“Most of the pharaohs of the New Kingdom were buried near there,” he said. “It just so happens the tomb I’m searching for isn’t Egyptian, but Macedonian.”
“You don’t mean Alexander the Great?”
“Very good, my boy. You know your history.”
Dirk shook his head. “Isn’t he believed to be buried somewhere under the streets of Alexandria?”
“Could be. Some think he’s buried at Siwa Oasis out in the desert. Others think he might be somewhere else.” The old man raised an arched brow in knowing insightfulness.
Dirk nodded. “I hope you find it.”
“Someone will eventually. Might as well be Margy, Bess, Mauser, and me.” He motioned toward the sleeping dachshund. “What are you kids doing on this part of Nasser?”
“Diving on the city of Faras.” Dirk explained their quest for the Tutankhamun memorial. He left out the attack on their boat.
“I guess there are a few ancient mysteries still hidden under these waters on account of the Aswan Dam. What interests you in the Tut memorial?”
“The reference to a curative called the Apium of Faras.”
The old man shook his head. “Never heard of it. Scientists are finding cures for disease in all kinds of odd plants and marine life these days. I suppose someone might see riches in discovering an ancient remedy, or in keeping it out of someone else’s hands. It seems a lot of folks, for one reason or another, are searching for the secrets of the ancient Egyptians.”
“We’re not fully sure of its significance ourselves,” Summer said.
“History has a way of offering clues if you look hard enough. Sometimes, they’re even right in front of you.”
He rose and stretched his legs as the ferry began to slow. The dachshund also woke and stretched, following at the man’s heels.
“I guess we’ll be off,” the man said. “Good luck with your quest.”
“And you as well,” Dirk said.
The ferry pulled into Abu Simbel, bumping to a stop against the same concrete dock Dirk and Summer had departed from a few hours earlier. The old man gathered his camels and led them off the boat, then trudged across town with the dachshund following right behind.
“Crazy old coot,” Summer said.
“Crazy like a fox,” Dirk said. “He had some interesting insights.”
“And we’ve got potentially more.” She held up her camera. But her face turned to a grimace as she glanced across the inlet. The cabin cruiser that had tried to run them down sat beached on the far shore.
She turned to Dirk. “You think they’re waiting for us?”
He looked at the boat. There was no mooring line to shore. “Looks like a rushed landing. I suspect they’re long gone. Maybe Ozzie can tell us who they were.”
“He said the hotel was this way.” Summer stepped off the dock and up a dirt road.
Dirk caught up with her, shaking his head. “This is going to be a costly night’s lodging,” he muttered.
“How so?”
“Two rooms, dinner, and a speedboat. All on top of a brand-new Vespa.”
Summer laughed. “Remind me never to let you borrow my car.”
The wide grin on Ozzie Ackmadan’s face faded at the news of his lost boat. His joviality returned once Dirk offered to buy him a new replacement.
“I’m not sure what happened,” Dirk said. “I think the small white cabin cruiser at the dock may have accidentally rammed it while we were diving.”
“That is my cousin’s boat,” Ackmadan said. He was on the phone an instant later. After a brief yet animated conversation, he held the phone aside. “My cousin says he rented the boat this morning to two Cairo men who paid cash. He doesn’t recall their names. He’s waiting for them to return the boat and keys.”