Regardless of what was really happening, Grant, and everyone else in the Scales of Anubis’ way, would be doomed.
It begged the question.
Why didn’t Baahir’s mother turn the jar to dust if she, ultimately, knew what it would be used for?
Chapter 44
Zahra
So far, the people of Levanzo had been nothing but gracious. Even the chief of police was a gentleman. When he and his partner showed up, they quickly put in a call for a tow truck to haul the plane to the ferry guard’s cousin’s house. As it were, the tow truck belonged to the cousin, and pilot, Vincenzo. He was a man of many hats, apparently. Only one of the motorists had complained about being run off the road, and even he had left without much more than a fist shake.
“This is the most excitement we’ve seen in months,” Chief Stefano explained.
Zahra grinned. “Well, then, I’m happy to have been of service to you and your people.”
“Yes, thank you.” Stefano let out a boisterous laugh. “Your Italian,” he said, switching to English, “it is impressive.”
“Grazie,” Zahra replied. “I couldn’t not learn the ‘real’ language of love.”
Stefano smiled and waved the tow truck over as it pulled in. “Signorina Kane, this is Vincenzo Barone. He is, like you say, a Swiss Army knife. He does it all!”
Vincenzo tipped his cap to the police chief. “Grazie, Stefano. Thank you kindly.”
The versatile local backed his truck up to the Cessna and climbed out. He and the much taller Cork went over the best way to rig the tow cable and then speedily went about attaching it. Zahra and George stood off to the side and watched the boats come in and out of port. Gathered around their feet were the trio’s belongings. Neither of the Kanes spoke again until Cork prompted them.
“You ready?”
Zahra spun. “Yeah. So, what do we do for tonight?”
Cork pointed at the mechanic. “Vincenzo says there’s a place down the road that can put you two up for the night.”
“Just us?” Zahra asked. “You aren’t coming?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m going to help him with my plane. No one knows my bird better than me.” She flicked her eyebrows. “But he did mention that he has a rollout at his place if I do want to get some sleep.”
Zahra wasn’t exactly sure if the local had meant it in the way that Cork was hoping, but she wasn’t going to be the one to burst the woman’s bubble. All four people piled into Vincenzo’s heavy-duty, four-door tow truck. It was just like the models that were used to transport disabled big rigs on the highways.
The first thing they did was drop the Cessna off at his shop. It was only a ten-minute drive from the port, north across the island’s interior. Vincenzo and Cork unhooked the plane from the vehicle’s winch and climbed back inside. After another short drive, they arrived at a charming cottage right smack on the water.
“Sofia will be by in the morning to see you,” Vincenzo explained. “Key is under the mat.”
Zahra didn’t know what to say. The people of Levanzo were incredibly trusting to outsiders, operating in a very old-fashioned manner. Nowhere in England, or even the United States, would anyone allow you to just waltz into their place unannounced and without payment, or at least an ID. For all Sofia knew, she could be harboring fugitives.
And Zahra sort of, technically, was.
“Grazie, Vincenzo. And please, whatever you can do to get our plane operational would be much appreciated.”
He glanced over at Cork, and then back to Zahra. “Based on what Cork here has told me about her plane, I don’t see why the two of us can’t get it back in the air by morning.” He waved. “Goodnight, Signorina.” Then, he tipped his ballcap at George. “Signor.”
George waved back and looked at his daughter. Both were dumbfounded. “Remind me to come back here again when all this is over.”
Zahra nodded. “Same here. This place is…”
“Unusual?”
She laughed. “I was going to say, unbelievable, but yes, unusual works too.”
Just as Vincenzo had said, the key to the front door was under the front doormat. Zahra still couldn’t fathom the trust the people here had in one another, let alone with complete strangers. Based what she had seen from the aircraft earlier, Levanzo was a very small island. It couldn’t have more than three or four hundred year-round inhabitants. Were all of them as welcoming as Stefano and Vincenzo? Even the port guard had been kind and understanding.
George did the honors and keyed open the front door. The quaint cottage was impeccably well-maintained. Everything inside was modern, though, not brand-new. The decor was a nice mix of colors, mostly those of the sea. Zahra counted four shades of blue in the kitchen alone. It had been built into the right-hand corner of the great room, just inside the door. The central living space was a high-ceilinged, twenty-by-twenty square with a spiral staircase in the corner that looked like it led up to a loft. But that’s not what Zahra was focused on. She was lost in the view the living room’s balcony offered of the Mediterranean.
“Wow.”
George saw it too. Both father and daughter were instantly transported to another world. Together, they just stood there and allowed the cool, calming breeze to caress their achy, exhausted bodies through the already open French doors. Zahra had no idea what it would cost to stay here for even one night, but whatever it was, it was worth every single penny.
She reached out and took her father’s hand and squeezed it. “We definitely need to come back.”
Chapter 45
Zahra
Zahra hadn’t slept that well in months, and to be honest, she felt terrible about it. Somewhere in Egypt, her brother and Grant were being held captive by a band of lunatics who were trying to reproduce the Biblical plague — a plague, as it were, that was created by ancestors of the group behind it all.
My ancestors…
As much as she’d like to distance herself from these people, Zahra was a part of it. Ayad blood flowed through Zahra’s veins, just as her blood flowed through them. They were family, for better or worse.
Worse, much, much worse. Nothing about this was “for the better.”
Zahra stretched and sat up, wearing a pair of gym shorts and a sports bra. She had spent the night in the loft above the living room and had the space to herself. Her father had insisted that she take the bed since she had had the rougher go of it lately. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and went to stand but stopped. On the nightstand holding her sunglasses was a pamphlet. Curious, Zahra picked it up and saw it for what it was.
It’s a brochure of the island.
There wasn’t much — just locations to take photos and explore and places to eat. The Grotta del Genovese also contained Neolithic cave paintings.
On an island in the Mediterranean Sea?
Zahra guessed that there would be more information as to how cave paintings came to be on Levanzo. At the moment, it didn’t really matter, though. She presumed that the independent landmasses making up the island chain were connected at one point. There was also a shipwreck of a Roman cargo vessel off the eastern shore in the waters of Cala Minnola that had made recent waves in the historical community, though Zahra hadn’t looked into it any deeper than what she read in the headlines. Levanzo wasn’t a sprawling, luxurious getaway. It was a place to relax and recharge, and Zahra had done just that.