The Eye of the Serpent Read Free Page A

it. A mosquito bite! How could such a silly, innocuous thing be the death of the person he had thought would live for ever?
    â€˜It’s all right if you want to cry,’ Father had told him, but Alec couldn’t. He felt like screaming; he felt like smashing the headmaster’s office to bits, but try as he might, he could not shed a tear for the mother he had loved all his life.
    He had travelled back to the house on Kasr al-Dubara with his father and had gone through the ritual of the burial – the prayers, the hymns, the readings – and he had just felt numb, as though this was happening to somebody else and he was watching it from a distance.
    Back at school, he threw himself into hislessons, thinking that at least he had the summer holidays to look forward to, a chance to immerse himself in the subject he enjoyed so much.
    But then a letter had arrived from his father, telling him that something bad had happened over at the dig. Nobody was sure exactly what had transpired, but it appeared that Uncle Will had suffered a complete nervous breakdown and had been taken to a sanatorium. It looked as though archaeology was off the agenda.
    And then Alec
did
find some tears. This was the last straw. It seemed to him that everything was lost and he resigned himself to waiting until his schooling was finished before he could devote his life to the subject that so fascinated him.
    But then, only a few weeks before the end of term, a revelation! Another letter from his father had arrived, telling him that the dig seemed to be back on the cards. Uncle Will’s most trusted American friend, a man called Ethan Wade, had stepped in to take over directorship of the site; and he had extended a personal invitation to Alec to come out and resume his former duties.
    So now here he stood at the rail of the
Sudan
,gazing out at a small herd of camels on the far bank, dipping their heads to drink from the blue waters of the Nile. Alec was asking himself how much longer it would be before he could step off this great floating tub and get his hands into some good Egyptian sand. Coates, a plain-speaking Yorkshireman, who had always seemed able to read Alec’s mind, gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
    â€˜Fear not, Master Alec. We’ll be at Luxor tomorrow afternoon and, all being well, Mr Wade should be at the quayside to meet us.’
    Alec glanced at his valet. It always seemed odd to see the big man clad in the unfamiliar garb of a khaki safari suit and pith helmet, rather than his usual black tailcoat.
    â€˜I’ve asked you before, please don’t call me that,’ he murmured. ‘A simple Alec will be fine.’
    â€˜Yes, Master Alec,’ said Coates, without a trace of irony. ‘I shall try to remember that.’
    A short distance from the steamer, a large crocodile surfaced briefly, snorted a little water from its nostrils and then sank again, leaving barely a ripple in its wake.
    â€˜What do we know about this Ethan Wade?’ asked Alec.
    â€˜Only that he is a friend of Sir William’s and that your father met him some years ago and was, by all accounts, rather impressed with him. I believe Mr Wade was working on an earlier dig alongside your uncle at the time. But he’d moved on by the time you started helping your uncle out.’
    â€˜He’s an archaeologist, then?’
    â€˜No. I understand he is what the Americans like to call “a soldier of fortune”.’
    Alec frowned. ‘What’s that exactly?’
    â€˜I believe it describes a man who is willing to go anywhere in the world where there is action and adventure. I’ve heard some reports of exploits in Mexico and Africa . . .’ Coates sniffed. ‘But of course, if your father thinks he’s made of the right stuff, who am I to quibble?’
    Alec was impressed. ‘Sounds like an interesting fellow,’ he said.
    Coates allowed himself the faintest look of