The Cairo Puzzle

by Laurence O'Bryan

  I waited until the crowd were through, and walked up to the man in the uniform. He held his hands up to bar my way.

  “No tourists today,” he said.

  My phone was buzzing in my jeans pocket. I looked at the screen.

  “Henry. What’s up?”

  “Did you go to the press conference with your friend.”

  I sighed. “Looks like I missed it. A taxi driver said he had some information on Sean.”

  “Did he?”

  “He thinks there’s a connection with the Brotherhood. He’s trying to find out more.”

  “Be very, very careful, Isabel. That’s a hornet’s nest you’ll be sticking your nose into.”

  “I know.” I paused. Maybe it was time to pull in some help. “Can you get me a pass into the pyramid compound, Henry? I’m stuck at the gate.”

  Henry let out an exasperated noise. “The best advice I can give you is to take the next flight back to London. When trouble starts in Egypt anything can happen.”

  “Thanks, Hen…” I tried to sound as sarcastic as I could, but a buzzing from my phone cut me off.

  “Have to go.” I pressed at the screen, hoping not to miss the call. The 20 code at the beginning of the number told me it was from someone in Egypt.

  “Isabel here.”

  There were a few seconds of silence. Was it the taxi driver?

  “Mike here. Where are you?”

  Relief rose inside me. “I’m at the gate to the pyramid complex. I can’t get in.”

  “Was your trip into town worth it?”

  “Maybe. I’ll tell you when I see you. Can you get me in?”

  “The press conference is over, but if you want to meet Yacoub we are getting ready to enter the pyramid. I will send someone for you. You’re at the main gate?”

  “Yes.”

  He closed the line. I stored his phone number under contacts.

  I stood back from the crowd. Many had gone through the gate, but there were others who hadn’t. One had a t-shirt on with OFFICIAL GUIDE written on the back.

  About ten minutes later I saw a guard in a black uniform waving at me. I headed towards the gate. This time I was waved through. Some of the men around were muttering. One shouted something in Arabic. It didn’t sound complimentary. The guard put a hand on my arm and pointed towards a black Toyota jeep pulled up beyond the soldiers.

  “I can walk on my own,” I said, shrugging my arm from his grasp.

  He didn’t reply, just marched on ahead and opened one of the back doors of the car.

  By the time we’d reached a large tent set up in front of the Great Pyramid I was in awe. Only close up do you get a real idea of how massive the Great Pyramid is. It’s taller than most buildings in any city and as large as a city block. I could just about make out the kink in the middle of the side facing me to see that it was actually eight sided, not four, which was a common misconception. The sun was hitting directly onto the pyramid and I could see its shadow stretching out behind it, like an arrow pointing out into the desert.

  A half dozen black uniformed guards stood at the entrance to the tent. Others waited beside three black Toyota Landcruisers with tinted windows. A black Mercedes SUV waited near them. Its driver was leaning against the front of the vehicle smoking a cigarette. His suit had a bulge around the waist on his left side. I assumed this was a weapon.

  The guards at the gate stood to attention as we approached. One of them pulled open a canvas door in the tent. Beyond was a series of tables laid out in a square and a group of men with their backs to me. One of them was Mike. The other three I didn’t know. As I came into the tent Mike saw me and waved me towards the table. The other men were too engrossed in what they were doing.

  In the middle of the table was a wide screen laptop. On its screen was a wire frame image of the Great Pyramid. It was rotating slowly.

  A man in a shiny navy suit turned to me. He had black, slicked-back hair, and was wearing a red tie. His skin was smooth, but he still looked to be in his sixties.

  Mike pointed towards the man.

  “May I introduce Ahmed Yacoub, president of Yacoub Holdings.”

  I put out my hand. Yacoub grabbed it, squeezed it tight.

  “They didn’t tell me you were beautiful too, Mrs. Ryan.” He bowed slightly, smiled at me. It was almost a leer. He pulled me towards him, planted a kiss on both my cheeks. I could smell his aftershave. It was something expensive.

  Mike touched my shoulder. “We are heading up to the King’s Chamber in a few minutes. You haven’t missed anything.”

  “You are fortunate Professor Bayford has invited you to come with us,” said Yacoub. “But I can see why.” His grin stretched like a cut across his lower face.

  “I understand you are looking for your husband.” He shrugged. “Were your contacts in the British security services not able to do anything for you?”

  I started right back at him. “They won’t search every hospital in every country of the world, just because an ex junior staff member in a British consulate asks them to.”

  “I am sure you were more than a junior staff member.”

  I decided to push my luck. “I expect you would be able to open the right doors for me, though.”

  His smile widened. “I will do anything I can for you.” He bowed, turned back to the table. The other men were muttering in Arabic to each other as the 3D image kept rotating.

  Mike pointed at the screen. “As you can see, we have used 3D reconstruction to create an image of what we discovered from our infrared thermography study. This will be the first time we’ve shown the full 3D image publicly.” He reached towards the screen, pressed at it with his fingers, then flicked his fingers open.

  The image on the screen zoomed in to the top chamber inside the pyramid.

  “A group of researchers in 2011 sent a robot with a snake eye camera up one of the shafts from the other smaller chamber, the Queen’s Chamber. They discovered a wall with hieroglyphs in red paint. We believe that shaft is a red herring.” He reached for the screen, using his fingers to move the 3D model around. “Our research has focused on the King’s Chamber.”

  He leaned forward, touched the screen. “This is what the 3D modeling came up with behind the floor of that chamber.”

  The screen showed a shaft leading down to a rectangular chamber. At the entrance to the chamber there were paler shapes on either side of where the shaft entered the chamber.

  “What are they?” I pointed at the screen.

  “We don’t know,” said Mike.

  Yacoub was pressing into my left side. “Perhaps they are statues, professor,” he said.

  “They could be pillars,” I said. “I saw pillars at the entrance to an underground room under Hagia Sophia.” I stepped back. Yacoub was a bit close for my liking. I could smell his lemony body odor.

  “You’ve seen the chamber they discovered there?” Mike’s eyes opened a little.

  “I was there when it was discovered.”

  “Then you can tell us if there are similarities when we get to it today,” said Yacoub. He looked at Mike. “You should have told me she was involved in the discoveries under Istanbul.”

  Mike shrugged.

  “What do you expect to find here?” I pointed at the chamber.

  “There are three things we may find, Mrs. Ryan,” said Yacoub. “A royal tomb, unseen in five thousand years, packed with more treasures than Carter found in Tutankhamun’s, or maybe a room full of long lost papyrus scrolls and if not that, at the very least a chamber with hieroglyphics all over its walls, as we glimpsed with a robot sent down one of the shafts. What do you think, professor?” He tapped Mike’s shoulder.

  “We cannot be sure what we will find. The chamber could be empty or it could be the greatest archaeological find of the century,” said Mike.

  “Did you know that the purpose of the pyramids was as healing centers?” said Yacoub.

 
I shook my head. “I never heard that before.”

  “Well it is true. Ancient medicine was founded here in Egypt. Alexander the Great invaded us to be treated. Most of the great Roman Emperors had Egyptian doctors, the clever ones. Those doctors learned their trade in the temples, which were managed by the priests who were in control of our pyramids. These pyramids were the centerpiece of the temple complexes.”

  “This is not all proven yet,” said Mike. “But it is not unreasonable, and if we discover anything on these lines.” He pointed at the chamber on the screen. “This will cause a revolution in our understanding of medicine and ancient Egypt.”

  I heard a noise behind us. Two blue suited medical types had entered the tent. Each of the men carried a steel box. They moved to the end of the table the screen was on and started opening their boxes.

  “Everyone who will go inside is required to give a blood sample,” said Mike.

  “You mean now?” I blinked.

  “We need to be sure that any DNA found in the chamber can be traced to one of us, or that is it ancient in origin. Are you okay with this?” He leaned close to me. “It will only be a pin prick.” Behind him, the two medical personnel had taken out syringes. They were holding them up in the air.

  He leaned closer. “We can also use your sample to identify you, should the end times come upon us, and we need to put names to the bodies of the left behind.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Yacoub grinned.

  26

  The white robed technician held the syringe up. He closed his eyes and spoke the cannibal prayer aloud, slowly, so that each word bounced off the four brick walls of the room.

  “The sky clouds. The stars are cloaked.

  We feed on their organs, with their body full of magic from the Isle of Fire.

  The Lord Slayer cuts.

  We eat people. We live on them.

  We eat their magic for morning and dinner and night.

  We travel the two heavens in their entirety.

  We endure among them who are risen.”

  He paused, showed the syringe to each wall, bowing in each direction as he did so. He walked slowly to the body lying naked on the hospital trolley in the center of the room. The body was that of a man. His head was shaved and he had bruises on his arm and a purple mark on his forehead.

  The technician picked up the man’s arm. He slapped the skin at the elbow until purple lines appeared. Then he inserted the syringe. He extracted blood, walked to a steel table nearby, emptied the syringe into a glass vial and then threw the syringe into a blue waste bin.

  As he left the room with the vial in his hand he turned off the lights and adjusted the room temperature control down a notch.

  The room went quiet. All that could be heard was the distant thrum of the air conditioning.

  27

  I put my arm out. The man in the blue uniform shook his head, pointed to the back of the tent.

  “It will only take a minute, Isabel,” said Mike.

  The man in the uniform walked ahead to a table at the back. It had a small fridge and empty glass vials on it. He motioned for me to put my arm out. I rolled up my sleeve. He put the needle in. I watched as he took a syringe of blood.

  Yacoub called at me, “It is time to go.”

  They were heading out of the tent. I followed. Mike was standing near one of the Toyotas. Beside him was a bald man with a high forehead. He had a peaceful expression, as if he’d seen all this before.

  “Isabel, let me introduce Mohammad Messun. He is the son of the Minister of Antiquities. Without Mohammad this whole program could not have happened.”

  Mohammad bowed. “You are too kind, Professor Bayford.” He turned away, got in the car. Mike motioned for me to get in after him.

  I was in the middle in the back between Mike and Mohammad. I tried to avoid pressing into them, but it wasn’t easy.

  Mike leaned forward to give me more room.

  “Mohammad will supervise our work today. No internally destructive activity has been allowed in the Great Pyramid since 2002, when robots were permitted to drill through a blocking stone in a shaft leading to the Queen’s Chamber.”

  Mohammad moved his legs, pushed his thigh into mine. I didn’t move, pretended not to notice.

  “Your husband is missing?” he said, smiling at me, as if he enjoyed the fact that Sean was gone.

  “Yes.” I turned to him. “How long have you worked at the Ministry?”

  “I don’t work there.” His thigh pressed further into me. “What hotel are you staying at?”

  “We will be going to lunch at Yacoub’s house, after this,” said Mike, interrupting. “Would you like to come?”

  “Yes.” I stretched my leg out, so it wasn’t in full contact with Mohammad’s.

  Yacoub was in the front seat talking in Arabic with the driver. It was a short drive to the base of the pyramid. Red and white barriers were set up by the steps hewn into the pyramid. They led up to a small opening in the middle of one side of the pyramid. A crowd waited around the barrier. Black suited guards stood on the other side.

  Our car pulled up at the side of the cordoned off area. As Mike and Yacoub got out the barrier was pushed to the side of the car so we could walk directly to the steps leading up the side of the pyramid. I got out behind Mike. As I did I felt Mohammad touch my back.

  As we walked up the stairs I looked up. The pyramid seemed to extend forever. The stones looked far too massive to have been moved there just by brute force. The crowd behind the barrier were using smartphones to take pictures of us. Mike and Yacoub led the way into a roughly hewn opening in the side of the pyramid.

  “This is known as the robber’s entrance,” said Mike. “It was battered into the pyramid in 820 A.D. by Caliph al-Ma'mun’s palace guard. The Caliph was told by a fortune teller that he could regain his lost youth if he could find a way into the secret chamber in the pyramid.”

  “This was the story you told my father, too,” said Mohammad. “I hope you have more luck than al-Ma'mun.” He was behind me.

  After a short climb up a steeply angled, narrow, low roofed tunnel the passage opened up into a small high roofed area. The walls here were smooth streaked limestone. The air was cool. I felt a sense of calm, similar to the feeling I get in cathedrals, as if something bigger than us was watching, listening.

  A passage led upward, but a man barred our way with his body.

  Mohammad strode towards him waving his arms, speaking fast in Arabic. The other man stood his ground, waited for Mohammad to finish, then launched his own tirade. Yacoub joined in the gesticulating, pointing at the man, as if threatening him.

  “What’s happening,” I whispered to Mike.

  “This guy claims to be the new guardian of the pyramid, appointed by the Minister of Antiquities only yesterday. He says we don’t have the right papers to do any investigative work in the King’s Chamber.”

  The argument was getting louder. Echoes of Arabic bounced off the walls, reverberated, filling me with a sense of menace. There was a noise behind me. I turned. Two women dressed in black from head to toe were standing right near me. They were staring at the man blocking our way. Yacoub looked back at them, motioned them forward. The two women pushed past me.

  The argument took a new tone as they came up and joined in, standing beside Yacoub. The man blocking our way eyed them as if they were snakes. He started pointing at them. Then he stepped back. Everybody went silent, and the shouted echoes dissipated into the air.

  Yacoub spoke softly now, reassuringly.

  “What the hell is happening?” I asked Mike.

  “Yacoub has pointed out that he has brought his daughters to see the King’s Chamber for the first time. He’s also said that this guy can supervise our work in the chamber.”

  There was a pause. The man blocking our way stroked his beard. Then he held his hand above his heart and bowed.

 
Yacoub hissed something. The man stepped aside. I followed up a steep walkway right behind Mike. The gallery we were in had a high roof, which tapered inwards to a narrow stone ceiling maybe thirty feet above our heads. I could sense the weight of thousands of tons of rocks all around us. Why the hell had anyone created this high roofed passage, sloping upwards, its stones angled precisely at the same angle as the walkway under our feet and narrowing evenly above our heads?

  Mike spoke in Arabic to the man in front of him as we went. I was looking at the walls of the gallery. The cracks between each stone panel were straight, with no visible gap or mortar between them. How the hell had the builders made a gallery like this thousands of years ago, when most of the world was living in mud huts?

  There were lights set at intervals along the walls of the gallery and wires running nearby.

  At the end of the gallery was a platform and a small square passage, we had to bend and scuttle through. It led to a rectangular chamber, stone walled and roofed, maybe twenty feet wide and twice that long, with a flat stone ceiling about twenty feet above our heads.

  The air was dry, still. A faint smell and taste of dust came to me. The room was lit by electric lamps on two walls. Three pieces of equipment on sturdy tripods stood in the room. One was in front of a niche in the end wall, near the entrance to the tunnel. It had a square metal weight suspended from it on a chain. The other two had an electronic instrument on top of them. A sliver of red light ran from one to the other, about chest height. I guessed they were measuring something with lasers.

  Mike stood by the tripod with the weight suspended from it. We gathered around, expectantly.

  “Thanks to Yacoub Holdings and the Ministry of Antiquities, we are delighted to finally conclude the testing phase of our project here in the King’s Chamber. As you know our measurement instruments have uncovered anomalies in the floor of this chamber, with the thermal readings indicating a shaft below us.” He smiled. Mohammad was filming him with an iPhone, as was one of the two black clad women who had joined us.