All characters belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal.  I make no money from this story.  The characters of Ross Campbell and Emir Hammond are my own invention.  And yes, the title of this chapter comes directly from the song by AC/DC.  It just seemed to fit.

CAPTAIN OF HIS SOUL

by Marcher

PG13

Chapter 10  ~  Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap

The sun was hotter than Evelyn had anticipated and her pace was more of a stroll than a walk.  It seemed so long ago since she had last taken the time to venture into the streets and it appeared her mind had either forgotten the heat, or perhaps she was losing it. Alex still clutched her hand, his tiny legs waning in her wake and was simply unable to keep up.  As she looked down at him, yet more guilt washed over her and she bent down to his level, scolding herself for causing him such distress.  She tilted back the brim of his hat to see his flushed cheeks and tried to lift him.  Just the effort of raising his feet from the ground made her bite her bottom lip at the dull ache in her stomach.  Dr. Campbell may have given her permission to walk around, but perhaps a self-pitying jaunt around the Cairo market places was still beyong her capabilities.

Setting Alex down in a shaded doorway, she squeezed next to him and wrapped her arm about his shoulders.  Her little boy immediately dropped his head into her lap and Evelyn found herself forcing back tears for having dragged him along on her self-indulgent, soul searching walk.

"I'm sorry little one.  I don't seem to be doing anything right of late."  It was a hushed lament, as much to herself as to her son, and she decided to return to the Fort, carrying Alex if she must.  Then her eyes turned towards the entrance of a narrow street which led away from the bustling crowd to a solemn serenity.  She gazed thoughtfully at the sun bleached entrance and absently stroked the back of her son's head.  Perhaps it would help, perhaps not, but there was only one way to find out.  So, with Rick's words ringing in her ears, she gently guided Alex away from the step and walked along the shaded side of the street towards the paved cemetary and her infant's grave.

~~~

"You know, Rick.  My little sister has a stubborn streak that runs the entire length of her back.  She'll dig her heels in until you can't stand it any longer."  Jonathan's observation of Evelyn was more verbal musing than advice.  The effect of the alcohol was at it's pleasing stage and Jonathan was simply thinking aloud.

O'Connell slanted his head towards his brother-in-law and groaned wearily, "You mean until I eventually give in for the sake of peace."

Jonathan responded as though divine light had showered down upon the American's head!  Pivoting in his seat, he pushed his glass aside and faced O'Connell with look of sheer delight.  "Yes!  That's it!  Now you're getting it!"

"You're not telling me anything I don't know, Jonathan."  The troubled husband fiddled the shot glass between his thumb and forefinger, then shoved it against the bottle in a request to have it refilled.  "It's not as easy as that this time.  It's just..."  Then it occured to him that he owed absolutely no explaination to Jonathan, "...just stay out of it!"

Jonathan's heart sank with his shoulders, "Fine by me.  The icy devide between you two is no place for a sane man, anyway."

"You consider yourself sane?"  Rick couldn't help laughing aloud and was even more amused by Jonathan's indignant expression.

O'Connell watched with amused interest as Evelyn's brother self-righteously pulled his shoulders straight and looked him straight in the eye.   "Yes, sane!"  He offered without a hint of intoxication.  "Let's just look at the picture here, shall we?"  Still smiling, the American's eyes widened at Jonathan's enlightened tone,  "Which one of us is sitting here brooding, completely at a loss as to how to eliminate the misery from his life?"  Jonathan swigged from his glass then absently waved his hand in the general direction of the door "And, which one of us can walk in and out that door as many times as he likes and only has to fall down to get Evelyn off his back?  Hmmmm?"

Speechless upon hearing what he knew to be the truth, O'Connell frowned before turning away and snarling, "Just shut up, Jonthan."

"Oh...witty retort!"

"So help me..."

"You'll what?  Punch me?  Empty threats, old boy.  You've never done it before.  And I can't see that helping the situation you're in with my sister."  Jonathan swallowed another shot for courage before adding, "But you obviously need to hit someone, seeing as you can't talk your way out of this mess!"

With his eyes seething, Rick reached for Jonathan, if nothing more than to shut him up, but the arguement was broken with a stern  interuption from the barman and both men fell uneasily silent.  It was Jonathan who relented by lightly slapping Rick on the back, adopting a more brotherly tone.  "Look, no hard feelings and whatnot.  All I'm saying is, that it's bad business all 'round.  It won't do any good just letting it fester."

Before he could respond,  Rick felt a tap to his left shoulder and twisted around to see no-one standing there, then spun to the right on hearing the stool next to him being dragged across the tiled floor.  He was greeted by the tooth rotting smile of Emir Hammond. "Sorry I'm late, Captain. But some things take time."

Emir was the product of his mother's brief marriage to a soldier of the King's Royal Rifle Corps on station here when the English mounted their Egyptian Campaign.  Quite a whirlwind of a romance according to Emir, but it seemed to O'Connell he was embellishing on the already colourful tale he was treated to by his mother.   Harmless enough in the light that his father was struck down by the typhus fever and died before his son reached his first birthday.  It couldn't have been easy for him growing up.  Being of mixed heritage, fatherless and having a ridiculous name would just naturally lead to a life of ostracism amongst his peers.  It's no wonder Emir found a haven in the shady dealings of life.  The very reason  he had seated himself next to O'Connell.

Rick narrowed his eyes at tall, lean man and spoke with quiet irritation.  "You're over a week late, Emir!   And what the hell are you doing meeting me in here?"

The local smuggler glanced confidently around the room and leaned into the American, "I bring news for all concerned."

"Not here!"  Rick finished his whisky in a single gulp and stood, indicating the door to Emir.  "Outside!"  He slapped a curious Jonathan on the shoulder and caught his eye.  He nodded in understanding and squeezed the Englishman's shoulder.  Jonathan accepted the mute offering then glanced once again at the skinny Egyptian.  O'Connell offered no more of an explanation than "Old business.  Won't take long."

"Aah." Unconvinced,  Carnahan turned back to the bar.  As he listened to the retreating footsteps of his brother-in-law and his mysterious friend, Jonathan frowned.  The only difference between his and O'Connell's history was that the American was more inclined to start a fight, whereas Jonathan was quite comfortable lurking in the shadows.  Whatever business O'Connell was up to, Jonathan well believed it to be fishy business.   Now, he found himself presented with the dilema of whether or not to spill the beans to his sister, or heed Rick's earlier advice and stay completely out of it.

~~~

Outside, beneath the glaring sunlight, Rick directed Emir into a secluded corner of the Fort grounds, concurrently pushing him back against a wall while glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being watched.  With a voice low and angry, he pressed his face an inch from the Egyptian's and muttered,  "We were supposed to meet a week ago in front of Nasser's stall.  What happened to you?"

Emir glared down at the large hands which clutched his shirtfront, then stared peevishly into the eyes before him.  "Don't try and intimidate me, O'Connell, or I just may forget whatever it was I came to tell you."

Rick stared thoughtfully at the man before begrudgingly releasing his hold and stepped back without breaking eye contact  nor offering any apology.  "Just tell me what happened."

"Well it seems our little operation has caught the eye of the local authorities."  Emir ran the back of his hand across his brow and continued.  "That dig site has doubled it's guard in the last fortnight.  It's too risky to chance getting through now, we've already had a few close calls."

Once again, Rick looked about to make sure there was no-one to either see or hear them.  It appeared they were safely secluded from  the crowd, but he motioned for Emir to walk with him just in case.  "So what have we got?"

"Just the few items we managed to secure before they doubled the guards.  It's not much, but that Burial Ground is a huge discovery for those so-called anthropologists."  Emir's disgust at the foreign scientists was blatant,   "It seems because they have the title, they get to keep my country's treasure."

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Emir.  You were gonna sell it anyway.  And they're Egyptologists."

"Call them what you will, they are thieves like us, but the money would have lined MY pockets!"  Emir hocked and spat onto the ground, "So, you think your buyers will still be interested?"

Rick continued to walk slowly, scanning the street as he did.  "Well, if we haven't got what they're looking for I can always just drop the stuff off in a sack outside the museum doors.  That's where all the rest of that Cemetary loot is heading for anyway."

Emir turned to O'Connell in utter astonishment, "They will not pay if you just drop it at their door!"

"I'm not in this for the money."

The tall, thin Egyptian almost choked, "I AM!  You have your thrills, I still expect my share of the treasure!"

"Relax! You'll see the money."

"I'd better!"  He poked a grubby finger into the American's chest and pulled it away.   "Anyway, I don't see why I can't find a buyer myself if yours falls through?  At least that way I won't be begging from you like a stray dog."

The American glared across at his criminal companion and sneered.  "Sure!  Do what you want with it.  Makes no difference to me what happens to it."

"Hey!"  A voice shouted from behind them and both Rick and Emir looked questionably to each other as Jonathan approached, leaning heavily on his cane and waving his hand to signal his arrival.

Recognizing him as O'Connell's drinking companion, Emir whispered sarcastically at his partner in crime, "And you berate me for being careless!"

A groan grew from deep in his throat and escaped Rick's mouth in a low and grumbling growl, "He's my brother-in-law"

"You are married now?!"

Ignoring what he considered Emir's humourless wit, O'Connell remained staring at the approaching, chattering  Englishman.

"I thought the company here would be better than those drunkards I left behind."  Jonathan was out of breath by the time he reached the two men and he puffed his cheerful greeting to Rick, "So, who's your friend?"

"Hammond, the Egyptian."  Rick offered dryly.  "What are you doing here, Jonathan?"

Nodding, a little puzzled by the name, Jonathan shook the hand of his brother-in-law's companion.  "So what is it then?  Gold?  Guns? Liquor?"

"What?"  Rick's patience was paper thin as it was, without Jonathan setting fire to it.

"Oh, come on!  I didn't come down in the last shower.  What is it you're looking for, or trying to sell? 

"Just go back to the Fort, Jonathan."  Rick started to turn his back on Jonathan, but was persuaded otherwise by his brother-in-law's distinctly pleasant, yet conniving statement.

"Aaah, well you see.  I can't do that without getting incredibly drunk and accidentally letting my sister in on your little secret.  But I'm a crack shot and an excellent thief, even if I do say so myself.  I'd be one hell of an asset.  I've got some pretty good connections myself, you know."

Emir interupted, his words to O'Connell a mix of disbelief and irritation.  "Is he here for the thrill as well, or does he expect to be paid?"

Before he was able to swear at the Englishman for pushing his face in uninvited, Rick was distracted by Jonathan straining his vision  he peered around him to see down the street.   Jonathan raised his hand to shield the sunlight then pointed into the distance   "I say, isn't that Alex?"

"What?"  Rick turned on his heels to see his young son wandering aimlessly about the street and crying.