Alex stood, rather frustrated, as he peered through the bars into a walled area which dwarfed the temple straight ahead of him. It looked lost and quite insignificant. “As boring temples go, this is as boring as they get,” he thought. From where he stood, all he could make out was a virtually plain frontage with an entrance in the middle, no bigger than that of their hotel. There was a small section of ancient graffiti to the left. This did not look to him as though it was Egyptian. There had also been carvings, small and shallow, around the entrance. These had mostly been defaced.
Looking slightly to his left, there were some low, almost indistinguishable ruins, behind which, at the very back, were what he immediately thought of as potting sheds. Made from mud brick with curved roofs, they jutted out from the hill behind. Each had an entrance roughly the size of a modern front door. One of them had a very new looking wooden door. This emphasised the potting shed look. Though there was no sign of life, he wondered if this could be where his dad was working. Perhaps the new door hid a tunnel into the hill behind.
He immediately dismissed this ill-thought-out theory. The whole area was locked up, there was nobody about and all marks on the ground headed directly to the little temple, nowhere else. The two entrances in the south wall, blocked by wooden slatted gates, were well above the current ground level. He was happy that once inside he could move around without any worry of being seen. The thought that he could move around freely kept going around in his head. “Of course,” he said out loud. There were no footprints because the area had been swept. There had to be footprints everywhere, even if they were only those of the gaffir. It certainly was not natural to sweep sand. He would have to check out the new door.
As he continued to visually check the area out, he became aware of a small entrance towards the far end of the north wall. This looked as though it was possibly only secured by a wooden gate. From his limited experience, wooden gates were not strongly made in Egypt, so this must be his best chance of getting in.
Less than five minutes later he was carrying one of the wooden batons he had kicked out of the gate, as he headed as quickly as he could to the ‘potting shed’. The door to it was closed, though the hasp and staple were not secured. Alex could see a very shiny, very well made, and therefore very expensive padlock. It had been placed in a hole in the wall to one side of the door, the hole giving all the signs of having been made specifically for the padlock to sit in. Taking hold of the hasp whilst raising the piece of wood that he carried, ready to fight off any possible attacker, he wrenched the door open.
He used so much unneeded force that he staggered back, the wood went flying, and he ended flat on his back on the ground. Scurrying on all fours to regain his grip of the piece of wood, he stood as quickly as he could, only to be confronted by a collection of old brooms, mops and buckets. The room being ancient, it would have been kept as a treasured piece in any western museum, yet here it was being used as nothing more than a broom cupboard. There was a large fuse board attached to the left-hand wall which Alex at first thought was strange, but then realised that this area must be lit at night, just as the Theban Hills were.
It was then that he heard shouts emanating from the temple. He spun around, still brandishing his piece of wood, just in time to see the small figure of Cairo running straight towards the main gate, only for him to have as much success in getting out as Alex had at getting in. Running over, he pried Cairo from the gate whilst at the same time making every attempt to calm him down.
“They got her! They got her! They got her!”
Alex asked who, when, why and where, between Cairo repeating, “They got her.” Nothing he did had the desired calming effect, so he let go before taking a step back. Cairo, in his desperation to get away, frantically rattled at the gate again. In a moment of inspiration, Alex knew exactly what he had to do. He rummaged in his backpack, bringing out a tranquiliser. It worked instantly.
Cairo turned, snatched the pack of sandwiches from his hand, and in the shade under the entrance arch he slid to the floor as he ripped at the plastic wrap. Between bites, he started telling Alex all that had happened.
There was initially nothing that Cairo said which Alex had not already worked out. Keeping silent, he waited until Cairo had something to tell him which he did not already know. It was not long before Cairo was explaining how Kate had struggled to unlock and then lock the main gate, before they ran into the temple. Apparently, it was much more interesting inside than out.
He was now into his stride. “Though all very interesting inside, Mister Alex, many ancient gods on walls, we found nothing. Madam Kate had me look low whilst she high, looking for secret entrance, tunnel or us.”
“Us, Cairo?”
“Us, you know, us! Someone us place.”
“Oh, you looked for signs of use.”
“That what I say, Mister Alex.”
“Yes, sorry Cairo, do carry on.”
“But nothing there, Mister Alex. Madam Kate worry gaffir may be back, so we hurry. Then Madam Kate found a wrong wall.”
“Can you show me?”
“Yes, Mister Alex.”
Having finished the sandwiches, Cairo did not need to be asked twice. Off and running, he ran around the temple, much to Alex’s surprise, as he had expected him to go inside. Desperate to keep him in sight, Alex almost flew over the top of Cairo, when he stopped abruptly. Pointing towards a new wall, at the bottom of the hill behind the temple, he said, “This the wall, Mister Alex.”
Alex was going to break Cairo of this ‘Mister’ rubbish, but right now he could immediately see what had fascinated Kate. This wall was so obviously out of place. Several thousand large rocks, not of a type found in this area, had been cemented together. Alex had never seen a wall made like this anywhere in the Theban Hills; anywhere in Egypt for that matter. Everything about it looked wrong. Possibly seven metres high, it jutted out from the hill behind the temple by a metre or more. Alex presumed that it was many rocks deep, causing him to wonder, not for the first time, if what had been put in place was to keep visitors out, or something very bad in. His instincts, as previously in the Valley of the Kings, went with the bad. He had only just started to feel along the wall when Cairo stopped him.
“We did that, Mister Alex. It solid. No way in.”
“Then where was Kate taken?”
“We walk here.” Cairo took the few paces needed to be against the back wall of the temple, where he pointed towards a line of carvings of ancient gods and a pharaoh. There were six images in total with the pharaoh on the left, holding his hands up as if he was serving the god facing him, with a second god queuing. The effect of being served was heightened as the hieroglyphs in-between the pharaoh and the gods looked to all intents and purposes like a counter.
“It’s the queue for the first Egyptian McDonald’s,” said Alex, thinking that this would give Cairo a laugh. It did not.
Looking directly at Alex with a face that displayed deep concern he said, “That what Madam Kate said, just before they got her.”
“Who got her?”
“She stand where you stand. I look at gods and laugh. When I turn round, she gone.”
Alex took an involuntary step backwards. As he did, he looked down as if he expected to see the face of Kate looking up at him from the ground below.
Kate was missing. They had so far failed to locate his father or the awful Napoleon Ramolino. They also had no idea if both men were looking at the same or different dig sites. They presumed that they were both looking at the same one. However, they did not know this for a fact.
All Alex knew was that he knew nothing. In all, it was a failure of a day. Even if by some miracle he found Kate and took her safely back to the hotel, she was likely to be grounded by Aggie, however unfairly, for the events of yesterday. “This isn’t a failure of a day,” he thought, “it’s a total and absolute failure of a day. On a scale of failure, where one is the best and ten is the worst, today is a thirteen!”
-
Hi-Tech Tomb
“Mister Alex, Mister Alex, come quickly,” called Cairo quietly, though excitedly, from his crouched position behind some mud bricks. He motioned for Alex to keep as low as possible as he approached.
“What is it?”
“There, Mister Alex.”
“Where?”
“There, look, the door.”
“Yes, Cairo, I opened it earlier, and behind it there are cleaning materials.”
“You closed it, as it just open.”
Alex had no recollection of closing it. He was, however, willing to give Cairo the benefit of the doubt. After a few minutes of staring at an unmoving door, Alex was less inclined to do so. Just about to move over to the ‘broom cupboard’ – he no longer saw it as a ‘potting shed’ – to prove to Cairo that there was nobody over there, he froze. There was now movement. First one person appeared, followed quickly by another. Both were dressed as Egyptian gaffirs, though Alex thought that they moved much more like CIA or FBI officers, he could not remember which, the ones who guarded the American president. The black curly wire they each had dropping down from their ears emphasised this feeling.
Cairo, with his love of American movies, felt likewise.
“Who do you think they are?”
“They look like US Secret Service agents, you know, them who protect the president.”
Alex could feel himself blush. “They also move like Secret Service agents,” said Alex, using his newly found knowledge, “but if they were, they would have found us before that one went to unlock the gate.”
With the first ‘agent’ at the gate, the second one moved back to the ‘broom cupboard’, where he was now speaking into his wrist. Six Egyptians emerged, who had to be the labourers, as their galabeyas were dirty, old and torn. Once through the gate, two turned left, two turned right and two went straight up the hill, which must have been a hard climb after a long day’s work. They were all quickly out of sight, hidden from view by the high mud brick wall. A few minutes later, exactly the same thing occurred. A further six workers left in pairs by three different directions. They were only just out of sight when a man with a bandaged head stepped out from the ‘broom cupboard’, along with two others.
“It’s Napoleon,” said Alex, not that Cairo needed to be told, “though I don’t know who the other two are.”
“They the money, Mister Alex.”
“Do you know who they are?
“Never seen them, Mister Alex, but their suits fit perfect.”
“Excellent observation. They do look to be wearing very smart suits.” The wooden door was padlocked. Then the main gate was locked as they left. Cairo followed Alex over to the ‘broom cupboard’, but this time it was well and truly locked. Alex knew exactly how to get through a weak wooden Egyptian door, so he advised Cairo to stand back. Taking a couple of paces further back than were absolutely necessary, thinking he would impress Cairo, he threw his whole body at it. Rather than giving way easily, as he had anticipated, the door offered extreme resistance. He was yet again on the ground, though this time in great agony.
Alex did everything he could to stop from crying out in pain. He could not risk anyone hearing, in case they came back to discover that they had been seen leaving.
Cairo, out of deep concern, asked if he was okay.
Alex could only nod. Had he opened his mouth he would have screamed from the pain. It had appeared to be such a weak door. It still looked like a really weak door. Cairo was fussing around, so Alex gestured that he would be okay. All he needed was a little time to recover.
Cairo went and sat on a nearby mound.
A minute or two passed, before they became aware that they were no longer alone. They looked towards each other, though all they could focus on was the oversized head of an Egyptian cobra. It had risen between them, its hood fully open. It did not hiss, it did not stick its forked tongue out, but most of all it did not scare them.
Alex felt calm because he knew Cairo was no hero, yet he had made no attempt to run off.
Cairo felt calm as, like most Egyptians, he knew that an Egyptian cobra would not attack anything larger than it could eat, unless, of course, it felt trapped. Here there was plenty of space for the cobra to slither away, yet it made no attempt to leave. There was also something else that was going through Cairo’s mind, something from his past, something that took any possible thought of panic from him.
First, the oversized cobra looked at Cairo. It appeared to nod, as a silent way of saying hello.
Cairo nodded back.
It then turned to Alex and did the same.
Alex nodded in reply.
The cobra, having confirmed it had the attention of them both, turned its head before flicking its wonderfully long black Y-shaped tongue towards the wooden door.
Alex, still in more than a little pain, slowly attempted to get up. Everything on the left-hand side of his body was sending messages of pain to his brain. Both limping and holding his arm, he made his way over to the door. After everything that had happened to him since he had arrived in Luxor, Alex was open to help from any quarter, however strange it may appear. Looking more closely than he had before, he now realised that the padlock had no place to insert a key. It did not even have a maker’s mark. This meant that it must have been specially made, as it was very high-tech, possibly a one off. “We are definitely on to something here,” he thought. He turned to the snake for help, only to find that it was no longer here. “Well, Cairo, perhaps I should worry about my sanity. Why would I ever consider that a snake could help us? You did see a snake, didn’t you? Or did I hit my head harder than I thought?”
Cairo motioned for Alex to turn around.
When he did, he found himself almost nose to nose with the snake. It had climbed up on the slope beside him before raising itself up onto its tail. Alex took an involuntary step back. This caused him to wince from the pain of sudden movement.
The snake made head movements towards the hole where the padlock had previously been.
Alex immediately put his hand into the hole.
As he did, the snake shook its head most vigorously.
Now paying particular attention to the snake’s movements, Alex took hold of the mud brick to the right of the hole. He slid it sideways. It moved very easily, to reveal a small ten-digit keypad. Again, when Alex turned to look at the snake, it had gone, though not far. It had coiled itself to look like a cartouche, the hieroglyphic container for the name of a pharaoh. Only instead of hieroglyphs it contained six very neat groups of small round stones. Counting the stones in each group it gave Alex the numbers, six, nine, eight, eight, nine, six. He turned to key this in. As he pressed the last digit, the lock dropped open. Sliding the mud brick back to cover the keypad, he put the hi-tech padlock in his pocket, rather than into the hole in the wall, as he needed to ensure that nobody could lock them in, because if people could come out, they were going to find the way in.
Opening the door, it looked exactly as it had done, full of cleaning equipment and with a wall mounted fuse board. “There has to be more to this than a broom cupboard, as there is no way that anyone would have this level of security on a broom cupboard.” On closer inspection, the door that was wood outside, was only painted to look like wood inside. When tapped, it emanated a metallic sound. “Metal,” thought Alex, “no wonder I couldn’t get through it.”
“Where they go from here?” asked Cairo.
“I don’t know.” Alex looked to the snake for guidance.
As much as any snake could it sort of shrugged it non-existent shoulders, before it slithered off, disappearing into a small hole in the hill.
“Any ideas?”
“None, Mister Alex, but they came out, so this all must move.”
Alex leant forward to pick up an old broom. He thought that with its thick wooden handle it would be useful for Cairo to have, just in case they needed to defend themselves. However, w
ith his attempt to pick it up came the realisation that it was very securely fixed in place. He inspected further, only to find that the mop, bucket and even what looked to be rags, in fact everything, was solid and immovable. “The only reason for fixing everything in place, is to stop it all from falling over. This whole thing must move.”
“What do you mean, Mister Alex?”
“Well … we saw the people come out, so there must be a passage here. Agreed?”
“Oh yes, Mister Alex, there must be passage.”
“Everything in front of us has to move out of the way to reveal where they came from.” Alex, though speaking to Cairo, was also thinking out loud. “It cannot move to the left or the right as there is nowhere for it to go, so it must either flip backwards or forwards.” Alex looked for signs of marks made by any movement. He could not see any. Whoever had made this had done an excellent job. “It must flip forward,” said Alex in a moment of revelation,
“It must?”
“Yes, otherwise when it flips we would have to climb over the buckets. Can you see that?”
“Oh yes, Mister Alex,” said Cairo, not seeing at all.
“We need a lever, but I can see no sign of one. I have pulled at everything. It’s all quite solid.”
“There are lots of levers on fuse board.”
“Yes, that must be it,” said Alex, who was looking at the cleanest fuse board he had ever seen, not that he had seen many. Now really inspecting it for the very first time, he could see that it was far too clean for where it was, and also that there was a small flick switch associated with each fuse. “Which one of these switches do you think will let us in?”
“Flick them all, Mister Alex,” said Cairo very excitedly.
“We don’t know what will happen if we do, as there may well be an alarm rigged to this, to trap people like us.”
Death in Luxor Page 9