by Rai Aren
Hans and the other three men stood at attention, as if being addressed by a general.
“I am disappointed,” Maximilian said as he sealed the door flap to the room. “You have never failed me before.” His voice had a flat, steady tone to it, but the set of his jaw belied his simmering anger.
“Herr Reichmann,” Hans said, bowing his head. “The Americans had some unexpected help from the locals. Once they escaped our grasp at the airport and we were blocked from our pursuit, it took us half an hour to clear the street and then move the vehicles out of the marketplace. The local merchants were deliberately delaying us. I am certain we were ambushed.”
“Khadesh,” Maximilian stated, his face grim.
“Yes, I believe he orchestrated their escape.”
“But I thought you took care of anyone who would be trying to reach the Americans once they landed at the airport?” he frowned. “Specifically Khadesh.”
“I thought so, too,” he replied. “Our contacts at the airport were instructed to detain Khadesh if he appeared, but no one saw him. They were also supposed to question anyone waiting for passengers from that specific flight, and detain the person or persons waiting for the Americans. Apparently they did detain and question a handful of people, but no one admitted to being there for the Americans. Somehow they knew what was happening.”
The other three men stood by silently, nervously awaiting Maximilian’s response to their collective failure.
“Khadesh is a growing problem,” Maximilian said, his frustration mounting.
“He is indeed powerful,” Hans said. “He is a ghost. My men and I can’t find him.”
“He is out there, somewhere. He must have been the one who sent for Mitch and Alex. There’s no other explanation.”
“I agree,” Hans said as he nodded, shifting his stance.
Maximilian walked to a screened window in the room where the flap had been pulled up. He gazed outside for a few moments, looking up at the massive Sphinx, dwarfing them all and hiding its secrets. It was as though it challenged him, defied him personally to uncover them all. And he would.
He turned back to Hans. “Khadesh has been my nemesis for many years, working behind the scenes, in the shadows. He has opposed everything I have done since I entered the ancient Egyptian antiquities collecting business. He has thrown every obstacle at me, but I have overcome them all.”
“Yes, Herr Reichmann,” Hans replied.
“Until now, I have been able to swat aside his feeble attempts at interference.”
Hans nodded curtly.
Maximilian took a deep, sharp breath, deciding on his next course of action. “We will just have to step up our offensive.”
Hans and his men stood by waiting for Maximilian’s direction.
“Khadesh may be powerful, but I am stronger,” Maximilian said as he stared intensely, past the Sphinx, to the city of Cairo, deep in thought. “His influence in Egypt will come to an end,” he murmured to almost himself. He turned his attention back to Hans. “Find Khadesh or the American group. We find one, we find the other.”
Hans nodded. He and his men were about to take their leave when suddenly loud cheering erupted both inside and outside the tent. The scientists and archaeologists who were operating the scanning equipment congratulated each other. The mood was celebratory.
Maximilian left the room to see what the commotion was about.
Hans and his men followed behind.
Maximilian spotted his tall, grey-haired lead archaeologist. He was an older man in his late-fifties, trailed by his shorter, thinner, and younger assistant. Both were hurrying towards the tent.
The younger man felt dizzy and nauseous. He walked clumsily as he tried to prevent his hat and sunglasses from falling off. Sweat poured off of both men’s brows, their shirts soaked through with sweat. White residue from sloppily applied sunblock lotion was streaked all over their once pale, now pinkish, arms and legs.
They entered the tent and spotted their boss at once. “Maximilian, we’ve found it!” Dustimaine exclaimed, huffing, trying to catch his breath. “The scanners are showing that the object is a close match to the properties of your disk. We’ve been able to pinpoint its exact location beneath the Sphinx.”
Maximilian had told the former professor and his assistant that they were looking for a metallic object, and that it was the same object that had been responsible for the worker’s death on Dustimaine’s initial excavation. Dustimaine had been furious to learn that Dr. Khadesh had lied to him, telling him it was a generator accident. He was even angrier when he realized that Mitch and Alex, who were working for him at the time, would have known all along what really happened and kept it from him. He had, however, hidden his further indignation that the man who was killed was a spy for Maximilian and the lack of answers that he had been provided regarding why there was a metal object below the Sphinx, and also why he had not yet been allowed to examine the other object made from the same material. It had been extremely frustrating for him. He had a lot of questions, but Maximilian was not the sort of person to tolerate them to be asked. He was a man of many secrets. Dark secrets.
“Excellent news,” Maximilian said, smiling broadly.
“Yes,” Dustimaine said as he nodded enthusiastically. “We believe it’s located in a subterranean chamber a few feet in, and perhaps twenty feet down.”
“Well done, Professor,” Maximilian said. “I was right in putting you in charge of this excavation.”
“Thank-you sir,” he said. He hesitated.
“What is it?” Maximilian asked, seeing the question on his face.
“Well, now that we have found a match, I was thinking perhaps Fessel and I could examine the disk you keep referring to,” he said pointing to a large black container sitting on a table in the corner of the room. It was guarded round the clock by men armed with semi-automatic rifles. “You know…to help things along.”
Fessel’s face lit up with hopefulness.
Maximilian regarded them for a moment. He saw their curiosity bubbling to the surface. “Not now,” he said, having no intention of letting them anywhere near it.
“But…”
“Do not question me,” he replied, raising his index finger. His demeanor and tone left no room for further debate.
“I see,” Dustimaine said, clearly disappointed. He glanced back at the container.
The two guards glared at him.
Dustimaine averted his eyes, bitterly swallowing his frustration. So similar to the way he had been treated by Khadesh. No regard, precious little respect. He hated it. But he knew like before, he was powerless to do anything about it.
“Next steps?” Maximilian asked, changing the subject.
“We will start the excavation first thing tomorrow morning,” Dustimaine answered.
Maximilian looked angry all of a sudden. “Tomorrow? Why the delay? Why not now? From the sounds of it we can easily draw up plans and begin digging immediately.”
“We should still reach the chamber in the next few days, four days tops,” Dustimaine replied as he removed his hat. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. The sun had not been kind to his pale, weathered skin. Age spots covered his balding head and his face also had a pinkish tinge to it, in spite of the wide-brimmed hat he always wore and the large amounts of sunscreen he slathered on daily. “The…” his voiced cracked as he felt his throat go dry. He impatiently motioned to Fessel to hand him some water.
Fessel obliged, nervously eyeing Maximilian’s men, standing and staring hard at him and the professor.
Dustimaine took a long drink and continued. “The Egyptian workers are over-worked as it is and the days are getting hotter. It’s already over 40 degrees Celsius by noon. The Egyptian authorities are taking extra precautions in this heat. They won’t allow them to
work full days any longer. It’s too dangerous. Drawing up plans, then beginning an excavation will take too long. They…”
“I do not care about the workers!” Maximilian yelled as he cut him off. “We can always get more. I want that object retrieved before Khadesh finds a way to get to it,” he fumed. “Now that we’ve found it, an extra day is unacceptable, Professor.” Maximilian still used the title, even though it was no longer recognized in any professional circles. He knew how gratifying it was for Dustimaine to hear it, and playing to his ego kept the former professor motivated. However, he was beginning to think other forms of motivation would soon be needed.
Dustimaine didn’t reply.
“Your friends are back, you know,” Maximilian said, his voice conveying a slight taunt.
“What friends?”
“Mitch and Alex, and their two irritating sidekicks Jack and Bob.”
Dustimaine and Fessel were speechless. Dustimaine’s face burned a bright red. He was indignant that his former students were back, no doubt trying to show him up once again.
“I’m pretty sure Khadesh summoned them back,” Maximilian said.
“Can’t we do something about them?” Fessel asked.
“We?” Maximilian said, raising his eyebrows.
Fessel didn’t reply.
“No doubt, the two Americans will pass on all of their archeological information to their fan and protector Khadesh,” Maximilian said as he glared at Fessel, who blanched.
“It’s not my fault your men lost Mitch and Alex at the airport,” Fessel protested. “If they had just…” Fessel stopped abruptly as Hans stepped forward, giving him a menacing look.
“If you had found the information for me back in the U.S., we wouldn’t be in this tight spot now,” Maximilian said. “I knew you were useless. I should have dealt with you as such.”
“I-I tried…” Fessel said.
“But you didn’t succeed, did you? Don’t you know that results are the only things that matter in life? The rest is nothing.”
“I l-l-looked everywhere I could think of. I took a big risk breaking into their…”
“Shut up,” Maximilian hissed, pointing a finger at his face, “or I’ll shut you up for good.” Beads of perspiration now covered his face, which only seemed to enhance his menacing expression.
Fessel paled with fear and cowered behind Dustimaine.
“With all due respect, Mr. Reichmann,” Dustimaine said holding his hands out in hopes of calming the situation, “we also have to proceed with utmost caution. We’re trying to avoid damaging the area. As we discussed in our initial review of the excavation plans, we must go slow, the external walls of the chamber need to be…”
Maximilian cut him off with a quick raise of his hand. “You listen to me very carefully, Professor,” he said, stepping towards the older man, his clear blue eyes penetrating, “I will not wait another four days. This excavation has already been put outrageously behind, since the authorities wouldn’t allow us to move the Dream Stela and enter the chamber that way.”
“But we couldn’t give a detailed proposal on that, no one knows how to get in that way, except…” Dustimaine started to say, but then stopped himself.
“Yes, Mitch and Alex,” he spat. “I know. Again, this is your failure that we were unable to provide thorough and precise plans for how to enter that way and are stuck digging like savages,” he said thrusting his arms in the air, as he turned and walked a few feet away to look out the doorway.
Hans and his men grunted their agreement.
“I-I’m sorry,” Fessel said, “I swear, I don’t think they kept any notes or…”
“Not now, Fessel,” Dustimaine whispered, looking worried.
Maximilian’s hands were balled into fists. He burned with anger and hostility. He wanted to strangle that scrawny runt Fessel right then and there, and bury his body in the desert. Inferior men like him deserved nothing more.
Dustimaine and Fessel just watched him fearfully.
“I do not like being forced into methods not of my choosing,” he seethed. He was furious at the limitations placed on him by the Egyptian authorities and by being let down by his American conscripts. He had expected more of them since they had been involved in the first Sphinx excavation. ‘They should both be killed for their ineptitude,’ he thought.
Maximilian stalked back over to Dustimaine, who visibly cringed at his approach. He poked a finger into Dustimaine’s chest, hard. “I don’t care what you have to do. Find me that object. You will use all of your archaeological knowledge and skill to excavate fast, while taking whatever precautions you can manage to squeeze in while doing so. If you cannot do that, and deal with the workers and authorities, then my men will take care of them. And if that happens, our deal will be invalid. Understood?” He pushed his finger even harder into Dustimaine’s chest, knocking the tall, slender man off balance.
Hans and his men stepped around behind Fessel and Dustimaine.
Fessel gasped.
“Y-yes, yes, perfectly,” Dustimaine stammered, looking behind him. The men just stood there, their arms crossed in front of them. “We will figure out ways to get to the chamber faster, won’t we Fessel?” He roughly pulled Fessel out from behind him.
“Faster, yes, much faster, no problem, no problem at all,” Fessel replied, the look of terror unmistakably etched on his face.
“Somehow I’ll convince the authorities everything we are doing is safe,” Dustimaine said, his voice shaking. “You have my word, Mr. Reichmann, it will be done.”
Maximilian glared at him. “It better be. No more delays.” He looked back at the container. He felt hungry, desperate for more of what it represented. Nothing would stop him from his quest.
Chapter 14
Forgiveness, Circa 10,000 B.C.
SINCE Princess Anjia’s return, there was an overriding sense of happiness, hopefulness and peace amongst the Royal Family and the Kierani people. At least for most.
Traeus still did not speak with Assan. Though the Royal Family and priesthood needed to consult on many matters to run their society, it was all still being conducted through messengers. Oftentimes, that messenger was Mindara. She had patiently waited for her husband to come around, but it seemed that possibility grew more distant with each passing day. She felt her husband’s pain, but the task of being the intermediary between him and the Head Priest was challenging and frustrating at times and she was growing tired. However, she was intent on supporting her husband so she carried on, waiting and hoping for the day when the hurt could be mended. She knew no true healing would come until that time.
Anjia witnessed this. She also knew how plagued her father was by his bitterness towards Assan. She needed to help him to move forward, to move past his pain and resentment. It would only cause him more suffering.
She decided to intervene. She went to find him. She found him working in his office, papers strewn about. “Daddy?”
Traeus immediately stood up, smiling. “Well hello! What a nice surprise, come in, come in.” His face lit up at the sight of her.
“Thanks, I hope I am not interrupting you.”
“Oh, sweetheart, nothing could ever be more important to me than time with you,” he said as he gave her a big hug. “Would you like a refreshment? I can send for something if you wish.”
“No, no, I actually need to speak with you about something. Something important.” She looked at him in earnest.