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Journey to the temples of the pharaohs and the Valley of the Kings as two women find love is stronger than hate.

Part 1

Introduction

They had fought that morning. Really their first fight. There had been tiffs before but not a real fight. This had been a fight. In the end, Cheops Malone had taken the day off from her Dig and taken the two children, against Wilhelminia Kyrtsakis's wishes, to visit Queen Hepshepsut's cliff temple. Major Kyrtsakis had stormed off to see to her duties.

It was barely eight o'clock when they started out from the Valley of the Kings where Cheops was working and headed up the famous Agatha Christie trial that would take them over the ridge that separated the valley of the Kings from the Valley of the Queens. It was warm already, the winter months of cool now giving way to the coming summer heat. Cheops took her sunglasses out of her pocket and slipped them on.

As they walked up the barren ridge, Cheops told the two children about how Agatha Christie had written many well known murder mysteries. Her husband had been an important archaeologist and so Christie had used the setting of the Valley of the Kings for one of her novels. In the novel, Hercule Poirot had walked over this path with some other characters to visit the Valley of the Queens. Since the publishing of the book, the path had always been called after the author who had made it famous.

Cheops' daughter laughed and asked a million questions along the way about the author and the novel, her strawberry blond hair golden in the sunlight. Quietly, Willy's son walked on ahead. He never said much but Cheops knew that he took everything in. He was handsome and dark like his mom and like her too, he moved with a graceful assurance and controlled strength.

From the top of the ridge, they could look down on the famous cliff temple. Its three long storeys were perfectly balanced and orderly and joined by a wide ramp of stairs. As they carefully walked down the steep, winding trail, Cheops told them how King Thutmose the Third had probably been responsible for the Queen's death. He had hated her because she had stolen his leadership from him when he was too young to rule and had refused to give it back.

On her death or murder, he had ordered that every name, statue and painting with her likeness as a pharaoh be destroyed. Not satisfied with killing her in the real world, he was determined to destroy her eternal life too. Cheops' daughter shuddered and took her mother's hand. Willy's son nodded, appreciating the need to demoralize the supporters of an enemy.

That was why they had argued that morning. Cheops had suggested that Willy reconsider sending her son back to boarding school in Britain where he was being carefully schooled for entry into Sandhurst when he was old enough. She felt the boy would be happier if he could have a normal childhood. It was the word 'normal' that had set Willy off. She had taken it as an attack against her profession, which in a way it was.

"I might not be 'normal' in your snobby little academic world but it's my kind that are going to be on the front line protecting this world not yours. You want to talk about meaningless existence, what about digging in the dirt for bodies dead a thousand years?!"

"Four thousand, and would you stop yelling insults! Damn it, Willy, can't we have a disagreement without you having to win at all costs?!"

Cheops shook her head to get rid of the echoes of the morning fight as she led the children up the stairs and into the temple to show them the amazing frescoes that still remained so clearly on the walls. She chewed on her lip in thought as they went. As soon as they got back, she was going to phone Willy and apologize. She had no right to tell her how to raise her son, no matter how close they had become over the winter.

Willy pulled to the side of the tarmac road. The black strip of highway wound its way across the rock desert to the ferry that would carry her jeep across the Nile to the city of Luxor. She had a busy day today. Plans for the security of an up coming visit by high British government officials were almost in place. At a time when terrorism was on the rise, nothing could be taken for granted. As a security officer with special services, it was her job to make sure the visit was a safe one.

She sighed and turned the jeep around. Fortunately, Egyptians understood the concept of time over the ages and not according to daily planners. She would take the next ferry and be late and still, no doubt, show up too early for the meeting with the Minister of Security. She needed to go back and apologize to Cheops. She had said some really stupid things.

They were in the inner rooms of the temple surrounded by a group of German tourists and a handful of Egyptians when the attack came. Cheops remembered that at the first shots and screams, she had looked back and been relieved to see several tourist police at the entrance. Then they had lifted guns and opened fire again. There was no escape.

The bullet shattered a rib as it went through her and another shattered her wrist bone as she went down. Instinctively, she rolled to put the children under her, unaware as yet that both were already dead. The gun fire stopped but the screams grew more frantic. She looked up to see that the killers were now walking among the bodies using machetes to slash at faces and disembowel the living. She curled around the children and prayed that they would survive.

Inge met Major Krytsakis at the entrance to tomb KV 5, pleased that Cheops had left her in charge of the Dig while she took the morning off to be with the children. "I'm sorry Major, Cheops has already left. They took the Christie trail about... That's gunfire!

Quick!" Inge yelled to the workers that were out in the open, "Get inside the tomb!" Concerned with the protection of her crew, she was only vaguely aware of the Major taking off up the dry valley, her powerful, long legs eating up the distance as she ran along the trail.

Inge stood at the entrance watching in worry. Tourist buses continued to arrive but now the guides were getting messages on their phones that terrorists dressed as police were killing people at Deir el-Bahari. She wished her Egyptian was as fluent as Cheops', who had spent her childhood summers in Egypt with parents who had been archaeologists themselves.

From the little she could understand, she realized that the situation on the other side of the ridge must be bad. For a while, the firing had stopped but screams could still be heard. Then the firing started again and rumours spread that the terrorists were heading to the Valley of the Kings. No one came. After awhile, the gunshots and screams stopped. The tourist buses unloaded. An extra squad of police showed up and Inge ordered the crew to return to their work.

Ismail, Cheops's Egyptian foreman, came to stand by Inge. "Those bloody terrorists," he moaned, tears rolling down his face, "they have cut the legs out from under my children. How will they feed their families if the tourists go away?!"

"Cheops was over there with the children. I can't leave the Dig. Cheops would be furious if anything was taken and she has the key, so I can't lock the gate. I don't want to put you in danger, Ismail, but we have to know if Cheops is safe. Will you go find her?" Inge asked, her voice cracking with worry.

Ismail wiped his face immediately. "I go," he said, already heading off.

"Be careful!" warned Inge, wishing that she could leave her responsibilities and go and search for Cheops too.

Willy met one of the last of the terrorists on the trail as she came over the ridge. An Egyptian worker had held him by his leg and that had slowed his escape until he had shot the man in the hip. Willy slowed him too, with a right hook that sent him tumbling down the hill towards a group of Egyptian workers who kicked at him in their fury until he was dead. Willy charged through, across the open courts and up the stairs, calling Cheops' name.

A tourist guard tried to stop her but she pushed him aside and ran into the temple, slipping on the gore and blood that coated the floor like a blanket. She looked around in a panic. Please no, don't let them be here, she prayed and then felt her heart stop as she saw Cheops' body lying in a growing pool of blood. Her lower right leg had been hacked nearly off and the shattered end of white bone hung out of the bloody stump. Willy groaned in dismay and whipped off her military belt as she hop scotched over the dead to get to the woman she loved.

Quickly, she wrapped the belt tightly around the leg below the knee. Then she stripped off her shirt to bandage the severed foot tightly to the stump. She fought to keep her stomach down and her hands from shaking in fear. It was then that she saw her son's arm sticking out.

Gently, she lifted Cheops clear. The two children were curled together. Her son had wrapped himself around the little girl to protect her. Their innocent beauty was marred by the look of horror frozen on their faces. Willy sat in the blood and held her son to her as her world closed in around.

Two Years Later: Turkey

Gunnul stretched out her long legs, deliberately capturing Jamie's small feet between her own. Her soulmate looked up from her side of their large partner's desk and smiled. "I love you, Jamie," Gunnul said in the serious way that she had when she felt something very deeply and was having trouble finding the words to express her emotions.

Jamie smiled "I love you too," she responded. Once she had replied, I love you more, much to Gunnul's confusion. Gunnul's English was excellent but sometimes meaning was lost in translation or in the interpretation by the Turk's very linear mind. Poor Gunnul had been devastated, believing that Jamie did not think that Gunnul loved her enough! It took some explaining and an evening of love making to reassure Gunnul that all was well in their relationship!

"Next week, you will have made your home with me for one year, Jamie," Gunnul explained, rubbing her leg along Jamie's. "I think that it would be good if we took a second honeymoon."

Jamie reached over in delight and captured Gunnul's long, strong hand, "That would be wonderful! But Gunnul, we can't go to Disney World without Chrissy, she would never speak to us again!" Gunnul's eyes widened in surprise and Jamie laughed delightedly. "I saw the travel guides in your briefcase when I was looking for the monthly reports," she explained.

Gunnul's eyebrow went up in mock annoyance. "Then we will....

"Mommies! Mommies!" called a frantic voice as a pretty young girl ran into the den through the open French doors that led to the terrace.

Gunnul was on her knees beside their daughter in a split second with Jamie only a few steps behind. "What is it?" Gunnul asked worriedly.

"You must come quick!" explained Chrissy, looking back and forth between her two mothers. "The secret tomb in the garden is falling apart!"

"Jamie, bring Chrissy!" ordered Gunnul as she sprinted. Chrissy and her mother followed as quickly as they could with Jamie's crippled leg. Gunnul's long legs and powerful stride had got her to the tomb several minutes ahead of them.

She stood in shock, looking down at the tomb that sat in a tangle of wild garden behind a tall wrought-iron fence. Jamie and Chrissy came up to stand at her side. The stone lid of the tomb snapped softly as they watched and another hair line crack formed. The once beautiful lid of ancient Greek patterns could barely be seen now through the crumbling stone.

"What does it mean?" asked Jamie, reaching out to touch the tomb. Gunnul stopped her hand.

"I don't know," murmured the taller woman.

"They are unhappy. They no longer speak to each other," Chrissy said, tears rolling down her face.

Jamie wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Is it the ancient ones you sense, Chrissy?" she asked.

The miserable child nodded. "Yes, the ancient ones and the ones too that live close to us," explained the serious child. Gunnul and Jamie exchanged looks.

"Where do they live, Chrissy? Do you know?" asked Jamie, gently stroking her daughter's hair.

Chrissy shook her head, "No, but somewhere hot and dry like Turkey. You won't leave us, will you, mom?!" Chrissy wailed, grabbing Jamie tightly. Gunnul's eyes darkened with the fear that was still fed by her insecurity.

Jamie wrapped one arm around their daughter and reached out with the other to take Gunnul's hand. "No, no matter what happens the three of us will always be a family," she stated confidently. "And we'll send all the love that is inside us shall we, to help the ancient ones find their way too?"

Egypt

It was late when the plane from London touched down in Cairo. Willy waited until most of the five hundred passengers had left in a swarm to wait in an equally large swarm to get their luggage. Willy had only a carry on. Years in the military had taught her to travel light. She walked down the dusty green hallway and stood on the yellow line painted on the floor, waiting for the guard in the ill fitting wool uniform to indicate that she could move forward. The passport stamping was little more than a formality. Egypt was eager to welcome any tourist these days. Since the "incident" tourism had dropped from three million visitors a year to one. Willy knew this. Willy had researched very carefully over the last few months in hospital.

She picked up her passport and walked across the airport lobby. At this hour, the few tourist shops were closed. "Taxi, lady?!" came the bleat of the drivers, who stood in a knot near the entrance. "You speak American? German? Taxi, lady?" Willy moved past them and stepped out into the warm night. The airport sat in sand, built beyond the boundaries of the fertile, green strip that hugged the banks of the Nile River.

Willy walked across the road and looked down into the parking lot situated in a depression. She pointed to the old limo that she thought looked the most roadworthy and a driver kicked off from the side of another vehicle where he had been smoking with a few others. Willy walked down the cement stairs to the lot and over to the limo where the driver waited. "Giza, the Mena House," she commanded. The driver nodded and opened the door for the strange, tall woman. She looked like she had been sick for a very long time.

It was a long trip, across Cairo, over one of the many bridges that cross the Nile and on to Giza. Willy leaned back into the worn leather seat smelling of heat and dust and tried to control the shaking in her hands. She felt strangely detached and she knew that her speech was slightly slurred. The effects of the drugs still came out when she was over tired. She would have to be careful at the hotel. The taxi turned left, passed the guard at the gate, and entered the hotel grounds. The Mena House was a sprawling hotel, extended year after year as the tourist trade mushroomed. The oldest section had been built in the 1800's for the Victorians who had come to steal the local heritage.

She had learned that from Cheops, she remembered, as she paid the driver and allowed the footman to take her overnight bag. She followed, a little unsteady on her feet. Booking in took some time as the Egyptians seemed to love paper work and Willy needed to write slowly and carefully. With relief, she finally walked out of the main building and crossed through the garden oasis to the west wing. One flight up, turn right, third door, then double check the number before slipping in the room card and opening the door. There could be no mistakes.

Out of habit, she smelt for body odor, listened for breathing, checked for movement or shadows. Then she turned and locked the door before she went to the window and balcony door and made sure they were secure. Her bag was already sitting on the luggage rack, her bed was turned down and on the T.V. the in-house computer service had left a message of welcome. Willy flicked the T.V. off, stripped down, and fell into bed. The drugs were playing hell with her over-tired system tonight and every joint ached.

Cheops woke slowly, her alarm set to ring at intervals, raising her step by sleepy step to consciousness. This was always the worst time - when she lay alone in her bed in the morning and the house was still and quiet. She sighed and pushed herself to a sitting position and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The one leg had no foot or ankle, just a stump.

She covered it quickly with her prosthesis and went about the morning rituals of facing another day. The next two weeks were going to be difficult. She was leading a tour. "The Archaeological Tour of the Nile #2" to be precise. She had done so for a good many years. It helped pay the bills. Shortage of funds was a way of life for field archaeologists. It was the problem of adequate funding that was on Cheops' mind as she dressed and prepared a traditional Middle East breakfast of pita bread, goat cheese, and black olives. Popping a sweet date into her mouth to finish off her breakfast, she picked up her Tilley hat and sunglasses and stepped out of her mud brick house to face another day. The house was in Giza and had originally belonged to her parents. It was a humble village home but it had a number of wonderful advantages. First, it was less than an hour's drive from downtown Cairo and second, from her backyard, she could see the great pyramid of Cheops towering over the desert.

Her parents had done their research in the field of grave sites of lower officials that rest in the shadow of the great pyramid. The great pyramid towered 496 feet into the sky and was the largest single human structure ever built. Cheops had been named after it. So after her parents had died, she had kept the small mud house. When she wasn't living in her apartment in Luxor or lecturing at Leeds University back in England, she would stay here.

With a sigh, she popped her Tilley hat on and stepped outside to face another day. She picked up the dusty path that cut behind the main streets and headed across the stony desert towards the Mena House. She knew that the tour bus would already be waiting there. It was early yet, the sun barely over the horizon. She thought she might walk around the hotel's green, tropical gardens before she went to the main lobby to gather up her bewildered tourists for their two week glimpse of five thousand years of history.

Willy saw her first and bent over with the force of emotions that washed through her and settled as a gut eating mass in her stomach. She stepped back into the shadows and watched as Cheops came down the stairs with a pronounced limp and walked slowly around the pale blue pool and tropical gardens. She is just as beautiful as I remember, Willy thought. Her leg must not have healed properly. It didn't matter; she would be dead soon.

Cheops was enjoying the lush green of the oasis garden when suddenly a tall shadow loomed in front of her. With a gasp she stepped back and then felt the blood drain from her face as she saw Will standing in front of her.

"Hello, Cheops," Willy said quietly.

Cheops recognized the dangerous tone and checked her movement forward to touch the taller woman. Will looked terrible. Gaunt and pale. She looked around quickly for a way to escape. A footman and gardener were on the terrace above them. If she had to, she could call to them. No. She would be dead before she could get a word from her lips. She could see the look of hate in the ice cold eyes and she knew she was facing death.

"Hello, Will," Cheops forced out between tight lips, "I never thought I'd see you again."

The tall woman nodded and Cheops waited for what would happen next.

"I'm on the tour," Willy revealed.

Cheops head shot up, "What?! What sort of crap are you up to, Kyrtsakas?! You and I both know you don't give a damn about archaeology! What kind of game is this!?"

Willy's face was cut stone. "I'm going to kill you, Cheops. Like you killed my son by taking him with you when I had told you not to. But not right away, no. No, I want you to feel it coming. I want you to die with the same look of horror frozen on your face as my son."

"So I'm to be afraid? Of what? I watched OUR children murdered. Was left to die by the woman I loved. It was weeks before I even knew where my daughter was buried. And you want me to fear a little thing like death? Well, I don't. Kill me when ever you feel like it, Kyrtsakas. I don't give a damn." Cheops turned and walked back down the path. She could feel those cold eyes following as she took the stairs again in an uneven gait.

Willy waited until she was out of sight and then followed the same path. In the lobby of the hotel, she stood in a far corner watching Cheops greet her group. A slight tremor in the hand but the face was smiling and the voice clear, warm and pleasant. You're good Cheops, really good. But then I fell in love with you because of your bravery that first day.

It had been the end of summer and the heat had beat down in sweltering waves. Dust hazed the air and streaked faces as sweat trickled down from saturated hat rims. Major Kyrtsakas had walked down the market street to pick up some fruit to take back to the hotel. She had lingered enjoying the banter, smells and exotic culture. She hated shopping but somehow these open area markets always gave her a sense of peace.

The commotion ahead had exploded in loud voices onto the market scene. Instinctively, Kyrtsakas had moved forward. There an angry woman with short strawberry blond hair was screaming, in Egyptian, at a man that she had pinned to the ground with a broom handle.

As near as Kyrtsakas could make out as she stood with a grin, her arms crossed, watching, was that the man in question had tried to steal the lady's satchel with disastrous results. The market people seemed to know the woman and were supporting her side with much laughter. Then out the corner of her eye, Willy saw the knife. She hurled herself at the woman sending them both flying. The knife caught the skin of Willy's arm before it buried itself in a wood door.

The crowd surged forward in concern yelling for the police and offering help. In the confusion, the thief slipped away. No doubt to meet his accomplice, the knife thrower, at some planned location.

"Wow! That was close! Thanks!" smiled the petite woman getting up on her knees. "I'm Cheops Malone."

Willy smiled back. "Major Wilhelminia Kyrtsakas," she responded holding out her own hand. The small hand she grasped was surprisingly strong.

"Hey! You've been hurt!" Cheops exclaimed seeing for the first time the blood soaking down Willy's arm.

Willy got to her feet pulling Cheops up as she did. "It's okay. I'll see to it back at the hotel," she murmured, turning to walk off.

"No! My house is not far from here. Let me clean it properly and give you a tetanus shot," Cheops had argued. And perhaps because of the heat, and her loneliness for her son, who was still back in school in England, she had agreed.

They had walked a few blocks to the outskirts of Giza and entered a small mud brick home. Inside, the walls were plastered and painted with scenes from ancient Egypt. The furniture was wood, plain and practical. Along the walls were the sofas piled with cushions and rugs in the eastern style. Willy had sat at the table and Cheops had cleaned her arm, disinfected and bandaged it and had then given her a shot. She had stayed for dinner, met Cheop's daughter and never really left, at least not until the incident.

Willy let the memories fade out and checked out with professional interest the people that would be on the tour. There were only a few. A New York couple with the loud, flat accent that stereotyped them. A new-age couple carrying their reference book and looking intense. They were from Salt Lake. Lastly, there was an older man traveling with a rather bored looking son. Cheops was handing out information packages and name tags. With one left, she came over and handed it to Willy.

"I need to talk to you," she said, a worried frown on her face. "I'll see you later."

Willy's face did not show the surprise she was feeling. She merely nodded and watched as Cheops sighed and turned to walk back to the others. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let's board our minibus to go to the Cairo museum." Cheops smiled happily and led the group forward. Willy followed a few steps behind.

On the drive from Giza back to Cairo, Cheops talked about the history of Egypt, explaining that there had been three major empires in its ancient history: the early, middle and late kingdoms. She then went on and talked about the Greek invasion under Alexander the Great, the Roman influence by Caesar and Anthony and in modern times the colonization by Britain and eventually the road to freedom under Nasser.

At the museum, she got the tickets and led everyone through the tight security then let them go to see the exhibits on their own. As always, to Cheops' amusement, they made a bee line to the area where King Tut's artifacts were kept. As an archaeologist, she knew that there were far more significant pieces of ancient history stuck in the dusty corners of this famous museum than were found in Tut's tomb but people loved gold and mystery and Carter's Dig had lots of both!

She turned to see Willy waiting. "I just wanted to say that I'm not going to be a willing victim. I don't want to die. But I'm not afraid to either and I'm not afraid of you. But I am worried that you might hurt the tourist trade of Egypt when it can least afford anymore bad publicity. All I'm asking is that if you should succeed in this mad revenge, do it in a way that won't reflect badly on Egypt."

"Agreed," Willy responded and Cheops nodded and after a second, walked off. Willy's eyes followed her, admiration reflected in the cold blue.

Cheops walked passed the book and souvenir counter then turned down a hall that she knew would take her to a small open air courtyard. It was a quiet oasis inside the famous museum, away from the crowds of tourists, where a person could think.

She could notify the police that she had been threatened but with the extreme steps the government of Egypt was taking to protect tourists from more "incidents" it would be unlikely that they would have the man power to protect her from a trained killer such as Will. That's if they believed her at all!

She could notify the R.A.F. that one of their officers had gone over the edge but she wasn't sure that Will was still attached to the military. It appeared, anyway, that she was here as a civilian. The military would not see it as their responsibility if they took the claim of a threat seriously.

She did have a colleague at Leeds, Roger, who she knew had worked with soldiers who had experienced war trauma. It might be a good idea to contact him for some advice.

No, there were only two ways out of this situation, either Will was going to make good on her threat or Cheops was going to have to talk her out of her plan. The second scenario seemed the most appealing, Cheops concluded with a bitter smile. But how do you reason with a person as passionate and focused as Will? And was she mentally stable? She looked and acted as if there was something very wrong. She'd noticed the other tourists looking at her in apprehension. There was a slight slur to her speech and a tremor to her hands and a stiffness in her movements that was unlike the woman she had fallen helplessly in love with.

She had put her exhausted daughter to bed that night with promises that Willy would be invited back soon. The stiff soldier had mellowed with the arrival of her daughter and the three of them had played soccer together in the desert behind the house. When she returned to the living room, she had offered Will a Turkish coffee and they had talked late into the night, each enjoying the other's company and the heady sexual tension that lay beneath the subtle teasing and flattery.

She had been surprised to find Willy had a son, the product of a long and turbulent affair with a fellow officer that had ended with the soldier's death in the Gulf War. Cheops told Willy about her unhappy marriage to a college professor that had ended shortly after the birth of her daughter. He had not been interested in raising a family. Cheops had returned to her maiden name and was happily raising her child as a single mom.

When Will was leaving, with a promise to return the next night, they had stood awkwardly for a moment. Then Will had leaned down, hesitated for a second in case Cheops had wanted to step away, and captured the archaeologist's lips with her own. Cheops surrendered without a fight and welcomed the warrior into her heart.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14