‘Yeah, and we also found something horrible, and it’s a bloody good job that got destroyed too,’ he reminded her. ‘We kept a bunch of arseholes from getting hold of the worst poison on the planet. And we stopped a nuclear war while we were at it.’
‘Saving the world again, right?’ She managed a small, sad laugh.
Eddie made a similar sound of strained amusement. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time. Christ, it wouldn’t even be the second time.’
‘And this is what we get in return?’ She felt her naked side again, disgusted by the tumorous excrescences. ‘This is why I want to go to Egypt,’ she said, looking back at her husband with renewed determination. ‘One last job, as the cliché goes. If nothing else, I can help make sure that Alexander’s tomb is opened properly. Part of that legacy I talked about.’
‘What, finding Atlantis and Excalibur and El Dorado and everything else wasn’t enough?’ There was still an edge behind the words, even though his tone had lightened.
‘I just don’t like loose ends. Please, Eddie. Let me do this.’
He took a deep breath. ‘Two days?’ he finally said. ‘Two days, and then we’re done. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ she promised. ‘Let me see this through. As you like to say, fight to the end.’
Despite his clear reluctance, he nodded. ‘Fight to the end.’
5
Egypt
Nina opened the shutter to squint out of the window of the 747 at the blue Mediterranean below and the sandy shoreline on the horizon. She checked her watch; the flight had taken over twelve hours, yet on the ground it was a full day ahead of when they had left New York. ‘God, overnight flights always screw me up,’ she mumbled. ‘My body clock’ll be so out of sync, I’ll probably think we’re meeting Alexander the Great in person.’
Eddie was holding her Kindle. ‘Good, we can tell him he should be called Alexander the Dick.’
‘You’ve been reading about him?’ Before falling asleep, she had used the e-book reader to refresh her memory of both the Alexander Romance and the historical exploits of the ancient leader.
‘Yeah. I knew a bit about him – that he was a tactical genius who never lost a battle – but I’d no idea he was such a bloodthirsty arsehole. That story you told me about how he threatened to kill the entire tribe who took his horse; he would’ve done it, wouldn’t he?’
‘Yes, he would. Alexander preferred to show mercy to the rulers of the lands he conquered, as it made the transfer of power smoother if it seemed like they were voluntarily submitting to Macedonian rule. When it came to ordinary people, though,’ she went on with a grim shrug, ‘he could be completely merciless. It took his army months to win the siege of the city of Tyre, and when they finally broke through the walls, Alexander let his soldiers murder every man, woman and child they found during the first few hours, as a reward for what they’d endured to get in there. After that, anyone suspected of being a defender of the city was crucified, and every surviving civilian was sold into slavery.’
‘Nice bloke,’ Eddie said sarcastically. ‘Doesn’t sound much better than someone like Hitler, but he still somehow ended up being called “the Great”.’
‘History’s written by the winners,’ she reminded him. ‘And Alexander was definitely a winner. He was said to rule “the entirety of the known world”. Which isn’t true, as there were plenty of places the ancient Greeks knew about that he didn’t control – he didn’t even rule the whole of Greece, for that matter. The Spartans wanted nothing to do with him.’
He smiled. ‘Did they meet him and go, “This! Is! Spartaaaaarghhh!”?’ Other passengers in the first-class cabin looked around irritably at the noise.
‘Words to that effect, I’m sure. But he still ruled the largest empire in history to that point.’
‘“Alexander saw the breadth of his domain and wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.”’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that from the book?’
‘No, Die Hard.’
‘Well, wherever it’s from, it’s a misquote. The actual one’s from Plutarch: “Is it not worthy of tears that, when the number of worlds is infinite, we have not yet become lords of a single one?” Totally the opposite meaning.’
Eddie snorted. ‘Who are you going to listen to – some old Greek, or Hans fucking Gruber?’
The aircraft’s captain spoke over the intercom; they were now only fifteen minutes from Cairo. ‘Shame we couldn’t get a direct flight to Alexandria,’ said Nina, stretching to make the most of her remaining time in the luxurious reclining seat. ‘I’m not looking forward to driving a couple of hours through the desert.’
Her husband was less bothered by the impending slog. ‘At least somebody’s meeting us at the airport.’
Somebody was – though not anyone they had expected.
‘Macy?’ Nina said, wondering if the Egyptian heat was already affecting her.
It wasn’t a mirage. ‘Hi!’ Macy replied, giving the couple a perfect white smile. She was wearing what by her standards were quite modest designer clothes, though some of the locals waiting at the arrivals gate were still shooting disapproving – or lecherous, depending on gender – looks at the amount of tanned olive skin on display. ‘How was your flight?’
‘Uh . . . fine, I guess. What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you,’ the young woman replied, as if it were self-evident. ‘I came here to help you!’
‘I’m not an invalid,’ Nina said.
Macy either didn’t pick up on her irritation, or chose to ignore it. ‘My flight got in from LA about an hour ago, so I decided to wait for you. It’ll save me catching a bus to Alexandria. Trust me, you do not want to spend any length of time on an Egyptian bus.’
Nina glowered at Eddie. ‘How much did you tell her?’
‘Nothing!’ he protested. ‘I said you wanted to go to Egypt to sort out the dig, that’s all. I didn’t say what flight we’d be on or anything.’
‘Oh, Dr Assad told me all that,’ said Macy.
Nina was surprised. ‘You spoke to Assad?’
‘Sure! I phoned him and asked if I could come with you and Eddie. He remembered me from when we discovered the Pyramid of Osiris, so he said yes.’
‘What – he said it was okay for you to join a high-security dig, just like that?’
Her expression became sweetly evasive. ‘Okay, well I might have let him think that I was still working for the IHA. I didn’t say I wasn’t, and he didn’t ask, so . . .’
Eddie chuckled. ‘Never mind archaeology, you’ll go a long way in Hollywood blagging like that.’
‘Anyway, once he said yes, I persuaded Grant to pay for my flight. And here I am!’
‘Macy, you can’t just turn up and waltz into someone else’s dig!’ Nina spluttered.
‘You mean, like when you beat Dr Berkeley into the Hall of Records under the Sphinx?’
‘That was different!’
‘Not really. Anyway, what’s the harm?’ said Macy. ‘I wanted to make sure you guys are all right, and I’ll be able to use this dig as experience for my master’s. I mean, you’d rather see me become an archaeologist than a model, wouldn’t you?’
The Englishman laughed again. ‘I saw your Lara Croft photos; no reason you can’t do both.’
The conversation was interrupted by a call of ‘Dr Wilde!’ The trio looked around to see a tall, neatly bearded Egyptian in a loose-fitting suit striding towards them.
‘Ay up,’ said Eddie. ‘Who’s this?’
‘He doesn’t look like an escaped Nazi war criminal, so I’m guessing it’s our ride,’ Nina replied.
The young man reached them and extended a hand. ‘Dr Wilde, welcome to Egypt. I am Deyab, from the Antiquities Special Protection Squad; Dr Assad sent me. I will be your driver while
you are in the country. And also your bodyguard,’ he added in a more conspiratorial tone, lifting his left lapel to reveal a holstered gun concealed beneath.
‘Hello,’ said Nina. ‘Hopefully we won’t need that side of your services.’
‘I am told you had some trouble recently, so it is good to be prepared.’ He turned to Eddie. ‘You must be Mr Chase.’
‘I must,’ said Eddie, shaking hands.
‘And you are Miss Sharif, yes?’ Deyab went on, addressing Macy. Rather than shake her hand, he raised and kissed it, to her surprise. ‘Dr Assad told me to expect you. Welcome to Cairo.’
‘Well, I’m expected,’ the faintly blushing Macy said to Nina as Deyab released her hand. ‘So I guess I’m coming with you after all.’
‘I guess you are,’ Nina echoed through a frozen smile.
‘Ignore her,’ said Eddie, winking at Macy. ‘It’s always fun when you’re around. So, where’s your car?’ he asked Deyab.
The Egyptian’s comfortable Mercedes C-class sedan was waiting outside the terminal; the ASPS apparently had immunity to parking restrictions. Luggage was loaded, then they set off for Alexandria.
The drive was tedious, first negotiating the eternally choked roads of Cairo before heading along an increasingly desolate highway, the irrigated farmlands of the Nile delta giving way to barren desert. All four occupants were glad of the Mercedes’ air conditioning. By the time they reached Alexandria, the sun was wallowing towards the rippling horizon. Deyab guided his vehicle through the busy streets of Egypt’s second-largest city, bringing them into the heavily built-up downtown area that had been the heart of the ancient port. ‘This is where the dig is?’ Eddie asked dubiously.
‘It’s underneath all this,’ Nina explained. ‘The modern city’s literally built on top of the old one. They only found Alexander’s tomb by chance when they demolished an old building and started excavations for a new one.’
‘We hope it is Alexander’s tomb,’ Deyab corrected cheerfully. ‘If it is not, we have gone to a lot of trouble for nothing, eh? But we will find out tomorrow.’
‘So nobody even knows if it’s the real thing?’ said Eddie. ‘Great, it’ll probably just turn out to be Imhotep the Seventeenth’s latrine or something.’
‘That’d still be a fascinating find,’ Nina insisted. She saw his expression. ‘Yes it would! But they’re confident it really is the tomb of Alexander the Great, based on what they’ve discovered in the outer chambers.’
‘That is why the ASPS are here,’ said Deyab. ‘The stories say Alexander was buried with many great treasures. It is our job to make sure they stay with him!’
He sounded the horn to encourage a dawdling van to clear his path, then turned the Mercedes down a side street. The buildings here were squeezed together even more closely, but there was a prominent gap ahead. Tall wooden boards and plastic road cones around a space between apartment blocks marked a building site – but the armed men in dark paramilitary uniforms showed that there was more going on than normal construction work.
Deyab gave another quick blast on the horn, this time to alert the guards to his arrival. One waved, then rolled aside a high metal gate. The Egyptian guided the Mercedes through.
The area beyond was roughly square, strewn with dirt and rubble. Ragged trenches marked where the developers had begun to dig out foundations for the new building – but it was a far more carefully excavated section that was the focus of attention. A shelter had been erected over it, a pair of portable cabins nearby acting as operations centre and security post. More armed men watched the new arrivals closely.
The car stopped. Deyab got out and spoke briefly to one of his fellow ASPS, then opened the doors for Nina and Macy while Eddie emerged from the other side. ‘Dr Assad and Dr Banna are underground,’ he told them.
‘Dr Banna?’ said Eddie. ‘You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.’ Macy giggled.
Nina was puzzled. ‘What?’
Her husband and the younger woman exchanged mocking looks. ‘Seriously, Nina?’ said Macy. ‘You’ve never heard of the Incredible Hulk?’
‘Of course I have!’ she replied, adding with a smile: ‘I’m married to him.’
Eddie feigned modesty, brushing the lapel of his leather jacket. ‘Yeah, I am pretty incredible, aren’t I? But Banner, Banna, they sound – oh, never bloody mind.’
Deyab looked on with bewildered amusement. ‘This way,’ he said, leading them to the shelter. They clomped down a series of sloping wooden planks to the bottom of the covered pit. A ladder led into a hole in the ground. The floor was about eight feet below, faint inscriptions and images visible on the dust-covered walls.
Nina knew the dig’s background from the files she had read while still at the IHA. The construction work had opened up a hole in the ceiling of a long tunnel running at an angle beneath Alexandria’s street grid. Archaeologists had since discovered a complex of chambers at its far end, everything found within adding credence to the theory that this was indeed the long-lost tomb of Alexander the Great, but as yet the final barrier – sealing what was believed to be the burial chamber of Alexander himself – had not yet been opened.
That would happen tomorrow . . . assuming all went to plan.
Their Egyptian minder descended the ladder, then gestured for them to follow. Nina went first, taking the opportunity to examine the tunnel as she waited for Macy and Eddie. Lights strung along the wall revealed that in one direction the passage was blocked after about forty feet by rubble where the ceiling had collapsed long ago. In the other, it continued on for some distance until the line of lights dropped out of sight at a set of stairs.
She took a closer look at the wall. Cracks lanced through the surface, but she could still see what was left of the reliefs carved into it. Alexander’s name stood out beneath a scene showing a group of men in battle against a far larger force.
The picture’s focus was clear: a figure on horseback leading the group of soldiers, sword hand raised high. The Macedonian king had not been one to issue orders from a safe distance behind the lines.
Eddie joined her. ‘So that’s the big man, is it?’ he said, before indicating other bas-reliefs along the passage. ‘And that, and that . . . I can see why they think this is the tomb.’
‘Yeah, it’s fairly compelling evidence,’ said Nina. Macy reached the bottom of the ladder, and Deyab led the way down the tunnel. ‘But I know why they’re being cautious. Alexandria’s riddled with ancient sites, and people have been mistaken about what they’ve found before. There are even fringe theories that the tomb isn’t in Alexandria at all.’
‘How can you lose a tomb? It’s a hole in the ground – it’s not like they can go anywhere.’
‘No, but what’s in them can,’ Macy piped up. ‘Some of the Egyptian rulers who came after Alexander moved his body to their own seats of power, so they’d look like his legitimate successor.’
‘That’s right,’ said Nina. ‘He was supposed to be buried in Macedonia, his homeland, but Ptolemy – one of Alexander’s generals, who took control of Egypt after his death – hijacked his body and buried it in Memphis, south of Cairo. Then his son Ptolemy the Second brought it to Alexandria after he took power.’
Eddie shook his head. ‘So if Alexander’s body was so important, how the hell did they lose track of it?’
‘Alexandria hasn’t exactly been the most stable place in history. Plenty of wars have been fought over it, and there have been natural disasters too – most of the old city was destroyed at one time or another. The most recent historical reference to the tomb was by Leo Africanus, in the sixteenth century, and even that only seemed to be a marker of its location rather than the tomb itself. The last person we know to have actually gone into the tomb was the Roman emperor Caracalla, who died in the third century. So there’s kind of a long gap.’
They reached the end of the passage, which dropped down a flight of age-worn steps. Deyab called out in Arabic. A reply soon came. ‘Dr Assad and Dr Banna are in here,’ he told his charges.
Nina, however, was less interested in who they were about to meet than where they were meeting them. ‘God!’ she exclaimed as she reached the foot of the steps. ‘This is amazing!’
The space they entered was a rectangular room around fifty feet long and thirty wide, its arched ceiling supported by two rows of ornate columns. The walls were decorated with more reliefs depicting the life and conquests of the Macedonian leader. At the far end was a marble tableau, statues kneeling before a larger-than-life figure poised in an eternally heroic stance.
Alexander the Great.
The sculpture was similar to other representations of the king that Nina had seen: waves of thick hair flowing down around a handsome yet hard face with a broad, almost leonine nose. A noticeable change from other statues of Alexander was a greater sense of age – not of the stone, but the subject it had captured. This leader was near the end of his short but eventful life, weariness showing through his commanding presence in contrast to the almost boyish features usually portrayed.
‘So that’s him?’ said Eddie as they passed two armed ASPS stationed on each side of the entrance.
‘That’s him,’ Nina replied. ‘Alexander of Macedon.’
‘Nice hair, I’ll give him that much.’
A young Egyptian man with a thin and patchy beard emerged from behind a pillar. ‘Dr Wilde?’
‘Yes, hi,’ said Nina, peering past him for the senior archaeologists they were there to meet. ‘I’m here to see Dr Assad and Dr Banna. Can you take us to them?’
The man’s eyes widened, and he rose to his full height, affronted. ‘I am Dr Banna!’
‘Really?’ she said, surprised. He only appeared to be in his mid twenties, just a few years older than the recently graduated Macy, and nowhere near old enough to have earned a PhD. ‘I mean, of course you are,’ she quickly corrected as his expression of offence deepened.
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