feeling, Professor?”
“Pretty fair, actually.” He perked up at her appearance. “The leg’s a little sore, and I’m still a bit tired. Otherwise, I feel good.”
“We were worried when you lost consciousness coming out of the tomb,” Zeibig said.
“I slept through a nice helicopter ride, or so I’m told. Guess I was a pint low when I got here. The good doctors gave me a transfusion. Pharaoh Akhenaten should be pleased . . . I now have Egyptian blood running through my veins.”
Zeibig smiled. “Next thing you know, you’ll want to start building a pyramid.”