69
A few days after the pumps had been reversed in Egypt, the water from the Nile refilled the aquifer and had fractured the rock layers underneath Libya and released billions of gallons of trapped water. It came to the surface in hundreds of places, refilling lakes, wells and city water reserves.
Out at the ruined pumping station in Libya, the water burst through the damaged piping like an oil gusher, falling like rain across the parched ground. It hadn’t yet been capped when Reza—who was walking with a cane—arrived to see it. Instead of hiding from the gusher, he reveled in it, sending videos of it to Paul and Gamay Trout, along with his deepest thanks.
Libya stabilized rapidly once the water began flowing again and the standing government retained control, arresting many who had been part of the attempted coup. The governments in Tunisia and Algeria were also rapidly restructured. Once the antidote to the Black Mist was made available, the ministers who’d been coerced into switching their votes had returned to their original positions of supporting their governments.
Egypt was in another upheaval, with crowds rioting in the streets while new leaders stirred the turmoil. Edo was reinstated in the military and given a promotion to major general.
In Italy, the last of the Lampedusa survivors were released from the hospitals where they had been treated. Most of them went home to resume their lives, while the group that had been attempting to immigrate stayed in Sicily and were granted Italian citizenship.
One of the survivors of the Black Mist took advantage of thanking Kurt Austin personally, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and kissing him, while standing on the stern deck of a small fishing boat off the picturesque Greek island of Mykonos.
“I can’t think of a nicer reward,” said Kurt.
He was wearing a pair of black swim trunks, while Renata looked pretty as a picture in a red bikini. Both were well tanned and as relaxed as they could remember being, while sharing a bottle of Billecart-Salmon Brut Réserve champagne.
Renata pulled back and eased into a hammock that Austin had strung up on the deck. “I still wonder how the Egyptians discovered the secret of the Mist all those centuries ago,” she said between sips of the champagne.
“Centuries of observation,” Kurt replied. “According to the text Emile D’Campion translated, the priests of Osiris noticed that young crocodiles that ate the bullfrogs went into a hypnotic state. Through experimentation, they discovered the frogs could put people into the same deathlike trance. Before long, they were raising the frogs in deep secrecy inside the temples and using the extracts in their ceremonies.”
“But how did they learn to wake people up again?”
“It’s not entirely clear yet,” answered Kurt. “But eventually they realized that the frog’s skin was the key. The same enzyme that woke the frogs was released in the smoke. Once the humans inhaled it, their nervous systems began to return to normal. Though, from what we’ve read, it took months for their recovery to become fully completed.”
Renata sighed. “I guess I should be thankful that the biologists working for Osiris improved on the process.”
He nodded. “Better still, there’s a great deal of research going on into the possible uses of this extract. As the biologist from Shakir’s lab suggested, it’s being tested as a way to put trauma victims into induced comas instead of using harsher drugs. It’s also being proposed for the space program to put astronauts to sleep for long journeys into space to Mars and beyond.”
“Makes me wonder what else the ancient Egyptians knew that we’ve yet to discover.”
“Now that they’ve drained the water from the underground tomb, archaeologists are preparing to make a proper survey. I’m sure they’ll discover enough new information and facts of historical significance to keep them busy for many years.”
Renata lifted a glass and took a sip of the champagne before standing and leaning against him. “What about the Saharianas?” she asked. “Did you ever find out how they got there?”
Kurt nodded. “The soldier we found and the six others drove the vehicles across the desert on a moonless night. They were supposed to lie in wait and harass the English rear guard when Rommel and the rest of the Axis forces made a frontal assault, but Rommel was turned back at El Alamein before he could reach Cairo.”
“So they waited in vain.”
Kurt nodded. “It’s probably the only reason any of them survived. As it turned out, the drivers were Italian Army regulars, but their crews were made up of Italian expatriates who were living in Cairo. At the time, the city had a large Italian population, including the British ambassador’s Italian wife. That’s why the letter suggested the men would be shot as spies if they were caught.”
“Any chance they’ll find Anna-Marie’s family?” Renata asked. “I imagine they’d want to know what happened.”
Kurt finished his glass of champagne and set it on the deck. The boat barely swayed in the calm waters. “Historians from your country are looking for her and any of the soldiers’ kin as we speak.”
She sighed. “I hope they find her. He did the right thing, sending his men home. Why should they have died for a man like Mussolini? Why should anyone?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Kurt. “Especially since those armored cars wouldn’t have been there, waiting for us to come along. Had they gone out to battle, they would have been massacred by the British.”
“So now what?” she asked, stroking one of his arms. “Do we get to stay here forever and drink fine champagne, swim in warm water and sleep in the sun?”
Kurt stared across the turquoise sea. “I fail to see why not.”
Unnoticed behind them, hanging on the railing beside the hull, Zavala threw his dive gear on the deck. “Better go easy on the bubbly. You’re on tap for diving tomorrow. The remains of that Phoenician wreck you found below waits for no man.”
“You have to promise to stay out of my wine cellar,” replied Kurt.
“Surely you jest.” Zavala made a sour face. “You’re talking to a man who never touches that sissy water.”
“And what do you drink?” asked Renata.
Zavala grinned. “Dear heart, you’re talking to a man—a real man—who drinks straight tequila, with lime and salt on the rim, and smokes cigars.”
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