The Amun Chamber @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } THE AMUN CHAMBER a novel by Daniel Leston Copyright © 2010 *(2nd Kindle Edition) This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any part or in whole without written permission from the author. PROLOGUE There are those in this world who share a remarkable dream . . . one born of unbridled imagination and woven from the chimerical threads of purest fantasy. Incredible as it may seem, they actually believe it possible that hidden somewhere in the ageless expanse of modern Egypt, sheltered from the ravages of both time and man, the body of Alexander the Great still lies serene and uncorrupted in his fabulous sarcophagus of glass and gold. Robed in royal splendor and crowned with the jeweled diadem of the dazzling empire that he forged, he confronts all eternity with his glory, his honor�"his mystery�"still intact. For these few souls whose soaring imaginations cannot resist the temptation to believe Alexander’s mortal remains still exist, only awaiting discovery, there is little�"nay nothing�"to support this ultimate flight of fancy. It is a cruel and perfidious notion, one wholly unfaithful to the precepts of history, which dictates that such a stunning treasure from our distant past could never have survived to the present day. Save for the grist of dreamers, it is an impossibility. And yet . . . Alexandria, Egypt, 63 C.E. Even beneath the hot brilliance of the late summer sun the stone balustrade felt cold under the frail hands of Satepihu, aged High Priest of Amun-Ra; and as he stood alone atop the great temple that was home to him for nigh all of his sixty years, his dark and restless eyes shifted across the bustling city spread out below him. As always, the panoramic view was nothing less than spectacular. And though the long familiarity of it normally provided some comfort to his troubled mind, he feared he would glean no solace on this day. Nor anytime soon, he suspected. Not if his premonitions were correct. To the north, sprawling seaward on Cape Lochias, stood the vast palace-complex of the late Ptolemies, the Greek dynasty that had made Alexandria the glory of Egypt and the envy of the world. Majestic in both concept and proportions, the once-royal enclosure remained a marvel of alabaster and polychrome marble, rising dream-like against the backdrop of the blue Mediterranean. But this too was a false glimpse of his country’s past, for since the death of Queen Cleopatra a century before, it was now the iron fist of Imperial Rome that ruled Egypt from this grand edifice. Weary from lack of sleep, the old man’s eyes drifted across the busy waters of the Great Port, the larger of two artificial harbors created by a man-made mole extending from the heart of the city to the middle of Pharos Island. Here hundreds of merchant vessels of every size and description crowded the long wharves and loading piers, ships from every port of the Mediterranean, all being loaded or unloaded by uncounted thousands of half-naked laborers. And lying at anchor close by were many more, all awaiting their turn at the bustling docks that were Egypt’s commercial lifeline to the world. Further out from the city loomed the signature symbol of Alexandria’s past glory under the Ptolemies�"the Great Lighthouse, itself. Leaping skyward from the terraced cliffs of Pharos Island, it remained as imposing as when first conceived almost half a millennium before. Built to stand forever, it was constructed in three magnificent architectural levels, the highest crowned with a heroic bronze statue flashing red and gold in the midday sun. Not unlike the reflection of fire, he mused�"but with this observation Satepihu now felt an overwhelming sense of impending disaster, a premonition so powerful as to jolt his thin frame. Though all of his previous experiences were profoundly disturbing, they were also somewhat vague in meaning, the god’s communication unclear. But not so this time! It was as if Amun, himself, spoke straight to his soul, searing a command deep into his conscious mind! No longer was the God’s message in any doubt. All you see will be destroyed! All these glories scattered and lost! This revelation could mean but one thing! Amun’s true son must somehow survive the coming conflagration. Satepihu now fully understood the grave imperative being placed upon him�"and too, his own awesome responsibility to see it fulfilled. Accepting his burden, the loyal High Priest turned and made his way back down the steep steps leading to the granite vault around which the temple was built. In truth, the lower chamber was the sole reason for its very existence. For close to four centuries the temple had served just one divine purpose. Once there, Satepihu stood alone before a huge marble platform, lifting his eyes with reverence to what it supported. It was an object of unsurpassed beauty, one that never failed to stir his heart. Again the voice spoke to him. Allow no harm to befall my son. His honor is that of his father�"and must be preserved for all time. Overcome with emotion, Satepihu fell to his knees, his trembling hands clasped in homage as he prayed for the necessary guidance needed to accomplish this sacred mission. Amun would surely reveal the difficult path he must follow. Alexandria, Egypt, 11 August 1956 Lionel DeCaylus stood rigid in the night darkness, his adrenaline pumping as he pressed the back of his sweat-drenched shirt against the alley wall. His breathing was rapid, his heart racing. After six terrible days under the desert sun he was one raw, aching sore; and now the rough-edged bricks felt like jagged shards of glass cutting into his shoulders. Yet he refused to acknowledge the pain. This discomfort was nothing in comparison to his fear of being seen, for the grim threat of still being followed terrified him. The alley entrance was buried in deep shadow, a momentary sanctuary. This was the single spot where he could remain hidden, yet still observe the stone bridge spanning the El Mahmudiya Canal. Anyone attempting to follow him must cross under the light of its central lamppost as he’d done only minutes before. But he saw nothing; no movement of any kind. He waited, allowing more time to slip by. Still nothing! He swallowed hard, unsure what to make of this. Was it possible he outwitted his stalker? The immediacy of Lionel’s fear began to recede . Oh, God, how his body ached! The running had drained him. Too, the dry burning in his eyes was fast becoming unbearable, and he risked the luxury of closing them. He never thought of himself as heroic. Cautious, yes; but hardly brave! Taking another deep breath, he edged further back into the alley�"and only when the spill of light from atop the bridge was no longer visible did he turn and run with renewed confidence, the night enveloping him like a secure blanket. Though the alley was foul with the scent of rotting sewage, he knew this narrow passage well. He was back on familiar ground. And even more important, his recent streak of incredible luck appeared to be holding. Lionel was reed-slender and in questionable health. Nine years of digging and scratching in the Egyptian desert had taken its toll, burning his once delicate features into hard, flat planes, and melting away any trace of excess flesh from his diminutive frame. If the experience strengthened him in any way, his physical appearance gave no evidence. On the contrary, he looked at least a full decade past his real age of forty-three. But his present wasted condition meant little to him. During the last seven days all of his previous hardships and frustrations were suddenly irrelevant. Tonight�"beneath all his surface fear and agitation�"he felt exultation far greater than anything he’d ever before known. His lifelong dream was accomplished! And best of all, the ultimate proof of his fantastic achievement was now safe, for tonight he’d placed beyond the reach of anyone who might try and take it away! The alley ended at the street called El Rahma, and he slid to a stop, still afraid to expose himself without reason. He surveyed the open area, seeking any possible cause for alarm. But there was nothing unusual. Dawn was five hours away, the cobbled streets empty. Now he felt certain his clandestine visit to the West Port had gone undetected! The release of tension shook him, the sudden urge to laugh out loud almost overpowering. He’d actually eluded them! Since his frantic return to Alexandria only fifteen hours before, his every instinct told him he was being watched. He felt it deep in his gut like an alien presence. Nothing could ever convince him it was mere coincidence his spotting the same bearded giant in the soiled galabia twice on the same day�"and certainly not two miles apart in a city of millions! Yet now it appeared this danger was past. Tomorrow he would be safely aboard the train back to Cairo. And tonight? He smiled, thinking tonight he would celebrate. A stiff drink, for sure, plus a cleansing bath�"and several hours of blessed sleep! God knew, it was all earned! The faded sign above the old King Edward was visible a block north, and he hurried towards it. The hotel’s dingy fa�żade reflected its long neglect, for it was a type of Victorian structure fast disappearing from western Alexandria where foreign tourists were reluctant to seek accommodations. The district had acquired the earned reputation of being more exotic than safe. But to Lionel it represented safety, his stride lengthening with his elevated euphoria. Again smiling, he took the entrance steps two at a time. The lobby was empty, its sole occupant a young boy sleeping hunched over the night desk, head pillowed on folded arms. Careful not to disturb the lad’s slumber�"for the fewer who knew of his movements the better�"he climbed the open-sided stairs to the third floor. Upon reaching his room, he dug deep into his hip pocket to retrieve the key. The opportunity to use it never came. The door was jerked open from the inside at the same instant powerful hands seized him from behind. One strong arm encircled his neck and shoulders while the other clasped his wrist, jerking it high into his upper back. So great was his captor’s strength that his feet hardly touched the floor as he was hustled inside. Only then did the man waiting within snap on the single overhead light. It stunned Lionel to realize how effortlessly he was taken. The one holding him must’ve been positioned in the room opposite his own�"and though he never saw a face, there was no doubt the thick arm around his throat belonged to the bearded giant in the grubby galabia . Nor did he need to be told any outcry would be his last. Shaken by what just transpired, he could only stare at the young Egyptian standing before him. �ś Please, do calm yourself, Mr. Parker,” this one said in flawless English. �śOr should I say Mr. DeCaylus? I believe that is your real name, is it not?” His eyes were large and black; intense, but not without a certain curiosity. Waiting for a response, he cocked his head. �śYou may answer my question, sir. In fact, I really must insist.” He raised a hand in warning. �śBut softly, you understand . . .” Lionel felt the large arm ease on his windpipe. Using the opportunity to swallow, he could only stare, unsure what to say. �śIf�"if you intend to rob me,” he finally managed, �śyou’ll find I�"” �ś Come now, we are hardly thieves, sir.” The younger man paused, then added, �śThough I must admit I did take the liberty of searching your somewhat meager belongings while you were out.” From the pocket of his suit he partly extracted the train ticket Lionel had purchased the day before and left on the table. �śWere you planning on leaving Alexandria so soon?” Lionel opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the man tapped the ticket back out of sight. A simple gesture�"yet it sent an icy ripple down his spine. Its ominous message was clear. He was going nowhere! �ś My question to you, Mr. DeCaylus, is relatively straightforward. Do you have any other possessions we should be made aware of? Some small souvenir, perhaps, not rightfully yours?” �ś I�"I don’t understand what you�"” �ś Really, must we play these foolish games? Your recent activities are all known to me. Unfortunately, sir, you have . . . Now what is that quaint expression you Americans are so fond of using? Ah, yes! I fear you have poked your nose into matters that do not concern you.” He tilted his head. �śA very grave mistake on your part, I’m afraid.” Lionel’s panic elevated yet another notch. �śI have nothing!” he blurted. �śI�"I swear I don’t! You’ve searched my room�"you know I have nothing!” The man studied Lionel’s pale face, appearing to consider the validity of these words. After several long moments, he pursed his lips, apparently willing to be convinced. On the table was a dirty glass, beside it the cheap bottle of whiskey Lionel had cracked ten hours before. With a resigned sigh the man poured a generous shot, pressing it into his captive’s trembling hand. Once it was gulped down, he said, �śPerhaps you truly are telling me the truth. But I fear this still leaves me with a serious problem. Surely you can see this. I’m genuinely sorry, Mr. DeCaylus, but no other solution is possible.” Lionel’s horror was complete. He felt the arm begin to tighten like coiled steel around his neck, the thick fingers gripping the side of his head in deadly preparation. �śOh, Jesus, no!” he cried. �śPlease�"!” The man glanced over Lionel’s shoulder and gave a slight nod; then turned to the room’s single window and gazed down through the thin, frayed curtains at the empty street below. That he must hear the wrenching snap of the little man’s neck was unavoidable�"but watching the poor fellow’s tortured face as it happened was another matter entirely. CHAPTER ONE Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y.�"The present The lapse into semi-darkness within Franklin Hall’s second-floor lecture room was only momentary. Following the metallic click of the slide projector, the large rectangular screen immediately filled with a brilliant image of polished gold. An audible intake of breath was instantaneous from the mixed audience of students and faculty�"and Professor David Manning smiled, for the appreciative reaction to this final slide hadn’t varied once over the entire seven weeks of his American tour. �ś Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, stepping out from behind the paneled lectern, �śI must confess I purposely saved this particular slide for the conclusion of today’s presentation. Lovely, isn’t it?” The golden image consisted of eight elongated teardrop shapes, four large ones separated by an equal number of smaller, and all radiating outward in a uniform pattern from a central circle. The artistic achievement reached by its unknown creator was beautiful to behold. �ś Now I’m sure you all recognize this close-up view of the royal Macedonian sunburst symbol taken from the largest of the two gold caskets found inside the chamber. Since this rather unique design was accepted throughout most, if not all, of the ancient Mediterranean world, it’s just additional evidence that this tomb belonged to no less than Phillip the Second, father of Alexander the Great. For myself, it’s quite inconceivable it would be present were the remains within not of a Macedonian king�"and as I made note earlier, what few bone fragments that survive the cremation process were identified as those belonging to a man matching Phillip’s known age at the time of his assassination.” He paused, his eyes sweeping the audience. �ś Other evidence,” he continued, �śonly lends further support for this conclusion. Virtually all of the tomb’s artifacts can now be dated to between 345 and 330 C.E., and as you’re all aware, Phillip was the only Macedonian king to have died within this rather narrow period of time.” A tentative hand now rose from the second row of seats. Pleasantly enough, it belonged to the striking young woman who had been such an agreeable distraction to him over the past two hours of his presentation. Long auburn hair framed a face of perfect proportions; classic�"almost aloof�"yet vulnerable, as well. He put her somewhere in her late twenties, and almost certainly a guest or member of the alumni. A day earlier a rather tedious faculty luncheon was held in his honor�"and no way had she been introduced to him. One didn’t forget a woman with her looks. �ś Do you have a question, Miss�"?” �ś DeCaylus,” she said, not standing. �śElizabeth DeCaylus.” Though the name startled him, the only outward sign of his genuine surprise was a quick narrowing of his eyes. DeCaylus? As in Jacob DeCaylus? It seemed unlikely she could be related. But then again, the name was far from common. �ś And your question?” �ś I’m interested in your opinion concerning the female remains inside the second casket,” she said. �śIt’s been over twenty-five years since the Vergina tomb was opened, yet no definitive identification has ever been offered. At least as far as I know. If, as you say, we accept through scientific examination that this is truly Phillip’s tomb, why isn’t it equally believable the other remains belong to Queen Olympia, Alexander’s mother?” On face, it was a logical question. �ś Well, it would be quite remarkable if they were,” he answered, �śbut I’m afraid that’s highly unlikely. No one I’m aware of at Thessalonika University seriously considers her a candidate. And with good cause. By long tradition, Macedonian kings were polygamous�"and our best conjecture at his point is what we have are the remains of the unfortunate young girl Phillip married mere days before his assassination. Historically, Olympia’s jealousy was such that she had the girl murdered within hours of her husband’s death.” He smiled. �śIn my opinion, there’s just no reason to�"” �ś But isn’t it true,” she interrupted, �śthat the condition of the bone fragments don’t allow for a reliable estimation of the woman’s age at time of death?” She was persistent. He gave her that. �ś Yes, that’s correct. But you have to remember that�"” �ś Then I just don’t understand how you can so readily dismiss Queen Olympia as a viable possibility.” Her tone was becoming confrontational. �śIn point of fact, Professor, you really have no concrete evidence that excludes her, do you?” This was becoming borderline insulting. He hesitated before answering, the impatience in his voice stemming more from the weariness of a long day than outright annoyance. �śNo, not solid evidence, Miss DeCaylus,” he said, no longer smiling, �śjust good common sense.” A nervous ripple of laughter swept the room. His cutting response was more instinctual than intentional�"and seeing her sudden flush of embarrassment, he regretted it. She shrank into her seat, her eyes somewhat confused. To spare her further discomfort, he addressed his explanation to the audience as a whole. �śAs Queen Olympia outlived her illustrious son by a fair number of years,” he said, �śit seems quite unlikely she came to share Phillip’s final resting place. Nor would it have been her wish to do so, for her hatred for Phillip is well documented. In truth, it’s even more that just probable that she was an instigating factor in his assassination. Within the context of this background, I can’t imagine her having any desire to spend eternity at his side.” A quick glance at his wrist told him it was already five o’clock, well past his scheduled wrap-up. �śNow if there are no further questions, I think we should call it a day. You’ve been a very attentive audience, and I thank you for your patience.” Acknowledging the applause, David gathered his notes off the lectern. It had been long day, albeit one made interesting by an unexpected encounter with a name he’d almost given up on. Reminded of this, he spun and scanned the now dwindling crowd. Many had already left. Not surprising, the young woman was one of them. Well, so much for first impressions . He snapped his briefcase shut, thinking perhaps it was for the best. After all, he reasoned, what were the actual chances of her being kin to that uncooperative, old bastard in Boston, anyway? * * * It was approaching six-thirty that evening when David pulled the cassette from the dictation machine and locked the office door. With the completion of today’s presentation, his brief stay at Cornell was now over. Though all the paperwork took longer than anticipated, he considered it a necessary courtesy; Cornell’s hospitality had been nothing short of first-rate. He took a last look around, then placed the cassette and tagged key on the outer desk. The woman assigned to him from the secretarial pool had promised to type up everything in the morning and see to its proper distribution. Outside, the late afternoon sun dipped towards the horizon, long shadows spreading across the quadrangle. Due to enforced water conservation, the tailored lawns were fast becoming brown and parched. Since no appreciable rain had fallen since late May, this was now the longest drought in living memory. He lit a cigarette as he walked, savoring the feel of the sun’s rays on his face. The absence of all lecturing responsibilities was something of a rush, one he fully intended to enjoy. Four whole days remained before his return flight to Greece. Yet how to enjoy them? He really must devote some thought to this! David believed himself in reasonable shape for a man just two months shy of his thirty-third birthday. At just over six feet, he still retained a lean, athletic physique�"and near as he could tell, the same full head of dark hair he enjoyed as a teenager. Unappreciated by him, for he never really considered such things, his tanned features were strong and angular, almost verging on handsome. At least, most of his women friends seemed to think so. His temporary on-campus residence was one of several apartments reserved for prominent, visiting alumni and university guests. As a guest-lecturer, he fell into the latter category. Dr. Richard Andrews, the current Dean of Cornell, had personally arranged for the accommodation. Being an old, family friend, he’d gone out of his way to make David’s brief stay as enjoyable as possible. Thinking on this, David smiled as he walked. His close relationship with Richard spanned better than twenty years, beginning when he was just a youngster growing up outside Dayton, Ohio. In a curious sort of way, it was a friendship he’d inherited through his late father. Both men had soldiered together in Nam�"and when David, at fourteen, lost both his parents and younger brother in a tragic car accident, it was Richard who stepped up to the plate, basically becoming a surrogate father. He owed Richard big time. More than he could ever repay. The apartment building loomed ahead, reminding him there were decisions yet to be made. He butted his cigarette on the steps; then went inside, punching the elevator for the fourth floor. First up was the nagging question of what in hell he intended doing for the next four days? So make up your mind already, he chided himself. How hard can it be? When no fresh ideas leaped to mind, he shifted to a more immediate problem. What�"if anything�"should he do about the attractive woman in the lecture hall? Once inside his apartment, he began the mental process of thrashing through all pros and cons of even attempting to track her down. Since the beginning of the tour, a major goal of his was to arrange a meeting of some sort with a man named Jacob DeCaylus. So far, it was proving impossible. After one initial phone conversation, the old gentleman refused all further contact with David. He’d tried three more times over the same number of weeks, but to no avail; Jacob’s private secretary was a proverbial brick firewall. Which left this Elizabeth woman�"someone he suspected wasn’t even related. And even if she was�"a very big �Śif’�"there was the clear problem of her age. Just how much could she be expected to know? Hell, the DeCaylus letters were written over sixty years ago! Yet it really was sort of weird, he admitted, her popping up like this out of the blue. And on the last day of his tour, no less! In a strange way, it was almost like�"like what? Fate? He shook his head in annoyance. He didn’t believe in fate. He peeled off his jacket and tie, believing he was perhaps too tired for rational thought. What he needed was an earned time-out. David showered for a full ten minutes, much longer than was his habit. The pulsating spray helped rejuvenate him, peeling away the day’s accumulated tensions. With his equilibrium restored, he toweled off and sat on the edge of the bed. On impulse, he then picked up the bedside phone and dialed Richard’s number. After all, what did he have to lose? The dean’s familiar voice answered on the fourth ring. In the background were subdued voices mingling with the faint strains of the classical music his old friend so dearly enjoyed. �śSounds like your dinner party is in full swing, Richard.” �ś Davey! Hoped it might be you! I tried to catch you at your office not two minutes ago. You back at the apartment?” �ś Just got in,” he replied, grinning as he stretched back on the bed. Richard only called him �ŚDavey’ after his second martini. �śSorry I couldn’t make it this afternoon. The lecture ran a bit long. Please give my apologizes to Elise.” �ś I’ll do that, of course, but we were still hoping you might find your way clear. Have you eaten yet? She says she’ll be more than happy to�"” �ś Thanks again, but no. I grabbed a bite earlier�"plus I still have all my packing to do.” It was only half a lie. The bulk of his packing was pretty much all done. �śTell you the reason I called, though . . . Wonder if maybe you could do me a small favor?” �ś Certainly. Just name it.” �ś There’s a woman on campus that I’m guessing is either a university guest or one of your alumni. She attended my last presentation this afternoon. Think you can help me track her down? I really would like to speak with her.” �ś I’ll do my best. Shouldn’t be too big a problem. Give me a name and I’ll have my secretary dig into it first thing tomorrow. You can pick up what I have in the morning. How’s that work for you? You haven’t changed your mind about joining me for coffee then, have you?” �ś Of course not. That name, by the way, is Elizabeth DeCaylus. I’ll give you the proper spelling. It’s a little bit�"�ś �ś Did you say Elizabeth was at your lecture?” �ś You know her?” Quite well, actually. I’m only surprised she was there today. Describe her to me. It’s most unlikely, but perhaps we’re talking about two different people.” He did as Richard asked. �ś No, that’s her, all right. Well, I’ll be damned!” David frowned into the phone. �śWhat’s the problem? Why does her attending my presentation surprise you?” �ś Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t. She’s been doing post-graduate work towards her PHD, but pulled out of all her classes about ten days ago. Her father passed away rather suddenly�"stroke of some sort, I think�"and I imagine she’s having a rather tough go. No other family to speak of. In fact, if memory serves, she lost her mother when she was just a baby.” �ś Siblings?” �ś No, I don’t believe so. None living, anyway.” David could relate to her situation. He reached for his cigarettes. �śI have to say, Richard, you never cease to amaze. Do you know this much about all of your students and alumni?” The older man laughed. �ś Not hardly,” he replied. �śIt’s just that�"” he paused, �śwell, Elizabeth’s father was a very influential figure here at Cornell. One of our most prominent alumnus�"and financially , one of our most generous, I might add.” It was David’s turn to chuckle. �śI think I get the picture.” �ś The hell you do, Davey. We both know I’m not the mercenary bugger you sometimes like to paint me. But seriously, both Elise and I are very fond of her�"which now reminds me that you really haven’t told me what your interest is in her. Or should I even have to ask? In anyone’s book, she’s a very beautiful woman.” �ś No argument there, but it goes a shade deeper. What I need to find out is whether or not she’s in any way related to an old Boston industrialist by the name of Jacob DeCaylus. You may have heard of him; apparently some kind of recluse, by all accounts. He originally started out in shipping, then branched into other fields�"banking, electronics�"you name it.” He hesitated, sensing something wrong at the other end. �śA problem?” The dean cleared his throat. �śWell, I guess it’s my fault, but I just assumed you knew who I was referring to. You see, Jacob DeCaylus is�"I mean was �"Elizabeth’s father.” �ś Her father? ” Disbelieving, David sat up on the bed. �śThe man I’m looking for must be in his mid-eighties, if he’s a day.” �ś Nevertheless, it’s true. I do hope his passing hasn’t created problems for you. I assume you had some business with�"” He stopped, clearly distracted by a woman’s voice. �śListen, can we finish this up in the morning? Elise tells me I’ve got some guests to see off. She’s already showing me her patented frown, if you know what I mean.” �ś That’s fine, Richard. I’ll see you in the morning.” David was slow replacing the phone. Was it really a problem�"or in some macabre sort of way, a fortuitous opportunity? It could go either way. With old Jacob out of the picture, the answer now rested entirely with his daughter. * * * The piercing ring of his bedside alarm jarred David awake just a half hour after sunrise. He gave it a blank stare for several seconds; then silenced the annoyance with a stab of his hand. With reluctance, he focused his eyes about the familiar room. He still felt tired, but knew the fault was his own. After his brief phone conversation with Richard, he’d remained up until well after midnight, reading through each of the DeCaylus letters one last time as the long-awaited rain pelted noisily on his window. Now he was paying the price, he thought with a weary yawn. He took his time shaving, using the opportunity to mull over his situation. When finished he knew what he was going to do. The big question, however, was whether or not it made good sense? He really had to wonder. As far as David was concerned, the active study and practice of pure archaeology was the prime focus in his life. He couldn’t conceive of any circumstance that might change this. Archaeology was his abiding passion�"source of his greatest joy�"and his single-minded goal since early childhood. To this day, in fact, he recalled with perfect clarity the very moment in time when this decision was reached. He was only ten when it happened. It was a warm, spring afternoon; and on a fortuitous whim he chose to take a short-cut home over a neighbor’s newly plowed field. And there, scarcely four furrows in from the fence, he discovered something wonderful. It was a flint arrowhead, perfect in every detail with edges as sharp and true as the day it was created. The pure excitement of just holding it in his hand was unforgettable; the knowledge that he was the first to touch it in many hundreds�"perhaps even thousands�"of years was a feeling he would always treasure. He was hooked from that moment forward, an addiction he never regretted. And his career in archaeology had proved satisfying beyond words to express. Looking back, he couldn’t have wished for more. Yet for all his success over the past years, the monetary rewards of his chosen profession weren’t really that substantial�"and it certainly never led to the privileged life-style he presently enjoyed. But that was where luck came into play. In truth, it was only the publication of his historical novel �ŚShadows Of The Son’ that gave him the resources and freedom to now do pretty much as he pleased. Though a first effort work of fiction�"drawn from his knowledge of the ancient world�"the book surprised everyone by quickly becoming an international bestseller. But this occurred over three years ago. Now his agent and publisher were both pressuring him hard for another manuscript. The problem was, he had nothing to offer. Nor was he sure he even wished to invest all the time and commitment it would entail. As much as he profited from his recent sojourn into the literary world, he was fast resigning himself to a simple truth: if he was ever to tackle another piece of fiction, then the historical inspiration would, of necessity, have to be very compelling. Like perhaps the DeCaylus letters? Dressed and ready, David placed the stack of yellowed papers from the bedside table back into his briefcase. Four whole months had passed since they came into his possession, yet his persistent fascination with them remained undiminished. But was their unusual premise sufficient to develop and carry an entire novel? Much more detective work was needed. It was still early when he loaded the last of his suitcases into the rented car. The overnight rain had degenerated into a faltering drizzle, patches of blue beginning to break through the overcast. His appointment with Richard was still two hours away, more than enough time to enjoy a hearty breakfast. * * * Dean Andrews’ comfortable, walnut-paneled office overlooked the campus quadrangle, and as he gazed out through his bay window he was clearly pleased at how the closely clipped grass was already responding to the previous night’s rain. �śA very long overdue blessing, indeed,” he said aloud, swiveling his leather chair back around to face David across the polished, antique desk. �śIt really couldn’t have come at a better time.” The dean smiled appreciatively as his secretary carried in a small tray. A matronly figure of quiet efficiency, Margaret had been with him for as long as anyone could remember. After depositing their coffees on the desk, she gave David a welcoming wink before returning to the outer office. Andrews was a slender, aristocratic-looking man with thinning white hair. A full thirty years older than David, his rather severe, aquiline features and bushy eyebrows belied an active sense of humor. Obviously content with his life and duties at Cornell, his congenial smile was for many his most charming feature. David regarded him fondly as they both sipped at their coffee. �śYour responsibilities here must really agree with you, Richard. What’s it been now, eleven years?” �ś Twelve, actually.” �ś Hard to believe. You don’t look any different now than you did during your years at the University of Michigan. So what’s your secret?” �ś Elise,” he replied without the least hesitation. �śAnd it’s no secret to anyone, I can assure you,” he added with a chuckle. �śShe tells me what to eat, when to eat; she’s even pestering me to take up tennis lessons, if you can believe it.” �ś Then she’s obviously doing a good job. Maybe next time I’m back in the States we can play a few sets.” Now reminded of their reason for getting together, the dean’s affable expression grew more serious. �śI can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your inclusion of Cornell in this tour. It’s given a great boost to our archaeology department. I’m told we had to turn people away from every single one of your presentations. It must be very satisfying for you.” David lifted his shoulders; then let them drop. This was true, he thought, but there was a nagging suspect side to all this enthusiasm. �śThe turnout was very gratifying, I’ll grant you, but�"” He paused, a hesitant look on his face. �ś But what?” �ś Well, I admit I sometimes questioned just who it was, exactly, that many of those people actually came to see. Was it the guest-lecturing professor? Or the recently acclaimed novelist?” The dean came as close to scowling as he was capable, dismissing this with a toss of his hand. �śRidiculous! They came to hear one of the leading experts in his field�"and you damn well know it!” He took a second to collect himself; then added, �śI can’t imagine you could even harbor such a foolish notion.” This was meant as a compliment, of course, and taken as such. Though he would never intentionally denigrate David’s literary success, the dean’s unspoken opinion on the subject was known; he considered it to be interesting, certainly, but peripheral in every way to the younger man’s true vocation. David allowed himself a proper moment of silence before changing the subject. �śBy the way, Richard, I should tell you I sent a fax off to Edith yesterday informing her I’m leaving all the tour material and slides with your library. We never got around to discussing it before I left Greece, but I’m very sure she’ll approve.” This mention of David’s illustrious great-aunt brought a smile back to the dean’s face. �śVery generous of you, indeed. And how is the dear, old girl doing these days? I don’t have to tell you what a treasure she is to us all. As spry as ever, I hope?” �ś Very much so. I’ll be sure to give her your best wishes.” �ś Please do.” The dean looked genuinely pleased; then leaned forward, placing both palms on his desk. �śBut back to the matter at hand,” he said. �śI suppose the arrangements are all made for your return flight?” �ś This coming Wednesday evening out of Kennedy.” �ś I see. So if necessary you have a few days to do a little traveling?” �ś Why do you ask?” �ś Well, it depends on whether or not you still wish to reach Miss DeCaylus. I made a few calls last night on her present whereabouts�"and if you hoped she was still on campus, I fear you’re going to be disappointed. It appears she was only here in Ithaca for the one day.” �ś You’re sure?” �ś I’m afraid so. I was fortunate enough to reach her landlord off campus. She shared an apartment here with another young woman who, as it turns out, was married yesterday morning in a very small, very private, ceremony. Apparently, Elizabeth came in briefly to attend the affair, then left before the reception even began.” David was skeptical. �śWhat, choosing instead to attend my afternoon lecture? Does that sound even remotely plausible to you?” �ś Not when you put it that way, no. On the other hand, your tour was widely advertised here at Cornell for months�"and in case I never mentioned it, ancient Mediterranean history was her major field of study.” �ś No, you didn’t,” said David. He found this of more than passing interest, for it might make his task a lot less difficult. �śWhat else did you find out? Any idea where she is now?” The dean tore a sheet off his notepad, handing it over. �śHer landlord was reluctant to give out this information, mind you, but Margaret can be extremely persuasive. It’s an address in a small town out on Cape Cod. There’s no phone listing for it, by the way. She checked.” �ś I appreciate it.” �ś Then I take it you’re going to try reaching her?” David nodded, folding the paper into his shirt pocket. �ś Well, I’ll not press you on your reasons for all this,” said the dean, leaning back in his chair with an indulgent smile. �śYou know your own business. So where does this leave us? Anything more I can help with?” David was glad of his friend’s patient forbearance. He would explain at some future point, but now wasn’t quite the time. �śSince you make the offer, I’d like to know everything you can possibly tell me about her. No detail too small.” The dean cocked his head. �ś This really is important to you, isn’t it?” �ś Trust me, Richard. I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t.” CHAPTER TWO The late summer wind came in chilly gusts off the choppy waters of Pleasant Bay, billowing the woman’s thin windbreaker and flattening the long, sun-coppered grass that fringed her isolated stretch of beach. She shivered as she walked, pushing hands ever deeper into the pockets of her jeans. It seemed more like October, she thought, than the closing days of August. It was going to rain soon; she felt the storm brewing, taste its impending arrival in the briny air. It had been hours since the sun last broke through the fast-moving clouds overhead. Now all was dark and overcast. Sighing, she glanced seaward. Normally at this time of day the high, wind-sculptured dunes of Nauset Beach were visible across the narrow bay. Now they were nonexistent, completely lost in an impenetrable shroud of gray. Putting her life back together wasn’t going to be easy, she knew; but then again, she’d never deceived herself into believing otherwise. Loneliness was the worst part�"the cold reality that there was simply no one to turn to for meaningful advice or reassurance . But wasn’t this part of what she wanted? To finally be her own person? Now she felt uncertain, beginning to wonder if she was even capable. And her sense of depression only deepened as she turned and looked down at the single set of footprints criss-crossing the sand, the written record of her long and solitary afternoon spent pacing the empty shoreline. Damn! I’m just no good at this! She walked inland, taking the planked pathway leading back up to the solitary, old house of her childhood. Built late in the nineteenth century, it was a traditional �Śsalt-box’ with two stories in front and one in the rear, its sloping roof angled sharply towards winter’s northeasters. The unpainted wood had long since weathered to a dull, silver patina from exposure to sun and sea air. Against the backdrop of the Cape’s south shore�"a realm of shallow ponds and wind-carved dunes dressed in bayberry and heath�"the visual effect was both natural and pleasing to the eye. And too, so wonderfully familiar! A tight smile crossed her lips as she drew near. If nothing else, she’d made at least one firm decision. Regardless of the estate lawyer’s well-intentioned recommendation, this house was definitely not going to be sold! No way. It was her anchor, encapsulated far too much of her past to ever let slip away. She entered through a screened-in porch, exchanging her jacket for a heavy, woolen sweater. In the corner stood a tall, lidded box containing a full supply of driftwood. Tonight it would feed a cozy fire to ease the unseasonable chill. Little enough to look forward to, she knew, but at least it was something. The open kitchen was old-fashioned, yet more than adequate for her simple needs. The only modern appliance�"if such it could even be called�"was a bulky, gas range her father installed some twenty years before. She put a kettle on the front burner, lighting a cigarette off the pale blue flame. With the water heating, she sat at the table and gazed out at the darkening landscape. Again she sighed, recalling how this was always her favorite spot as a little girl, particularly in the early morning hours. From here, she could see the gravel drive winding out to the main highway�"and when the sun was angled just right, a tiny reflection off the distant church steeple on the outskirts of Chatham. O h , dear, sweet Norman! Has it really been fourteen whole summers since you were laid to rest? It still seemed incredible to Elizabeth that so many years had slipped by since last she sat at this table. Not all childhood memories were pleasurable. Some were distinctly painful. She inhaled deeply on her cigarette, reaffirming her recent resolve to never again let others dictate the course of her life. The ultimate cost was too great, the losses far too permanent. It was a lesson hard learned, one she was determined never to forget. What she needed was a new direction�"but one of her choosing! And to a degree this process had already begun. Her overnight drive to Ithaca three days earlier had exemplified her determination to break free. She wouldn’t have gone were it only to attend her roommate’s wedding�"for even after sharing an apartment for six months, they really weren’t all that close. Her true reason was to face Susan’s brother one final time. The last she spoke to him was on the day of her father’s funeral when she told him their engagement was off. A final confrontation was needed to assure herself�"and him�"that it was over. Thomas Cooper III, junior partner in one of Boston’s most prestigious law firms, was simply not the man with whom she wished to spend the rest of her life. It took the shock of her father’s sudden passing to make her see the ugly truth. It was never a true marriage being planned. Instead it was no more than a business arrangement, a convenient union of two wealthy New England families. And all of it orchestrated by her father from the very beginning, employing every skill and connivance at his command to bring them together. Yet as hurtful as this knowledge was, she still felt no true bitterness towards him. His actions, certainly. Never his motives. In his own imperious way he doubtless believed he was doing the right thing, artfully manipulating her to his will as always. The real tragedy of it all was she almost allowed it to happen. Never again! Outside, the darkening sky appeared even more threatening, the gathering wind sending faint tremors through the walls. The prospect of a storm hitting after nightfall was beginning to unnerve her. She hated storms as much now as when a child�"and having to endure it alone only added to her growing sense of unease. Responding to the sharp whistle of the boiling kettle, she stood and turned off the burner. It was then she noticed headlights reflecting through the window. A car was pulling off the main highway and advancing up her gravel drive. A neighbor? It seemed unlikely. More than a week had passed since she opened up the old place, and no local had shown her the slightest interest. Someone taking a wrong turn was the most probable explanation. More puzzled than alarmed, she watched through parted curtains until the car came to a full stop. Only when the driver got out did she open the door and snap on the outside light. What the�"? She blinked, sure the problem must be her eyes. Under the circumstances any familiar face would be welcome�"but this made no sense at all! * * * David was fortunate to make the last afternoon flight out of Boston’s Logan Airport. The plane was completely booked, only a timely cancellation putting him onto the short flight to Provincetown. He rented a car on arrival, driving south on US 6 to the town of Orleans. There he picked up Rte 28 and headed down to the village of Chatham on the Cape’s south shore. The entire drive took less than an hour. The sky had been clear at Provincetown Airport; now it was approaching nightfall, the wind blustery with a spattering of rain on the windshield. An outside light came on as he got our and walked up to the house. She was staring at him in the open door, her face conveying a combination of puzzled recognition and disbelief. Wearing an oversized sweater and faded jeans, she looked, if anything, even more striking than he remembered. Unlike two days before, her long auburn hair was now loosely gathered behind her slim neck and tied with a bright scarf. He’d be hard pressed, he thought, to say which treatment he preferred. Both were extremely attractive. �ś Professor Manning�"?” He smiled, extending his hand. Never this close to her in the lecture hall, the vivid green of her eyes came as a pleasant surprise. �śI hope I haven’t startled you Miss DeCaylus. Or perhaps caught you at a bad time?” �ś No, really, I�"” She paused as she took his hand. �śI just wasn’t expecting anyone. Seeing you here comes as . . . well, as such a surprise.” It was clearly an awkward moment for her. He made it easier. �ś I believe I owe you an apology for the other day,” he said. �śIt really wasn’t my intention to embarrass you in any way. If you can forgive me, there’s an important matter I’d very much like to discuss with you.” �ś No, please, there’s really nothing to forgive.” She offered a tentative smile. �śThe fault was entirely mine. It�"it wasn’t one of my better days.” They went inside from the drizzling rain. An hour later, David sat on an over-stuffed couch in the living room, allowing Elizabeth all the time she required to read through the yellowed stack of letters. Sitting across from him in a cushioned armchair, her slim legs were tucked up beneath her as she devoured every page. He felt encouraged by her somber expression. The papers were holding her interest�"so much so, in fact, she now seemed oblivious to his presence. Her only discernable break in concentration was ten minutes earlier when she took a moment to light a cigarette. Since then it lay forgotten in a ceramic ashtray, its lazy spiral of smoke rising under a lampshade. Also untouched was a full mug of coffee at her elbow, now doubtless cold. Waiting for her to finish, he let his eyes roam absently about the cozy room. Some aspects of the house actually gave him the odd sensation of having stepped backwards in time; heavy period furniture with large, floral patterns�"quaint glass lamps with pyramid shades�"tasseled throw-rugs spread randomly over dull, hardwood floors . . . All spoke of a bygone era. If there was a television set anywhere in the house�"or even a radio�"he’d yet to see it. The whole rural package intrigued him. It was pleasant enough, yet not quite what he expected as a summer residence for one of the wealthiest young women in New England. Though his distraction by this curious observation seemed only momentary, when he shifted his attention back to Elizabeth, he found her now staring at him in icy silence�"and apparently she had been for several long moments. Her first words surprised him. A very blunt question. �ś Is it your opinion, Professor Manning, that my grandfather was insane?” * * * Elizabeth believed her question was entirely valid. She found the first of the letters to be somewhat puzzling; the balance a disturbing evolution into something that shocked her profoundly. There were a total of twenty-three letters in all, each written to a woman by the name of Edith Whiteley beginning in late October of 1955. The majority was postmarked out of either Cairo or Alexandria, the rest from places with unfamiliar names�"and anyone reading them in chronological order would have to be blind not to see the progressive mental deterioration unfolding with each page. Towards the last, they were almost too pathetic to read. And this her own grandfather, for God’s sake! She waited for David’s response, aware she was putting him on the spot, but not really caring. Part of what she felt was anger. If he came all this way simply to show evidence of her grandfather’s insanity, then it was nothing less than perverse! She wanted�" deserved �"a damn good explanation. His reply fell far short. �ś Truthfully,” he said, �śI don’t know if he was, or not.” �ś That’s no answer, Professor.” �ś If you want me to say it, then yes, I do think your grandfather was experiencing a serious mental decline when those were written. But insanity?” He paused. �śThat’s one explanation, certainly�"but hardly the only one.” �ś Such as what?” He lifted his hands. �śDepression, physical exhaustion, uncounted days and weeks without adequate nourishment or sleep . . . you name it.” Watching him respond, some of her initial anger receded, for unless he was a very gifted actor, he was making a real effort to be completely honest with her. He appeared to draw no pleasure from this. However, it still told her nothing. �ś If I understand this right,” she said in a calmer voice, �śMy grandfather believed he was on the verge of a truly great discovery�"or words to this effect, anyway. The writing in many of these is almost indecipherable, hardly more than a ragged scrawl. Since no such discovery ever happened, what does this say about his mental condition?” Again she noted his thoughtful hesitation before answering. �ś From what I’ve learned, Elizabeth, when all these letters were written your grandfather had been for years single-mindedly pursuing a dream that quite literally threatened to consume him. It was this dream�"obsession, if you will�"that kept him in Egypt for perhaps a full decade. I have no doubt he was under considerable strain when he started writing these . . . probably far more than anyone can even imagine.” �ś You know a great deal about a failed archaeologist now dead for�"what? Over sixty years?” �ś Not nearly as much as I’d like. That’s why I’m here.” She suspected much more was still going unsaid. �ś And these things you do know,” she asked, lifting one of the letters, �śdid it all come from this woman in Greece?” He gave an affirmative nod as he lit another cigarette. �ś Edith is my great-aunt,” he explained. �śShe and Lionel met briefly when she was in Cairo in the summer of 1955. The actual details are unimportant. However, the result was your grandfather came to see her as a trusted friend, someone worthy of his confidences. When she returned to Greece, he started writing to her on a regular basis. It was totally one-sided in that she really couldn’t write back, never knowing his location at any given time.” �ś I see.” A myriad of questions were taking shape in Elizabeth’s mind. But where to even begin? She started with the most obvious. �śYour great-aunt�"did she know exactly what it was that so obsessed him? I know I can’t figure any of it out from these papers. He makes vague allusions now and then, but never really says what it is. ” �ś To this day, Edith believes she’s probably the only person he ever shared it with, putting it down to his fear of being laughed at�"even ridiculed�"by his peers. Consequently, she understood the rationale behind his never stating it directly in these letters. I guess you could say he was somewhat paranoid about it.” Elizabeth waited for him to elaborate. �ś Tell me,” he now said, �śjust how familiar are you with the history of Alexander the Great?” She blinked in confusion. �śI don’t see what that’s got to�"” �ś I’ll be more specific. Do you know where Alexander’s body ended up after his death?” Puzzled, she said, �śI�"I think it was brought to Egypt, wasn’t it? Not to Greece as was originally intended. On the Nile delta . . . Alexandria, I believe.” He gave her a quick refresher lesson in history. �ś As you said, when Alexander died in Babylon in 323 B.C., it was the intent of his generals to take his body back to Macedonia. The accepted plan was to bury him in the ancient hill fortress of Aegae, which we now know as the modern city of Vergina.” �ś Where Phillip’s tomb was found . . .” He again nodded. �śTowards that end, they spent a full two years overseeing the construction of a massive, jewel-encrusted, sarcophagus of gold to hold his embalmed body, plus an equally elaborate funeral car to transport it a thousand miles up the old Royal Road of Persia to the Mediterranean. According to all accounts, no expense was spared, for even in death he was considered by his contemporaries to be a virtual god. But when this slow-moving catafalque reached Syria, the entire plan fell apart. �ś In the power struggle that ensued after Alexander’s death, one of his ablest Generals, Ptolemy by name, claimed Egypt as his share of the fragmenting empire. Under the pretense of paying a last homage to his dead master, he rode out with an army and effectively hijacked the entire funeral cortege, diverting it down into Egypt. There he declared himself a king, installing Alexander’s mortal remains in his new capital city of Alexandria. By its mere presence inside his borders he believed the shrine would somehow bestow legitimacy to the dynasty he wished to establish. �ś And his clever ploy worked. The body was venerated in Alexandria for almost four hundred years; roughly three centuries under the many Ptolemies, followed by yet another eighty years, or so, under the rule of Imperial Rome. During all this long period, it lay undisturbed in a temple known as the Soma , honored by the city and revered by an Egyptian priesthood that firmly believed Alexander was no less than the last true son of their supreme god, Amun-Ra.” �ś And then?” �ś Well, after this, all reliable historical references to the shrine abruptly cease. Sometime in the latter half of the first century, the remains of Alexander the Great simply disappears from history. Under what exact circumstances this happened, no one knows. A complete mystery. Theories abound, of course, but it’s all pure conjecture. In point of fact, Alexandria today is so much altered from what it was in ancient times, modern historians can’t even figure out where the Soma once stood.” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. �ś Please tell me you’re not going to say my grandfather thought Alexander’s body, or coffin�"or whatever�"was still out there somewhere?” A faint smile came to his lips. �śMore than that, actually. If I read his last letter correctly, I think he fervently believed he knew where it was.” �ś Are you serious? Surely you don’t think for a second that he�"” �ś I’m only saying what he believed, Elizabeth.” �ś I’m sorry, but all of this comes across to me like some kind of wild, delusional fantasy.” �ś And perhaps it is. But who can say what’s possible and what’s not? After all, until Howard Carter found the tomb of Tutanhkamon, almost no one believed for a moment there were any intact royal tombs left in the Valley of the Kings.” �ś Howard Carter? God, you’re putting my grandfather in some rather august company, aren’t you?” �ś No, not really. Though most people don’t know, the high respect now universally bestowed on Carter came only after his amazing discovery. Prior to that, he was merely a self-taught Egyptologist with very little to recommend him beyond his passion for archaeology. Basically, it was pretty much only luck and determination that brought him international fame.” She considered this for a moment; then frowned, shaking her head. �śBe that as it may, this still doesn’t justify lumping them together. I know almost nothing about my grandfather’s many years in Egypt, but I do know he made no serious discoveries�"or finds of any kind for that matter. If he did, don’t you think his family would’ve known?” �ś Well, not necessarily. Although Lionel’s formal training was hardly the best, he was more than just a talented amateur with a year or so of field experience under his belt. According to Edith, he knew his craft very well�"and if you were at all familiar with her credentials, that’s very high praise indeed.” He paused, appearing to gather his thoughts. �śAs to finding something significant, he clearly felt he’d done just that. In my opinion his last letter can be read no other way. Now, what it was exactly�"whether it be an artifact, an ancient inscription�"there’s really no way of knowing. The point being, he thought he had found something of enormous importance.” Elizabeth remained confused as to where all this was leading. �ś Okay,” she said, �śI can appreciate what you’re saying�"but only up to a point. Isn’t all of this only credible if my grandfather was sane at the time he wrote these? Let’s be honest here. We’ve both read them�"and I don’t think either one of us leans strongly in that direction.” �ś A valid point,” he agreed, �śand under normal rules of logic, it should be the clinching argument. However, there’s something else here that gives me pause to wonder.” He looked at her closely. �śIf you don’t mind my asking, do you know the date and circumstances of Lionel’s death?” She had an uneasy feeling, wondering where he was going with this. �ś No, not exactly,” she finally admitted. �śIt was in the mid-fifties, I know. An accident. He fell from a balcony, I think, or down a flight of stairs of some kind. At any rate, he died as a result of the injuries.” He retrieved a folded sheet of paper from his open briefcase. �ś To be exact, your grandfather died in the late night hours of August 11, 1956, when he fell down an open stairwell in a hotel in Alexandria. If you look at the postmark on Lionel’s last letter, you’ll see it was mailed on August 4, just seven days prior.” She looked at the envelope in her lap. Now she saw his direction. �śOh surely,” she said, �śyou’re not suggesting his death was anything more than mere�"” �ś Coincidence? Maybe. But take a look at this.” He handed over the sheet. �śThis is a translation of the original police report on your grandfather’s death. One of the things it says is that Lionel was registered at the hotel under an assumed name. It sort of implies he was hiding from someone, don’t you think?” �ś There could be a dozen different reasons for�"” �ś Perhaps,” he again interrupted, �śbut there’s one more thing. It also states that the Egyptian officer in charge of the investigation strongly suspected Lionel’s neck was already broken before the fall even took place.” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. �śYou’re saying he thought my grandfather was murdered?” �ś I’m afraid so. He just couldn’t prove it.” Long seconds passed in silence, and she found herself wondering just what exactly it was that this man wanted from her. It still wasn’t clear. To buy herself more time, she got to her feet and walked over to the kitchen cabinets. �śSpeaking for myself, Professor,” she said, �śI think we’re both ready for something a bit stronger than coffee.” CHAPTER THREE Driven on a fast rising wind, heavy rain pelted noisily at the window as Elizabeth mixed their drinks. David used the opportunity to briefly explain a few things, beginning with the rather unique relationship existing between his great-aunt and the University of Thessalonika. Listening, she occasionally nodded, asking only a few questions. He concluded by saying, �śAnd when Edith eventually retired from full-time teaching, she offered to donate the bulk of her personal papers and accumulated research material to their library. Due to the remarkable body of work she achieved over her long career�"not to mention her standing as one of the top, living authorities on Greek antiquities�"they were, of course, thrilled to accept. Because of her advanced age, it more or less fell to me to sort through and evaluate everything. The university board thought this appropriate, my being her closest relative, and all.” �ś I assume that’s when you came across my grandfather’s letters.” �ś Exactly.” �ś And when did all this take place?” �ś Close to four months ago. Like you, my initial reaction was one of complete puzzlement. When I took them to Edith, she told me the whole story. To say the least, I found it intriguing�"so much so I contacted a colleague of mine in Alexandria and had him dig out the official police report on Lionel’s death. It took some effort, but he eventually got it.” She returned, handing him his glass. �śJust vodka and fruit juice,” she said. �śI’m afraid that’s all I have in the cupboard.” �ś That’s fine.” She curled back up in the chair. �śThere are still a few things that confuse me.” �ś Such as?” �ś Why did you take such an interest in these letters? Was it strictly the subject matter?” �śPrimarily, yes. And too, the timing. My focus over the past several years has been with an excavation outside Pella, the ancient Macedonian capital. There’s now no question that what we’re unearthing was the summer palace of Phillip the Second, which means that all of the beautiful mosaic floors and halls we’ve so far exposed were in all likelihood once walked on by Alexander as a youth. That’s pretty heady stuff. But unfortunately, the land abutting the site remains under private ownership. The dig had to be shut down. It may well be a year before it’s all resolved and I can re-open again.” �ś Leaving you with time on your hands?” �śThat’s the only reason I accepted this lecture tour when the university approached me.” He waited a moment, then asked, �śYou said something else confuses you?” �ś Yes, it’s about your great-aunt. I’m just curious, mind you, but back at the time of my grandfather’s death�"knowing the contents of his last letters�"didn’t she find it all even the least bit suspicious?” �śShe probably would have,” he said, �śbut she only learned of Lionel’s death many years later. And even then she was given very few details.” This appeared to satisfy Elizabeth. With no more questions forthcoming, he asked one of his own. �śI don’t think I mentioned this before, but did I tell you I had a brief phone conversation with your father back in early June?” �śNo, you never said.” Her interest showed on her face. �śHow did you even know he existed?” �śWhen Edith was in Egypt, Lionel apparently spoke more than once about his son, Jacob. As prominent and successful as your father eventually became, it wasn’t all that difficult for me to track him down. I wrote to him twice from Salonika, giving him my phone number and e-mail address, but never got a response.” A smile crossed her lips, her eyes twinkling. �śNo real surprise there,” she said, �śbut please go on.” �śMy first stop of the tour was Boston University, so I tried contacting him by phone within a day of my arrival. No offence, but your father wasn’t the most cordial man I’ve ever tried talking to. When I identified myself, he literally slammed his phone in my ear.” Her burst of laughter was spontaneous, if short-lived. �śYou’re probably lucky that’s all he did!” Caught by surprise, he asked, �śWhat am I missing here?” She shook her head, still smiling. �śOh, don’t get me wrong, my father could be a perfectly charming and thoughtful man whenever it suited his purpose. You simply made the mistake of raising a very touchy subject. Believe me, it had nothing to do with you personally. What you couldn’t know was that any discussion, or even mention, of my grandfather was strictly taboo, off-limits to everyone.” �śBut surely not to you.” �śYes, even me,” she said, her amusement fading. �śWhat little I know about my grandfather, I learned from other sources�"and it was enough for me to understand his bitterness towards his dad. My father was only about seventeen or thereabouts when Lionel packed up and left for Egypt, and he never found it in himself to forgive this desertion of him and his mother.” She gave an audible sigh. �śMaking matters worse, an outbreak of influenza took my grandmother not long afterwards. At best, my father considered Lionel little more than an irresponsible wastrel, and it was probably true. Too, there were great financial problems. To pay for his travels, Lionel drew heavily on all his family holdings, almost to the point of bankruptcy. In fact, this property here on the Cape was just about the only thing of any real value that he left free and clear.” �śThis was Lionel’s house? I didn’t realize.” �śBorn and raised here. It came to my father after Lionel died, of course, but by then my father was a grown man living in Boston. This eventually became an occasional summer retreat.” She looked around. �śIt’s amazing that he was even able to keep it. My understanding is it took him years to clear away all of Lionel’s debts. The psychological scars were harder, I guess. They really never did go away.” David sipped thoughtfully at his drink, believing Elizabeth’s story explained a lot. The emotional wounds inflicted on Jacob as a young man doubtless forged his life-long drive to succeed. But at what price? Ambition alone didn’t spawn millionaires; usually great personal sacrifices had to be made along the way. Now he began to wonder if perhaps his daughter was one of them. �śI must admit,” he said aloud, �śI was surprised when Dean Andrews told me you were Jacob’s daughter.” �ś And not his granddaughter , you mean?” �ś I didn’t mean that to sound�"” �śI’m sorry,” she apologized. �śThat was purely a reflex action. It’s what everyone naturally assumed when seeing us together. My father was well into his fifties before he married. By the time I came along, he was already pretty set in his ways. And it didn’t help losing my mother when I was only three. Perhaps if she’d lived things might’ve . . .” Her voice trailed off, letting the thought go unexpressed. �śAnyway, I can sympathize with what he went through. Despite all our later differences, I do know we both loved each other deeply. It’s just that we weren’t always very good at showing it.” His suspicions confirmed, David stood and stepped over to the stone fireplace. On the beam mantle was a framed, black and white photograph that first caught his eye while she was reading through the letters. He picked it up for closer examination, asking, �śIs this a picture of Lionel?” �śAnd my father, as well. Far as I know, it’s the only photograph of them together.” He studied it with interest. The occasion was a carnival of some sort. In the background was a confectionary advertising snow cones for a nickel. Of the two figures, the elder was a thin man with somewhat curly hair and sloping shoulders. Curiously, Lionel was much as David imagined him; the eyes restless, the delicate features narrow and ascetic. The classic look of an unfulfilled dreamer? Perhaps he was projecting too much. The young boy beside him, however, appeared to be cut from a different cloth entirely; stocky in build, darker complexioned, the rounded face definitely more intense. He stood facing the camera with his arms flat at his sides, his solemn expression almost challenging. And the photo hinted at something else, as well. It was a subtle thing, yet still there for anyone to see. Considering where they were, their pose seemed to be far too rigid and uncomfortable. Rather than father and son, they looked more like two strangers placed beside each other at the arbitrary whim of the photographer. If an emotional bond existed between these two, the lens had failed to capture it. Curious about this, he said, �śIf you don’t mind my asking, did you ever have any sense of what you’re father’s reaction was to Lionel’s death? I realize it was well before your time . . .” She was slow to reply. �śWhen I was younger,” she said finally, �śI occasionally wondered about it myself, unsure in my own mind if he secretly mourned his father’s death in a strange land. He never really indicated one way or the other. Not verbally, anyway. But I think the answer was right here all the time. I just wasn’t clever enough to see it.” Her eyes moved slowly around, taking in all the period furnishings and quaint trappings of a distant time. �śI was only in my mid-teens when I spent my last summer vacation here, too young to really see this house for what it actually represented. It wasn’t until I opened it up a week or so ago that I realized how blind I’d been. I’ve never known a time when my father wasn’t extremely wealthy�"rich enough to do or afford anything he damn well pleased�"and yet here this place was, completely unchanged since the time of his boyhood, almost like some sort of sealed time capsule. Even more telling, wherever I looked I found evidence he’d been coming here alone on a regular basis just to keep things up.” She paused, her eyes glistening. �śHow sad. I only wish I’d known.” David had no words of comfort to fill the awkward silence. He understood at least some of what she was going through. How could he not? He recognized the symptoms from his own experience, knew all the familiar patterns of guilt for what they truly were. In the numbing aftermath of losing loved ones, by far the most difficult emotion to deal with is always the lingering sense of regret and remorse one feels over lost opportunities. Coming here was a huge mistake, he now thought. His intrusion had served no purpose or benefit to either of them. Except for a few insights into Lionel’s background, he’d gained nothing. If Lionel ever revealed to anyone what so excited him over the last few days of his life, it almost certainly wasn’t to his son. By everything Elizabeth told him, Jacob and her grandfather were estranged from the time Lionel left Cape Cod until his death nine years later. In all likelihood, Lionel took the secret to his grave. He glanced at the antique clock on the mantle, noting the lateness of the hour. �śI think perhaps it’s about time for me to go. I’m sorry for taking up so much of your evening. The storm’s only going to get stronger, by the sound of it, and I still have to find accommodations.” �śOh, God, I really should’ve asked you about that sooner. August is the height of the tourist season here on the Cape. If you haven’t booked anything by now, well chances are you’re not going to find a room anywhere. You can use the spare bedroom upstairs. Honestly, David, it’s really no trouble at all.” �śAre you sure?” he said, pleased by her use of his first name. �śIf it’s going to be an inconvenience, I can always�"” �śNo trouble at all,” she assured him. �śIn fact, you’ll be doing me a favor.” �śHow so?” �śWell, for one thing, it gives me the opportunity to cook an actual meal for two people. Something I haven’t done in ages.” * * * David awoke refreshed at first light. As he dressed it now struck him that he had no idea whether or not Elizabeth was an early riser. She never indicated one way or the other�"and the last thing he wanted was to disturb her. Thus he made every attempt to be quiet as he made his way downstairs and slipped out through the screened porch. He lit the last cigarette in his pack as walked down the planked pathway, drawn by a spectacular sunrise building across the placid bay. They had stayed up late, both enjoying a second drink with their meal and the comfort of a driftwood fire. By the time they finally retired the storm was long spent. Enjoying the moment, he stood at the water’s edge, absorbing the peaceful silence and thinking how easily he could be seduced by such solitude. The landscape struck him as reminiscent of an Andrew Wyeth painting; at first glance almost empty, yet rich in muted color and subtle detail. Had anything of real substance changed here over the past century? He guessed not. As a youngster, Lionel almost certainly played along this very stretch of sand�"and in his mind’s eye, he could picture the smallish boy scampering barefoot and happy across the beach, seeking adventure and treasure behind every wind-swept dune. Could any child with imagination not be inspired by such an idyllic existence? Perhaps in some way it even contributed to what he eventually became. But such speculation was now meaningless, he knew, serving no real purpose. His focus now shifted to the woman still sleeping inside. Richard had related to him virtually all he knew about Elizabeth, even including�"with some reluctance�"an unsubstantiated rumor overheard by Elise at an alumni tea party. The story circulating was that a supposedly imminent engagement announcement between Elizabeth and a prominent young attorney had been called off. If true, it was hardly a scandal; but it would go a long way towards explaining her recent behavior. As traumatic as her father’s death was, he found it hard to believe it was her sole reason for isolating herself like this out on the Cape. She gave no indication the story had substance during their evening conversation�"but, then again, why would she bring up something this personal with a relative stranger? David turned and retraced his steps, knowing it wasn’t going to be easy leaving today. He liked Elizabeth very much�"and on levels that were decidedly unfamiliar to all his previous experiences. Without question, she was a very special young woman. At the front of the house he unlocked the rental, retrieving a fresh pack of cigarettes off the car’s dash. A hot cup of coffee would taste damn good right about now. But with Elizabeth still asleep�" A sharp rap at the window pulled his head up. She was smiling at him from inside, tempting him with a raised mug. If anything, the morning light only enhanced her natural beauty. No, leaving today wasn’t going to be easy at all! * * * They drove into Chatham before eight o’clock, Elizabeth needing to replenish her supply of groceries. David offered to drive. It provided him with a convenient excuse to spend more time with her. Too, he was in no rush to return to Provincetown, his flight still a good five hours away. What little he saw of the quaint village, he liked. It was a picturesque place, not untouched by the summer invasion of tourists, but short on the unsightly billboards and wall-to-wall souvenir shops so prevalent further north. The store she guided him to was typical of most rural towns, not unlike one where he once bussed groceries as a boy. Even the elderly proprietor appeared characteristically true to type, smiling a pleasant greeting at his first customers of the day. Her few purchases filled only two bags, which he placed in the truck. As he got behind the wheel, she said, �śIf you don’t mind, David, there’s one more stop I’d really like to make. It won’t take me but a few minutes, I promise. We go right by it on the way back.” Her directions took them to a white, clapboard church on the fringe of town, where he parked in the shade of a huge sycamore. Adjoining the church was an old cemetery enclosed by a rusty, wrought iron fence. Inside the gate, Elizabeth stood for moment as if getting her bearings, then led him to a plain granite marker. Bending forward, she placed her hand affectionately on the polished surface. The name cut deep into the stone read Norman Kant Wakelin. Born in 1912, he was eighty-four years old at the time of his death in 1996. �śIf you wondered last night,” she said, �śhow I ever learned anything at all about my grandfather, it was from this dear, sweet soul.” He waited for her to elaborate. �śNorman was a retired merchant seaman living all alone in that first small farmhouse on the road into Chatham. When I was little, he made my vacations here something special, gave me memories I’ll always treasure. It seemed there wasn’t anything he didn’t know about Chatham, or Cape Cod�"or the whole world, for that matter.” She smiled wistfully. �śHis home was close enough for me to slip over for visits whenever my father wasn’t watching. I couldn’t begin to count the times I spent sitting on Norman’s front porch, listening to him tell of all the exotic and wonderful places he visited in his lifetime.” When she paused, he asked, �śYour father didn’t approve of Mr. Wakelin? Mind telling me why?” �śIt’s rather simple, really. You see, Norman and my grandfather grew up here together. Best friends since childhood. And they remained so to the end, even after Lionel deserted his family.” �śSomething your father wasn’t about to forgive?” She nodded. �śThat Norman and my grandfather stayed close was intolerable to him. But friends they remained. Norman told me once that even when Lionel was off living in Egypt, they still found opportunities to meet. It wasn’t often, I imagine, but whenever Norman’s schedule took him into Port Said or Alexandria, Lionel somehow manage to greet his ship, even if it only gave them a few hours together.” Again, she paused, then added, �śI know Norman was hurt by my father’s enmity, but he understood the reasons and accepted them. That was the sort of man he was. He didn’t have it in him to pass judgment on anyone. With no family of his own, I guess he kind of adopted me. It’s rather difficult to put into words, but I always thought of him as the grandfather I never knew.” She straightened up, a film of tears evident in her eyes. �śI suppose that sounds a bit strange, I realize�"” �śNot to me.” �śDo you think maybe it was somehow being disloyal to my father?” �śNot at all.” He took his time driving back to the house. * * * A half hour later, sandwiches made and fresh coffee brewing on the stove, Elizabeth went upstairs. As she walked the hallway to her bedroom, she hesitated at the bathroom door, wondering if David might need one of the fresh razors her father kept in the cabinet drawer. She considered knocking, but thought better of it when she heard water running in the shower. Once in her bedroom, she sat before her bureau mirror in a growing mood of dejection as she brushed out her hair. There was no question David was a very fascinating man; probably one of the most interesting and accomplished she’d ever encountered. Not only was he a gifted educator and archaeologist, but also a successful writer. And she’d be lying to herself, she knew, not to admit she found him physically attractive. But what most appealed to her defied ready definition, not something she could consciously put her finger on . And now he was leaving, soon to be out of her life completely. Just knowing this left her feeling even more confused and empty. What she needed was far more time to sort out all of her conflicting emotions. But time was running out. Within the hour, he’d be gone. Perhaps it would be different, she now speculated, if she could’ve somehow given him more information on her grandfather. But there was really nothing more to offer. After her father’s death, she’d gone through all of his private papers and correspondence in Boston. Absolutely nothing pertained to Lionel. Nor was there anything here on the Cape. Christ, if there was anything lying around, then surely she would’ve encountered it by now! There wasn’t a single place in the entire house that she hadn’t�" Or was there? The attic! Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Elizabeth set the brush down and hurried out into the hall, only to hear the shower still running. She debated waiting for him; then decided against it. Surely it made more sense to begin exploring on her own, she reasoned. Why raise false hopes on his part when there was probably nothing? Besides which, the door leading up into the attic was right there at the end of the hallway. By leaving it open, she’d certainly hear when he came out. Satisfied this was workable, she climbed the narrow stairway to the next floor, there flipping a switch inside the attic entrance. Though the light fixture was mounted high on the wall, the bulb was layered in dust, the illumination it provided inadequate for the size of the room. What she really needed was a good flashlight. At first glance, the visible contents of the dingy room were disappointing, offering little to investigate. Nothing like she’d hoped, anyway. Just some open cardboard boxes, a few pieces of dated furniture, and further back a flimsy rack of what looked to be old suits and winter coats. Opening one of the boxes she saw pairs of worn shoes and folded articles of children’s clothing, keepsakes someone had long ago chosen to save. �ś Elizabeth?” �śI’m up here,” she answered. Leaning over the railing, she saw him looking up, still tucking in his shirt. �śI thought it might be a smart idea if we took a quick peek through some of this material if you’ve still got time. There’s not as much as I first hoped, but what there is has been up here for ages. We’re going to need a flashlight to do it right. If you don’t mind, I’m sure there’s one in the kitchen drawer beside the sink. Could you�"?” �śGive me a second. I’ll be right up.” Rather than wait for him, she began checking out the portable rack. It was a metal tube affair, holding a dozen or more assorted suits on wire hangers. Why anyone had saved them was beyond her imagining. All of them were wool, now permeated with the musty scent of decay and mothballs. Holding onto the top bar, she separated several, seeing nothing of interest. She turned her head to the sound of David’s footsteps on the stairs�"and as she did so, the rack suddenly shifted on its casters, tilting sharply away from her. As she reached forward to steady it, her foot caught on something solid, sending both her and the rack crashing to the floor. David was at her side immediately. �śAre you all right?” he asked, helping her up. More embarrassed than hurt, she brushed off her legs and elbows. �śNo, really, I’m fine. Honestly, it was the stupidest darn thing. I tripped over something just as you came up.” �śThis?” He bent down and dragged a smallish trunk from beneath the wreckage of the rack. It was also layered in dust, a frayed square of paper affixed to the lid. To better see, he snapped on the flashlight. �śThat’s definitely the culprit,” she said, watching as he wiped the paper with his hand. �śI really should’ve waited for more light, but figured�"” She stopped short, noting the strange look building on his face. �śWhat is it, David?” He held the beam of light on the paper. �śYou better take look at this,” he said in a low voice. �śIf I read this right, it’s a shipping bill from Alexandria, Egypt.” �śWhat�"?” �śAnd look at the stamp date.” Doing so, her eyes widened in shock. It read August 11, 1956�"the date her grandfather died. CHAPTER FOUR David maneuvered the dusty trunk down both sets of stairs to the living room. The weight was actually negligible; by its size and appearance hardly more than one might expect it to weigh empty. Yet it did contain something , for he felt a distinct shifting inside as he deposited it on the floor. The trunk’s age was obvious. It was a period piece, of a type and style unseen since before his father’s time. If this belonged to Lionel�"which it must have�"it was probably old even then. Plates of tarnished metal protected the corners, each dented and scarred from decades of rough handling. Two leather belts bound the lid shut, both buckled securely at the front. A keyed lock was built into the metal latch, though a cursory examination of its construction was encouraging; cheaply made, springing the inside mechanism should present little challenge. While Elizabeth hunted through the kitchen for a tool to accomplish this, he tackled the problem of the leather straps. The aged material was a good two inches wide, long since dried and shrunken in place; unbuckling them was no longer possible. Seeing no alternative, he knelt on the floor and pulled with all his strength until the clasps either snapped or tore free. He then flipped the straps out of the way as Elizabeth returned with a screwdriver. �ś It’s all I can find,” she said, kneeling down beside him. �śIf it doesn’t work, we’ll have to get a hammer or something and bust it loose.” That extreme measure proved unnecessary. As expected, the lock sprung easily and he opened the lid. Their first glimpse at the trunk’s jumbled contents dashed Elizabeth’s high expectations. She sighed in disappointment, sitting back on her heels. Inside appeared to be nothing more than a pair of worn boots atop a crudely wrapped bundle of old clothing. But was this all? David didn’t think so. Circled and tied with cheap twine, the lump was surrounded by bed sheets�"or something similar in size and material�"used more or less as stuffing between it and the inner walls. Like an egg in a nest, he thought. But why? He broke the twine, setting the boots aside. There was something of weight inside the makeshift package. He felt the heft of it as he pealed back the layers of clothing. Finally, there remained only a soiled cotton shirt wrapped tight around a hard�" �ś My God! ” he exclaimed. For the briefest moment, he felt his jaw actually drop as he continued to stare at the object in his hand. It was a circular plate of solid gold the width of his palm�"and easily a full quarter of an inch thick. But it was the design emblazoned across its surface that froze his mind in wonder. It was beautiful�"perfect in every detail�"and there was no question as to what it represented. Elizabeth finally broke the long silence. �ś David, is�"is that what I think it�"?” He nodded mechanically. �śNo doubt, whatsoever. It’s the ancient sunburst symbol of Macedonian kings.” Molded into the surface of the gold disk were the classic eight elongated teardrop shapes required to create the symbol. The four larger were fashioned in lapis lazuli, the smaller in the finest quality carnelian�"and all radiating outward from a central circle of pale blue turquoise. The cut and polished stones were superb, each masterfully keyed in place with minute strands of gold wire. The visual effect was stunning in its perfection. Elizabeth swallowed, clasping his arm to steady herself. �ś Does�"does this mean,” she whispered incredulously, �śmy grandfather might’ve actually found the body of Alexander the Great? That this came from his�"his�"” Sharing her wonderment, he gave no immediate reply. At this moment, what else was there for him to believe? Everything pointed to this single, mind-boggling conclusion�"and the clear evidence of it was right here in his hand. And it was real! * * * Six days later and half a world away from Cape Cod, David stood alone looking out through the sliding glass doors of Dr. Edith Whiteley’s private study. In his hand was a glass of scotch and soda, freshly made at her wet-bar. The deep blue of the late afternoon sky over Salonika was a welcome sight to his eyes; red tiles above brilliant white stucco, lush grass, the narrow gravel walkways�"all combined to create the rural Greek atmosphere he’d come to love. Living here in Greece for the past number of years had made a convert of him. He felt at home. The familiar residence of his great-aunt was a rambling, tile-roofed collection of buildings that crowned a high hill overlooking the suburbs of Greece’s second largest city. The growing complex�"for such the property was fast becoming since its recent donation to the University of Thessalonika�"already contained a sizeable laboratory, several offices, and even a modest library. And there were still more additions on the drawing board, projects yet to be started. He shifted his eyes across a wide lawn to the south patio, watching as Edith mingled happily among a gathering of university guests. She clearly appeared to thrive on all the solicitous attention being bestowed upon her. And why shouldn’t she? he thought as he sipped again at his drink. It was damn well earned! No living person had done more to enhance the reputation for excellence now being enjoyed by the university. Plump in her flowered, cotton dress, she was a strong-featured woman with cropped, silver hair and sprightly blue eyes. Except for a chronic shortness of breath, which necessitated her reliance on a cane, she could easily pass for much younger than her admitted eighty-six years. Nor had her advanced age dulled her intellectual capabilities in any detectable way. Far from it. In David’s opinion, she still remained one of the most brilliant people he ever knew. As if somehow aware of his thoughts, Edith now left the patio and began walking back up the gravel path towards him. It was coming up on five o’clock, and knowing his wish to speak with her briefly in private, she’d doubtless given her guests some trivial excuse to break away. While waiting, he glanced over to where Elizabeth sat chatting with several others around a shaded table. All were people she’d met only a few hours before. If the experience of being thrust among complete strangers unnerved her, it wasn’t evident. The long flight out of New York into Athens, not to mention their connecting flight into Salonika’s Mikra Airport last night, had almost certainly exhausted her�"which only made her relaxed demeanor all the more admirable. As he watched, he noted one man in particular seemed bent on monopolizing her attention. His name was Sal Oristano, one of Edith’s long-time acquaintances and a seemingly perennial guest at all of her functions. Not someone David particularly liked, he was a tall, olive-complexioned fellow who exuded the relaxed poise and charm of inherited wealth. Though not unattractive to women, his playboy image had gained him a rather mixed reputation in Salonika’s higher social circles. Fortunately, however, Elizabeth was presently in the reliable care of Nick Travlos, David’s closest friend at the University. Just knowing that she’d arrived with him was quite reason enough for Nick and his wife to watch over her. He regretted the necessity of leaving Elizabeth alone for a time, but felt it was unavoidable. There was a matter he must discuss with Edith in strictest confidence; a subject that must be fully explored before the three of them got together later in the evening. If Elizabeth was going to be hit with any unpleasant revelations about her grandfather, then he wanted to know of it in advance. The study door opened behind him. Turning, he set his drink down and embraced the elderly woman warmly. Since his early morning arrival, this was their first real greeting in private. �ś Did I tell you how much I missed you?” she said, clasping his hands and beaming up at him. �śYou look well. The tour couldn’t have been all that tiresome.” �ś Not bad at all. I’m sorry we showed up at such a busy time for you. I thought these little fund-raisers weren’t going to be held until late September?” �ś They weren’t. Not initially, anyway. But things have a way of changing, as you well know. They now say the scheduling for the new lab annex has to be moved up a few months; something about an expected rise in construction costs, or some such thing. I care only it gets completed before I’m too old and decrepit to make use of it. In case you haven’t noticed, dear boy, I’m hardly getting any younger.” He smiled, just as she fully intended. Her unflagging humor and high spirits were always infectious. Pleased, she released his hands and moved to the glass doors. By the direction of her gaze and thoughtful expression, he knew who it was she was watching. �ś So what do you think of her?” he asked. �ś A very charming and lovely woman. Perhaps most appealing of all, I don’t think she’s even aware of how beautiful she really is.” She moved her head slightly. �śBut I still find it difficult to accept that she’s actually Lionel’s granddaughter. Imagine, after all this time. Why, it hardly seems possible.” �ś Any family resemblance? Must take you back . . .” Marginally amused, she turned and looked into his eyes. �ś Really, David, it’s been over half a century. Just how vivid do you expect my memory to be?” He shrugged. �śOnly curious.” Suspicious, she fixed him with a penetrating look. �śNow why do I get the feeling you thought maybe my meeting her would somehow�"What? Maybe jog loose all the fuzzy cobwebs from this old head of mine? Believe me, David, I can’t add anything more about Lionel than I’ve already told you. Is this why you wanted to see me alone?” It never ceased to amaze him how intuitive she was; how easily she sometimes saw into the workings of his mind. �śWell, it does have to do with Lionel, yes.” �ś Can’t it wait until later? I thought we agreed to discuss this big mystery of yours later this evening after everyone’s gone.” �ś And we will. But there’s a question I need answered before then; something only you can tell me.” �ś Which is?” He hesitated, unsure how best to phrase it. �śIt concerns Lionel’s actual character, his personal ethics . . . Something we really never got into.” Her brow knit in growing irritation. �śOh, you’ll have to do better than that! I haven’t the foggiest idea what you�"” �ś Then I’ll be more specific,” he said bluntly. �śDid he ever give you reason to suspect he was involved in any kind of smuggling operation?” She gave a firm shake of her head before he even finished. �ś Not once,” she declared. �śNever!” �ś You don’t want to give it more thought?” �ś I don’t need to. That’s hardly something I’d be likely to forget, now is it?” �ś As long as you’re sure.” Edith pursed her lips thoughtfully. �śDoes this have anything at all to do with those rumors concerning the Burkhart dig at Tell El Amarna? Because if it does, then you’re way off the mark.” �ś Tell El Amarna was the last place he was employed before his death. At least that we know of, anyway.” �ś Proving what? That he was somehow involved in something nefarious? What an absurd conclusion! There were probably fifteen or more people working that brief excavation�"and God only knows how much native labor!” �ś It was more than just �Śrumors,’ Edith. Valuable artifacts did disappear.” �ś So out of the blue you suspect Lionel was one of the culprits?” �ś I didn’t say that. I merely want to know if you thought he was capable of such behavior.” �ś Well, he wasn’t!” she said dismissively. �śAnd what about Elizabeth? It would be very cruel of you to even suggest her grandfather was�"�ś �ś I haven’t. That’s why I wanted to get this out of the way in private.” He smiled briefly. �śBelieve me, your final judgment on his character is important to me. I need to hear it said.” Edith leaned back against her desk. �śAm I to assume all this has to do with why you’ve spent all day locked up alone in the lab? Or why you intend flying off to Athens and Cairo tonight when you’ve only just arrived?” �ś You’re skirting the subject.” Exasperated, she heaved a sigh. �śAll right, I see we’ll have do it your way. But the least you can do is meet me half way and stop being so inscrutable. If you think you’ve evidence Lionel might have been involved in something shady, then please just come out and say it.” �ś Would it surprise you?” �ś It most certainly would! And I strongly doubt anything you think you have would ever convince me.” �ś Why is that?” She hesitated, now looking less inclined to be angry with him. If anything, she appeared weary. �śLionel DeCaylus was a most unusual man in many ways,” she said in a calmer tone. �śBut a criminal? No. He was far too decent to ever stoop to such a thing. He’d no more steal and sell artifacts on the black-market than�"well, than you would! It simply wasn’t in him, David. You’ll just have to take my word on it.” He accepted the sincerity of her judgment, if not its veracity. He understood her natural kindness towards others, her willingness to see only the best in people. It was one of her most endearing qualities and he had no wish to challenge her further. He needed her honest opinion on Lionel, and she’d given it. It was obvious she felt deep pity for him, for why else save his letters all this time? Doubtless, too, he thought, she believed all his years in Egypt had tragically come to nothing. He smiled, knowing tonight all of this would change. �ś I’m satisfied,” he said, taking her hand. �śI think its time we go back and see to yours guests.” * * * It was nine o’clock that evening when Edith finally replaced the gold disk into the small, felt-lined case. Seated behind the oak desk of her study, she appeared shaken as she pushed the disk across to David. Stunned was perhaps a better word to describe her frozen features. She swallowed before speaking. �ś Now I understand why you wanted all that time alone in the lab,” she said. �śThis�"this is simply incredible. I assume you ran all the tests? Put it under x-ray fluorescence?” He nodded. �śThe spectrometry shows no trace of modern impurities in the gold. There’s no question the metal is of ancient origin.” �ś And the gold wire holding the stones? Did you check it very carefully under�"” �ś Twice, in fact. Microscopic examination shows only the classic spiral pattern; no detectable longitudinal lines, whatsoever. It was made in the ancient manner by a master craftsman, painstakingly twisting a hammered strip of gold.” �ś Incredible,” she repeated, still staring in wonder at the beautiful enigma. One would have to be blind not to accept the authenticity of the piece, she thought, but did this make David’s assumption right? Was it actually possible this came from the fabled sarcophagus of Alexander the Great? The whole idea was almost too astonishing to contemplate. Yet she could rationalize no other reason for this artifact to even exist. Now she looked from Elizabeth to David, for no less amazing to her was the story of its discovery. �śAnd you’re telling me this lay unknown and untouched in Jacob’s house all these years? Is this even possible?” �ś Apparently so,” he said. �śWe think there’s only one explanation that makes any sense. Norman Wakelin, Lionel’s old friend, brought the trunk back from Alexandria and delivered it to Elizabeth’s father. Jacob must’ve simply placed it up in the attic and forgot all about it.” �ś And neither of them thought to open it? Quite astounding.” David could readily understand her skepticism. But all the pieces fit too perfectly for it to be otherwise. Aloud, he said, �śIt’s not really this illogical. Norman probably never gave it a thought�"a small favor done for an old friend, nothing more. As for Jacob, well, I think Elizabeth has pretty much explained what his attitude was towards his father.” Edith needing no reminder. �śI suppose we should be grateful he even stored it all,” she said, �śand not tossed it into the sea. So I take it then you’re both now convinced Lionel’s death was no accident?” It was Elizabeth who answered. �ś I admit, it’s still difficult for me to accept,” she said, �śbut the evidence is hard to ignore. I’ve read the translation of the police report. Even if you discount the suspicions of the police about the fall as being purely speculative, there’s still the question of my grandfather signing the register using a fictitious name. Unless he felt threatened, or was hiding from someone, why do this?” �ś Why, indeed?” mused Edith. �śAll in all, it does look pretty bad.” �ś In more ways than one,” added David grimly. �śIf Lionel was murdered, then there’s the real probability his discovery is now lost forever.” Edith frowned, suddenly recognizing the enormity of this conclusion. �śYou’re quite right, of course. I hadn’t thought of that aspect. Damn if it only compounds the tragedy! But the logic is inescapable, isn’t it? If we accept the premise that Lionel was murdered because he made a brilliant find, then we also have to assume that whoever killed him came into possession of it�"or, at the very least, learned its location. Either way, the end result would be the same.” Elizabeth leaned forward in her chair. �ś Whoa, slow down!” she said, looking alternately from one to the other. �śI don’t understand. What �Śend result’ are you talking about? This all happened over sixty years ago. If the location of Alexander’s coffin was known, then surely the whole world would know of it by now. What would anyone�"even a murderer�"hope to gain by simply sitting on it?” �ś Absolutely nothing,” said David. �śAnd that’s the point. Remember, we’re talking about someone willing to kill in order to get the treasure�"and treasure would’ve been all he wanted. If gold was involved�"and this disk says there was�"then there’s only one way for him to profit. The sarcophagus would almost certainly be smashed to pieces, the gold melted down for easy handling and disposal. The historical value of the find would mean nothing to him. And the actual body, itself? I imagine it would’ve been tossed away.” �ś Are you serious?” �ś There’s no point in our getting into this under false illusions. The systematic looting of ancient sights and tombs has been a way of life in Egypt since the time of the pharaohs. If anything, it may even be more widespread than ever. And not just in Egypt, either. Artifacts are being plundered around the entire Mediterranean every day.” David knew the ugly realities of modern archaeology first-hand. In Greece alone, the number of sites looted before any responsible authority got to the scene was beyond counting, the damage usually irreparable. Many plundered sites were never found, their existence only hinted at when artifacts filtered onto the lucrative black-market. However, exceptions to the rule often did take place. Sometimes, archaeologists were lucky enough to actually break through the wall of silence. It was always a dangerous game, to be sure, and one never undertaken lightly. He, himself, accomplished it four or five times in the past several years. His contacts inside this illegal trade weren’t many, but those he did have were fairly well placed. He saw the dejected look on Elizabeth’s face. What he’d given her was a new and unpleasant perspective, but it was still no reason to abandon all hope. �śWhat I painted was the worst possible scenario,” he now told her, �śbut it’s not the only one. Not by a long shot. At this point, nothing is beyond the realm of possibility.” She nodded in appreciation. �ś Which brings us back to square one,” he said, turning again to Edith. �śIf we’re going to have any success retracing Lionel’s tracks in Egypt, we’ll need every bit of available information. Is there anything more you can think of?” �ś I’m really sorry,” she said. �śWhat you already have in your notebook is all there is, David.” She gestured towards the disk. �śIn light of this, I only wish I had something more to offer . . .” �ś Then we’ll just have to concentrate on Burkhart’s Tell El Amarna records and hope for the best.” As they stood, it came to Edith that perhaps there was something more she could contribute. �śYou know, the longer I think on it, David, the more convinced I become you two should seek out the help of a very old and dear friend of mine in Cairo. I’m referring to Dr. Lewis Gobeir. From a purely practical point of view, who better to assist in your investigation? If you’re both so determined to undertake this, then why not enlist the finest available mind to assist you?” He saw the wisdom of this. Though he’d yet to discuss it with Elizabeth, it was inevitable that others must eventually be taken into their confidence. And who better than Dr. Gobeir? He knew the reputation, if not the man�"and his credentials were impeccable. A decade younger than Edith, he was the retired Director of Antiquities at the famed Cairo Museum�"and a veritable legend in the field of Egyptology. He glanced at Elizabeth, noting the tired lines about her eyes. She was obviously exhausted, their flight to Cairo still yet ahead of them. �ś What’s your thoughts on this?” he asked her. �śUnderstand, we’ll have to tell him everything, hold nothing back. His knowledge and expertise could prove invaluable.” �ś If you believe he’s someone we need, I’m all for it.” Pleased, Edith stood. �śThen it’s settled. And you won’t regret it, either. There’s no one I can recommend more.” * * * Hours later, Edith sat alone in her bedroom, absently fingering the chained, silver locket at her breast, the one adornment she’d worn faithfully for over sixty years. Deep in thought, she scarcely heard the faint chimes of the antique clock announcing the arrival of midnight. The only evidence of her growing unease was a small, crystal glass of sherry on the end table by her chair. She very seldom drank alone. Almost never. Guilt? she wondered. Was this what she felt? If so, then it was irrational and unfounded. True, she may not have been completely forthcoming with David about Lionel; but, then again, she reasoned, she never exactly lied to him, either. There was a difference. Surely the disclosure of an affair of the heart�"a passion long buried in time�"would serve no possible purpose to his investigation. That it even occurred at all was totally irrelevant. No, she concluded, she did the right thing. Some memories were far too personal, too deeply private, to share with anyone. Not even with David, whom she dearly loved as her own son. A faint and unfamiliar noise now pricked her ear. Curious as to what this might be, she leaned forward in her chair, listening for any repetition. Nothing. Was she imagining things? No! There it was again! A short, grating sound like the muffled scrape of wood against wood . . . Knowing herself to be completely alone in the house, she picked up her cane and walked out through the darkened parlor to the front entrance. But there was nothing amiss; the outside door remained latched and bolted, just as she’d left it. Satisfied, she glanced down the length of the hallway towards her study. Was she now seeing things, as well? For the briefest instant there appeared to be a tiny flash of light emanating from beneath the door. Perplexed, she went to investigate this mystery. Edith was several steps into the moonlit room before she realized cool, night air was inexplicably caressing her face. What the�"! The sliding glass doors were ajar! But how could this be? They were always kept closed and locked, never used as an entrance. And there was more. The top drawer of her desk was pulled half open. A burglary? What could anyone hope to�" Suddenly conscious of an unseen presence, she spun around as the study door was closed from the inside. A tall figure moved out of the shadows and came towards her�"and she gasped upon seeing his face. It was a face so familiar, yet one now so cold in its aspect as to actually frighten her. �ś You�"?” Sal Oristano held her with his intense eyes, his features uncharacteristically grave as he stood before her. His gaze was chilling, unnatural; and when he spoke, she felt the hairs prickling along the back of her neck. �ś You really do disappoint me, dear lady,” he said in a soft tone. �śI was sure a woman of your advanced years would be long asleep at this hour. Such a pity.” Edith moved her head in utter bewilderment. This was definitely not the Oristano she’d known these many years. This man was a stranger; someone whose presence here defied all reason. Her eyes darted again to her open drawer. This was obviously his doing. But why? �ś I don’t understand,” she managed. �śWhat could you possibly want from here?” �ś Only retrieving what’s mine,” he said. He opened his gloved hand, showing her a small, metallic device; which he then dropped it into his jacket pocket. �śMarvelous inventions, these. It’s really quite amazing how they pick up the least little sound, not to mention the most intimate of conversations.” �ś You listened in on�"?” �ś Everything, dear lady. How very opportune my being here today, wouldn’t you say? These quaint gatherings of yours often prove very worthwhile, indeed.” He took a step closer, his slanted smile anything but reassuring. �śOne sometimes acquires the most interesting information�"the value of which, I might add, you can scarcely begin to imagine.” Edith stared back at him in a kind of hypnotized horror. Yet her brain continued to function, her analytical mind still acute. She recalled he was standing beside Nick Travlos when she mentioned an evening meeting with David and Elizabeth. Doubtless, this explained why Oristano left so early. How easy it would be for him to slip unnoticed into her study and plant the bug in her desk, then unlatch the sliding, glass doors for its later retrieval. But knowing how he accomplished this gave her no explanation of his motive. The purposeful look on his face was now unmistakable. �ś Is�"is it your intention to kill me?” she asked, knowing the answer. Surprising to herself, she felt more anger than fear. She took a step backwards, only to find herself blocked by the desk. Now she saw a pen shaped object in his hand, harmless in appearance, but something she intuitively sensed as deadly. Clasping the front of her flowered dress, he raised the sealed, metal cartridge to her face. �ś No, Sal! You can’t! Murder is�"” �ś Oh, not murder,” he said. �śNatural causes. You’ll appear to have succumbed to sudden cardiac arrest. And your passing will be quite instantaneous, I assure you. No pain, whatsoever.” Perhaps it was the appearance of grim resignation he saw in Edith’s eyes that momentarily deceived Oristano, for her seeming submission gave no warning of the explosive ferocity she suddenly demonstrated in defense of her life. Jerking free of his hand with an agility born of pure desperation, she whipped the handle of her cane wickedly across his temple. Staggered by the unexpected blow, he let the cartridge slip from his hand and roll across the floor. Cursing in rage, he scrambled after it as she bolted for the door. She got through it, but very little beyond. He overtook her in the hall, roughly forcing her down onto her back. A cold fury burned in his eyes as he straddled her with his knees. Helpless, laboring for each breath, she could only stare up at him as he thrust the metal cylinder into her face. Edith barely heard the single click of the trigger propelling the small burst of hydrogen cyanide gas deep into her gasping lungs�"and her last conscious thought was that Oristano had lied to her even in this, for the crushing pain in her chest was pure agony. CHAPTER FIVE It was late morning of the following day when Oristano boarded his yacht, Medea, anchored outside the narrow entrance of Rhodes’ ancient Madraki Harbor. He’d taken the first available flight out of Salonika’s Mikra Airport to Athens, there catching a smaller Olympic plane to the easternmost big island of modern Greece. And when the medieval bell tower of Fort St. Nicholas pealed the noon hour across the sun-drenched harbor, he was already relaxing inside his spacious stateroom. The Medea was a fast motor yacht built to Oristano’s exact specifications by Chiavari Shipyards in his native Italy. Combining speed with the luxury he demanded, the sleek ship’s twin diesel engines produced an admirable capability of 27 knots in smooth seas. As an added feature in the design, the incorporation of expanded fuel tanks extended her refueling range from 500 to 800 nautical miles. Standing behind his glass-topped wet bar, he poured a double shot of vodka, taking a quick swallow before adding crushed ice. It was early for a drink, but he hoped to deaden the nagging throb at his temple. A glance at the bar mirror assured him the bruise was scarcely noticeable, the worst of it concealed beneath the length of his dark hair. Another day or two, he estimated, and the result of his unplanned encounter with Edith Whiteley would vanish completely. Not that he was overly concerned. He’d been extremely careful. And even if there was a perfunctory investigation into the old woman’s death�"something he seriously doubted�"there was no way in hell he could be implicated. Satisfied, he now focused on more important matters. Taking a second sip from his glass, he looked over at the formidable figure waiting patiently in a leather armchair. �śAnything for you, my friend?” As expected, the big man only shook his head. Oristano stepped around from the bar and dropped into a matching chair. In all his long association with Sabir Heikal, he never once saw the powerfully built Egyptian ever take anything stronger than coffee. Nor did he have first-hand knowledge he ever indulged himself in any other of the more routinely accepted vices. As curious as this was, it was a character trait Oristano much appreciated. For him, it demonstrated Heikal’s unique consistency, a man who lived a cold and purposeful existence, having no interest in the frivolous pursuits of those less disciplined. Considerably taller and darker than most of his countrymen�"possibly the latent heritage of a Sudanese ancestor�"Heikal was of indeterminate age, passing for anywhere between forty-five and sixty. His thick, jet-black hair was cut habitually short, the hard and unyielding features endowing him with a menacing aspect that was often disquieting to even the most casual observer. His widely spaced eyes, flat and slate-colored, only enhanced the allusion to an avid and predatory animal�"one who Oristano knew had killed his first man before the age of fourteen. Most importantly, Heikal never failed his employer’s high expectations. He could aptly be described as an emotionless weapon of extraordinary ferocity, yet his loyalty was total and unquestioned�"which made him a valuable asset, indeed. Oristano deposited what remained of his drink on the mahogany coffee table. His hurried call to Geneva had reached the big man only six hours earlier. Fortunately, Heikal was able to conclude his business a day sooner than scheduled. �śI’m sorry about this sudden change in plans, Sabir,” he said. �śHowever, it was quite unavoidable. I trust all went well with our Herr Dorfmann?” �ś It was inconvenient for him,” the Egyptian replied, �śbut he was accommodating.” The lack of expression on his face attested the transaction was nothing more than routine. �śHis eighty thousand deutsche marks went into your Swiss account this morning. You’ll receive the confirming paperwork through regular channels.” �ś Excellent. And how did he take the news?” �ś Disappointed, naturally, but he understands the circumstances. He was warned months ago that it was only a matter of time before the supply of Sinai artifacts would be cut off. Too bad, really. Right now I’m sure he’d gladly pay double for a match to that small Rameses gold pendant.” Oristano reached for his cigarettes. His decision to back away from the Sinai operation was regrettable from a business standpoint, for the smuggled artifacts from this particular site were highly marketable, the profits enormous. But the risk factors had simply become too great. �ś Be that as it may, Sabir, we did very well for ourselves�"far better, in fact, than I originally hoped. We should be grateful the Bedouin dug out as much as they did before the Egyptian authorities caught on.” �ś Perhaps, but I still believe there was much more to be had. If you allowed, I could’ve easily cured their womanish fears.” Oristano tossed an indulgent shrug, confident he’d made the right decision. His years of experience in these matters had long since taught him when it was time to break clean and cut his losses. There was always a point when risks began outweighing potential gains. �śYou’re wrong,” he said bluntly. �śAnd I’ll tell you why. The Bedouin have notoriously long memories, and your solution to their �Śwomanish fears’ would only be self-defeating. Can you seriously imagine them ever coming back to us if you worked over some of their comrades with that famous knife of yours? Not hardly. They’re a damn greedy bunch, I realize, but hardly stupid!” Heikal now appeared willing�"albeit grudgingly�"to concede the point. �śYou mentioned an urgent matter,” he said, changing the subject. �śYou onto something new?” The smile on Oristano’s face deepened. �śI believe so. Maybe something bigger that we ever dreamed.” As concisely as possible, he gave Heikal all the pertinent details of Manning’s extraordinary find, omitting his own unintentional confrontation with Dr. Whiteley. The latter wasn’t information the Egyptian needed. When finished, he handed over a newspaper clipping, adding, �śThe occasion was a retirement banquet some months ago. Manning’s standing on her left. Remember the face. I have nothing on the young woman. She’s American�"long hair, attractive, late twenties�"and needless to say, they’ll be traveling together.” Heikal studied the picture in silence, his expression unchanged. Watching him, Oristano considered the man’s composure to be nothing less than amazing. Heikal was no scholar, certainly, but neither was he without imagination. Surely, he appreciated the enormous value of any artifact that could be linked directly to Alexander the Great. But the actual sarcophagus? Who could even begin to put a market value on such a fantastic find? Heikal folded the clipping. �śYou say they’re in Egypt now?” �ś Flew into Cairo overnight. We’ll have to assume he’ll set up a meeting with this Gobeir fellow right away. He may even have done so already. So how soon can you get there?” �ś Not soon enough. Depends on what flight connections I can make. If you wish, I’ll put Hassan on their tail immediately. He can keep close tabs on them until I arrive.” Oristano considered the merits of this. Although they’d used Hassan many times over the past several years, there was something about the little man that never set quite right with him. �śAnyone else we can use?” �ś At the moment, no. He’s the best I have in Cairo.” �ś Okay. Time is of the essence here. He can find them at the El Gezirah Sheraton. And while you’re at it, have him book you a room at Shepheards. I want you close�"but not too close, understand? Manning’s never to lay eyes on you.” �ś Hassan will want to know what this is about.” �ś Not on this one, my friend. He gets nothing. Make it straight surveillance work for whatever reasons you think he’ll buy. I’ll leave that up to you. Just make damn sure there are no foul-ups. I want to know Manning’s every move. Whatever he learns�"we learn. Everything!” �ś Consider it done.” Oristano downed the last of his drink. �śI’ll be leaving Rhodes within the hour,” he said. �śIf the weather report holds, the Medea should reach Alexandria by early tomorrow evening. I expect a report within the next thirty-six hours.” �ś How do you want to be reached?” �ś Let’s not take any unnecessary chances. I’ll station someone at the public phone in Anfushi Park. When you have something, leave a message with him and I’ll call you back. You still have the number?” Heikal nodded, pushing himself to his feet. �ś Just remember one thing,” cautioned Oristano. �śThis Manning is no fool. He’s clever, this one. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him. There’s far too much at stake here.” �ś I’ll keep that in mind.” As the big man left the stateroom, Oristano depressed the button on his intercom to the flying bridge. �śAri?” �ś Yes sir?” �ś Have Pauley run Mr. Heikal ashore immediately. You can take us out as soon as he returns.” �ś Very good, sir. And what about the girl?” Truthfully, he forgot she was even on board. Recruited before his arrival, he’d yet to lay eyes on her. But he trusted his captain’s judgment. Ari knew his taste in women. �ś Is she a local?” �ś No, sir. Athens. Her name is Angela, by the way.” �ś Well, tell her where we’re going. If she’s willing, make certain she’s got a valid passport. I don’t want any problems with the Alexandrian port authorities. If she checks out, send her in. Give me about twenty minutes.” He released the intercom. All things considered, everything seemed to be going his way. He let the shower run as hot as his skin could stand, inhaling the billowing steam deep into his lungs. The combination of straight vodka and the pelting spray helped clear the last residue of pain from his temple. Had he cautioned Heikal adequately? He wondered about it. Like all men of his kind, the big Egyptian sometimes underestimated the capabilities and perception of others. Manning had the potential of being a formidable adversary. Still and all, he was certainly no Heikal. Few people were, he thought, putting his arms into a fresh robe. The big man was in a league of his own. The girl was waiting for him. She sat naked on the bed, her slim legs crossed, a seductive smile on her pretty face. The pose was obvious, practiced, but not without a certain charm. The scant two pieces of fabric making up her swimsuit lay on the carpet. Ari hadn’t failed him. But then, how could he? Attractive and experienced women of her type roamed every port on the Mediterranean. Besides being pretty, his only criterion was they be young. Without speaking, he placed himself directly in front of her and looked into her uplifted eyes. So large, so enticing, he thought, and so completely devoid of innocence. It would be expecting too much, he knew, to find intelligence there, as well. He’d long since accepted the fact that the women�"girls, really�"who provided him the greatest sexual satisfaction were usually as boring as hell once out of bed. It was the price he paid for their youth and sexual athletics. This was unfortunate, but invariably true. He loosened the front of his robe and moved even closer, her coquettish smile only deepening as he put his hand alongside her head, entwining his fingers in the silky mass of her dark hair. Knowing his desire, she artfully wet her lips as he drew her forward. * * * The Assistant Curator of Antiquities, Prof. Omar Bayoumi, beamed with genuine delight as he strode across the tiled floor of the Cairo Museum’s East Gallery. A short, lean man in his mid-fifties, his clipped footsteps echoed in the empty hall as he approached the familiar figure standing alone before one of the many exhibition cases. It was twenty minutes to nine, just ten minutes after opening. As a general rule, this particular gallery was among the very last to be filled by touring visitors. Bayoumi eagerly extended his arm. �ś Welcome back to Cairo,” he said, shaking David’s hand vigorously. �śI can’t tell you how pleased I was when you called this morning. I’d no idea you were here in Egypt. It’s been far too long, my friend.” �ś Over three years, Omar. Good to see you again. I appreciate your giving me a few minutes of your valuable time.” Bayoumi appeared instantly offended. �ś For you? ” he exclaimed. �śWhy, I am ever at your disposal! The museum is greatly indebted to you, sir.” He tapped the thick glass of the exhibition case with his knuckle. �śI see you’ve been admiring your falcon. I do hope you approve the prominent position we’ve given it. As you see, it is the focal point of the entire display.” The reason for his deep gratitude lay beneath the protective glass. It was an extremely rare twelfth century lusterware bowl from the early Fatimid dynasty. Patterned into its rich, ochre glaze was a stylized hunting falcon of great beauty. Some three years earlier David was instrumental in acquiring it for the museum. Without his active involvement, the bowl would’ve been lost to a private European collector. Alerted to the rumor of a unique find made within Cairo itself, David had used the grudging influence of his most reliable contact in the black-market to arrange a clandestine meeting with one of the smugglers. Fortunately, the museum’s cash offer was sufficient to entice the man into betraying his comrades in favor of a separate deal. Bayoumi now led him up the worn marble stairway to his second floor office. Lacking air-conditioning, David found the cramped quarters already stuffy with the morning heat. The sluggish, overhead fan offered no real solution to the problem; if anything, the slow moving blades did little more than stir loose paperwork on the overburdened desk. �ś You chose the worst possible time to visit Cairo,” he said, directing David to a chair. �śThe heat is positively crippling this summer.” He wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief, momentarily erasing the line of sweat seeping down from his wiry, black hair. �śNow somewhere I have that information you�"Ah, here it is�"Dr. Gobeir’s address.” He handed the sheet over before sitting down. �śHis phone number is there, as well. You should have no problem. And please be sure to give him my deepest regards, for I’ve not laid eyes on the dear fellow since his recent retirement.” A glance at the paper said Gobeir’s residence was in Heliopolis. It was one of Cairo’s most exclusive suburbs, an area of wide boulevards and spacious villas. He slipped the address into his shirt pocket, noting how Bayoumi was watching him with a curious expression. �ś So tell me, David. What’s the real reason you wish to see me? I can only assume there must be more than this.” �ś Was I so obvious?” A broad smile split Bayoumi’s face. �śNo, just a lucky guess. We both know I could’ve given you this information over the phone. Now how else may I be of service to you?” David knew Bayoumi was as honest as they came. It was no secret he worked his way up the hard way, struggling out of Egypt’s worst poverty to make it where he was today. For this alone he had David’s respect. Thus he came directly to point. �śI need your help, Omar. I want to set up a meeting with Sharif Khafaghi�"and I haven’t the faintest idea how to reach him. Things are not what they once were.” The Assistant Curator arched an eyebrow, clearly surprised. He’d always known what a great many of his colleagues at the museum only speculated about; it was Sharif Khafaghi who was the intermediary between David and the smuggler three years ago. What it must’ve cost his friend for the old scoundrel’s service was something he often wondered about, but never asked. But he did, however, recognize David’s present predicament, for getting a message to Khafaghi through a reliable contact was no longer so simple a matter as in years past. �ś I’m not sure I can guide you in this matter,” he said finally. �śLike many, I keep my ear to the streets, but what I hear is that Sharif has been very ill for many months, possibly even dying. And perhaps the rumors are true. Truly, he must be as old as the pyramids by now.” �ś At least,” David agreed with a smile. He couldn’t say as much, but this was precisely why he needed to talk with him. Bayoumi pursed his lips, considering the problem. Waiting, David lit a cigarette, listening to the muted traffic noises filtering up through the high casement windows facing Tahrir Square. Here was the never-ending heartbeat of Cairo. A dull roar throughout most of the night, it only worsened at sunrise, never letting up for the rest of the day. Last evening during their long drive in from the airport, he promised Elizabeth that he wouldn’t waken her before ten o’clock. Now he wondered if she managed to get any sleep at all. Bayoumi expelled a faint sigh; then said, �śI can think of only one avenue you might try. No guarantees, mind you, but it’s what I’d do if�"Allah forbid!�"I ever had occasion to contact Sharif. There’s a talented young coppersmith by the name of Zahir who has a shop on the Shari Al Mu’izz, close to Old City’s al-Hakim mosque. I’m not certain, but rumors hint he has some sort of connection to the Khafaghi family. Give him your message along with a five-pound note.” He lifted his shoulders. �śAt worst, he’ll keep the money and forget he ever saw you.” * * * The intense heat outside the museum hit David like the hot breath of a blast furnace. In just the past hour the traffic had easily doubled, the temperature already climbing into the low nineties with noon still two hours away. Catching a taxi was no problem. A long line was busily discharging throngs of passengers at the main gate. He flagged down the first empty one and gave his destination. Despite the driver’s skill, the relatively short distance back to the southern tip of Gezirah Island took a full twenty minutes to accomplish. Half of this alone was spent just crossing west on Tahrir bridge, for a phalanx of cars, trucks, and battered buses�"all seemingly with unmuffled engines�"now jammed the streets leading in and out of the city center. It was Cairo traffic at its worst. Acrid fumes mingled with the ever-present dust off the desert to create a dull, yellow haze encasing everything as far as the eye could see. What pavement remained visible beneath the packed mass of vehicles and teeming humanity literally shimmered in the fierce heat. Adding to the turmoil, the piercing sound of Arab music blared from inside storefronts and countless car radios. His meeting with Bayoumi had taken longer than anticipated. With any luck, however, Elizabeth was still asleep, unaware he even left the hotel. There were valid reasons not to involve her. Despite Edith’s conviction to the contrary, he needed something more substantial to be convinced. If Lionel ever dealt with the Cairo black-market back in the fifties, then Sharif Khafaghi would almost certainly know of it. If he got nothing else from the old man, he’d at least get that much out of him. He need only mention Lionel’s name. Any reaction at all, even the slightest flicker of recognition, would tell the tale. For Elizabeth’s sake, he hoped no connection existed. But unless her grandfather’s activities over the last few months of his life were revealed, they had next to no chance of ever learning the source of the gold disk. He paid his driver outside the main entrance of the El Gezirah Sheraton. It was considerably cooler inside, though he suspected the hotel’s air-conditioning system would soon be fighting a loosing battle. He pressed for the eleventh floor at the Tower Service elevator. Their first priority, he knew, must be Dr. Gobier. Any attempt to contact Sharif would have to wait on the back burner. At least for the moment. A uniformed waiter was exiting Elizabeth’s room as he approached her door, and he slipped inside. Parked beside her bed was a service cart bearing toast, fresh fruit, and a pot of coffee. He poured a cup, adding a splash of cream the way she liked it. She stood barefoot on the sun-drenched balcony, staring out at the apparent mayhem below. She was wrapped in a thin robe, her hair still damp from the shower. Hanging straight off her shoulders, it shone like polished bronze in the morning light�"and when she turned to him the excitement in her eyes was of a young girl completely overawed by something unexpected and wondrous. �ś Oh, David,” she exclaimed, �śI can hardly believe it! Cairo is�"well it’s just everything I ever dreamed it would be!” Her obvious delight was infectious. He grinned as he handed her the cup, thinking maybe this apparent sense of adventure was exactly what she needed in her life. And maybe subconsciously sought since the day he first met her? True or not, he loved what he saw happening to her. �ś Welcome to Egypt, Elizabeth.” * * * David found himself liking Dr. Gobeir almost immediately. It was after one o’clock when he and Elizabeth arrived in the suburb of Heliopolis. Now, two hours later and seated around a patio table in the privacy of Gobeir’s shaded garden, he felt increasingly confident that Edith had steered them to the right man. It would be difficult for anyone, he imagined, not to be impressed by the elderly scholar. He was a square-shouldered man of medium height and amiable disposition. Completely bald save for a narrow fringe of silver above his ears, he seemed surprisingly robust for someone in his late seventies. Modern Egyptians traced their ancestry from a wide variety of racial pools, but it appeared a fair bet a disproportionate number of his forefathers were probably of the fellahin , the original inhabitants of the Nile valley. Though his present physique was more portly than lean, the extra pounds he carried were suspiciously concentrated around his middle; likely as not, David reasoned, acquired through the inactivity of retirement. Like many well-educated Egyptians, Gobeir’s accent was noticeably British in flavor, in his case doubtless attained along with his many degrees at Wadham College in Oxford. They initially sat alone with the old gentleman; but when his long-time personal assistant, Ahmed Rashidi, joined them for a late lunch, Gobeir asked to have the entire story of the disk repeated for the younger man’s benefit. Recognizing the very close and confidential working relationship existing between the two men, David saw no reason not to comply. A trim and pleasant-featured man in his late twenties, Rashidi was considerably darker than Gobeir, his jet-black hair straight and conservatively cut. As much a son to his mentor as a devoted assistant, he was, in Gobeir’s biased judgment, the ablest researcher in all of Cairo�"and thus the one best qualified to ferret out Burkhart’s records from the Egyptian Museum. The retelling of their find seemed to enthrall Gobeir all over again. Listening closely, he only occasionally lifted his eyes from the gold disk�"and then merely to satisfy himself that his assistant understood the stunning implication of this discovery. Being a learned historian in his own right, Rashidi’s amazed expression spoke for itself. If anything, it appeared to leave him speechless. �ś And to think,” said Gobeir, �śI recently remarked to Ahmed how dull things had become over the past few years. And now this! I can’t begin to tell you how pleased and flattered I am Edith suggested my name. You’ve made an old man extremely happy, I assure you.” �ś Then I take it you’ll help us?” Gobeir’s eyes widened in surprise. �śHelp you, David? Why, we’ll do everything we possibly can! How could you even think otherwise?” �ś We weren’t sure if you would be willing to invest all the time and energy this might require,” said Elizabeth. �ś Believe me, my dear, time is all I have anymore. And damn few responsibilities. I think I speak for both of us when I say how excited we are at being involved in such a fascinating undertaking. Am I right, Ahmed?” �ś Indeed, yes,” replied the younger man; then turned abruptly to David. �śAs to Burkhart’s records from Tell El Amarna, however, I can well appreciate the need for identifying anyone who knew or worked with Mr. DeCaylus, but surely it’s not your contention this artifact actually came from that dig? I mean, the site of that short-lived city was totally abandoned well over thirty-three centuries ago. That’s roughly a thousand years before Alexander was even born. For this to have been unearthed there would be�"” �ś An anachronism of the first order, I agree. Not unlike finding a car battery beneath the ruins of a Mayan temple. But even still, it has to be our starting point. In the last weeks or days before Lionel died, he must’ve found something that eventually led him to this disk. Now whether or not this �Śsomething’ came out of Tell El Amarna, I haven’t the foggiest. It’s all pure speculation at this point, right?” Gobeir stroked his chin, pursing his lips. �ś Which definitely makes locating Burkhart’s records of paramount importance,” he then said. �śI only hope we don’t disappoint your expectations. I hate to say it, but the undertaking might prove a tad more difficult than you imagine.” �ś You foresee problems?” �ś Well, I guess it remains to be seen. You must know, the accumulated documents now stored in the Egyptian Museum runs literally into the tens-of-thousands; everything from site identifications, excavation permits, historical evaluation studies, private journals, diaries�"and, unfortunately, this vast collection has been woefully neglected. In all candor, it’s only been in the last few years we’ve received adequate funding to properly confront the situation.” Rashidi cut in, trying to clarify all this. �ś Please don’t misunderstand, Professor,” he said. �śThere’s no doubt all of the records we seek�"whether they be copies or originals�"must still be there. It’s just that it could conceivably take a few days for me to locate them.” Not exactly what David wished to hear. Yet it would have to suffice. In truth, he was grateful Rashidi was willing to accept what could be a very daunting task. Aloud, he said, �śThen we’ll just have to live with however long it takes. It may be a blind end anyway, considering all the years that have gone by. As far as tracking down any of his fellow workers from the site�"” He lifted his shoulders and shook his head. �śNames by themselves won’t do much good if none are still alive.” Gobeir saw his point. �ś I’m afraid you’ve put your finger on the crux of it, David. It’s been a bloody long time. I’ve been sitting here wondering if any of my older colleagues might’ve worked that site in the fifties. A few possibles do come to mind, but no one who is still with us, I’m sorry to say.” He paused. �śBut there’s another aspect to those records that may still be of enormous help. It would all depend, of course, on just how encompassing they are.” �ś In what way?” �ś Well, it’s not like Burkhart was a complete unknown. His reputation was still solid at the time. And he definitely had the funding. Thus it’s very possible�"even probable�"many university students from right here in Cairo would’ve offered their services simply for the experience. That would put them at my age, give or take. Much better odds of finding some still alive. The question is, however, will those records list non-payroll volunteers? It’s standard practice now, as you know, but it wasn’t always the rule.” He paused, his face thoughtful. �śI assume you both know how short-lived that excavation actually was. It stayed open for just two seasons, I think, before Burkhart’s permit was pulled. Mind you, I do believe he was a good man, just not competent enough to run such an ambitious undertaking. Rumors quickly abounded of stealing, mismanagement�"you name it. He was in over his head, no question. The authorities really had no choice but to shut him down.” After a period of silence, Elizabeth asked, �śAnd the name, Lionel DeCaylus? It’s not one you ever remember hearing? No recollection in any context, whatsoever?” Gobeir moved his head sympathetically. �ś No, my dear. I wish it were otherwise.” He looked again at the faded photo lying beside the gold disk, a wistful smile visible on his face. �śYou know, it now strikes me that if I wasn’t off furthering my education in England, I might very well have been one of those volunteers. Rather ironic, don’t you think? A twist of fate may have kept me from working alongside your grandfather, a man who it appears just might very well have gone on to discover the fabled coffin of Alexander the Great. Quite astounding!” David and Elizabeth glanced at each other, both aware this was the first real indication from Gobeir that he actually accepted their theory of the disk’s origin. Until this moment, the old scholar had avoided committing himself one way or another. �ś So what’s your gut opinion on this?” David asked. �śThink this is anything more than a wild dream?” Gobeir hesitated before answering, but only briefly. Lifting his eyes to David, he said in a firm voice, �śI have no doubts, whatsoever, that this came from his sarcophagus. What other logical conclusion can be drawn?” He now flashed a toothy grin. �śI learned a long time ago, old boy, that here in Egypt almost anything is possible!” CHAPTER SIX It was well after nightfall when Heikal entered the quiet lounge adjoining the Sheraton’s open-air restaurant. The spacious room was only moderately filled; Arab businessmen mostly, very few Europeans. Late August wasn’t Cairo’s season for foreign tourists. His eyes swept the room, finally settling on an unobtrusive figure in a rumpled, brown suit sitting alone at the far end of the bar. The man was nursing a drink, a twist of smoke curling up from the cigarette parked in his ashtray. Of average height and build, he appeared quite capable of blending into almost any background. Even his features seemed nondescript, a physical anonymity bestowed upon him by nature and one he practiced to perfection. Hassan’s expression gave no hint of recognition as Heikal took the barstool beside him. He butted out his cigarette, saying, �śI expected you sooner, Sabir.” �śMy flight was delayed,” the big man answered, waving off the approaching bartender with a curt gesture of his hand. �śSo then, tell me what you have so far.” Hassan inclined his head towards the outside restaurant. �śThey just sat down to eat a few minutes ago. They’ve got two tower suites, both on the eleventh floor.” �śWhat about transportation?” �śHe’d already rented a green Renault through the hotel before I got here. It’s in the lot over there to the left.” �śWhen did you pick them up?” �śNot until about three-thirty. I came straight over when you called, but they’d already gone somewhere. I waited in the lobby until they got back. Twenty minutes later and they were off again, me on their tail.” �śNo idea where they might’ve been this morning?” �śHow could I?” Heikal nodded, thinking Hassan had actually done very well under the hurried circumstances. Doubtless Manning spent those hours with Dr. Gobier. He briefly considered showing Hassan the newspaper clipping for positive identification, but instead said, �śSo where are they seated?” �śPoolside. The waiter’s only now taking their order. I suspect they’ll be here for quite a while.” Heikal turned on his stool and looked out through the tinted glass doors. The man’s back was towards him, but his face was visible in profile as he spoke with the waiter. No question, it was Manning. He then concentrated on the woman, thinking Oristano’s brief description didn’t do her justice. She was more than merely attractive. And, too, there was something quite striking about the color of her hair. �śWhere exactly did they go this afternoon?” he asked. The smaller man grimaced in disgust. �śDamn tourists! They spent the last six hours dragging my sweating ass through half the stinking bazaars in Old City.” He paused. �śSo when are you going to tell me what all this is about?” Heikal extracted an envelope from his suit. �śYou know all you need to for now. This will more than compensate for your minor discomfort. Stay with them until you’re certain they’ve turned in. Did you make my reservation?” �śYeah.” �śGood. Call me if you see anything the least bit unusual. I’ll want to know. Use my cell number. Don’t waste time with the hotel phone.” Satisfied with the envelope’s weight, Hassan slipped it into his breast pocket. He then risked a leering smile. �śThe woman has little meat on her bones, but is still beautiful, don’t you think? This Manning is most fortunate to�"” �śYour taste in women is of no interest to me,” snapped Heikal. �śYou have your instructions. Bring a car around for me early. No later than five-thirty.” �śWhen have I ever let you down?” After Heikal left, Hassan gulped down the last of his drink and gestured for another. Had the big man detected the growing anxiety behind his calm fa�żade? He fervently hoped not. When his drink arrived, he consumed a full third of it in one long swallow, trying to deaden the knot of fear steadily building in his stomach. But it gave no relief. Nor did the two others he consumed over the next hour. Hassan had seen Manning surreptitiously pass something to Zahir outside the shop on the Shari al-Mu’izz. Now he debated the wisdom of hiding this information. But what choice did I have? he wondered in rising panic. As important as this information might be to Heikal, it could prove infinitely dangerous to himself! The young coppersmith’s ties to the Khafaghi family were known�"and the mere thought of where that might lead scared the living hell out of him. Damn Heikal for involving me in this! Of all the fucking people in the world, why did it have to be David Manning? * * * �ś More coffee for you, sir?” �śHmmm?” David’s thoughts were elsewhere. �śNo, thank you.” The waiter moved on. The temperature had fallen since sunset, the air now pleasantly cool. In the near distance the bright lights of the grand luxury hotels along Corniche Boulevard shone over the heart of the city. Adding to the evening’s charm, a reddish moon floated overhead, its broken reflection dancing across the dark surface of the Nile. It was amazing to him that Elizabeth showed no signs of exhaustion after their long afternoon browsing the colorful bazaars and quaint shops of the Khan el-Khalili. The novelty of the experience still lingered on her face, a glowing residue of something much enjoyed. He smiled just to look at her, something he found himself doing all the time. Was this a tacit admission his feelings for her had grown beyond the bounds of mere physical attraction? Pleasing though he found this sensation to be, it was vaguely disquieting, as well. For him, this was uncharted territory. He knew he was becoming emotionally involved with her in subtle and unanticipated ways�"ways seemingly beyond his conscious ability to manage. �śI really did have a wonderful time,” she said, returning his smile. �śI don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything as much in a long, long time. I’m just sorry it’s over.” Like her, he was reluctant to see it end. �śIt doesn’t have to quite yet. If you think you’re up to it, there’s another view of the city that shouldn’t be missed. The observation deck on Cairo Tower is only a short walk from here. What do you say?” �śSounds perfect.” A few minutes later, David guided her out through the lobby’s revolving doors into the crowded street. Almost immediately they were hailed by an adolescent voice. �śHey, mister! You Professor Manning?” The shouted query came from a gangly teenager at the curb. Looking no more than fifteen, he was seated astride a battered motorbike and dressed in black slacks and white tee shirt. �śI’m Manning. What do you want?” �śMr. Khafaghi says he’ll see you now. You got a car someplace?” David nodded, thinking how the timing couldn’t possibly be worse. �śThen go get it and follow me,” said the youth. Confused by this unexpected exchange, Elizabeth asked, �śWhat’s this all about? Where are we going?” He put himself between her and the kid, thinking there was no tactful way of explaining this. �śI’ve got to go see someone,” he said. �śSomething I set up earlier today. Best you go up to your room. I’ll fill you in as soon as I’m back.” �śNo,” she declared without hesitation. �śWhatever it is, David, I’m going with you. I’m part of this, too.” �śHey, look mister�"what’s it gunna be?” The teenager took the unlit cigarette from his mouth and spit into the street. �śYou coming, or not?” Elizabeth’s determined look offered no real choices. Nor was there time to argue, for this arrogant little punk was obviously prepared to take off without him. Damn! �śOkay,” he told the boy. �śGive us a minute and we’ll be right behind you.” * * * At that very moment, not two miles away in Shepheard’s Hotel, Heikal paced the length of his suite with a restless momentum born of growing frustration. It was only ten minutes after eleven, yet he already felt caged, uneasy with the restrictive confines of his room. Patience was one of the many disciplines he’d long mastered, but the prospect of spending the next six hours here seemed almost intolerable. The cause of his agitation was the American woman. The faint stirrings of his old demon began the instant he laid eyes on her, and now he was paying the price. The reddish color and length of her hair, the structure of her face�"it was all too reminiscent of another, triggering dark urges that should’ve died a long time ago. Now he cursed the tormenting devil that chose this of all nights to resurface. Worse still, experience had taught him there was only one guaranteed way to make the demon recede. Contrary to belief, he wasn’t someone wholly free of self-indulgence and sexual lust. Far from it. He withdrew the thin dagger from the leather sheath strapped to his chest; then idly tested its razor edge against the flat of his thumb. The tempered steel caught the light from his bedside lamp, glinting as he slowly turned it in his hand. Here was the sole instrument of his passion, the only release ever potent enough to satisfy his darkest desires. Periodically, his inner devil demanded to be fed. But to do it right, he knew, took both time and careful planning�"two luxuries denied him at the moment. It would challenge his endurance, but the feeding must wait. The knife was Heikal’s favored weapon, what he used to kill his first man not ten city blocks from this very room. He was a mere child at the time, not yet fourteen, and the bloody incident became the seed from which ultimately evolved the violent creature now so prized by Oristano. Ironically, it might actually have been otherwise had the boy killed twice that day. That he didn’t proved a fateful oversight, a mental torture that came to haunt him for the rest of his life . . . It happened in early spring of 1968. Though hardly more than a boy, Sabir was somewhat fortunate in being tall and physically advanced for his years. It allowed him to secure desperately needed work in a large hotel on the western edge of Ezbekiah Gardens, one catering to foreigners. The management’s policy was to hire only men over sixteen, and only those of respectful manner and pleasing appearance. But due to his exceptional height and muscular build, none thought to question his true age. The long hours were brutal, yet the youngster was uncomplaining, grateful for the small pay. With both parents dead, he was sole provider for himself and his beloved sister, Nayra. Older than he by four years, she was all that remained of his family, and he cherished her as he was never to love another living being. Though already a man in body, he saw her through the eyes of a child, and she was to him as pure and virtuous as he could conceive a woman to be. As fate had it, however, she proved unworthy of his adolescent adoration. It was warm and sultry on the night he returned home earlier than usual from his arduous duties. The small quarters Sabir shared with his sister were in the poorest quarter of the Wasa, the �Śopen land’ of the Ezbekiah Fishmarket. As always, he reached the aged building by way of a narrow alley, there climbing a precarious flight of stairs to their third-floor rooms. As was his habit, he entered quietly so as not to waken her. But to his great shock, he found his sister was anything but alone. Sabir stood motionless outside the arched entrance of her room, staring at the lanky, blond foreigner lying naked in Nayra’s bed�"and it was abundantly clear even to the inexperienced boy that his sister was no unwilling partner in their frenzied act of love-making. Frozen in place, he listened in horror to her unashamed gasps of pleasure, watching as her slim legs encircled the thrusting white buttocks of her lover. Like a bitch mongrel in heat�"like the lowest of whores�"Nayra was joyously giving herself to this foreign dog! Sickened by this vision, the boy could scarcely breathe in his growing rage and terrible shame. And the man was known to him! he realized. Not three hours before, he and several more of his kind had been drinking heavily at the hotel bar. He recalled their crude laughter�"their insufferable arrogance�"and something deep inside him turned icy cold. How many more of these jackals had his sweet Nayra bedded without his knowing? He knew immediately what must be done�"what his honor demanded of him! Pausing only to snatch up an iron knife, he hurriedly retraced his steps down the outside stairway; then concealed himself in the dark alley. His wait was brief. When the man strode past just minutes later, Sabir sprang on him from behind, clamping his hand tightly over his mouth as he dragged him down. Taken by surprise, faint resistance was given as the lethal blade was driven twice into the small of his back. Yet it was not enough for the boy to know the foreign dog was mortally wounded. His vengeance required more. Much more! He needed to see up close the terror in the man’s eyes, wanted to revel in his dying anguish and pain! Rolling him over, he gazed with grim satisfaction into the man’s bloodless face as he repeatedly�"methodically�"worked the blade deep into his bowels. The boy fled Cairo before sunrise. Whatever became of his sister, he never learned. Nor did he ever regret the brutal murder on that long ago night. His only remorse�"if so it could be called�"was in not having cleansed his sullied honor with Nayra’s blood, as well. * * * David gunned the Renault’s accelerator in pursuit of the darting motorbike; half-convinced Khafaghi’s teenage messenger was intentionally trying to lose him. It sure as hell appeared to be the case! It was Thursday evening, the end of Cairo’s work week, and the kid was piloting his machine through the throng of celebrants with reckless abandon. Miraculously, the crowds seemed to part at the last possible instant. Simply keeping the boy within sight was a challenge. Following him with a car was damn near impossible. As David steered sharply out onto the Qasr al-Nil, stalled traffic suddenly loomed in front of him. Swearing under his breath, he slammed on the brake, cutting the car dangerously close to a standing taxi�"then again tramped the gas, threading his way through a seemingly unconcerned mass of pedestrians set upon moving against the red light of an intersection. Elizabeth’s face was pale under the spotty glare of the streetlights, her hand braced against the dash. Certain of imminent collision when he last hit the brake, she’d closed her eyes. Now she no longer saw the bike. �śDid we lose�"?” �śNot yet. He’s up on the right.” He swung around a packed bus; then pulled into the same lane as the speeding motorbike, quickly closing the distance between them. He knew they were moving to the northeast, away from the city center. Thankfully, the traffic was beginning to thin out. For the moment, at least, it appeared they were being led into the heart of Old City. �śDoesn’t look like there’s going to be time for lengthy explanations,” he said, �śso just listen carefully. The man we’re meeting with is Sharif Khafaghi, an old-timer whose family’s been in the illegal artifacts trade since God knows when. He’s not the sort of fellow you’d want living next door, mind you, but in his own peculiar way he’s basically an honorable man. I did some business with him a few years back, so please let me do all the talking.” She gave no response, still staring ahead through the dusty windshield. A good hundred feet in front, the bike abruptly veered to the right. David followed. There was a huge, unlit area off to the left, which he figured had to be Ezbekiah Gardens. �śNeedless to say,” he added, �śSharif isn’t the easiest man to reach.” �ś I can see that!” Her retort forced him to smile, if only briefly. �śJust keep that sense of humor and it should work out fine.” Several minutes later found them southbound on Shari’ al-Qalah, a broad avenue slicing deep into the city’s medieval quarter. It was an older business section of tiny shops, now largely empty of any real traffic. A dozen or so blocks down, the kid cut to the left and raced up an unpaved lane barely wide enough for two cars to pass. It was little more than a dirt alley, lined on both sides with colorless, two-story buildings. Here the young biker finally braked, kicking up a plume of dust beneath one of the few functioning streetlamps. When the car pulled up behind him, he paused only to point at a rough brick structure; then quickly sped off into the night. David shut off his engine and killed the lights, noting there were no other vehicles around. An even narrower alleyway flanked the building, but if a car was parked back there it was well concealed. The foul smell of a nearby sewer was evident as he stepped out to assess the situation. What disturbed him most was the stillness of the place. The silence was far too deep, too complete for his liking. Sharif was known as a cautious man, yet this didn’t seem his style. With Elizabeth along, the smart thing would be to simply leave while there was still time. But it was already too late. The building’s single door swung open, a murky light from within putting a tall figure in silhouette. �śManning?” David nodded. �śCome in. We’ve been waiting for you.” Unshaven and hawk-faced, the man silently scrutinized both of them as he held the door open. The dimly lit interior looked like a warehouse of sorts; holding textiles mostly, by the musty smell of the place. Bound rolls of cotton were stacked randomly along the bare walls. A leggy dog growled menacingly from a corner, but showed no inclination to get up. The man led the way back to yet another door, then rapped before entering. This second room was smaller, marginally cleaner, and apparently meant to serve as an office�"and now David knew that not following his first instincts was a huge mistake. There were two more men inside, and neither of them was Sharif Khafaghi. The oldest was presumably in charge. He sat facing them behind a flimsy, metal desk, studying them through rather thick, round glasses. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling above his head. Behind him was a high window barred against entry from the alley. He was almost certainly one of Sharif’s many sons. With his round face and wide, blunted nose, the resemblance was too strong to be otherwise. If true, then the Khafaghi family had fallen on hard times. Despite the crafty cast of the man’s eyes, he looked little more than a village peasant dressed up in an oversized suit. His companion was considerably younger and potentially the more dangerous. He had the unmistakable look of a brawler stamped on his rough, sullen face. Wearing a dingy, stripped galabia, he was leaning nonchalantly against a side wall, his muscular arms folded across his chest in evident boredom. Now the tall one closed the door and positioned himself so as to effectively block the only exit. Unnerved by this, Elizabeth clung tightly to David’s hand. �śI’m Abdel Khafaghi,” said the seated man, confirming the suspicion. �śSo how may I be of service to you?” �śPerhaps my message was unclear,” David said. �śI requested a meeting with my friend Sharif, not his son.” Abdel showed a thin smile, choosing to ignore this. �śI believe you once transacted some business with my father several years back, correct? And most successfully, as I recall.” He shifted his eyes, pointing a stubby finger at Elizabeth. �śWho is this?” �śNo one that concerns you. There’s really nothing for us to discuss.” Abdel raised an eyebrow, appearing amused by the stupidity of someone unwilling to accept the reality of his situation. Leaning forward, he pulled open his desk drawer and pointedly rested his hand over it. It was meant as a subtle threat, the implication being there was a gun inside. However, this ploy imparted more information than Abdel intended; it said that neither of his henchmen was armed, doubtless both recruited more for show than actual ability. �śI assume you’re not a foolhardy person, Professor. Therefore I see no reason we cannot bargain together like civilized men. Perhaps there is something that you wish to acquire? Be assured, I can be a most reasonable man to do business with.” �śPerhaps so,” replied David, �śbut it doesn’t change anything.” He was aware that the tall one had edged up closer from behind and was now standing slightly to his left. The fellow was either totally inexperienced�"or just plain stupid. �śMy business is with your father, and no other.” Abdel frowned, shaking his head. �śI’m a busy man, and you truly begin to tax my patience. I invested valuable time seeing you tonight. One way or another, I mean to profit from it. I understand you paid handsomely for my father’s influence in that small matter, did you not? I have to wonder if maybe you came prepared to do so again. Please empty your pockets on the desk.” This wasn’t something David felt inclined to do. He slowly released Elizabeth’s hand, estimating the distance between himself and the desk to be less than five feet. The brawler was obviously the strongest, yet the overconfident oaf continued to lean against the wall, perhaps believing David accepted the fact of being outnumbered three to one. Whatever pittance these two louts were being paid was definitely too much. �ś That wasn’t a request, Professor!” David knew his opportunity was now. He raised both hands in a non-threatening gesture, then snapped his left arm back sharply, nailing his elbow hard into the tall one’s middle. The man doubled up in pain, the air driven from his lungs. Eyes bulging, mouth gaping, he collapsed to his knees. As anticipated, Abdel was the first to react. Alarm registered behind his thick glasses as he grabbed for the gun inside the open drawer. He was quick for a man of his years, but not fast enough. David lashed out with his foot, throwing his full weight against the edge of the desk, hurling the metal frame back into Abdel with sufficient force to up-end both. Catapulted from his chair, the pudgy man shrieked in anger, the pistol discharging in his hand a split second before the back of his head smashed into the unyielding block wall. The errant bullet ripped into the ceiling at a sharp angle, raining bits of shattered plaster across the room. Incredibly, it took the loud report of the gun and the flying debris to finally spur the brawler into action. Enraged at what had just transpired under his nose, he plowed into David like veritable bull, attempting to overpower him with his formidable size and strength. The collision was jarring. Caught off balance, David was propelled sideways against the opposite wall. Though shaken by the impact, he recovered in time to see a balled fist arcing towards his face. He managed to slip under it, and countered by driving his own solidly into the man’s unprotected ribs. Not just once, but twice. The second blow was placed with more calculation�"and he felt the unmistakable crack of bone beneath his knuckles. Yet the brawler refused to go down. He stumbled backwards, his face contorted in disbelief. Then, desperate to redeem himself, he clumsily made for the pistol beside his unconscious boss. Knowing his intent, David tackled him before the weapon could be reached, ramming his shoulder into the man’s damaged ribs. The lout’s guttural roar of frustration filled the room as they both hit the floor. David quickly swept the gun aside; then ended the one-sided struggle with a chopping right fist to the jaw. �ś David, look out!” He reacted instinctively to Elizabeth’s screamed warning, throwing himself to the left. By doing so, he narrowly escaped the path of a bullet. Cement chips exploded from the floor, spraying fragments into his face as he rolled clear. The tall one had recovered sufficiently to retrieve the gun. Elizabeth had clearly fouled his first shot; then paid the price for her interference. Shoved forcibly aside, she lay dazed on the floor. Now Abdel’s hawk-faced henchman was again taking aim�"and this time there was damn little David could do but watch as his finger tightened on the trigger. But it never happened. A sudden shattering of glass froze the man’s hand. Startled, he immediately looked up at the smashed window, only to cry out as another gun was fired, ripping a bullet into his upper shoulder. Arms flailing, he crashed backwards to the floor. David’s eyes were also drawn by the breaking window. Now it took a long moment for everything to register. The gunshot clearly came from the alley outside. But fired by who? This made no sense! There was no time to try figuring it out. Scrambling to Elizabeth, he lifted her bodily to her feet. She was shaken, but appeared otherwise unhurt. His first priority was to get her the hell out of here. He rushed her outside and bodily pushed her into the car. The lane was still empty, but this wouldn’t last. The shots were too loud to have gone unheard. He leaped behind the wheel, hurriedly thrusting the keys into the ignition. The engine caught on the first turn and he threw it into gear, tramping the accelerator. The car lurched forward, gathering momentum as he raced towards the end of the block. Without braking, he cut a hard right at the corner, the tires suddenly squealing as they left the dirt and hit solid pavement. Only then did he snap on the headlights. Now David was aware of a burning sensation in his side. He probed the area with his hand, finding the pain only intensified at his touch. Puzzled, he glanced down at his palm. Apparently, the first bullet came closer to killing him than he realized, for the wet smear across his hand was blood. With all his adrenaline pumping, he never felt a thing. Elizabeth also saw his hand. �ś Jesus, David! You’ve been shot!” CHAPTER SEVEN Several hours later, Elizabeth remained awake in her suite, astounded at the extraordinary calm that had descended upon her. Considering all that happened, she knew she should be hysterical. Yet strangely, it wasn’t the case. Instead, part of her actually felt more alive than ever before. It was illogical, she thought, but there was no denying the sensation. She sat up and lit another cigarette, noting her hand scarcely trembling at all anymore. The sudden violence had initially terrified her. Now she felt merely numbed by the whole experience. Much of her recovery, she knew, was attributable to the shot of whisky David forced her to swallow in his room; not a remedy she sought; yet she appreciated the results. Thankfully, David’s wound proved far less serious than the profusion of blood first indicated. The path of the bullet created little more than a shallow crease under his ribcage, requiring only the application of antiseptic ointment and a makeshift bandage. In a way, she was even glad he chose not to seek a doctor, for the physical act of tending to him gave her something immediate and pressing to occupy her mind when she most needed it. Nor did she question his refusal to report any of this to the police. There was nothing to be gained, he assured her, for any kind of investigation would be meaningless, serving no practical purpose. Besides which, what possible explanation could either of them give for even being in that warehouse? My God! What have I gotten myself into? She inhaled the smoke deeply, shaking her head at all the harsh words and anger she threw at David before leaving his room. Most of it was undeserved; her nerves were frayed, her judgment clouded by the near-hysteria of almost seeing him killed before her very eyes. Most , but not all! She still felt betrayed. How dare he conclude her grandfather probably associated with thieves and smugglers�"and God knows what else. It was insulting. Ridiculous! And if David really had been killed? The thought chilled her. What if that bullet�" She crushed out the cigarette, knowing herself far too tired to reconcile all her conflicting emotions. Sleep should improve her perspective. * * * A brilliant sun was just emerging above the tawny, limestone cliffs of the distant Muqattam Hills as an agitated Hassan parked opposite the entrance of Shepheard’s Hotel. It was exactly five-fifteen when he turned off the ignition. As hoped, Heikal was nowhere to be seen. His early arrival was intentional, for he needed the extra minutes to organize his thoughts and finalize a critical decision. He had spent the past several hours driving aimlessly along the broad avenues of the east bank, struggling with the complexities of his dire situation. Now he nervously studied his reflection in the rearview mirror, assessing the damage of his long night of turmoil. Even at a glance, it was considerable; his eyes were mere reddish slits, the dark circles beneath puffy from lack of sleep. He snapped open the glove compartment and pulled out his sunglasses. With any luck, Heikal wouldn’t wonder about them. He wore them often. As much as Hassan wished otherwise, only two paths were open to him. And therein lay the heart of his problem, for neither was safe, each entailing terrible personal risks. Either he told Heikal immediately�"or never. There was no middle ground, no room to maneuver. And once chosen, there could be no turning back. The whole thing was a fucking double-edged sword, both edges poised at his throat! For the past few years, Hassan’s worst nightmare was the possibility of Heikal one day discovering how he’d cheated Oristano. If Heikal ever got an inkling of the arrangement Manning made with old Sharif three years before, then it would only be a matter of time before Hassan’s involvement was revealed. And the thought of that eventuality sent icy chills up his spine. He knew how Heikal rewarded treachery; his brand of justice was always certain, always painfully lethal. Now fate seemed determined to make his nightmare come true. Looking up, he saw the big man approaching, his time expired. He made his decision as Heikal opened the passenger door and slid inside. Risky though it was, he’d say nothing of the professor’s near-fatal encounter with Abdel Khafaghi and his henchmen. Considering what went down, he was going to gamble everything on his belief Manning wouldn’t dare try anything so foolish a second time. �śLet’s go,” said Heikal, gesturing with his hand. �śIf possible, I want to find a spot with an unobstructed view of both the Sheraton lobby and that side exit to the parking lot.” He glanced over as Hassan revved the engine and swung into the street. �śI take it nothing happened after I left?” Hassan affected an expression of complete boredom. �śNot a thing, Sabir.” * * * David’s phone rang mere seconds after he stepped from the shower. A quick glance at his bedside clock confirmed it was scarcely six-thirty. He wrapped a towel around his middle and sat on the bed, picking up on the forth ring. The voice on the other end surprised him. It was Ahmed Rashidi. �śGood morning, sir. I deeply apologize for such an early call, but I was afraid I might not otherwise reach you. Have you and Miss DeCaylus made plans for today?” �śNothing we can’t change. In fact, I was going to give Lewis a call later this morning on the off-chance you might’ve turned something up.” �śThat’s the reason for my call. I was extremely fortunate to find Burkhart’s pay records late last night. We haven’t had much time to go through it, of course, but it appears to contain useful information. We would like to see you and Elizabeth as soon as possible, if that’s all right. Dr. Gobeir suggests we meet in the Cairo Museum.” �śNot a problem.” �śVery good. Shall we say ten o’clock? He has the use of a small office off the North Gallery, though I suspect it may be difficult for you to locate. The easiest solution is for me to meet you at the entrance to the New Kingdom Hall.” �śWe’ll be there.” David felt encouraged as he replaced the phone. Rashidi’s apparent reluctance to give details was understandable. But if the tone of his voice was any indicator, they’d definitely found something promising. How else was he to interpret their eagerness to get together? He resisted the urge to immediately dial Elizabeth. It was still too early�"and God knew she needed all the sleep available after last night’s debacle. He still couldn’t believe his stupidity. The fault was entirely his. He should’ve foreseen the possibility of some kind of mix-up; after all, Bayoumi specifically warned him of trouble inside the Khafaghi family. Christ, what the hell was he thinking? Taking her was beyond just foolhardy�"it was inexcusable! By rights, he could understand if she went out and booked the next flight back to the states. And maybe she intends doing just that! He would know soon enough. Keeping the bandage protected in the shower had been tricky, but a quick check in the bathroom mirror showed it was still relatively dry and secure. No sign of fresh bleeding. It was unlikely anyone would notice it beneath his shirt. If Elizabeth was still onboard, he must caution her against saying anything about the incident�"at least for now, anyway. Getting involved in a shooting was hardly the respectable image they wanted to present to Gobeir. While shaving he again wondered about the shot fired from the alley window. It happened so quickly, too fast for anything more than a fleeting impression to register. Yet he did catch a faint glimpse of the man. When the gun fired, the accompanying flash was instantaneous�"but damn if he didn’t experience a faint glimmer of recognition. Was it just his imagination, or had he seen that face somewhere before? And then there was the question of motive. If he understood why the man saved his life, it just might jog his memory. And one thing was certain; it was definitely no accident. Not only was it deliberate, but it was expertly done�"even down to first smashing the glass to distract the man’s attention. Nor was it blind luck, in David’s opinion, that the tall one was only wounded and not killed outright. Whoever did this was clearly no amateur. A professional? He lowered his razor, considering the implication of his own analysis. All the evidence did lean in this direction. But if true, then it raised yet another question. Just who exactly was being spied on from the alley? Was it Abdel Khafaghi�"or him and Elizabeth? * * * They were among the first to enter the Cairo Museum when the ornate iron gates swung open at eight-thirty. Built a full century before, the vast edifice housing Egypt’s antiquities looked every bit its age; and it was obvious even to the untrained eye the famed museum was woefully inadequate to present its enormous collection. They walked through the great Rotunda where statuary of the most colossal size was displayed, then proceeded from one gallery to another, slowly working their way through the many halls of treasure spanning all the dynasties of Egypt’s remarkable past. Being familiar with the museum’s innumerable artifacts, David acted as Elizabeth’s guide, steering her to those exhibits he thought would most interest her. She was noticeably impressed, but her thoughts and focus were obviously elsewhere. If he was forgiven for last night, she had yet to say it. More likely than not, she was still unsure, herself. At ten o’clock they were standing before the white marble statue of Thutmose III, Pharoah of the Egyptian empire at its zenith, when Rashidi approached through the milling crown. �śSo good to see you both again,” he said, shaking their hands. �śMay I take you to Dr. Gobeir? The office we’ve been using isn’t very big, but the museum was kind enough to put it at his disposal when he retired. Let me show you the way.” Considering the general overcrowding of the rest of the building, the modest room came as no surprise. If anything, its cramped aspect was even less appealing than the tiny office Omar Bayoumi called home. Lacking a window to the outside, its only source of illumination was a six-foot fluorescent fixture suspended from the high ceiling. Gobeir was waiting for them. As greetings were given, Rashidi immediately excused himself, saying he had some additional research to wrap up, the purpose of which Gobeir would shortly explain. �śPlease excuse the accommodations,” the older man said good-humoredly, �śbut it’s the best we have.” He ushered them towards two metal chairs arranged before an equally undistinguished desk. A large notepad and bound book lay on its worn surface. �śI’ve something here you’ll both want to look over. This is Burkhart’s account ledger, covering all his site expenses right up to the second week of October 1956. And you’ll be pleased to know, Elizabeth, your grandfather’s name shows up.” He paused; opening the book to an inserted marker, then spun it around for their perusal. �śThough Burkhart apparently had some difficulty with the spelling, there’s no question as to identity.” They scanned the names, locating �ŚLionel Dekaylas’ written in faded, blue ink. In addition, there were nine other names; five of mixed European extraction, four clearly Egyptian. Two lines below was a capsule accounting of Burkhart’s additional work force of unskilled native labor. Here the men were listed simply by quantity, in this particular week a respectable total of fifty-three diggers. Of these, the only one recorded by name was the headman, one N. Mehra. David raised his head. �śAny chance we can get a copy of all this?” �śI anticipated this, old boy. Understand, it’s completely against museum policy, but I managed to pull a few strings with the front office. I’m taking this over later this morning for scanning. They’ve promised me two printed copies before closing.” David nodded, impressed by Gobeir’s influence and connections. It obviously paid to have friends in high places. �śI take it you’ve read through this already?” �śOnly once�"and then rather quickly, I’m afraid.” �śAbout these other nine names, are they consistent throughout?” �śPretty much. At least where it seems to matter.” He slid a sheet over. �śHere, I wrote them down in my preliminary notes. By the way, this also tells us that Elizabeth’s grandfather only worked at the site up through the end of June, which I found to be a bit of a surprise.” �ś That is surprising,” David agreed. �śMakes you wonder why he would leave a paying job, doesn’t it?” Gobeir lifted his shoulders. �śRegarding these other names,” he continued, �śmy initial findings are interesting, but on the whole, less than encouraging. It looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us. Quite frankly, I hoped to identify more than just three.” David read through the short list. Three were underlined. Two others had notations scribbled alongside. Selim Ismail Bruno Haussman (Ger. nat’l? Unlikely) Gabriella Becatti Mohamed Wahby Guy Stewart (? – check Raymond) Lewis Badawi Paul Cameron Mahmoud el Badri Richard Bowden �śThese you identified, any of them still alive?” �śI’m afraid not.” David pulled out his own small notepad. �śI’d like to start with these three, if you don’t mind. Can you give me a quick run-down on who they were? Let’s start with Selim Ismail.” �śVery briefly, Ismail was a most remarkable gentleman by anyone’s standards. He taught for many years at Cairo University, later becoming a director for the Government Ministry of Antiquities. He died back in 1994, I believe.” �śAnd Mohamed Wahby?” �śAn equally talented scholar, although not as generally well-known. His primary field of expertise was native Christian art. He had a long association with the National Coptic Museum here in Cairo before old age forced his retirement about nine years ago. He passed away a short time later.” �śWhat about this Paul Cameron?” Gobeir’s face brightened. �śAh, now here we have one of those �Śinteresting’ little findings I referred to earlier. For our purposes, I believe Cameron has to be scrutinized the closest.” �śWhy’s that?” �śWhen I first began reading through the ledger, I was struck by a rather curious observation. It didn’t hit me immediately�"but you both look for yourselves. Skim through the weekly payrolls. See, I’ve marked the last six for you. Tell me if you don’t detect an odd little pattern.” David did so, sharing it with Elizabeth as he leafed through the entries made in Burkhart’s neat, methodical handwriting. After reading only four, it was apparent what Gobeir was referring to. He asked her, �śDo you see it?” �śYes, I think so,” she replied. �śIt’s the positioning of the names. Cameron’s always comes just before my grandfather’s in every listing. It hasn’t varied once.” �śThat’s it exactly, my dear,” beamed the older man. �śAnd now look again. Even though the names don’t change from one week to the next, they’re never in any particular order. It’s almost random. The only real consistency throughout is the recurring linkage between Cameron and your grandfather. Now if he made his list alphabetically, then it would make perfect sense�"but this clearly wasn’t his method. The names are quite haphazard, almost as if he simply sat down and listed his people as they came to mind. So, why is it, do you think, he always put Paul and Lionel together?” Elizabeth picked up on his logic immediately. �śBecause they were close friends? It has to be, right? Burkhart considered them almost as a single unit. When he thought of one, the other immediately came to mind.” �śThat’s the only explanation I could come up with�"and I think the proof of this is the first pay week in July. Take a look.” David found the page. Not only was Lionel gone, but so was Cameron’s name. �śThey left the excavation at the same,” he said aloud. �śYes, I’d say it’s pretty convincing evidence.” He paused. �śSo how much do you know about Cameron?” �śQuite a bit, actually. He taught history for a period at the American University. Mind you, I won’t pretend we had anything more than a passing acquaintanceship, but it doesn’t surprise me at all to learn he once worked at Tell El Amarna. Field archaeology was never his area of expertise, but I know it held a fascination for him.” He stopped to pull a book from his desk drawer. �śHere, I borrowed this from our library before you arrived. As you can see, Cameron was an authority on Egypt’s ancient beliefs and religious practices. I believe he authored a few other books, as well, but the subject matter was the same.” It was entitled �ŚThe Gods of Ancient Egypt’, and a quick glance at the inside cover told David it had a single printing in 1952. �śBut you say he’s now dead, right?” �śRegrettably, yes. The poor chap died about a dozen years ago. A cancer of the throat, if I’m not mistaken.” �śDid he leave any family?” �śThat I can’t say. He was a widower when I knew him. About any children, I just don’t know. But it’s certainly something we’ll have to check out.” Yes, David thought, they did have their work cut out for them. He set the book aside and looked again at the list of names. �śAccording to this, Lewis, we’re down to six unidentified people. I see you made a notation beside the name Bruno Haussman. ” �śOh, you mean about him not likely to be a German national? Just a little deductive reasoning on my part. Considering the dig site was Tell El Amarna, it seems unlikely this fellow was a German citizen�"you know, what with the Borchardt uproar and all. I’m reasonably certain our government’s prohibition on German archaeologists was still in effect at the time. Therefore I’m assuming he was either an American or British citizen.” �śGood point. Now what about�"” �śWait a second,” interrupted Elizabeth. �śA prohibition on German nationals? What’s all this mean?” Gobeir apologized by saying, �śThat was inconsiderate of me. I should’ve explained it better, my dear. You see, Tell El Amarna has attracted its share of looters and scoundrels for over a full century. And the most notorious among these�"at least as far as Egypt is concerned�"was a man by the name of Ludwig Borchardt, the founder and first Director of the German Institute of Archaeology. Back in 1912, when the site was still relatively unexcavated, Borchardt unearthed the now world famous bust of Queen Nefertiti. So entranced was he by the masterpiece, he chose not to inform the Egyptian authorities. Instead, he secretly smuggled it back to his native Berlin. When this got out, all German archaeologists were banned from working inside Egypt.” �śI see,” said Elizabeth, �śIs that part of the reason the Antiquities Department was so sensitive to rumors surrounding the Burkhart dig?” �śYes, I suspect it played a part.” While listening to this exchange, David used the opportunity re-copy the names onto his own notepad. Now he wondered about Gobeir’s other notation. �śYou have a question mark written beside the name Guy Stewart�"that and the name �ŚRaymond’ . What’s this mean?” �śAgain, more speculation. Though the name Guy Stewart means nothing to me, I’m fairly certain I’ve run across the name Raymond Stewart before. And unless I’m dead wrong, it had something or other to do with Tell El Amarna. It might well be nothing, but I thought it worth having Ahmed check out. He’s been on it since six this morning. Quite frankly, I expected him back by�"” He stopped, pivoting in his chair as Rashidi opened the door. �śWell, and speak of the devil. Your timing is excellent, Ahmed. I was just explaining what you were up to. So then, was I right about Raymond Stewart?” Rashidi looked decidedly pleased with himself. �śAbsolutely, sir. It seems we may have our first break.” �śThat’s what I like to here. Come, pull up a chair and tell us.” He quickly did so. �śYou were quite correct, sir, about a �ŚRaymond’ Stewart connection to Tell El Amarna�"but not about it being in the context of archaeology. At least not technically, anyway . . .” �śReally? Explain.” �śWell, I went through all the earlier Tell El Amarna excavation records I could find�"Petrie, Pendlebury, just to name a few�"and came up empty. It was only then I came across a museum survey map someone had slipped inside one of the boxes. It was dated 1958 and produced by a Raymond Stewart. It seems he worked strictly as a survey engineer, regularly employed by the museum to better understand the dimensions and topography of all our better-known sites.” �śSo, if he was hired by us, then we must have detailed paperwork on him, right?” Rashidi shook his head. �śI’m afraid not, sir. That’s what I also assumed. I checked it out. The reason is he was hired �Śon loan’, so to speak, through a London based agency, one recommended by the British Department of Antiquities. They’re the ones who will have all his personnel records.” He smiled. �śBut with all your contacts in England, we should be able to establish fairly quickly whether or not Guy and Raymond are related.” �śGood work, Ahmed,” said Gobeir. �śWe can get a fax off to my old school chum, Sir Edward Lanier, before the day’s out. He still heads up their advisory board as far as I know.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. �śAnd let’s also include the names Haussman, Becatti, and Bowden, as well. Lanier doubtless has access to all his department’s sponsorship and funding records, so there’s no telling what else he might come up with.” �śYou don’t want to include the Egyptian names?” �śNo, I think not. Let’s not overload the old fellow unnecessarily�"at least not until we’ve had a chance to explore all the possibilities ourselves here in Cairo.” He paused; then looked at David. �śAll of this with your permission, of course.” �śSounds reasonable to me, Lewis. For myself, I’d like a shot at the American University’s early faculty lists. You have any contacts there?” �śIndeed, yes. I take it you’re thinking about the Cameron connection. That would be a logical first step. I’ll put in a call right now to their Personnel Director and see what can be arranged.” �śWe’ll need a plausible cover story.” �śI imagine so,” mused Gobeir. �śSomething relatively straightforward, I should think. No sense giving away any more than we need to.” He considered for a second, then said, �śWhy don’t I say we’re collaborating on some sort of historical paper? You can always elaborate as you see fit once you’re there.” �śGood enough.” Satisfied, the older man swung his attention back to Rashidi. �śWhich now leaves Selim Ismail’s many years at Cairo University. What do you think, Ahmed? Is this something you’re best suited to pursue? It is your alma mater . . .” Rashidi agreed. �śI can head right over as soon we’re done putting the fax together. As to the university, they know me well enough, so I shouldn’t have any problems. If necessary, I can always fall back on the same cover-story.” �śThen we have our start. I see no reason why we can’t�"” �śThere’s just one more thing, Lewis,” said David. �śA favor, actually. Do you happen to have access to a private safe?” �śNot here, no. I do have one in my study at home.” �śThen we want you to put the disk in it for the immediate future.” He extracted the case from his pocket and handed it over. �śUnless you have a better idea, we don’t know any other way to protect it.” �śI haven’t really thought on it, but I suppose it only makes good sense, doesn’t it? Now getting back to what I was saying�"” �śAren’t you boys forgetting someone?” interrupted Elizabeth. �śSurely there must be something I can do to help?” Gobeir chuckled as he removed his reading glasses. �śMy dear, I can’t tell you how happy I am you asked. In fact, I was rather hoping to enlist your assistance right here in the museum library. I’ve already earmarked a fairly extensive list of source material and related matter that needs looking into�"and these old eyes of mine need all the help they can get. It’s a laborious task, but very necessary if we’re to track down and identify these six people. Ahmed can set you up right now, if that’s acceptable? I’ll join you there as soon as I’m able.” �śMy pleasure, Lewis,” smiled Elizabeth. �śI’m ready to go.” * * * While Gobeir placed his call to the American University, David paid a quick visit to Bayoumi’s office on the off chance his friend might recognize one of the names. It would be unlikely, but he saw no harm in trying; their relationship was such that the Assistant Curator wouldn’t press for explanations when none was forthcoming. Not unexpectedly, Bayoumi drew a blank. He did, however, offer an interesting observation on the long career of the late Dr. Mohamed Wahby. Although Wahby’s association with the National Coptic Museum was a matter of public record, his contributions towards the staffing of the fledgling Society of Coptic Archaeology had gone largely unheralded. Back in the fifties and sixties, the careers of many young Egyptian archaeologists benefited from his experience and guidance. Might not Lewis Badawi or Mahmoud el Badri be among these? It was Bayoumi’s suggestion a search of the latter organization’s membership records might prove worthwhile. David thanked him for the promising lead; then left before his friend thought to inquire about the coppersmith, Zahir. The altercation with Abdel Khafaghi would have to remain an awkward secret for the time being. Back in Gobeir’s office, he learned his appointment at the American University was set for one o’clock. It was already noon, but their campus bordered the southern edge of Tahrir Square, scarcely a quarter mile away. Having time to spare, he told him of Bayoumi’s idea concerning the Society of Coptic Archaeology. Gobeir listened with interest, yet gave the distinct impression of being less than enthusiastic. Curious as to why, David asked, �śIs there something about this that bothers you? You look doubtful.” �śDoubtful? Why, not a bit, old boy. On the contrary, I think it’s a very good idea. If anything, I’m only sorry I didn’t think of it myself.” He wasn’t completely convincing. �śYou sure that’s all, Lewis?” Gobeir hesitated a brief moment, then said, �śWell, to be honest, I guess I’m just a little surprised you brought someone else into this. The decision is entirely yours to make, of course�"and please don’t take me wrong, for Bayoumi is certainly a very fine and learned man.” David saw the misunderstanding. �śLewis, it’s not what you think. Omar knows absolutely nothing about the gold disk. He’s just a valued friend. I wouldn’t think of revealing any of this to him�"or to anyone else, for that matter�"until the four of us have a chance to resolve everything to our complete satisfaction. Believe me, I’ve no illusions about what would happen if word of the disk ever gets out.” Gobeir appeared relieved to hear this. And more than a little embarrassed. �śI really am sorry,” he apologized. �śI should’ve assumed as much, and not leaped to so hasty a conclusion. Please forgive me. Like you, David, my deepest concern is we keep a firm lid on all this for as long as possible.” �śNo problem. My sentiments exactly.” CHAPTER EIGHT Even though it was the traditional Muslim day of rest, David found the wide boulevards branching out from the heart of the city as congested as ever. Despite the intense heat, he drove with the window closed, for the air was replete with the choking fumes given off by cheap-grade petrol. As always, the packed vehicles were a mixture of both ancient and modern, everything from humble donkey carts and battle-scarred buses all the way up to the most expensive European cars. Typically, all drivers displayed their natural disregard for pedestrians as they aggressively competed for right-of-way. A block south of Tahrir Square, he turned left onto Sharia Shaykh and quickly spotted Ewart Memorial Hall, the famed concert theater that served as the American University’s main entrance. From there signs in both Arabic and English directed him into an empty lot. By his watch it was exactly one o’clock when he parked and walked into a modern, brick building. The university’s Personnel Department occupied the entire left wing of the first floor, much of it laid out in the contemporary open-sided cubicles currently passing for offices. At first glance, all appeared deserted. �śAnyone here?” A rather casually dressed young man of about twenty popped up from behind a dividing partition; then attempted a more businesslike appearance by brushing down his rolled shirtsleeves. �śI didn’t hear you come in,” he said, using his fingers to tidy his hair. �śHow may I help you, sir?” David introduced himself. �śAh, then you’re the American gentleman working with Dr. Gobeir. I was told you’d be around.” He shook David’s hand, smiling. �śI’ve been instructed to assist you in every way possible. As you can see, there’s little activity here Friday afternoons. If you wish to begin, please consider me at your service.” David opened by requesting a copy of the university’s faculty list, beginning in 1945 until the year 1970, an arbitrary cut-off point inserted to save time. If any of the names were to show up, it surely would by then. The young man complied with a complete printout, plus personnel’s master file on the late Paul Cameron. The latter couldn’t be photocopied without written authorization, but this presented no problem. His next request wasn’t so easily met, for no similar listing of the university’s graduates prior to 1958 was ever entered into their computer records. The data existed, he was told, but would have to be reviewed manually off reels of microfilm. Again, he picked an arbitrary year, asking for the reels that went back to 1935. While his eager helper sought out the material, he selected a desk near an open window and began perusing Cameron’s file. Born in 1929, he had degrees from Edinburgh University and King’s College in London, qualifying him to teach philosophy of religion as well as archaeology. A curious combination, he thought, but hardly pertinent to their investigation. Of more interest were the two entries in his Personal Data Form. For his place of residence he’d given an address on Sharia Nubar, S.W. Lazughi Square�"and then listed a dependent daughter named Ruth Anne Cameron . Bingo! The entry was dated 4/13/53 and never updated. Presumably this meant the information remained valid throughout the rest of his tenure. Encouraged, David now turned his attention to the faculty list printout, mindful of the possibility Lionel’s surname might not be the only one misspelled in Burkhart’s ledger. But nothing remotely close to the six �Śunknowns’ in his notepad showed up. He set the computer sheets aside as the young man returned with a portable microfilm reader and a box of films. This part wasn’t going to be easy. It was fast closing on four o’clock when he finally inserted the last reel and began advancing the film. The scanning of each took much longer than anticipated, the myriad of names eventually becoming a tedious blur. With no success up to this point, he felt tempted to call it quits. He’d actually done well. After all, not only did he established Cameron left a daughter, but he also had both a name and a�"W hoa! That’s when he saw it. Momentarily unsure it wasn’t a trick of his tired eyes, he blinked and looked again. But there was no mistake. He waved his helper back over. �ś Something I can help you with, Professor?” �ś Tell me, does the university still keep personal data files on its early graduates?” �ś Of course.” �ś Well, there’s one I’d like to look through.” �ś Just give me a year and a name and I’ll�"” �ś1957.” �śAnd the man’s name?” �śIt’s a woman. Gabriella Becatti.” * * * It was fifteen minutes past closing when David finally arrived back at the museum. He drove around to the west side and parked in the lot reserved for employees. Alerted by Gobeir to his possible late return, the security people admitted him without any hassle. He found Gobeir and Elizabeth concluding an equally tedious afternoon in the library offices. Each looked tired and disappointed, for their painstaking search through the archive material unearthed virtually nothing of any relevance. How Rashidi faired at Cairo University was yet to be learned. Gobeir expected him back at any time. David told them of his findings. In his opinion, the only real glimmer of hope lay in his discovery that Cameron had a daughter. �śIf he and Lionel were the close friends we believe,” he said, �śthen she might be able to tell us what went on during those few months and weeks. Assuming, of course, she’s still alive. She might well not be.” �śAnd also assuming,” cut in Gobeir, �śRuth was even in Egypt in the first place. Remember, Paul was a widower�"and probably was back when he moved here from England. Not to throw a wet blanket on this, but what’s to say he even brought her? Leaving a child in the relative safety of England wouldn’t have been uncommon in those days.” �śI don’t think he did,” said David. �śI mean, what would be the point of listing a next of kin without entering where he or she could be found? Logically, the only answer is a second address was unnecessary. She was right here with him in Cairo.” Gobeir saw his point. �śAnd what about the address he did give?” �śA dead-end. It was on Sharia Nubar, off Lazughi Square. There’s nothing there now but blocks of government buildings. Near as I can tell, Cameron’s residence was roughly where the Ministry of Finance now stands.” The old scholar sighed, pinching his lower lip. �śSo much for that then. We’ll just have to give this a lot more thought.” Elizabeth asked, �śAnd you say there’s nothing useable on this Becatti woman?” �śI wish there was,” replied David, �śbut like Cameron, her home address is next to useless. She lived in the old Imbabah section of the city, but that area of the west bank was transformed into concrete office and apartment blocks well over thirty years ago. The major focus of her studies was Egyptology, but unless she applied her training towards a career of some kind, I’m afraid it’s going to be a bastard finding her.” This new disappointment only added to the weary cast of Elizabeth’s face. She looked at both of them, moving her head slightly. �śThis is all so confusing. I mean, she must have had a career! Her name is in Burkhart’s ledger. Doesn’t this prove it?” Her logic was sound on the surface, but there was a wrinkle. David explained the problem. �śNot really. That’s where everything gets dicey. According to her file, she never received her degree until a full year later, 1957. Lewis touched on it yesterday; student volunteers were never paid, putting in their time just for the field experience. So the question is, what made this Gabriella Becatti so special as to be on the payroll?” �śJust what we need,” she said dismally. �śMore questions without answers. God, we’re really not getting anywhere, are we?” The growing strain was telling on her, David saw, and it seemed more than just frustration. She needed to get out of here. �śLook, maybe what we all need is time to unwind and think this through. Myself, I’d like nothing better right now than a long shower followed by a relaxing dinner.” She required no convincing. Neither did Gobeir. He declined their offer of a lift, choosing instead to wait on Rashidi. He picked up a thick folder, adding, �śHere, take this with you, old boy. The front office ran two copies, so you can go through Burkhart’s ledger at your leisure. I’ll ring you later tonight, giving us time to work out tomorrow’s strategy.” * * * David’s concern over Elizabeth’s darkening mood only grew during the drive back to the Sheraton. Something was definitely troubling her, and he felt it went beyond just the heat and tedium of an over-long day. The formal interior of the hotel lobby was a refreshing haven from the clamor of the streets outside as he steered her towards the elevator. �śYou seem . . . preoccupied,” he said tactfully as they rode up to their floor. �śI’m told I can be a pretty good listener if you want to talk?” She acquiesced with a weak nod. Once in her room, he allowed her all the time she needed to organize her thoughts. After drawing back the balcony curtains, she stood for some time gazing out at the still-brilliant sky, her arms folded tightly to her chest. Finally, she heaved a sigh, and said; �śI learned quite a lot working with Lewis in the archives today. More than I feel comfortable with . . .” Her voice was subdued. �śI guess I really shouldn’t let things bother me so much.” �śWhat kind of things?” She hesitated; then said, �śYou’ll think me foolish.” �śTry me.” Unsure, she turned and faced him. �ś I know it’s rather childish,” she said, �śbut I still can’t wrap my mind around all the unbelievable theft and�"and outright plundering�"Egypt’s endured over the past hundred years and more. The more I read, the more . . .” She stopped, leaving the thought unsaid. �śDavid, I had no idea how commonplace it all was�"or how so many reputable archaeologists had their hands in it. The personal journals that have come into the museum’s possession are filled with examples�"names even I’m familiar with! I suppose I was na�Żve enough to think this kind of activity was a rare occurance. Now�"now I’m beginning to wonder if�"if maybe�"” �ś Your grandfather?” She swallowed. �śWhat if there really are things hidden away in his past? Ugly things, David! Things I don’t want to�"” �ś Wait a minute. Aren’t you doing exactly what you accused me of doing last night?” He put his hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension beneath. �śLook, there is absolutely no evidence to show that Lionel ever did anything wrong.” �ś No? And just what do you call smuggling a priceless artifact out of Egypt?” He drew her closer. �śIt’s not the same,” he said evenly. �śIf we’re right about his motives, then it wasn’t done for personal gain. Far from it! There’s no shame in what he did, Elizabeth.” �ś But that’s not what everyone will believe, is it? I kept thinking about it all afternoon. The bottom line is, it makes no difference whether we feel his intentions were good or not! When everyone finds out about the disk, my grandfather’s name is going to be dragged through the mud like a common thief!” �ś That’s not the way it�"” �ś Isn’t it? David, you heard the scorn in Lewis’ voice this morning when he talked about that�"that Ludwig Borchardt. Because of the Nefertiti bust, the man’s name is reviled throughout the entire country . . . And this over just a painted statue! That’s nothing compared to what we’re talking about! Can you even begin to imagine what it will be like if my grandfather’s name becomes synonymous with the loss�"or actual plundering!�"of the sarcophagus of Alexander the Great?” �śIt won’t come to that.” �śBut there’s no way it can be stopped! It finally dawned on me before you came back. It’s inevitable! Unless we actually find out where the gold disk came from, we’ve got no choice but to turn it over to the Egyptian authorities�"and this means a full disclosure of how we came by it. The press is going to have a field day digging out and printing everything they can find on my grandfather�"and probably my father, too!” He saw tears building in her eyes, the frustration and near panic of something beyond her ability to control. And her fear wasn’t without justification. Yet he also knew it was far too early for either of them to be contemplating the worst. �ś Listen to me, Elizabeth,” he soothed. �śWe are not going to let this happen. You have to believe the two of us are going to accomplish exactly what we set out to do. One way or another, we’re going to solve this, okay? No matter how long it takes.” She forced a weak smile, wanting to accept his judgment. �śMaybe I just needed to hear it said,” she whispered, the panic now receding from her eyes. �śI�"I normally don’t let things get to me like this.” She paused, struggling for the right words. �śIt’s hard to explain, but back in the library I suddenly found myself overwhelmed by it all. I guess I was just over-tired and depressed.” �śAnd probably hungry, too? You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” �śMore like starved,” she said, her smile deepening. �śThink we can do something about that?” �śDefinitely. Right now, if you like.” �śSounds great. Just give me fifteen minutes to freshen up and change” �śTake as long as you need,” he said, releasing her with reluctance. �śI’ll be in my room whenever you’re ready.” The pleasure of holding her lingered with him as he walked down the hall and unlocked his door. So much so, he didn’t immediately notice the layered cigarette smoke filling his room. When he did, it was already too late. A gaunt figure sat at the far end of his couch�"and the revolver in his hand was aimed squarely at David’s chest. The elderly man’s eyes were fixed, his look deadly serious look. He was Egyptian, tall and lean and grizzle-faced; and despite his advanced years there was no hint of frailty or lack of purpose as he gestured David away from the open door. �śPlease close it and remain calm,” he said, �śfor I mean you no harm.” �śYou have an odd way of showing it.” The man actually smiled. �śIf killing you was my intent, you’d already be dead. Now, the door , if you please . . .” David was less than reassured, but complied. �śJust how the hell did you get in here?” he asked. He wasn’t merely buying time. He really wanted to know. �ś In due course, Professor Manning. You are David Manning, are you not?” �ś Who wants to know?” The man’s weathered features briefly creased into an even deeper smile as he butted out his cigarette. The ashtray was close to overflowing, a good indication of just how long he’d been waiting. �śNot that it much matters,” he said, �śbut my name is Yasir Haleem. I’m here at the request of a mutual friend�"one who for reasons of advanced age and poor health deeply regrets not being able to come to you in person.” This description fit only one person. �śYou were sent here by Sharif?” �śMy respects, sir. He said you’re a man of perception. I see this is so.” �śAs you say, he’s a friend. So why the gun?” �śA fair question. Let’s call it a small precaution on my part. I know the unfortunate events of your meeting with Sharif’s son last night, thus I felt you might be on guard against possible reprisals. I needed every assurance you would hear me out.” He flicked the gun slightly. �śI believe you Americans refer to this as an �Śattention grabber’, do you not? And you must admit, so far it’s proven an effect way of getting your attention.” �śSo was breaking into my room,” observed David. �śYour idea or his?” �śNothing so crass was necessary, I assure you. You see, Mr. Khafaghi has a wide range of contacts and loyal friendships across Cairo. Among these are people employed in several of the finest hotels. There was really no need for me to pick your lock like a common thief.” �śHow comforting. Well, I’ll certainly sleep easier knowing this.” He leaned back against the bureau, crossing his arms. �śNow where does this leave us? If my attention was all you wanted, you have it.” The man nodded in satisfaction; then lowered the gun to his knee, angling the short barrel towards the carpet. �śSharif wishes to personally make amends for the grave insult done to you. He knew nothing of your attempt to contact him yesterday, and sincerely hopes you don’t hold him responsible in any way for what occurred. If you’re indeed his friend, you will accept his complete innocence in this matter.” �śI never doubted it.” �ś Good . Then you’ll certainly honor the request he now makes of you.” �ś Which is?” �śThat you accompany me to him without delay. I have a car and driver waiting for us below. We can leave immediately.” David glanced at his wrist. Though scarcely six minutes had elapsed since leaving Elizabeth’s room, there was a real danger she might walk in at any moment. After last night, this was definitely something to be avoided. �śAssuming I believe you�"and I’m not sure I do�"why must it be right now, this minute? Not to alarm you, but I’m expecting company at any moment now.” �śAll the more reason for haste,” said the man. �śIf it’s truly important for you to speak with Sharif, I cannot guarantee any future opportunity will even be possible. I’m not here to plead with you, only to state the facts. The choice is yours.” The sudden gravity in his voice implied more than was actually said, and David studied his face closely. �śIs Sharif really this ill?” �śI fear so. He’s lived a long and full life, but the final call of Allah is upon him. It cannot be denied.” David weighed the situation carefully. Was the man telling the truth�"or was he manipulating him to his own purpose. �śYou’re very convincing in what you say,” he acknowledged, �śbut you’ll understand if I remain skeptical. How do I know this isn’t a clever ruse concocted by Abdel seeking revenge for last night?” �śAgain, a fair question. In his great wisdom, Sharif anticipated your probable reluctance. Thus he devised the simplest of solutions.” He abruptly stood up from the couch; then turned the revolver in his hand, offering it to David. �śPlease take it, Professor. If at any time you feel yourself being led into a trap, feel free to use it on me. A fair payment for any deceit, you might say.” �śVery generous of you,” said David. �śI’ll be sure to keep that option in mind.” A quick check of the gun’s cylinder showed the chambers were all loaded. He lifted his shirt and concealed it under his belt. Having it in his possession tipped the scales considerably. He then penned a brief note on the hotel stationary, placing the sheet on the coffee table where Elizabeth was certain to find it. �śOkay, Mr. Haleem�"or whatever you real name is�"let’s go.” �śYou intend leaving your room unlocked? Hardly a wise practice.” �śComing from you, that’s almost funny. How far to Sharif?” �śAt most, thirty minutes. My driver is unarmed, by the way, but please feel free to check him out if you�"” �śCount on it.” * * * Haleem’s silent companion drove the white Citroen deep into the northern suburb known as Bulaq, one of the oldest and most densely inhabited sections of modern Cairo. Riding in the back seat with Haleem, David kept a watchful eye on both men, his hand cautiously on the revolver. The colorful history of this particular stretch of land along the east bank of the Nile was known to him. Initially settled on marshlands drained by the Mamaluks in the late middle ages, the district was for centuries the city’s principle river port, a vigorous link in Egypt’s lucrative spice trade with the west. But Bulaq’s former importance was now gone, the omnipresent signs of squalor along the congested streets attesting to its demise. The long decline first began in earnest with the departure of the last of the great trading families early in the nineteenth century; now the entire area was swamped beneath successive waves of rural immigrants, the transformation into overcrowded poverty complete. Interestingly enough, physical evidence of Bulaq’s once prosperous past was still occasionally visible wedged between the decaying buildings of concrete and mud brick. An unexpected number of the old, merchant mansions from the Ottoman era had somehow managed to survive the cruel onslaught of time and overpopulation, though most were in such deplorable states of dilapitation as to be hardly recognizable. But not all. Haleem’s man parked before an imposing, two-story building which was a clear exception to the rule. The solid outer fa�żade of the ancient residence was deceptively plain, the lower floor constructed of rectangular limestone blocks, the upper overhung with latticed mashrabiyah windows set on large corbels. Not an expert, David could only guess at the structure’s great age as he got out of the car. The driver remained behind the wheel as David and Haleem entered through a sturdy door reinforced with wrought iron. Inside, Haleem nodded once to a bearded gatekeeper, then proceeded down a baffled corridor into an open courtyard of grand proportions. Here he bid his guest remain as he went on ahead to announce their arrival. David used the minutes to drink in the solemn quiet of his surroundings. It was duly impressive, a rare glimpse into a bygone era. Overlooking a central garden of palms and mimosa were additional banks of wooden mashrabiyah casements, their intricate patterned screens not unlike fine embroidery. In typical oriental fashion, the lower floor was clearly designed to accommodate the more mundane necessities of day-to-day living; kitchens, workshops, storerooms�"and, too, lesser apartments that doubtless once housed a fair number of servants and retainers. But now all was silent. In comparison to the bustling streets outside, this building had the distinct feel of an empty museum. Save for a large, tethered mastiff dozing in the sun, the only visible evidence of anyone actually living here was a bent, old woman pushing a straw broom near the far side of the courtyard. He was pondering the significance of all this when Haleem returned. �śSharif is ready to receive you, Mr. Manning.” A short walk took them to an open door leading into an exquisite qa’ah , a formal reception room two floors in height and likewise overhung by a balcony of latticed screens. At the further end a frail figure sat waiting on a low, cushioned liwan . �śHe wishes to speak with you in private,” Haleem said. �śHis strength is failing, so it would be a kindness to keep your business as brief as possible.” David returned the revolver before entering. * * * Back outside, an agitated Hassan parked on the opposite side of the street, staying well behind the white Citroen. Truthfully, he felt himself on the verge of panic. Struggling to hold unto his composure, he barely managed to keep his hand from trembling as he shut off the engine. Damn Manning for this! And to make matters worse, Heikal was watching him far too closely for comfort. �ś I’m not familiar with this area,” said the big man. �śYou?” Hassan shook his head. Perhaps too quickly. Heikal’s eyes narrowed to see this. �śWhat’s got you so jumpy?” he asked. �śYou’ve been acting strange all day.” Hassan shrugged. �śIt’s nothing. Just bored, I guess.” Though Heikal’s annoyance seemed only marginally appeased, he took pressure off Hassan by shifting his attention back to the overcrowded street. Hassan used the big man’s momentary distraction to swallow hard, his mouth dry as dust. He blinked rapidly behind his sunglasses, thinking there was only one possible way to learn what Manning was up to with Sharif. But could he pull it off without Heikal getting wise? He knew he must try. �śJust a thought, Sabir,” he said, attempting to sound casual, �śbut it might be better if I got out and walked around a little.” �śWhy’s that?” Hassan lifted a finger towards the Citroen up ahead. �śIt’s going to look a bit suspicious if he spots us both sitting here in his mirror. Besides, they’re probably going to be in there for some time. I can scout around the building, maybe sniff something out. So, what do you think?” Heikal gave a grudging consent. �śJust don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want Manning getting so much as a hint he’s being followed.” �śDon’t worry. No chance.” Hassan got out quickly, slipping unobtrusively across the street and into the crowd. Watching him, Heikal felt a vague twinge of unease. Why, he wondered, did Hassan assume Manning would be there a long time? Somehow the remark seemed rather odd. Come to think of it, so did the little man’s lame excuse for being unusually edgy all day. Something was definitely not right here! CHAPTER NINE As David crossed the worn marble floor he could scarcely believe the one he approached was indeed Sharif Khafaghi. It seemed quite impossible, for the wasted figure bore no resemblance to the corpulent and potent patriarch he met only three years before. A shocking metamorphosis had taken place, a physical deterioration pitiful to behold. Sharif’s emaciated frame was actually skeletal under the loose folds of his galabia�"and though the dark eyes brightened in pleasure as his guest drew near, it was sad to see how his once fleshy face had sunken, the skin drawn so tight to the bone as to appear almost transparent in the subdued light. The smile was genuine as he extended a veined hand for David to clasp. �ś Ahlan wa-sahlan ,” he said, offering the host’s traditional expression of welcome. Despite his weakened condition, Sharif’s voice remained surprisingly strong, an echo of his former self. �śCome closer, my friend. Sit beside me so I may see you more clearly.” As David did so, he added, �śYou do me much honor. I feared you might not accept my invitation after the insult inflicted upon you by my son.” �śYour man was both determined and persuasive, Sharif. How could I refuse such a convincing messenger?” �śTactfully said,” chuckled the old man. �śHaleem’s loyalty to me has been a true blessing for a great many years. My method was perhaps crude, I admit, but under the circumstances, I saw no alternative. Am I then forgiven for my boldness?” �śThere is nothing to forgive.” Content, Sharif leaned back against his many cushions. �śThen let us speak of more important matters. Firstly, I must say my knowledge of what transpired last night remains superficial. My discreet informants were not present, thus they learned only the most cursory of details. If it’s not too much trouble, I am curious as to exactly what happened.” David obliged him, leaving nothing out. The story told, Sharif shook his head in apparent disgust. �śMost regrettable,” he sighed. �śI am truly shamed beyond measure. I trust the young woman was unharmed? From what you say, she responded bravely when you were threatened . . .” �śIndeed. She came through the experience remarkably well.” �śI am thankful for this. If it eases your mind, my friend, I can assure you Abdel contemplates no act of revenge. I have seen to this personally. His pride is bruised, needless to say, but I have convinced him to leave well enough alone.” He took a long pause; then said, �śYet it puzzles me that you have no knowledge of just who your timely benefactor at the window may have been.” �śUntil a better explanation comes along, I can only assume we simply got caught between Abdel and someone harboring ill will towards him.” �śPerhaps so,” mused Sharif. �śSuch people are probably legion. As my eldest living son, he now runs many of our family enterprises, yet I have no illusions as to his character. His single talent�"if such it can be called�"is in the creation of enemies. I consider this a personal failure, for I must have been remiss in his upbringing. His undisciplined ways will inevitably lead to ruin, of this I am certain.” He smiled faintly. �śThus I wish to make amends to you for his base behavior. I view it as point of honor. Tell me, in what manner may I serve you?” David believed his sincerity. Sharif’s long reputation was of an honorable man who never retreated from his given word. �śWhat I need is any information you can provide on an incident that took place here in Cairo roughly sixty some years ago.” Sharif arched a sparse eyebrow. �ś As little as this?” he asked. �śNow you truly arouse an old man’s curiosity! But please continue.” �śIt concerns the woman’s grandfather, an obscure archaeologist who died here back in the summer of 1956. Until recently, it was assumed his death was accidental. But evidence has recently surfaced which raises some doubt.” �śYou think he was murdered?” �śYes, I do.” �ś And just how may I be of help?” �śIt’s important for us to learn all we can of her grandfather’s last contacts and associates. To be blunt, there’s a real chance he might’ve gotten himself involved in the black-market.” �śSo, thus you come to me. Quite understandable. And what leads you to suspect this may be so?” �śIt could mean nothing, but in the last few months before his death, he worked the Burkhart excavation at Tell El Amarna�"and it was during this time all those rumors of inside looting spread across Cairo. I’ve no hard evidence to support a connection, but neither can the timing be completely ignored.” Unless David misread Sharif’s face, it appeared his expression altered subtly at the mention of Tell El Amarna. For the briefest instant, the old man seemed to steal himself, his eyes focusing inward as if in hurried concentration. But the impression was fleeting, perhaps an inaccurate perception. �śThis is all very interesting, and I have sworn to help you if I can. A promise is sacred to me. The year 1956, you say? And who was this man?” �ś His name was Lionel DeCaylus,” David answered, watching his host closely. �śIt’s possible he may also have called himself �ŚParker’ on more than one occasion. A man of slight build, fair-complexioned, with reddish blond hair.” Sharif’s expression never changed, no hint of recognition touching his eyes. Instead, he only lifted his shoulders. �śIn all honesty, neither name is known to me. If it were otherwise, I would tell you.” David gambled on a hunch. �ś Yet inside looting did take place there, didn’t it? It was more than mere rumor?” The old man didn’t immediately reply, which was a kind of affirmation in itself. He pursed his lips tightly; then said with obvious reluctance, �śI will not deny such things happened, but you begin to probe a most sensitive area. Please understand, my friend, even after so long a time, there are still confidences that must be kept. If your question is whether or not this man was involved in some way, then I can only give you my solemn word I personally never knew of it. Thus I can neither confirm or nor deny his innocence in the affair.” David tried a different tact. �ś I have a short list of names,” he said, pulling out his pocket notepad, �śpeople who I know worked with DeCaylus at Tell El Amarna. Anything you can give me on them will be of great help. It’s important to me, Sharif.” �ś And if what you ask is more than I am at liberty to give?” �ś You swore to help me. Your words, not mine.” There followed a lengthy silence as the ailing man deliberated on this. Clearly the weight of his admitted obligation was now in direct conflict with his conscience. Finally, he heaved a sigh, extracting a pair of wire-frame glasses from a deep fold in his galabia. �śMaybe there is some ground for compromise,” he said, fitting them to the narrow bridge of his nose. �śShow me, and we shall see what can be done.” David gave him the list. Conscious of being closely watched, Sharif revealed little as he scanned the names. He then returned the pad. �śYour needs present me with a somewhat difficult dilemma. But it is not unmanageable.” He removed his glasses. �śI will tell what I can, but no more. How you choose to interpret it, I leave solely to you.” David nodded his understanding. �śIn late spring of 1956, a man came to me wishing to do business. He, too, was American, presenting several small artifacts to sell. They were minor items, to be sure, yet I recognized them as pieces of respectable quality and worth. It took no great expertise to deduce their origin, for they were certainly from Burkhart’s dig. Why he chose to come to me, I can only surmise. Perhaps he heard I was someone who paid fair value for genuine artifacts and could be trusted.” �śDid he identify himself?” �śNo, not at first. But I later learned he was Bruno Haussman. At the time, he was perhaps in his early sixties. We did business four or five times over a three-month period, and each time the artifacts he brought to me increased in both quality and value. I had no doubts he was in possession of an extremely rich cache. Cautious man that he was, I suspect he intended feeding them to me gradually over a period of time, thus ensuring himself the best possible price.” �ś Intended , you say? What happened?” �śUnfortunately for Mr. Haussman, he never lived to complete his plan. He died of injuries received in a local street accident�"and coincidentally, this occurred only hours before another of our arranged meetings. I was suspicious of foul play, of course, but there were many witnesses to say otherwise.” He paused. �śDoes this sound similar to what befell your Mr. DeCaylus?” David offered no answer. Instead, he asked, �śDid Haussman ever imply he had any accomplices.” �śNo, but one can only surmise.” David felt something important was going unsaid. How did Sharif express it a few moments ago? Confidences that must be kept. But to whom? Certainly not to someone long dead. Therefore there must be another! A bigger picture begam to take shape. �śI get the feeling you don’t have to surmise anything, Sharif. I think someone else on this list picked up right where Haussman left off�"someone who is still alive and with us today.” After a lengthy pause, Sharif gave a perceptible nod of confirmation. �śIt is so,” he admitted, �śbut I can say nothing beyond this. To divulge more would be to break a most solemn trust. This I cannot do. I owe this to one I hold in the greatest respect. Forgive me, my friend. If it were simply up to me . . .” David thought quickly, seeking a means to somehow breach the wall of firm resolve on the old man’s face. The stakes were too high to let the opportunity slip away. �ś You spoke of finding a way to compromise,” he said, �śso let me offer you one now. Can you be absolutely certain this person won’t speak with me of his own accord? I seek only the truth about Lionel DeCaylus. If nothing else, at least approach him. I swear I will never reveal more than I am allowed. If he still refuses, then I will accept you’ve done all within your power. Your conscious would be clear, all obligations of honor met.” The old man’s eyes narrowed as he weighed this reasonable proposal. But before he could respond, the far door swung open. It was Haleem. In the courtyard beyond, the large mastiff was no longer dozing. Instead, it was barking furiously. �śForgive the interruption, sir,” he said, �śbut I believe we may have an intruder somewhere in the building.” �śWhat�"?” Sharif straightened, but looked doubtful. �śHow can this be?” �śThe old woman found the storeroom door to the back street ajar. She claims it was closed and locked. With your permission, I want to bring in my man, Lahib, and start a thorough search.” �śIf you feel you must, then do so. And release that damn dog! If nothing else it will silence him.” Once Haleem was gone, Sharif gave his attention back to David. �śI am sure there is nothing to this,” he said by way of apology. �śThough it is well known I now choose to keep few people here, I can assure you no thief in all of Bulaq would ever dare to�"” A loud thud from the balcony cut him off, and both men looked up. Behind the mashrabiyyah screens was the distinct outline of someone scrambling to his feet. Whoever the eavesdropper was, he had apparently stumbled while attempting to duck back into the upper apartments. David bolted to his feet. �śHow do I get up�"” �ś Through there!” said the old man, pointing to a side curtain. �ś And hurry! You can cut him off before he reaches the stairwell!” David swept the heavy curtain aside and ran the empty length of a darkened hall. It was narrow, the ceiling low, the sound of pounding footsteps overhead guiding his way. One floor up, the intruder was making his own dash towards the rear of the building along a parallel hallway. If the man intended reaching the same door that got him in, then at some point he must drop to ground level. But where the hell was the stairwell that Sharif�" There! The man beat David to it by a good five strides. Having bounded down the steps, he emerged off balance�"yet avoided being caught by immediately darting around a corner David charged after him, sprinting through a series of windowless rooms, all connected by a straight line of arched openings. The visibility was minimal, his fleeing target little more than a snake-like shadow. Yet he had made gains; the intruder was clearly flagging, running out of steam. The man’s obvious goal was the back storeroom by which he initially gained entrance; but his lead was shrinking, not enough left for him to make it. Accepting this reality, he now swung around in the dim light, panting for breath as he projected his arm back towards his pursuer. A gun! David had already launched himself forward when he saw the muzzle’s bright flash. The bullet whizzed past his ear as he slammed the man backward onto a low stack of wood crates. A sharp yelp of pain accompanied the sound of the gun now skittering across the stone floor. David clung tightly as they rolled, the thrashing man surprisingly strong for his slight frame. Yet he was no serious match without his weapon. In a frenzied attempt to break free, he began to claw and gouge with his fingers�"but a hard fist to the center of his face snapped his head back, taking all the fight out of him. As David straddled the fellow, he heard loud shouts coming from the adjoining courtyard. Louder still was the baying sound of the mastiff. Christ Almighty! he thought. The animal was running free inside the building, heading straight in his direction. The last thing he needed was to have the brute tearing�" The creak of a floorboard alerted him to someone behind him. He pivoted around on his knee, catching only the briefest glimpse of a massive forearm and fist descending across his neck. It felt like being impacted by a car. Then he felt nothing at all. When he awoke, it was to a confusing mix of pain and bright light. A grim-faced Haleem was kneeling over him outside the storeroom, his lean frame silhouetted by the now open doorway to the inner courtyard. In his hand was a damp fold of cloth, one he had apparently been applying to David’s brow. �śHe took a severe blow,” he said to someone close, �śbut I expect he’ll be all right. It doesn’t appear any bones were broken.” �śHelp him sit up,” said a concerned voice, �śand we shall see.” It belonged to Sharif. �śHow are you, my friend? You’re fortunate even to be alive.” �śThat’s roughly how I feel. How�"how long was I�"” �śA few minutes, no more.” The effort of raising his head left him dizzy, and he sat for several moments, trying to sort out what exactly had occurred. Probing with his hand, he found the back of his neck and upper shoulder extremely tender�"but more painful to the touch was a puffy swelling up under his hairline. He winced as Haleem applied the wet cloth to it. �śWhoever clubbed me from behind,” he said groggily, �śhad one hell of an arm on him.” �śThen you saw him?” �śToo dark. I didn’t realize he was even there until the last moment. So what happened? They both get away?” It was Sharif who answered, his voice now somber. �śNot hardly. I’m afraid we have ourselves a messy problem to deal with.” Puzzled, David lifted his eyes and focused on the old man. He was seated on a low crate just outside the immediate spread of light. Lying on the floor by his feet was the intruder, much as he was after the fight. Ominously, a piece of dirty burlap was now draped over his face and chest. It told him the man wasn’t merely unconscious. It said he was dead. �śHow?” said a stunned David. �śHe was alive after I took him down. There’s no way I hit him hard enough to�"” �śYou didn’t. Come, see for yourself.” Haleem assisted him over, then stooped and flipped the rag aside. The stark face was frozen, the eyes wide and staring. A reddish smear attested to his broken nose, the expected result of David’s fist. What had proven lethal, however, was clearly visible lower down. It was a sickeningly deep slash across the entire front of his throat. Like a gaping second mouth, the obscene cavity was pooled with dark, clotted blood. And now David noticed something else. Lying a few feet further back was the lifeless body of the big mastiff. Sharif saw the direction of his eyes. �śThe dog was similarly killed,” he said. �śNo mean feet when you consider the animal’s breed and temperament. Whoever did this is a most serious fellow, a man deserving of respect.” He paused, gesturing with the tip of his cane. �śTake a closer look at this one’s face. Can he be the one who fired through that window last night?” David dropped to one knee, using the rough cloth to wipe blood from the man’s nose and chin. Was it the same face? The more he studied it, the surer he became. Too, he again felt that eerie sense of vague familiarity. Aloud, he said, �śI’m almost certain of it, Sharif. It’s strange, but I think I know him from somewhere.” �śYou do , my friend. Think back to three years ago�"to your midnight meeting near the gate of Bal al-Futuh.” It came to him. Yes! The Fatimid bowl. This was the man Sharif set him up with on that moonless night. He recalled the particular circumstances. The man took every precaution to preserve his anonymity, but then made the nervous mistake of lighting a cigarette just as his customer drew near. Although he cupped his hands to the small flame, it was enough to give David a faint glimpse of his face�"and as brief as it was, the image had obviously stuck in his mind. Though he knew the answer, David asked, �śIt’s the same man, right?” �ś The same.” �ś What can you tell me about him?” �ś His name is Naguib Hassan, a small-time thief and opportunist of no real account. I think we can now assume, my friend, it was you he was spying on last night, and not my son. Nothing else explains his presence here. The question is, of course, just why would this be?” Why, indeed? David wondered. Was it even remotely possible this man knew of the gold disk? Rationally, he couldn’t. The run-in with Abdel took place on the very first full night after their arrival in Egypt. No, there must be another explanation. It was Haleem who provided one. �śI believe the answer may be simple,” he said, again assisting David to his feet. �śAs Sharif says, Hassan was a street-wise opportunist, a man who lived by his wits. If he chanced to see you somewhere in Cairo, his curiosity would most assuredly be piqued, don’t you agree? After all, you once provided him with a profitable transaction. I suspect he hoped you might be the source of yet another.” This made sense. �śWhat should be of far more concern to you,” Haleem continued, �śis the identity of Hassan’s associate in all this. A man of such strength�"one who ruthlessly kills his own partner to better his own chance for escape�"is someone I think worthy of being feared.” �śIs this what you believe happened?” �śIt appears so, yes. The evidence speaks for itself. Lahib is out checking the streets as we speak. With any luck, he may find a witness who saw the fellow flee. And if not�"” He shrugged, then looked at Sharif. �śSo, what do you wish done with this miserable one’s body?” The old patriarch gave a disdainful flick of his hand. �śGet something to wrap him in,” he instructed. �śAfter midnight, dump him well outside the city.” He turned back to David. �śIf I were you, I would take Haleem’s warning to heart, my friend.” �śI intend to.” �ś Good. Then let me return to our other business. You said before all this you would consider my obligation to you met if I presented your case to the unnamed person on your list�"and this even if the person chooses to decline any meeting?” David nodded. �śThen so be it. Though I cannot guarantee the results you wish, I will speak favorably on your behalf.” �śIn light of what’s just happened,” said David, �śI would’ve guessed the opposite. Why, Sharif?” The old man’s expression was unreadable. �śIt is conceivable you might fail in your goal,” he replied, �śbut I am not prepared to bet against you. Besides, my friend, should the big devil who did this continue to follow you�"and your meeting be arranged�"perhaps Haleem and I can use the opportunity to snare the bastard in a trap. I may be old and approaching death, but I am not lacking in pride. It offends me deeply that someone thinks he can commit murder in my home with impunity. He must be taught otherwise.” He paused. �śAs to any meeting, give me until this time tomorrow, and let me see what can be done. If I’m successful, then you will be contacted with all appropriate instructions.” * * * The fan-like remnants of the setting sun still clung to the desert horizon when the white citroen returned David to Gezirah Island. Despite the lingering throb in his head and neck, he felt cautiously optimistic as he crossed the lobby and pushed for the eleventh floor. Against all logic, he hoped Sharif might somehow work out a meeting, for it really did seem an impossibility. After all, why would anyone willingly admit to having been involved in the theft and selling of illicit artifacts? Still, failure wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate. Of more immediate concern to him was Elizabeth. He glanced at his watch as he got off the elevator, wondering how she took his long absence. Not very well, he imagined. He anticipated some anger, for his note really explained nothing. He sighed as he walked down the empty hall and knocked on her door. To his surprise, it was Gobeir who abruptly pulled it open, a sudden look of enormous relief covering his round face. �ś It’s David!” he shouted over his shoulder. �śHe’s back!” Elizabeth raced into his arms. �śOh, thank God you’re all right! I’ve been half out of my mind with worry!” She pulled him inside. Confused, he saw Rashidi was also here, looking equally relieved. �śAhmed, what’s going on? What happened?” �ś That’s what we want to know, Professor. Elizabeth was convinced you were abducted. Quite frankly, Dr. Gobeir and I were beginning to think the same.” It took only a few moments for David to fully appreciate what had transpired. It wasn’t so much the brief note that panicked Elizabeth, it was the ashtray full of unfiltered cigarette butts inside his smoke filled room. It said one or more people had waited for him all day�"and after what happened last night, what else was she to conclude but abduction? Or even worse! Fearing this to be true, she phoned Gobeir in Heliopolis. �śNeedless to say,” said Gobeir, �śI reached Ahmed and we drove straight over. She told us about this�"this Abdel fellow. And for the life of me, old boy, I still don’t understand why the deuce you thought it necessary to hide it from us. Did you think us so squeamish we would back away from�"” �śThat wasn’t the reason. But you both may want to rethink your commitment once you hear what I have to say. In fact, maybe you better all sit down for this. I’m afraid things have taken a rather ugly turn.” * * * It was a somber group that finally went down to the main hotel restaurant for a late meal. To Gobeir and Rashidi’s credit, both of them appeared willing to accept�"at least for the present�"Haleem’s theory, choosing to press on with the investigation. Surprising to David, even Elizabeth seemed disinclined to alter their goal. She was tougher and more resilient than he realized, for he honestly anticipated her desire to call it quits. Perhaps what kept her going, he thought, was their shared hope Sharif might actually put them in touch with someone who knew firsthand the definitive truth about her grandfather. By mutual consent it was decided to pair off tomorrow morning into two teams; Gobeir and David to pursue a possible Coptic connection, letting Elizabeth accompany Rashidi to the Dar al Kutub, the National Library. Rashidi had earlier developed a promising lead at Cairo University. While going through the school’s research center, he came across a lengthy paper from 1960 co-authored by the late Selim Ismail and a man by the name of Mahmoud el Badri. The surname �Śel-Badri’ was relatively common, but there could be little doubt he was the man on their list. By government law, Rashidi explained, a copy of all works published inside Egypt�"along with a detailed bibliographic record of each author�"must be kept on permanent file. Even if Mahoud el-Badri never published anything else, this single work should be sufficient. It was well after eleven when they finally called it a night. As tired as David felt, there remained one more task to complete. Back in his room, he stretched out on the bed and began his first full reading of Burkhart’s ledger. Of only one thing was he absolutely certain: the gold disk, itself, did not come from Tell El Amarna. The site made no sense from several standpoints, not the least of which was the simple fact of the site’s continual excavation up to the present day. No, he thought; the sarcophagus of Alexander the Great must’ve gone some place else. But to where? And of almost equal fascination to David was the question of just how it was accomplished. To secretly remove such a massive and revered treasure from the very heart of ancient Alexandria had to have been an extremely daunting task. CHAPTER TEN Alexandria, Egypt, 71 C.E. Standing under the moon’s pale light, Satepihu heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction as his eyes swept over the shimmering, black waters beneath the narrow balcony of his private chambers. Amun had truly fulfilled His promise, he thought, for the annual Nile flood was already one of the highest in living memory. Though the hour was late, he could see the blessed inundation covering the summer-hot land had filled distant Lake Mareotis to capacity�"and thus the wide quay leading up to the temple compound from the city’s many canals was both swollen and deep. More than deep enough to serve His divine purpose. It had taken Satepihu eight long years of struggle and planning to bring his great task to fruition. The hour was now at hand, the sacred mission he undertook for Amun close to culmination. All that remained was for him to issue his final order, setting everything into motion. To this end, he turned and stepped back into his private chambers. Patiently waiting for him were the three people he most treasured, the three �Śchosen ones’ who had labored equally long and hard towards the fulfillment of Amun’s mission. The three men sat cross-legged on the marble floor, forming an arc in front of the cushioned chair reserved for the aged High Priest. Their solemn faces�"each so different in the flickering light cast by the room’s single candle�"looked up at him with deep reverence as he took his place. Satepihu inclined his head in greeting, his eyes turning as always to Nebnefer, the young scribe who was his tireless right arm over all these long years of planning. He was the first�"and unquestionably the most important�"choice made by Satepihu to join him in this great endeavor. Though each man present had been carefully selected for his ability to perform a specific function, none held more critical responsibility in the overall preparations than did Nebnefer. �śAs this will be our last gathering together,” said Satepihu, �śI wish to know where all our hard efforts have brought us. If any of you feel anything is not exactly as it should be, I must know tonight. Am I understood?” The three men inclined their heads. �śThen I will hear first from you, Paneb. Has the work progressed as well as you anticipated when last we met?” �śIt has, master,” said the oldest of the three. Not as lean as the other two men, his face and solid arms were much darker, the result of a lifetime toiling under the hot sun. �śIn truth, I believe we are ahead of the schedule Amun set before us. For this, I thank Nebnefer, for the last fifty slaves he sent to me were strong and easily trained, many of them already experienced in the art of cutting stone. I am most confident that everything will be ready.” Satisfied, Satepihu shifted his eyes to the third man. Unlike Nebnefer and Paneb, Menna was dressed in a military fashion, his coarse woolen tunic secured around his narrow waist by a wide belt of thick leather. �śAnd what have you to report?” he asked. �śIs all as it should be?” �śIt is, master,” Menna replied, a look of self-assurance on his hawk-like face. �śMy men are fully equipped and ready to serve at your command. I have trained them to the very best of my ability. Nothing more needs to be done. It took these past four years to shape them into proper soldiers, but I know they can be relied upon to perform any task I set before them.” The High Priest nodded his approval. �śI am well pleased,” he said, a rare smile touching his lips. �śNow I would hear what Nebnefer has to tell us.” He paused. �śFirstly, my young friend, tell me about the galley, itself. Has it yet left Memphis?” �ś Three days ago, master,” said the slim scribe. Though he appeared hardly more than a youth, there was no denying the strength behind his stern, ascetic features, nor the high intelligence emanating from his intense, dark eyes. �śDespite its great size, the Horus was fully loaded with grain, just as you commanded. The temple officials at the Memphis granaries were surprised, but I have since been informed your orders were obeyed without question.” �ś And how soon will the Horus arrive at our quay?” Nebnefer made a mental calculation. �śTwo more days, at most,” he said. �śThe Nile’s current is still strong.” Satepihu hesitated, but only briefly. �śThen let us set the time for three nights hence. Are we then agreed all is in readiness?” �śI can think of nothing left undone, master,” said Nebnefer. �śBy your order, fully half of our temple priests, scribes and servants were given ten days leave to visit their families in either the city or the countryside. They were happy to comply. The ones remaining are only those I most trust. With the forty men Menna will bring in after dark, we will have more than enough people to do what must be accomplished.” �śSo it shall be done,” Satepihu said to all three men. �śMay Amun’s divine blessing be upon us.” Cairo, Egypt – The present Though Saturday morning began auspiciously enough, by late afternoon David’s group of four found little cause to celebrate when they again gathered to assess their day’s progress. After considerable time spent in the Coptic Museum�"plus additional hours at the more modern Society of Coptic Archaeology�"David and Gobeir were able to strike yet one more name from the list. As had the late Dr. Wahby, a gentleman by the name of Lewis Kader Badawi also enjoyed a long association with both of these organizations, and in fact even sat on the latter’s board of directors from 1977 until his death in 1998. A review of the files left little doubt that he was the same man who worked with Wahby at Tell El Amarna. As frustrating as this was, Rashidi and Elizabeth’s findings at the National Library only underscored the tragic timing of their investigation. Mahmoud el Badri, amateur archaeologist and author of many scholarly papers, had passed away only this past February at the age of ninety-one. Barely six months ago! The arrival of Sir Edward Lanier’s return fax from England only served to further dishearten them; for though it confirmed Gobeir’s speculation about a possible family relationship between the two Stewarts�"brothers, as it turned out�"it also stated unequivocally that both Guy and Raymond had passed away four years ago in a west London retirement home. As regards the other names in Gobier’s fax, Lanier regretted having no information to offer. Their list of people had dwindled to only two viable names; two lone possibilities left by which to solve the riddle of Lionel DeCaylus. Richard Bowden and Gabriella Becatti. But which of these was old Sharif at such pains to protect? And why? The beginning of the answer came at nightfall via the phone in David’s room. As before, the messenger was Yasir Haleem�"and he wasted no time giving his instructions. �śPlease listen carefully, Professor. Can I assume you have a rented car at your disposal?” �śI do.” �śThe color?” �śDark green.” �śAnd how familiar are you with the Mosque of Amr Ibn al’As?” David paused to think. �śOnly the location,” he said. �śNever been inside.” �śThis will suffice. There are two entrances on the enclosure’s long, north wall. By ten o’clock tomorrow morning, both you and your woman companion must be parked as close as possible to the westernmost door. It is the one with a minaret to the right of the entrance. There you will be contacted. Do you fully understand?” �śYes, but�"” �śBut what?” �śI think it best I go alone after what�"” �ś That is not up for negotiation, Professor. In point of fact, her presence with you was specifically requested. Do you accept, or not?” David did. �ś Then there’s no more to say. If Allah wills�" inshallah �"I hope you find the answers you seek.” * * * On the following morning, a traffic-scarred municipal bus rattled and swayed its way south towards the suburb of Misr Al-Qadimah. The hassled driver, a man with twelve long years of experience, was patiently ignoring a noisy altercation between two of his many passengers. A less seasoned employee might be tempted to intervene in this minor fracas, but the veteran driver knew the wisdom of remaining aloof, choosing instead to merely monitor the situation through his rearview mirror and hope the commotion would eventually subside of its own accord. While taking this passive approach, he noticed a comely woman in a blue dress and matching headscarf slowly make her way towards him up the crowded aisle. In the past few years he’d come to know her well, and thus he became curious of her intention. Every Sunday morning without fail, this woman boarded his vehicle outside the north-western slum of Matariyah�"and with equal consistency her destination never varied from one week to the next. So why then, he now wondered, was she coming forward fifteen minutes before her regular stop? Being a somewhat compassionate man, it crossed his mind that perhaps she was ill, or simply confused�"yet she appeared to be neither as she reached his side. Puzzled, he asked, �śFee eh?” �ś Wa’if, minfadlak.” the woman said in a firm voice, gesturing to the side of the street. �śIftah el bab.” �ś Hena�"?” The driver stared at her, surprised by such a strange request. He knew she was a Coptic woman, so why did she want to be put off here, of all places? The nearest building of any consequence was the old mosque of�"” �ś Aywa!” she insisted. �śHena, tismah!” Despite his policy to never make unscheduled stops, he acquiesced with a weary shake of his head. This determined imraa obviously knew what she wanted. Pumping hard on the brakes, he swung over to the curb and opened the door. �ś Mshakreen awwe,” she said, thanking him for his forbearance. A choking swirl of dust and exhaust fumes kicked up as the bus departed, but the woman was already walking away, nimbly adjusting her headscarf to the glaring sunlight as she hurried towards the huge, walled enclosure off to her left. To reach it she must pass through a section of low, mud brick buildings, and there was no time to waste. By her wristwatch, it was already nine-forty, leaving her only twenty minutes to reach the opposite side of the mosque. She paid little heed to the many vendors, shopkeepers, and barefoot children in her haste to pass through. It was a squalid area by western standards, but hardly what she called total deprivation. Real poverty was something she knew intimately, for she lived with it every day of her life. Thirty-two years old, she was a practicing nurse who worked by choice in the outlying shanty settlements of the despised Zabaleen, the uncounted immigrant people living off the city’s garbage. There was true poverty! The primitive lanes widened into actual streets as she approached the mosque’s crenulated exterior walls. Here she paused, focusing her mind on the task at hand. Her instructions were clear: locate a parked green car with two Americans inside, a dark-haired man and a woman. It was ten o’clock when she started down the enclosure’s north wall. As she expected, the bricked street bordering the medieval structure was almost empty of traffic. The majority of the early faithful had already departed, not to gather again until the approach of noon. Whoever fixed the hour had chosen well. Several vehicles remained parked outside the westernmost entrance, only one fitting the description. Two passengers sat inside. Without hesitation, she strode directly towards the man behind the wheel. �śI’m Sister Leila Mahfouz,” she informed him in English, �śand I believe you’re expecting me. I’ve been instructed to serve as your guide this morning.” She opened the rear door. �śMay I?” �śBy all means,” said David. �śCan you tell us where we’re going?” �śThe Monastery of St. Mercurius,” she answered, sliding in. �śAnd we really should hurry. Mother Ghali is not someone who likes being kept waiting for�"” She stopped, momentarily silenced by the two startled faces that now spun around and stared at her. �śWhat is it?” she asked. �śIs there something wrong?” �śDid you say . . . Mother Ghali? �śYes, of course.” �ś The . . . Mother Ghali?” The nun smiled. �ś To the best of my knowledge, there is no other. Forgive me, for I assumed you both knew. And we don’t wish to keep her waiting. Although there are many who believe her a living saint, I can attest that patience is not one of her many virtues.” * * * The venerable Monastery of St. Mercurius encompassed three ancient churches; it’s enclosed grounds situated in Misr al-Qadimah, the longest settled area in all of Cairo. Bordered on the north by a vast tract of Christian cemeteries, the medieval complex was encircled by a high, mud-brick wall with only one entrance accommodating both tourists and worshippers alike. Following Sister Leila’s directions, they drove inside and parked amongst a noisy gathering of dusty taxis and off-loading buses. Here the nun ushered them through the recently restored Church of the Virgin, bringing them out to a very small�"and clearly very private�"gated courtyard adjoining a sizeable convent. Inside, a slight figure in an antique wheelchair waited for them; and it took only one look to slow David and Elizabeth in their tracks, for few people in the civilized world could fail to recognize the silver-haired woman known to virtually tens of millions as the Angel of the Zabaleen. �ś My God, it really is her,” whispered Elizabeth in shock. �śDavid, this has got to be some kind of crazy mistake!” He didn’t believe so. On the contrary, as he approached the elderly woman he recalled Sharif”s words. A person held in the very highest respect; someone whose confidence he would never violate. Now it all made perfect sense. �śGood morning, Professor Manning,” said Mother Ghali in a clear and strong voice. She extended a slim, arthritic hand, her pale gray eyes sparkling in the bright light. Though her sun-darkened face was imprinted with a web-like network of fine wrinkles, it took no imagination to see she once possessed great beauty. �śAs I suspect you’ve already surmised, I’m the former Gabriella Becatti you’ve been seeking.” He took the offered hand, careful not to put undue pressure on the misshapen fingers. �śI’m honored to meet you, Mrs. Ghali,” he said. �śWe very much appreciate your giving us a little of your time.” �ś Our mutual friend speaks well of you,” she said. �śI only pray I can be of some benefit.” She then turned to Elizabeth, smiling with unfeigned pleasure. �śAnd you, child, must certainly be the granddaughter of Lionel DeCaylus. I can see a very distinct family resemblance through the eyes and brow�"and most definitely in your shared coloring. Quite lovely! I bid you welcome.” �śYou’re very kind, ma’am.” �śNot at all, my dear. I’m delighted to meet both of you.” She gestured them towards the long bench facing her wheelchair. �śPlease, do make yourselves comfortable.” They did as she requested. �ś And you, too, Leila,” she quickly added, lifting her eyes to the surprised nun. �śWhat I have to say today is as much for your ears as theirs. It is a confession of sorts, and one long overdue.” She paused, her eyes still fixed on Leila. �śKnow that I make no apologies for what I will now reveal, but nor do I wish to go to my grave leaving false illusions about my past. I have a tale that needs to be told. Judge my youthful transgressions harshly if you must, Leila, but please have the courtesy of hearing me through. I ask no more from you�"all three of you�"than you listen with an open heart.” * * * Not quite three hundred feet east of the sunlit courtyard, a pensive Haleem stood in a shaded aisle off the nave of the Church of the Virgin, pondering Lahib’s report. Of the many cars entering the enclosure behind Manning’s rented Renault, only four were possible matches for the dark blue vehicle seen parked up the street from Sharif’s residence two nights before. It wasn’t much to work with, he knew, but at least it was something. Now he regretted not bringing more men for surveillance. Two might not be enough. He cast a dubious eye at Lahib, asking, �śIs Ali positive there are only four?” �śThat’s all,” said the young man. �śHe wrote down the license plates, like you said. I told him to stay with them until I return.” �śAnd two of them arrived with only one man inside?” Lahib nodded. Haleem was encouraged. Perhaps this might yet work. �śGo back and verify this. If true, I want those two cars watched the closest. And don’t be too obvious about it. Is Ali using his camera?” �śYes, sir.” �śThen go. Stay with him. You know what to do.” Haleem then stepped outside by way of the church’s side exit. There he lit a cigarette, concentrating his eyes on the gated courtyard marked off-limits to tourists. His vantage point gave him a clear view of the four people seated within, and he wondered just what it was the convent’s great lady was saying. True, it was none of his business. Yet, still and all, one couldn’t help but be curious. CHAPTER ELEVEN �ś My family came to Egypt in 1938,” said Mother Ghali, addressing herself primarily to David. �śI was only three years old at the time, my brother seven. Our father, Arnaldo Becatti, was a graduate of the Royal College of Art in London, a man deeply fascinated with all things Egyptian�"so much so he became very proficient in the reading of both hieroglyphics and early Coptic script. Due to his sound educational qualifications, the British Archaeological Survey hired him as an epigrapher. I mention this only in passing, for the point is my parents grew to love this country, making our stay permanent. �śWhen my father died prematurely in 1955, he did so in the knowledge his two children would have worthy careers of their own. I was then working towards a degree in Egyptology, my brother already married and a practicing engineer. The loss was a great sadness for us. For our mother, it was devastating. Not a strong woman to begin with, she never recovered from the shock. Her health went into a rapid decline, and within a matter of months she was also gone.” She imparted this double tragedy as a simple statement of fact, her voice and face precluding any expressions of sympathy. �śIn many ways,” she continued, �śI was much like my father, inheriting both his love for Egypt plus a fair portion of his artistic talents. Some of my fondest memories are of the many hours of patient instruction I took at his side, learning the technical skills of his craft.” Having said this, she lifted her right hand, turning the gnarled fingers in the bright sunlight. �śYou smile, Professor. Is it because you find it hard to believe this was once the hand of a credible draughtsman and graphic artist?” �śNot at all,” he replied. �śI was only thinking this explains the little mystery surrounding you and Burkhart’s pay ledger.” �śMystery?” �śWhy your name even appeared at all. You were still only a student during your time at Tell El Amarna, yet you were listed on his payroll. Was it because Burkhart hired you as an epigrapher?” She smiled. �śQuite correct. But there was much more to it. What really attracted me to the site was, to put it delicately, a young girl’s witless and irrational infatuation for one of her university professors. To admit this aloud after all these years is an embarrassment to me, but it must be told. Since you possess Burkhart’s records, I assume you already have Paul’s name.” �śProfessor Cameron?” �śThe same. You see, I was young and inexperienced in the ways of the world. He was a widower, a man twice my age. But when has logic and common sense ever influenced a young woman in love? When blinded by infatuation, one perceives with the heart and not the mind, a condition that can only lead to disaster.” She paused, her eyes seeming to reflect back on this long ago time. �śI honestly believed what I felt for him was reciprocated, and him simply not a man who openly expressed his deeper emotions. It never occurred to me I was throwing myself at a man with no desire for marriage�"not even when he took a sabbatical from teaching and joined Burkhart’s excavation.” She turned to Elizabeth, asking, �śDid you know your grandfather and Paul were very close?” �śIt’s something we suspected,” she replied, �śbut couldn’t confirm.” �śThey were good friends well before Tell El Amarna, my dear. Lionel visited Paul’s home here in Cairo often. When times were difficult for your grandfather, Paul would always put him up until he found work and got back on his feet. Such was their close friendship. And doubtless it was Lionel who influenced Paul’s decision to join him at Tell El Amarna that summer of 1956. �śFor myself, if Paul’s unexpected sabbatical gave me cause to question our relationship, my concerns were erased when I later received his letter. Burkhart was in need of an artist and epigrapher, and based on Paul’s recommendation the job was mine if I wanted it. Unfortunately, I chose to read far more into this than was actually there. I foolishly interpreted it to mean Paul regretted our separation, and this his way of reuniting us. No argument could convince me otherwise.” �śSomeone tried?” �śOh, yes. My brother, for one. He knew of my infatuation, and was furious to learn I intended leaving university. To his credit, he did everything he could to dissuade me�"but I was headstrong, and refused to heed his good advice. Thus it was that five days later a Nile steamer dropped me off at the village of al-Till, the debarkation point for anyone wishing to reach the site. Though I had sent word ahead of my arrival, no one met me on the docks. In retrospect, this was actually prophetic, for it wasn’t long thereafter when I finally came to know the bitter truth�"I was no more to Paul than a convenient dalliance. Oddly enough, my dear, this painful realization came to me from an unexpected source, the details of which I will return to shortly. For now, suffice it to say, scarcely two weeks after my arrival I packed up my few belongings and left on the first available boat back to Cairo.” �śAbout your brief time there,” interrupted David. �śDo you�"” The old woman’s raised hand cut him short. �śI appreciate you have many questions you wish answered,” she said, �śbut please allow me to tell this in my own way.” Her patient smile removed the sting from this firm rebuke. �śYou must trust I will answer all in due time, professor.” �śOf course, ma’am,” he said by way of apology. �śAs fate had it,” she continued, �śI wasn’t alone on my return to the city. One of Burkhart’s inner circle, a man named Bruno Haussman, was also aboard. During my time at Tell El Amarna, our paths rarely crossed. Since his function was in the acquisition and control of supplies, he frequently made forays to and from Cairo. To our mutual misfortune, one of these happened to coincide with my own hasty departure.” She hesitated in her story. �śI understand Sharif revealed to you some of Haussman’s illegal activities, is this not so?” David nodded. �śAnd did he say how Haussman met his end?” �śThe details were . . . sketchy.” �śI expect this was intentional. Sharif is most protective where old friends are concerned; and after all this time, I certainly qualify. But I digress from my story. ” As she told it, the young Gabriella’s return trip to Cairo was uneventful save for one unexpected development. Preoccupied as she was with personal problems, her feminine instincts somehow failed to alert her to a troublesome situation. Looking back, she blamed herself for not recognizing Haussman’s sudden friendliness towards her for what it was�"and by not outright rejecting his first few advances, she inadvertently encouraged him to persist. Their ship arrived in Cairo after sunset and berthed on the east bank quay of Bulaq. Due to the lateness of the hour�"and still numbed by her break-up with Paul�"she listened to Haussman’s advice to seek accommodations at a dockside hotel. He recommended the Magnus , an establishment he most frequented. Surely, he reasoned, this was far preferable to her crossing Bulaq alone after dark. Unsuspecting of his intentions, she saw no reason to disagree. Haussman wasn’t a man to waste time. Under the ruse of them later going out for a meal, he asked Gabriella to collect him in his room once she was settled. Two hours would suit him, he said, for this gave him time to attend to a trifling business matter. This agreed to, she found her room to be across the hall and one door up. Inside, a single window at the foot of her bed looked down upon a dimly-lit street of small shops�"and it was through this she observed the puzzling nature of his so-called �Śtrifling’ matter. One of the few shops still open, she saw, was that of rug merchant, and she saw Haussman standing alone by its entrance. Her curiosity was further piqued when another man came out and stood near him. Neither looked at the other, but words were definitely exchanged. Seconds later, both men were admitted through a side door into the building. Though this struck her as rather odd behavior, she assigned no particular importance to it. Only later was its significance fully appreciated. �śI eventually heard him return,” said Mother Ghali, �śfor the hotel walls were ridiculously thin. And he was whistling, which wasn’t like him at all. When I went to his room, I scarcely recognized him as the same man; he’d clearly been drinking, his hair disheveled, his shirt loose and unbuttoned�"and this someone always so fastidious in his appearance. Of the two suitcases he checked in with, the larger was pushed under the bed, the smaller opened on a chair. Visible inside the latter was the uncovered handle of a revolver. �śI tried to refuse his offer of a drink, but one was already poured in a second glass. He wanted to talk, he said, insistently pressing it into my hand. What was the harm of a small libation between friends, he asked, particularly when we were soon to go our separate ways? Since the glass contained scarcely more than a swallow, I foolishly took it rather than offend, wondering how I was going to politely extricate myself from his room. �śThat the whiskey contained a strong narcotic, I have no doubt, for the numbing effect was nearly instantaneous. I recall thinking how disorientated I was, and how uncomfortable I felt at his leering grin. The next I knew, he was making explicit references about my relationship with Paul, telling me our not-so-secret affair had provided an otherwise bored crew at Tell El Amarna with much amusement. When I appeared shocked, he only laughed, saying I surely knew of the many derisive jokes this had inspired.” Tears now brimmed the old woman’s eyes. �śSuch was the effect of the drink that I�"I didn’t immediately realize his hands were on me. I tried pushing him away, but had no strength in my arms. It was like a terrible dream acted out in slow motion. When I tried for the door, he grabbed my wrist and threw me back into the room with ease. I struck the edge of the bed as I fell, shoving it to one side. Sprawled there on the thin carpet, I could only stare up at him, unable even to cry out as he slowly unbuckled his belt and�"and�"” She paused, blinking back the tears. �śI remember he clamped a hand over my mouth, but I was incapable of screaming. Whatever the drug was, it�"” She shuddered, the retelling too painful for her to finish. Sister Leila now reached forward, impulsively covering the distressed woman’s trembling hand with her own. �śHaussman . . . he raped you?” �ś There on the floor, Leila�"like the vile animal he truly was!” Nor did young Gabriella’s ordeal end once Haussman took his pleasure. Afterwards half-carried the dazed girl back to her own room, warning her against making any pretense that the time she spent with him was anything but voluntary. It would be a foolish and futile exercise, he said; and besides, what evidence was there to suggest he did anything against her nature? Had she been beaten, her clothing torn in defense of her honor? Not hardly! And even more telling, why did none of the hotel’s other occupants hear her nonexistent screams? Seeing the young woman had no answer, a confident Haussman left her to reflect on the practical wisdom of his self-serving advice. �ś The experience was shattering,” said Mother Ghali. �śEven now, the memory of his smirking face fills me with revulsion. A sin though it be, I have no forgiveness in my heart for what he did. If given the opportunity, I believe I was capable of committing murder that night. Every fiber of my being cried out for retribution, revenge for the horror so shamelessly inflicted upon me. To simply let him walk away unscathed from this heinous act was for me tantamount to being violated yet again. This I could not allow. I remember staring at my own reflection in the bureau mirror, my hand clutching a pair of scissors�"and to this day I don’t know what I might’ve done if fate hadn’t then drawn my eyes to several blades of straw entangled in my hair. They were no longer than my finger�"and the significance of them struck me like a revelation. I knew exactly what they were! They told me Haussman’s deep secret, his vulnerability! I realized I didn’t have to shed his blood to get my revenge. There was another way. An infinitely better way!” Confused, David lifted his shoulders, needing more than this to comprehend. �śYou see,” she explained, �śat Burkhart’s excavation we kept to a strict routine where each evening was spent studying all the various finds from the day’s dig. Whatever materials were unearthed were spread out on long trestle tables for detailed examination. In the case of pottery shards, for example, joins would be made where possible; types and classifications distinguished, and finally, detailed sketches made of any items deemed worthy of permanent record. One of my duties was to create those drawings, plus assist in the careful crating of the most valuable pieces for shipment back to Cairo. To protect these fragile items, we packed them in course straw. Except for sand, it’s the cheapest and most readily available material to be found in all of Egypt�"and we always chopped it into uniform lengths of eight or nine centimeters to meet our needs.” �śRoughly the length of a finger.” �śExactly, Professor. And as I knew firsthand the sort of creature Haussman was, I didn’t doubt for a moment there were stolen artifacts stuffed inside his larger suitcase. Sometime prior to my arrival, I think he probably opened it for quick examination; then hastily shoved it back under his bed, careless to clean up those few pieces of straw that spilled onto the carpet. �śMy first thought, of course, was to notify the authorities. But would there be time? After witnessing his strange behavior on the back street, it struck me a sale was already arranged. If I didn’t act quickly, the evidence might be long gone before I could bring the police to Haussman’s room. Without actual evidence, I could no more prove him a thief than I could a rapist. This was my dilemma as the last hours of night ebbed away.” It was only with the rising sun that an answer presented itself. Mere seconds before her own planned departure from the hotel, Gabriella heard a minor commotion in the outer hall. At first it sounded to her like two people speaking in garbled voices; but when she cracked her door to look, she saw it was Haussman, alone, muttering to himself as he exited his room. If anything, he was more disheveled than before. By his sorry appearance she suspected he drank even more over the long night. Now, apparently hung over, he was perhaps seeking relief in the form of food or fresh air. It was only after he staggered down the hall did she realize he never locked his door. Whether it was an oversight, or whatever, it was an opportunity she couldn’t let slip away. Entering his room, she pulled the suitcase from beneath his bed and then hurried down to the lobby, trying to appear calm even though her heart was in her throat. Her luck held as she checked out; not only was Haussman nowhere to be seen, but the clerk didn’t notice she now carried two suitcases and not the single she had when she registered the previous night. It all seemed so easy . . . �śBut I was wrong,” said Mother Ghali. �śWhen I walked out the front entrance, I actually believed I was going to make it. How foolish of me to think it could be that simple�"for not a stone’s throw away stood Haussman. Early though it was, the street was already filling with dockworkers and trades people, but we spotted each other instantly. At first he appeared only amused. Then he must’ve seen the second suitcase, for an expression of utter rage came over his face.” When Mother Ghali paused, Elizabeth leaned forward, caught up in the drama of it all. �śSo what did you do?” Despite the obvious strain of reliving this distant memory, the old woman turned to her in surprise, almost in amusement. �ś Do , my dear? Why, I did exactly what any sane person would!” She ran like hell. Her desperate need to lose her pursuer in the crowded street was far easier attempted than done, for she quickly found the many pedestrians were more hindrance than good camouflage. Too, what should’ve been her natural advantage of youth and agility were largely negated by the burden of two suitcases. Redoubling her efforts, she pushed and shoved with more urgency, incurring angry looks from those unable or unwilling to give way. Her frustration rose, for her physical inability to force a path must inevitably lead to being overtaken. Her only hope was to somehow break away from this indifferent mass of humanity. And quickly! Her prayer seemed answered as she ducked around some stalled workman, for there on her left was an alley jutting away at a right angle from the congested river-front. She darted to it, barely avoiding collision with an old sheikh pushing a wheeled stand�"then dashed down the cobbled lane towards the next intersecting thoroughfare. Had Haussman seen her? The sound of running feet behind her said yes as she threw herself into yet another crowd. This second street was more to her liking. Not nearly as packed, it gave her considerably room to maneuver. Better yet, the traffic appeared to be all flowing one way. An unexpected exception, however, was a startled boy carrying two large geese under his arms. Suddenly confronted by a running woman�"and a foreigner, no less�"the surprised youth delayed sidestepping an instant too long. The resulting impact spun both of them around, jarring loose his two squawking charges to the amusement of those who saw. The boy’s momentary lapse cost her precious seconds, Haussman rapidly closing in on her. �śI didn’t need to look back,” she said, �śto know I completely underestimated his stamina and determination. Adding to my panic, I heard shouting up ahead where a bottleneck was developing. The people were moving slower, bunching up. With Haussman gaining ground, I could only pray for the congestion to somehow disperse. But it wasn’t to be. Construction work was underway where the next alleyway intersected the street. Part of an unfinished wall had given way, taking a section of scaffolding with it as it fell. Bricks and broken debris were tumbled everywhere. Workmen tried to clear a path, but not fast enough to suit those waiting to get by. I fought my way to the front only to be pinned against a freight carter’s wagon, its driver struggling to control his horses. It was then a panting Haussman grabbed my wrist from behind, squeezing so hard I released my hold on his suitcase. �śHis eyes were murderous, Professor�"and no one around me saw the gun he pressed into my ribs. His face said it all. In his twisted mind I was as good as dead; any resistance from me and I was certain he’d pull the trigger right there, regardless of the consequences.” She again hesitated, searching for the right words to explain what she did next. �śI guess when one is faced with the surety of imminent death, all anyone is ever really capable of are irrational acts of desperation. To this day I’m still unclear what prompted me to push Haussman’s suitcase with my foot, shoving it between the wagon’s high, wooden wheels. I do know it was no clever ruse to affect an escape. If anything, it was an action born of pure anger, a subconscious attempt to somehow deny him his victory . . .” David knew her wrong on both counts. Her survival instincts had been right on the money, for putting Haussman’s suitcase in immediate jeopardy was the most logical thing she could’ve possibly done. �śOnly God and I know my actions weren’t meant to be the instrument of his death. How could I have foreseen the restless surge of the crowd at this moment of his indecision? Nor could I predict the carter’s horses would take this moment to rear up, further rocking the overburdened wagon. It was the latter that tipped the scales in my favor, for a look of panic suddenly filled his eyes. Forced to choose between retrieving his precious booty or killing me, his greed overcame his anger. He dropped to the street, thrusting his arm and shoulder beneath the wagon’s bed. But the suitcase had slid further under than either of us knew. Frantic to reach it, he foolishly extended himself deeper just as�"as�"” The vivid memory of it brought fresh tears to her eyes. In halting words, she described her horror as the carter cracked his short whip, driving the horses forward. And Haussman also heard, for he attempted to extricate himself as the wagon lurched forward. But he wasn’t fast enough, and the solid wheel rode completely over him at an angle, crushing his upper chest and almost totally severing his arm. Pandemonium broke out as the wagon rolled ahead sufficient to expose the body. She never knew what became of the gun. Perhaps it was kicked away in the ensuing rush of curious gawkers. She only knew no one questioned her right to the suitcase as she picked it up and slipped away into the milling crowd. �śIn retrospect,” she said, �śmy big mistake was in not immediately going to the local authorities to explain what occurred. Instead, I told no one; not even my brother when I arrived at our family home. In my defense, I was in a state of shock, too shaken and confused to assess what my actual role was in Haussman’s gruesome end. Fear, guilt, humiliation; so many emotional factors came into play that I sought refuge in a kind of mental denial. Save for the fact of the suitcase secreted away in my room, I might even have convinced myself it was all a horrible dream. �śMy refusal to confront reality came to an abrupt end when the account of Haussman’s gruesome demise reached the local newspapers. It hinted at a probable ruling of accidental death, based on evidence and testimony so far gathered. However, it concluded by saying the official investigation would remain open, for it was hoped more eyewitnesses might yet come forward. As it turned out, none ever did, but the possibility so frightened me that I finally opened the suitcase. I needed to reassure myself his death sprang solely from his own innate greed and wickedness. And in this I wasn’t disappointed. Inside, carefully packed in straw, were four exquisite alabaster statuettes. All were clearly identified by cartouches as being of Queen Nefertiti. The question then became, whatever was I to do with them?” Her solution was to do nothing. As days passed and became weeks, her silence proved an enveloping trap with no apparent escape. Would the shame and horror of her rape be lessened by telling the police? She thought not. Her entire world consisted of a close-knit European community living inside a foreign capital, so why submit herself to the gossip and notoriety which must surely follow? Nor was there any guarantee the authorities would even believe her. She could produce the pillaged artifacts, but what did she have to support her allegation of rape? Was it not more plausible to believe she and Haussman were both thieves, and his death no accident at all? It seemed a losing proposition from all angles. No, she concluded, the statuettes must remain hidden away, the truth kept secret forever. Having told what for her was the most traumatic part of her story, Mother Ghali now disclosed the balance rather quickly. At the urging of her brother, the young woman re-entered the university that fall. Though she worked hard and eventually received her degree, she found her former passion for ancient studies was greatly diminished. Instead, her enthusiasm took an entirely new direction, one that ultimately became so fulfilling as to consume the rest of her days. His name was Dr. Tadrus Ghali. She first became aware of the dedicated, young Egyptian physician through Coptic friends at the university. A gifted and somber man, Tadrus Ghali was much respected for his tireless work with Cairo’s destitute�"most particularly with the impoverished Christian immigrants known as the Zabaleen then arriving in ever-increasing numbers from the villages of Upper Egypt. Existing in squalid shantytowns on the outer fringes of the city, they came to look upon Dr. Ghali as a true godsend. And so he become for Gabriella, as well. Inexorably drawn to this compassionate soul from the moment of their first meeting, she was both awed and humbled by his selfless nature, and in him she finally realized the love and purpose she sought in life. They were eventually married, though few attended the ceremony. Neither her brother nor Tadrus’ family approved of the union. In fact, just days after the wedding, a lawyer sent by her brother delivered a cash settlement on her share of their parent’s home. It was his way of saying she was no longer a part of his life. As upsetting as this was, however, some good came from this estrangement, for she and Tadrus used the money to establish their first modest clinic in the northeastern slums of Matariyah. �śIn those days, Professor, there was no government aid to the very poor as we now occasionally receive. No medical or educational facilities, no provisions of any kind to alleviate their suffering. We relied solely on the charity of private citizens�"and this when Egypt was experiencing great economic strife. It was a constant struggle to procure even the most basic of medicines. And too, I recall the terrible cost to his own health my beloved Tadrus paid just to keep the clinic open from one week to the next. I assisted him in his work to the best of my abilities, of course, even becoming a competent nurse and teacher. But there were only so many hours in each day, never enough to meet the need. Short of begging in the streets from merchants and shopkeepers, from where was the money to come? The despair and physical drain on my husband eventually became so great that I feared for his very life. It was at this point I finally accepted what must be done. By only one means could I save both him and our poor mission. ” �śThe four statuettes?” She sighed. �śBecause of Haussman, I knew exactly where to go and who I must see. The Magnus was hardly a place I could forget. Close to seven years had passed, yet I found nothing changed. I even recognized the rug dealer as the same shadowy figure I saw from my window on that long ago night. As I’m sure you’ve surmised, it was Sharif Khafaghi. The shop was merely a front for his real business. When I showed him one of the four pieces in his back room, it wasn’t difficult for us to reach an agreement.” The old woman paused; then said, �śPlease believe my beloved Tadrus had no part in what I did,” she said. �śHe was totally blameless, for he never knew of their existence. I told him the money was an unexpected donation from an old acquaintance of my late father. Understand, for me to willing dispose of artifacts onto the black-market went against everything I had been taught, yet how was I to reconcile such high idealism with the ugly reality of ragged children living in filth and despair? In the face of this kind of obscenity, I have no regrets for what I did.” �ś Nor should you,” whispered Sister Leila as she now knelt beside the wheelchair. �śWhat you did was no sin,” she said, speaking for all of them. �śYou acted out of love and compassion�"and when I think of all the thousands of lives you’ve helped over these many years I can only thank a merciful God you were there for us . . .” Mother Ghali smiled gratefully at the younger woman, and when she finally turned back to David there was an inner peace in her lined face not previously seen. �śIt was only after Tadrus passed away in 1983 that I was forced to sell the remaining three statuettes; for it was in this period the fellahin from the countryside began flooding into Cairo by the tens of thousands, straining all of our overburdened facilities to the breaking point. Though Sharif will deny it, he paid far more for each than I had any right to expect. I know this to be true�"just as I know he is responsible even to this day for a great many of the anonymous donations our missions receive.” Somehow this didn’t surprise David. �śFrom the very first sale,” she said, �śI’m sure Sharif somehow knew exactly where the money was going. Without his generosity, much of what we’ve accomplished since Tadrus’ death wouldn’t have been possible. Thus I could hardly refuse listening to his request that I speak with you�"though to his credit, he put no pressure upon me to agree. The decision was entirely mine, and I must admit my first instincts leaned towards not doing so.” �śYet you did,” said David. �śMay we ask what changed your mind?” �ś Two reasons,” she replied. �śFirstly, I thought it was probably my last real opportunity to ease my conscious before meeting my maker. After all, honest confession is always good for the soul. And secondly,” she added, now smiling at Elizabeth, �śit was because of you, my dear. When Sharif informed me you were the woman with Professor Manning, I knew there was simply no way I could deny you.” �ś Me?” Elizabeth blinked. �śI�"I don’t understand.” �ś You will recall I earlier omitted telling what finally made me accept Paul never intended marrying me. That �Śunexpected source’ I referred to was none other than your grandfather. It was Lionel who took me aside at Tell El Amarna, telling me in the gentlest manner possible that I truly had no future with Paul. As close as these two men were, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to stand by and see me so ill-used and deceived�"even if telling me the truth meant losing a long friendship he valued highly. This was the sort of man your grandfather was. He spoke to me from the depths of his heart�"like a troubled father would to a wayward daughter�"and this is something I have never allowed myself to forget.” Mother Ghali sighed, moving her head in obvious sadness. �śIt is a deep sorrow to me that I never learned of Lionel’s tragic death in Alexandria until roughly forty years after the fact. Ironically, this knowledge came to me only when I was invited to attend a small memorial service in the late nineties for Paul, held at the American University. As a result, I doubly grieved that day, for I had to accept I could never repay your grandfather’s great kindness. Thus when I heard from Sharif of some absurd evidence linking Lionel to looting at Burkhart’s dig, I saw this as the last chance I would ever have to finally square a long overdue debt. Painful though it promised to be, how could I, of all people, not give the truth to Lionel’s granddaughter? Believe what I tell you, my dear, when I say he was a good and decent man. Any evidence to the contrary is�"simply put�"nothing more than a patent lie! He was as far removed from the likes of a Bruno Haussman as day is to night. Do I make myself perfectly understood?” �śLoud and clear,” beamed a smiling Elizabeth. The happiness in her voice belied her welling tears. �śAnd thank you. I can’t tell you how very much I needed to hear this.” David knew better than anyone what this meant to her. But he picked up on something else, as well. �ś Excuse me, ma’am, but did you just say you were invited to the memorial service?” He could think of only one person who would’ve known of her early affair with Paul�"or, for that matter, the circumstances surrounding Lionel’s death. �śIs it possible the invitation came from Paul’s daughter?” The old woman gave a quick nod. �śIndeed, it did,” she said. �śWhich now reminds me, Professor, you have more questions you wish answered. Since you’ve been patient enough to hear me out, please feel free to ask whatever you wish.” David reached for his notepad. �śIf I may, let’s start there with Ruth Cameron.” CHAPTER TWELVE Haleem wasn’t the only one enjoying an unobstructed view of the four figures seated inside the convent courtyard. Had he simply glanced up and across to the adjacent Church of St. Shenute, he would’ve seen another watching with equal interest from a high window. Standing alone in the second-floor baptistery, Heikal drummed his fingers lightly on the stone sill, wondering what to make of this curious development. The frail occupant of the wheelchair was unmistakably Oum Ghali, which only increased his puzzlement. Since this cozy little gathering was obviously meant to be clandestine�"for why else the odd method of their arrival?�"it only followed that whatever the old woman was telling Manning must be important to his investigation. Even critical? Heikal’s instinct said yes. But it presented a challenge�"and not helped any by his lack of time. He was already a full day late placing the promised call to Anfushi Park. What he needed was worthwhile information to help soften the bad news of Hassan’s inexplicable debacle. Oristano wasn’t the sort who took failures lightly. He lowered his gaze, attempting to dissect what appeared to be an impossible task. Perhaps if he�" Ah, now what have we here? He spotted a more immediate problem, and his jaw tightened as he focused his eyes on the lean, grizzle-faced man on the grounds below. This was definitely one of the two men who drove Manning out to Bulaq. So, what is this old sheikh up to? he wondered, pulling back from the window. This must be checked out. More curious than alarmed, Heikal retraced his steps back down to the main floor. Since no one saw him dispatch the fool Hassan�"not even Manning�"there was no one to point a finger at him in this or any crowd. He moved out onto the church steps, making way for incoming tourists and worshippers. If anything, the enclosure parking area was even fuller than before. He looked to his right. The old sheikh hadn’t moved from his spot, though he did appear to occasionally glance back towards the main entrance. Now why is this? Heikal scanned in that direction, noting for the first time the white Citroen parked off to one side. Was it there when he arrived? If so, he missed it. Two questionable men were also in evidence. Both were considerably younger, one a likely candidate for the older man’s driver of two nights before. The other fellow was less obvious, shorter, and much thinner. But neither seemed to be doing much of anything. Or were they? He watched as the skinny man slyly raised a camera from around his neck and snapped a picture of someone getting into a car�"one similar to Hassan’s blue Fiat. So that’s it! Now he understood the game. And the danger! He cursed under his breath. Even dead, the idiot Hassan was causing him nothing but trouble. But the mistake was made. The real problem was the camera. Was he also photographed when he drove in? Probably so. This left him only one solution. Heikal formulated a plan as he walked to the further end of the parking lot. First and foremost, he needed a disguise of sorts to mask his features. If his face was already pegged to the Fiat, which seemed likely, then he needed a way to get within striking distance. Also, it would be necessary to create a minor diversion; a means to separate these men, if only for a moment or two. He found the answer to both his needs in a parked taxi. The owner sat behind the wheel, smoking with obvious impatience as he awaited the return of his wandering fare. Not only was he wearing a checkered ghota, but directly behind him was an empty tour buss, effectively blocking the taxi from general view. This would suffice nicely. He strode to the open window, letting the driver turn to him with casual interest before sending a hard, right fist squarely into his jaw. Knocked cold, the man went totally limp, his head lolling back against the seat. Heikal snatched off the headdress, then jerked the unconscious figure forward, jamming his face down against the steering wheel. The uninterrupted blare of the car’s horn drew attention even as the big man slipped between the bus and the enclosure wall. When he emerged seconds later around the other end, the stolen cloth was on and wrapped in such a way as to cover all but his eyes. The diversion was already having its intended effect, he saw, for the cameraman’s curious partner was now jogging over in response to the noisy commotion. They crossed paths, each heading in opposite directions. He wasted no time approaching the second man, for a quick glance towards the Church of the Virgin told him he must finish this without delay. Manning and the others had apparently finished their meeting. The woman was still in conversation with the nun and Oum Ghali, but Manning was already out of the courtyard and walking towards the old sheikh. Heikal went straight at his unsuspecting target, seizing him by the throat. He wrenched the camera from him, breaking the thin strap�"then slammed the young man’s head hard against the brick wall. The man’s thin legs crumpled beneath him as he slid to the ground. Camera in hand, he ran for Hassan’s car. It was the sound of shouting that jerked Haleem’s head around. Lahib was running across the cobbled yard to aid a fallen Hakim. What in Allah’s name was�" Then he saw a big man scrambling into a dark car and it all fell into place. �ś Over there !” he cried to David, pointing at the blue Fiat. �śIt’s him! That’s the man!” David didn’t need to be told which man he meant. Haleem grabbed his arm as he ran by. �śCome on, Professor! My car’s the closest. You drive!” They both ran to the Citroen. David jumped behind the wheel and turned the ignition. When the engine caught, he quickly reversed out of the parking spot. Ahead of them the Fiat was already through the entrance. Shifting down into drive, he floored the pedal, the Citroen’s tires squealing on the hot stone paving as it leaped forward in pursuit. The big man had a good hundred yards on them. Before covering two blocks, however, the Fiat’s lead began to shrink. Either the Citroen was faster, David thought, or the man was intentionally slowing. Inexplicable as this was, it appeared to be the latter. But why? It was almost as if he wanted them to�" Further up, a bright red light suddenly began to flash, wooden arms scissoring down at an upcoming rail crossing. A long freight train began whistling its steady approach from their left, and David now realized what the man was about. The clever bastard had a good reason for slowing�"and near as he could judge, his gutsy tactic stood a good chance of working! Haleem was grinning, for he still hadn’t caught on. �śLooks like we have him, Professor!” he exclaimed. �śHe’ll have to turn either one way or the other.” David shook his head. �śWrong. He’s trying to outfox us . . .” �ś What? No. He’s blocked , I tell you!” �śLook again.” Anticipating the man’s sudden acceleration, David jammed his own foot down, as well. To Haleem’s amazement, the Fiat blasted straight through the descended barriers not a hundred feet in front of the fast-moving train, showering sections of broken debris in every direction as it cleared the tracks. �ś By the sacred balls of�"” Haleem’s face drained of all color, now realizing David’s intention to follow. The advancing freight train had more that halved the distance to the crossing, the locomotive now less than forty feet away. �śYou can’t make it, Professor!” But they did. Rocketing over the tracks with scarcely a car length to spare, the Citroen came down with a jarring thud, straining the shocks to their limit. Haleem swore a long string of vivid expletives�"yet seemed more relieved to be alive than concerned for his car. David immediately attempted to brake, for he saw the Fiat had already turned left at the near intersection. But the Citroen carried too much speed to hold the turn. Out of control, it slid sideways off the road, stalling out as it came to rest in the powdery sand of an empty lot. Choking dust billowed through the open windows. �ś Are you trying to kill me?” David restarted the engine; then pulled back out onto solid pavement. Much further down, the Fiat was making yet another quick left, this time disappearing into an old industrial area of packed cinder-block structures. Haleem also saw. Having so far survived in one piece, the older man’s blood was now up. He braced himself as David swerved through the turn, declaring, �śThis time we have him for sure! This crazy bastard can’t hide. I know this place. Half the streets are blind ends.” And a helluva lot narrower! realized David, wondering what the man’s new tactic might be. He soon learned. In a series of first braking, turning, then again accelerating, the man was taking every lane he came upon, desperate to lose them among the mass of colorless, single-story buildings. �ś There!” cried Haleem thumping his fist onto the dash in glee as the Fiat made yet another careening turn. �śNow the fool’s trapped himself for sure! This one has no exit!” David followed, seeing it was so. A solid wall closed off the end. Like an ancient cul-de-sac, this narrow alley went nowhere. But the Fiat wasn’t slowing. Instead, the man had yet one more surprise left in him. It was only at the last possible second that the brake lights blinked on, the Fiat suddenly swerving hard to the right and smashing out of sight through two partially closed wooden doors. An almost simultaneous sound of crashing metal followed, telling them the car didn’t get much further. David also braked, skidding the Citroen to a stop twenty feet back from the jagged opening. Both men scrambled out, Haleem now holding a revolver as they rushed through the splintered remnants of the garage doors. The back end of the Fiat was visible in the dark interior. The driver’s door was open, a tall figure not only out, but heaving something towards them. �ś Look out!” They both ducked as a flying metal box struck the wall behind them, spilling tools onto the dirt floor. The packed earth was heaped with everything from worn tires, old greasy crankshafts, and stripped engines�"and too, David saw, a dazed teenage boy in a state of shock. He had obviously been working with an oxy-acetylene torch near the doors when the Fiat burst through. The Fiat had narrowly missed him, slamming full-tilt into a partition running three-quarters the building’s width. Pulling off his protective goggles, the frantic youth began screaming in Arabic, pointing at his fallen torch, his eyes wide in terror. �śWhat’s he saying�"?” �śThere are drums of old gasoline back there! They use them for cleaning parts!” David saw and smelled the pools of liquid working rapidly across the hard ground. It was gushing though the ruptured partition, heading straight for the burning flame of the worker’s dropped torch. No wonder the youngster was frantic. Beyond, he could just make out the outline of the big man moving even deeper into the dark building. �ś Come on!” screamed Haleem. Both he and the young man were already running. �śIt’s going to blow!” David bolted after them. Directly behind, he heard the thin river of fuel ignite with a thunderous whomp as it made contact with the torch. In his mind’s eye he saw the flame now racing back towards the storage area until it�" The entire building exploded. Propelled forward to the street, David narrowly escaped the enormous eruption of flame that burst from the shattered doors. Being closer than the other two, he caught far more of the heat and blast wave. He rolled away from it, covering his face with his hands to protect himself from the shower of particles rained down. When he got to his feet, Haleem grabbed his arm, half dragging him towards the Citroen. �śGet in,” he urged, opening the passenger door. �śQuickly!” �śWhere’s the boy?” asked David. �ś Safe. Still running, I think. We must leave�" and fast! ” Haleem took the wheel. Engine started, he threw it into reverse, backing rapidly away. David watched the retreating conflagration through the windshield until they reached the connecting street. Here Haleem spun the vehicle around and tramped on the pedal. Only when he believed them in the clear did he say, �śA terrible way to die, but he brought it on himself. That crazy devil only got his due. It’s over, Professor.” * * * It was two hours after sunset when David finally drove alone to the suburb of Heliopolis to confer with Gobeir and Rashidi on the day’s extraordinary events. The long delay was unavoidable, for other matters demanded his immediate attention. But at least he didn’t leave them totally in the dark. He called Gobeir three hours earlier from a public phone at the Sheraton, imparting the bare bones of what took place. Now the specific details must be told, and this something best done in private. He did so over strong coffee in Gobeir’s book-lined study. �śAt this point,” David concluded, �śI have to agree with Haleem. It’s almost a given the man was killed outright in the explosion and fire. He and Sharif intend to verify this through their police contacts, but that will take a few days. Until then, all they have to work on is the Fiat’s licence plate�"and there’s no real guarantee that’s going to identify him.” �śYou’re certain it was the same man who killed Hassan?” asked Rashidi. �śThe one with the knife?” �śConsidering his size and the description of the car, I don’t think there’s any real doubt of it.” Gobeir shook his head, clearly troubled by it all. �śWell, I can tell you one thing, old boy,” he said, �śit’s a bloody miracle nobody else was injured or killed. I’m familiar with the area. The Misr al-Qadimah is almost exclusively a Coptic community�"which means if this happened on any day but Sunday, that street and garage would’ve been filled with people. We’re just damned lucky the only innocent bystander in all this was that lone worker.” �ś No argument there, Lewis. At most, he suffered a few bruises. The poor kid’s probably more in shock than anything else. Considering the speed at which everything happened, I can’t imagine he really knows who or what he saw.” �śNo, I suppose not. More luck there, I’d say. And even if he does, you weren’t the one who did all the damage, now were you?” He shrugged. �śBut that’s done and over with. Tell me more about this business of Ruth Cameron. You say Mrs. Ghali actually knows her whereabouts?” David passed on Rashidi’s offer of a second coffee. �śIt seems the two of them have corresponded off and on since about the time of Paul’s death,” he said. �śHer name is now Ruth Lefebvre, by the way. She married a French exporter from Marseille, living for a time in Europe. When he passed away about eleven years ago, she moved back to Egypt and is now living in Alexandria�"or more precisely, the suburb of Al Gami. At least she was as of three months ago.” Gobeir pursed his lips in thought. �śThree months, you say? Well, unless you see things different, I don’t see we’ve any real choice but to take our investigation to Alexandria.” He looked over to Rashidi. �śDo you agree, Ahmed?” �śMost definitely, sir.” David reached into his pocket. �śI’m glad you both feel this way,” he said, �śbecause that’s one of the reasons I was late getting out here. I know its damn short notice, but I took the liberty of stopping at Midan Ramses and booked the four of us on tomorrow morning’s ten o’clock Rapide to Alexandria.” He handed two of the train tickets over the desk. �śI agree with you. As I see it, there’s nothing left here in Cairo to investigate. The last unaccounted name remaining on the list was Richard Bowden�"and according to Mother Ghali, we can stroke him off right now. She recalls him as being a competent archaeologist, but also the oldest man at Burkhart’s dig.” �ś So I guess it’s settled,” said Rashidi. �śWe can be ready, Professor. I hate to say it, but realistically, this Ruth Lefebvre looks like our last hope of ever solving this riddle. Shall we stop around early and pick you up?” David saw no advantage to this. �śMaybe it will save time if we just meet at the station,” he said, getting to his feet. �śElizabeth’s already begun packing. This has all been a kind of nightmare roller-coaster ride for her. Despite finally hearing something positive on her grandfather, I don’t know if she can take another shocker like today.” �śAnd understandably so,” commiserated Gobeir. �śTwo men dead inside of a couple of days, both under violent circumstances. Then again, if Haleem’s analysis is correct, maybe we can start putting this whole ugly experience behind us. Which reminds me, since we’ve no idea how long we’ll be in Alexandria, shouldn’t you make some kind of arrangement for keeping in touch with Khafaghi’s people on this?” �śIt’s taken care of, Lewis. That’s the other reason I was late. I spent some time at the museum with Omar Bayoumi. I obviously didn’t tell him anything about what happened in the past forty-eight hours, but he now knows I’ll be out of Cairo for a time and intend contacting him every few days. Haleem and Sharif will use him as a conduit if they come up with anything they feel I should know about.” Gobeir also stood. �śThen let’s do it.” * * * Thirteen miles further to the northeast, a very much alive Sabir Heikal waited patiently in the night darkness outside the dusty slums of Matariyah. His cold, slate-colored eyes were concentrated on the only building of any significance among the low sprawl of bleak shanties. Since sunset, a single lantern had flickered inside. Now it was extinguished�"and a faint smile crossed his thick lips. His long wait was over. He began his stealthy approach, ignoring the foul smells assailing his nostrils as he instinctively picked the least obstructed path between him and the small clinic. The odor of abject poverty wasn’t unfamiliar to him. Somewhere close in the inky dark, he knew, was a huge maqlab, a mound of rotting garbage and rubbish whose over-ripe scent hung in the night air like the smell of death, itself. He ignored it as a minor annoyance Something else he chose to ignore was the dull pain in his left shoulder. The bruised muscles still ached from his charging impact with the rear door of the garage. He considered it a small price to pay for being alive. Instead of killing him, the enormous outward thrust of the explosion had actually assisted in his timely escape, for it was the combined force of both that threw him out into the back alley, well clear of the roiling inferno. But this was past history. Now his thoughts were focused entirely on the woman. Trailing Manning’s guide back to this warren of filth had proven ridiculously easy. Not forty-five minutes after his escape, he hailed a cab just two blocks east of the fire, returning him to the main street outside the old monastery. There his patience and audacity were eventually rewarded. The woman came out at exactly five o’clock and boarded a municipal bus making a regular stop. Unnoticed by her, he also got on. As Heikal now drew alongside the clinic, he paused, taking a last look around. By his wristwatch it was just ten minutes before midnight, giving him ample time to accomplish his ends. Before dawn, he would call Oristano with useful information, of this he was certain. An hour alone with this woman and she would be begging to tell every word that passed between Manning and Oum Ghali. And over the rest of the night? Heikal unsheathed his dagger in the dim moonlight, his anticipation growing with each breath. It occurred to him he never actually saw the color of this woman’s hair beneath her headscarf. Would it be hoping too much, he wondered, to find it had a reddish hue? Probably. Yet she was unquestionably a most fortuitous gift. Not so young and beautiful as was the whore Nayra, to be sure, yet certainly comely enough to appease his torturing demon. CHAPTER THIRTEEN Sal Oristano relaxed on a comfortable bench, rather enjoying his view of the stately palms and spacious grounds of Alexandria’s Anfushi Park. The sun’s rays were still pleasantly warm, playing off the tailored lawns and highlighting the tall granite columns marking the eastern entrance of the Ras el Tin Palace. He glanced at his watch as he lit a cigarette, noting it was already twenty minutes past one o’clock. He was no stranger to Alexandria. Several generations of his family were once part of the foreign establishment of Italians, Syrians, Jews, Greeks, Lebanese and Cypriots who once dominated Alexandria’s business community. Collectively called Levantines by the British, they had migrated en masse from Egypt shortly after the coming of Nassar’s revolution. Oristano’s parents were among these emigrants. Unlike the vast majority of Italians who fled Egypt in the mid-sixties, however, Sal’s father chose not to return to his native Italy. Instead, he relocated his small family in Greece, for he found the business climate there more to his liking. Nor did he sever all his intricate�"and not always legal�"business connections with Egypt, for he possessed the wisdom and foresight to simply bide his time until the excesses of Nassar’s new nationalism had run its course. Long range, this perceptive decision proved to be a profitable one, for his eldest son now reaped the rewards of his patience. Not only did this eventually pave the way for many of Sal’s present legitimate interests, but it also gave him the opportunity and contacts necessary to establish himself in the lucrative black-marketing of ancient artifacts. Oristano again looked at his wrist. By his estimate, the Rapide out of Cairo likely arrived at Ramleh Station some fifty minutes ago, meaning he could expect to see Heikal at almost any moment. While thinking on this, he saw with mild annoyance that the girl, Angela was now sauntering back towards him across the freshly mown grass. By the tilt of her head and the slump of her pretty shoulders she was less than thrilled with the day’s progress. Her apparent disappointment in the park’s subtle pleasures came as no surprise, for he held no illusions about her intellect or appreciation of beauty. Like a spoiled child needing endless diversions, she was quite incapable of entertaining herself for more than ten minutes at a time. But her shortcomings no longer bothered him, for though her sexual talents were considerable, he’d already decided they must part company. He, too, required fresh diversions�"and her childish ways were fast become an irritant to his sensibilities. She curled up beside him, her look weary and pouting. �ś Back so soon, my pet?” he asked pleasantly. It was probably expecting too much to think she might have actually learned anything during her short walk through the ornate halls of the Ras el Tin. �ś There’s nothing to do here,” she replied with a sigh. �śAnd I’m hungry.” He put his arm around her, brushing back the dark curls clinging to her sweaty brow. �śI take it you didn’t enjoy touring the palace grounds?” �ś It was okay, I guess,” she said. Her eyes then shifted to the dock area, seeking out the young deckhand stationed close to the pay phone. As her gaze lingered there, she absently bit at her lower lip. �śPauley says all of this park was an island a long time ago. Do you believe that? Faro, I think he called it . . .” �ś Pharos Island,” he corrected, smiling in amusement. He was well aware of Angela’s lustful designs on Pauley, playfully tempting him whenever she thought he wasn’t watching. Now he intended to exploit this situation to his own purpose. Raising his arm, he gestured to the muscular youth. Pauley immediately sprinted over, already thoroughly briefed on the small favor he was to perform for his boss. Once the girl was turned over to his care, his job was to put her aboard a plane back to Greece. If he could coax a few hours of lovemaking out of her, then he had his employer’s complete blessing. �ś You need something, sir?” Oristano tossed him the set of keys belonging to the rented car parked by the wharf. As they both knew, Angela’s few possessions from the Medea were already packed in its trunk. �śHow about you take our poor, starving girl out for a bite to eat,” he said to the eager youth. �śThink you can show her a good time?” �ś Yes, sir!” �ś And maybe find her a nice stretch of beach somewhere, as well. Angela likes beaches, don’t you, my dear?” The girl fairly flew onto Pauley’s arm, delighted at the prospect. No less happy�"and infinitely grateful�"the young man grinned in appreciation before hurrying off with his prize. Oristano watched their departure with amused indifference until he noticed Heikal approaching along a gravel walk, at which point he dismissed the girl from his mind as if she’d never existed. �ś Your timing is excellent, Sabir,” he said amiably, inviting the big man to join him on the bench. �śSo, where are our friends now?” Heikal settled himself before replying. �ś They took four rooms at the Cecil on the Corniche at 26 July Street. Mine is two floors below. They were just entering the hotel restaurant when I left, so they might be driving out to Al Gami as early as another hour or two.” Oristano only nodded. Since Heikal’s early morning call, he’d given the entire problem of surveillance considerable thought. Beyond the fact that the daughter of Paul Cameron was someone Manning found of great interest, there was next to nothing around which to make plans. According to Heikal’s information, Cameron might well be the key to everything. Clearly, Manning saw a connection between him and the gold disk�"and just as obviously, he expected to learn more from the man’s daughter. Now the trick was going to be learning exactly what was going on in Manning’s head. Nothing less would suffice. There was only one sure means of doing this. �ś Sabir, I believe it’s time we carried this a step further. How difficult will it be for you to gain entrance to the good professor’s room without his suspecting?” �ś Shouldn’t be any problem.” Oristano removed a clear plastic envelope from his shirt. Visible inside was a tiny transistorized listening device, one designed specifically for telephones. �śI know you’ve installed these before. Once you get it placed, just return to your room and dial his number. The initial ring turns on a transmitter-receiver. From then on you’ll be able to listen in on all his calls�"plus, of course, any conversation taking place inside his room, whether the phone is in use or not.” �ś In other words, voice activated . . .” �ś Precisely.” Heikal slipped it into his breast pocket. �śI’ll need listening equipment. I assume you’ll want tapes made?” �ś Definitely. What’s your room number.” �ś 418.” �ś I’ll have someone from the Medea bring everything over within the hour. Set it up as soon as they leave for Al Gami.” �ś Consider it done.” Oristano now placed a firm hand on Heikal’s arm, preventing him from getting to his feet. His face was no longer pleasant. �śI’ll have no more screw-ups,” he warned. �śI cautioned you before on this. Do not underestimate Manning again! Hopefully, he believes you were killed�"so don’t dissuade him of that belief, understand? Using Hassan was a regrettable mistake, one that almost cost us dearly. We can’t afford the luxury of making another!” * * * David reached Ruth Lefebvre by phone, arranging a meeting at her home. The woman was at first confused by his lack of specifics, but seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect of meeting the granddaughter of Lionel DeCaylus, a man she claimed to remember well. Six o’clock this evening would suit her just fine. Twenty minutes before the appointed hour, David pulled their rented car off the main highway onto the first of three paved exits leading into the resort suburb of Al Gami. The afternoon traffic through Alexandria’s western industrial center of Meks had proven less difficult than anticipated. They were going to be early, but he doubted she would mind. Off to their right they caught occasional glimpses of the Mediterranean, patches of blue filtering through lush groves of palm and banyan. Bathed in sunlight, the sea was only marginally darker than the cloudless sky, making it hard to delineated where one left off and the other began. Following Ruth’s verbal instructions, he turned onto a winding lane where older, European style homes fronted the ocean, eventually easing the car through a narrow gate. A hundred feet up a gravel drive stood a bricked, two-story house surrounded by tall trees. Once he parked, a tiny, bird-like woman appeared in the ivy-shaded doorway. Smiling, she waved to them in greeting. �ś Please, do come inside,” she called in a clear voice. When all introductions were out of the way, the five of them sat in her quaint sitting room while she poured tea from a polished silver service. Her delicate hands were long-boned and aristocratic, the paleness of her complexion suggesting she only rarely ventured beyond the walls of her secluded home. Behind her cushioned chair was a high casement window facing the sea, though no breeze stirred the thick brocade curtains. For a woman whose prime interests seemed to center almost entirely on matters of trivia, David found the clarity of her memory nothing short of amazing�"so much so that he quickly found himself questioning the accuracy of her distant recollections. After a few pleasantries, he came straight to their reason for being there. �śPerhaps you could start by first telling us something of when and how you first knew Lionel, Mrs. Lefebvre. I’m sure you were very young at the time.” �ś Certainly. But please, do call me Ruth. No need to be so formal.” �ś Ruth, then,” he obliged. �ś It was back in Cairo, of course,” she began. �śI was perhaps eleven, or so, when Mr. DeCaylus first took to visiting with my father. We lived just off the American University grounds, don’t you know. As to how they first met and became such good friends, I really can’t say. I suspect it was simply their shared love of archaeology. And later, of course, there was the period they spent together at Tell El Amarna�"but of that time, I’m afraid I really can’t give any firsthand information.” David didn’t like the sound of this. �ś And why is that, Ruth?” �ś Well, put quite simply, I wasn’t in the country. You see, in the fall of 1955 my father sent me to a private girl’s school in the north of England. It was only my absence that afforded him the opportunity to take time off from teaching and indulge himself with Mr. Burkhart. When I returned to Egypt some ten months later, it wasn’t to Cairo, but here to Alexandria.” �ś Early summer of l956 then?” �ś The first week or so in July, as I recall. Father was still on his sabbatical and had just purchased this very house. He wanted to devote more time to his studies, don’t you see, and to his writing, as well, which was always his great love. As much as he enjoyed the bustle of Cairo, he needed a place to escape the summer heat. Though he never said as much, I do think the weeks he spent at Tell El Amarna finally put to rest any latent desire to live the life of an archaeologist.” So far her memory coincided with the sparse information from Burkhart’s ledger. Since both men left the site in the last week of June, this explained where Cameron went and why . But what of Lionel? Much now hinged on his next question. �ś Ruth, can you recall when it was you last saw Lionel?” �ś Oh, definitely,” she replied without hesitation. �śIn fact, it was right here in this house, about five weeks after my return. I remember it very well because�"” �ś In August? You’re certain?” His interruption briefly startled her. �ś Why, of course, young man. As I was about to say, I remember it well because it occurred on the day following my sixteenth birthday party, don’t you see. August 4th. Lionel and another gentleman spent the better part of the day visiting with my father. I served lemonade and leftover cake right out there on the veranda. It was a real treat for me, as you can imagine, because I hadn’t seen Lionel for well over a year.” She paused, her smile fading. �śThen, too, I could hardly forget�"you know, what with the poor man’s death following so soon thereafter. So very tragic, it was.” �ś Then you knew of his accident?” �ś His fall? Oh, my, yes. It upset my father terribly. Both of us, really. I never learned all the details, but the police asked him to identify the body. There was initially some question of who he actually was�"something about his name, or nationality, or some such thing.” She turned and looked at Elizabeth. �śBut I’m sure you know all about this, you being his granddaughter and all.” The four of them exchanged puzzled glances as Ruth sipped again at her tea. It was Gobeir who voiced their confusion. �śExcuse me, but are you saying the Alexandrian authorities approached your father? And just how, do you suppose, did they know to come to him for such assistance?” �ś Why because of the book, of course.” �ś Book?” She looked at him, appearing momentarily flustered. �śDear me, didn’t I mention this?” She set her cup down. �śYou see, Lionel regularly borrowed reading material from father’s library when we lived in Cairo. When he came here in August, he did so again. The book he took on that day was found in his room after the dreadful accident. Needless to say, the police saw my father’s name written inside the cover. Well-known as he was in the British community, I’m sure it was a rather simple matter to acquire this address.” Logical, thought David. Yet it was curious no mention of this was in his copy of the investigating officer’s report. It was a mistake, he now realized, to have assumed they had everything from the police files. Obviously, more needed to be dug out. �ś I know this is probably asking a lot,” he said, �śbut do you recall what kind of books Lionel borrowed from your father? The subject matter, perhaps?” �ś In Cairo, you mean?” She shook her head. �śI’m sorry, no. I simply never paid much attention.” She paused. �śBut if it helps in any way, I can show you the one he borrowed that last time in August.” �ś You remember which book it was?” �ś Oh, most certainly. Does this surprise you?” She got to her feet. �śJust give me a moment and I’ll fetch it straightaway.” Ruth returned in mere minutes, placing it in David’s hand. Bound in engraved leather with gilt-edged pages, it was clearly a book of quality. �ś The reason I remember this so clearly,” she explained, �śwas my father’s great disappointment over its condition when it was returned by the police. Lionel never damaged any book like this before! As you can see, entire passages are underlined throughout. Why, there’s even a few scribbled notations. See, right there, for example. And all in ink, mind you! There was simply no way for my father to erase�"” �ś It’s his handwriting,” blurted Elizabeth. �śDavid, I’m sure of it . . .” He agreed. The words were almost indecipherable, yet identical to the ragged scrawl of Lionel’s last letters. Unfortunately, the brief notations were nothing more than jotted references to yet other pages, nothing appearing the least bit enlightening. The book was basically a compilation of selected writings from the more famous pioneering archaeologists: Schilemann unearthing the royal graves at Mycenae; Wooley excavating the great ziggurat at Ur; Evans discovering the palace at Minos; Bingham’s chance find of the lost city of Machu Picchu�"and a half dozen more, all pretty much in the same vein. By the passages he chose to underline, it was apparent where his interest lay. Lionel had picked up on what he perceived to be a recurring theme. David pointed this out to the others. �ś It seems he was intrigued by the number of times all these men were led to their greatest finds by simply heeding old myths and legends. See here, for example, where Wooley tells of the ziggurat. Lionel underlined the whole section. There were actually several likely mounds in the area, but Wooley purposely selected the only one considered taboo by the local villagers, the one believed to be haunted by winged gods. And it wasn’t just Wooley, either. He underlined where others wrote of similar experiences; Evans, Bingham, Francois�"almost all of them used this principle to their advantage at one time or another.” Gobeir was less than impressed. �ś I really don’t see it as significant, old boy. I mean, any good archaeologist worth his salt pays heed to such things. Surely this couldn’t have been a revelation of any kind for Lionel.” �ś True enough, so the only explanation I can think of is Lionel had stumbled across an intriguing myth or legend of his own, one he thought worthy to explore. Why the hell else would he be so taken by this as to thoughtlessly damage a valuable book�"and particularly one belonging to a close friend?” Gobeir accepted the logic. �ś All right, let’s say that’s the case, but where does it leave us? How the deuce can we ever determine what got him all stirred up? Lionel spent damn near a decade wandering around Egypt. Can you imagine the number of obscure stories he must’ve encountered in all this time? There’s not a single region in the entire country which isn’t seeped in local legends and such.” The old scholar was right, of course. Looked at from this perspective, it would be like finding a needle in the proverbial haystack. Or maybe not! Perhaps there was a way to trim this down to something more manageable. David turned back to Mrs. Lefebvre who had sat patiently through this quick discussion, doubtless trying to make sense of what she was hearing. �ś Ruth, you said Lionel wasn’t alone when he came here in August. What can you tell us about the other man? Was he British, American, or maybe�"” �ś An Egyptian gentleman, he was,” she answered, �śalthough I never really caught his name. I’m sorry, but he was only here the one time, don’t you see?” �ś You never saw him before this?” She shook her head. �śNor after.” �ś But he did arrive with Lionel?” �ś Oh, most definitely.” �ś Do you recall if your father knew him?” After a few seconds of thought, she said, �śYes, it did appear so. I was with him when the two men arrived and remember no introductions being made.” She lifted her thin shoulders. �śI suppose this means none were necessary.” �ś Could you describe him?” The woman looked doubtful. �śOnly that he was a good deal younger than Lionel. Late twenties, maybe? Perhaps younger. I’m only guessing, mind you. Then you’re a teenager, everyone seems old.” �ś Anything else you can think of?” Trying to do better, her brow knit in concentration. �śNow there was just one other thing�"but of what possible use it might be to you, I can’t imagine. He appeared to have a noticeable problem of some sort with his leg.” �ś Problem?” �ś Well, it’s kind of difficult to describe, really . . .” �ś A limp, perhaps? Did he use a cane?” �ś No cane,” she said. �śBut it seemed he had some difficulty getting around. Not so much a limp as just being very cautious�"you know, tentative like�"when he walked, favoring one leg over the other, if you can imagine.” She shrugged. �śI know this isn’t much, but does it help you at all?” David had no answer. Nor did anyone else. They reviewed their findings while driving back into the heart of Alexandria. No one was enthusiastic. What little they learned from Ruth Lefebvre was more aggravating than enlightening; unconnected bits and pieces of information telling them nothing beyond the fact their copy of the police report was probably incomplete. For himself, David felt the frustration of being caught in a maze. What did he and Elizabeth have to show for their efforts? Damn little! Perhaps it really was impossible to pick up Lionel’s trail after all these years. He’d hoped for a lot more from Ruth; at the very least, something clear and tangible they could act upon. What she gave them was a glimpse of a man who may�"or may not�"have been enthralled with myths and legends. That and a young Egyptian with a limp! It was twilight when they parked in the hotel lot and went inside. They agreed they would first freshen up, then go out for something to eat. A good meal and a solid night’s rest was probably what everyone needed right now. Tomorrow was soon enough to start reshuffling all the pieces. Either that or call it quits. In his room, he splashed cold water over his face, wondering how and where to begin again. He knew they were all looking to him for some kind of direction. The problem was, he was flat out of ideas. Feeling depressed, he unwrapped a clean glass and poured himself a double shot of whisky from the honor bar. The phone rang before he had a chance to even taste it. Irritated, he set the drink down as he answered. �ś David�"? That you?” It took a moment for him to recognize the voice. The static on the line didn’t help. It was Nikolaos Travlos in Salonika. �śYes, it’s me, Nick. You’ll have to speak up some. We’ve got a really lousy connection.” �ś Dammit, David, I’ve been trying to track you down since yesterday afternoon. Why the hell didn’t you tell someone where you were going? I’ve spent damn near�"” �ś Nick, what are you talking about? Edith knows exactly where we�"” He stopped, feeling a sudden cold tightening in his stomach. �śIs it Edith? Tell me what’s happened?” The line went ominously silent for a long moment. �ś I’m really sorry, David, but I guess there’s just no good way to say this. Edith passed away sometime late Wednesday night or early Thursday morning. It was her heart�"at least that’s what the medical people are telling us. It wasn’t until yesterday that her housekeeper came in and discovered her lying in the hall.” He paused. �śGod, I’m so sorry.” Shaken, David eased himself onto the edge of the chair. More than stunned, he felt physically sick. Wednesday night? That long ago? How could this�" �ś I’m sure you must’ve known her wishes regarding burial,” continued Nick. �śShe spelled it out in her will. Immediate cremation, no embalming; under the circumstances, the university felt it had no choice but to�"well, we thought it best to go ahead and�"” �ś Just say it, Nick.” �ś David, the cremation was performed this afternoon.” CHAPTER FOURTEEN The intrusive noise came to his ear as if from a very great distance, an inexplicable sound having absolutely no connection to his vivid dream. So what was making the damn noise? It grew louder, more annoying and persistent, slowly pulling him ever closer to�" David finally awoke with a start, jolted back to consciousness by what he now recognized as a ringing telephone. The bright daylight flooding his room was a mild shock. The last he remembered it was just past two o’clock. Getting up from the couch, he staggered over and lifted the receiver. It was Elizabeth. �śWere you still sleeping?” �śYes, I�"I guess I must’ve been.” �śI was beginning to think maybe you went out.” A long pause. �śMay I come over?” �ś Sure,” he said, thinking it odd she felt it necessary to ask. �śJust give me a minute or so to clean up, okay?” �śI’ve got coffee. Thought you could probably use some.” �śSounds good.” He rubbed at the crick in his neck, trying to get his thoughts together. Before he could ask the time, she was gone. He stripped off his wrinkled shirt and unlatched the door. He found his wristwatch on the bathroom sink, telling him it was almost noon. It didn’t seem possible. The mirror only confirmed how he felt, like his head had been pulled through a knothole. He let the water run cold before washing his face. The shock of it helped ease the pounding throb behind his eyes. Much of last night was a foggy blur. But not the dream. It remained fresh and clear. He was a kid again, standing with the support of Richard Andrews in the funeral home. The remembered pain of it; the horror of having to look at those three coffins, knowing he’d never again see his parents and little brother . . . all still so vivid in his mind. He sighed. It was a frightening thing, he thought, how the brain can retrieve and pervert memories�"and seemingly for no other purpose than to torture on multiple levels. A knock came at the door as he reached for a towel. Over his shoulder, he called, �śCome on in. It’s open.” He heard her enter. Elizabeth had coffee poured when he came out. The half-consumed bottle of whiskey was still on the coffee table. It was a telling statement in itself, but one she was choosing to ignore. �śIf you’re hungry,” she said, �śI can order something brought up?” �śThis will do fine for now. Maybe later.” He took a fresh shirt from the bureau drawer and slipped it on, aware she was following him obliquely with her eyes, doubtless trying to gauge his condition. Her concern was appreciated, but unnecessary. He put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her close. �śI’m okay, really,” he assured her. �śI’m not so frail as all that.” Her face relaxed into a weak smile. �śI know,” she said. �śIt’s just that Edith was such a dear, lovely woman. I’d have to be blind not to see how much she meant to you.” He acknowledged the sympathy by placing a light kiss of her forehead. �śShe was eighty-six,” he said. �śAnd maybe even a little more, if truth be told. She sometimes joked about putting the occasional birthday on hold.” Releasing her, he sat down on the couch. �śThe point is, I should’ve been better prepared for the inevitable. But I really wasn’t. I guess I wanted to believe she was going to outlast everyone. Pretty dumb of me, don’t you think?” No. More like normal, I’d say.” She hesitated; then asked, �śI don’t suppose you’ve phoned Nick back?” �śNot yet. I promised to reach him sometime today.” He drained half the cup in two swallows. �śWhen I do, I’m telling him I’ll be staying here in Egypt for an indefinite time. As I said last night, one of the stipulations of Edith’s will was that no memorial service be held for her until two full months after her passing. She didn’t want a weepy funeral. Any legal matters will just have to be put on hold until I return.” Elizabeth had no immediate response. If she approved, or disapproved, of his decision, it wasn’t evident. Instead, she folded her arms, her look thoughtful. Finally, she asked, �śAre you sure it’s the right thing to do? I know Nick is a good friend of yours, but I somehow doubt he’ll understand.” David nodded once in agreement. �śNo, I suppose not,” he said. �śBut I’ve really given this a lot of thought, and it’s what I’m going to do.” �ś I hope it’s not because you feel you have to, David. You’re under no obligation to me, or to anyone else.” �śLet’s just say there are many reasons.” It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on. �śI would be lying if I said you weren’t a big factor in this, because you obviously are. But a lot of it is Edith, too. Archaeology was the single greatest force in her life; her passion, her sole reason for being. A discovery like your grandfather made was what she lived for�"and I have to believe she’d want nothing more than us finish what we’ve started.” Seeing that Elizabeth appeared willing to accept this at face value, he changed the subject, asking, �śHave you talked with Lewis or Ahmed this morning?” �śAbout a half hour ago. They wanted to give you some time to yourself, so they’re going over to Police Central Records�"or whatever it’s called�"to see it they can come up with anything more in Lionel’s file. Under the circumstances, I thought it made good sense. But they might not have left yet. If you want, maybe I can still catch them.” �śNo, let them take care of it,” he said, getting back up on his feet. �śHow about we go for a walk? I think what I really need is a healthy dose of sea air.” �śAnd afterwards, maybe a bit to eat?” �śYeah, that too.” * * * For the better part of an hour they walked barefoot on the white sands, hand in hand, more in silence than not. Both had much to occupy their thoughts, the long crescent beach of East Harbor perfectly suited for contemplation. Curving like the blade of a great scimitar, the warm sands stretched from Alexandria’s Liberation Square all the way out to old Fort Qait Bai, the fifteenth-century Turkish fortress where the ancient lighthouse of Pharos once stood. To their right, a brilliant sun reflected off the shimmering sea, so bright it physically hurt one’s eyes to long watch the many bathers who splashed and frolicked in the shallow surf. The more daring of them, mostly teenage boys, swam further out, their bobbing heads rising and falling on the blue surface with the natural rhythm of the incoming swells. It was a scene of idyllic leisure and tranquility, but one David felt unable to share. He grieved inside far more than he wanted Elizabeth to know, his sense of guilt too difficult to explain. He focused on the blurred horizon, picturing Edith in his mind as he last saw her, wondering if she might be alive today but for his haste to get to Egypt. The evidence said yes. According to Nick, she died literally within hours of his departure. Knowing the frailty of her heart, he should’ve seen it coming. Surely there must’ve been warning signs in her voice or manner, some faint clue he should’ve picked up on. And now it was too late. A gentle squeeze on his hand told him Elizabeth was talking to him and he not listening. �śSay again? I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.” �śI see that,” she said, her look forgiving. �śI was just wondering out loud what we can possibly do at this point. We haven’t talked about it, but it seems we’ve pretty much run out of any more ideas to explore. I so hoped finding Cameron’s daughter would somehow put us on the right track.” �śYou’re not alone. It’s what we all hoped for. Unfortunately, the only thing we really gleaned from her was Cameron’s reason for leaving the dig site. Beyond this, everything’s as murky as ever.” She surprised him by saying, �śFor me, I think even more so.” �śHow so?” �śWell, it’s probably only me, but doesn’t it sometimes feel like every time we turn around we keep getting conflicting information, totally different snap-shots of what should be the same man?” �śYou mean Lionel?” �śIn an odd way, it’s almost as if we’ve been given glimpses of two�"or even three�"different people. Ever since this started I’ve been trying to piece together a mental picture of my grandfather. You know, what his life was like, and all. And so far, it’s just not working for me. So much of what he did just doesn’t make a lick of sense.” He was interested. �śSuch as?” �śWell, a lot of little things,” she said. �śIt’s like the more we learn, the more bizarre and illogical his behavior becomes. For example, take Ruth’s explanation of why they left Tell El Amarna. Paul’s reason makes perfect sense, but how does it explain Lionel? Unless he lied to literally everyone, he was always in desperate need of work�"so why would he just up and quit? It’s like we’re the ones who have this distorted view of him, and then we keep getting confused when his actions somehow don’t fit the mold we’ve created. It’s all so very�"” She stopped, puzzled by David’s expression. �śWhat is it? What’s wrong?” He stared at her in silence, a smile building on his face. Now he wondered how in hell he could’ve missed something this incredibly obvious. We’ve been trying to jam a square peg into a round hole! Of course! It has to be the answer! �śDavid, are you feeling all right?” �śElizabeth, you’re absolutely brilliant!” Now it was her turn to stare. But before she could ask, he grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards the hotel. �śCome on,” he said. �śWe’ve got work to do!” * * * It was two-forty in the afternoon when Gobeir and Rashidi finally returned from Police Central Records. Visibly exhausted, the elder handed David a single sheet of paper before sitting heavily on the couch. �śI wish we had better news,” he said as Rashidi gave him a glass of cold water, �śbut I’m afraid this is all we came up with. That’s a copy of the investigating officer’s personal notes from 1956. Unfortunately, it tells us nothing much beyond what we already knew.” David began reading, finding little of interest until he reached mid-page. Aloud, he asked, �śWhat’s this about Lionel having stayed at a second hotel�"the Marhaba ?” �śWell, yes, I admit that did come as bit of a surprise. The local officer in charge says that some weeks prior to his stay at the King Edward , Lionel actually spent considerable time at a slightly more reputable establishment over at West Harbor. The dates are all there. Curiously, when at the Marhaba , he was registered under his real name, not using the alias �ŚParker’ as he later did at the Edward . Now what can be made of that, do you suppose?” David read further, much more pleased than his expression let on. If anything, this only reinforced what he now believed. The dates certainly corresponded. According to the officer’s investigation, Lionel checked into the Marhaba on July 2; then checked out on August 3, one day before he showed up in Al Gami. �śOh, I think we can deduce a great deal from this, Lewis. In fact, there’s nothing here that should surprise us at all.” �śCome again?” Gobeir raised a bushy eyebrow, shifting his eyes between David and Elizabeth. �śHas something happened here you two haven’t told us?” Elizabeth only smiled, leaving the explanation to David. �śIt’s just a whole new way of looking at this,” he said. �śLet’s start with these dates. Up until now we never knew how long Lionel was in Alexandria prior to his death�"or even more important, when exactly he laid hands on the gold disk. I think now we do. This answers both questions.” Intrigued, Rashidi joined Gobeir on the couch. �śI’m puzzled, Professor,” he said. �śHow does this information fix the time of his discovery? Are you saying he brought the disk with him from Tell El Amarna?” �śNot at all. This paper says quite the opposite�"although he did bring something vital to him from Burkhart’s dig.” I don’t follow . . .” �śLook at it this way, Ahmed. The one firm fact we’ve always had was that when Lionel discovered the disk he was so terrified by something�"or someone�"he registered into the King Edward under an assumed name, right? And with damned good reason, as it turned out. So, why then didn’t he use an alias when he was staying at the Marhaba ? I think the answer is patently obvious. At the time, he hadn’t yet found it.” �śWell, I suppose it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Gobeir also liked the sound of this. �śThen your conclusion,” he said, �śis the disk only came into his possession sometime after leaving the Marhaba on August 4 and registering into the King Edward on August 10, correct? But this only gave him about�"what?�"six or seven days, at most?” �śApparently it was all the time they needed.” �ś They?” �śLionel and the man who came with him from Tell El Amarna.” Gobeir frowned. �śWhat man are you�"” He stopped. �śAre you referring to the younger man Ruth mentioned?” �śExactly, Lewis. And it’s someone we should’ve zeroed in on long before this. I’m guessing he was with Lionel not only throughout his entire stay at the Marhaba �"but even before, all the way back to Burkhart’s excavation.” �śNow you bloody well have lost me, old boy.” He glanced briefly at Elizabeth. �śWill someone please tell me what you two have been up to?” David obliged. �śIt’s all in here,” he said, picking up his copy of Burkhart’s ledger. �śWe’ve been looking at this information all wrong, completely missing something we should’ve seen days ago.” He flipped the sheets to the pay entries made on the last week of June, 1956, then handed it to Gobeir. �śRight there is where we got sidetracked.” �śWhen Cameron and Lionel left the site together?” �śThat’s right. From the start we’ve been hanging everything on their friendship, blinding us to all the alternative possibilities. It completely muddied our perception of when and why things happened. It took an observation by Elizabeth this morning to finally wake me up. Why, she wanted to know, would Lionel give up employment he so desperately needed? Just because his friend Cameron left? Makes no sense, does it? And it certainly wasn’t because Burkhart cut back on personnel. The ledger clearly shows he brought in even more people to fill their shoes.” He paused, letting this point sink in. �śThe bottom line, Lewis, is we had the right idea�"just the wrong scenario. Lionel was compelled to leave because of someone else, all right, but it wasn’t Cameron. It was a man we overlooked completely.” �śBut there wasn’t anyone else,” said Rashidi. �śI’m sure we accounted for�"” �śNot everyone. We only looked at the principle players, ignoring the next level down. Think about it. Besides those on our list, isn’t there someone else in the ledger?” Gobeir caught it at once. �śYes, of course! Burkhart’s foreman, the Egyptian lead man in charge of all the native diggers, right?” �śHere, I’ve got it,” said Rashidi. �śThe name is N. Mehra�"and you’re absolutely correct, Professor. His name goes off the payroll at the same time as Lionel and Cameron.” �śExactly. And there’s something else in there I found interesting, as well. Take a look at the previous week’s entries, particularly the column for miscellaneous expenses.” �śWhere?” David pointed it out with his finger. �śSee this small expenditure there? It covers the medical services of a Dr. Bishay, presumably a local physician. No explanation is given, but I’d be willing to bet that his patient was Mehra. Everything fits too neatly to be otherwise. Consider for a moment the two key things Ruth told us about the young Egyptian arriving with Lionel that day in August. One was her father appeared to already know him�"which he most certainly would! And two, the man had some kind of physical problem with his leg. Now I can only speak for myself, but didn’t her description fit someone recuperating from a recent injury?” �śIndeed,” replied Gobeir, stroking his chin. �śAnd if we take this scenario a step further, this Mehra fellow must’ve been absolutely key in leading Lionel to the gold disk.” �śI agree. Based on this, I think we can finally construct a really plausible theory of what happened.” David paused to light a cigarette, gathering his thoughts. �śThis is pure speculation, but let’s suppose that while at Tell El Amarna Lionel establishes a casual friendship with the lead man, Mehra, someone who�"whether inadvertently or otherwise�"reveals something Lionel finds of immense significance. It could be literally anything; a remembered inscription, perhaps a curious find he once made at a previous dig . . . The options here are virtually endless. But for the sake of argument, let’s go with what we learned yesterday from Ruth. Let’s say it was simply an obscure myth or legend from Mehra’s own background�"yet a tale that fascinated the living hell out of Lionel. To him, it’s like a revelation, because it somehow reinforces his own long-held theory of what might’ve actually happened to Alexander’s body. Whatever it was, he knows it’s something he and Mehra must pursue at their earliest opportunity.” �śWithout involving Paul Cameron?” asked Rashidi. �śI’m fairly sure he didn’t. They were close, but not that close. A good example is what Mother Ghali told us; Lionel had no qualms about advising her to break off her affair with Cameron and seek a better life.” He shook his head. �śNo, I just don’t think the ties between them were anywhere near as strong as we first assumed. Besides which, the pursuit of Alexander was Lionel’s dream, not Cameron’s.” �śThen their leaving at the same time was mere coincidence?” �śPrecisely. In fact, I believe Lionel probably had every intention to finish out the season at Tell El Amarna before taking up his quest. But the accident befalling Mehra changed everything. Whatever happened to him, it was serious enough Burkhart had to let him go. So what was Lionel to do? Would he risk letting Mehra leave without him? I doubt it. Despite all the financial considerations, I can’t imagine he’d let Mehra out of his sight for a second. Instead, he took Mehra to Alexandria, to help in his recovery.” �śTo the Marhaba . . .” �śYes. It was only in early August that the young man was fit to travel.” �śBut if you don’t believe Cameron was involved,” Rashidi argued, �śthen why did they go to see him in Al Gami? What was the point? Surely it wouldn’t be to just borrow that book.” �śYou’re still overplaying their friendship, Ahmed. If you stay with my scenario, isn’t it more reasonable to think Cameron’s home was simply a brief stop-over on the way to wherever it was they were really going?” �śSo how do you explain the book?” David butted out his cigarette. �śI think it’s probably the only reason Lionel even bothered stopping there at all. According to Ruth, Lionel had made use of Cameron’s library for years back in Cairo. Doubtless he was very familiar with the contents of this particular book�"but now those remembered passages took on a whole new meaning for him.” He shrugged. �śIf nothing else, perhaps he only wanted to reassure himself he was on the right track with Mehra’s story.” He swung back to Gobeir. �śLewis, yesterday you said we would get nowhere unless we narrowed down our search area. Now we might be able to do just that. Surely there has to be a way, some means at our disposal, to learn more about this Mehra?” He waited for an answer, watching Gobeir’s thoughtful face as the problem was considered. Eventually�"barely noticeably�"he saw the bushy eyebrows begin to rise. He took it as a good sign. �śYou know, old boy, there just might be. Prior to the early sixties, men seeking a foreman’s position on any sanctioned dig weren’t required to be licensed through any government agency; but this didn’t mean their qualifications and work experience weren’t kept on file by the Cairo Museum. In a great many cases, they were. The one promising fact we have working for us is that Burkhart was a meticulous man�"and probably very cautious about getting his money’s worth. He would’ve known the importance of a good foreman to any successful excavation; thus I can’t imagine him hiring someone off the street to fill the position.” �śThen we have a chance?” Gobeir lifted his hands. �śI suppose so,” he said. �śA slim one, perhaps, but still a chance.” He looked to Rashidi. �śWhat are your thoughts on this? Any idea where that information might possibly be stored?” Rashidi hesitated before answering. �śWell, sir,” he said finally, �śif it was kept at all, then my guess is it would’ve been transferred to the head office of the Egyptian Antiquities Organization ages ago, probably when they took over the processing of all applications for future excavations. Whether or not they actually preserved those earlier files is anyone’s guess until someone actually tries digging it out.” �śThen tell me this, can it be done from here without our returning to Cairo? If it’s just a matter of getting proper authorization or manpower, I’m fairly sure I can call in a few favors.” �śI don’t believe that’ll be necessary. I was wondering who might be the easiest man to work with over the phone. The one I’d like to put on this is a former colleague of mine. I’m fairly certain he still works out of the researching department.” He glanced at his wristwatch. �śIts not yet three-thirty, sir, so if you wish, I should be able to catch him.” �śThen go for it, my boy!” said an enthusiastic Gobeir, hoisting himself to his feet. �śThings have taken a decided turn for the better. That was damn fine detective work, David! Now let’s keep our fingers crossed and see what comes of it.” * * * While Rashidi tackled the Mehra problem from the privacy of his own room, Elizabeth accompanied Gobeir down to one of the Cecil’s three restaurants for coffee. David used the opportunity to first shower and shave; then placed his promised call to Salonika. The conversation proved as awkward as he anticipated. It was clear Nick was perplexed by his decision to remain in Egypt, but chose not to press him on it. David ended the connection at the first polite opportunity. He didn’t feel good about leaving his friend dangling, but saw no other way. Though much tempted to try for an hour of sleep, he knew himself too wound up. Instead, he stepped out onto his balcony, enjoying the view of Egypt’s second largest metropolis. And a beautiful city it was, he thought, as he pondered all the intricacies of her illustrious past. Purely from an archaeological standpoint, he always felt it truly regrettable so little evidence remained of Alexandria’s glorious heyday under the Ptolemies. What little was known of that magnificent city came down mostly through old literature; tantalizing less by way of the spade. Two thousand years ago, the city proudly stood as the intellectual capital of the Mediterranean world, rivaled only by imperial Rome in wealth and splendor. Yet now the ancient city was completely built over, lost forever beneath the concrete buildings and thick pavement of her modern descendent. Too, he knew of the city’s many highs and lows over the intervening centuries. Though continuously inhabited since it’s founding in 332 B.C., Alexandria’s fortunes had taken a dramatic fall after the collapse of the Roman Empire. In historical terms, it was only in recent times she had regained a measure of her lost prominence and prosperity. Now a bustling city of four million souls, it was difficult to imagine that when Napoleon first disembarked his troops here in 1798, proud Alexandria had sunken to nothing more than a dusty, little village. Preoccupied with his musings, David only became aware of Elizabeth’s return when she suddenly joined him at the railing. �śI knocked,” she said, slipping her arm through his, �śbut I guess you didn’t hear. Daydreaming, were you?” �śA little,” he admitted. �śLewis not with you?” �śHe’s across the hall, seeing how things are going. Ahmed’s waiting for his friend to call back. By the way, I ordered up a small plate of shrimp and more coffee. You never ate that much earlier. Thought you might be getting hungry by now. So how’s the head feeling? Better, I hope.” �śInfinitely.” �śGood.” She turned, letting the light breeze catch her hair as she took in the city skyline. �śI think Lewis was pleased to hear you’re not going back to Salonika. I guess he felt a little awkward asking you about it.” �śReally? He shouldn’t have.” �śI told him so over coffee.” �śWhat else did you two talk about?” Her smile faded somewhat, her expression more pensive. �śWell, for one thing,” she said, �śhe gave me the location of the cemetery where my grandfather is buried. He and Ahmed came across it this morning in the police files. He wasn’t sure if I had it, thinking I might want to pay a visit while I’m here.” This was something David had wondered about himself. �śDo you?” he asked. �śYou know I’ll take you whenever you wish.” She moved her head marginally. �śI just don’t feel I’m ready. Like I said this morning, there’s so much I don’t understand about him. In a way, he’s still a stranger to me. If it’s okay with you, I’d rather wait until this is all over.” He let it go, not surprised when she now changed the subject. �śAlexandria is really very beautiful,” she said. �śI can’t get over how totally different it is from Cairo. The feel here is so�"so�"” �śCosmopolitan?” he offered. �śYes. Cosmopolitan. Almost like being in a separate country. When I think of Cleopatra’s exotic capital, this isn’t the picture that comes to mind. It looks and feels far more European than Egyptian.” �śTruth be told, this was certainly the case even in ancient times. But this was only natural; after all, the city’s origin was pure Greek�"just as were all the Ptolemaic kings and queens who ruled from here.” She gave a wistful sigh. �śWouldn’t it be fantastic,” she said, �śif we could somehow turn back the clock a few thousand years, just to see what all this looked like in Cleopatra’s time? I bet it was really something.” �śBy all accounts, it was.” Her eyes continued to explore. �śNow what about this Soma you told me about, the temple housing Alexander’s body for all those centuries? Does anyone know where it was located?” �śNot with any certainty, no. But I can give you a rough idea.” He pointed across the blue waters of the bay. �śAll historical sources indicate the palace grounds of the Ptolemies lay over there, southeast of the east harbor. Recent marine archaeology confirms this. See those ships and barges there? For several years now a team has been pulling up all kinds of fascinating things�"marble columns, statuary�"objects that were once part of the palace compound.” �śAll under water?” �śThe majority of the royal enclosure supposedly covered a promontory of land called Cape Lochias,” he said, �śbut over the ensuing centuries, what with earthquakes and such, the entire area sank into the sea. How far inland the palace actually ran is still undetermined. All we know for certain is that Alexander’s mausoleum stood somewhere within its boundaries.” �śNo physical evidence of the temple was ever found?” �śNone.” She appeared to ponder this for some time, then said, �śYou know, if Alexander’s body really did survive to modern times, then wouldn’t the logical place to look for it be right here in Alexandria? I know Lewis leans in this direction.” �śSeems you two talked about quite a lot over coffee.” �śNot really. He just mentioned he found it hard to believe such a treasure could’ve been successfully removed from Alexandria in the first century without anyone knowing.” �śHe’s certainly entitled to his opinion,” said David. �śFor myself, I disagree. I suspect if the sarcophagus survived at all, then it’s only because the Amun priesthood secretly removed it from the city. After all, they were the ones who had control of it. Seems to me, they could’ve found a way.” He paused, now smiling. �śDo you have a pet theory you haven’t yet shared with me?” �śAs a matter of fact, I do. Want to hear it?” �śOf course.” �śWell, since we’re only guessing,” she said, �śI’ll say it went up the Nile to Luxor. Not only is it the site of ancient Thebes, but I also like the religious angle. You know, the temple-complex there at Karnak, and all. It was the major center for the worship of Amun, right? So what if it is a thousand miles to the south; there’s been rail service between here and there since the late twenties. Lewis told me so. Therefore Lionel could’ve easily gone and returned during those missing six or seven days.” �śI agree, but aren’t you forgetting one thing? Whatever information Lionel got from Mehra brought him north to Alexandria�"not south.” The logic momentarily deflated her. �śOkay, I guess I see your point.” She smiled again. �śHey, I gave it my best shot. So maybe Lewis is right. Maybe Alexander’s body is still right here in�"” She stopped, distracted by the slam of a door. �śWhere the deuce is everybody?” The urgent voice belonged to Gobeir, and it could only mean one thing. Stepping back inside, they saw him fairly beaming with excitement. �śWe’ve got it, David! Ahmed’s still on the line with Cairo, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. The fellow’s full name is Nawal Mehra�"and I almost fell off my chair when we learned his background. He came to Cairo from Mersa Matruh, of all places! Can you believe it? We’ve even got an address!” �ś Matruh? You’re sure of it?” �śPositive! Just think of the historical connection!” Mystified, Elizabeth stepped between them. �śOkay, boys, what’s all this mean?” �śMaybe everything,” replied David. �śWe were just now talking about a religious angle, right? Well, this is it in spades. Matruh is a small port up the coast. Called Paraetonium in Ptolemaic times, it was the ancient gateway to one of Egypt’s oldest sanctuaries out in the western desert�"the temple of Amun at Siwah Oasis! Alexander, himself, made the journey there in 331 B.C., to consult with the temple’s holy oracle. It was there the oracle proclaimed him Amun’s true son. Think what this could mean! If it was the Amun priesthood who spirited Alexander’s body out of Alexandria some four hundred years later, then what more appropriate place could there possibly be to take him?” A gradual understanding widened her eyes. �śSiwah Oasis. That’s it, isn’t it? Why, it would almost be like�"like�"” She swallowed, too stunned to finish the thought. It was Gobeir who completed it for her. �śLike taking him home to his spiritual father,” he said. �śMy dear that may be it exactly!” CHAPTER FIFTEEN A three-hour drive up the Mediterranean coast the following morning brought them to the small, picturesque port of Mersa Matruh. Situated around a deep lagoon cut off from the sea by a chain of ragged rocks, the town’s beautiful white beaches had long established it as an off-the-beaten-track vacation spot. During the hot summer months the permanent population of sixty thousand was said to more than double with the influx of tourists�"all mostly native Egyptians, for few Europeans were willing to brave the intense heat at this time of year. And David could well appreciate why as he parked in front of the Municipal building at the intersection of Matruh’s two main streets. Not quite eleven o’clock and the temperature was already ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Despite its rural appearance, the town was the capital of the Matruh Governate, the immense province encompassing the entire northern half of Egypt’s vast western desert. As such, it maintained a sizable government administration center. Before leaving Alexandria, Gobeir had the foresight to phone ahead and schedule an appointment. Their meeting was with Mr. Mahmoud Wassef, the Director of Tourism. Mr. Wassef greeted them cordially in his air-conditioned office on the third floor. His great pleasure at receiving so distinguished a guest as Dr. Gobeir was immediately apparent, for he withheld his deepest smile until the moment of shaking Lewis’ hand, which he then pumped with enthusiasm. A broad man of considerable height and girth, his fleshy face was amiable as he supervised their seating. The room was spacious, if somewhat old fashioned. Metal blinds were drawn open, allowing bright sunlight to spill across the polished tile floor. Beneath a twelve-foot ceiling a bay window overlooked the main harbor, giving an unobstructed view of the sea. �ś It was very wise of you to contact me when you did, Dr. Gobeir,” he said, now seated behind his desk, �śbut I fear you may be somewhat disappointed in the quality of the accommodations I’ve arranged for you and your party. Securing rooms in any of our better hotels at this time of year is most difficult. If perhaps I was given more time . . .” �ś I understand completely,” said Gobeir congenially. �śAs I explained over the phone, our trip here to Matruh was unplanned. I’m sure whatever you’ve come up with will be quite acceptable.” Wassef appeared relieved. �śThen with your approval, your reservations are confirmed at the Qaddis . A rather small establishment, to be sure, but I believe you will find the rooms clean and presentable. Earlier this morning, I took the liberty of sending over one of my people to inspect them. He assures me all is as it should be.” �ś Our appreciation, sir.” This business out of the way, Wassef now moved to other matters. �śI believe you also mentioned the possibility of driving inland to Siwah. Are you still contemplating this endeavor?” Gobeir lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal gesture. �śIt’s still a possibility, yes. I understand, however, that special permits of some sort must be arranged through your office, correct?” �śThis is true. The Ministry has placed Siwah Oasis off-limits for some years now, mostly as a protection for unprepared travelers. Tourists without proper authorization are routinely turned back at a military checkpoint south of Matruh. We do this for their safety, of course. You would be amazed at the regularity with which people try undertaking this grueling journey into our desert country without the necessary water and gasoline to see them through. At a bare minimum, two vehicles are an absolute necessity. As you doubtless know, there’s but one road, the greater part of which is unpaved. Mechanical breakdowns are commonplace over such rough terrain.” �śShould we decide to go,” asked David, �świll the issuing of passes present any problems?” He strongly doubted it. If there were, Wassef would’ve warned Gobeir in advance of their coming. �śNo obstacle at all, Professor,” Wassef assured him. �śA few hours notice will be more than adequate for their preparation. If you so choose, I can even arrange for the rental of vehicles and appropriate gear. I would be honored to assist in any possible way during your stay here in Matruh. Please consider my office completely at your disposal.” Gobeir stood, again shaking the man’s hand. �śYou’ve been most helpful,” he said. �śWe may very well take you up on your generous offer, sir.” * * * The precise directions of the rather obsequious Mr. Wassef led them to their hotel without difficulty. The Qaddis was an aged establishment in the southern section of town, a mere two stories high and ringed with quaint, cobbled streets. Once registered, they deposited their luggage in four modest rooms on the upper floor. The proprietor’s wife at the front desk confirmed the address they sought�"172 Sharia Galaah�"was located in the heart of the town’s old bazaar district, just four blocks away. In view of the narrow streets and heavy pedestrian traffic, the obvious choice was to leave the car and proceed on foot. Gobeir and Rashidi led the way, pacing themselves in the intense heat, which only promised to worsen as the day advanced. A ten-minute walk took them into the bustling activity of Matruh’s marketplace. The colorful gathering was reminiscent of the Khan Khalili in Cairo, even down to the pungent odors of cooking meat and exotically spiced food; in many ways like stepping back a thousand years in time. David clung to Elizabeth’s hand, knowing how easy it would be to lose her in the jostling throng of farmers, vendors, and shopkeepers, all shouting for attention as they hawked their wares. The majority of the people, he knew, were city-dwellers belonging to the Arab tribe called the Awled Ali, though a fair number of shoppers were clearly visiting Bedouins. The distinctive stripped dresses and white scarves of the desert women stood out in sharp contrast to the traditional black clothing of their local counterparts. The dark-skinned Bedouin men�"equally recognizable in their flowing white robes and ghotra headwear�"tended to gather in small groups around open cafes, occupying themselves with sipping cups of strong coffee. Elizabeth, who had dressed for the heat in a thin cotton blouse and matching slacks, quickly became the object of many lingering glances, yet the attention appeared not to bother her. Instead, she appeared charmed by the busy activity around all the various shops and open-air stalls. She even laughed in delight when a flock of bleating sheep was suddenly herded without warning from a side alleyway, the animals blocking their way and raising a cloud of fine, yellow dust. This delay only served to separate them further from Gobeir and Rashidi. Looking above the crowd, David saw Rashidi turn and shout something unintelligible in the general din. When he realized he wasn’t heard, he then pointed across the street, gesturing for them to follow. �śLooks like they found it.” �śWhere?” �śOver there. This way.” He forced an opening, pulling her with him. They caught up with Rashidi in front of a sandstone building specializing in the sale of copper pots and pans. Vessels of every size and description were stacked outside on woolen blankets for display to passersby. From an adjoining workshop came the rhythmic clang of hammer against metal. Gobeir was already in conversation with an elderly sheikh who had paused to rest in the shade of a tattered cloth awning. �śThe painted numbers aren’t very legible,” said Rashidi, �śbut this should be the place.” He nodded towards Gobeir. �śI guess we’ll know soon enough” But as they watched, it didn’t prove this simple. After some talk, the old townsman turned and strode into the shadowy workshop, only to reappear seconds later with a barefoot boy in tow. Looking amused, he deposited the thin youngster in front of Gobeir; then headed back out into the flow of traffic without so much as a backward glance. Looking somewhat perplexed, Gobeir steered the child over. The boy was no more than twelve, naked from the waist up save for a sweaty, cloth cap worn rakishly to one side. He flashed a toothy grin, giving Elizabeth an open and favorable appraisal with his dark, adolescent eyes. �śA problem, Lewis?” �śWell, I’m not really sure. It seems we have the correct address, all right, but beyond this, things get a little confusing. Near as I can tell, this young lad here is well known up and down the street as a bit of a troublemaker; into more than his share of mischief, you might say. That old gentleman apparently assumed we were here to bring the boy to task for one of his recent pranks.” �śWonder what gave him that idea.” �ś I guess it was a natural assumption, old boy, considering what I asked him. You see, as far as the man knows, there’s only one Nawal Mehra living along the Sharia Galaah” He chuckled as he dropped his hand on the boy’s brown shoulder. �śAnd like it or not, you’re looking at him.” �ś This is Nawal Mehra?” The boy responded by immediately sweeping off his stained cap and stabbed a dirty thumb to his chest. �śThat’s me! You wish buy something from Nawal, mister? I have only the best to sell!” He clutched at David’s hand. �śYou come look see, yes?” The lad’s determination was admirable, but he must be set straight. �śI’m sorry, son. We’re not here to buy anything. But we do want to speak with your parents. Do they work here?” Though visibly disappointed, the boy nevertheless led them into the main shop, perhaps believing a sale was yet possible once he had them inside. The interior was filled with handcrafted vessels identical to those stacked outside. Less numerous were fancier items worked in silver and brass, all prudently caged behind iron grillwork secured to the wall. The boy darted to the rear, disappearing behind a beaded curtain�"and within moments a noisy commotion developed that was impossible to ignore. As they listened, the plaintive voice of the child was drowned out by a man’s�"one much louder and shrill with anger. Then came the unmistakable sound of a slap, bringing an abrupt end to the one-sided dispute. The boy ran headlong through the curtain, the reddish imprint of a hand still visible across his cheek. Weaving to avoid a collision with Rashidi, he slid onto his backside, his bare feet scattering a stack of bowls that spun and clattered in every direction. Before he could rise, a scowling man in a rimless hat hurried out and seized him by the wrist, jerking him to his feet. Like the elderly man in the street, it was obvious this man also assumed the boy had brought trouble to his door. Shouting in Arabic, he shook the lad before setting him to the task of cleaning up the mess created by his carelessness. Only then did he turn his attention to the four strangers inside his shop. �ś Sabah en-nur,” he greeted them, a wary look in his eyes. �ś Sabah en-ful,” replied Gobeir, giving the traditional response. After introducing himself, he assured the man young Nawal did nothing wrong, and not the reason for their being here. �śAnd you, sir, are the boy’s father?” �śI am Khaleel Mehra,” said the shopkeeper, his expression only slightly more cordial. If not customers, he seemed to wonder, just who were these people? �śMy son says you wish to speak with me. How may I serve you?” Gobeir came directly to the point. �śWe’re seeking a man who bears the same name as your son. He once worked out of Cairo and would be about my age now. A relative of yours, perhaps. The address we were given brought us to this shop. Hopefully, sir, you can help us locate him. We’ve come a long way to speak with�"” �śI can be of no help to you,” the man said. It apparently hadn’t escaped his notice that Gobeir offered no explanation for their search, and his narrowed eyes reflected his growing apprehension. �śYou have come a great distance for nothing. The man you seek is long dead.” It was what David feared. �śWas he your father?” he asked. The shopkeeper hesitated. Not possessing the subtlest of faces, he seemed to be debating the wisdom of responding. Finally, he said, �śNawal Mehra was my uncle, but I know nothing of him. Allah took him before I was born.” David felt a sinking feeling of déj� vu. Khaleel looked roughly in his early fifties, about the right age if what he suspected was true. �śCan you tell us how he died?” �śI cannot. It was before my time.” �śLet me assure you,” said Gobeir,�śthat we mean no trouble. You see, this young lady’s grandfather and your uncle were friends long ago. They once worked together. He may even have visited with your uncle here in Matruh for a time. Please, sir, if not you, then perhaps there are others in your family who could speak with us.” Khaleel only stared at them. They were getting nowhere, David saw, and pressing the man would only anger him further. He caught Gobeir’s eye, conveying the message to back off. Gobeir grudgingly saw the wisdom. �śThen we’ll take no more of your time,” he said. But in a last effort, he added, �śWe are staying at the Qaddis . If you do think of anyone who might help us, we would be most grateful for�"” �ś There is no one , I tell you! Why do you not understand? I think you must leave!” There it would’ve ended but for the boy. Having listened to this curious exchange with keen interest, he completely missed the warning behind his father’s brusque manner with these people. Stepping forward, he volunteered, �ś Gidd-ya would remember these things, mister. He knows everything of the old times in�"” A hard backhand from his father silenced him, and he yelped in pain and surprise. Stunned, he clapped his fingers to his lip, then brought them away bloody. Now shamed yet again before strangers, he spun on his heels and ran out through the shop entrance as Elizabeth tried unsuccessfully to grab him. �ś Nawal, wait �"!” Khaleel’s angry scowl only deepened as she dashed after his son. �śThe boy speaks foolishness!” he declared, showing no remorse for his action. �śLeave now!” They found Elizabeth alone in the street, the boy nowhere to be seen. David swore under his breath. His Arabic was limited to only a few general words and phrases�"but he sure as hell knew that �Śgidd’ meant grandfather. �śLewis, did you hear what the boy started to say?” Gobeir immediately nodded. �śWasn’t sure if you caught it. Seems there’s someone here in town his father doesn’t want us to know about.” �śDamn right. But if he thinks he’s put us off�"then he’s dead wrong!” * * * On the northwestern edge of Matruh, well within walking distance of the bazaar district, lay a fertile strip of land bordering the azure sea. Though not a large section of property by any stretch of imagination, it was pleasantly situated, for it was flanked on one side by a lush, green orchard, on the other by a grove of olive trees the color of old silver. In the center of this piece of land�"surrounded by a narrow garden of beans and green peppers�"was the modest, mud-brick home of Yousef Mehra. And it was to here, the house of his beloved grandfather, that young Nawal ran for sympathy. In truth, a day rarely passed that the boy didn’t visit the old man, for Yousef was far more to the active and mischievous child than mere grandfather; he was Nawal’s confidant and dearest friend. The boy brought to Yousef all the daily activities of the busy bazaar�"something his grandfather much enjoyed�"and in return received all the affection and serious attention a boy of his years required. Thus it was Nawal now sought out his grandfather, who lived alone with only himself and his gardens to care for, telling him of the four strangers who came to his father’s shop. As was their habit, they sat in the shade of a single eucalyptus rooted in Yousef’s unpretentious courtyard, Nawal sampling the ripe figs and fruit his grandfather provided, the old man absorbed as always by his spirited chatter. But on this day Nawal found his aged grandfather even more attentive than usual, for he bid the boy retell his story twice, questioning him closely on each small detail. As this wasn’t normal, the boy quickly forgot the uneaten figs in his lap and studied Yousef’s face, becoming alarmed by the old man’s solemn expression. �śAre you ill?” he asked. Lost in his own thoughts, Yousef’s troubled eyes stared out through the open archway of his dusty courtyard towards the wide, flat sea. Young Nawal couldn’t know the chilling effect his story had upon him. Nor could the lad have comprehended the numbing fear gripping the old man’s heart. After all these many years! thought Yousef in amazement. The great evil had come full circle ! �śGrandfather�"?” The old man now looked into the boy’s concerned eyes. He knew what he must do�"and too, the high price he would have to pay. He clutched his grandson’s arms, saying in an urgent voice, �śListen carefully to my every word, Nawal, for you must do exactly as I tell you . Exactly!” * * * The sudden appearance of the thin boy outside the Qaddis entrance didn’t escape Heikal’s notice as he sat beneath the heavy awning of the open-air café. The youngster had seemingly popped out of nowhere; yet despite the late afternoon shadows lengthening across the narrow street, the big man recognized him as the boy who earlier fled the shop on Sharia Galaah. Intrigued, he lowered his cup of coffee, watching as the lad sought an opportunity to gain admittance. His chance came in the form of two veiled women who chose this moment to walk inside. By artfully ducking around them, the boy used their voluminous dresses as camouflage. Heikal nodded in appreciation, for it showed skill. That this was somehow linked to Manning, he felt relatively certain. Within twenty minutes, his supposition proved correct, for the youngster came out with Manning and Gobeir in tow, leading both men quickly up the street. Interesting, Heikal thought; then followed at a discreet distance. * * * As was the Arab fashion, the tea served to David and Lewis in the quiet solitude of the old man’s courtyard was burning hot and cloyingly sweet. Not a fancier of tea in any form, David nevertheless sipped at it stoically, for he understood that to refuse Yousef’s courtesy would be an unpardonable breach of etiquette. He estimated the gentleman to be about the same age as Gobeir, though the wispy, gray beard and long, white robe imparted the image of an aged patriarch in comparison. Curiously, Yousef bore little physical resemblance to his son, Khaleel, for his face was much longer, his thin, arched nose far more pronounced. Also, there was a distinct quality of compassion projecting from his deep-set eyes, an attribute which his son was unlikely to ever possess. The intensity of the day’s heat was easing with the declining sun. Improving things further, a light breeze off the Mediterranean stirred the flowering roses and oleanders clinging to the whitewashed walls of mud brick. Beyond the arched entrance, the boy sat with his back to the sea, content to munch on a handful of figs. The lad would’ve much preferred to sit with them; but for reasons of his own, Yousef wanted him in view, yet not so near as to overhear any of their conversation. It was Rashidi who discovered young Nawal roaming about inside the Qaddis , for the boy had apparently sneaked past the front desk and was working his way down the halls. It was actually ironic, for they had spent the entire afternoon devising various plans to contact him without Khaleel knowing, only to discover the boy literally outside their door. He informed them he was obeying the orders of his grandfather, and insisted only Gobeir and David were to accompany him, for his instructions were very precise and allowed for no alterations. Now, with all the polite formalities finally concluded, they waited to be enlightened by their aged host. Yousef smiled at his two guests; then asked in a soft voice, �śDoes it not intrigue you, Professor, to find an old Bedouin such as myself living out the last years of his life by the sea, far from the desert sands of his birth?” In the glowing residue of the sinking sun, his gaunt face appeared genuinely interested. �śAm I not what you would call an enigma?” Except for the sincere cast of the old man’s eyes, David would’ve taken this rather surprising question to be purely rhetorical. Now it struck him that perhaps this was a curiosity even to Yousef, something he’d never quite resolved to his own satisfaction. Not wishing to offend, he phrased his response carefully. �śI won’t presume to speak for another,” he said, �śbut for myself, I’ve often recognized a certain affinity existing between the ocean and the wide expanse of your western deserts. Perhaps you also perceive it, drawing comfort from their similarity.” Yousef stroked his beard with his fingers, considering this for a long moment. The answer pleased him. There was some truth in this observation, and perhaps wisdom, as well. Now he came to feel a faint optimism that just perhaps these men might have the intelligence to heed the dire warning be must give them. He could only pray it was so. �śI agree with what you say,” he said finally. �śNot unlike the great desert I knew as a child, the sea can be ever changeful in color and mood. And similar, too, in its timeless solitude. Both guard their secrets very well, I think�"and maybe this is as it should be.” He now shifted his eyes to Gobeir. �śMy grandson told me of your visit to my son’s shop. Is it true you came seeking my brother, Nawal?” �śWe did, sir.” �śAnd this on behalf of the young woman whose grandfather once came here to Matruh?” �śThat’s correct. His name was Lionel DeCaylus.” Yousef sighed, briefly closing his eyes. The name was as he remembered. There was no mistake then�"and what last small hope he had fled. So be it! Aloud, he said, �śCould you tell me when exactly this woman’s grandfather died?” Gobeir answered cautiously. �śIt was a tragic accident in Alexandria. August 11, 1956 to be exact. We believe it was shortly after he visited here with your brother Nawal. Apparently, Mr. Decaylus tripped and fell down a�"” A firmly raised hand silenced him. �ś Please say no more. I believe both you gentleman know, as do I, it was no accident that took the wretched man’s life. Nor was it an accident that claimed my dear brother’s life only two days before.” CHAPTER SIXTEEN Yousef told his sad story as the last of the day faded into night. And of necessity, he began with his Bedouin childhood, for this was when the great evil that was to eventually take Nawal’s life first showed its face. He spoke haltingly of this distant time, telling of how he and Nawal were raised with their many older siblings among the nomadic herdsmen in the semi-barren lands to the south. They lived far from the permanent settlements along the fertile coast, and though few in number, their people were reasonably prosperous, moving their herds of sheep and goats with the changing seasons across the western desert. They were largely self-sufficient, but when some essentials were unavailable within their own narrow world they bartered for these things with either the Berber villagers at Qara and Siwah, or with the Awled Ali on the coast. �ś It was only when necessity demanded,” said Yousef, �śthat our father, Kamal, traded with these settlements, for he always felt the Berber tribesmen in particular to be a sly and untrustworthy people. And since our father was muktar, leader of our handful of families, his feelings in such matters were generally followed.” He paused, a brief smile crossing his lips. �śI must tell you, however, Nawal and I never really shared our father’s sentiments, for during our infrequent contacts with Berber children we were always much impressed with their uninhibited ways and many freedoms�"even to the point, I am ashamed to admit, we very early on developed a discontent with our restrictive existence. There is wisdom in the old Bedouin saying that the seeds of rebelliousness find fertile soil in the unsuspecting minds of children, for it was from this humble beginning that Nawal and I began to secretly question and ridicule many of our own long-standing Bedouin traditions. It was only a matter of time before this led to trouble.” And so it happened when Nawal turned twelve and Yousef ten. Their loose band of families wintered that year in the wet regions west of Quseir el-Awatari, and with the approach of spring they gradually moved their herds southward past Qara Oasis until reaching the government wells outside Ain el-Khashab. There they stayed for several weeks, resting their animals in preparation for the difficult days ahead, for it was Kamal’s decision they would drive their herds due west across the high, barren lands north of Siwah Oasis. This was something their people hadn’t attempted in many years. In distant times, this route was once part of a vast network of caravan trails stretching the entire width of North Africa. Now, however, the route was little used, for it was a journey entailing much hardship and great risk. To cross over this desolate land would take a minimum of six long days before reaching the ancient cisterns north of Deir Kohla, with no water to be found in between. Kamal’s willingness to chance this difficult journey was shared by the other families, for three full years had passed since last they traded in the markets of Matruh. They knew once the cisterns were reached, they could then safely graze their herds north to the coast, moving well in advance of the dry summer months and availing themselves of the many government wells along the old road of Masrab el-Istabl. Thus they felt his decision to be an acceptable risk. What Kamal couldn’t foresee, however, was the grave problems that would arise due to the adventurous nature of his two youngest sons. On the third evening into their journey, Kamal’s band pitched their tents north of a high, steep hill crowned with a curious outcropping of jagged rock�"and as the surrounding landscape was extremely flat and barren, this was an intriguing oddity to young Nawal and Yousef. Later, while sitting around the cooking fires of the elders, their curiosity was further aroused to learn this particular place was part of a Bedouin legend going back many centuries. According to local lore, this hill and all the sterile wasteland lying immediately south of it was cursed from time immemorial, forbidden to all desert people under pain of swift and terrible punishment. Existing in an arid place seeing few travelers, the hill was known simply as Gabal el-Qasr; and it truly seemed aptly named to the young boys, for against the blood-red sky of nightfall the shadowed rocks on its crest did indeed appear like the serrated ruins of some long-abandoned castle. As the legend went, Gabal il-Qasr was the abode of a giant and evil jinn known to generations of Bedouin as the Dark One, an ever-vigilant sentinel whose farseeing eyes watched over the bleak lands to the south. Given immortality by the greatest of Old Egypt’s gods, his sole duty was to pass eternity guarding what must never be seen by mortal man. Only swift and violent death awaited those foolish enough to challenge his realm, for it was said his vigilance never wavered, his eyes all-seeing. For Yousef’s older brother, the temptation was irresistible. �śNawal was always far more daring than I,” said Yousef. �śAs fate had it, that night was our turn to watch over the flocks, and he was determined we must somehow investigate this colorful legend. At first I was less eager to undertake this adventure, for being younger I was more impressed than he with the ghostly images conjured up by this strange fable. Yet I allowed myself to be swayed by Nawal’s brave words�"and, too, by the simplicity of his plan. Nor could I imagine any danger from which Nawal could not protect me.” After the encampment was asleep it wasn’t difficult for the two boys to take leave of their responsibilities. Employing a trick known to every Bedouin boy, they carefully heaped their cloaks over two piles of rock, fooling the animals into thinking they were still there. This done, they stole away into the night, using the glow of a rising moon to guide them. For lack of time, the brothers chose to give Gabal el-Qasr, itself, little more than a cursory examination, for it was the desolate land beyond which most piqued Nawal’s interest. Thus they circled around this strangely shaped hill and plunged straight south across the rock-strewn terrain. Unfortunately, in their growing excitement neither boy noticed the recent shift of the night wind. It was now blowing steadily from the northwest, a thing all desert people feared, for it was often a prelude to misfortune. �śWe were no more than an hour into our journey when I came to realize the unusual strength and nature of this wind. The cool night air had turned warm, tiny particles of sand stinging my bare skin. It was at first only a mild irritation, but it gave me pause to consider how far we had distanced ourselves from the safety of the encampment. Gabal el-Qasr was by then well behind us, the pale light of the moon no longer so inviting as before. I grew fearful, but Nawal wasn’t yet prepared to return. In his estimation there remained ample time for further exploration. His goal was to get a better look at a curious ridge ahead of us; like a twisting wall of cut stone, it appeared to be the leading edge of higher terrain beyond. Only a little further, he promised me, then we could start heading back.” Nawal’s error in judgment was soon obvious, for conditions worsened at a rapid pace. The winds became stronger with each passing minute. Too late, they realized their danger. A full-fledged storm was in the making, and the option of returning no longer theirs. Behind them�"to their amazement and shock�"they now saw a towering and impenetrable black curtain suddenly descend across the land, blocking out the moon and engulfing Gabal el-Qasr. More terrifying still, this sand-choked phenomenon was rushing straight at them. �śFearing to be caught in the open,” said Yousef, �śmy brother and I raced in panic towards the ridge as the billowing sea of dust and sand bore down upon us. To this day I cannot describe the terror I felt as the driving sand tore at our scant clothing, pelting our exposed flesh like shards of glass. It was only by pure luck we even reached the base of the cliffs, for by then we were effectively blind, the dust filled air almost unbreathable. Yet even there we would’ve almost certainly smothered but for Nawal’s single-minded determination to find shelter. It seemed hopeless, but he refused to give up. Pulling me by the hand, he stumbled and inched his way along the face of the ridge in search of any kind of refuge�"and all this while the wind howled in our ears like a scream out of hell.” The miracle was the older boy eventually did find something. Probing ahead in the darkness with his free hand, he discovered a place where the rock turned abruptly inward. Whether a cave, or simply a shallow breach in the cliff face, he neither knew nor cared. It promised salvation from the savage wind. Dragging Yousef deep inside this stone sanctuary, he then crouched down with his brother, covering their heads as best he could beneath his own thin garment. Huddled together thus, they waited out the long night as the fierce storm raged and blew around them. It was only with the arrival of a new day that the winds finally abated. As quick as it began, it was over. And when the boys stood, brushing loose sand from their hair and limbs, they saw it was no cave which saved them, but instead the entrance to a long, deep wadi, a valley snaking back as far as they could see between steep, limestone cliffs. As fascinating and tempting a sight as this was, not even Nawal retained the appetite for further exploration. Tired, thirsty�"and dreading the expected anger of their father�"they made their way back to the encampment. What they found was a shambles. The severity of the winds had taken its toll. Their people’s herds were widely scattered, many animals lost. And the one who took the greatest losses was Kamal, for when the storm first struck and all his sons were needed, two were nowhere to be found. His initial relief at finding them alive and unhurt didn’t save the boys from a sound beating. Nor did they escape the righteous anger and condemnation of those who also suffered damage to their property, for it was now believed this terrible thing wouldn’t have happened but for the contempt these boys had shown for Bedouin ways. Surely they alone were to blame for this terrible calamity, they reasoned, for it was obvious that the Dark One of Gabal el-Qasr had lashed out at their encampment solely because of the boy’s reckless undertaking. The scorn and resentment heaped on Nawal and Yousef didn’t lessen over the next three days. It was their deep hope all would be forgotten once they reached the cisterns north of Deir Kohla, but this proved not to be. If anything, the anger and distrust shown them only hardened�"and in the ensuing weeks as they made their way northward to Matruh it didn’t escape the attention of Kamal that his two youngest sons were being openly shunned. Not only by other families, but their own older siblings, as well. �śThis greatly saddened our father,” said Yousef, �śfor he knew this situation was unlikely to ever improve. And though he recognized we had certainly brought this upon ourselves, he was by nature a thoughtful and compassion man. Thus it was that he began pondering how best to resolve the problem.” His surprising solution came later that summer, just days after their arrival outside Matruh. Early one morning, Kamal took both boys deep into the town’s bazaar district. Upon reaching the small shop of an elderly man and his gentile wife, he informed his sons this childless couple had agreed to take them in, teaching them the metalworking trade. Not only was this their new home, he told them, but they would now also attend a British school recently established in Matruh for Arab boys. Bewildered by this sudden turn of events�"and by Kamal’s absolute resolve�"they could only stare after their father in stunned disbelief as he bid them farewell and retraced his steps up the crowded street. Perhaps sensing his sons’ eyes upon him, he never once looked back. �śWe knew the fault was ours alone,” said Yousef, �śand so we had no recourse but to make the best of our situation. For myself, I soon discovered I had some talent in the working of metal. Dividing my time between school and my duties to the kindly old couple who took us in, I found a growing contentment over the following years. Unfortunately, this wasn’t so with Nawal. Though we remained as close as before, it was no secret that deep down he was never truly at ease here. Unlike me, he found difficulty adapting to our new condition, and though always quicker of mind, he never really distinguished himself in school. Truth be known, even then I knew it was only a matter of time before he must leave to seek his fortune elsewhere.” It came in early spring of their sixth year in Matruh. With the recent passing of the old couple, the small business now belonged to the two brothers. Perhaps feeling his obligation to them was over, Nawal informed Yousef of his decision to go in search of more satisfying work. It grieved Yousef to see his older brother depart, but he could not fault him, for he knew better than anyone of Nawal’s restless nature. �śI will not detain you gentlemen longer than necessary with my ramblings of things long past,” Yousef said in a weary voice. �śI saw little of my brother over the next several years. Though half of the shop and this property was rightfully his, he returned home only infrequently, taking regular employment at various excavations along the Nile valley. It was work he enjoyed, and with his facility in English, he established himself as a valued worker. I was truly happy for him.” He paused. �śDuring his longest absence I’d wed a local girl of the Awled Ali, and we were awaiting the birth of our first child when Nawal arrived unexpectedly in the company of another man. My brother’s leg had been badly hurt in a rockslide some weeks before, but he was by then much healed and able to walk without real difficulty.” Yousef nodded. �ś Their stay was brief. Only a matter of hours passed before they drove south on the Masrab il-Istabl towards Siwah. But even then I knew it was not their intention to reach the oasis. Nawal was taking this man to the barren lands south of Gabal el-Qasr, seeking the hidden wadi we discovered as boys.” �śHe told you this?” �śNot directly, Professor, but I knew it was so. When they returned to Matruh several days later, I also knew my brother and this man had found something of great importance, for never before did I see such a light burning in Nawal’s eyes. What exactly it was, I never learned. If you gentlemen have knowledge of it�"which I believe you do�"it is still a secret I’ve no desire to share. Whatever it was, it cost my dear brother his life and is surely cursed.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. �ś Mr. DeCaylus left for Alexandria almost immediately, and I never saw him again. Nor did I expect to. On the following morning my brother’s body was pulled from the sea beneath the very cliffs just beyond where my grandson now sits. All believed Nawal must surely have slipped and fallen to his death. But I knew it was no accident! The fate of my brother and Mr. DeCaylus was sealed the very moment they violated that desolate valley. It could end no other way.” He looked pointedly at his guests. �śI’ve no doubt you both think me mad to believe this, but I will tell you now what I never told another. With my own eyes I saw the moment of Nawal’s death�"and I could not live with myself if I did not give you warning of your own dire peril!” �ś You actually saw it happen?” asked David. �śAs Allah is my witness, it is so. Concerned as I was for Nawal, I was unable to sleep that night; and when I discovered his bed empty, I sought him out, knowing I would find him pacing above the cliffs. It was an old habit of his, a thing he did often when restless or troubled in spirit. And so it was, for beneath the newly risen moon I saw him clearly against the night sky. But when I drew near, my heart stood still in my breast to see a huge shape suddenly loom up out of the darkness�"rising out of the very ground itself!�"seizing Nawal as a grown man might snatch up a small animal of no significance. Stunned, I could neither move nor cry out, only stare in horror as the Dark One effortlessly hoisted him into the air and cast him to his death. It was over in an instant, and in my terror and anguish I fell to my knees, making no sound to give my presence away. Understand, I loved my brother above all men and am no coward�"but it was no mortal being that claimed Nawal’s life! This I believe with all my heart!” Yousef now abruptly rose, conveying the message it was time for them to leave. �śI only pray you heed my words,” he said in parting. �śTake your friends and return from whence you came. Forget whatever it was those poor men found�"for I tell you it is cursed far beyond your imagining. In their footsteps is only death.” * * * �ś Now what the deuce are we to make of all that?” said Gobeir as they followed the boy back into town. It was already well past sunset, the lad a dozen paces ahead, clearly more intent on leading them safely to their hotel than listening in on their conversation. �śEven if what the old fellow says is only partially true, then I guess there’s no question that Lionel really was murdered a few days later in Alexandria.” �ś Partially true?” �ś Well, you know, all that business about an evil spirit�"or whatever he called it�"rising out of the ground and tossing Nawal off a cliff.” He shook his head slightly. �śTo give him his due, however, I don’t doubt he really did see Nawal killed that night; but as to who actually did it, obviously his judgment was shaped by his own superstitious beliefs. Small wonder he kept quiet about it all these years. He probably figured his silence on the whole matter was his only security.” �śYet you must admit, it certainly is an intriguing story.” �ś True enough, but I still have to wonder how much credence we can put in it. I mean, the man clearly has a vivid imagination. Even if this valley does exist, how do we know that’s where Lionel and Nawal really went? Nawal never actually told Yousef outright, now did he? The old fellow just assumed it was their destination. He even admitted as much.” David smiled to himself, knowing full well Gobeir was every bit as excited by all this as he was, merely playing devil’s advocate and forcing them to examine every possible angle. And he was quite right to do so. �ś Be that as it may, Lewis, we both know the only way we’re ever going to know is to check it out ourselves. Whether we believe him or not, it’s all we’ve got. Me, I think he’s telling us the truth.” He paused long enough for the boy to get even further ahead. �śWhen we left Alexandria our suspicion was Lionel was chasing down a local legend somehow tied to Siwah Oasis�"and that’s exactly what Yousef gave us. It’s too perfect to dismiss, particularly the business about the area being protected by �Śthe greatest of old Egypt’s gods’. If that’s not a reference to Amun, then what the hell is? The only part still puzzling me is the killings, themselves. Everything we have says Lionel and Nawal tackled this alone from start to finish, right? We’ve already ruled out Cameron. So who else could’ve known what they were up to and followed them here?” Gobeir thought on this; then speculated, �śPerhaps we’re looking at this backwards, old boy. Isn’t it just as possible the killer was already here in Matruh? Or even the valley itself? Maybe he knew what was hidden in there all along. When Lionel and Nawal show up, he figures there’s only one sure way to silence them.” �śMaybe so.” In front of them, young Nawal abruptly stopped and pointed up the street at the hotel entrance. Before they could thank him, he turned and ran back into the night, his task accomplished. As they entered the hotel lobby a middle-aged clerk glanced up from his newspaper and caught David’s attention. �śMy apologies for this afternoon’s difficulties, Mr. Manning,” he said, �śbut if you wish to try again, I believe you can now put your call through to Cairo. The problem with the lines appears to have cleared.” �śGood,” he said, then glanced at his wristwatch, thinking at this hour Bayoumi would already be at home, not the museum. Nevertheless, he knew he really should call him. �śYou go on ahead,” said Gobeir. He pointed into the coffee shop. Behind the glass partition Elizabeth and Rashidi were seated at one of the five small tables. As yet, neither had spotted them. �śI’ll start filling them in before we come up. We’re going to have to decide what’s to be done about all this.” * * * Yousef Mehra was fully resigned to his fate. Now alone in the stillness of his modest house, he sat on the edge of his narrow cot and gazed at the single paraffin lamp flickering on the low table before him. The ominous quiet around him was as the silence of death�"which he knew it to be. Believing himself doomed, he made no effort to secure his doors, for he recognized the utter futility of doing so. The Dark One had spared him once. It was unimaginable he would do so again. He felt empty, much as he felt that terrible night so many years before. But for all his growing trepidation, he didn’t regret the disclosure made to these people. They had to be warned; if his life was now forfeit, then so be it. He was ready. His life had been long and full�"and unlike before, he no longer bore the burden of a young wife and unborn child to protect. The wrath of the Dark One would fall on him alone, for no member of his family ever knew the secret of Nawal’s death. Thus his son and beloved grandson must surely be spared. Aloud, he whispered into the darkness, �śGladly will I confess all my transgressions, if only to ensure this be so. My fate I meet willingly if I can but bargain for the protection and safety of�"” The words died in his mouth. He dropped his hand from his brow, instinctively aware that he was no longer alone. No sound alerted him. No movement. But he knew! A stern voice filled the room. �śAnd what will you confess to me?” The voice was hard, mocking, and the old man lifted his head, dreading what he must behold. A dark mass, its shadow huge against the white plaster wall, faced him across the table. Standing just outside the lamp’s tiny circle of light, the figure stared down at him through flat, slate-colored eyes, chilling him to the very bone. They were those of a predatory animal; cold, deadly, somehow outside humanity. He swallowed, averting his face from this frightening visage. �śI�"I knew you would come . . .” �śThen make your confession now,” said Heikal. �śTell me everything.” * * * Omar Bayoumi’s obvious agitation registered over the phone, his hurried speech difficult to follow. Too, the connection wasn’t all that good. The phone service in Egypt was notoriously poor. There was a rap on the door and Elizabeth stuck her head inside, Gobeir and Rashidi right behind. He waved them in. �ś Say again, Omar? Slow down, I didn’t catch all that. Haleem brought a what to your office?” �śA newspaper clipping from yesterday’s daily,” repeated Bayoumi. �śHe said to pass it on the minute I saw or heard from you. He also left a message. I’m to tell you that�"his words, mind you�"�Śthe crazy devil survived’. It apparently has something to do with the killing out in Matariyah.” �śKilling? What killing?” �śThat’s right, you probably never heard. It was in all the locals here, but you would’ve already left for Alexandria. It was a rather gruesome affair from what I hear. A Coptic nun was murdered the night before last at one of the Ghali clinics out by�"” �ś A Ghali clinic?” David rose unsteadily to his feet, numbed by what was unfolding. �śThe article, does it give the woman’s name?” �ś Yes, it’s�"now give me a second and�"ah, here it is. Her name was Leila Mahfouz. The poor woman was brutally tortured with a knife. David, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if you have any knowledge about who�"?” David was no longer listened. Alarm bells were going off in his head . Tortured to death? The big bastard did more than just survive the explosion! Then it hit him. Oh, Christ�"Mehra! He put the phone back to his ear. �śOmar, I can’t explain right now, but I’m putting Lewis on the line. Tell him everything you just told me.” Thrusting the phone into Gobeir’s unprepared hands, he dashed for the door, ignoring their bewildered expressions as he ran out into the hall. By the time Elizabeth found her voice, he was already descending the stairs, taking them two steps at time. �śWhat is it?” she shouted after him. �śWhere are you going?” There wasn’t time to answer. Only one concern dominated his mind as he raced out into the street. Well over an hour had elapsed since they left Yousef alone. God, it might already be too late! CHAPTER SEVENTEEN David quickly discovered how the unlit back streets and alleys of Matruh acquired a frustrating sameness about them once the sun was down. He should’ve paid closer attention, he now realized, to the boy’s various shortcuts. It was full daylight back then. Now everything looked entirely different, the night either distorting or obliterating the vague landmarks he remembered. The alleyways were a virtual maze. Twice he became confused, forced to gamble on direction. His first choice proved correct, the second leading him down a blind end with no recourse but to backtrack. Angry with himself for loosing precious seconds, he raced down yet another that seemed more promising. On emerging, he felt a quick surge of relief. He knew where he was! Across the open ground were familiar pinpoint reflections dancing off the sea; not far ahead the tall, black copse of trees he and Gobeir had passed beneath on their way back. Just beyond would be the dirt road leading out of town. He ran as fast as he dared, lengthening his stride even though his lungs were beginning to ache from the exertion. Scarcely five minutes had elapseed, yet he already felt like he’d been running for an hour. It was the damn cigarettes! He should’ve given them up years ago! Ahead on his right he could just make out the wide grove of olive trees flanking one side of Mehra’s home. The old man’s narrow driveway must be just around�" There! That’s it! David slowed, allowing his pulse a chance to settle as he approached the darkened house. He covered the final ten yards at a walk, increasingly more conscious of his surroundings�"and hoping this was all for naught. Everything appeared peaceful enough. If the old man was in any danger, the evidence sure as hell wasn’t apparent. The curtained windows were drawn and dark, the stillness so peaceful he began feeling like an unwelcome intruder. Yet he’d come too far to simply back away. He must be certain . . . Taking deep breaths, he felt his way around the mud brick wall of the back courtyard, his senses alert for any strange noise or sudden movement. The wooden gate of the arched entrance still remained open�"though by itself, this told him nothing. Perhaps Yousef never closed it at night. Inside, everything appeared as before. He edged into the courtyard, scanning the dark shrubbery at the base of the walls and probing the deep shadow beneath the single eucalyptus. Nothing seemed out of place, the silence total. Maybe too quiet? Adding further to his unease, the face of the moon now chose this moment to break through the wispy night clouds. It bathed the courtyard with an eerie clarity�"and disclosed something he might’ve otherwise missed. The door leading into Mehra’s house was ajar by several inches! Leaving the gate open was plausible. But the door? He advanced with caution, now more aware than ever he was completely unarmed. Raising his hand, he put pressure on the door, letting it swing inward. Beyond was a murky, black void. His eyes were slow to adjust as he stepped inside. Finally, some recognizable forms began to slowly take shape. Two straight-backed chairs, a couch of some sort with a low table beside it . . . And something else! He froze as the faint scent of smoke and hot wax reached his nostrils. Sometime in just the past few minutes a lamp or candle had been extinguished! By yousef�" or another? Too late, his eyes snapped towards the wall, for the answer now hurled at him from across the room, driving him hard against the frame of the door. The air burst from his lungs, and he felt as if the entire house had fallen in on him. Struggling to regain his breath, he couldn’t dodge the massive arm that slammed into his side and literally hurled him back outside. He landed heavily on his shoulder, yet managed to roll out of the way as a huge figure charged past heading for the back end of the courtyard. Still gasping for air, he sat up, catching a quick glimpse of his assailant dashing through the arched entrance. Silhouetted against the backdrop of the night sky, the man appeared a full head taller and twice as broad�"and unless something was done quickly, he was going to get away! David heaved himself to his feet and made for the section of wall abutting the house. Leaping, he caught hold of the top, hoisting himself up. As he did so, a brick came loose in his hand, giving him the weapon he needed. Below him, the man was running towards the gravel drive, already past the point where he could be intercepted head-on. His only recourse was to dive at the receding figure and hope for the best. The big man grunted in surprise as David piled into his back, pitching them both forward onto the ground. They rolled through the dark, David feeling the enormous strength of his opponent as they wrestled for the upper hand. Finding himself no match at such close quarters, he tried pulling back as they both scrambled to their feet, only to have his legs kicked out from under him. Worse yet, he fell back into the unyielding base of the wall, the impact dislodging the brick from his hand. The man gave him no chance to retrieve it, lunging for his throat and lifting him effortlessly up against the rough wall. David clutched the thick wrists, straining every muscle to break the grip�"but the fingers around his neck only tightened, squeezing off his windpipe. The man’s strength was awesome, his relentless fingers closing like bands of steel. Desperate to break this lethal hold, he drove his fist as hard as he could into the man’s ribs. Incredibly, it had no effect. He struck again, realizing he might just as well be pummeling the trunk of a tree! The man absorbed all he had without so much as flinching, seeming more machine than human. The sound of a racing engine jerked the man’s head around, his course features now visible in the sweeping glare of headlights arcing across the olive grove. A car had turned off at the road and was now racing up the narrow drive. A few seconds more and it would be at the front of the house. The distraction gave David a last opportunity. Gathering what remained of his flagging strength, he forced his hands up between the massive arms and stabbed his thumbs at his opponent’s eyes. It forced the head back, giving him the leverage and angle he sought. Kicking out, he drove his knee as hard as he could into the man’s groin. A visible flash of rage shot through the brute’s eyes. Releasing his grip, he lurched backwards, allowing David to slide to the ground. By rights, the man should be doubled up in agony; instead he appeared more surprised than hurt. Almost reluctantly, he turned away from the advancing car and plunged into the grove of trees. Too weakened to follow, David struggled back up on his feet as the car skidded to a stop. Elizabeth leaped out of the passenger door and ran to him before Rashidi could even shut off the engine. Gobeir was right behind her as she threw herself into his arms. �śAre you alright?” she cried. �śGod, I was so frightened for you! We got lost trying to find this�"this�"” �ś It’s okay,” he whispered, though still panting. �śReally.” �ś We saw him in the headlights and�"” �ś I know,” he soothed, holding her tightly. �śHe won’t be back.” Gobeir’s face was equally anxious. �śFrom what we saw, you were definitely getting the worst of it. I’m just damn glad we got here when we did.” He wiped at his furrowed brow with his fingers. �śWhy the bloody hell didn’t you wait for us?” �ś I didn’t think there was time. And I’m afraid I was right.” Rashidi returned from the edge of the grove. �śThere’s no sign of him, Professor. Probably long gone by now. Was it the same man from the monastery?” David nodded. �ś I must’ve surprised him when I�"” He stopped, remembering, then took Elizabeth’s shoulders and passed her over to Gobeir. �śAhmed and I have to go back inside, Lewis. Put her in the car and keep the doors locked until we come out.” She started to protest, but Gobeir held her tight. �śLet’s do as he says, my dear. They won’t be long.” David led the way. The room was as silent as before. Probing the darkness, Rashidi bumped into the low table. �śThere’s a paraffin lamp here,” he said. �śGive me a second and I’ll�"” �ś That won’t be necessary, Ahmed.” He’d already found what he sought. Igniting his lighter, he held it over the piece of furniture he earlier mistook for a couch. It was a narrow bed. Yousef lay face up on it, his eyes open, his thin arms limp at his sides. Rashidi knelt, feeling for a pulse that wasn’t there. �śHe’s dead, Professor,” he confirmed. �śBut I don’t see any sign of a wound anywhere.” �ś That’s because he was smothered.” David stooped, picking up a heavy, brocaded pillow from off the floor. �śThe bastard used this instead of his knife to finish him off. Probably just before I came in. Apparently, torture wasn’t necessary to find out what he wanted to know. The pillow was his attempt to make it appear as if Yousef simply died in his sleep.” Rashidi stood, heaving a sigh. �ś And maybe it’s the way we should leave it,” he said. �śFor now, perhaps it’s best to let people think just that. We can discuss it back at the hotel, but at this moment I don’t see what possible good can come of reporting this to the police.” He paused, turning his face to David. �śBesides, whatever would we tell them?” They left everything as it was and returned to the car. Rashidi drove. David sat in the back with Elizabeth, holding her in his arms and thinking it wasn’t going to be easy getting the old Bedouin’s face out of his mind. In all likelihood, the body would be discovered tomorrow. He just hoped it would be Khaleel, not young Nawal. The poor lad deserved better. * * * Heikal consumed the better part of an hour returning to his rented car parked one street over from the Qaddis . Caution dictated a circuitous route. The last thing he wanted was another encounter with Manning, though any risk of this happening was slight. However, he must be careful, for it was definitely proving a night for unusual occurrences. Perhaps weirdest of all, he thought, was the obliging nature of the old man. A true puzzle. Incredibly, he seemed to be waiting for him, wanting to tell all. Even more inexplicable, the pathetic old fool offered no resistance when the pillow was pressed to his face. Except for Manning’s untimely intrusion, it was near perfect. Two minutes more and he could’ve been out of the house with no one the wiser. Now his only consolation was in knowing it was Oristano must eventually give the order to eliminate Manning and his three friends. And with all the information Heikal now possessed, that time was rapidly approaching. This pleasing prospect was on his mind as he drove through the deserted streets. After what happened tonight, he was going to enjoy killing Manning. In fact, he was quite looking forward to it. When reaching the town’s main harbor, he parked in the unlit gravel lot adjacent to the public docks, then walked out onto the concrete pier. Three hundred yards out a weathered chain of high rocks jutted straight up from the black surface of the sea, forming the outer loop of Matruh’s famed lagoon. Somewhere beyond it the Media lay at anchor. He found the modest launch tied off near the pier’s end. Bored with waiting, Pauley was stretched out fast asleep on the bottom of the boat, his head supported on a plastic seat cushion. Climbing in, Heikal woke him with an ungentle prod of his foot. * * * The two men sat on the extended aft-deck of Medea’s flying bridge until well after midnight; and having told the events of the past twenty-four hours, Heikal waited as his solemn-faced employer contemplated their next move. Oristano knew the critical importance of the next several hours. Success or failure teetered in the balance. Their future actions must be thought out carefully. Due to the circumstances of Heikal’s unfortunate encounter with Manning, his own direct involvement was now unavoidable. It wasn’t the way he normally liked to conduct business, but so be it. As much as he preferred pulling strings from a safe distance, he sure as hell wasn’t about to let the treasure of a lifetime slip through his fingers for lack of taking a few risks. Still, he understood the incalculable value of maintaining a cool head. It was his long-held opinion that reckless bravado was never an acceptable substitute for intelligent prudence. Yet in this instance, he also knew, his choices were going to be limited. What he really needed was more time�"but time was now something in damned short supply. He got up from his cushioned chair and stepped over to the railing, watching the moon’s reflected light cast a purplish tinge over the muted shoreline. He recognized his initial anger with Heikal was more instinctive than rational. The big man had actually done quite well. Considering the information he gained�"and how close Heikal came to pulling it off�"he really couldn’t fault the decision to enter the old man’s house. How could he? Given the identical set of circumstances, he’d probably have done the same. In fairness, it was simply bad luck that Manning showed up when he did. Too late to worry about it now. He took another deep drag from his cigarette, expelling the smoke into the night air. He considered the problem, now wondering if perhaps he was looking at this from the wrong angle. Was Manning’s return really a setback? Maybe not. He pondered this, thinking perhaps he’d been too hasty in his judgment. Might not this actually work in to his advantage? The longer he reflected on its ramifications, the more confident he became. The taped conversations Heikal made in Alexandria had given him a clearer insight into the workings of Manning’s mind. Would the good professor be any more inclined to contact the police now than he was after the killing of Hassan? Not likely. Why, he’d have to be insane to even consider it. The logic of this was compelling. Damn, but didn’t all this put Manning in a box? If the professor assumes�"as he now must�"others now know of the old man’s secret valley, then his only viable option will be to try and reach it as soon as possible. And this suited Oristano just fine. After all, he reasoned, wasn’t finding the treasure precisely what he hoped Manning would do all along? Over his shoulder, he said, �śSo, tell me, Sabir, just how much to you know about this desert region the old man described?” Heikal shifted in his chair. �ś Almost nothing,” he admitted. �śI’ve been to Siwah only once�"and that over twenty years ago, long before the government travel restrictions were put on. But I do know a straight line between Qara and the old Masrab el-Istabl cuts through some of the driest and most desolate land in all of Egypt.” He paused. �śYou’re certain they’ll go in search of this valley?” �ś Guaranteed, my friend. If the treasure exists, then it’s there.” �ś If you’re so convinced, then let me kill them now, right here in Matruh. With the four of them dead, we’d be the only ones alive who know of its existence.” Oristano dismissed this with a jerk of his head. �ś And just how would you propose doing that?” he asked. �śBreak into their rooms and slit their throats? Maybe blow up their hotel?” He took a last drag on his cigarette before flipping it out into the darkness. �śNo, Sabir, we’ll let them continue their little hunting expedition. The smart move is to let them to do what they’re trained for�"only we’ll be right there if and when they succeed. Be patient. Why eliminate anyone until it becomes absolutely necessary?” Heikal accepted this reasoning. �śThen we’ve got other problems to solve, don’t we? It’s going to take some time and effort to gather up everything we’ll need. There’s vehicles, provisions, the best available maps�"all easier for Manning to acquire than us. You given this any thought?” �ś I’ve a few ideas, yes. But we can discuss it further in the morning. Go get some sleep. Ari has a suite prepared for you. We can finalize everything tomorrow.” Oristano remained by the railing for some time after the big man left, listening to the light surf breaking on the distant rocks and allowing his imagination to soar. Was the greatest single prize of antiquity actually out there? It boggled the mind to even think it. Like almost everyone, he knew Alexander had once traveled to Siwah to consult with the Oracle. But was it actually possible that the greatest conqueror of the ancient world came this way a second time�" a time hundreds of years after his own death? He always felt most comfortable when dealing with proven facts and logical probabilities. But this! This went far beyond anyone’s wildest conjecture, for if true it would easily be the best-kept secret of the ages. East of Paraetonium, Egypt, 71 C.E. �ś Do you see it, master?” asked Nebnefer. The tiny point of light was very faint on the night horizon, yet constant, surely no figment of the imagination. If anything, it seemed to grow stronger as the Horus heaved ever closer to the black coastline. He now pointed with his outstretched arm. �śSee? Left of the bow!” �ś Just barely,” replied Satepihu. �śBut there should be�"” �ś There! Another is close beside it. I can see both!” �ś Your eyes are sharper than mine.” The High Priest rested his hand on the young priest’s strong shoulder. �śOrder the sail brought down, and inform the helmsman he has his target. Have you instructed him what to do?” Nebnefer nodded. �śHe’s confident in his ability to steer the Horus between them. The incoming tide and high winds are still in our favor. They will take us into the inlet. His biggest fear is we may run onto unseen shoals before reaching the beach. Perhaps I should put a lookout up on�"” �ś It won’t be necessary,” said Satepihu. �śThere will be no shoals.” �ś Master?” The High Priest smiled at the younger man. �śConsider what we’ve done over these past two days. Do you think Amun would bring us this far, only to have our efforts dashed upon rocks?” Nebnefer lowered his head. �śNo master.” �ś Then go and do as I bid you. Trust in His protection. All will go as planned.” And so it did. With a full six hours of darkness remaining before dawn, the Horus was not only solidly beached within the narrow cove, but all of Menna’s young soldiers were hard at work alongside Nebnefer’s priests, loading the first wagons with the upper layer of grain from the ships massive cargo hold. Content all was going as planned, Satepihu took both Nebnefer and Menna aside for a brief consultation. �ś Once the bags of grain are all fully loaded,” he said to Nebnefer, �śI want them to leave immediately. One priest per wagon. We will need all of Menna’s people here, plus the rest of the priests to finish this. How many wagons will this leave us?” �ś Forty. Perhaps a few more.” �ś Will this be enough?” Nebnefer hesitated; then said, �śIt will depend on how much wood we afterward strip from the Horus . Our first estimate may put us short.” �ś Then keep the grain wagons down to ten. Whatever doesn’t get loaded will have to be scattered. For our purpose, the wood is more important. In the meantime, you best set your carpenters to cutting through the bow’s hull right away. The weight of our real cargo can then be carried straight out to the wagons. Go and see to this now.” Nebnefer hurried to obey. �ś You’ve done well, Menna,” said Satepihu. �śWas it difficult bringing all these wagons and mules here in secret?” �ś No more so than expected, master. We came by little-known routes, well away from those generally used.” �ś And you’ve made all the necessary preparations for our long trip?” �ś All that you instructed has been done.” Satepihu was silent for a time, now pondering the potential problem of the galley. He then asked, �śHow close does the nearest road pass to this cove?” �ś Not close, master. On horseback, perhaps an hour.” �ś And what have your lookouts reported? Any caravans in the vicinity?” Becoming confused as to where this was going, Menna said, �śThe only one of which I’m aware is coming out of Alexandria�"but it’s at least another three days before it crosses south of here.” This was as the High Priest hoped. �ś Good. Then listen to what I now tell you,” he said. �śI know you have much yet to accomplish this night, my friend, but I have one more task for you before we leave.” �ś Whatever it is will be done, master.” �ś It disturbs me greatly that much of the Horus will remain for others to eventually stumble upon. What I want is for you to bring in all of your outriders now and set them to digging as large a pit as they are able. I will instruct Nebnefer to leave the wagon holding all the necessary tools and equipment needed. When we have removed all the wood our excess wagons can haul, they will remain behind for another two full days. Their task is to cut away all they can in this period, then stack and bury it in the pit. Whatever remains must then be burned to the best of their ability. Then and only then are they to follow. Do you understand?” �ś It will be as you say.” Satisfied, Satepihu, now stood alone and watched all the bustling activity around him. Everything was proceeding as planned. But he knew their long journey was only just beginning. So far to go. And so very much yet to be done! CHAPTER EIGHTEEN It was approaching two o’clock before Gobeir and Rashidi finally left David’s room to retire for the night. They did so knowing Ruth Lefebvre hadn’t suffered the same fate as Leila Mahfouz and Yousef Mehra. A late call to Al Gami by Gobeir confirmed her to be alive and well. Thankfully�"and for reasons as yet unknown�"the trail of horror had skipped over her. Elizabeth remained; much calmer, but not completely over the trauma of the evening’s events. On one point the four of them were in total agreement: if they were to thwart the plans of this vicious killer from Cairo, then an immediate attempt must be made to locate Nawal’s mysterious valley. The secret was now definitely out. Any delay would put whatever was there in jeopardy. Speed was now the overriding factor. However, it left David with many unresolved questions�"not the least of which was his growing concern for Elizabeth’s safety. Holding her in his arms, he wondered when he first realized he was in love with her. The physical desire had always been present; but it took their current situation to finally expose the real depths of his feelings�"and more incredible to him, the knowledge that his feelings were actually returned. But it carried a hefty price tag. Short of taking her straightway out of Egypt�"effectively abandoning Lionel’s discovery to plunderers�"how else was he to ensure no harm would befall her? Any attempt to achieve one objective at the cost of the other was no real solution, he knew, but what else was left to him? He simply wouldn’t gamble with her life. No matter what the prize. �ś We’ve got to talk . . .” �ś Don’t say it, David,” she said, her arms tightening about his neck as she lifted her cheek off his shoulder. �śI know what you’re thinking, what you’ve been waiting to tell me.” She looked up into his face, her eyes resolute, her voice determined. �śI’m going with you, and there’s absolutely nothing you, or Lewis�"or anyone �"can say that will change my mind. So don’t even try.” He shook his head. �śThink what you’re saying. After all that’s happened�"what we now know�"it’s just far too dangerous to even consider.” �ś You can’t stop me,” she insisted. �śPlease, David. It’s what I want to do. What I must do! This thing�"whatever it is�"cost my grandfather his life. And people are still dying because of it!” She swallowed. �śI won’t say it doesn’t scare the hell out of me, because it does. But I won’t be left out of it, either. We’ve come too far. We started this together, and we’re going to finish it together!” He gripped her shoulders, exasperated and touched by her obstinacy�"and wanting her all the more. �śIs it worth risking your life over? How can I let you�"” �ś You might ask yourself the same question.” �ś It’s not the same, Elizabeth.” �ś It is! Damn it, I’m not a child. I know full well what I’m getting into. But I can no more back away from this than you could! And even if I was willing�"which I’m absolutely not!�"just where would I go? Alexandria? Cairo? To Cape Cod? Whoever this maniac is, he’s already killed twice just to find out what we know. Can you honestly say I’ll somehow be safer if I stay out of this?” She waited, placing her hands alongside his worried face. �śYou can’t promise that, can you?” He knew she was right. �ś You truly feel this strongly about it?” �ś Yes, I do,” she said, her voice softer. Her slender arms encircled his neck yet again, and the warmth of her breath came as a sensual caress on his cheek. �śAnd besides, my stubborn darling, whether you know it or not, I’ve waited a long time for you to come into my life�"and I’m not about to let you out of my sight for one single moment. Not now. Not ever.” David drew her to him, seeking and finding her mouth; and the straining press of their bodies ignited the long-denied passion existing between them. Her lips were moist, sweet beyond belief or imagining, and when they parted under his he felt her quiver with desire. Enfolding her even tighter, he kissed her with all the ardor of someone who has thirsted far too long, and every fiber of his being thrilled at the urgent intensity of her response. Time ceased to have meaning as he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed. Their first physical union was passionate, near frenzied, for it seemed he couldn’t have enough of her. Nor her of him. Was it hours that slipped past, he later wondered, or merely prolonged minutes of endless and exquisite ecstasy? He neither knew nor cared while in her embrace. They spoke little, for beyond the soft murmurings of continued discovery and mutual pleasure, they intuitively knew words were unnecessary. Lying naked and entwined in the silky darkness, they were aware only of the glorious sexual gratification each held in abundance for the other�"and when they later made love yet again, it was for both of them even sweeter and more satisfying than before. The first faint rays of dawn were just beginning to spill through the window when David finally succumbed to exhaustion. He lay with his cheek against her soft shoulder, his arm around her waist, still possessive even in sleep. Though equally tired, Elizabeth remained awake, her eyes tracing the planes and contours of his slumbering face, unwilling to abandon consciousness for fear this might all somehow become mere dream. The deep contentment was too intense to relinquish, the emotional afterglow too strong not to savor to its fullest. But for all her happiness, she also knew the acute fear abiding deep within all lovers, the knowledge she might somehow lose that which had become the dearest thing in her life. This danger was all too real. And it was solely due to her that David must now be exposed to it, for she had purposely lied to him. She wasn’t nearly as determined to see this through as she led him to believe. Yet it was a necessary deception. Without it, David would be forced to make a terrible choice in a no-win situation. He would sacrifice everything to protect her. She believed this with all her heart�"just as she also knew the price it would eventually exact on both of them. How long, she wondered, before the consequences of this would inevitably erode his feelings for her? A year? Only months? Her lie had effectively removed any chance of this happening. The simple truth of the matter was, for all her confident words, she really was capable of walking away from solving her grandfather’s mystery if that’s what it took to keep David safe and with her always. Now she only prayed she’d done the right thing. * * * �ś The old girl is Russian, of course,” said Mahmoud Wassef, �śand hardly what you would call a beauty. But she’s both capable and sound, and gives excellent service. Acquiring her on such short notice was no mean feat, for my cousin Ammar was extremely reluctant to rent her out. I had to give him my personal assurances you gentlemen wouldn’t abuse her in any way.” The midday heat was at its zenith, and he looked from David to Gobeir with an expectant smile, understandably eager to adjourn to the comfort of his office. �śSo then, she is acceptable to you, yes?” Gobeir looked a bit dubious, but willing to defer to David’s judgment in the matter. �śIt’s up to you, old boy. Think she’ll do?” The object of this discussion was a badly dented GAZ-69 light truck, somewhat bigger than the desert jeep parked alongside it in the ministry lot. In David’s estimation she appeared more than adequate as the necessary backup vehicle needed to haul the bulk of their provisions. He’d seen these models before, and didn’t doubt their reliability. Initially used as combat support vehicles within Egypt’s Armed forces in the late eighties, many had long since made the transition to civilian use throughout the country. He walked around her a second time, fingering the patchwork canvas covering that bore little resemblance to the original. Wassef was right about one thing; she’d definitely seen better days. Yet despite her battered appearance, the truck’s transmission seemed fine, and there remained plenty of good tread on the tires. Too, the short test drive outside of town had pretty much eased his initial concern about the soundness of the engine. All things considered, he saw no major problems. �ś Well,” he said to an anxious Wassef, �śif this is the best we can get, I guess your cousin has himself a deal.” The man’s heavy face expanded into a wide grin of satisfaction. �ś Excellent, Professor! I was worried you might not approve of my choice.” He stepped to the rear of the truck and lifted back a section of the covering. �śAs you can see, I’ve taken the liberty of providing a couple of extra gasoline cans, three large water containers, plus a spare tire and battery.” He dropped the flap, moving to the second vehicle. �śAnd as you’ve already seen, the jeep has its own spare tire and is in excellent condition. In case of any emergency, there’s a two-way radio, of course, and you’ll also find a flare gun and an assortment of mechanic’s tools tucked under the driver’s seat. Just a precaution, to be sure, yet always practical to have along.” Gobeir shook his hand. �śWe’re very appreciative of all you’ve done, Mahmoud. If there’s anything we can ever do to repay your kindness�"” �ś Think nothing of it, Dr. Gobeir. Believe me when I say the pleasure�"and the honor, sir�"is entirely mine. Now, if everything here is to your satisfaction, then perhaps we should go up to my office. The passes you require were prepared and put on my desk�"plus, of course, there’s still that other matter you requested over the phone this morning. Due to its somewhat sensitive nature, it would be best if we discussed it a bit more privately.” Back inside his air-conditioned office, Wassef loosened his tie before taking his chair. Since receiving Gobeir’s early call, he’d put in a very busy day. Pleased with his accomplishments, he smiled affably. �śDid you encounter difficulties getting your provisions together?” he asked. �śFood? Proper clothing?” �ś We don’t anticipate any problems,” answered Gobeir. �śMy able assistant and Miss DeCaylus have been taking care of this all morning.” �ś I must say, gentlemen, I really don’t envy you your excursion. Our desert temperatures at this time of year run very high, as much as one hundred and fifteen degrees during the worst of the day. And at night�"well, the sudden drop can be quite startling to the uninitiated. However, I’m sure you’re both well aware of this, so I’ll say no more on the subject.” He eased forward, pushing two manila envelopes across the desk. �ś The smaller one holds all your passes. You’ll be required to show them at a military checkpoint about an hour or so south of Matruh. That’s also the point where the road ceases to be paved, I’m afraid. Except for the final stretch leading into Siwah, the intervening section is strictly a desert road, though I’m told it’s reasonably well maintained. If you keep within the posted speed recommendations, you should have no problems.” �ś And this envelope?” asked David. �ś That contains two copies of the most current government map we have on the entire region. It’s extremely detailed and will be quite invaluable should you perhaps wish to make any side-excursions off the main road. My suggestion is you keep one with each vehicle.” Unfolding one for a quick check, David nodded in appreciation. It was exactly what he hoped for. Basically, Wassef had provided everything they needed. Almost, but not quite. One thing was still lacking. �śAnd about the other matter we discussed?” �ś I’m getting to that, Professor.” Wassef removed two Enfield .38 caliber revolvers from his desk drawer, each with a leather clip-on holster. He then said, �śWhen we were outside I advised you of the flare gun beneath the jeep’s front seat. Beside it you’ll also find a .30 caliber Garand semi-automatic rifle wrapped in a blanket. Ammunition for it�"plus these two here�"are in a box behind the water containers.” He handed the guns over. �śPlease realize that I’m loaning these to you from my private collection, and solely because of my high regard for Dr. Gobeir. If anyone were to ask, these didn’t come from me�"at least not insofar as my position with the ministry is concerned. I’m sure you can appreciate the distinction.” �ś We understand completely,” Gobeir assured him. �śVery decent of you, indeed. Our request was based purely on a reluctance to venture so far from�"” �ś Please, no explanations are necessary. Truth be known, gentlemen, I’d also seek a like measure of security were our circumstances reversed. After all, a wise man takes every reasonable precaution against unforeseen events, does he not?” * * * Twenty minutes later a patient Mahmoud Wassef sat alone at his desk, puffing on a pipe as his secretary placed his second call of the day to Siwah Oasis. He anticipated no problem reaching the man he sought at the town’s police department. It was exactly one o’clock, mid-way through the extended lunch break enjoyed by the Siwah staff. With the exception of one man, their office building should be empty. The phone jingled and he picked up. �ś I have Siwah District on line two, sir.” �ś Thank you.” He depressed the button, visualizing in his mind the young officer who he knew was awaiting his call. �śI take it you’re alone, Ibrahim?” �ś Yes, sir.” �ś Very good,” Wassef said, setting his pipe aside. He must select his words with care, for it would be imprudent to impart more than what was necessary over an open phone line. �śListen closely. Everything went exactly as expected. Their plans are to leave at dawn tomorrow. You already have the coded phrases and check-in times, so use them without fail. Ammar is positioned to monitor your radio frequency at all times. I need not remind you the importance of carrying out all of your instructions precisely as given.” �ś I understand, sir.” �ś Excellent. I trust you won’t fail me.” Wassef replaced the phone, confident his orders would be followed to the letter. The loyalty of Ibrahim was unquestioned, his abilities proven and finely honed. And too, the element of surprise would weigh in their favor�"by itself, a most formidable ally. It’s done, he thought, heaving a sigh of satisfaction. His only lingering concern was the matter of the weapons. Yet supplying them was unavoidable. In fact, it was quite the intelligent decision. After all, this Manning fellow gave every indication of being very resourceful. With or without help, he’d almost certainly have acquired firearms of some sort before leaving. Better that Ibrahim knows exactly what they are, thus no unpleasant surprises. A sardonic smile now played across his heavy lips as he leaned back in his chair, for he fully recognized the rather ironic nature of this situation. The loaned weapons were originally the property of his late father, a powerfully built man every bit as broad as his son, yet one who enjoyed the physical stature of being a full head taller. In the eyes of many, he’d been a virtual giant. If anyone could appreciate this wry twist of events, he knew, it surely would’ve been him! * * * From the vantage point of his weathered front porch, seventy-three year old Chester McQuinty watched with growing interest as the late-model Volkswagen worked its way up the dirt road, finally coming to a stop not twenty yards from where he sat. There were two men inside. Curious as to who they might be, he set his open can of beer down beside the discarded empties, wiping his lower lip with the back of his hand. It was only a few minutes into sunset, too dark to make out the license plate without the aid of his spectacles. But it made no difference. He’d already pegged it as a rental. Beneath the chalky coating of dust it looked just too damn new for anyone of his acquaintance. Strangers, then . . . He eased his stocking feet off the low railing and stood up from his chair, studying the lean, middle-aged man in pressed khaki shirt and matching slacks who stepped out of the car and walked towards him. The man’s driver�"and a right big bloke he was by the shape of him�"chose to remain behind the wheel. �ś I’m looking for a Mr. Chester McQuinty,” said the stranger, mounting the two shallow steps in one easy stride. �śWould this be you, sir?” �ś Right as rain,” he replied. �śBut most folks hereabouts jest calls me Quint.” His instincts rarely failed him, and now he felt encouraged to think maybe his recent run of bad luck was about to change. This clean-shaven fellow had the definite smell of money about him�"and fancy gents of his sort usually had only one reason to look him up. �śIs there something special I kin do for yuh, mate?” �ś I hope so, yes,” said the man pleasantly. �śMy friend and I want to arrange a few days of hunting in the high desert country. I understand you’re the man to see. We’re told you sometimes organize small expeditions for the right price. Is this so?” McQuinty knew from long experience how the game was played. Affecting an expression of disinterest, he idly scratched his grizzled chin. �śWell now,” he said, �śI reckon it’s been a spell, but yes, yuh could say I done a fair bit of that in my time. Yuh boys figure on poppin’ a few gazelle, do yuh?” The man nodded. �śThen I assume we can do business?” �ś Oh, now jest yuh hold up there a tad,” he said, feeling himself somewhat rushed. He reached down and retrieved his can of beer, appraising the man up and down a second time. �śNo offence mister, but I gotta wonder to myself jest what brings yuh all the way out here. I mean, seems like anyone round these parts knows there’s a little pizzant travel agency in town that kin do the same thing for yuh�"and for damnsight less money. So it kinda don’t make a whole lotta good sense yuh comin’ to me, now does it? Leastways not to my way of thinkin’, mate.” He took a slow swig of his beer. �śSee what I’m saying?” Not offended, the man smiled. �ś Your point is well taken, sir. However you underestimate your reputation. The people we spoke to say you’re the best hunting guide in the entire area. Certainly, the most experienced.” �ś And do they now?” The old-timer knew bullshit when he heard it, but this too was all part of the game. �śGuess that’s kinda flatterin’, ain’t it? Still and all, I dunno if I can help you gents out.” Pausing for effect, he casually spit over the porch railing. �śAnd these folks, did they also tell yuh I don’t come cheap?” �ś It was mentioned, yes.” The man lit a cigarette, his eyes never leaving McQuinty’s face. �śPerhaps you should simply name your price and we’ll see where we stand.” �ś Well, I suppose I�"” He stopped, detecting movement out of the corner of his eye, and it startled him to discover the second man was now out of the car and brazenly examining his two prized Land Rovers parked alongside his house. That someone this big could’ve done this without his seeing was unnerving . Now how the fuck did I miss that? he wondered. Sweet Jesus, maybe I really am gittin’ old! �ś You were saying, sir?” �ś What�"? Oh, yeah. Okay mister, jest gimme a second here. Now when exactly was it yuh wanted to strike out?” �ś No later than tomorrow morning.” �ś And, ah, jest how long a jaunt we talkin’ about here? Two days, yuh figure? Maybe three?” �ś Plan on five.” �ś Five , yuh say?” Pleased, he scratched again at his scruffy cheek. Shit, this was even better than he hoped. �śWell, let’s see here; what with both them two trucks, fuel, provisions, the right sort of gear and all�"” He made a quick mental calculation, then gave an amount he knew to be more than triple what the agency charged. �śNow yuh probably figure that’s a bit steep, I grant, but the way I sees it, yuh probably ain’t in no position to much quibble, now are yuh?” �ś The money’s no problem,” said the man without hesitation. If anything, he looked somewhat amused. �śBut I’m curious. Why are you so sure I won’t �Śquibble’, as you say? Mind telling me?” McQuinty grinned, exposing staggered yellow teeth. �śTook me for a crazy old fool, did yuh? Hell, I knowed what this was about the second yuh drove in. The only sporty boys I ever see out here are those can’t git themselves proper permits to hunt squat! City fellas, they are�"and all itchin’ to bag themselves an illegal trophy buck. Jest don’t have the natural smarts to go about it their ownself.” He chuckled. �śBut it don’t make no nevermind to me. No siree, mate. Jest so long’s we understand each other up front like.” �ś Very insightful of you, sir. So you make your customers pay accordingly?” �ś Hell, yes! Be a damn fool not to! Like I say, I bin at this friggin’ game a long time. Supply and demand, I always tell �Śem. Only good business. And right fair, too, considerin’ all my risks and such. My terms are simple. Half the money up front, the rest soon’s we git back. How’s this strike yuh?” �ś Most agreeable. I like a man with a head for business.” When the final arrangements were made, McQuinty watched again from his porch as the Volkswagen headed back towards town. Yes, he thought, settling back in his chair, things were looking up. A few more customers like this and he’d be a rich man. It was his intention to crack yet another can of beer to celebrate his good fortune, but once his feet were back up on the railing he found himself losing the mood. As to exactly why, he really wasn’t sure. Eventually, it came to him. Damned if there weren’t something about those two gents gave him a queasy twinge down low in the pit of his stomach. CHAPTER NINETEEN They left Mersa Matruh in the relative cool of early morning, David leading the way south on Rte 45, the descendent of what was known for centuries as the old Masrab el-Istabl. He and Elizabeth were in the open jeep, Gobeir and Rashidi following in the much heavier truck. Rashidi’s offer to handle the more difficult vehicle was based on prior experience; he’d driven them often during his compulsory stint in the Egyptian military, he said, and was well familiar with their limitations and peculiarities. While traveling beneath the slanted rays of the rising sun, David used the time to mentally review all he knew of Amun’s ancient temple at Siwah Oasis. In many ways, it was a truly fascinating place. Built well over a thousand years prior to Alexander’s daring ride to consult with its famed Oracle, it was a site of such deep religious importance in the Mediterranean world as to actually rival the famous Delphic shrine of Apollo on mainland Greece. Too, the mystical appeal of Siwah was only further enhanced by the very remoteness of its geographic isolation. Lying deep in the barren desert, the oasis was in ancient times only reachable by way of an arduous journey of many days, and always with the risk that those making the pilgrimage might lose their way in the shifting sands; a regular occurrence, according to distant historians. Upon such legends did the mystique of ancient Siwah thrive. But the reality of present day Siwah, David knew, mirrored almost two millennia of decline, her long and irreversible descent into obscurity beginning even before the invading Arabs of the seventh century put a final end to the worship of the old gods. Today naked Berber children frolicked innocently in the stagnant, green waters of what was once the Fountain of the Sun , little imagining by the oval’s crumbling appearance that uncounted generations of priests�"and perhaps Alexander himself�"once submerged themselves in these same waters during Amun’s sacred rites of purification. What little remained of the actual temple was also sadly neglected, for now only tumbled masonry and the barest of outlines marked the site. The first leg of their journey took them into Abar al-Kanayis, a rural farming community thirty-five miles inland. On the practical suggestion of Mahmoud Wassef, a brief stop was advisable if for no other reason than to fill their ample water containers from the village’s artesian wells. Here too, they could obtain the very freshest fruits and vegetables to supplement their limited diet. The gradual transition from fertile coast to semi-desert was already complete when David led them into town. Thriving in an otherwise arid landscape of sandy soil and low scrub, it was apparent the small town owed its very existence to the deep government wells. The life-giving water was pumped from over a thousand feet below; then funneled outward through a rather impressive network of concrete flumes feeding hundreds of green acres snatched from the desert. He filled the extra water containers while the others ventured into the local marketplace, making the necessary purchases. Another twenty miles south brought them to the expected military checkpoint where the paved road came to an abrupt end. Here an armed soldier in brown fatigues flagged them down at a wooden barrier, ordering the vehicles to park alongside a low, metal building that served as a makeshift barracks. Adjoining it was a squat, brick office recently painted with whitewash. Gobeir went inside to present their passes. The rest of them stood and watched as three more soldiers began an inspection of the jeep and truck. Their thoroughness wasn’t something David had anticipated. �śThink they’ll search our personal belongings?” he asked Rashidi, keeping his voice low. �śI really doubt they’ll go this far, Professor. They’re simply following the basic security measures placed after our recent round of difficulties with Libya. Practically speaking, the Libyan border isn’t all that far away.” �śHow will they react to the rifle and revolvers?” Rashidi was unconcerned. �śIt shouldn’t alarm them, particularly since we’ve made no effort at concealment. I suspect very few ever travel into the western desert without some form of protection.” His appraisal of the situation proved correct. Inspection completed, the three men ambled back towards the barracks without comment. Gobeir returned with their passes a few minutes later, and the first soldier raised the gate, waving them through. Ahead of them lay a hundred miles of rough, gravel road, plus a bare desert landscape seeming to stretch out into infinity. Two grueling hours later, David eased the jeep onto a shoulder of white sand. To his left was an ungraded track branching away from the main road in a straight line to the southeast. He shut off the engine and glanced again at the map as Rashidi pulled the truck up behind. �śYou sure this is the Darb Hilleir?” asked Elizabeth. �śIt looks hardly navigable, let alone a road.” �śAfraid so. That last sign back there was for the government well at Bir el-Basur. According to this, there’s nothing else it could be. Here, see for yourself.” She declined the offer. �śI’ll leave it for you guys to work out. As long as we’re stopped, I’m going to prepare a meal. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starved.” They ate in the back of the truck, using the patchwork covering as shade from the sun. It was already past noon, the searing heat rising off the baked desert in visible waves. Afterwards, Elizabeth washed out the dishes while Rashidi refilled their canteens and checked the level in the radiators. David and Gobeir used the time to stretch their legs and confer over the map. Before leaving Matruh they assumed their best chance of locating Yousef’s valley was to cut east on the Darb Hillier for approximately thirty miles, then strike straight south across open country. Now David wasn’t so sure of their calculations. Extracting a pencil from his shirt pocket, he said, �śMaybe we should re-think this a little bit, Lewis.” �śIn what way?” David sketched a faint line on the map. �śLook here. Yousef told us his people left Ain el-Khashab near Qara and headed due west towards the ancient cisterns above Deir Kohla, which is only about another thirty miles down from our present position. If we assume they moved their herds in a relatively straight line, then they must’ve crossed south of the Darb Hillier somewhere about here.” He drew a circle, marking his guess. �śI figure that’s less than fifty miles away, right?” Gobeir nodded. �śI think I see what you’re getting at. The hill the Bedouin called Gabal el-Qasr was roughly half-way through their journey . . .” �śExactly. Which means if we stay too long on this track we run the risk of over-shooting our mark. That valley might be a lot closer than we originally thought. The more I look at this limestone plateau marked here, the more convinced I am this is where we should be heading.” Gobeir perused the map thoughtfully, blocking out the reflected glare with his cloth hat. �śYou might well be right,” he said finally. �śIf the topography doesn’t improve, then it won’t make much difference. Let’s face it, it’s going to be tough going no matter where we break off. If thirty miles seems too much, then how far do you figure?” �śWish I knew. My gut feeling tells me anything over twenty could be a serious mistake. I’d like to try and pick up this high plain marked here near the western-most edge. What do you think?” �śLooks good to me, old boy. I never argue with a man’s instincts.” The long afternoon was just beginning to wan when they finally reached the limestone plateau. Their approach from the northwest had taken them across extremely difficult terrain�"so rough that on several occasions it was even questionable as to whether or not the heavy truck would actually make it. Alternating between stretches of drifting sand and gravel slopes of loose rocks, the bleak landscape proved only borderline passable. But the pay-off for their efforts was now clearly visible through the binoculars. The hill was neither as high nor as impressive as David expected, yet there could be little doubt of it being Gabal el-Qasr. Bathed in the yellow light of a slowly declining sun, the natural formation stood starkly alone in the emptiness of the broad plain�"and true to the vivid imagery of old Yousef’s recollection, the ragged crown of rock at its crest did indeed lend comparison to some ancient and long-abandoned fortress. And there was more. When he shifted the binoculars to the right and re-focused, he clearly saw a twisting wall of stone rising up across the horizon. Lying no more than four miles to the south of the hill was the leading edge of a higher plateau. �śI’ll be damned,” he whispered under his breath. Everything was exactly where the old man said it would be! * * * Some twenty miles to the northeast, Oristano stood beside the lead Land Rover and trained his binoculars across the flat undulations of the bleached landscape. He was acutely conscious of the sinking sun. At most, he estimated less than four hours remained before sunset. Was this enough time to put him where he wanted to be? He was beginning to have serious doubts. Lowering his binoculars, he again studied McQuinty’s topographical map. Things weren’t progressing as he’d hoped. It would take maybe three hours just to intersect with the Darb Hillier�"and possibly another just to reach where he suspected Manning was at this moment. He shook his head in growing exasperation. The day had proved tiresome beyond belief. In order to avoid the military checkpoint south of Abar el Kanayis, he and Heikal had driven south from Matruh on the seldom used Masrab Khalda, a brutish gravel road which would’ve eventually taken them all the way down to Qara had they not swung off and headed west across open country. But as difficult and time-consuming as the Khala had been, it was as nothing compared to the rocky desert track they were presently following. Called the Masrab Dal on the map, it was�"in Oristano’s opinion�"little more than a glorified camel trail. He refolded the map and stuffed it back into the open glove compartment. If things weren’t bad enough, they were now being held up by yet another delay. A steering problem had developed in the second Land Rover, though just how serious it was remained to be seen. He strode back to find out. McQuinty had parked on a flat stretch of ground, attempting to effect repairs. Lying beneath the engine with his skinny legs braced against the bumper, he was banging away at something with a hammer. Heikal stood leaning on the dusty hood, an expression of impatience etched on his blunt features. Oristano questioned him with a look, but the big Egyptian only lifted his wide shoulders in ignorance of the other man’s progress. �śSo what’s the story, McQuinty?” The clatter ceased and the old man squirmed back out, pulling himself to his feet. He looked decidedly pleased with himself as he slapped dust from his grimy jeans. �śNothing to fret over,” he said. �śIt’s all taken care of, mates. It was jest what I figured. A hunk of rock got itself wedged up between the tie-rods and axle. The tire must’ve kicked it up somewhere’s back apiece. She’s all ready to go again.” �śAny serious damage?” �śNope. Leastways nothin’ I kin see, anyway. But that’s only �Ścause we caught it in time. Bit of luck, that. Another mile or two and it might’ve given us a real peck of trouble, us being a helluva long way from anywhere, and all. Why, many’s the time I seen rocks like that snap a perfectly good tie-rod clean in�"” He stopped short, suddenly suspicious of the secretive looks being exchanged between the other two men. �śSay now,” he said, �śis there something here yuh boys ain’t telling me?” Oristano smiled as he lit a cigarette. �śLike you say, we’re a long way from anywhere.” He shifted his eyes to Heikal and gave a slight nod of his head. �śSo I guess it makes this about as good a place as any for us to part company, don’t you think?” �śWhat’s that?” McQuinty frowned in confusion. �śYuh kinda lost�"” Heikal snatched the hammer from the little man’s hand, then seized the front of his shirt and dragged him bodily over to the bank of a shallow wash no more than six feet wide. �ś Are yuh fuckin’ crazy!” shrieked the old-timer, thrashing to no avail. �ś What in the blue blazes do yuh think--” A hard shove from Heikal propelled him backwards off the sharp edge, slamming him against the opposite bank with a violent jolt. Here the little man slid to the bottom and sat like a discarded toy, legs splayed out and arms hanging at his sides. Too dazed to move, he gasped for air as pockets of loosened sand and debris sifted down onto his hair and shoulders. Oristano looked across at him, a Beretta now in his left hand. He removed a full clip of .22 longs from his shirt pocket, then snapped it into the handle. To Heikal, he said, �śI saw a shovel in the back of the other truck. Get it. It’s not likely he’ll be found, but why run the risk.” McQuinty lifted his eyes to the sound of the voice, blinking without real comprehension as Oristano leisurely raised his arm. Shovel�"? He heard the first shot. The bullet caught him low in the throat, spraying a thin jet of blood into the dry sand as it exited the back of his neck. The second shot�"the one he didn’t hear�"followed a split second later, opening a clean, round hole just above the bridge of his nose. * * * The entrance was exactly as old Yousef described, a natural rift in the steep rock face of the higher plateau�"and due to its twisted configuration, almost totally concealed from casual view. Unless one was aware of its existence, David thought, few would recognize the narrow opening for what it actually was. Driving both vehicles through didn’t appear to present any serious challenge, for though the pass itself was scarcely twelve feet wide between twenty-foot cliffs, the ground was flat and free of obstructing boulders. If anything, it was a marked improvement over the rocky plain they’d just traversed. As a precautionary measure, however, Rashidi took the rifle and scouted ahead on foot. Though it was unlikely anyone could’ve beaten them here, the combination of high cliffs and narrow confines made it ideally suited for ambush. Common sense dictated it be checked out before proceeding. While waiting for his return, David climbed onto the jeep’s hood and surveyed the terrain behind them one last time. In some respects the approach of evening had actually improved visibility; the near horizon no longer appeared distorted through the binoculars, for the shimmering heat-haze hanging so tenaciously across the tawny landscape was finally dissipating. But he saw nothing out of the ordinary. If anyone was following them, they were nowhere close. Satisfied, he leaped down as Rashidi returned. �śWhat have we got, Ahmed?” �ś Well, the wadi is there, all right. The breach leading in stays much as you see it for roughly another thirty yards before opening up. It’s wide enough for both vehicles. From what I can make out, the valley runs straight south for at least four or five miles. Maybe more, it’s difficult to tell.” �śAny tracks of any kind?” Rashidi shook his head. �śThere’s no indication anyone’s traveled through here in recent times, though it’s quite possible there might be another entrance we just don’t know about.” He paused. �śIf we were in a race to reach this spot, Professor, my guess is we’ve apparently won.” It was as David hoped. �śThen let’s head on through while we still have enough light to find a protected campsite. I’d rather not spend the night exposed out here in the open if we can avoid it.” Despite Rashidi’s favorable impression, they weren’t about to drive through empty-handed. David broke open the box of shells and loaded both revolvers, then looped his belt through one of the leather holsters. Offered a choice between the second revolver and the semi-automatic, Gobeir took the former, saying, �śBetter if Ahmed keepthe rifle. Not much sense me carrying it at my age. I’m afraid I don’t have the eyes for it anymore. I just hope none of this will be necessary.” It was a sentiment they all shared. David and Elizabeth led the way in the jeep. It was noticeably warmer between the cliffs. Having absorbed the sun’s energy throughout the day, the exposed stone now radiated off its accumulated heat much like a metal plate newly removed from fire. He maneuvered with care, using the jeep’s lowest gear to pick his way through the narrow twists and turns. Where not yet completely shrouded in dark shadow, the stark walls were russet-colored in the dwindling light, and he was watchful for any sounds or movement from above. But the silence was complete�"almost like a tomb�"and the only movement to catch his eye was a fleeting glimpse of birds soaring high overhead. They were ravens, a common enough sight in Egypt’s desert country, he knew, yet the first he’d spotted since leaving Matruh. If he was superstitious, he might well take this as an auspicious sign, for according to legend, when Alexander became lost crossing this same arid landscape some twenty-three centuries before, the gods sent a flight of ravens to guide his way. A final turn brought them out into the valley opening, and he automatically slowed to a stop in appreciation of its vaguely forbidding appearance. Lying beneath the red-tinged sky of approaching nightfall, it stretched out before them like a ragged and asymmetrical tear in the sterile waste; desolate, yet strangely beautiful, as well. At most, he estimated it was no more than a half mile at it’s widest. To the west it was bordered by tapering hills of sand and broken rock, and to the east by high, staggered outcroppings of vertical limestone�"the latter untouched by invading shadows and still aglow in the bright rays of sunset. Rashidi pulled up beside him. The last barrier between them and the valley floor was a long, sandy downgrade, which might spell trouble. To get a better look, Gobeir pushed open his door and stood on the running board. It was apparently a lot steeper than he felt comfortable with, but there was no other way down. Of more concern to David was the failing light. Full nightfall was now less than thirty minutes away, and a quick scan through his binoculars indicated the valley was probably even longer than Rashidi first estimated. He walked the glasses over to Gobeir, directing his attention to a distant bluff that he guessed to be about six miles out. �śI may be wrong, Lewis, but it looks to me like it extends even beyond that far ridge. See it shift away to the right?” Gobeir adjusted the focus. �śRather hard to tell,” he said, �śbut yes, it does appear so.” He glanced at his wrist. �śIf we intend finding out, we better get a move on, old boy.” David agreed. He slipped the jeep into low, easing it over the crest and down the lengthy slope. Only when he reached the bottom without difficulty did Rashidi follow, using the jeep’s tracks as a guide. From there, they made decent time on the valley floor. Flat and solid, it was a plain in itself, remarkably smooth with very few rocks of any appreciable size to impede their way. Surprisingly, the heat still held even though a full three quarters of the wadi was already covered in shadow. A dry, westerly wind gusted off the darkening hills, whipping up small dust devils of loose sand. David snapped on his headlights, knowing it was going to be close; they couldn’t risk driving much longer over unfamiliar terrain. Minutes slipped by, the sun continuing to fall. Roughly six miles out, the valley floor narrowed, revealing it did indeed dogleg to the right, pursuing a westerly track. Seeing nothing so far to distract them, they followed it, driving with increasing caution beneath the base of a high, craggy bluff. Within less than a mile they could go no further, for the valley came to an abrupt end in the form of an oddly shaped basin scooped out of the surrounding plateau. Unless some passage or extension had somehow eluded them along the way, they were at the valley’s limit. He got out to investigate as Rashidi pulled the truck in behind. Not unlike a small, natural amphitheater, the basin was scarcely twenty yards across, enclosed on the south by the trailing edge of the limestone bluff, and on the west and north by equally high hills of crumbling shale. Eons of wind and erosion had littered the floor with tumbled rocks, but in David’s estimation this was more than adequate to establish a protected camp. The site also had distinct possibilities from a strategic standpoint, for atop a slumping peak not far back towards the entrance was a tilted stone ledge ideal for posting a guard. Even in the deepening twilight, Gobeir appeared whipped as he climbed out of the truck. �śSo, what’s it to be?” he asked. �śThis it for the night?” �śSeems as a good a place as any. Too dark to backtrack now even if we wanted to.” Gobeir gave a grateful nod, then turned to Elizabeth. �śWhat say you and I break out the propane stove, my dear? If you’ll tackle the coffee, I’m willing to try my hand at cooking up some dinner. It’s my turn, I believe.” �śYou’re on.” David used the time for a private word with Rashidi. �śThat upper ledge over there will make a perfect lookout. It should give ample warning if anyone approaches. I’m thinking it’s best if we split the watch between just the two of us. Lewis looks beat.” �śI was going to suggest the same thing, Professor. I doubt he’ll give us more than token resistance. He hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure today’s heat took its toll. He’s going to need all the rest he can get. As difficult as today was on him, the next few days may even be worse.” This settled, they took advantage of what faint light remained to them. Due to the lateness of the hour, any detailed exploration of the basin itself could wait until dawn. However, there was still time to get a better feel for their general location, for as evidenced by the dull, red glow lingering above the crest of the hill, the sun had yet to dip completely below the horizon. Flashlight in hand, they worked their way up the steep incline where the crumbling shale of the encircling hills merged with the limestone bluff. By the time they reached the top the flashlight was no longer necessary. Dark as it already was in the basin below, up here the last vestiges of a brilliant sunset still burned crimson and gold in the western sky. David knew from the map that the end of Yousef’s hidden valley must surely place them near the northern rim of the vast Qattara Depression, but it momentarily startled him to see just how close they actually were. Walking across the flat, weathered summit of the bluff, he stared out into a huge, sweeping void without visible boundaries. Below him, the land dropped away in a series of dizzying cliffs to the desert floor below�"not unlike looking out at the Grand Canyon, but with the opposite side missing! Rashidi pointed southward to a distant patch of green, now so faint as to be hardly discernible beneath the enveloping cloak of nightfall. �śSee there,” he said. �śYou can just barely make it out.” �śSiwah Oasis?” �śIt can be nothing else, Professor.” CHAPTER TWENTY They heard Elizabeth shouting as they came down the steep slope. By her apparent excitement, she’d found something of great interest and was now eager to show them. �śOver here,” she called, gesturing with her flashlight. �śIt’s the damnedest thing! You’re not going to believe this. ” Her find was a natural alcove recessed some fifteen feet into the lower face of the cliff. Partially concealed behind a high vertical fold of stone, its opening went unnoticed in the dark when they drove into the basin. But it was the interior of it that thrilled her. More to the point�"what it contained. It was a spring-fed pool, maybe seven feet across and almost twice as long. A narrow ledge ran part way around to the left�"and here knelt Gobeir, happily splashing handfuls of water over his face. He sat back on his heels as David played the flashlight’s beam across the rippled surface, saying, �śI just couldn’t resist, old boy! I wouldn’t recommend drinking from it, but it sure feels good shedding all the dust and grit.” David grinned, shaking his head. �śWho would’ve thought it,” he said, stepping closer and directing the beam downward. Not surprising, the light didn’t penetrate very far into the murky depths. �śHave you ever seen anything like this before?” �śNo, can’t say I have. But I’m told they’re not all that uncommon in the Sahara. And this one’s damn old in geological terms. Look there at the smooth undercutting just below the surface. My guess is the water level’s been constant, eating away at the limestone for many thousands of years.” �śLooks like we picked the right spot for our campsite. This’ll certainly take some restrictions off our water use. We can draw from here for cleaning and�"” �śOh, it means a lot more than that,” cut in Elizabeth. �śNot only do I get to wash my hair after we eat, but you guys just lost any excuse you had not to shave in the morning.” Gobeir chuckled as he got back to his feet. �śI guess I should’ve known there was a downside to this. Well, you heard the lady. So much for roughing it.” Once their evening meal was finished, Rashidi took the first watch on the upper ledge twenty yards back. A night wind had risen with the moon. Now it whistled eerily through the crevices above, settling a growing chill across the basin floor. Elizabeth poured the last of the coffee into Gobeir’s cup; then turned off the gas burner. When she sat back down beside David, he wrapped her in one of the heavier blankets. �śIt’s amazing how fast the temperature drops,” she said, drawing the edges up under her chin. �śI’m embarrassed to say it, Lewis, but I actually thought Ahmed was over-stating the desert cold when we shopped for provisions. Now I know he wasn’t kidding me.” �ś Don’t give it second thought, my dear. No matter what anyone tells you, I daresay the sudden change surprises everyone their first time.” He suddenly grinned, adding, �śEven we native Egyptians!” �śAre you speaking from personal experience?” Her curiosity was now piqued. �śCome on, tell us . . .” �śWell, if you must know, it brought me to mind of my first field expedition, something I haven’t thought about in a good many years. I was young, eager to put all my theoretical training to practice at a site northwest of the Faiyum.” He paused to remove his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Despite his good-humor, the weariness of the long day was showing on his face. �śI was assisting an American team out of the University of Michigan, excavating pre-Christian ruins from the early Roman period. To make a long story short, when my first nightfall came, there simply weren’t enough blankets in the entire camp to keep me warm.” She laughed, as he intended. �śThis American team . . .” David asked, �śwas it led by Professor Zukor, by any chance?” �śZukor? Why, yes, it was,” he acknowledged. �śAre you familiar with his work?” David lit a cigarette before responding. �śNot really. I’ve heard the name, of course, and read a few of his papers. I think he eventually became involved with the American School of Oriental Research. Or maybe I’m confusing him with someone else.” Gobeir shrugged, looking down at his coffee. �śNow of that I really couldn’t say.” Elizabeth changed the subject. �śThis is probably going to sound pretty stupid, guys, but just what exactly are we supposed to be looking for tomorrow? This is all new to me. I hate to think I might be tripping over something important and not even realize it.” �ś I wish I had a pat answer,” David said, �śbut there really isn’t one. For starters, we’re looking for any physical evidence that anyone’s ever been inside this valley. And I don’t just mean pottery fragments from ancient times. If you find even a gum wrapper, a cigarette butt�"anything�"then we need to know about it.” �śYou’re serious?” �śLewis and I talked about this two nights back. For our purposes, we have to assume whoever murdered Lionel and Nawal back in ’56 learned the whereabouts of their discovery and began exploiting it for himself. It’s possible it was known even before they came on the scene. Either way, the killer may have been a bit careless about hiding his activities. If so, then there could be little clues which might help narrow down our search area.” �śHe’s quite right,” said Gobeir. �śWhatever clues we find are probably going to be of modern origin.” He set his cup down. �śWhat I suspect we may have here is a set of circumstances not too dissimilar to the Deir al-Bahri cache in the Nile valley.” �śI think I know what you’re referring to,” she said. �śAll those royal mummies found together back in the 1880’s, right?” �śThat’s the one. Stories had circulated around Luxor for years of funerary pieces and royal papyri being sold on the black-market�"items bearing the names of Egypt’s ancient kings and queens. It was eventually learned a local family had found a tunnel complex hidden in the Theban hills and were treating its contents as their own private treasure-trove. Needless to say, they were quite prepared to kill anyone who threatened to expose their secret. The tunnel contained some forty royal mummies, many of them Egypt’s greatest rulers and their wives�"all legendary figures whose mortal remains archaeologists thought long destroyed.” �śAnd how did they come to be hidden there?” �ś Well, they surely would’ve been lost but for the efforts of the ancient priesthood. At the beginning of Egypt’s decline, they foresaw the rapacious anarchy and looting that was to come�"and knowing themselves powerless to prevent this sacrilege, they secretly gathered together all these great pharaohs and hid them away, hoping to forever spare them from grave robbers and mindless thieves. It was a noble endeavor, and now Egypt is much indebted to them.” He paused. �śIn the end, however�"” His voice trailed off into silence. Puzzled by this, Elizabeth asked, �śBut it worked, didn’t it? I mean, they’re all safe now, aren’t they?” Gobeir’s look remained somber. �ś Perhaps so. As in all things, time will be the ultimate judge. For myself, I must confess to having mixed feelings. As a student of history, I welcome the opportunity of studying and learning from their remains. What scientist wouldn’t? Yet I can’t help but wonder if Egypt hasn’t failed to give them the proper honor and respect that is their rightful due. I find myself questioning the morality of our x-raying, unwrapping, displaying�"and yes, even sometimes dissecting�"those who were once our revered kings. Was it for this ignominious purpose they were spared all these many centuries?” He moved his head sadly. �śI think not, my dear. In truth, I believe an argument can be made we are no real protectors at all. Despite all our good intentions, perhaps we’ve committed the greatest desecration of all.” She had no reply. An awkward moment passed, then Gobeir forced a sheepish smile. �śForgive an old man’s rambling,” he apologized. �śWhen I get overly tired I often�"well, let’s just say it’s been a very long day.” �śFor all of us,” said David, thinking this was a side of Lewis he hadn’t seen before. �śDawn comes early. It’s probably time we all got some sleep.” * * * Oristano’s patience had about run out. He stood with his back pressed against the vertical base of the cliff, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The night sky above the rocky plain remained broken, a narrow band of moonlight still visible off to the east, a thick ceiling of impenetrable clouds overhead. By the dial on his watch it was fast approaching two o’clock, which meant almost forty minutes had elapsed since Heikal crept ahead to investigate what was clearly the valley’s shrouded entrance. So what the fuck was delaying his return? He resisted the urge to light a cigarette, knowing it too risky. And with good reason. Despite the masking efforts of a moderate wind, two sets of tire tracks were still visible in the sand�"and by Heikal’s estimation, both were laid down within the past six hours. Now it was a matter of determining just how far in Manning’s small party had penetrated before nightfall overtook them. Another ten minutes slipped by before Heikal finally returned. Like a silent and ghostly phantom, he seemed to materialize out of thin air at Oristano’s side. �śIt’s a trap,” he whispered. �śThree men for certain, about ten yards inside the pass. And it’s not Manning’s group.” �ś What�"? How many did you actually see?” �śOnly the forward lookout. The others are hidden amongst the higher rocks on this side of the pass. I felt their presence.” Oristano stared at the big man, momentarily taken aback, but not questioning for an instant the reliability of Heikal’s judgement. But if not Manning, then who? Considering the lateness of the hour, there was precious little time to find out. It took him only seconds to reach a decision. They must take the offensive. �śWhat chance these people know we’re here?” �śProbably none,” said Heikal. �śWe crossed the open plain too far to the east to be seen. The sentry’s field of vision covers the entrance, but little else. Besides, the wind’s been blowing out of the west since nightfall. The engine noises couldn’t have carried anywhere near this far.” �śGood. Then we’re in a position to spring a little trap of our own.” They backtracked almost forty yards before finding an angled slit in the cliff face suitable for their purpose. Heikal led the thirty-foot assent, finding the strongest handholds as he worked his way up. Oristano allowed him only a brief head start, then shouldered his rifle and followed. They climbed steadily in the dark, careful to dislodge as few stones as possible. Upon making the summit, they then worked their way back along a shallow depression to the upper lip of the pass. They covered the last several yards on their hands and knees; then peered over the edge. What Oristano saw only reinforced his high regard for the big Egyptian’s visceral instincts. Scarcely ten feet below two men lay in wait, both well concealed in the pocket of a ledged cove overlooking the floor of the pass. Any unwary entrant crossing beneath would be completely at their mercy. And the sentry? As if responding to this unspoken question, Heikal pointed further right to a ragged cleft in the opposite face of the cliff. At first glance, Oristano detected nothing, but after several seconds a slight movement near the top caught his eye. What he previously took as just another section of rock now revealed itself to be the exposed shoulder and forearm of someone ensconced between two vertical plates of stone. Fortunately, the man was facing the other direction, concentrating his attention on the lower opening of the pass. Oristano estimated the distance between him and this man at about sixty feet�"a makeable shot with his Beretta in broad daylight, but far too chancy under the present conditions. The brisk wind only compounded the difficulty, for it was tainted with particles of dust. Unless the margin for error was significantly reduced, there was no guarantee of a clean kill. Nor was the rifle an option. There was still Manning’s group to consider. Its report would be heard for miles. The only alternative was to get closer. He communicated his plan with simple gestures; then edged backwards into the draw. That his partner was more than capable of taking out the two unsuspecting men below, he had no doubts. Coordination, however, was crucial. The sentry must be dispatched within seconds of his making his move. If not, Heikal would be directly exposed to the man’s line of fire. He crawled approximately thirty feet before silently re-emerging over the pass. A flat slab of rock in front of him provided a convenient blind. If his calculations were correct, the sentry was now less than forty feet away�"and hopefully still facing the other direction. A quick glance back confirmed that Heikal was also in position. Knife drawn, he only awaited the signal to pounce. Oristano gave it with a hand gesture, watching just long enough to see him drop over the edge before rising to his knees and extending his gun arm across the stone slab. The expected furor from below came in two simultaneous shouts; one an unmistakable outcry of pain, the other a belated yell of alarm. For Oristano, the timing was perfect. Alerted to something amiss by the frantic commotion behind him, the sentry leaned forward to better ascertain what was happening�"and this unguarded moment cost him his life. Anticipating just such a reaction, Oristano squeezed off three shots in rapid succession. The initial bullet struck the man squarely in the chest, throwing him backwards as if jerked by an invisible cord. The second and third were mere insurance, both hitting within a tight radius of the first. Delivered at such short range, all were lethal in themselves. Dead on his feet, the man slowly pitched forward at the waist in an exaggerated bow to his executioner. Pleased, Oristano was about to stand when he heard a faint snap behind him, a muted report that instantaneously stung his face with flying chips of stone. A bullet had smacked into the rock not inches from his head! He dove left, rolling clear as another tore through the lower sleeve of his khaki jacket and ricocheted past his ear. A second sooner and it would’ve lodged between his shoulder blades! The flat angle of the shots indicated their origin was from somewhere back in the shallow draw. Damn if there wasn’t a fourth man up here whose presence neither he nor Heikal had suspected�"and the oversight almost got him killed! Lacking protective cover, he pulled himself into a sitting position and leveled his pistol. Luckily, he located his target straightaway, a lithe figure dashing headlong back up the draw towards an outcropping of rock. He led the retreating shape just slightly in his sights and fired off five quick rounds. This time the results were inconclusive. Though the man grunted in pain and gave an awkward lurch in mid-stride, he was still on his feet when he disappeared from view. One bullet for certain found its mark, yet it still wasn’t enough to bring him down. Swearing under his breath, Oristano ejected the empty clip and drove in a full one. Whether the man was fatally wounded or merely scratched, it made no difference. He must not be allowed to escape! Pistol ready, he advanced on the rock outcropping only to find his adversary no longer there. The stone formation would’ve made ideal cover, but instead the man had merely used it as a place of momentary respite. The proof of this was an encouraging quantity of blood smeared waist-high on the rock’s sloping edge. The advantage now clearly belonged to Oristano�"a hunter stalking a wounded prey. But it was an armed prey. And a desperate one, to boot! Was there time to enlist Heikal’s help? Probably not. Valuable seconds were slipping by; seconds working to his quarry’s benefit. It was imperative the man be hunted down without further delay. He strained his eyes, probing the darkness for anything not part of the desert night�"and his reward was a distant blur of movement . There! It was just a darting outline against the black backdrop of a starless sky, yet recognizable as someone limping rapidly over the crest of a low rise. Oristano broke into a fast run, racing with fresh urgency. His every instinct told him the fleeing figure must have a specific goal. If his only objective was to affect an escape, then why needlessly expose himself atop the low hill? The man was desperate to reach something! But what? He ran to the sandy knoll and scrambled to the top. The answer was an open-topped jeep parked fifty feet beyond in a sheltered ravine. His wounded prey was already inside the passenger door, grabbing at something beneath the dash. It was a radio transmitter�"and the realization dashed any hope Oristano had of capturing the man alive. He must be stopped immediately before any message got out! Bracing his arm, he took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The single shot proved sufficient. Impacting high on the back of the man’s head, the bullet slammed his face forward against the dash. It was unmistakably a killing wound, the damage instantly fatal. Dead, he slumped sideways, rolling out the open door. Oristano walked down to where the body lay sprawled on the sand. His suspicion was right. Even though the keys were in the jeep’s ignition, the man was definitely after the radio. Not only was the transmitting switch flipped, but the hand-held mic was lifted free of its holder. Reaching in, he flipped the switch back to the �Śoff’ position. A 32 caliber Smith & Wesson lay by the clutch. The modification to the barrel explained the muted sound of the shots; a perforated metal cylinder commonly referred to as a silencer. Who the hell were these people? He rendered the radio useless with the butt of his rifle; then rolled the limp corpse over. The swarthy face appeared relatively young, the dark eyes slitted and staring. A large, circular stain was visible across his middle, attesting to the severity of the earlier wound. Every step this man took must’ve been pure agony. It was amazing the fellow even managed to stay on his feet. This kind of singular determination wasn’t just admirable�"it was nothing less than extraordinary! The longer Oristano pondered on this remarkable feat, the more disturbing he found it. Hell, just the fact that he went straight for the radio instead of the keys raised serious questions! For openers, whom was he trying so desperately to reach? And why the hell would any sane man place a higher priority on sending out a message than on saving his own skin? It defied all logic. What kind of loyalty superseded one’s natural instinct to survive? An inspection of the man’s pockets revealed no identification or personal items. A camp-stove stood off on a flat section of stone, an empty coffee pot atop one of its two burners. More telling was a scattering of eating utensils and empty cans. They had obviously been at this site for at least a full day or more. Too, there were several blankets left heaped in the back seat . Sleeping in rotation? This might account for the fourth man’s untimely arrival. He now focused his eyes on the dim horizon. The shallow ravine ran in a straight line to the southeast, a trough-like natural roadbed between a series of truncated hills. These men were no novices to this terrain. In fact, they knew it exceedingly well. And the general direction of the ravine told him something else. McQuinty’s map showed a government highway linking both Qara and Siwah�"and through the road was at least twenty miles away, this ravine undoubtedly intersected with it at some distant point. If true, then this was nothing less than a backdoor to old Mehra’s hidden valley. Oristano spun around to the soft tread of approaching footsteps, but immediately lowered his pistol. The familiar figure of Heikal emerged from the darkness. There was an uncharacteristic look of relief on the big man’s face to see all was well. He gave the body a cursory glance, asking, �śJust this one?” �śUnfortunately for him, yes. The other two . . . both dead?” Heikal nodded. �śYou were gone when I climbed back up. All I could do was follow the sound of your last shot.” His eye fell on the silencer affixed to the revolver’s barrel. �śI suspected as much; the two on the ledge were similarly armed. And they were also carrying these.” From his belt he produced a short, commando-style knife used for close quarter combat. �śIt appears their intention was to kill us as quietly as possible. But as we’re out in the middle of fucking nowhere, why do you figure that would be?” Good question, thought Oristano, shaking his head. Extreme and inexplicable precautions were taken by these men�"but to what end? Who were they afraid would hear? The only other people within miles of here were�" Wait a minute! Is that it? Suddenly all the little pieces began to mesh. What other possible explanation could there be? It seemed unbelievable�"yet damn if it didn’t account for everything! But how to prove it. �śCome on, Sabir. There’s something we need to look at right away.” Back at the pass, the proof Oristano sought was still visible in the sand. The dark mass of clouds overhead were beginning to disperse, and he saw where the tracks from Manning’s two vehicles ran between the enclosing walls without the least sign of interruption. If they had been ambushed, the tracks would show it. The men were obviously here and in place for at least a full day�"yet no such thing happened. So why was Manning’s group allowed to slip through untouched? There was only one convincing rationale that worked on every level�"and it was the silencers on the revolvers that finally put it all together for him! Oristano smiled, feeling the satisfying rush of exhilaration that came with solving a complex riddle. This completely altered his plans. He swung around to Heikal, and said, �śWe’ve been played for fools, my friend. And not just us, either!” CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE It was essentially a combination of deep disappointment and frustration that brought David back up onto the high lip of the limestone plateau in early afternoon of the following day. Failure wasn’t something he accepted easily, and the negative results of almost eight hours of careful exploration had left him both physically and mentally drained. Yet every instinct told him the tomb was here. But where? Alone, he stood pondering the riddle from the flat, southern edge of the escarpment, conscious of the fact that in another half hour he must again spell-off Rashidi on sentry duty. Up here the heat didn’t seem quite so oppressive. A faint breeze stirred the dusty air, though in truth the relief was more illusion than actual. The silence was total. Almost mockingly so. As dizzying as he found this view to be yesterday evening, it now appeared even more awesome in the bright light of day. The initial precipice was a straight-line fall of at least one hundred and twenty feet, and this only the first of several sheer drops further out. Never fond of extreme heights in any form, merely standing this close to the edge gave him a disquieting sense of vertigo. He finished the last of his cigarette as he ambled back towards the shale slope leading down into the basin. The only logical place to have constructed a tomb, he knew, was somewhere damn close to their present location overlooking distant Siwah. But if so, then the ancients had performed a thorough job of removing even the tiniest shred of evidence. Since the first light of dawn he’d painstakingly combed the entire one-mile stretch of exposed limestone wall defining the back edge of the valley. And all to no avail. So what is it I’m not seeing? he wondered. Christ, I’m a trained archaeologist! His flash of anger was only momentary. Castigating himself served no purpose. If anything, he should be analyzing the situation with a calm and rational mind. He must draw from his knowledge, his past experience. The historical record in the Valley of the Kings demonstrated how the Amun priests were often masters at concealment. When the primary objective was secrecy, two basic principles were always followed. First and foremost, the tomb’s entrance was either buried well below ground level, or otherwise completely disguised. Secondly�"though certainly of no less importance�"all debris from its excavation was usually hauled a considerable distance away. In this particular instance, David believed the tomb entrance must be accessible and above ground; if not then Lionel and Nawal wouldn’t have had a prayer in hell of finding it in just a few days. And Lionel did just that! The gold disk proved it. He again shook his head in frustration. He was definitely missing something here! As he approached the crest of the slope, he found his eyes drawn to one of several broken slabs of stone lying nearby, and he came to a stop, his curiosity aroused. Now why, he wondered, does this look so odd? He cocked his head. Was it just his imagination, or was something not quite right with this picture? But what exactly? The longer he looked, the more convinced he became of a subtle discrepancy within the surrounding landscape�"but damn if he could put his finger on what it was. Intrigued, he began a slow circle of the entire area in question, carefully examining all the sections of stone from various angles. In every instance the origin of all the individual slabs was apparent. For uncounted centuries this upper strata of limestone had been subjected to daily temperature extremes; thus it was understandable and natural that many sections had long ago fractured, each marginally distancing itself from the parent rock. In a way, it was reminiscent of an enormous, shattered plate, the pieces somewhat scattered, to be sure, but not so much the original pattern wasn’t still discernible. And here was the disturbing discrepancy. The most prominent piece didn’t seem to fit anywhere. David stepped over to where he could see Rashidi on sentry and whistled to catch his attention, waving him over. Elizabeth also heard, looking up from the basin down below. �śWhat is it?” she called. �śDid you find something?” �śMaybe,” he shouted back. �śI’m not sure yet. I’m going to need some help up here. Tell Lewis, too.” When the three converged on him, David pointed out the single anomaly among the flat, stone slabs. Roughly seven inches thick, it was about six feet at its widest, maybe twice this in length. Unlike the others, it lay off by itself, appearing to have no natural relationship to its location. �śI may be wrong,” he told them, �śbut it almost looks as if this was physically placed here. If so, then it’s going to be damn interesting to find out why. Ahmed, let’s put some muscle to this and see if it can be moved.” It took everything both men could muster before one end began moving with a grating sound�"but as it did so it was soon apparent David’s guess was correct. There was a definite opening of some sort underneath, and its black mouth steadily widened in small increments as they continued to heave. Caught up in the excitement, Gobier and Elizabeth added their muscle to the effort until the slab finally refused to slide any further. But it was enough, the opening was now of sufficient size to explore. Elizabeth tried peering inside. �śIs it manmade?” �śMore like the top of a natural fissure, I think,” mused David. �śWe’re going to need a flashlight to find out.” �śI’ll go get one,” Rashidi said. �śAnd maybe some rope, too?” David shook his head. �śNo, just the light for now. Let’s see what we got here first.” When Rashidi, returned, David knelt and probed inside with the beam. What he saw wasn’t much. The configuration of the opening was that of a down-slanting funnel, the surface smooth and dropping away fairly abruptly. To see deeper, he slithered forward on his stomach, inching down into the mouth. �śAhmed, grab hold of my belt,” he said over his shoulder. �śThe angle gets even steeper.” Rashidi did so, also grabbing hold of his leg. �śProfessor, I really don’t think you should be�"” �ś Only a few inches more. There’s a sharp drop-off ledge here. I just need to turn the light a little more to�" Oh, Christ!” �śWhat’s wrong?” David had to catch his breath before answering. The grim revelation of the flashlight’s beam was absolutely shocking. Whatever he expected to find, he knew it sure as hell wasn’t this! �śWhat is it, David?” persisted Elizabeth. �śTell us what you see.” �śA pile of bones,” he said finally. �śAnd they’re all human!” North of Siwah Oasis, Egypt, 72 C.E. After three long hours kneeling in silent prayer and meditation, Satepihu raised his tired eyes, greeting what he knew would be the last dawn of his great mission in life. The sun’s first golden rays were beginning to break far on the eastern horizon; like a beautiful advancing beacon, he thought, steadily forcing all the dark shadows into full retreat. The blessed day has finally come. Amun’s glory be praised! Almost an entire year had elapsed since their arrival in this remote valley, but he was satisfied their time was truly well spent. Not only had all of their many difficulties and challenges been met, but all were solved to perfection. Surely this, in itself, was proof of the Amun’s divine guidance, for by what other conceivable means could such a stunning accomplishment have been brought to fruition? High atop the limestone bluff, the old man breathed an audible sigh as he took a final look at the unparalleled vista below him, accepting that after today he would never see it again. Like their noble endeavor, he knew his time was also drawing rapidly to a close. But he accepted this knowledge with a joyous heart, confident he was bestowing all his earthly power and authority on the one best suited to succeed him as High Priest. Of this, he had no doubt. Now only one final task yet remained to him. The one he most dreaded to perform. As Satepihu took up his staff and struggled to rise, the devoted Nebnefer approached from behind, assisting his aged master to his feet. The young priest also knew the full significance of this day, and had likewise spent the past hours in reflective prayer. Below them, the encampment was just beginning to stir. The concern written on Nebnefer’s face didn’t escape Satepihu’s attention as the young man helped him down the sloping path. It was no secret�"and certainly not to one as faithful and observant as Nebnefer�"that the High Priest’s declining health was terminal. �śI will see this through, my son. Be of good cheer.” �śIt’s still early, master,” Nebnefer said in a worried voice. �śI beg you, take food and rest for a few hours. Everything is arranged as you commanded. Truly, it isn’t necessary for you to�"” �ś But it is , my son,” interrupted the old man. �śDo you think I would allow you to begin your time as High Priest with such a grim responsibility? No, this last burden is mine to bear, not yours. I want it known the decision to do this last thing came from my lips alone. Do you understand?” �śYes, master.” Despite Nebnefer’s obvious desire to see him rest, Satepihu chose to stand for a time outside his tent, looking across the encampment for any small detail he may have overlooked. But it appeared all his earlier instructions were obeyed�"even down to the careful removal and burial of all their campfire residues. The many hundreds of wooden beams scavenged from the Horus had served them very well, eventually becoming fuel by which to cook and keep warm over the long nights. Only the four largest yet remained fully intact, for these would today be required to lower the great stone into its final position. When this last service was complete, they also would be cut into more manageable lengths and removed by wagon to Siwah, there put to use as needed by the Oracle’s temple. Cedar was far too precious in Egypt to be wasted. As he thought on this, however, it now struck him the high number of wagons and mules visible outside the camp’s perimeter might generate far too much curiosity when Menna disposed of them in the markets of Qara, Siwah and Paraetonium. As he pondered on this, an idea suddenly came to him. Perhaps there was a way they could put it to a much better, albeit very expensive, purpose. Aloud, he asked, �śHow many wagons will Menna need to haul away the last of our provisions?” �śBy his calculation, almost all of what you see. Nine for the excess grain, and maybe another ten for everything else.” �śLeaving how many?” �śAt least eight, master.” �śDo we have enough mules for all?” �śI believe so, yes.” Satepihu considered this for some time, then abruptly said, �śGo and bring Menna here to me now. I wish to speak to him immediately.” �śAs you command,” said a puzzled Nebnefer. When Menna arrived, the old man quickly instructed him and Nebnefer on his inspired idea. He began by asking Menna a question, one that confused both men by its unusual nature. �śI know you and Paneb made great efforts to mask the locations, but how difficult will it be for you to locate the slave grave pits dug on the far side of the valley?” Menna glanced quizzically at Nebnefer; then gave a perplexed shrug. �śI�"I suppose I can,” he said. �śThere were three dug this past year alone. We’ve lost more than twenty slaves through attrition and sickness since Paneb and I started work here over four years ago. I know the last pit won’t be too hard to find. But I don’t see where�"” �ś For our purpose, I want you to find the very first ones dug.” �śMaster�"?” �śIt has come to me,” Satepihu said, �śthat perhaps we have a means by which to keep all the superstitious tribesmen well away from the vicinity of this valley�"and not just for the near future, but for generations yet to come. Listen carefully to what I say, Menna, and see if you don’t agree.” What he outlined to them was remarkably simple in concept, yet with the farseeing potential to virtually guarantee no sane man would ever intrude into this desolate area. To begin with, only the smallest number of wagons and mules were to be preserved. These few�"each loaded with just the bare minimum of necessities required by Menna and his men�"would be moved north to Paraetonium on the coast. As for the rest, not one of them would go to Qara or Siwah as previously planned. Instead, they would serve another purpose entirely. And herein lay the genius of the High Priest. All the remaining wagons were to be loaded equally with their surplus grain and provisions�"and the very last thing put on each, he told them, would be two bodies of the disinterred slaves. Though the younger men stared at him to hear this, they kept silent, watching as Satepihu now used the tip of his staff and drew a wide arc in the sand, one end representing Qara, the other the ancient, westerly route leading down into Siwah. What he proposed was for Menna to randomly select ten or more sites within this general area, then at each location create a horrific scene of violence using one or two of the fully loaded wagons. �ś You wish the wagons destroyed , master?” said Menna. �śWhat of the mules, the grain, the�"” �śI want the mules slain and left in their traces, a fair portion of the grain and provisions scattered close by. Before setting fire to the wagons you must first place the slave bodies in such a way that it appears all had belonged to them.” Though Menna was still confused, Nebnefer now fully comprehended where Satepihu was going with this. �śIf I understand your motives, master, what you intend to create is more than a grim warning. Hopefully, it will lay the seeds of a dark and forbidding mystery among all those who happen upon this strange enigma. By all evidence, these scenes could only be the work of an evil spirit. Certainly marauding bandits or thieves couldn’t possibly be blamed, for nothing of value was taken.” He paused. �śAm I correct?” Satepihu nodded, not surprised it was Nebnerfer to first figure it out. He again looked at Menna, asking, �śDo you also see the merits of this?” �śI do, master. All will be done as you command.” �śGood. Now I grow weary and would rest before our final gathering.” A few hours later, Satepihu sat on the single chair inside his spacious tent, before him the three men upon whom he had most relied over these past years. To his left, seated cross-legged on the carpet, a young scribe waited to record his every word, his parchment and ink pot prepared, his reed pen poised. The High Priest’s eyes went first to Nebnefer, and then to the other two, pleased both Paneb and Menna had appreciated the day’s importance enough to dress accordingly. They wore what he knew to be their best leather belts and cleanest tunics, proud of their great accomplishment�"as well they should be! Satepihu broke the silence, his voice measured and solemn. �śI will start by stating what surely must come as no surprise to anyone here, for my desires in this matter were known to you for some years.” He paused, his hand extended towards the scribe. �śLet it be written that with the rising of tomorrow’s sun, Nebnefer takes my place as Amun’s chosen High Priest, the one to whom you will give your total allegiance. Is this completely understood?” All present briefly bowed their heads in acceptance, for though this formal announcement was a long time coming, it was never in real doubt. This said, the old man concentrated his eyes on Menna. �śYou, my brave and able friend, have performed every task given you, never once asking what reward I would bestow upon you and your able men. Now I will tell you the full measure of Amun’s gratitude for your hard years of service to Him. On my instruction, Nebnefer has these past years seen to the purchase of many fertile fields and valuable properties throughout the Nile Valley, Siwah, and Paraetonium. At this hour tomorrow�"when the last of today’s tasks are completed�"you and your men will gather here to apportion these properties, as well as receive the necessary gold to begin your lives anew. Throughout the generations to come, know that you and all your families will be protected and cared for, their only obligation being their continuing loyalty and service to the High Priest�"and, too, their sacred oath to maintain the secrecy of what we have achieved here from any who would defile Amun’s son. How say you, Menna?” �śI am most humbly grateful, master.” Now Satepihu’s gaunt face seemed to darken, a sigh escaping his lips as he slowly shifted his gaze to the expectant features of Paneb. Here sat his chief stonecutter, arguably the one most responsible for the tomb’s miraculous creation. But now this knowledge weighed heavy on Satepihu, making his next words all the more painful. �śAnd you, Paneb? Have you anything to say to me? An explanation, perhaps, for your treachery?” The oldest of the �Śchosen ones’ visibly paled, his eyes widening in shock. �ś Treachery, master�"?” He blinked, his eyes darting from Satepihu to Nebnefer. �śI�"I don’t understand what you mean?” �śDon’t you?” Satepihu gave a faint nod to Nebnefer, who immediately stood and stepped to the tent’s entrance. When he parted the curtain, one of his young priests entered, struggling to carry a small, wooden chest. Behind him came two more priests, each armed with an iron-tipped spear. As the chest was placed before him, Satepihu said, �śSo how is it, Paneb, this was found buried in the sand beneath your tent?” The man swallowed hard, his contorted face that of someone trapped. �ś I didn’t put it there!” he cried. �śI’ve never seen this before!” �ś But you have , Paneb. Not fifteen days ago, this chest of gold coins was one of many you were charged to secure inside the tomb. Did you really believe they would go uncounted, their placement not verified?” When he gave no reply, Satepihu directing his next words to the loyal Menna, a man clearly stunned by what was unfolding. �śUnlike you, my friend, Paneb placed no faith in Amun’s desire or ability to reward all those who serve him faithfully. This is a true sadness to me, for it was I who selected him, believing him the one best suited to fulfill our need. My mistake was in seeing only his great talent, not the shallow depth of his devotion.” He paused. �śSince he offers no words to explain this sacrilege, I can but think his treachery was long planned, his sworn oath of secrecy a meaningless lie. It was ever his intention to return here, for how else was he to retrieve this chest from the sand? And once here�"despite what he, himself, might believe�"his innate greed would inevitably lead to yet further plundering and desecration.” Now Paneb collapsed, his outstretched hands clasped and trembling. �ś Please, master!” he sobbed. �śShow mercy. I�"I was much tempted and�"” �ś Mercy?” asked Satepihu, his eyes narrowing. �śLet me tell you the cost to others of your treachery! Until this was discovered, it was in my heart to somehow find a way to preserve the lives of those many poor slaves who labored under your charge. Now I see this cannot be done. You are living proof that the risks are too high.” He turned to the seated scribe, saying, �śRecord what I now say. By my command alone, Menna’s men are this day to take the slaves to the cavern opening, there slaying each in turn and casting him down. Explain to them, Panab, where your sacrilege has led!” �ś I beg of you, master�"” �ś You still dare ask for mercy?” The High Priest shook his head in disgust. �śLet it also be written that you, Paneb, will be the very last man cast down�"and alive! When the opening is sealed, I pray Amun grants you many hours, if not days, to face all those whose lives you caused to be destroyed.” �ś Master!” �śSilence! Take him away.” Satepihu then stood, allowing nothing further to be said. �śIt is over!” he declared in a strong voice, yet feeling drained beyond words to express. �śYou all know what is to be done. May Amun’s blessings be upon all of you from this day forth.” CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Once pulled free of the dark opening, David sat for several long seconds, catching his breath as the others stared at him in grim expectation. It was Elizabeth who finally broke the silence. �śHow�"how many bodies are down there?” she asked. He shook his head, his face unreadable. �śThere’s no way of knowing for sure until I get down there,” he said. �śBut it looks like a hell of a lot.” �śSo is this it, then?” she asked. �śThe tomb’s entrance?” �ś Well, it’s certainly something�" but just what exactly, it’s too early to tell.” �śBut it might be, right?” David was doubtful. �śDon’t set your hopes too high. If it is, then I’m reasonably certain it’s not the same one Lionel and Nawal found.” He glanced at the rock slab. �śIt took everything we had to move this. Remember, Lionel wasn’t that robust a man�"plus there’s the matter of Nawal’s injured leg.” Gobeir agreed with this conclusion. �ś He’s quite right, my dear. I doubt they were even aware of this.” He turned to David. �śSo what do we do now?” �ś I don’t see where we’ve much choice, Lewis. Ahmed’s going to have to lower me down by rope. It’s the only way.” �ś It is?” Rashidi looked again at the opening. �śForgive me for saying, Professor, but this seems a rather dangerous proposition, don’t you think? We’ve no idea how deep it is. Though I appreciate your confidence in me, I really don’t know how long I’d be able to�"” �ś You won’t have to, Ahmed. I’ve something different in mind. That is if I can get it up here . . .” �ś Get what up here?” �ś The jeep.” Bringing it topside wasn’t as difficult as David first anticipated. He found the necessary �Śramp’ less than a hundred yards back north of the basin’s narrow mouth. It was a long, natural feature of the valley’s slumping western border, an extended slope made up of broken rock and hard, packed sand. A single run at it carried him up and over onto the surrounding plateau. Next, he maneuvered the jeep to within feet of the fissure’s opening and left the engine running. With Rashidi’s help, he then unbolted the vehicle’s heavy mesh grill, exposing the front-mounted electric winch. The inside rope tightly wrapped on its solid cylinder looked relatively new and in decent condition. Now he only hoped the winch mechanism was in comparable shape. A quick tension test with Elizabeth behind the wheel showed everything was functioning properly. The operating controls were two buttons on the lower dash. Depressing the left one provided a gradual release, the right an equally slow power rewind. His instructions to her were simple. �śJust keep the engine running and the battery should hold its charge,” he told her. �śShe’s in park, so whatever you do, don’t bump the gear shift or disengage the emergency brake, okay?” �ś In other words, touch only the buttons . . .” �ś You got it.” �ś But what if I screw up and�"” �ś You’ll be fine. Just follow Ahmed’s hand signals for forward and reverse. It couldn’t be simpler.” She gave a nervous nod. �ś Would you rather I worked the winch?” asked Gobeir. �ś Not to cut you out of this, Lewis, but since Ahmed and I will have our hands full, we need you back there on sentry. Take the rifle. If you see or hear anything the least bit suspicious, fire off a round to warn us.” �ś Will do, old boy. And good luck. No undue risks now, hear?” In response to Rashidi’s gestures, Elizabeth fed out enough rope to reach the edge of the opening, plus a few extra yards. What remained on the cylinder looked to be at least another thirty feet, more than adequate to the task. David removed his revolver, passing it over to Rashidi, then tied a secure slip-noose on the rope’s end, looping it snug over the instep of his right boot. He then wrapped it twice around his leg for additional security. Flashlight in hand, he was now prepared to make the descent. Rashidi took up the last few feet of slack and fed it out as Dave crawled slowly backwards over the rounded edge. The rope came abruptly taut just as he began to slide off the lip, his full weight now held by the winch. So far, so good. �śIf you can manage it, Ahmed, keep the rope directly over this section of stone. Too far left or right and it might start to abrade on these sharper sections.” �ś I’ll watch it. Are you ready?” �ś As much as I’ll ever be. Have her feed out several more feet and we’ll see how it goes.” Rashidi gave the signal, and David started dropping progressively lower. The lip’s cutback happened sooner than expected, and he snapped on the flashlight as he lost physical contact with the wall. Only Rashidi’s head remained visible above him. �śOkay, that’s good. Hold it here for a moment.” Now fully suspended, he played the beam around for his first full look at his grim surroundings. The fissure was incredibly large, far wider and deeper than he originally imagined. It was a mammoth teardrop configuration, the smooth walls angling away from him in all directions. The overall effect was of being suspended inside a hanging balloon half-filled with water. But it wasn’t water that he saw below him as he pointed the beam downward. Instead, it was an enormous slumping cone of limestone chips, the like and size of which he’d never seen before. And scattered across its surface were virtually dozens of human skeletons, far too many to count. �ś I’m directly over a veritable mountain of cut rubble and debris,” he shouted up. �śIt’s absolutely huge�"tons of limestone chips like you wouldn’t believe.” �ś Excavation material?” �ś Unquestionably. The peak is about fourteen feet below me. There it fans out and away a solid twenty feet to the outer walls, and that’s at least another thirty feet lower than I am right now.” Amazed by what he saw, he passed the beam around a second time. Without knowing the fissure’s original depth, it was impossible to even estimate the total mass of material dumped in here. �śIf all of this came from just one tomb excavation, Ahmed, then whatever they created has to be of considerable size.” �ś And what of the bones, Professor?” �ś They’re strewn everywhere across the cone�"and God knows how many others below at the bottom. Have Elizabeth lower me down some more. I want a better look at all this.” At Rashidi’s unseen signal he began the final phase of his descent, concentrating the light’s tight beam on the macabre picture developing below. A morbid tangle of human skeletons rose towards him�"at least forty, maybe more�"and he felt the eerie sensation of violating some ancient graveyard. And by all appearances, the bones were very ancient, indeed. �ś Hold it here,” he shouted up. �śThat’s far enough.” He came to a stop just shy of actually touching the sloping edge of the cone’s tip, a position from where he could examine several individual remains up close. All looked to be relatively young; very few, if any, having reached middle age. The nearest one still wore crude sandals on his feet, and across his separated pelvic bones were the tattered remnants of what was once a scant loincloth of some sort. This was what David expected to find. If he needed further evidence these poor unfortunates had been lowly slaves, then the next skeleton over provided it. Here lay the remains of a youth, a boy probably not yet out of his teens. When he played the light over his fragmented skull, he noted the deep indentation bands in the enamel of his teeth, a permanent record of a pathetically short lifetime of malnutrition. Sadly, there were also telling scar lines on the humerus bones of each arm, showing where years of heavy lifting had severely damaged the young man’s muscle attachments. He shouted for Rashidi to hoist him back up. He’d seen quite enough. David made a final assessment as he ascended, casting the beam around the dark perimeter of the dome-shaped chamber. In his judgment there was nothing here to warrant further exploration. The sole entry point was from above. A grisly tomb, most assuredly, but not the one they were seeking. For roughly two thousand years this vast cavern hewn by nature had served but one gruesome purpose. Rashidi gradually came back into view. �ś Well, Professor?” he asked. �śWhat’s your evaluation?” �ś The fissure’s damn big,” David repeated, �śbut it goes nowhere. It’s basically an enormous dumpsite. Whatever was excavated has to be located somewhere else.” �ś And the bones?” �ś Murdered workers. All slaves, most likely. When their labor was no longer required, the poor devils were killed and dumped inside before the top was sealed�"just more physical debris which needed to be hidden away in order to keep the secret.” Now roughly three feet below the opening’s under lip, David saw Rashidi kneeling in preparation to assist him out. He snapped off the flashlight, saying, �śIt’s a horrible picture. Their bodies are piled up down there like discarded pieces of�"” �ś Ahmed, look out�"!” The screamed warning came from Elizabeth, and the upward movement of the rope abruptly stopped. What the�"! Dangling just out of reach, David saw Rashidi spin around in surprise, grabbing for the revolver. But he wasn’t near quick enough to beat the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. The bullet slammed him sideways into the opening, and there he toppled headfirst over the lip. David’s desperate attempt to prevent the fall was painfully futile. Instinctively dropping the flashlight, he made a frantic grab with his free arm�"but the wrenching tear of Rashidi’s limp weight hurtling down on him was too great. Himself almost torn from the rope, he could only watch as the younger man plummeted into the black void, followed by the sound of his body impacting on the debris below. From above came only silence. �ś Elizabeth!” he cried. �śAnswer me if you�"” He caught a glimpse of movement, then squinted his eyes as a dark silhouette of a man’s head and shoulders now appeared at the opening. �ś So sorry, Manning, but I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment. She’s hardly in any position to help extricate you from your rather amusing predicament.” Who in the hell�"? David leaned back on the rope, angling for a better view. The mocking voice was strangely familiar, but the face remained no more than black outline against the bright sky overhead. Yet I know this man from somewhere! �ś Who are you?” he demanded to know. �śWhat’ve you done to her?” �ś Finding it difficult to see, are you? Ah, yes, the light! Still, I must confess to being a bit disappointed you haven’t recognized me yet. But it’ll come to you eventually. Then again, you really don’t have all that much time left, do you? Perhaps a small clue is in order.” �ś Where is she, damn you! Tell me!” The man chuckled. �ś Well, if you really must know, the girl’s taken a nasty knock on the head. She’s still alive, mind you�"at least for the time being, anyway.” He paused. �śFor just how long, I really can’t say. The last few days have been particularly grueling. It would be a shame for my friend and myself to deny ourselves the pleasure of her company until it actually becomes necessary. And quite a charming young lady she is! Why, it seems like only yesterday she and I sat and enjoyed a most pleasant�"albeit brief�"conversation in Salonika. Does this perhaps refresh your memory, Professor?” Now it came to him. �ś Sal�"? Sal Oristano!” �ś Congratulations. A bit of a surprise, is it not?” �ś It was you behind all of this?” David’s mind raced. �śThose killings? That Egyptian following our every move?” �ś And a most fascinating experience it all was. Too bad for you it has to end this way. There are always winners and losers, Manning. Today seems to be my day to prevail.” Salonika! Oh, God! Edith! David knew without asking that Sal was surely responsible for her death, as well. The knowledge sickened him. But he also knew his only possible hope was in keeping Oristano talking. Think! Stall for time! �ś You haven’t won yet,” he said. �śYou moved too soon, Sal, blowing any chance of getting your hands on anything! There’s no tomb down here. There’s nothing but�"” �ś Old bones and rubble, right? The piled remains of workers and slaves. You see, I overheard almost everything you shouted up. An ancient dumpsite with only one way in or out. A mild disappointment, I admit, but really only a minor setback.” �ś Minor? You’re crazy if you think you don’t need us. You haven’t a prayer in hell of finding the tomb.” �ś Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong. But then you’ve been deceived by a good many things lately. I’ll win the prize, believe me. And as for you�"” He shook his head. �śWhat you fail to understand is that my rather large friend and I need no longer rely on your heroic efforts to locate it. In fact, we’ve got someone up here who knows precisely where it’s hidden�"and always has known! Getting him to reveal this knowledge is only a matter of applying the right persuasive techniques. And since my friend is somewhat of an expert in this field, I foresee no problems.” He paused only long enough to light a cigarette; then said, �śI refer, of course, to none other than your companion Dr. Gobeir. Does this also surprise you?” �ś Lewis? Christ, you really are insane!” �ś Sort of makes you look like a complete fool, doesn’t it? But it’s all quite true, I assure you. You’ve played into his hands from the day you arrived in Egypt. You and the girl were just too caught up in the hunt to realize it. Want some proof?” David only stared up at him. �ś Oh, come now, Manning, is this really so difficult to accept? Think back for a moment. Consider all the events, all the many little discoveries and breakthroughs that eventually led you to Yousef Mehra. Can you think of even one that didn’t originate with you�"one that came solely through the efforts of Gobeir or Rashidi?” He waited. �śNo, I suspect not. All in all, a rather remarkable deception on their part. They even had me fooled for a time. They were very clever, even down to the elaborate trap they arranged at the entrance of this godforsaken valley.” �śTrap�"? What the hell are you talking about?” �ś Ah, yes, something else you didn’t know about. Four of them, there were. I examined their campsite. Interestingly enough, they were already in position a full day before you arrived. Yet you weren’t interfered with, were you? That’s because their purpose was to ambush and kill whoever tried to enter after your group passed through. Too bad we had to go and spoil everything for them.” �śYou’re babbling, Sal. Talking nonsense!” �ś Am I, Professor? Then ask yourself this; except for you and the girl, who else but Gobeir and Rashidi knew anyone was following you? No, it was Gobeir, all right. But you believe whatever you like. It’s no longer of any consequence to me one way or the other.” Oristano drew a knife, holding it for David to see. �śA small souvenir from one of those men,” he said. �śI suppose I could simply shoot you before sealing this back up, but I’ve a far more interesting fate in store for you. One I think more appropriate to your profession�"and infinitely more satisfying to me.” He put the knife to the rope, slicing deep into the fibers. �ś Should you survive the fall�"which I sincerely hope you do�"use what time remains to you to ponder all your many errors. And just think; perhaps in another thousand years, or so, it might well be your bones some enterprising archaeologist stumbles upon. You were an interesting adversary, but I fear you were overmatched from the start. In the final analysis, I’m sure you’ll agree my winning was quite inevitable.” �ś Wait!” �śIt’s all over, Manning. Accept it.” The strained rope severed with a snapping twang, and he saw Oristano’s grinning face race upwards as he plunged. * * * David awoke into a strange, cold limbo of darkness, somehow feeling as if he was lying naked on a tilted bed of busted glass. Too, there was a faint, plaintive sound emanating out of the surrounding black void. Someone moaning? He listened without moving, unsure if he was conscious or dreaming. It was the persistent ache in his back and limbs that finally convinced him it was no dream. Again the weak moan . . . tremulous, almost disembodied. Ahmed? Now he remembered; the shooting, the grinning Oristano, the jarring fall. Oh, God�"those madmen have Elizabeth! His level of pain rose as he sat up. The mild nausea he felt was explainable by the swollen knot he found above his right ear. He inhaled deeply, fighting to regain control. Was this the extent of his injuries? He moved both his legs�"tentative at first�"then his arms, flexing and straightening. The sticky patches on his shirtsleeves and pants hurt to the touch, but weren’t in themselves debilitating; just minor cuts and abrasions. Thankfully, no broken bones. The sloping edge of the rubble must’ve absorbed the brunt of his fall. But how long ago was that? An hour�"two�"or was it mere minutes? He was surprised to discover his lighter still inside his shirt pocket. The small, bright flame momentarily hurt his eyes as he brought it close to his wristwatch. Damn! The dial told him nothing. The crystal face was shattered, the hands frozen at eight minutes past two o’clock. He struggled to his feet, holding the lighter high to get his bearings. It rapidly overheated in his hand, yet without it he was effectively blind. The butane wouldn’t last much longer. What he desperately needed was the�" There! Not five feet away! Scrambling to the fallen flashlight, he snatched it up, amazed it had survived in better condition than he dared hope. The glass was cracked, the plastic housing sprung; but it worked when he snapped it on, He swung the beam around, locating Ahmed lying fifteen feet lower at the furthest extreme of the rubble floor. In a macabre sense, he wasn’t alone. Scattered around him were the fragmented skeletons of several long-dead slaves, nameless souls who had taken the exact some plunge uncounted centuries before. Still unconscious, the younger man appeared next to dead when he gently eased him onto his back. Unlike David, he’d landed headfirst onto the steep face of the cone�"and the predictable damage to his upper body was grotesque to see. The most conspicuous was a deep diagonal cut running from his brow to his chin, slicing away most of one eyebrow. Since the worst of the bleeding had ceased, he left the congealed smear untouched. Of far more concern was the ugly gash on the crown of his head, for any damage to the skull was potentially life threatening. Here the blood had likewise stopped flowing, but a careful look under the eyelids revealed the left pupil to be abnormally dilated. Not a positive sign. At minimum, a concussion. David ripped open the tattered shirt, exposing the chest and right arm. Oristano’s aim had been off. The small caliber bullet had struck high in the shoulder, shattering the collarbone and deflecting upward. With no visible exit wound, the slug was likely lodged in the surrounding muscle tissue. A cautious squeezing of the entire limb from shoulder to wrist indicated no obvious fractures. Another moan, louder this time. Rashidi was beginning to come around. Stripping off his shirt, he fit and tied both sleeves up behind the neck, then draped the rest across the chest to form a makeshift sling. He wanted to complete the next procedure before Rashidi awoke, but this wasn’t to be. As he carefully lifted and positioned the slack arm, the pain of this movement hastened a return to consciousness. He groaned, clenching his teeth as David finishing the procedure. �śJust lay easy, Ahmed. It’s going to be okay.” �śIs�"is that you, Ibrahim?” A convulsive fit of coughing distended a vein in his neck. �śWh�"where have you�"you�"” Ibrahim? David stared at him for a long moment, Oristano’s parting words now coming back to him. Was it possible everything he told him was true? Surely the accusation was patently absurd. But what if it wasn’t? Why the hell would Oristano fabricate a lie about being ambushed? �śIt’s David,” he said aloud. �śWho�"?” �śDavid,” he repeated. �śDavid Manning.” �śYou, Professor?” He blinked rapidly, uncertainty on his face. �śI�"I don’t understand what�"what�"” �śYou’ve been shot. And you’ve taken a bad fall. Can you remember any of what happened?” �śNo, I�"” Rashidi’s focus wavered. �śI can’t seem to�"to�"” �śKeep your eyes open, Ahmed. Stay awake! You’ve got a concussion. Do you understand me?” �śSo tired, drowsy�"” �śNo! Keep talking to me. Focus! Try and concentrate. Elizabeth shouted at you, trying to warn you. Remember?” �śYes. I turned and I�"I�"” �śAnd what?” �śI’m so very tired. Just a few�"” �ś No, dammit! Keep talking! After you turned, then what? Tell me!” Rashidi’s breathing was less shallow, his face more alert. �śI grabbed for the revolver,” he said, his voice stronger. �śBut it was already too late.” David helped him sit up. �śThat’s better,” he encouraged. �śTell me what you saw.” �śA man. He was standing beside the jeep, aiming at me. After that, nothing . . .” David’s suspicion still lingered. If he was to trick Rashidi into saying something unintended, then it must be done now while he was still disorientated. �śThe one who shot you is a man named Oristano.” �ś You know him?” �śHe and his oversized companion have been following us since Salonika. He told me as much before he cut the rope. They killed Ibrahim and the others. They’re keeping Lewis and Elizabeth alive for a time, but you and I were both expendable.” Rashidi was blinking again, trying to grasp what was being said. �śThen they’re both still alive, you say?” �śNot for long,” he replied. He sat back on his heels, angling the flashlight to better watch Rashidi’s confused eyes. A cold, sick feeling invaded his gut, for he now saw a deceptive mask where none had existed before. �śOristano and his knife-happy friend are torturing Lewis, trying to force him into revealing the tomb’s location.” �śWhat�"?” Rashidi blanched. �śThat�"that’s insane!” �śIs it, Ahmed?” He saw genuine shock register in his eyes�"but absolutely no trace of bewilderment. He felt his anger rising. So it really was true! �śTell me about this Ibrahim?” �śWho?” �śIbrahim. You know, one of the four ambushers at the valley entrance.” �śBut how did�"?” Rashidi swallowed, obviously realizing his error. His fa�żade began to crumble. �śI�"I don’t know an Ibrahim. You’re putting words in�"” �śThe game’s over, Ahmed,” David said, getting to his feet. His fist clenched as he kept the beam on the younger man’s paling features. �śIf I had the time, I’d gladly kill you myself, you lying bastard! And to think I fell for it! You and Lewis had all this worked out from day one, didn’t you? So tell me. Who were Ibrahim and his friends scheduled to kill last when this whole charade was over? Elizabeth and me? That’s how it was all supposed to play out, right?” �śNo, I�"” �ś Liar! You and Lewis knew about this valley all along, didn’t you? Now all your fucking lies have backfired on you, big time. Your dead friends out there really messed up bad, Ahmed. You and Lewis didn’t plan all this quite as smart as you thought! So why not just admit the damn truth?” This time Rashidi made no attempt to respond. Instead, he only averted his face from the intrusive light. David shook his head in disgust, knowing this was getting him nowhere. He turned away and began climbing back up the cone’s slope. Time was fast running out for Elizabeth. With or without Rashidi’s help, he had to escape this hellhole�"or die trying! Brave words from a man already buried alive! He returned to where he’d fallen, there playing the flashlight around the dome’s high ceiling. Nothing he saw offered the least bit of hope. A spider would have trouble scaling those featureless walls. And even if it was reachable, there remained the impasse of the stone slab. From the underside, nothing short of a stick of dynamite was needed! He retrieved the cut section of rope, coiling it into a tight circle. Ten, maybe twelve feet. Not much to work with, yet it might prove useful. But how? All that remained was the cavern floor. Was it possible he missed something when he was suspended from above? A side cave, or maybe an unseen opening in the smooth wall? Anything! Before starting his exploration, he flicked the beam back towards Rashidi, assuring himself the younger man hadn’t slipped back into unconsciousness. As before, he sat cradling his arm, seemingly withdrawn into a mute and despairing world of his own creation. �śNot yet ready to talk, Ahmed?” David worked his way downward and to his right, sweeping the light in front of him. The fluid-like surface of the sloping cone flattened out near the bottom, yet walking remained tricky. Despite two millennia of undisturbed settling, the conglomerate of limestone chips and broken rock was still somewhat fluid and unstable. Aloud, he said, �śYou know, I have to commend the acting job you two pulled off. Very convincing. I can only think of one instance where Lewis almost gave it away.” Now again at the base of the cone, he saw the debris abutted solidly against the cavern’s perimeter, leaving no hint as to the chamber’s true depth. Disappointed he walked on, steadying himself on the cool wall. �śWant to know when this was, Ahmed?” Silence. �śIt was last night. He told Elizabeth he was with the Zuker expedition in the Faiyum, a little known dig sponsored by the University of Michigan. That’s my old alma mater, so I’m fairly familiar with all their accomplishments. Guess what year it was?” Still nothing. �śIt was 1956. No big deal, except Lewis had early on made a specific point of saying he was in England furthering his education throughout that entire year. My mistake was in not calling him on the discrepancy. I let it pass, thinking he was just old and tired and confused. What else could I contribute it to, right? I mean, it’s not as if the charming, old fellow had any reason to lie about his whereabouts in �Ś56, now is there? Hell, if I believed that, then I might even be crazy enough to suspect him of being involved in Lionel’s murder.” If the sarcasm had any effect, it wasn’t evident in Rashidi’s continued silence. Now roughly a third of the way around the massive pile of rubble, David found the elevation of debris to be somewhat higher, the chunks of stone noticeably larger. What, if anything, this meant, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps this part of the cavern was the first section filled. He moved on, still searching with the beam. �śSo how exactly did it all come about, Ahmed? The discovery, I mean. Who found it first? Elizabeth’s grandfather�"or did Lewis beat him to it?” Again, he paused, expecting and receiving no reply. �śWell, I guess it doesn’t matter at this point. The blanks are easy enough to fill in. What surprises me is there’s still anything left worth killing over. Let’s face it, over half a century of unhindered plundering is a damn long time, don’t you think? What’s taken so long to get the job done?” He detected a faint shifting of stones from Rashidi’s direction. Had he finally hit a nerve? �śIt’s kind of funny,” he continued, �śhow hindsight and a little knowledge gives an entirely different perspective on events. I recall how concerned Lewis was when he thought I’d told Omar Bayoumi about the gold disk. More like panic. Makes me wonder if Bayoumi would be alive today if I really had told him. Probably not, right? After all, what’s one more murder when weighed against keeping all this a secret?” Now Rashidi spoke. �śYou’re wrong, Professor,” he said out of the dark. �śIf you believe nothing else of us, I swear on all things holy, we never thought it would ever come to this. What you accuse us of is�"is�"” He paused to catch his breath, his emotion palpable. �śWe are not thieves, not looters. We are its protectors! You ask who first discovered the tomb? For us, the sacred resting place of Amun’s son was never lost to begin with. You want the truth, so there it is! We who are entrusted with his safekeeping have always known the tomb’s location.” Across the cavern, David stopped in his tracks. This is pure fantasy, he thought. Why am I even listening? Yet he did know why. God help his sanity, but there was actually something indefinable in Rashidi’s voice that prevented total disbelief. �śProfessor, did you hear what I�"” �śI heard you, Ahmed. It’s ludicrous. Are you telling me the ancient priesthood still lives? Lewis�"you�"the others�"?” �śConsidering where you presently find yourself, is this so difficult to accept?” Oddly enough, it wasn’t. �śThen you’re admitting it really was Lewis who killed Lionel? Seems to me he couldn’t have been�"what, maybe twenty, or so? Kind of young for that kind of work, or did murder just come natural to him?” Unseen in the dark, Rashidi heaved an audible sigh. �śHis motives were never what you think, Professor. It’s true that Lionel and Nawal were�"of necessity�"silenced on his orders, but I assure you their deaths brought him no pleasure. Quite the contrary. Please understand, there was simply no other way to prevent their remarkable achievement from becoming common knowledge. If any other avenue existed, he would’ve gladly taken it.” �śTry running that past Elizabeth. A killer with scruples . . .” �śYou’re quick to heap scorn, Professor. Too quick for one who has no knowledge of what actually happened.” David swallowed his anger, thinking all of this verbal sparring was pointless. �śOkay,” he said. �śSo, convince me.” The younger man took a few moments to gather his thoughts; then said, �śIt’s your prerogative to judge him harshly, Professor, but consider these facts. If Gobeir was the heartless killer you seem predisposed to believe, would he have stopped with just Lionel and Nawal? What about Nawal’s brother, Yousef? And what of Lionel’s friend and possible confidant, Paul Cameron? If for no other reason than simple prudence, wouldn’t such a man as you describe have ordered their elimination, as well?” A valid point, David admitted. �śBut he didn’t,” continued Rashidi. �śDespite his sworn oath to preserve the integrity of this valley, he gambled on the possibility neither of them knew what happened on that fateful desert trip. Rather than spill more blood, he instead took on the burden of having them closely watched for a period of years until finally satisfying himself that this was truly the case.” Listening to this argument, David acceded the point. But as interesting as all this information was, it wasn’t going to aid in his escape from this hellish place. He began walking again, probing ahead with the flashlight. �śKeep talking, Ahmed,” he said. �śTell me more.” �śSuch as?” �śThe gold disk, for openers. How was Lionel able to get it out of Alexandria without Lewis knowing?” �śQuite simply, Gobeir never even discovered it missing until a great many weeks after the fact. He knew Lionel and Nawal had found the valley�"but the tomb, itself? This was thought inconceivable. Thus when the full magnitude of their achievement was realized, it was already too late. Both perpetrators were dead, the whereabouts of the disk a complete mystery. No clues ever surfaced to say what became of it.” �śThen low and behold, Elizabeth and I show up all these years later. And right at Lewis’ door, no less. What a godsend for him.” David took a brief moment to rest. He’d noted what appeared to be a faint, horizontal seam on the cavern wall. Scarcely visible, it was difficult to track. Just where it might lead was yet to be seen. �śYou know, if all you say is true, just why the hell did you let us get where we are now? I can think of a half-dozen places along the line where you two could’ve stopped our investigation cold. So why didn’t you?” �śIt’s rather difficult to explain . . .” �śTry.” Rashidi obliged. �śUnderstand, Professor, your arrival with the disk took us totally by surprise. We weren’t prepared for such an unforeseen eventuality. To say we were merely thrown into confusion would be an understatement. A whole array of factors had to be considered and resolved. And quickly! We needed to buy time to devise a workable strategy. Thus it was preferable�"at least initially, anyway�"to allow your investigation to run its course unhindered.” �śPreferable to what?” �śTo letting you go elsewhere for assistance; which is what you undoubtedly would’ve done if we hadn’t appeared behind your endeavor. The last thing we wanted was to have others�"such as Omar Bayoumi, for instance�"involved in your search.” �śThe problem of containment?” �śExactly. All else became of secondary importance.” �śSeems to me, Ahmed, you could’ve had it both ways. Why not play the part and still block the investigation?” �śTo what end? The result could only be self-defeating, for consider the outcome if we succeeded. If you soon reached a dead end on Lionel’s trail, how would you and Elizabeth dispose of such a remarkable artifact? Honorable man that you are, it almost certainly would’ve ended up on display in the Egyptian Museum for the whole world to view. The prospect of this happening only compounded our dilemma, forcing us to tread a very fine line.” �śIf that’s so, aren’t you leaving out the obvious solution to all this? At some point Lewis surely must’ve contemplated the need for yet another �Śaccident’, right?” Rashidi’s response was immediate. �śIf he did, then thoughts along this line were never shared with me. You may doubt my words, but it’s the truth. In all frankness, I don’t know what final solution he might’ve settled upon; but I do know all the many plans we discussed in those first days, not one ever entailed anything injurious to either you or Elizabeth. On this I swear.” Surprising to himself, David believed him. But only as far as those first few days were concerned. After that, he knew, events and priorities must’ve altered dramatically, taking several unpleasant turns for Gobeir. Nor was it difficult to pinpoint exactly when and where it began. �śThen everything changed, didn’t it? And with good reason. First was the murder of the eavesdropper, Hassan; then that chase from the monastery only two days later. Suddenly you found yourselves in a whole new game, one with more players than you and Lewis suspected.” �śAn accurate analogy, yes. Despite what Haleem and Khafaghi chose to believe, we couldn’t discard the possibility others knew of the gold disk. Now we had to allow your investigation to evolve much further than we ever intended.” �śIn other words, we were being used as bait.” �śIn a manner of speaking,” Rashidi admitted. �śNaturally, it was our fervent hope we were completely wrong, but this seemed the only logical course.” �śJust out of curiosity, Ahmed, where exactly was your final cut-off point? I mean, there must’ve been a holding line somewhere in all this. How far were you really prepared to go before finally blocking any more information on Lionel?” �śThat was established right at the beginning,” replied Rashidi. �śYou see, we always recognized the possibility�"if not the actual likelihood�"you might eventually make some sort of rough connection between Lionel and Burkhart’s lead man, Nawal Mehra. We never assumed it inevitable, but nor did we underestimate your cleverness and tenacity. Because of this, Gobeir decided early on that should you ever make such a linkage, no follow-up information about the man would ever reach you. And this I believe we could’ve accomplished, for I spent considerable time researching the subject. We were satisfied the only written information in existence on him was that single card in the archives.” �śSo what stopped you from withholding it?” Rashidi’s answer was blunt. �śIt was the death of your great-aunt, Edith Whiteley. Being of a more suspicious mind than you, we started fearing the worse. Perhaps it was merely coincidental, but it was disturbing enough for us to rethink where to draw the line on Nawal. In order to be absolutely sure, we gambled on advancing your investigation yet one more step. Thus we faked the telephone call from my room in Alexandria as a means of providing you with Nawal’s former address in Matruh. The call never took place. I’d already pulled and destroyed that card two days before we left Cairo.” He paused; then added, �śNeedless to say, this last gamble proved disastrous for everyone concerned.” �śBecause of Yousef’s little bombshell, right? The old man knew a hell of a lot more than Lewis ever dreamed he did.” �śIndeed. For us, everything hung on what we always assumed was an absolute truth: no matter what, the trail of the gold disk couldn’t possibly extend beyond Matruh. Even if you found Yousef still alive�"something we ourselves weren’t sure of�"our ultimate safety net, so to speak, was Gobeir’s conviction Yousef had no knowledge of where his brother and Lionel went on that fateful summer. Thus you can appreciate his horror when he heard the old man’s story unfold. And when it seemed things couldn’t possibly get worse, it did just that! Yousef’s murder only hours later effectively destroyed our last chance of containment. The manner of his death�"linked as it so obviously was to the death of the nun in Matariyah�"said others now knew the location of this valley.” Having made almost a full circuit of the cone, David saw the curious seam in the cavern wall was beginning to angle downward. Still tracking it, he picked up the threads of what Ahmed was telling him. �śSo I take it that’s when Lewis figured he’d no option but to call in the reserves. He put this Ibrahim and the others in a position to nail whoever tried to follow us.” �śEssentially, yes.” �śSo the overall arrangements were put in whose care? No, wait. Let me guess. Was it the obsequious Mr. Wassef?” �śVery good, Professor. I see you’ve figured him out. Yes, he’s one of us. A good man, though I feared his deferential manner to Gobeir was perhaps a bit over�"” �śHold it, Ahmed!” �śWhat is it?” David didn’t respond, his attention now wholly on the wall just ahead of him. The promising seam had suddenly grown much wider. He scrambled forward, seeing in the flashlight’s beam that it had become a true fracture, one stabbing straight down beneath the outermost perimeter of rubble. Even more encouraging was a pathetic figure lying face down in the shallow depression where the two surfaces came together. �śProfessor, is there something over there I�"” �śDamn right there is! It just might be our way out.” Rashidi was incredulous. �śNo, that’s simply not possible. Our records of this place are most concise. The written description says there’s but one exit�"and that’s up above.” �śWell, I’ve got someone in front of me who says different.” CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Once he assisted Rashidi across the cavern floor, David had him sit and hold the flashlight in his good hand as he then carefully examined the single figure lying at the bottom of the shallow pit. The skeletal remains were clearly different in a few aspects, not the least being the apparent age at time death. Unlike the others, this man was definitely older, his teeth worn, yet lacking any noticeable evidence of malnutrition. Too, he’d been far better clothed, for the tattered remnants of a leather belt and full tunic were still visible around the ancient bones. He’d obviously survived his initial entombment for several days, time he used to begin digging frantically into the mass of rubble before finally expiring. David removed the skeleton, placing it up and out of his way. Rashidi shook his head in bewilderment, looking mystified as to why any of this should be cause for excitement. �śProfessor, I really don’t see where there’s anything here to get�"” �śLook at the man’s leg,” David said, beginning the process of tossing more stone chunks from the bottom of the small pit. �śWhat does it tell you?” Rashidi did so, now finding the tibia of the left leg was completely severed just below the knee. �śWell, I can see where moving as much stone as he did must’ve put him in excruciating pain,” he said, �śbut this hardly proves he knew something we don’t. People are capable of desperate and irrational things when faced with imminent death. The man was probably panic-stricken, half out of his mind.” �śYou still don’t get it, do you?” David snatched the flashlight from Rashidi’s hand, casting the beam across the field of settled stone. �śOver there is where I landed. Now lower still, following the same path down, is where you and most of the other bodies ended up. That’s the natural fall line. Therefore, the assumption is this fellow came down in the same area, right? Look around. There are very few exceptions. I’m guessing all of them were probably stabbed or bludgeoned prior to being dumped in here. Yet this man�"either by chance or design�"somehow managed to avoid the quick death. He was badly hurt, but very much alive when the top was originally sealed off.” �śOnly to go crazy, I fear. I’m sorry, but I still don’t see�"” �ś Crazy, my ass! He knew exactly what he was doing! Look at the height difference between here and where he came down. Not only is this section higher, but the debris is heavier, a lot more difficult to move. Despite his shattered leg, he crawled up and over to the only place where he knew escape was still possible�"and that’s directly beneath this fracture line.” Rashidi looked at the vertical indentation in the otherwise solid wall of stone, noting how it seemed to deepen as it descended. He didn’t appear totally convinced, but at least willing to be hopeful. �śThe rationale makes sense,” he said, his voice now cautiously optimistic. �śIf there truly is an opening down there, he may have spotted it long before this chamber was back-filled with excavation rubble.” He paused. �śProfessor, do you really think we have a chance?” �śI’ve got to believe it’s here. This poor devil’s misfortune was he just didn’t live long enough to reach it.” He returned the light to Rashidi, again picking out chunks of rubble. �śWhatever the hell he saw, let’s hope it’s not twenty feet further down.” David continued to throw out busted hunks of stone, deepening the pit layer by layer. There was little point in pacing himself. Even if Rashidi was capable of assisting�"which he wasn’t�"the limited size of the pit only allowed room for one to effectively dig. As cool as the cavern was, sweat soon ran from his hair, seeping into his eyes. The steady perspiration loss would only acceleration his dehydration, he knew, but such considerations were now meaningless. Better to die fighting, he reasoned, than to succumb later without a struggle. By his estimation, a half hour slipped by, his arms and cut hands craving a few moments of rest. He’d excavated roughly two feet down into the packed debris when he felt what could only be described as a light movement across his fingers. It happened just as he pried loose a particularly large section of stone . God, he thought, don’t let this be my imagination! Dropping to his knees, he caught a distinct whiff of something unpleasant. He extracted his cigarette lighter, saying, �śKill the light for a second.” �śWhy? What’ve you�"?” �śJust do it!” His sore fingers trembling, David sparked the lighter. It caught immediately; then promptly flickered out. He lit it again, this time cupping the tiny flame with his other hand. Now it held�"but just barely. �śThere’s an air current here. And it’s very warm!” Rashidi understood the significance. Air simply moving from one sealed chamber to another would be equally cool. �śDo you think it’s coming from somewhere being heated by the sun?” �śIt has to be!” David attacked the remaining rubble with renewed vigor, eventually expanding the opening to a size he could squeeze into. Taking the flashlight, he then maneuvered his upper body through the breach, probing ahead with the beam. The small slot ahead of him looked more the configuration of an oval crevice than a navigable tunnel, only marginally wider than the opening, it angled upward and to the right. How far it went, or to where, was impossible to tell. Now the foul, musty odor was considerably stronger, not unlike a nauseous gas. �śWhat do you see?” �śDamn little. But wherever it goes has to be better than here.” �śI’m afraid you’ll have to go it alone. My arm and shoulder being what it is, I don’t think I can squirm through so narrow an�"” �śYou can make it,” said David. He drew his legs through, finding enough room to turn and face the breach. �śFirst pass me the coil of rope, then lay down on your back where I can reach under your good arm.” Rashidi did as instructed. �śLike this?” �śThat’ll do. Just ease over a little on your side so I can grab�"there, that’s good. Now it’s going to be tight and probably hurt like a bastard, but I can drag you through if you push some with your legs, okay? We’ll take it in stages.” The maneuver worked, Rashidi containing his obvious pain through clenched teeth as he was finally drawn inside. Taking a few seconds to recuperate, he breathed deep of the warmer air as David turned back around and looped the coiled rope over his shoulder. �ś What’s that ungodly stink , Professor?” �śBeats me. I was hoping maybe you knew.” Flashlight in hand, he led the way on his hands and knees, conscious not to get too far ahead of the struggling Rashidi. They crawled in this manner for an immeasurable period of time, the actual distance covered impossible to estimate. Nor did David have an overall sense of direction, for the natural passageway meandered like a snake, shifting first one way, then another, with no apparent end in sight. The temperature continued to climb, the air almost stifling. Sweat again stung his eyes. Too, his bruised knees and palms ached from the unyielding stone. The discomfort for Rashidi had to be even greater, for the younger man’s breathing was beginning to sound labored. A few yards ahead lay yet another sharp turn. He squinted. Was it his imagination, or did the crevice look larger there? He probed expectantly with the light as he rounded the corner, then abruptly stopped. �ś Damn!” �śWhat’s wrong?” David leaned against the crevice wall, letting Rashidi see for himself. Just when it appeared the narrow tunnel had finally begun to expand, their way was blocked. A single slab of stone had sheared free from the tapered ceiling and slid into the worst possible position. Wedged solid on its side, it sealed off almost the entire passageway. A slender child might stand a chance of squirming past�"but not a grown man. Rashidi stared at it, as if concentration alone might somehow make it disappear. �śThis just isn’t�"” He swallowed, his head now dropping. �śYou think there’s any way you can move it?” �śIf I can’t, Ahmed, we’re going to die right here.” He sighed. �śBack up a bit and give me some room.” David’s first effort to dislodge the stone was promising. The right side actually shifted, grating where it abutted the wall. His second attempt, however, produced no movement whatsoever, and he realized just how much his strength was depleted by the effects of heat and dehydration. The task was beyond his present ability, pure and simple. So now what? He sat back on his heels, studying the obstacle from every angle. The conclusion was inescapable. Without some major contribution from Rashidi, this stone wasn’t going anywhere! �śI’ll need your help,” he said finally. �śI can’t do it alone.” �śHow can I? There’s no room to even get my arm alongside�"” �śNot your arm. Your legs. Turn around and put your back up against mine.” Rashidi got the idea. It took him some moments of awkward adjustment, but once he got into position he bent his knees and planted his feet as best he could on each side the crevice. Braced thus, he said, �śWhenever you’re ready.” David took several deep breaths as he placed his hands back on the slab. �śWhen I tell you, push with your legs and lean into me,” he said. �śOkay, go. Give me everything you got!” It worked. Under this new assault, the stone began moving almost immediately, their combined strength accomplishing what neither could’ve done on his own. Encouraged by the renewed sound of stone grinding against stone, they pushed even harder, straining to overcome all resistance. Too hard! Suddenly there was no resistance�"and too late he felt the very floor beneath him break away. Caught riding the forward momentum of the dropping slab, he rolled into an unexpected black void. His landing came mercifully quick, the plunge no more than a couple feet. Dazed, yet otherwise unhurt, he sat up in the darkness. The cave floor beneath him was oddly spongy, the smell disgusting�"and he realized what it was by the high-pitched squeaks and agitated fluttering overhead. His fall had been cushioned by nothing less than uncounted centuries of accumulated bat droppings! �ś Professor�"?” �śI’m here, Ahmed.” A sigh of relief. �śYou all right?” �śYeah, looks like,” he said, getting to his feet. The cave wasn’t as totally black as he first thought. A faint light was entering from somewhere. Only logical, he reasoned. How else to explain to the bats? He turned, not yet able to distinguish Rashidi in the pervading dark. �śWhat about you?” �śI’m okay. The flashlight must’ve gone over with you. Is it broken?” David groped around until he found it, his eyes beginning to adjust to the dim light. The switch was still pushed forward, but what was left of the lens had fallen out. He felt inside for the bulb, wiggling it with his fingers. The beam came back on�"but this only set the colony of bats skittering all over again. Freshly disturbed, hundreds of the furry creatures careened wildly to escape, and he crouched down to avoid contact. Only when the frenzied cloud finally thinned, did he tackle the problem of getting Rashidi down from the crevice. He did this by standing atop the tumbled slab that now tilted up towards the opening. It was tricky, but he managed to bring him down no worse for the experience. �śRest against it for a minute,” he told him. �śThink you can walk on your own?” Rashidi nodded, almost gagging from the acrid smell. �śAnything to get away from this stink. How can you stand it?” �śTry breathing through your mouth instead of your nose.” He played the beam around to get a better feel of their surroundings. The ceiling was high with deep scars. Here and there, somnolent pockets of bats still clung stubbornly to the surface, their angular wings spread, their mouths agape. The cave was larger than he first guessed. To his left the weakened beam showed a clear run of at least forty feet, and doubtless more beyond the damaged flashlight’s reach. To his right was yet another passage, narrower and not as promising�"but near as he could tell, this was the general direction taken by the flight of bats. It made his decision easy. �śTake hold of my shoulder,” he said, after helping Rashidi stand. �śWe’ll try this way first.” It proved the correct choice. Only minutes into what became a minor labyrinth of twists and abrupt turns, they discovered the flashlight was no longer necessary. They could see to walk, the floor a steady upward climb. Encouraged, they plodded on with renewed energy. Soon gusts of hot air swirled into their faces, shafts of bright sunlight further ahead. A final shift to the right put them at the cave’s exit to the outside world. As David anticipated, the ragged opening was high up on the south-facing cliff of the limestone bluff. Just how high took his breath away. The straight drop below them was dizzying, at least a hundred and fifty feet, well beyond what any sane man would contemplate. If they went anywhere, it would have to be up. But was this even possible? He leaned cautiously outward to investigate. The only encouraging thing he saw was the position of the sun. When Oristano jumped them it was just a couple of hours past noon. Now he estimated the time to be no more than six o’clock. �śSee anything promising, Professor? How far to the top?” �śCan’t really tell. There’s a slight bulge blocking my view. If I had to guess, I’d say maybe eight to ten feet.” He sighed. �śBut how in hell we get up there, I haven’t the foggiest.” �śWhat about climbing down?” �śMaybe with a parachute. Other than that, forget it.” Despite his growing vertigo, David edged out a few inches more, his interest now caught by a horizontal projection of rock jutting out parallel with the cave’s mouth. It was narrower than he liked, no more than ten inches wide, yet looked sturdy enough to hold his weight. True, it went nowhere, but if he could somehow manage to hug the cliff face and step out on it�"say two or three feet to the left�"then it was feasible he might see up past the bulge. He couldn’t think of any alternative. He edged back in, explaining his plan to a skeptical Rashidi as he stripped the coil of rope from his shoulder. �śProfessor, I don’t thing this is such a good idea.” �śGot a better one?” �śWell, at least take some precautions. Tie the rope around your waist. I’ll take the other end and brace myself against�"” �śWouldn’t work, Ahmed. You’re in no condition to break anyone’s fall. Even with two good arms, you’d only be dragged off with me. We’ll do it my way.” Once in position, David steeled himself, wishing he could somehow concentrate on the tiny ledge without also seeing the yawning abyss below. The longer he looked at the lateral projection, the narrower it appeared. He fought off this unnerving illusion as he mentally rehearsed the move. No big deal, right? Just place one foot firmly in front of the other. The dusty, hot wind continued to gust and swirl. It wasn’t strong enough to dislodge him, he knew, but it was damn distracting. No more delays! Taking a last, deep calming breath, he swung out. Again came the sickening vertigo. But the ledge held, almost a miracle in itself. So far, so good, he told himself. The trick was in not looking down. Facing the cliff, arms extended wide, he slowly moved out even further, clinging to the featureless wall with his fingers. It helped immensely that the stone angled slightly inward as it rose, for this lessened the giddy sensation of balancing precariously on almost nothing. Believing himself now past the bulge, he tilted his head back and looked up. Yes! The craggy summit of the bluff was even closer than he hoped. No more than six or seven feet! But how was he to get up? There were certainly no useable handholds of any kind. Nothing! His elation ebbed. The top edge was predominately smooth, broken in a only few places by vertical clefts and vee-shaped inlets�"which ruled out using the rope. There was absolutely nothing there to lasso! And even if there was something, the rope wasn’t near long enough to�" Unless�" He looked up again, studying the nearest cleft where the descending folds of stone tapered and came together. The join was almost perfect for what he now had in mind. Just maybe he didn’t have to lasso anything! He retreated back until his hand reached the cave’s entrance. �śAhmed?” �śHere, Professor.” �śI’m going to try something. It’s probably our only chance�"and you’re going to have to help. You game?” �śAnything . . .” �śFirst, you’ve got to uncoil the rope. What you want is the end that’s already tied in a slip-noose.” David waited for this to be done; then asked, �śHow’s it look? Still secure?” �śSeems it to be, yes.” �śOkay, now this shouldn’t be too hard, even with only one good arm. Just hear me out before you start. What I need is for you to take the other end and start passing it through the open noose. Do it at least seven or eight times. What you’ll end up with is a large knot�"let’s say maybe twice the size of your fist, or even bigger. Understand what I’m saying?” �śThe shape of a ball, right?” �śYou got it.” The task occupied Rashidi for a short period. Finally, he held it out for David’s inspection. �śIs this what you need?” �śThe size looks about right, but you’ve got to draw the knot up a lot tighter. Put it between your boots and reef back on the rope.” Rashidi did so; then showed it again. �śHow’s this?” �śGood. Now loosely coil it again and pass me the whole thing.” Rope in hand, David moved back into position. David’s first five attempts to finagle the knot up into the cleft came to nothing, and he told himself they were more practice than earnest attempts. The swirling wind, plus his awkward stance, combined to make the maneuver extremely difficult. But there was reason for hope; his last throw came very close, encouraging him to believe he was getting a handle on this as he readied for another toss. Again the wind gusted. Timing seemed to be the most critical factor. The rope must be looped up at the precise moment the wind began to fall off. Now! This time he hit the mark. The ball flicked up perfectly and dropped out of sight into the narrow cleft. The excess fell back, coming taut in his hand. The knot was now wedged between the tapered folds of stone�"but how secure remained to be seen. He gave a series of short tugs, feeling no noticeable give. Would it hold his full weight? Short of actually climbing, there was no real way of knowing�"and once started, his commitment would be total. �śHere goes,” he said. �śIf it holds and I make it, I’ll make up another noose and pass it down for you. If it doesn’t hold�"” �śIt will , Professor. You’ve come too far to fail now.” The knot held. Hand over hand, David scaled the cliff face, and such was his adrenalin level that he scarcely felt the accumulated aches and pains in his strained limbs. On reaching the top, he hooked his battered elbows over the stone fold and hoisted himself into the protective cleft. Only then did he acknowledge the full pounding of his accelerated heart rate�"and out of pure necessity, he lay back in the shallow pocket of stone, gasping for breath as it slowly abated. It was nothing to him that his thigh was again bleeding or his hands felt like raw meat, for his elation was total. He’d actually made it! The flat summit was directly behind him, an easy scramble of less than a few feet. But his euphoria was fleeting, for the position of the sun now reminded him there was no time for self-congratulation. Elizabeth! He reconfigured the rope, creating another slip-noose to fit around Rashidi’s chest. Despite his bruised limbs and aching hands, he didn’t doubt for a second his ability to haul the younger man up. Instead, his thoughts were already on the far greater challenge lying ahead. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Fear of being seen dictated David’s caution as he steered well clear of the basin’s north rim, maneuvering himself around and into position. It was still early twilight, nowhere near dark enough to conceal his movements. Thus the danger was acute, for with his own eyes he glimpsed Oristano walking a regular patrol, armed with both a pistol and rifle. But the risk had to be taken. Not only was Elizabeth still alive�" thank God!�" but as best he could determine, she appeared relatively unharmed. Unfortunately, this couldn’t be said regarding Gobeir, for the muted cries of pain emanating from below were telling of the old man’s long afternoon of agony. David’s earlier reconnaissance had revealed other things, as well, none of which held much promise for his present attempt at affecting a rescue. For openers, all of their firearms were gathered for safekeeping beside the confiscated campsite. Too, the jeep was now virtually unreachable; though it was still parked topside, either Oristano or his oversized henchman had moved it to within mere feet of the basin’s lip. There was now no way in hell he could get anywhere near it without being seen. And even if he could�"to what end? Oristano wasn’t a fool. He would’ve removed the key, or otherwise disabled the vehicle during his search for weapons. All of this left David limited options when formulating his plan. He crouched as he ran, trying to generate minimum noise. The shallow draw snaking between the low hills made for good cover, but didn’t lend itself to speed. Being invisible, he knew, was meaningless without silence. He stopped to get his bearings, unsure he was where he needed to be. The late afternoon sun had earlier burned like a torch across his bare arms and torso, only increasing his sense of nausea. The plan they worked out would rely as much on luck as anything within their power to control. A battered Rashidi could play to part in its execution. Dehydration, he knew, was effecting his judgement�"and definitely distorting his perceptions! Was it this hill he sought, or the next one over? Damn if they didn’t all look the same from this side! The first critical phase of his plan called for him to emerge just opposite�" There! The one with the reddish crest! He climbed with great care; conscious any mistake made now would prove fatal. Up here the stones less stable, he realized, much easier to dislodge. The last thing he needed was to start a minor rockslide. Raising his head in small increments, he peered over the top. A faint sigh of relief escaped his parched lips, for he was precisely where he hoped. The GAZ-69 was directly below and facing his way, the cab slightly askew to his position. But had he been seen? It appeared not. Oristano was visible off to the right, still facing the other way. David felt a small surge of confidence. God knew the plan he had fashioned was ridiculously crude�"one created out of sheer desperation�"yet damned if it didn’t stand a chance of working! * * * Standing roughly seventy feet away, Oristano lit another cigarette as he again scanned the basin’s rocky perimeter. By his watch it was already twenty minutes past seven, the darkening sky promising some relief from the day’s intense heat. His patience with Heikal was beginning to wear thin. In his opinion, this business was taking far too long. Under normal conditions, he considered himself a moderately tolerant man; if his many years operating outside the fringes of civilized law had taught him anything, it was the necessity of maintaining his equanimity. But these were hardly normal conditions�"and things were definitely not going well! How quickly he’d come to hate this place. With another circuit of the basin complete, he turned and headed back towards the now shadowed base of the bluff. Time to again check on Heikal’s progress. As he walked, he shifted the rifle strap from his left shoulder to the right, annoyed by the weapon’s cumbersome weight, yet unwilling to be without it. There was no doubt in Oristano’s mind as to whom the fourth ambusher at the pass had tried so desperately to warn. It would take a truly strong leader, he knew, to inspire such singular loyalty and personal sacrifice�"and Gobeir was proving himself to be just such a man. Over three hours under the knife, and still nothing! It was really quite remarkable. Now the old man’s screams of agony no longer held the sweet promise of imminent riches. Instead, his repetitious cries were fast becoming little more than a mocking irritant to his ears. A curse on his stubborn soul! The tomb is here! It has to be! The pitiful noise grew as he approached. Heikal had chosen to exercise his particular skill just outside the high fold of stone surrounding the spring-fed pool. Here the shade was deepest, the still air marginally cooler due to the proximity of water�"though neither benefited his hapless victim in the least. Gobeir lay flat on his back, straddled and held by the big man’s weight. This was unnecessary, Oristano knew, for an initial cut made by Heikal had effectively removed even the remotest chance of escape; the tendons behind Gobeir’s right knee were completely severed, the mark of an experienced professional, done more for convenience rather than the infliction of pain. Not so all the horrific cuts that followed. Oristano silently watched over Heikal’s broad shoulder, impressed by the amount of physical abuse the stoic old fellow had so far endured. His left hand was already bereft of fingers, rendered little more than a bloody stump. This alone was an impressive testament to his inner strength and resolve. Yet it was inevitable he must eventually crack, for the effect of continuous torture was always cumulative and not to be denied. Heikal’s present focus of concentration was the patient dismantling of Gobeir’s face, his razor-sharp blade surgically probing the rich field of nerves buried deep within the quivering cheeks. There were some people, Oristano knew, who believed anyone who derived pleasure from the pain of others made for poor interrogators. It simply wasn’t true. Heikal’s expertise in extracting information was never hindered by his obvious enthusiasm for the process. If anything, it only enhanced his skill. And there was growing evidence to support this, for Gobeir was now beginning to babble between shrieks of pain. Oristano took this as an encouraging sign. Clearly the old man’s grasp on reality was faltering, his admirable control ebbing with each passing minute. Heikal was finally getting close. Just a little more time? Believing this to be cause for optimism, Oristano walked over to the pool to refresh himself. While doing so, he glanced again at the girl tied-off at the back of Manning’s truck, thinking some sport of a more pleasurable nature might be in order. And why not? He slipped the rifle from his shoulder and leaned it against the vertical stone, then knelt at the water’s edge, scooping cool handfuls over his face. He accepted that she must soon be eliminated, but there was certainly no rush. He had time to fill. Availing himself of the girl would provide a well-deserved break. She was conscious, he saw, and probably had been for some time. And, likely as not, panic-stricken, as well, for the old man’s plaintive cries couldn’t have escaped her attention. He smiled as he thought on this, knowing a healthy fear of suffering a similar fate might be strong inducement for her to accommodate his needs. This mental image of her expected vulnerability only deepened his smile, for he felt no moral constraints whatsoever about deceiving and using the girl. It was always his firm belief that hesitation and misplaced scruples were the shackles of lesser men. * * * Minutes earlier, David had watched when Oristano walked back towards the bluff, preparing himself to initiate the second phase of his plan. The natural alcove of the pool was almost directly opposite the GAZ-69, which put the crest of his hill pretty much out of view. He readied himself, gauging the precise moment to best make his move. When it came, he scrambled over the top, using a pre-selected slope of drifted sand to mask his sliding descent. And it seemed to work; the sound was negligible, almost nonexistent. Hitting the bottom, he got to his feet and dashed the remaining yards to the truck in a semi-crouch. He knew the canvas covering behind the cab wasn’t lashed to the frame for he’d untied the cords himself when Rashidi first parked the vehicle. Back then the reason was simply to give Elizabeth easier access to the camping supplies. Now it was critical to saving her life. Head down, shoulders hunched, he stepped up onto the cab’s running board. The metal creaked under his weight, the truck tilting slightly towards him. He froze, cursing himself for not anticipating something so obvious. Did it catch anyone’s attention? He waited. Nothing! Grateful, he slipped under the canvas and hoisted himself inside. Elizabeth was partially obscured by the two hanging end-flaps. Gagged with one of her own kerchiefs, her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, the same rope secured to the metal tubing supporting the truck’s patchwork covering. Half sitting, half standing, her position looked anything but comfortable. He gave a cursory look around for their eating utensils, but found nothing; doubtless they, along with the knives, were still over at the campsite. Damn! Aware of a presence behind her, Elizabeth tried turning her head to see. �ś Don’t move,” he whispered, his face close to the thin material separating them. �śIt’s me, darling. David�"” A whimpering groan of recognition. �ś Shhhh,” he cautioned. �śKeep looking straight ahead.” Her hands were visible beneath the flap, her palms and fingers tinged blue by restricted circulation. �śI’m going to untie the rope�"but not entirely. Not quite yet. You’ll be free of the truck, but I’m going to hold you in place for a little while longer. If you understand, tilt your head forward�"but do it very, very slowly, okay?” She did so. �ś Good. Now listen to me carefully . . .” David explained in hushed tones exactly what he expected of her as he untied her wrists. Knowing her weakened condition, he used the fewest words possible to ensure her complete comprehension. Since there was no margin for error, he repeated himself; then asked, �śHave you got it all straight?” Another nod, equally slow and measured. �ś Then wait on my word. I’ll say when to begin. Just remember what I said. Nothing overly dramatic. We want him mildly curious, nothing more.” Satisfied that she understood her role, he put his eye to a minor tear in the side canvas. Through it he could just make out Oristano kneeling at the pool’s edge. Phase three would start when he stood up. One way or another, he must be enticed over to the rear of the truck. Even without a weapon, David didn’t doubt his ability to kill Oristano. If he could just get him close, his bare hands would suffice. All he wanted was one clean shot at his throat! But could he do it quickly enough? The problem was going to be Oristano’s huge henchman. As he’d discussed with Rashidi, this was the true proverbial fly in the ointment. His night encounter in Matruh demonstrated just how fast the big man could move. Too, there was his incredible strength. Cold logic said nothing short of a bullet would take him down�"and there lay the single, glaring flaw in the plan. Though the man was now preoccupied with Gobeir, he was also within easy lunging distance of the gathered firearms. Even if he took out Oristano quickly and got his pistol, what were the actual odds of turning it on this bastard before the lunge was made? Fifty-fifty was probably being overly optimistic. One chance in three was probably more likely. Too late for further speculation! Oristano was now back up on his feet. �śDo it,” he whispered. �śHe’s looking this way.” Elizabeth responded on cue, projecting a weak and prolonged moan that couldn’t go unheard. Complimenting her performance, she arched her back, moving her head from side to side. The overall impression was of someone beginning to writhe in distress�"and damn if Oristano wasn’t taking the bait! The smirking sonofabitch was now heading towards her. Even better, his arms were loose at his sides, his pistol still holstered. Just another thirty feet more and�" Christ Almighty! David could scarcely fathom what he was seeing. Movement had pulled his eyes upward. Now he stared at the top of the bluff in stunned disbelief, watching as a figure crawled forward to the edge. What the hell did Rashidi think he was doing? The damn fool was going to ruin everything! Oristano continued walking towards Elizabeth, as yet unaware of what was transpiring behind him. But for how long? If Sal heard so much as the least sound�"or even happened to glance back�"it would all be over. Rashidi must be insane! Or was he? David suddenly understood. In a way, it actually made sense. Not good sense, to be sure, but sense nevertheless. Rashidi also understood the inherent problem in their plan, and was now attempting to resolve it by using the only weapon at his disposal�"his own body! It was intending to throw himself down onto the big man at the precise moment David made his move on Oristano, hoping to buy those additional seconds so desperately needed. But his timing would have to be spot on! David found himself holding his breath as Oristano came closer. A last look up showed Rashidi now struggling to his feet, weaving awkwardly as he positioned himself to jump. God, don’t let him stumble! Of necessity, he concentrated his full attention back on Oristano. He was now less than twelve feet away, clearly visible through the narrow join of the end-flaps. Just ten feet. Now eight. David tensed, preparing to launch himself outward. Only a few more steps were needed. But it wasn’t to be. A clatter of falling pebbles proclaimed Rashidi’s failure�"and in this split second David saw his chance to go for Sal’s throat irretrievably lost. Alerted to danger, Oristano had already wheeled around, drawing the pistol from his holster in one smooth motion and taking aim. �ś Above you, Sabir!” The shouted warning was cut short as David dove into him from behind, Oristano’s aim spoiled as much by the jarring impact as the outstretched hands that simultaneously clamped over his wrist. Locked together, they rolled across the ground, the weapon discharging three times in rapid succession as both men fought for control. One of the errant bullets came within inches of Elizabeth as she frantically tore off the gag with her freed hands. Still following David’s instructions, she crawled to the far side of the truck for protection. Though David’s primary concern was the gun, he wasn’t unaware of the short-bladed knife under his opponent’s belt. Luckily, it never came into play. While they were tumbling, Oristano tried to extract it, only to have it jostled out of his grasp. The final roll left David on top. Using this advantage, he drove his knee into the side of Oristano’s chest, his reward a satisfying gasp of real pain. But the gun wasn’t released. Either Oristano was much stronger than he appeared, David thought, or he was himself more debilitated than previously realized. The truth of it didn’t matter, for a quick glance to his left told him if he didn’t gain possession of it immediately, Rashidi was a dead man! His peripheral vision had already given him the bare bones of what took place. Though Rashidi lost the element of surprise, his dramatic leap yet managed to distract the formidable figure away from the stacked weapons. But at a disastrous price! Warned by Oristano, the big man had stood up to meet the attack, deflecting the brunt of the impact with a powerful swipe of his arm. As a result, Rashidi now lay sprawled face down on the sand, whether dead or unconscious, David couldn’t tell�"and nor could the one called Sabir. Arm raised, he was about to plunge his dagger into the limp figure at his feet. David slammed his elbow hard into Oristano’s face, jamming his own finger into the suddenly vacated trigger. Despite the fact that a shaken Oristano still clung tenaciously to the handle, he forcibly aimed the pistol and squeezed off a shot. Yes! Rashidi’s would-be executioner lurched sideways with surprised pain, and a point just inches below his hip rapidly bloomed into a sizable dark smear. The bullet had struck lower than David intended, yet served its purpose, for the enraged man immediately spun around to face this new threat. By his expression, he looked half crazed, momentarily undecided as to just what his next move should be. David made the decision for him�"firing off two more quick rounds. Unfortunately, neither struck home. Oristano’s strength was returning, his hand fouling all attempts at accuracy. Though the shots did force a reluctant retreat from the nearby weapons, they effectively created another danger. Damn if the bastard wasn’t now limping towards the only cover now available to him�"the far side of the truck! Elizabeth was back there! David saw the hobbling man closing fast on the vehicle. Seconds more and he’d be out of sight. Knowing it was now or never, he planted his boot on Oristano’s chest and pulled for all he was worth, wrenching the gun free. He then pivoted around and took aim. This time he wouldn’t miss! The first shot struck squarely in the big man’s side, entering his barrel chest just to the front of his thick arm. Staggered by the hit, he yet lumbered forward, lunging towards the cab’s fender in a determined effort to remain upright. And well he might have but for the gory impact of David’s next shot. Directed even higher, the bullet ripped through his clenched jaw, snapping his head around with such force that an arcing spray of blood spewed from his mouth. Like a felled bull, he then crashed to the ground and lay still. David’s elation was fleeting. Detecting movement to his right, he swung the pistol around, freezing Oristano in his tracks even as the man crouched to spring. In his hand was the knife he’d retrieved from the sand. �ś Drop it, Sal!” Oristano glared at him, then gave a slow shake of his head. �ś No, I think not, Manning.” �ś Do it, dammit, or I’ll�"” �ś Or what? You’ll kill me?” He smiled, edging backwards, his thoughts obviously on the firearms lying thirty feet behind him. �śMaybe I’ll just take my chances. You been counting your shots? That clip holds eight. At best, I figure there’s only one left.” �ś Then let’s end the suspense,” said David, aiming straight into his chest. �śIt only takes one, doesn’t it?” Oristano swallowed, then glanced briefly at the truck. Curiously enough, his smile now grew. �śReally? Maybe you should take another look.” David shifted his eyes. It can’t be! Oristano’s henchman was struggling back to his feet. Worse, Elizabeth was now standing less than a dozen paces further out, frozen, appearing transfixed by the spectacle of a hulking, blood-soaked corpse who refused to stay dead. �ś Not so simple anymore, is it, Manning?” Oristano was grinning as he edged backwards again, watching David’s eyes and playing for time. �śIs it to be me, or him? He’s a killing machine, Manning�"and he will kill her, I assure you!” The Beretta didn’t waiver in David’s hand. Despite this attempt to manipulate his emotions, he knew precisely where the greater danger lay. Without hesitation, he drew a bead on the front of Oristano’s sweat streaked shirt, and pulled the trigger. The only sound was a hollow click. David blinked, recognizing the sound of defeat. Oristano had guessed even better than he knew. The chamber was empty, the clip depleted. Now reprieved, Oristano spun and made a headlong dash for the stacked weapons. David charged in pursuit. Over his shoulder, he shouted, �śRun, Elizabeth! For God’s sake, run!” CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE It took David’s screamed admonition to finally jar Elizabeth out of her trance-like state. She understood her peril, but the combined effects of confusion, hysteria�"and sheer horror�"had so traumatized her that she felt unable to move or act of her own free will. Now the spell was broken. She began by backing warily away from the resurrected giant, still utterly amazed anyone so bloodily disfigured was even on his feet. Was this long nightmare to never end? Unbelievably, it seemed not! Each breath the man took made a wet, rattling noise deep in his lungs as he plodded towards her. From what hellish reservoir, she wondered, did this creature draw such incredible strength? His lower face was a hideous mask of pulpy crimson, the staring, slate-colored eyes that of a demented monster�"and strangely the latter was somehow even more terrifying to her than the stained dagger now raised in his hand. When he finally made his lunge, it was too late. Elizabeth was already several steps ahead and running hard. * * * For the second time in mere minutes, David crashed into Oristano from behind. Now, however, the effect of the collision was the culmination of a pounding run to overtake him before the weapons were reached. To this end, he succeeded. But just barely. Oristano’s out-thrust hand was only inches from his goal when the impact drove him full off his feet. Carried forward by the momentum of David’s flying tackle, both men jackknifed into the alcove of the recessed pool, their landing cushioned in an eruption of water. Though badly shaken, Oristano didn’t relinquish his tight hold on the short-bladed knife. Nor did he lose his instinct for survival. Breaking surface, he wrenched free of David’s hold, stabbing wildly about him as he gasped to regain his breath. David didn’t give him the chance. The physical limitations of his own weakened state dictated he take swift advantage of any equalizing opportunity�"and he knew but one way. Submerging himself away from the slashing knife, he seized onto the other man’s belt and pulled down. The tactic worked. Caught unprepared, Oristano had no opportunity to fill his lungs as he was dragged under. Visibility was poor beneath the murky water, yet adequate for David’s purpose. Locating Oristano’s right arm, he seized hold of the wrist and twisted with all the force of his body. They were both sinking ever lower, he knew, yet the risk proved worthwhile. The blade finally came free, pirouetting down into the black depths below. But his gain was short-lived. As Oristano then broke loose and swam frantically upwards, the point of his boot kicked flush into David’s windpipe. His throat immediately convulsed and he expelled precious air in a burst of rising bubbles. Worse still, the boot remained atop his shoulder, holding him down. His faculties were slipping, the need for oxygen now an expanding pain at his temples. It can’t end this way! Lungs aching, he made a desperate grab, catching hold of Oristano’s ankle before he could reach the surface. Again he pulled down, drawing him back with the last of his strength. If he was going to drown, then it damn well wasn’t going to be alone! Denied air, Oristano reacted in a frenzy of flailing arms and legs�"yet David clung to him tenaciously. Thus locked in deadly embrace, they spun and tumbled for what seemed an eternity, the faint light now so diminished as to confuse up from down. In reality, it was but seconds, for neither man retained the energy to long sustain the struggle. The mutual thrashing slowly eased, the vehemence of their hatred now blurred by encroaching oblivion. It was David who finally let go. For some inexplicable reason, he found himself pressed up against a ceiling of unyielding stone. The how and why of this, he couldn’t comprehend. He only knew the enveloping darkness appeared somewhat less threatening ahead, and he moved in this direction until the smooth stone began curving away from his numbed fingers. Now he felt the distinct sensation of rising. There was a definite soft glimmering above�"and it could only be one thing! As a dazed man struggles up from the depths of a horrific dream, he swam up towards the light. * * * For Elizabeth, the nightmare continued unabated. Too late, she realized the lumbering giant had purposely maneuvered her into the narrowest confines of the small, natural amphitheater. Even half dead, the man was diabolically clever, his intention now obvious. Like herding an animal to slaughter! She knew the fault was entirely hers. Being much faster, she could’ve easily outdistanced her badly wounded pursuer in any other chosen direction were she thinking more clearly. Now this advantage was lost! His clever stratagem had worked. Not only was she boxed in, but damn if the cunning bastard hadn’t steered her towards the very steepest section of the shale-strewn slope! How could I have been so stupid? Left with no other option, she spun and began scrambling upward. The incline was daunting, she saw, but not unmakeable. Behind her, she heard the man rushing in with renewed energy, doubtless believing it was all but over. The hell it was! High overhead was the darkening silhouette of the parked jeep, and she silently prayed the keys were still inside. The probability of this was slim. Unless she won this race, it was all meaningless�"and by the rasping sound of the man’s labored breathing, he was closer now than at any time before. A quick look back, however, gave her reason for hope. Unless her eyes deceived, she was actually holding her own. For all his superior strength, he was really no better at this than she! So maybe this isn’t such a trap after all! If she could just beat him to the top�"even if only by seconds�"then keys, or no keys, it would again be her legs against his on level ground. Despite her aching hands and arms, this heady prospect of salvation spurred her to ascend even faster. Clawing, straining, she pulled herself up and around the many jagged stones. She must make it! Nothing mattered but attaining the upper plateau! But desperation made her less cautious. With her goal less than half a body length away, she made the mistake of trying to stand too soon, and the unstable conglomerate of sand, gravel, and broken shale gave way beneath her. Unable to halt what gravity began, she suddenly found herself caught in a downward slide. No! she thought in panic. This can’t be happening! She came to an abrupt stop, her knee slamming hard against a flat slab of stone. Only a few inches more, she realized, and she would’ve been within range of the man’s clutches. Nevertheless, the grim giant saw an opportunity. Extending his arm, he made a stabbing attempt to impale her foot. She instinctively jerked away from the descending knife, but not sufficiently fast enough to prevent the blade from partially embedding the sole of her boot. By thrashing her leg, she somehow managed to free it, then kicked down on the stone as hard as she could. An excruciating pain immediately radiated up from her ankle�"yet the damage wasn’t for naught. Jarred off its underpinnings, the slab tilted back onto the unprepared man, shoving him down into a long slide of his own. How far down, she didn’t wait to see. She began climbing again, now blinking back tears of frustration. Escape seemed determined to elude her, for she heard the bastard continue his relentless pursuit. The throbbing ache inside her boot worsened. Even if no bones were broken, her ankle was at the very least severely sprained. Outrunning this maniac was no longer an option! The jeep was now her only hope. Please, please, God�"let the keys be there! Elizabeth regained the top, careful not to repeat the same mistake as she elbowed her way onto the crumbly lip. The vehicle was parked parallel to the basin’s edge, no more than three feet in front of her. Crawling to it on hands and knees, she reached up and opened the driver’s door�"then felt her heart sink in despair. There was nothing in the ignition! I’m going to die! This realization registered on her brain like a jolt of electricity. The man was frighteningly near, the gurgling sound of his breathing that of a crazed animal choking on its own blood. How can he even be alive? Unless she did something this very instant, it was all over for her! But what? The icy fingers of panic tightened, but she refused to succumb. No! I won’t be taken this easily! Now it was more rage than fear that coursed through her veins. This bastard must be stopped! Somehow�"someway�"she must deny him his�" Then she saw it. The means was right in front of her. Pulling the flare gun out from under the seat, she fumbled briefly with the side release mechanism until the stubby barrel broke; then loaded one of the four cylindrical casings lying loose on the floor. So badly did her hands shake that it took both thumbs to draw back the metal hammer. Now armed with the closest thing approaching a real weapon available to her, she turned and sat with her back braced against the jeep’s frame, holding the gun between her spread knees. The waiting was almost unendurable. Every fiber of her body screamed for her to flee. Only seconds more and he’d be on her. She would only have one chance at this! Everything depended on her ability to aim and fire this point-blank into his face. Can I do it? The expectation of looking once again into those demented eyes made her hands tremble all the more . But there was no other way! This isn’t a man, she kept telling herself. It’s an insane, mindless beast�"one already more dead than alive! And this was nearer the truth than she knew. Below Elizabeth’s line of vision, Heikal crawled inexorably upward, his limbs functioning with a mechanical efficiency outside all reason. Mortally wounded, he was no longer capable of rational thought, for that governing part of his brain had now shut down. What remained was little more than a primitive core of sick fantasy. It was this alone driving him. He no longer felt pain; only a growing rapture. In his delirium he was transported back in time, granted a last chance to destroy his long-tormenting devil. He saw it all so clearly. The blood on his hands belonged to the young foreigner lying dead in the dark alley below. Now he must use his knife one more time if his honor was to be finally cleansed! And the vivid illusion only grew as he approached the top. This was no rocky slope, but instead the never forgotten flight of stairs from his distant youth. Above were the small rooms shared with his sister, the deceitful Nayra�"and there he would find the great whore, reclining with her fair thighs open, shamelessly waiting to embrace her foreign dog of a lover. This time she wouldn’t escape his blade! His fantasy held as he heaved himself up and over. In his mad exultation, the terrified girl before him was indeed Nayra, appearing exactly as he remembered. Beyond this, he saw nothing; not the slim arms extended towards him�"and definitely not the wide barrel pointed straight into his face. Wrists locked, Elizabeth squeezed the trigger. For Heikal, the final release of torment came in a brilliant flash of white, one that exploded him backwards into what seemed an all-encompassing void. The searing pain of it was ephemeral, as briefly felt and forgotten as his last memory of existence itself. * * * Barely conscious, David heard the echoing report as he fought to regain his faculties at the pool’s edge. The palpable urgency of it brought his senses back into focus�"and he now realized he’d been lying for some time with only his arms and chest atop the surrounding shelf. Just how long, he couldn’t judge. He shook his head as he crawled from the water, trying to clear the cobwebs. He distinctly remembered screaming for Elizabeth to run. If the man caught her�" He couldn’t bring himself to think it. With effort, he got to his feet and staggered back out into the basin. Thankfully, he found his fears were unfounded. To his immense relief, he saw her sitting alongside the parked jeep on the upper rim. Near as he could tell in the last light of sunset, she was sobbing, but definitely alive and safe. On the basin floor beneath her was Oristano’s henchman, sprawled motionless on the rocks, clearly no longer a threat to her or anyone. Rashidi was also alive, only now beginning to awake. Groaning in pain, he still lay on the sand, attempting without success to roll onto his back. Like Elizabeth, he required immediate attention. This left only poor�" Wait a second! David stopped and spun around, staring back at the alcove. In his frantic concern for Elizabeth, he’d somehow failed to notice a huge discrepancy. Lewis was nowhere in sight. At some point during all of this mayhem, the old man had flat out disappeared! It made no sense. Where could he have�"? Suddenly, it all clicked. �ś Of course,” he whispered aloud. The perfect logic of it all fairly took his breath away. There was only one place Lewis could’ve possibly gone�"and damn if wasn’t right there all the time! * * * �ś So what’s it to be, Ahmed? Are you going to tell her, or do you want me to do it?” While waiting for an answer, David fit Rashidi’s crippled arm back into the makeshift sling. The younger man grimaced in pain as he sat against the base of the bluff, but appeared far more human now that Elizabeth had washed the dried blood off his face, treating the deep cuts with antiseptic. Almost a half hour had elapsed, and now David felt it was time to bring the final secret out into the open. �ś It’s the pool, isn’t it?” he pressed. �śLewis crawled over to it right after you dropped on the big man. I was so busy wrestling Oristano for the gun that I missed it completely. That’s the tomb’s entrance.” Listening to this, Elizabeth remained silent. �ś That’s correct, Professor,” said Rashidi. �śI’m sure even if Dr. Gobeir hadn’t shown you the way, it was only inevitable you would’ve figured it out�"not unlike Lionel did when he came here all those many years ago. To his credit, however, he put it all together entirely on his own. How he managed to do so remains a mystery. I guess we’ll never know. Simple luck, do you think?” David saw it different. In his opinion, mere chance was far too pat an answer to account for that remarkable achievement. �ś I can’t agree with this,” he said. �śRemember, Lionel had several years to pick Cameron’s brain regarding all the various traditions surrounding the worship of Amun. If he was convinced they were responsible, then the special religious significance put on ritual immersion in water wouldn’t have escaped his attention. He surely knew, for example, that in the Oracle’s temple at Siwah anyone who wished to enter the god’s holy sanctuary must first be purified in the Fountain of the Sun.” �ś From this alone he figured it out?” �ś Not by itself, no. I think that’s where his deductive genius came into play. If he factored in other pieces of historical information, then it wasn’t a big leap to conclude Alexander’s mortal remains were never meant to be sealed away and forgotten. For close to four centuries the Soma was a place of worship, the sarcophagus there for all to see and revere. So why would this change? I think Lionel surmised that Alexander’s present tomb, by design, would likewise be accessible to a select group. And if true, what more appropriate entrance could there be but another pool? Not only does it effectively mask the tomb’s presence, but the rituals of purification would automatically be observed by anyone entering to pay homage. His only mistake�"and a fatal one�"was his theory never allowed for the possibility that a last remnant of your priesthood still existed.” Rashidi was visibly impressed. �ś I can’t argue with the logic,” he said. �śIn truth, it explains the quickness with which he located the tomb and then departed this valley.” He paused, his eyes shifting to Elizabeth, then back to David. �śAnd speaking of departures, Professor, there’s something I must tell you. The longer you remain here, the more possible danger for the both of you. So much time has passed, I’m afraid it may already be too late to�"” �ś If you’re referring to Wassef’s imminent arrival, I already know. I fully expect him to show up any time now.” �ś You knew about this?” �ś Only a reasonable assumption. Lewis ran too tight a ship for it to be otherwise. As good as those men at the valley’s entrance may have been, I’m sure he instructed Wassef to have a back-up contingency in place. Probably through radio check-in times and the like.” The younger man nodded appreciatively, watching as David picked up one of the Enfield revolvers. �śYou deduced this, yet didn’t say anything. Why?” �ś Because I wanted to hear it from you, Ahmed. Either you were going to warn us, or you weren’t. If Wassef and others come in shooting, I needed to know where you stand in all this.” �ś Your way of testing me?” �ś You could say that, yes.” He checked the guns cylinder for bullets; then took hold of Rashidi’s good arm, helping him stand. �śThere’s still a job left to do before they get here. We’re not the only ones running out of time. After the horror he’s been through, Lewis is probably half out of his mind by now. One way or another, we’ll have to bring him out�"which means you’ve got to lead us inside.” * * * It took no great effort to traverse the underwater passage. The submerged opening lay less than five feet beneath the spring’s surface, an undercut ledge going straight back into the limestone escarpment. When the three surfaced, however, it was to a pocket of air so black and deathly silent that David was disorientated. �śElizabeth? Where are�"” �ś I’m here.” She clutched at his arm as she treaded water beside him, breathing deep to refill her lungs. �śI can’t see anything.” �ś It’s all right,” Rashidi assured them. He sounded close, but was invisible in the inky dark. �śIt’s a bit unnerving, I know, but give your eyes a minute to adjust. In the meantime, move towards my voice.” They did so. �ś Only a little further. Can you feel it underfoot yet?” David’s boots came down on something flat and solid. He drew Elizabeth to him, supporting her until she, too, got her footing. As they moved forward, he quickly got the idea of what was beneath them. �śIt feels like shallow steps.” �ś They were chiseled out almost two millennia ago as a prelude to cutting the connecting passageway into the spring. It was the latter, of course, which then flooded this chamber. The water in here is now the same level as the natural spring on the other side.” �ś Ingenious.” �ś And slippery, so be careful climbing out.” David’s sense of his surroundings had marginally improved. The single source of light was just the dull glow filtering up from the water, and this too weak to distinguish much of anything as he helped her up unto dry stone. Though her ankle was considerably stronger since he’d bound it with tape, she still walked with difficulty. He eased her into a sitting position, wondering why Rashidi had insisted no flashlight was necessary. As if answering this unspoken question, Rashidi said, �śWe’ll have more than enough light momentarily. We’re standing in a rather narrow area. Come towards me and put your hand up against the wall.” David did so. �śNow what?” �ś About shoulder high is a recess cut back into the stone.” �ś Got it.” �ś Reach inside and you’ll find several kerosene lanterns. They lift from the top by wire handles. All are filled, so take out the first two you find and�"” He coughed heavily, then cleared his throat. �śHave�"have you ever lit one of these before?” �ś Not since I was a kid. Are you all right?” �ś I’ll manage, Professor,” he replied, easing himself to his knees beside Elizabeth. By the effort it took, he was clearly in considerable pain. �śSet them here in front of me.” �ś We’ll need matches.” �ś There’s a covered jar there, as well. Inside is the old-fashioned stick kind.” David retrieved several, then crouched and ignited one on dry stone. The lanterns were antiques, the centers accessible through thin glass panes. Getting both going, he trimmed back on the wicks, settling them down to a steady, hissing glow. He set one aside. He then looked closely at Rashidi, noting the weary strain on his tightly drawn face. Even allowing for the yellowish tinge of the lantern’s light, the younger man’s color looked terrible. Of even more concern, there were flecks of pinkish foam at the corners of his mouth. �ś You’re coughing up blood, Ahmed.” Rashidi wiped at his lips. �śIt’s my ribs. I fear a few may have been cracked or broken when the big man hit me.” �ś Why didn’t you say so outside? We could’ve done this different.” �ś Until now, I wasn’t sure, myself. This took more out of me than I anticipated.” He attempted a weak smile. �śBesides, you needed me to show the way, did you not?” This left David only one practical course of action. Despite Rashidi’s fortitude, he couldn’t allow his serious condition to be further aggravated. �ś Elizabeth, you’re going to have stay here with him. This might change once I locate Lewis, but that will depend on his condition and how far he got.” He had another reason for wanting her to stay, but this he kept to himself; so far it was only a vague notion, an uneasy feeling not yet compelling enough to frighten her needlessly. She nodded her understanding. David raised his lantern, stepping over to a dark opening. Like the rest of this chamber, it was rough hewn out of solid stone. Except for going back into the water, there was no other way to go. �śSo what’s the layout back there, Ahmed? Any clever pitfalls or traps to watch out for?” Rashidi shook his head. �śNothing of the kind, Professor. This passage is the single way in to the main chamber. It circles around some at first; then eventually straightens out as you approach the tomb annex. It’s really not all that far.” David drew his revolver. �śAnd what about firearms?” he asked. �śIs there anything stored back in there for emergencies?” �ś Absolutely not. No matter what Dr. Gobeir’s state of mind, I can’t see him posing any physical threat.” �ś I hope you’re right.” Truthfully, it wasn’t Lewis so much that worried him. There was something about the configuration beneath the spring that just seemed too damn familiar. He now looked again at Elizabeth, saying, �śI’ll try and make this as quick as possible. You going to be okay?” �ś Just promise me you’ll be careful.” �ś Count on it.” CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX David held the lantern high while heading in, finding the size and configuration of the tunnel’s black interior pretty much identical to the opening. It was arch-shaped, the ceiling barely inches above his head, the sculpted floor flat and free of debris. There was no doubt Lewis had crawled through here, for the grim evidence was unmistakable; not only was the floor still wet, but the trail was further delineated by intermittent smears of fresh blood. So much so, in fact, he now considered the possibility that perhaps the old man might already be dead. A few minutes slipped by. He continued on, the sway of the softly hissing lantern casting dark and undulating shadows across the otherwise featureless walls. Rashidi hadn’t lied, he thought, for the narrow passageway remained as described. It curved progressively up and inward on a shallow grade, leading him ever deeper into the escarpment. To what eventual end, he couldn’t begin to imagine. A tomb, certainly. But did it actually hold the body of Alexander the Great? The mere thought of it kicked up his heart rate, warning him he must keep such mind-boggling speculations in abeyance. All easier said than done! Of less mystery to him was the engineering marvel of the tomb’s construction. Knowing what he now did, he fully appreciated the skill of both its concept and execution, visualizing exactly how it was accomplished. The key that made everything possible had to be the enormous natural fissure up on the limestone bluff. Working from its very bottom, he imagined the ancient workers must’ve dug a sizable tunnel straight into the heart of the escarpment, hauling all of the debris topside. At some predetermined point, the main chamber itself would’ve been created, including this narrow access tunnel leading back into the basin’s desert spring. Once all of this was complete�"the tomb presumably occupied�"the accumulated rubble from the entire project was then backfilled into the fissure. The final act before sealing it off would’ve been the slaughter of those unfortunate slaves, a calculating effort to guarantee total secrecy for the ages. And it would’ve done just that, David figured, but for the incredible perseverance and intuition of one Lionel DeCaylus. The tunnel began to straighten, and ahead he saw something Rashidi had failed to mention. Intrigued, he held the lantern straight out as he approached. It was an opened door, of all things, constructed of thick, cedar planking. The aromatic scent of the ancient wood still remained strong. It was designed to match the ached contours of the passage, one side solidly attached to the stone wall by iron hinges. Down near the bottom was a bloody smear, doubtless marking where Lewis had pushed it inward when he passed through. As to the door’s purpose, he could only surmise; since no provisions were made for any kind of locking device, a simple moisture barrier seemed the most probable explanation. But it was the black void beyond that captured his attention. Cautious, he moved forward, finding himself inside a rectangular chamber of impressive proportions�" so large, in fact, the feeble range of his kerosene lantern was inadequate to reveal it all. He estimated the ceiling to be at least twice his height, the width every bit of twenty-five feet. How far back it went, he couldn’t yet see. He stood in silence, trying to absorb it all. Though the central area was basically empty, a large number of dark shapes were discernable all along both sides. Lifting the lantern high, he stepped over to his right to investigate. As he did so, the smell of old cedar again reached his nostrils, but this time intermingled with it was the faint, musty scent of something less pleasant. Now he saw their origin. The closest objects were evenly spaced rows of wooden chests, perhaps sixty or more�"and just behind them, closer to the wall, were the desiccated and moldering remains of numerous individuals, all lying side by side in a row. Yet another massacre? Unsure, he brought the light closer, seeing these were no lowly slaves. By their appearance, the bodies were either soldiers or priestly guards. More probably, the latter. All wore thick sandals, their shriveled torsos uniformly clad in short-sleeved tunics of what was once fine, white linen. Most telling of all, by each man’s side lay the long spear of traditional Egyptian antiquity. A ritual honor guard, perhaps? David stepped back and raised the lid of one of the larger chests�"then blinked in utter astonishment. Stacked within was pile upon pile of decayed leather pouches, each flashing with the unmistakable glint of gold. He checked the next chest over. Then yet another. Incredibly, the contents were identical. Every chest was filled with ancient gold coins�"all classical Greek or Ptolemaic�"and of such a staggering quantity as to numb the mind. Good God, Almighty! In this single chamber alone was treasure beyond anyone’s wildest imaginings! A slight tilt of the lantern now told him something else was in here, as well. And whatever the hell it was, it had to be big. Damn big! The evidence for this conclusion was a huge section of cosmetic repair work done to the chamber’s near side. At first glance, he almost missed it, for the ancient masons had plastered it over in such a manner as to make it hardly noticeable. This was obviously the entrance point from the bottom of the fissure�"but what the hell necessitated digging a shaft of such large dimensions? It was at least ten feet square. Since a shaft just one quarter this size would’ve been more than adequate to bring in these many chests, it clearly had to be to accommodate something considerably larger. Like maybe a sarcophagus? A faint noise caught his ear, reminding him again of why he was here. In his reverie of discovery, he’d almost forgotten his real mission. He looked around, uncertain from where the sound came, again cautioning himself to remain focused. The sound repeated. Not quite as loud as before, but definitely emanating from somewhere further down the length of the chamber. Revolver in hand, he headed in that direction, the lantern’s light penetrating the gloomy dark ahead of him. The noise became more distinct, its origin unquestionably human, best described as intermittent groans of pain. He soon found its source. The chamber ended at two massive, cedar doors, each easily six feet wide and running full to the ceiling. Sadly, Lewis lay face down before them, his outstretched hands still pressed against their unyielding surface in a frozen gesture of abject defeat. Cognizant of the light, the old man now ceased to moan as David set the lantern down beside him. One of his hands, David saw, was totally denuded of fingers, explaining why the bloody imprint on the previous door had looked so grotesquely reminiscent of an animal’s paw. He sighed as he knelt by the wretched figure; then gently rolled him over, dreading what he would see. Forty feet back, unseen eyes watched all this unfold. Believing his opportunity had finally come, Oristano silently stood from behind a parallel row of chests on the left side of the chamber. Careful to make no sound, he moved stealthfully into the open. The circle of light from the lantern was well ahead of him, thus darkness was still his cover. Clutched in his hands was a fortuitous gift. It was a newly acquired weapon of lethal potential�"and one that indirectly came to him from his intended victim. Until David’s arrival, Oristano had staggered along in blind confusion for what seemed hours. Exactly how he reached this room was still a puzzle to him. It was only with the approaching lantern that he even saw the chests he could hide behind. And in view of what else he found there, he deemed this nothing less than the greatest possible stroke of good luck. Fate had provided him the means for sweet revenge. Convinced of this, he hefted the spear in his hand and crept slowly towards his unsuspecting prey. Still holding the revolver, David cradled Gobeir’s head on his arm, appalled at the condition of the old man’s face. The once-familiar features were now shredded beyond recognition, the resulting loss of blood appalling. He’d seen his share of wounds before, but this was nothing less than the handiwork of a sadistic monster. Surely there must be a special place in hell for that sick bastard! Equally distressing to David was the haunted look in Lewis’ eyes. It spoke volumes of his suffering�"and, too, it was a disturbing indicator of his present mental state. There was absolutely no recognition in his gaze, only something akin to abject horror. �śIt’s over, Lewis,” he said. �śYou’re going to be all right.” The lips moved tremulously. �śWh�"what did you�"?” �śJust lay still. I’m going to get you help, okay?” �śWho are�"are�"?” �śIt’s David�"David Manning.” The eyes were puzzled, confused. With effort, he tried to focus. �śIt really is you,” he murmured. �śHow�"how can this be? I don’t understand.” �śI’ve come to bring you out, Lewis.” �ś Out where�"?” He swallowed, his eyes wandering, his voice stronger with his rising agitation. �śThere is no out for me! Don’t you see? None of�"of�"this should’ve happened! I failed�"I�"” He paused, catching his breath. �śI must make atonement! Leave me! I�"I couldn’t even save Ahmed from those�"those�"” �ś But you didn’t fail, Lewis. Listen to me. Ahmed is alive. Do you understand what I’m saying? He’s alive.” It took several seconds, but this finally seemed to register. �śAlive�"?” �śI swear it. He’s hurt, but he’s going to make it.” A look of joy came to his mangled face. Yet strangely, it didn’t last. A sudden and inexplicable flash of terror widened his eyes. Puzzled by this, David was caught unprepared as Lewis suddenly lurched upward, shoving him with surprising strength. The reason became immediately apparent�"for stabbing downward from behind, an iron point of a spear narrowly missed him by just inches. Meant for his back, it instead sunk deep into Lewis’ chest. Stunned, David was too slow to react. Enraged at being denied, Oristano jerked the shaft free and swung the end around in a wicked arc. The bloody tip seared across David’s thumb and wrist, sending the revolver spinning from his hand. Grinning to see this, Oristano then lunged like a wild man, trying to skewer David to the floor as he crawled backwards. �śIt’s mine!” he screamed. �śAll of it is mine!” Still down, David dodged first one way, then another, desperate to avoid the repeated thrusts. Oristano was aiming for his chest, and twice almost succeeded. His attempts to catch hold of the shaft failed, the jabs coming far too fast. He must somehow get back on his feet! If not, he hadn’t a prayer. Impatient to finish this, Oristano came closer than was prudent, throwing his upper body into what he hoped would be the final, killing stab. David saw it coming�"and, too, his one chance. He pivoted enough to escape the tapered blade that creased his midriff; then kicked out at Oristano’s leg. The heel of his boot made contact below the knee, but not solid enough to break bone. As the man grimaced in pain, David rolled away�"but before he got to his feet, Oristano was again on him, this time wielding the spear like a club. Unable to escape, David felt the full force of it across his upper shoulder, and such was the shocking pain of the blow that he came perilously close to blacking out as he collapsed onto his back. It was Oristano’s scream of frustration that pulled him back. The ancient shaft had broken on impact! Brittle with age, the wood had snapped several inches below the iron tip, the blade end skittering away towards the center of the chamber. David’s reprieve was only momentary, however, for Oristano now chose another method of killing. Taking quick advantage of his prey’s weakened state, Oristano pounced on him, forcing the broken shaft across his throat as he straddled his middle. David managed to get his hands underneath, but found his strength no match for the steady pressure exerted by the man’s full weight. The wooden rod pressed inexorably lower, squeezing off his windpipe. Only seconds more, he knew, and his throat was certain to be crushed! Sensing victory, a too-eager Oristano now made the mistake of overkill. In an attempt to increase his leverage even more, he leaned further forward than was necessary. Aware of this sudden shift in weight, David used it to his advantage. With all the latent strength he could muster, he heaved upward, using his hips and knee to catapult the man over his head. David gulped deep breaths as he struggled back to his knees. He was disorientated, yet knew Oristano had rolled somewhere back towards the two massive doors. Only when he turned to see did he grasp the potential consequences of this. The revolver was back there! The realization came too late. A triumphant Oristano was already back on his feet, the located Enfield clutched in his hand. His twisted face was obscene in the lantern’s yellowish light as he raised his arm and fired off a shot. David dove sideways even as the trigger was pulled, his only thought being to escape the bullet’s path. The explosive report of the shot echoed through the chamber, so loud he felt it reverberating in the stone floor. And he felt something else, as well! Inadvertently, he’d rolled alongside the iron blade of the broken spear. Yet it would do him no good. Oristano had no intention of letting him off a second time. Not from just fifteen feet away! He was already taking aim, this time fixing him in his sights. But an intrusive sound made Oristano blink, confusion staying his hand. It was muffled, distant, yet clearly the sound of approaching footsteps�"and Oristano edged himself back against the huge doors, his eyes darting between his helpless victim and the chamber’s dark entrance. In his bewilderment, he failed to see David’s fingers enfold the few inches of shaft still attached to the spear’s tip. Oristano’s hand wavered in indecision. It was enough for David. Somersaulting forward, he whipped his arm up and around, throwing the blade as hard as he could. Oristano’s second shot came at the moment of release�"too late to alter what was already done. Taken by surprise, he’d fired at a moving target, missing completely. David’s aim was truer, for his target hadn’t moved. It was unlikely Oristano even saw the spinning projectile until the very instant of impact. The tapered blade caught him square in the throat, passing through with such force that the iron tip embedded itself deep into the door’s wood. Blood ran from the ripped opening; first in a gushing flow, then gradually slower as he died. His arms dropped loose at his sides, the revolver slipping from his slack hand. The shuffle of footsteps grew louder. David picked up the revolver and crawled the short distance to where Lewis lay on his side. The old man’s head was facing the lantern with an open and fixed stare. Yet the glazed eyes saw nothing. His skin was cold, the flesh already beginning to stiffen. �ś Professor�"?” He turned to the urgent voice, the light of another lantern now illuminating the far end of the chamber. At the entrance was Rashidi, supported by Wassef. Walking beside them was another man holding a lantern in one hand and a revolver in the other. David stood to meet them. �śI’m here, Ahmed.” �śThose shots?” �śIt’s all over.” They came forward, their grim looks drawn first to the spectacle of Oristano, and then to Gobeir. Holstering his gun, Wassef knelt hurriedly to the still form, feeling for a pulse that wasn’t there. His large face was visibly grieved. �śI can’t find�"” �śHe’s dead, Mahmoud,” said David. �śI’m sorry.” Wassef sighed, then looked expectantly at Rashidi, his expression showing where his new allegiance lay. �śTell me your wishes, sir.” Though Rashidi also grieved, he accepted the mantle of authority that was apparently now his by right. He gestured towards Oristano. �śStart by helping Ammar take that jackal down. Then tell your other man it’s now safe to bring in Miss DeCaylus. It isn’t necessary for her to see this. Nor Lewis, for that matter. Find something to cover his features.” While this was being done, he said to David, �śI think you suspected this man was in here all along. Was that why you had Elizabeth remain back with me?” �śIt seemed a real possibility.” �śOne you couldn’t chance?” He nodded; then lifted his hand, showing the revolver. �śIs this something I should still hang onto, Ahmed?” Rashidi seemed almost surprised by the question. �śOnly if you wish, Professor,” he said. �śYou have nothing to fear from me or my people. I owe you my life and more. On this you have my solemn word.” When Elizabeth was brought in, David told her everything that had transpired, leaving out no gory detail of Lewis or Oristano. He was confident in her strength, wanting nothing between them. �śAm I forgiven?” he asked. �śI saw no other way?” �śBarely,” she replied, yet hugged him close. Rashidi now ordered the massive doors pulled open. �śI think perhaps it’s time you both see what lies within,” he said. �śCome and judge for yourselves if all you’ve endured was worthwhile.” The offer was irresistible. Taking Elizabeth’s hand, David lifted the Lantern and proceeded through the now gaping portal. But after only a few steps inside, he stopped dead in his tracks, as stunned as Elizabeth by what lay before them. This innermost chamber was equally huge�"and at its center stood an enormous, wheeled catafalque of breathtaking beauty, one seemingly constructed entirely of gold. �śTell me I’m dreaming,” Elizabeth whispered in awe. Glittering in the unnatural light, it appeared more fantasy than substance. �śI�"I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” Yet it was unquestionably real. They continued forward, eyes widening in amazement. Here was a funeral car like none other imaginable, for above the great wheels rose what could only be described as a miniature Greek temple of extraordinary detail and workmanship. Slender Ionic columns, each entwined with delicately fashioned garlands, formed a colonnade that upheld a vaulted roof literally encrusted with twinkling jewels. A winged victory guarded each corner, and projecting out from the cornice beneath were ram heads, all with graceful horns sweeping back and around. Everywhere David looked were marvels of ancient artistry, exquisite creations so lovely and varied that his mind could scarcely absorb it all. And the greatest of these, he believed, yet remained to be seen. With Wassef’s aid, Rashidi led them up a flight of low steps; then moved aside, allowing them to move forward on their own. He saw the depth of their emotion, well recalling his own feelings when viewing this ancient wonder for the first time. The summit of the shallow stairs was flanked by two magnificent gold lions, but it was the rectangular mass lying further within the carriage’s colonnade that held their gaze. Partially obscured behind thin curtains of net-like cloth, it was unquestionably a sarcophagus of truly staggering size. They parted the silken gauze and stepped through. The enormous coffin was made of solid gold and unlike anything David had ever beheld�"or even imagined possible. The sides were a true masterpiece of Greek craftsmanship, the shining surface embossed with detailed depictions of fighting warriors, rearing horsemen, exotic animals�"and a multitude of mythological scenes of every kind and description. But most dazzling of all was the coffin’s arched cover, for it was constructed of literally hundreds of pieces of colored glass, each held in place by a delicate framework of pure gold. And surrounding this, David now saw, was the final proof of what lay within�"and the origin of Lionel’s enigmatic artifact. Here was a border of identical palm-size circles, each bearing the ancient sunburst symbol of Macedonian kingship. He lifted the lantern high as they both moved even closer. What they then beheld would stay with them for the rest of their lives. The ancient glass was somewhat milky and flawed, yet transparent enough for light to shine through, revealing the stunning contents within. The sight fairly numbed the mind. Here, embedded in precious spices, lay the body of one considered by many to be the most remarkable man ever produced by western civilization. A bejeweled crown lay above a wide brow, his majestic form garbed in an embroidered robe of royal purple, and upon his breast was a classic Greek olive wreath fashioned from gold leaves. But most startling of all was Alexander’s serene face. Before them was the most towering figure of all antiquity, a man who had drawn his last breath in distant Babylon no less than twenty-three centuries ago�"and yet his youthful features still remained astonishingly intact, as if somehow frozen in time. Rashidi now stood beside them. �ś Save for our brotherhood,” he said, �śall of this would most certainly have been destroyed and plundered long ago. Surely you know this to be true. We have been the guardians of Alexander. His protectors. Nothing more. Too, I want you to understand it was always our ultimate purpose, even from the distant time of this chamber’s construction, to bring him forth again. It was the great vision of Satepihu�"the genius who created this resting place�"that a time would surely come when a reborn Egypt, one finally free of foreign domination, would eventually come to pass.” David was encouraged by the man’s solemn tone. �ś And has it finally come, Ahmed?” Rashidi was silent for a moment; then gave an affirmative nod. �śIt may surprise you to know, Professor, that Lewis also came to believe this long-awaited day was perhaps finally at hand, for he saw in his own lifetime that our beloved Egypt�"after two thousand years of servitude to others�"had finally regained its rightful freedom and independence from all foreign powers. So encouraged was he, in fact, that he often spoke to me of how difficult it will be to properly accomplish this feat. He understood the many complex problems that must, of necessity, be resolved before any disclosure could be made. Once begun, it will doubtless take many months of hard work�"perhaps years�"to bring about. Nor will it be a simple task to manage.” David believed he understood where this was going. �śHe wasn’t wrong, Ahmed. But by what you’re saying, it appears Lewis really did give this considerable thought.” He cocked his head, looking at the younger man intently. �śCan I assume you took plenty of notes?” �śIndeed, I did.” David glanced back into Elizabeth’s bright eyes. �śThen it sounds to me,” he said, �śas if you could probably use some dedicated help to make it all work. In fact, I just happen to know two very willing people if you’re asking for volunteers.” Rashidi smiled in obvious pleasure. �śAh, we are truly of a like mind, Professor. This was my thought exactly!” EPILOGUE With a fresh cup of brewed coffee in hand, Elizabeth leaned back on her favorite wicker chair, enjoying the view of their secluded beachfront on Pleasant Bay. The wide, screened porch was a recent addition�"scarcely more than a year old�"and she smiled to remember how determined David was to see it finished before Jake was born. He wanted everything to be perfect, he said, the better to enjoy all of their future vacations here on the Cape. And for her it truly was perfect. A great part of her contentment, she recognized, came from finally having her grandfather home. The decision to bring Lionel’s remains back to Chatham from Egypt was definitely the right one. Now he lay close to Norman, his dearest friend, his long journey finally over. The previous eleven months were certainly busy ones. Besides the full veranda, a fair number of other necessary additions and alterations had been made to the house, not the least being the renovation of the guest bedroom into a spacious nursery. Now David still referred to it as the �Śboys’ room, his less-than-subtle way of expressing his desire for a bigger family. This, too, was in her plans, for the very last thing she wanted was Jake growing up without siblings. Particularly not here. As she knew firsthand, this picturesque setting was ideal for generating wonderful childhood memories. She turned to the squeak of the screen door as David stepped out and dropped into the chair beside her. In his hand were a dozen or more sheets of paper. �śWhat, more e-mail from Ahmed?” �śMostly, but not all.” He took a sip from her cup. �śThere’s actually some pretty interesting stuff here if you want to read through them.” �śJake’s still sleeping, so I’m going to be lazy. How about you give me the highlights. And please don’t tell me all that negotiating with the Egyptian government is still going on. It’s been god knows how long since�"” �śYou’ll be happy to learn that’s now officially over. It’s a done deal!” �śYou’re kidding, right?” �śAccording to this, it was all hammered out about three days ago. He apologizes for not getting word to us sooner. Apparently, they agreed to pretty much everything we proposed. But then again, it’s not like Ahmed gave them a whole lot of options, is it? Without a deal, the location remained secret. I guess the gold disk�"plus all those color photos we made him take inside the chamber�"was more than enough to convince them. Too bad it took so long, but it was only inevitable they would cave.” �śOh, I’m so glad! Does he give any specifics?” �śWell, let me see . . .” He shuffled through several sheets. �śHe obviously couldn’t get into all the nitty-gritty, but there’s a few things here you’ll enjoy hearing. For example, special advance units of the Egyptian army have already taken control of the valley, with a lot more to follow. It’s going to take some time to properly excavate the tomb and fully document everything.” He paused, flipping to another sheet. �śAnd speaking of which,” he continued, �śtop level communications are being sent out as we speak to the governments of Greece, Iraq, Syria, Turkey, Iran, and several other countries, inviting their best people to participate in all of this. As part of Alexander’s former empire, it’s only proper. Ahmed doesn’t exactly say here, but I get the impression this was probably one of the main sticking points in the negotiations.” She looked at him curiously. �śWhat if Greece wants you to be one of those people? With your involvement in all this, you’re sure to be high on their list. Given it any thought?” �śActually, I have. I’d say thanks, but no thanks. Been there, done that.” �śReally?” �śBut I’ll give them my best recommendation. I’m thinking Nick Travlos would do an outstanding job for them.” She grinned her approval. �śAnd just where do you suppose everything inside the tomb will end up? Cairo?” �śAh, now that’s where it kind of gets interesting! Since the Cairo Museum is already so overcrowded, the government is apparently going to construct a huge, state of the art complex to accommodate it all, probably in Alexandria�"and guess who they’re insisting head up the project and become it’s first Director?” �śNo�"! Ahmed?” �śYou got it.” David chuckled. �śI suspect it surprised even him. I think they figured it was the most logical decision. I mean, who better to protect and guard over the tomb’s contents? Plus, he’ll have free rein to employ whomever he chooses. And it’s not like he and his people won’t be totally dedicated.” He chuckled. �śHey, how many people can put two thousand years of job experience down on their resume?” She laughed in appreciation �śSo, what else you got there? You said not all of this was from Ahmed.” �śWell, there’s one from Thessalonika University I’m not all too thrilled about. According to them, the land purchase alongside my dig outside Pella is still being held up in court. They now estimate maybe as much as another six months before I can get back to work on it.” �śI’m sorry.” She moved her head in sympathy. �śYou were so looking forward to finally reopening that excavation. What will you do now?” He pursed his lips. �śWell, now that’s something we need to talk about�"and please try and keep an open mind here, okay? It’s actually kind of weird, but it seems Nick recently got a sizable inheritance from a distant uncle�"and, believe it or not, he’s come across some really old letters he wants me to look over.” �ś David�"?” �śJust out of curiosity, darling,” he asked, his expression dead serious, �śexactly how much do you know about Genghis Khan?” Table of Contents PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX EPILOGUE Table of Contents PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX EPILOGUE