Eternal Journey by Alex Archer

Author:Alex Archer [Archer, Alex]
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction - Adventure, Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Australia, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Action & Adventure, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Antiquities, Adventure fiction, General, Romance, Fantasy, Suspense, Adventure, Science fiction, Fiction, Women archaeologists, Pirates
ISBN: 9780373621354
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2009-03-08T18:00:00+00:00

15

The doors were locked after 8:00 p.m., so Hamam used his key card to enter the building. The hall before him was shadowy, as only every fourth bank of overhead lights was on at this late hour to conserve electricity. “The tomb,” the other professors who frequented the offices at night referred to it. Hamam was amused by the reference.

There were only two other instructors here this evening, both from the arts department; he’d spotted their cars in the parking lot. Their offices were on the floor above his, at the opposite end of the hall. They were no doubt working late grading term essays that students had started turning in over the past few days. Hamam had essays on his desk, too, but he had no plans to peruse them. He would be gone from the university before he was supposed to hand grades over to the department head.

Hamam enjoyed the gloominess of this building at night; he thought the dimness made it seem properly eerie and gave the place a little character. Modern structures were usually so sterile and uninteresting, nothing like the ruins he relished, or his home north of Cairo. He listened to his own footfalls as he went, the leather soles of his expensive Italian shoes gliding across the recently polished floor, the heels clicking slowly and rhythmically. The night janitor had already passed by; Hamam could smell the residue of the cleaning supplies. He would not have to put up with the man’s overly loud classical selections. It wasn’t that Hamam didn’t appreciate a good orchestra. He truly did. But the janitor’s taste tended toward popular baroque, and the orchestras hailed from cities such as Boston and Cincinnati, lacking the musical refinement of the European symphonies with their most excellent conductors.

He fumbled in his pocket for his office keys. While the building’s outer doors had been fitted with mechanisms to read key cards, Hamam doubted the university would ever spend the money to replace the simple locks on the individual offices and storage rooms. He smiled—in a week or so the university’s funds and locks would be irrelevant.

Hamam’s movements were ritualistic. He opened the door with his left hand, reached in and flicked on the light with his right. Two steps in and he hung his hat on the hook on the wall. A quick turn and he shut the door behind him and flipped the latch to lock it. Unlike many of the other professors in this building and in the others throughout the campus, Hamam never left his door open.

“I expected you some time ago.”

Hamam’s normally stoic mask was gone in an instant, replaced by wide-eyed astonishment. He gasped, and then his surprise turned to anger, his fists clenching so tight his knuckles whitened.

The high-backed chair at his desk had been turned to face the window, so Hamam could not have noticed that someone was sitting in it.

“I’ve been here for more than an hour, Gahiji.” The voice was sonorous. The speaker waited a moment and then slowly swiveled the chair so he could stare across the desk at Hamam.

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