Alien Genes 1: Daughter of Atuk Read online

  Her hand flew instinctively to her neck. “My necklace—it's gone!"

  Robert swore aloud. “Those little bastards. If I catch them...” He clenched his fists in anger.

  Close to tears, she shook her head. “I should have known better than to wear my necklace..."

  It was a shattering loss. For years she'd cherished the jewellery, worn it every day and never let it out of her sight. Now it was snatched away from her—by a bunch of children.

  “I wish I could...” Robert seethed. “We'll have to report it to the police. They might be able to get it back for us."

  “I doubt that. It was stupid of me to wear it here. I just never thought...” She choked back the tears.

  “Excuse me, Sir.” The stranger spoke almost perfect English. His face was partially hidden by his traditional outfit, which seemed somewhat out of place in the modern city. He held out his hand towards Robert, studiously ignoring Cathy, “I believe this is your wife's."

  Cathy's eyes flashed towards the stranger's hand. She couldn't help but notice that the man had slender, well-manicured hands, but the observation faded into the background when she saw what he was holding. An unspeakable relief flooded through her. “My necklace!"

  She eagerly reached out to it. As she took it from him, her fingers touched his hand briefly and she felt a jolt of recognition. Her gaze searched his face, but before she could get a good look, he'd already turned away.

  Robert had taken the man's hand and shook it elatedly. “Thank you. How can we repay you?"

  “No need.” The stranger's answer was curt, and he hurried away.

  Robert's face fell as he watched the man depart. “What a strange man. Didn't even want a ‘Thank you'."

  Cathy didn't answer. She was clasping the necklace as if she would never let it go again. Her stare followed the stranger as he disappeared into the crowd. There was something about him ... That touch ... It reminded her of someone. If only she'd been able to get a good look at him, but it happened too quickly.

  Robert interrupted her thoughts. “How on earth did he get hold of it?"

  Cathy shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “Who cares? He brought back my necklace. That's all that matters."

  But her words belied her thoughts.

  Robert was right. If the street kids had taken it, how did he get them to give it to him? And how did he know it was hers? The only explanation was that he had to have seen the whole thing happening. Had he been watching us?

  “Well, that nearly ruined our day. Still feel like having something to eat?” Robert said brusquely, clearly trying to shrug off the incident.

  For a moment Cathy didn't know how to react. She was still reeling with shock. But then she decided that his approach was probably better.

  She answered as sprightly as she could, “Why not? If we can find Abdul somewhere."

  As if called, Abdul suddenly appeared in front of them. Robert slapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, here he is. We thought we'd lost you. Where were you anyway?"

  “My aunt has a stall close by. I went to say hello.” Abdul said. He seemed blissfully unaware of what had happened, but Cathy sensed he was lying. Why? What reason could he possibly have for lying, unless ... It was a ridiculous thought and she put it out of her mind at once. He couldn't have been involved in her necklace being stolen, could he?

  “Could you take us to the Sheraton?” Robert asked.

  “Yes,” Abdul agreed and walked ahead of them to the car.

  Back in the car, Robert leaned towards Abdul in the driver's seat. “Did you know we were almost robbed back there?"

  “No."

  Surprisingly enough, Abdul seemed sincerely upset and Cathy wondered if he was honest or just a very good actor. “They stole your money?"

  “No. They stole my necklace,” she answered mechanically while checking it. “Damn, the clasp's broken."

  Abdul looked at her in the rear-view mirror. “I can have it fixed for you,” he offered.

  Cathy hesitated. She didn't want to lose the necklace again. It had too much sentimental value for her. “I don't know..."

  “I will take good care of it,” Abdul said convincingly.

  She looked at the necklace again. The clasp had to be fixed. Without it, she couldn't wear it anyway. There wasn't much of a choice. “Fine. As long as it's done before I leave the country again,” she said, still not certain it was a good idea.

  “Yes, Ma'am. You give it to me. I will take it there.” He took the necklace from her and put it on the seat next to him.

  “Thanks, Abdul.” She sighed and looked out the window, but hardly noticed any of the buildings they passed. For the last six years she'd been wearing the necklace without ever taking it off. She couldn't explain why, but for some reason she never wanted to remove it. Her hand slid up to her neck. She hoped Abdul had it fixed soon. Without it she felt exposed ... vulnerable.

  “That man...” Robert leaned back, pondering. “There was something about him...” His voice trailed off as he thought.

  Cathy frowned and looked at her colleague. “What do you mean?"

  “I don't know. There was something different about him...” Robert said, staring up at the roof of the car. “It'll come to me."

  For quite some time the three people in the car were silent. Cathy watched the building style change slowly as Abdul negotiated the traffic. Although the air conditioning kept them cool in the heat of the day, Cathy felt hot and sweaty. In fact, she hadn't been feeling well at all since leaving Hasan's house. Could she be getting sick?

  Robert suddenly sat up. “That's it!” he exclaimed.

  “What?” Cathy asked, trying to sound interested, but she was feeling suddenly tired. The last thing she wanted was to hear Robert's analysis of the Good Samaritan.

  “That's what struck me as odd,” he said, turning to face her.

  “What?"

  “His eyes. They were green."

  Cathy shrugged, staring out of the window again. “So? Lots of Middle-Eastern people have blue or green eyes. It's not unusual."

  “Yeah, but his eyes were really green,” he insisted.

  “His eyes weren't just green, they were really green...” she mocked. She saw him frown, and felt instantly remorseful.

  What is it with me? Why am I struggling to keep my emotions in check?

  It wasn't like her to be so edgy, and she couldn't blame him for being upset—her comment was uncalled for.

  The rest of the afternoon, Robert was extraordinarily quiet and she felt the feelings of guilt grow. She hadn't intended to hurt his feelings, but how could she explain that to him?

  * * * *

  It was much later when they returned to Professor Al-Abud's home, and in the sweltering heat outside it was a welcome sight.

  Once inside, Robert decided to return to his room. He'd hardly spoken a word to her and mumbled something about ‘suffering from jet lag'. Cathy said nothing, silently hoping he'd be in a better mood later. She looked around. The house intrigued her and she wanted to see more of it. So, after freshening up in her room, she sauntered down the passage, studying the artefacts and paintings against the wall. Her sandaled feet barely made a sound on the cool, tiled floor.

  A servant approached her politely. “We serve afternoon tea in the drawing room."

  “Oh. Thank you,” Cathy said, not sure which way the drawing room was. She was surprised that the Professor would observe the tradition of serving afternoon tea. The thought crossed her mind that he may have spent some time in the British Isles. It would explain the slight British nuance in his accent. Yet his curriculum vitae gave no indication that he had.

  “Fourth door, left,” the servant said with a brief smile that didn't reach his eyes.

  “Thank you.” Had her lack of direction been so obvious?

  The servant disappeared back into the cool shadows of the passage. Cathy turned back to study the painting. She wasn't in a rush to get to the drawing room. The Professor's collect
ion was simply too fascinating. It was quite unusual—not the type of artefacts one would expect a Professor in Egyptology to collect. But then, what would one expect him to collect? Every person was unique.

  She leisurely walked further down the passage until she reached the fourth door on the left, and pushed it open. The room wasn't exceptionally large, but like the others, it was elaborately decorated. On a corner table a variety of snacks and tea were attractively set out on a delicately embroidered cloth. Only the finest white bone china had been used. The care Professor Al-Abud had given his guests impressed her. No effort was spared to make them feel at home.

  The tea was a welcome relief after the morning's happenings. She poured herself a cupful and was about to sit down when she noticed a half-open door on the opposite side of the passage. She could see a stand with books and realised it had to be the library. Her natural inquisitiveness took over and she put down her tea.

  She strode across the passage and slipped through the door. The room was enormous—much larger than the other rooms she'd seen—and it was filled with hundreds of books. She'd never seen such a huge private collection and marvelled at the sight. Most of the books were well-worn, showing their age, and she was intrigued. She took one of them from the rack and turned to the first page. It was an original copy, dated 1865. She placed it back carefully, and took out another one. It dated from the eighteenth century, as did the next one. She checked some more of the tomes. Most of them were original copies dating from before the twentieth century. Some manuscripts were even older, handwritten and dating from before the printing press was invented. All of them were about ancient history—and particularly about Ancient Egypt. She was stunned. How had he managed to get such a collection together? Judging from the state of most of the books, their owners had been very particular. They'd been remarkably well preserved.

  There was no doubt in her mind that Professor Al-Abud had one of the most comprehensive and oldest private collections of books she'd ever seen. He had to have gone to great lengths and expense to collect such a mass of books.

  She sat down on a well-worn ottoman in the corner. It felt a bit lumpy, but nevertheless still comfortable. She scanned the room, taking it all in.

  Unexpectedly, the door opened and a well-clad man in ancient-style Egyptian robes walked in. “Your Highness, your classes are starting."

  Cathy stared at him blankly. “My classes?"

  “Yes, hurry up now. You are already late,” he urged.

  “I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not going to any classes,” she said, taken aback.

  “My apologies, Your Highness, but the High Council has given strict instructions that you attend the classes.” He handed her a pack of bound scrolls. “Please take these with you."

  Baffled, she took the scrolls. They seemed official. When she looked up again, he was gone. She looked around, and then down at her hand. It was empty. There was nothing there; it dawned on her that she'd been hallucinating. Alarmed she got up and hurried back to the drawing room. She poured more tea, hands trembling, wondering if she was going completely crazy. A manservant suddenly entered and she flinched and spilled the tea into the saucer. He glanced at her briefly before hurrying out again when he saw that she was still busy with the refreshments.

  Not long after that, she heard footsteps coming down the passage. They were a man's footsteps—heavier than those of a woman, but still light and agile. She knew instinctively that they were Hasan's. She heard the steps stop briefly in front of the library. A door clicked closed before the steps continued to the drawing room.

  “Dr. McNeal, I imagined it was you sitting here. Did you have an agreeable day?"

  She forced out a smile. “It was an ... interesting day."

  “Is that so?” He seemed surprised.

  “Yes.” She suddenly felt tired and reluctant to share the day's experiences with him and changed the topic. “I hope I didn't intrude, but I saw your library."

  His demeanour suddenly changed. “Oh?"

  “Yes, I'm impressed by your collection. It must have taken you years to put all that together."

  “Yes, indeed.” He suddenly seemed rushed, apparently unwilling to answer any more of her questions. “You must excuse me for a few moments. I have some business to which I have to attend. I will see you later, yes?"

  “Yes,” Cathy said, taken aback by his sudden abruptness.

  Did I offend him by going into his library?

  It wasn't as if the room had been locked. His reaction struck her as odd. Surely, he'd be proud of such a huge collection of originals? She took a cookie off the plate and sipped her tea pensively, wondering what had happened to her in the library.

  “Oh, here you are. I was looking for you in the dining room, but the servants told me you were here.” Robert was remarkably relaxed after the morning's events. He didn't seem to hold a grudge that she'd hurt his feelings earlier on. “I just bumped into Professor Al-Abud and told him about what happened with your necklace."

  “Oh? What did he say?"

  Robert motioned with his hand. “He seemed upset that something like that could happen to his guests,” he said, examining her face. “You seem very pale. Are you feeling okay?"

  She caught his eye and nodded. “Yes. Yes, thank you. I'm still a bit jet-lagged. I'll be fine in a day or so.” She could see he wasn't convinced. He was about to ask her something when Professor Al-Abud walked into the room.

  “Dr. McNeal, Dr. Pearson tells me that your necklace was stolen this morning?"

  Her tone was neutral. “Yes, but a local man returned it to me."

  “I am very sorry to hear that,” he said before quickly correcting himself, “I mean, that it was taken from you. It was an unfortunate incident."

  She narrowed her eyes. He seemed ... disappointed. Why?

  “Yes, it was,” she answered calmly. “Unfortunately, the clasp was broken. I gave it to Abdul. He assured me he knew someone who could fix it."

  “Very good. He is a very resourceful man. The man who returned the necklace—who was he?” the Professor pried.

  Before she could answer, Robert had intervened. “No idea. He didn't introduce himself. He didn't even give us much of a chance to thank him."

  “Did you see what he looked like?"

  “Not really. I noticed he had green eyes. That was about it,” Robert said musingly. Cathy glanced at him. Did he realise how inane he sounded?

  “And you, Dr. McNeal? Did you see him?” Hasan had turned to her, and she could feel the gaze from his dark eyes resting on her.

  She shook her head. “No. In fact, I didn't get a good look at him at all. He was standing with his back towards me. I was just too happy to have my necklace back.” She tilted her head slightly, suddenly cautious. Why was it so important to know whether she knew the man? How could she? She'd never been there before.

  As if reading her thoughts, Hasan said, “I was interested. It does not happen often that someone has something taken from him or her then has it returned immediately. I was wondering if it perhaps had been a policeman."

  “No, definitely not.” Robert's tone was unwavering. “This guy wasn't a policeman. I don't think he was an ordinary guy. He just seemed different ... somehow..."

  Cathy had had about enough talking about the stranger. She didn't want to be reminded of how stupid she'd been wearing her jewellery in an unfamiliar area.

  “What is your fascination with this guy? He did a good deed. Good on him! Can we please drop it now?"

  Both men looked at her, stunned. They clearly hadn't expected such a sudden outburst.

  After a moment of astonished silence, Robert was the first to react. “Are you alright?"

  She frowned. “What do you mean?” she said irritably.

  “You seem upset.” He seemed genuinely concerned and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The truth was she was upset she'd nearly lost the one thing that had meant anything to her—the only thing that reminded her o
f Eqin.

  Somewhere in the house, someone rang a bell. It was a gentle, peaceful sound that cut through the tension in the room.

  Professor Al-Abud gestured in the direction of the dining room. “Dinner is ready. Shall we go?"

  They followed him out the room. Cathy kept her distance. She was still a bit embarrassed at the flare-up of emotion. She usually managed so well hiding her feelings. What is happening?

  Walking down the passage, Robert addressed Hasan. “You have a very interesting mix of cultures in your home, Professor. Quite unusual."

  The other man nodded in acknowledgement. “I have spent many years travelling, and everywhere I went I picked up a little bit of culture and took it with me. I spent considerable time in England and became used to some of their traditions, and I introduced them here."

  “That would explain the great variety of artefacts you have on display."

  “Indeed. Few are worth anything. Most are simply sentimental."

  But Hasan didn't appear keen on discussing his travels, and changed the topic. “We will join the rest of the team sometime next week. We are still waiting for some of the others to arrive."

  “Oh, good,” Robert said.

  “In the meantime, please enjoy yourselves,” Hasan offered cordially.

  Robert nodded, and Cathy knew he had every intention of enjoying himself. If only she could too, but she felt uneasy. If only she could pinpoint the cause of her feelings.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  The days passed quickly and were relatively uneventful. Cathy found the city to be pleasantly different to what she was used, and she and Robert spent most of their time sightseeing while waiting for the final members of the excavation team to arrive.

  Abdul hadn't yet returned her necklace and she'd expressed her concern to Robert, but he fobbed it off. It was patently clear he didn't share her concern nor understand her feelings. To him it was nothing more than a necklace.