“Are there any archaeologists in that notebook?”
“Possibly, but I have no clue who they would be,” she paused and gave it some thought. “Actually, all of his contacts could be archaeologists. He always considered himself to be one of them even though he was an electrical engineer.”
“Anything related to the pyramids?” he asked. “The Great Pyramid in particular?”
“Not really, nothing about pyramids at all,” said Anna closely examining the pages. She stopped. “This could be something.”
“What?”
“I just found your mystical phrase.” She pointed to one of the lines inside the pocketbook. Hr. Kirilov — Moskau, Russland —“Vier Möglichkeiten.”
“What does that mean?” Michael asked.
“It’s in German, and it says ‘four ways.’”
“You mean it’s actually written, ‘four ways’? The hairs were standing up on the back of his neck.
“It says Mister Kirilov — Moscow, Russia — ‘four ways.’”
“Your father said that to me!” he exclaimed excitedly. “But who is Mr. Kirilov?”
“I have no idea, but we will need to talk to him in order to shed some light on this.”
“Is there a phone number for him?”
“I’m looking,” she paused, turning the pages. “No, unfortunately no address, no phone number.”
“Is it possible to call information and ask for someone in Russia?”
“Sure, I can try,” said Anna, reaching for her purse.
“I’m going to the men’s room.”
When Michael returned, Anna was still talking on the phone. She ended the call, “No luck, his phone number is not listed.”
“Well, then there’s only one thing left to do,” said Michael as he sat down, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Are you suggesting we go to Russia?” asked Anna, not sure whether Michael was serious or joking. “I’ve never been to Russia and have always wanted to visit. It’s an amazing country; I’ve heard so much about it,” Anna chattered happily. She paused, looking at his face. “I still have two more weeks of unused vacation,” she added.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Michael was looking at her incredulously. “What I meant was that we could Google his name.”
“Oh! OK, I can do that,” she laughed, a bit embarrassed. She focused on her cell phone, keying in words. “Here,” she held the cell phone so he could look at it with her. “Your search – Kirilov Russia – did not match any documents,” flashed across the screen. “Nothing,” she glanced at Michael. “We gotta go there,” she added eagerly.
Michael looked at her like she had two heads.
“We’re going to Russia!” she exclaimed merrily, ignoring him.
“You can’t be serious,” he shook his head. “Russia is an enormous country.”
“Yes, I am serious,” said Anna. “And we can get away from Seth and the tribesman.” She paused, watching him. “We’re going to Russia!” she exclaimed again.
Michael remained silent, deep in thought.
“What? Don’t look at me like that,” she pouted. “You hinted first. Come on, say it!” she demanded, a grin eagerly spreading across her face.
“OK,” he finally blurted out, feeling pushed.
“Fräulein!” Anna called for the waitress so they could settle the bill.
“Visit Russia before Russia visits you,” Michael pondered as he absent-mindedly pushed aside his dinner plate.
Chapter 26
Franz’s Wirtshaus Bistro, Berlin, Germany
Thursday, September 21
8:30 p.m.
After paying for their meal, they wound their way through the boisterous crowd to the front door. Looking through the bistro’s window, Michael spotted someone running past. He turned to Anna, “Stay here.” He jogged to the front door and looked outside. He resolutely looked back and forth, but the person had vanished.
Mystified, Michael opened the bistro’s front door. Hearing a loud commotion down the street, he turned and observed a man being chased by an angry crowd. The mob’s frenzy was palatable. Just as the man was about to escape, another mob emerged from around a corner, blocking the man’s only route to escape. A blood-curdling yell sliced through the evening air, followed by others.
In a few seconds the running man was abreast with the bistro. To his own astonishment Michael suddenly recognized the desperate man. The Medjay! The tribesman who had brushed past him in Egypt, the man responsible for the death of Anna’s father, the man who had kidnapped Anna herself at knifepoint that very day.
The Medjay stopped short in front of the bistro, winded and helpless. Michael stood still, mesmerized. The Medjay was a foot away from him, within arm’s reach. Amazed by this turn of events, he realized he only needed to block the Medjay’s way and the frenzied, screaming crowd would immediately have him.
The mob was closing in on their prey, chanting excitedly, seeing their victim’s inevitable fate. The Medjay slowly turned, his eyes leveling with Michael’s and widening with recognition. Suddenly, despite the fact that Michael’s life was in danger from that same Middle Eastern warrior, he grabbed the Medjay’s tunic and abruptly pulled him inside the bistro.
The two ran to the back, zigzagging around several tables despite the indignant hollers of the raucous and drunk customers. Still holding onto the Medjay’s sleeve, Michael pulled the warrior into the kitchen. They burst through the kitchen door to the amazement of the cooks and through the back door to the outside.
Back at the front door, Anna was speechless. Her mind was confused and reeling from the scene she had just witnessed, but could not believe. Michael was helping the Medjay escape?! The roar of the bistro faded into the background as she sat down on a nearby chair.
Michael was disappointed after rushing through back door. He had imagined that it opened into an alleyway. Instead, it was a courtyard with a grassy park, circled by trees and bushes. The foliage was thick and glossy, still dripping from the day’s rain. Michael started heading in one direction, but a small glass door happened to catch his eye. He turned and raced toward it. As he neared, he realized it was propped open ever so slightly. He grabbed the handle and flung it open. Sprinting past a surprised family in raincoats waiting for their elevator, Michael headed for a glass door that looked promising. As he slammed through the doorway, he groaned when he realized that it opened into yet another courtyard. Berlin is an old city and although it has orderly streets, Michael was finding it to be filled with nooks and crannies. As he sprinted past benches and tables he could see that the courtyard opened into an alley.
Michael looked to his left and saw that the wide alley ended at another building. He turned right, deftly skirted around a small pickup truck and kept running. He instinctively looked back; the Medjay was on his heels. He turned left onto the sidewalk, not wanting to run back into the arms of the chanting, salivating mob. Relief flooded his mind when he saw they were approaching a tree-filled park. He was not sure how large it was but felt assured of disappearing into the thick stand of trees and overgrown bushes.
The dark and solemn park provided a shadowy cover for Michael and the Medjay as they sped over the wet, slick grass. The large leaves dripped rainwater, and as they brushed past the thick bushes, droplets of water exploded onto them. They raced behind an old stage and only slowed down as they cautiously exited the other side. With no one in sight, Michael headed for a break in the bushes, hoping to find an exit.
Leaving the park, they ran through a maze of interconnecting streets. During the entire run Michael remained ahead, occasionally looking back to make sure that the Medjay was still behind him. To Michael’s surprise, not only did the Medjay keep close, but also seemed to be giving him a run for his money.
Michael could hear a buzz of people so he followed the growing clamor to a busy
, lighted market area. He slowed down, merging with the crowd. Michael stopped, looking around desperately for the Medjay. The warrior had disappeared. Pleased with himself, Michael turned and slowly jogged back the way he had come.
When he reached the bistro, he found Anna waiting for him just inside the front door. Her arms were crossed and her face was filled with emotion. “You just pulled a Der Polnische Abgang Michael!” she said sternly.
“What?” Michael was a bit winded and not understanding her German. He motioned for her to come outside. The bistro had gotten even louder; the air was hot and thick to him after running so hard. He relished the cool, crisp air as he walked over to a tree and leaned against it. “What are you saying?” he asked as she approached him.
“You just pulled what we Germans call a Polish Retreat,” she replied irately. He was stretching his legs methodically. “You ran off without saying anything at all!”
He looked over at her, smiling.
“I don’t understand why you helped him,” she asked, her voice trembling. “He would have been captured and all our problems would have been solved.” She went on to grimly inform him that they were in Kreuzberg, a borough populated predominately by Turkish immigrants. Unfortunately, the Egyptian tribesman had stolen something from the wrong kind of people in the wrong place.
Michael remained silent, still focusing on his cooling muscles.
“And,” she continued crossly, “it’s cold out here!”
He continued to carefully stretch his limbs while deep in thought.
Anna looked at him solemnly, “You don’t even know why you helped him, do you?”
Michael stopped stretching and looked Anna in the eyes. “He was frightened,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t just leave him there to get lynched by that mob.”
Chapter 27
Ostbahnhof Railway Station, Berlin, Germany
Friday, September 22
4:30 a.m.
No other train station in Berlin has changed its name as often as Berlin’s Ostbahnhof. A plaque on one of the platforms catalogued the station’s names throughout its history. Originally opened in 1842, the Ostbahnhof Railway Station was located in a pretty grim section of the former East Berlin, named Friedrichshain. It was one of the city’s two main railway stations, the other being the Zoologischer Garten.
Michael and Anna’s cab pulled up to the station in the chilly, predawn hour. Retrieving their bags, they walked inside the terminal. Despite the relatively early hour, the station was crowded and noisy. The line at the cashier’s window stretched and wiggled across the enormous hall. Some passengers were loaded down with huge bags and bales, while others simply had small backpacks. As passengers navigated past clumps of baggage with their own enormous loads, a few arguments ignited. While waiting in the long line, a few cantankerous passengers started fighting. The station’s security officers hustled over to the raging passengers, resolving the conflict before it spiraled out of control.
As they got closer to the cashier’s windows, the main line divided into two independent, smaller lines. The timetable reshuffled every few minutes. When Anna approached the window, she purchased two one-way tickets to Moscow, paying in cash. After yesterday’s incident, they did not want to leave any trace and risk being found. Thankful the wait was over, Michael grabbed his duffle bag and followed Anna to the waiting room, where he was happy to collapse onto a comfortable chair and rest.
Several minutes later, a bell rang and a pleasant female voice on the PA system announced in both German and English the arrival of the next train. A few minutes later, he could hear the gnashing wheels and a loud whistle. Michael watched with bleary eyes as the timetable reshuffled itself again.
The bell rang again and the now familiar voice announced that passengers traveling in the North and Northeasterly directions should report to their platforms.
“Come on,” Anna announced happily. She stood up and gathered her belongings. Michael hoisted up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. They moved slowly but steadily with the other passengers down a corridor. Soon they found themselves on platform number three. Boys ran back and forth along the platform selling morning newspapers. Street vendors strolled past the train cars with small carts. Passengers scurried along the platform looking for the right car, some stopping by the little carts.
Anna found their train car quickly. They still had some time before the train’s departure, so Anna bought a morning newspaper from one of the boys running along the platform.
The uniformed conductor checked Michael and Anna’s ticket, wished them a pleasant journey and let them inside the car. Anna led the way and found the right compartment. Opening the door, they were surprised to find it empty. They each chose lower bunks and stowed their luggage. Finally, Anna and Michael could relax in the relative discreetness of the compartment and wait for the train’s departure. Anna opened her newspaper and read quietly for a few minutes. Suddenly, she gasped and pointed excitedly to one of the articles.
“Look! Michael! Here’s an article about the incident with the Medjay.” She looked at him sternly, “You know, the Medjay you helped to escape.”
“Huh. What does it say?”
“Well, apparently, the Medjay robbed a store.”
“Wow, robbed?” Michael whistled.
“Yeah,” she continued, putting the paper aside.
“Did anyone die?” he asked.
Anna looked annoyed, but shook her head.
“So, for stealing somebody’s stuff the Medjay would have been lynched or beaten to death,” he said quietly, maintaining his firm eye contact with her.
Anna stared back at him just as firmly.
“Either way,” Michael continued, “the punishment would not have fit the crime.”
The door slid open. An older man in an expensive suit stood glancing around the compartment. He stepped inside, rolling his elegant suitcase behind him. Shaking their hands, he introduced himself as Rolf. He lifted his suitcase onto the top shelf and sat down at the table across from Michael. His entire demeanor confirmed to them that their new companion was a wealthy man.
“So, are you going to Poland or all the way to Moscow?” he asked in English, a contagious smile on his face. As it turned out later, Rolf spoke five languages fluently, was originally from Germany and owned several hotel chains in Europe. He traveled extensively all over Europe and the Americas on business trips in his profession as a hotel entrepreneur.
Anna picked up on his German accent right away and began conversing with Rolf in German. As they chatted happily, it occurred to Michael that Anna must have been starving to speak German. For the past several days she had no choice but to speak in English with him. Michael did not mind a bit and turned his attention to look out the window at the people on the platform.
A bell rang loudly and overhead a pleasant female voice announced first in German and then in English that the train was leaving the station in five minutes. Michael watched as the people on the platform hastily bid farewell to their departing family and friends. Soon a loud whistle was heard and the train slowly started moving. The tedious sound of the train wheels and the monotonous landscape outside the window soon brought on fatigue. In no time Michael was dozing with his head pressed up against the window. He woke up at one point and despite his body wanting to stay in its position, forced himself to move to his bed. Once there he blissfully went to sleep.
The train shook Michael awake. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to realize it was half past one o’clock in the afternoon. He glanced around and realized Anna was asleep on her bed. Rolf sat quietly at the table working on a pile of some important looking documents. Michael’s stomach was aching, and as he slowly became more and more awake, he also became aware that not only had they skipped breakfast that morning, but also he had been asleep for more than seven hours.
“Excuse me, Rol
f,” Michael said, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Anna’s sleep. “Do you know where the dining car is?”
The man looked up and wearily rubbed his eyes. He checked his wristwatch. “I didn’t realize it was lunchtime,” he said, looking at Michael kindly. As he carefully stacked his paperwork he offered, “Let’s go find it.” They quietly exited the compartment and started walking.
After passing through a few cars, they arrived at the dining car. The interior was spacious and pleasant music played softly. There were few customers, so they quickly found an empty table. After ordering his meal, Rolf removed a book from his jacket’s inner pocket. He excused himself and began reading. Michael was watching the scenery passing by when he looked at Rolf’s book. He could not believe his eyes. Rolf’s book had Egypt’s Great Pyramid on the front. Surprised, Michael turned his head a little and noticed that Sir William Matthew Flinders Petrie was the book’s author. Michael stared at Rolf in disbelief: his compartment mate was interested in Egyptology. He knew the author’s name from the countless lectures on the Egyptian pyramids that he had attended. After all, Sir Flinders Petrie's 1880’s survey of the Giza Plateau, which included the Great Pyramid of Khufu, was the most detailed Egyptian study ever undertaken by a surveyor.
“I didn’t know that you were interested in ancient Egyptian history,” Michael remarked.
“Not exactly all of Egyptian history,” said Rolf, pulling the book away from his face. “Just the Great Pyramid.”
“Me too.”
Really?” Rolf put his book down as Michael nodded. “That’s interesting. Since when?”
“I’ve been fascinated with the Egyptian pyramids since I was a teenager,” said Michael.
“So it’s been a while for you then,” said Rolf, chuckling “I got interested in the Great Pyramid about five years ago after one peculiar encounter. In fact, it happened here, on this same train.”
Four Ways to Pharaoh Khufu Page 19