Jon_Potter

'Here' was, of course, The Continental Savoy. Helen was still smarting over the fact that Shepheard's was closed during the summer months, and was therefore unavailable as a place to stop-over. Her second choice had been shot down for a similar reason and her third, The Mena House Hotel, they determined was not a reasonable option given its relative distance from Cairo - even accounting for the tramway. So JD's contact at Kingsley's TransUnion Travel in New York City had made arrangements at the Continental Savoy, a good hotel though definitely a step beneath what Ellie was used to.
They stepped out of the cabs and into a riot of arabs, all vying for a position to assist the westerners with their bags. Pierre, the two cab drivers, and a retinue of porters from the hotel all beat back the rabble indiscriminately, allowing the others to hurry up the steps, across the portico and into the cavernous interior of the Continental Savoy without being pawed too severely.
They checked in without trouble; though arrangements had not been made for Mikhay'el or Pierre, the summer months were lean for the hotel and they made rooms available for Ellie at once. Once they had received their room keys, but before they were escorted to their suites, the man at the front desk handed JD a telegram with his name on it dated a week ago. He tore it open and read it as he walked.
"Professor JD Button [STOP]"
"Received wire from Stafford Evans that you were bringing me package from Miskatonic. [STOP]"
"Will arrive in Cairo on 22nd July. [STOP]"
"See you at your hotel. [STOP]"
"Sincerely, Dr. Ronald Galloway [STOP]"

Later, while everyone else was unpacking, resting or "freshening up" in their rooms, Helen slipped down to the hotel bar to find Jack's former comrade Pierre. He was smoking and gossiping with the dragomen that haunted the steps of this and any well-to-do European establishment in hopes of finding employment. She used her few halting words of Arabic to refute offers of assistance and requests for baksheesh. This was one Arabic word that Helen had come to know well even in during her short time in Egypt. It could be used to signify a tip for some trifling or major service rendered or merely mean a hand out. Wherever Europeans were, there were locals begging for baksheesh.
Spotting Pierre at once, she approached, greeting him in his native tongue. "Bonjour Monsieur La Fou." Pierre stood and she saw his eyes flick to her hand - probably searching for the wedding band she hardly ever wore any more due to the frequent hand-washing necessary for her job.
"Oui Mademoiselle," he said casting aside his poorly-rolled cigarette and smoothing down his mustache with a spit-slicked pinkie finger. "Comment puis-je vous aider?"
"Est-ce que je puis vous poser une question?" Helen stumbled a bit over the words and made a vow to be more assiduous in keeping up with her French in the future. The small man grinned and answered in his broken English, "But of a certainty you may!" He took her hand and bowing deeply, planted a small kiss on it.
"May I buy you a drink while we talk?" she asked politely, this time in English, as she drew her hand back. Pierre escorted her back inside the hotel out of the noisy crowd and as he did so he grinned and repeated, "But of a certainty you may!"

When they were seated, Helen with a very lady-like and proper glass of sherry and Pierre with a lager, Helen removed an old photograph from her pocket and slid it across the table to Pierre. "That is my husband, Captain Gerald Hardcastle. Or was my husband, rather. He disappeared while on assignment for British Military Intelligence during the war. He was somewhere in Egypt or perhaps Palestine. I don't know." Helen took a sip of her sherry to collect her thoughts, while Pierre picked up the timeworn photograph in his dusty fingers. He studied the face and turned the photo over to look at the date written on the back: 11 October, 1914. He smiled politely and slid the picture back toward her.
"In order to get a sabbatical from my hospital and teaching duties to accompany my friends to Egypt, I told a slight lie to my boss about receiving a letter regarding my husband. I thought -- well, I thought it might assuage my conscience just a bit if I actually -- well, I don't know. But you are a Foreign Legion man, have traveled widely in the area, and I'm sure have a great many contacts and acquaintances with former military men..." She let her sentence drift off, because she wasn't sure exactly what she was asking. It was just that, having used Gerry as an excuse had got her thinking more about him than she had in many years, and what harm could it do to show the picture to a few people? She had heard stories, even this many years after the war of men, severely wounded and amnesiac, being reunited with their families through bizarre happenstances.
"You are hoping zat perhaps he is alive, no? Zat perhaps I have seen zis man?" Pierre filled in the blanks and took a swallow of beer. Helen nodded and the frenchman shook his head in response. "Zat picture is ten years old, Madam. Even if I had seen him, he would look much different zan zat picture, no?" Helen sighed and collected the photograph.
"You're right, of course. It's a fool's errand," she admitted, suddenly embarrassed. But Pierre's hand went out and caught hers, keeping her from putting the photograph away.
"Still, we are talking about l'amour," Pierre said with a lop-sided grin. "It does not hurt me to ask around at a few places I know, Madam. Perhaps someone has seen your Capitaine Gerald."

After leaving Pierre in the cafe, on the way back upstairs, Helen passed Jack as he hailed an arab boy and muttered some commands to him in Arabic while pressing some bills into his eager hands. The boy ran off and Jack turned around, starting somewhat upon spotting Helen.
"Doctor," he said by way of greeting and started for the stairs.
"What are you up to, Jack?" Helen asked as she hurried to keep pace with him.

Ellie gripped her handbag cautiously. She had carried large amounts of cash often enough, but nothing that had ever given her the same sense of anxiety she felt clutching her jewel-encrusted accessory now.
Almost against her will, her gaze strayed to JD's latest adornment - a worn canvas satchel strapped across his chest. For the most part, it looked like a perfectly natural extension of the professor's gear. But Ellie knew better. Then there was Helen's black medical bag. The doctor never let the bulky thing out of her sight, yet Ellie was certain that she would refute any well-meaning suggestions of a more fashionable tote. Jack carried nothing unusual, however Ellie strongly suspected that his version of the dagger was secretly housed somewhere on his person in a style worthy of a spy novel. She had caught him patting various parts of his body when he thought no one was looking.
It could be any one of them.
Or Pierre.
Or even Mikhay'el who still thought he had been given the original and, to his credit, had not yet bolted.
The whole idea had been meant as a protection and yet , in the end, had probably taken off years of their lives as the psychology of what they might each be in possession of set in. At least that was the feeling Ellie herself was having. She had taken on one of the seven daggers Jack had purchased with stoic acceptance, but it quickened her blood to think she might be harboring the authentic one. What effect might the curse have if the true dagger was twice-touched? It was a hypothesis she was not prepared to test. Good Lord, she caught herself beginning to think in scientific terms, and instead turned to look out the window to contemplate the night in a foreign city surrounded by endless sand, finding it to be a far more appealing prospect.

Jack thought having each member of the party think they might have the real dagger was a good idea. It would keep the inexperienced crew focused on their mission, not sight-seeing in a strange land or off exploring the local nightclubs. Jack knew though that he should carry the real dagger - that he should bear the responsibility for keeping it safe. He had warned the others not to touch it or risk the same curse that had befallen Ellie. That made it very easy to keep them from discovering that they actually had a non-cursed daggers. It seemed to be working as each member of the party displayed more anxiety than usual. Even JD looked particularly focused, which Jack thought was probably a miracle in and of itself.

Tuesday, July 22nd, 1924

The vision began as they all did: on the banks of the river and from there to the worked fields surrounding the village of mud brick. But this time, events unfolded further and Ellie became aware of a column of men with dark skin and grim expressions. They were dressed in magnificent, finely embroidered robes decorated liberally with brilliant, azure beads and cloth-of-gold that flashed and coruscated in the sunlight as they marched. The men passed her without notice and continued on along the dusty path toward a series of nearby buildings built of stone.
Ellie felt her consciousness drawn along after this column of men like a tethered balloon and she soon found herself in the chill shadow of a white stone edifice. Two huge stone statues, each at least 15 feet high flanked the path, facing sentinel-like away from the building. The statues seemed at first glance to depict some debased sort of squatting monkey, but then as she passed between them, something about their odd, dog-like faces triggered a memory. She recalled, vividly a visit to a zoo in England during which she'd seen these very beasts...

"I recognized something!" Ellie told Helen excitedly. "There were statues of Anubis baboons in front of this great, pillared building." Helen's face was impassive despite the tremendous heat.
"Baboons," she said, checking Ellie's pulse against a watch.
"Yes," Ellie agreed vigorously. "But these were enormous and- And you don't care about them at all, do you?"
"Hmm?" Helen blinked. "Yes, of course, I am. Tell me about-"
"How long was it this time?" Ellie asked, pushing herself up from her bed and fixing the doctor with an intense stare. Helen grimaced.
"A little over a quarter of an hour," she admitted before quickly adding, "But you seem well otherwise." Ellie scoffed and went to look out her window at the bustling throngs in Opera Square below. The sounds and smells of a foreign land billowed up to meet her.
"Oh yes, I'm quite well so long as you discount the growing periods of time that I'm locked in some sort of dream... or vision... or... Oh, I don't know what to call it!" Her voice rose sharp and shrill, a hair's breadth away from complete hysteria.
"Let's call them visions," JD suggested calmly as he came into the room, cooling himself with a small fan of woven palm. "Dreams imply sleep and I don't think we can call the state that comes over you sleeping." He smiled at Ellie and offered her the fan which she eagerly accepted and put to immediate use.
"What are you still doing here, Professor?" Helen asked as she began repacking her instruments."I thought you were going to the Egyptian Museum to do some research."
"I am on vacation," he said, sitting on the bedside and idly turning a medicine vial over in his hands. "I would rather not see a library today." Helen snatched the vial away and returned it to its place in her bag.
"I never thought I'd see the day," she muttered, casually brushing an errant strand of damp hair out of her face.
Still fanning herself, Ellie left the window and disappeared into the adjoining room where they could hear her pouring water into a basin. JD lowered his voice and leaned in toward the doctor.
"These lapses of Ellie's seem to be getting longer, and I'm not sure how much*more the poor dear can take," he confided. "I begin to fear with each passing episode, that she may one day just not awaken from it." Helen nodded.
"Jack mentioned that Butrus predicted this progression," she said. "And so far he's been spot on about it. Every four days the duration doubles."
"Meaning that by Thursday she'll be out of sorts for..." He trailed off and Helen filled in the blank.
"Half an hour," she said and JD shook his head.
"For cryin' out loud. All the more reason to get a wiggle on to Ashmunayn quick as we can," Button added.
"What about the letter you have to deliver, Professor?" Ellie asked from the doorway of the next room. She was pressing a damp cloth to her face and neck with one hand while fanning herself with the other.
"Oh, piffle!" JD scoffed, quickly waving off the issue and resuming his carefree attitude. "I can send a return message to Dr. Galloway explaining a very serious health issue with a travelling companion and ask him to wait for us to return to meet him." Ellie gave a battered smile.
"I appreciate it, JD," she said. "But are you sure that you should do that for me?"
"I really only took the letter in an effort to avoid listening to anyone complain about me leaving the University," Professor Button admitted. "On the list of things to do while in Egypt delivering that letter falls well below getting you copacetic, I assure you."