Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [30]
Around us, people were speaking in every possible language. French seemed to be the most common after Arabic, but I heard snippets of German and Italian as well. Somehow, though, we fell into the correct line behind Anni and began the arduous passage through two separate security checks. Anni led the way, holding all our tickets in one hand, and no one asked for our identification at all. They screened our carry-ons very thoroughly, however, taking their time with each bag. As Kyla’s bag went through, the bored security inspector perked up and made a gesture to two guards, who pulled her aside.
To my surprise, Alan immediately wheeled out of line and stood just behind Kyla, like a protective brother. Or so I hoped. I tried to hang back to wait for her, too, but Anni hurried over.
“Go and wait by the luggage and make sure your bag makes it onto the cart,” she ordered.
Airports make me nervous anyway, but any hint that my bag might not be where it was supposed to be made my adrenalin surge. I rushed over to the cart and to my relief saw both my bag and Kyla’s. A couple of porters began straining against the huge overflowing cart, pushing it away to be loaded onto the plane. I looked back and saw Kyla and Alan still talking with the airport security people. From this angle, it looked as though Alan was searching through Kyla’s bag while she was busy arguing with the guards. Very odd, but maybe he was trying to prove there wasn’t anything in there. More importantly, was he just being friendly with me in the papyrus shop, or had we actually had a moment? Maybe he was interested in Kyla after all. What puzzled me was why he seemed so interested in her bag.
Anni joined them and began sorting it all out. Frowning to myself, I joined the rest of the group and found myself beside Nimmi.
“I’ll be surprised if we see any of our luggage again,” she said. “You’d think security would be a little tighter here. Look at them, just taking all the bags in one great big pile.”
“I’m sure they run them through a scanner,” I said. “That’s pretty much what they do at home.”
Still, she did have a point. The bright red WorldPal baggage tags seemed to be giving our suitcases speedy and preferential treatment.
“Where’s your lesser half?” Ben Carpenter cheerfully asked Nimmi. Lydia had apparently just finished a cigarette, and the two of them were rejoining the group. The faint smell of smoke hovered about them like an acrid perfume.
Nimmi rolled her eyes and gestured with her chin. “Look at him. Like a big kid.”
We followed her gaze to a group of small shops, hardly more than stalls separated by racks of merchandise, lining a wall. To my eyes, each one was almost identical. Racks of scarves, cheap tote bags, t-shirts, and small souvenirs crammed into the space of a small closet. The only variation as far as I could tell was the volume and intensity of each respective shopkeeper. They called, shouted, flattered, and wheedled every passerby with incredible enthusiasm. Or, I should say, every non-Egyptian passerby. The Egyptians were able to walk by in relative peace. In front of one stall, we could see DJ haggling happily with a vendor for some trinket or other. Big and boisterous, he looked like he was having the time of his life, a huge smile flashing white in his dark face. I felt a little envious. Even here in the airport, I was too intimidated to try my hand at haggling.
Nimmi now looked around, then turned to Lydia. “Your niece? Where is she?”
“Sitting over there,” answered Lydia, pointing. “She’s better, but still pretty weak, poor thing. I was worried she’d be too dehydrated to travel, but Anni is going to arrange for her to go directly to the hotel when we get to Aswan. Anni’s quite marvelous, isn’t she?”
We all agreed that Anni was indeed marvelous. I glanced over to where the niece was sitting and saw a dark-haired girl wearing dark glasses slumped forward in one of the uncomfortable plastic airport seats, resting her forehead on one hand. I couldn’t see her face, but she did indeed look