his forehead in his hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Christmas Day of all days . . . I’ve got a better idea – you call Rachel.”
“Um, I don’t think so.” Rothschild looked uncomfortable. “Anyway, more to the point, did you get any rest? During the transit I mean. We have almost an hour if you want some down time? Oh and by the way, what did you bring in the way of clothing?”
Richard looked up. “I’m fine; I had a few hours and used the facilities in the VIP terminal. They even gave us some breakfast. As for clean shirts, I brought a few, but I’ll need some toiletries if it’s going to be more than a week.” He paused. “Why don’t you establish a video-link with Mubarakar? Use a digital scrambler if it’s that sensitive.”
“He is old school – very. He does not trust the technology and he’s not well. In fact, he has not left Egypt for two years and apparently is now housebound in Alexandria. He’s gone back to his roots, Richard – always a bad sign. He has also resigned from the Supreme Council of Antiquities and as Executive Curator of both the Cairo and Luxor Museums and, of course, he is over eighty if he’s a day. I’ve a feeling that he wants to share some information with you specifically, while he can, you know, before . . . Anyway, we have arrangements in hand for you to visit his home.”
A brief look of surprise washed over Richard’s face. “Yes, well, it will be good to see him,” he replied.
“We may also need you to go to Mexico for a few days, the Yucatán Peninsula to be precise – also something for you to see. We need your expertise.”
Richard nodded. “Nice to be wanted,” he said. “Tell me! What’s the current travel situation? By air I mean. I’m a bit behind the drag curve. I know that there is very little scheduled airline traffic these days.”
Rothschild thought for a moment. “Actually, there are no longer any solvent airlines – at least not in the Northern Hemisphere. Most travel is now by sea or rail – and that’s becoming prohibitively expensive. Aeroplanes, cars, road haulage vehicles . . . they have no value any more. It’s the basics that are expensive these days, Richard.” Rothschild paused thoughtfully before continuing. “When an aircraft is required for official business the government normally charters – on a one-off basis you understand. Orbital Airlines are the preferred contractor. They have retained a small fleet for this purpose. Aviation fuel is a very scarce commodity – in fact, there is seldom any available on the open or spot markets. The Energy Department has occasionally had opportunity to bid for small quantities that are auctioned on the black market – mainly from Uganda – but that is rare now. However, I’m pleased to say that central government holds a utility reserve that is stored at a refining terminal near Southampton and piped to London using the old London Heathrow connection. There is, thankfully, the essential spur to London Main Airport – best thing Cameron did during his second term – against those violent planning demonstrations too . . . remember?”
Richard slumped in his seat. “I was eight and had other things on my mind.”
“And now you are what, forty-four?”
“You know exactly how old I am, Peter, you have my record in front of you!”
“Yes . . . quite so. I was sixteen you know, and I remember.”
Richard raised his eyebrows to forestall any coming lecture.
“Anyway,” Rothschild continued, “I may be able to secure sixty or seventy tons of aviation grade kerosene, but that’s all.”
“Yeah, well, the Stratocord is a bit of an overkill, wouldn’t you say? And it certainly isn’t the best on fuel economy, particularly in the lower atmosphere and that’s the only aircraft type Orbital operated. I’m guessing but I’d say seventy tons is enough to get me to Egypt and back and perhaps across the pond to eastern Mexico.”
“I am aware
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