Four Ways to Pharaoh Khufu

by Alexander Marmer

  Although it is one of those places everybody has heard about, El Alamein can be found only on a very detailed map. In 1942 the Germans and the Allies battled for dominance of North Africa here. The Allies won, thus taking control of the Suez Canal, much of the Middle East and the sea route from the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean. Previously a small Bedouin village, El Alamein is a resort now.

  After a three-hour trip, Michael and Anna stepped out of the taxicab. The unrelenting sun and suffocating heat nearly took their breath away. The atmosphere, mixed with beige sand, barbed wire, military vehicles and unexploded mines brought back distant memories of the World War II documentaries Michael had seen on the History channel. On one side was the vast blue expanse of the Mediterranean Sea. On the other side were the endless beige sands of the Sahara desert. World War II had ended more than seventy years ago, but the evidence of it was still everywhere.

  The museum, originally opened in 1956 to commemorate the World War II battles, was renewed and reopened in 1992. As Anna and Michael slowly walked through the cool air-conditioned halls, they admired the murals depicting the weapons, equipment and experiences of the British, Commonwealth, German and Italian forces during the conflict. A simple but enormous map display showed the troop movements during the battles of El Alamein.

  The moment they stepped outside into the courtyard, Anna and Michael were surrounded by various vehicles and large weaponry mounted on enormous stone pedestals. The vehicles and tanks appeared to be in the condition in which they were recovered from the battlefields. One truck, filled with rations of food and weapons, was discovered near the Libyan border in 1996. The driver’s decayed body was still in his seat. It was towed back, rewired and given some oil. And after sitting in the desert for over fifty years, the Ford truck started.

  Michael stopped at each tank pedestal with Anna’s father’s sketch in hand.

  After walking slowly between the pedestals for a good twenty minutes, Anna asked, “How are we going to find the stele among these relics?”

  “I told you, by reducing the size of the haystack,” answered Michael slyly. “Patience, my dear Anna, patience,” he added, quoting his favorite childhood hero, the great detective Sherlock Holmes.

  The sun beat down on them ferociously as it always did over El Alamein where the World War II soldiers fought not only their enemies, but also the inhumane heat, sand and dust conditions. Anna took a break in the shadow of one of the pedestals.

  Michael ran over to her. “Come here,” he called excitedly before jogging away.

  As she approached where he was standing, she looked at tank on the pedestal. “That’s the tank!” she exclaimed.

  “It sure is,” he replied happily.

  “Do you think the stele is under the tank?”

  “I would hope so,” replied Michael as he knelt down and peeked under the tank’s shadow. He walked around the tank, kneeling down to check under it from each possible location. “Not here,” he said each time he got up.

  Anna sighed deeply. She was starting to lose hope as the sun’s rays beat down on her burning head.

  “Eureka!” Michael exclaimed the famous exclamation attributed to the ancient Greek scholar, Archimedes. In ancient Greece, Archimedes had been tasked with finding out if the local goldsmith was secretly inserting cheap silver into his gold coins. According to the ancient story, when Archimedes stepped inside a communal bathtub filled with water, he discovered or realized the principle of mass displacing water. Having figured out the best possible way to investigate the gold coins’ purity, he leapt out of the bathtub and ran through the streets of the city naked shouting “I’ve found it! (Eureka!)”

  “What?” asked Anna, “Did you actually find it?”

  Michael had a big grin. “Our survey says … Correct! Ding! Ding! Ding!”

  “Are you kidding me or is it true?” asked Anna, losing her patience.

  Michael glanced around. “Watch,” he announced as he carefully put his hand inside the tank’s front left caterpillar wheel. He cautiously dragged out a plastic bag. Anna crouched down next to him, watching, holding her breath. Slowly he opened up the bag and removed a heavy object wrapped in a green blanket with a hotel logo on it. He carefully unwrapped it.

  Anna leaned closer as they marveled at the stone slab, sixteen inches high and eleven inches wide. They both carefully brushed their fingers against the nearly polished front side of the stele, in awe that it could easily be three thousand years old.

  The round-topped limestone stele was inscribed on the front side in shallow relief. The middle portion of the stele had a register in the shape of a rectangle. This rectangle was divided into twenty smaller squares: four rectangular rows of five squares, one on the top of another. An identical image was placed either at the beginning or the end of each row. This image depicted a person holding a stick with one of his arms outstretched, pointing to a specific direction. On each side of the bigger rectangle were images of inclining steps toward a body of bright blue water. One each side of the bigger rectangle was an image of the god of wisdom, Thoth. Thoth was depicted as a human being using his writing tools to make an inscription, its head was an ibis-stork and on top of this stork head was a half moon. The stele had a visible crack in its lower right portion that was repaired and cleaned.

  “You still have that pencil rubbing your father sent to you, right?” asked Michael, still mesmerized.

  “Of course,” she replied, pulling the bag out of her purse. Sitting in the tank’s shadow, Michael placed it over the stele. It was a perfect match.

  Michael spoke quietly, “Do you have a pencil?” Anna found a pencil in her purse and gave it to Michael. “Here, hold this down while I trace it.” Anna pressed the paper tightly against the stele as Michael made a pencil rubbing of the remainder of the image.

  “Why are you doing this?” asked Anna, slightly confused. “I mean, after all, we have the stele now.”

  “I just wanted to finish the task your father started. He probably got spooked by somebody and couldn’t finish it.”

  “Thank you, Michael,” said Anna, touched by his gesture. “My father would definitely appreciate this. The only thing I don’t understand is how he had time to make a sketch of this tank at night and in total darkness. The most puzzling thing to me is how did he get inside this courtyard at night when the museum was closed?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure he planned that in advance. He definitely was here before that night when he sneaked out of the hotel in Alexandria. He obviously made the sketch of the tank in broad daylight as you can see from the tiny details he included. That’s when he spotted the perfect hiding place for the stele. I’m guessing he didn’t know whom to trust and decided that the best course of action would be to hide it. He probably knew Fischer would make another attempt to sell it. As for the pencil rubbing, he made it the night he hid the stele. As you can see, he was in a hurry and missed some important attributes of the whole top design.”

  “Who might have spooked him here at night? I mean these artifacts are valuable historically, but nobody would try to steal them, right?”

  “Well, not here in the courtyard, but the museum has quite a few showpieces inside the building. They probably have at least one guard here at night just in case something does happen,” said Michael as he handed Anna back her pencil. He carefully wrapped the stele back in its blanket, placed it in the plastic bag and then put the entire package inside his backpack. He folded the completed pencil rubbing of the stele and tucked it inside his jeans pocket.

  As they walked toward the museum, Anna tried to imagine what it would be like to be stuck inside one of the chunks of metal during a broiling hot day like today. She could not imagine it. Even donned in just a T-shirt and skirt, she felt drops of sweat on her skin. Never mind the fact that she was constantly getting hydrated. In fact, she was just finishing up her third bottle of water. What
would happen if she were placed inside one of those war relics donned in a full military uniform complete with helmet? The only possible outcome she could imagine was a hardboiled egg.

  Back inside the chill of the museum and away from the boiling sun of the open-air courtyard, they walked back through the halls. After their long walk under the scorching sun, Anna felt relieved to be inside the coolness of the museum. They spent some more time checking out the weapons, uniforms and other artifacts of the soldiers of that era.

  When Anna and Michael walked out of the museum, their taxicab was waiting for them at the same spot. The driver even waved his hands just to be sure they would find their way back to his cab, as there were several other taxis parked by the curb. The driver happily greeted them as they climbed inside. Michael took off his backpack and set it on the floor. As they started back for Cairo, Anna leaned on Michael’s shoulder and closed her eyes. In anticipation of the three-hour drive back, Michael stretched back and closed his eyes as well.

  After about fifteen minutes, the cab stopped with a mighty jerk of the brakes. If Michael had not automatically stretched his arms out and broken their fall, they both would have easily been thrown into the front seat or worse.

  As the dust cleared, Michael looked through the windshield. For a moment thought he was seeing a ghost. Asim, the Medjay warrior, stood a few yards away. The man had the same bushy Afro hair, the same white cotton cloak and even the same tan. If Michael had not personally observed Asim getting hit by a 400-ton train inside the Moscow Metro subway, he would be certain that Asim was standing in front of him. And Asim looked too real to be a ghost. Michael glanced at Anna and saw the same expression on her face: amazement mixed with doubt.

  “Michael, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” she finally managed to whisper.

  “Well, I’ve heard that traumatic experiences can alter your perception, but is it possible we’re both seeing it?”

  “We both went through the traumatic experience, right?”

  Michael nodded. “But what about the taxi driver?” he asked as their driver opened his door, slammed it shut and started walking toward the Medjay.

  “Maybe he is a psychic,” suggested Anna.

  “Come on Anna! This guy looks too real to be a ghost, he—”

  “Oh Michael, look,” Anna interrupted him, pointing to a nearby palm tree. “There’s another one.” Another Asim emerged from behind the tree and walked to the first Asim.

  “OK, these two guys are not the ghosts of Asim,” said Michael firmly. “I mean, come on, look at them, the guy on the left is darker and at least five inches shorter than real Asim. And the guy on the right has a facial tattoo on his right cheek that Asim definitely didn’t have.” Michael absentmindedly reached up and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  “Oh good,” replied Anna. “The last thing I need to see here in Egypt is a ghost, or worse, two ghosts.”

  Michael started looking around. “It’s really hot in here.” He peered into the front seat, “The driver not only turned off the engine, but he also removed the key from the ignition.” Michael turned and tried to open his side door. “And he locked the doors!” he exclaimed nervously.

  “Maybe he stopped to see his old friends?” Anna suggested.

  “Or maybe we’re here because they want revenge for their killed tribesman, or worse, their brother.”

  “Oh, come on, you can’t be serious, how they could possibly know?”

  Anna’s door jerked open, “Out of the car!” the taxi driver commanded. Michael and Anna turned their heads to see their taxi driver with the two ferocious Medjay warriors by his side.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Anna asked angrily. “What is going on? We paid you for a round trip! If you want more money then let us know!”

  “It’s not just about the money,” said the driver, speaking normally now, sounding almost sorrowful. “I’m sorry. I’m just a middleman who needs to feed my family. They will kill me if I don’t obey them.”

  “And what now?” asked Michael, his voice rising. “They’re just gonna kidnap us and ask for a ransom? Is that what’s this is about? Hey, why don’t they men up and just say it for themselves?”

  “They don’t speak English. Sorry, you better follow them to their car, otherwise …”

  “Otherwise what?” asked Michael, furious.

  “Otherwise they will kill you and take away what you have in your backpack.”

  “Oh, OK, I see. So I guess you told them about us going to the El Alamein museum, right?” asked Anna.

  “It’s not just me. They have other informants. They’ve been following you this whole time. You are just naïve tourists who don’t even know what you are up against here.” The driver leaned into the car and warned them, whispering, “They can make you disappear just like that!” He snapped his fingers.

  Suddenly, one of the Medjay’s barked something and pulled out his crusader-type sword with his right hand. He pushed the taxi driver to the side and with his left hand grabbed Anna’s wrist, forcibly yanking her out of the vehicle. She screamed in fear as he threw her to the ground, while the other Medjay rolled her on her stomach and tied a rope tightly around her wrists. Horrified, Michael pushed himself out of the car and rushed toward Anna, knocking the driver and one of the Medjay in the process. A huge blow to his back knocked him to the ground. He grappled for several minutes with the shorter Medjay, and after a few rolls on the ground overpowered him by a few elbow blows. Claiming the victory, Michael was about to get up when the taller Medjay knocked him to the ground. He quickly found himself facing the Medjay’s sword blade pressed tightly against his neck.

  “OK, OK,” said Michael as he allowed his hands to be pulled behind his back while the other Medjay tied them tightly with a rope.

  The taller Medjay reached inside the taxicab and grabbed Michael’s backpack. After peering inside, he appeared satisfied. Then the two warriors pulled Michael and Anna off the ground and pushed them toward the bushes.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” exclaimed Anna when a vehicle came into view. “That piece of junk runs?”

  Behind the bushes was parked a 1950 Club Coupe Oldsmobile that had definitely seen better days. It obviously had been in several, terrible accidents and had holes where its original black paint had peeled off and rusted out. The smashed front bumper was tied to the body of the car with ropes.

  As Michael and Anna were pushed inside the ratty backseat of the 1950s relic, they joined a driver dressed in regular clothes, awaiting the Medjays’ instructions. Michael observed as the shorter Medjay gave their taxicab driver a wad of cash while the taller one watched. Michael quickly looked down as they strode over to the car. The shorter Medjay opened the front passenger door and sat in the front seat, Michael’s backpack in his hands. The taller Medjay opened up the back door and sat in the backseat next to Michael. He produced two small black bags and used them as blindfolds, wrapping and tying them around Michael and Anna’s heads accordingly. After he was satisfied that they could not see, he spoke sharply. The driver revved the ignition and they sped off in an unknown direction.

  Chapter 50

  Medjay Tribe, Sahara Desert, Egypt

  Wednesday, September 27

  2:25 p.m.

  Throughout his life Chief Jibade loyally followed his tribe’s ancient customs and traditions, which dated back to the glorious Old Kingdom. Increasingly he felt he violated every conceivable rule—especially in recent days.

  Chief Jibade prayed the Medjay creed over and over as he studied the sky so blue that it seemed to be painted on top of the ocher sand dunes. The September Egyptian sun still burned skin literally to the bone. Deep shadows ran along the slabs of the ancient tombs. He chanted the ancient words, “Medjay are those who defend the land of Egypt from the age-old evil. Medjay are those who learn from their mistakes. Medjay are people of des
tiny.” The words, older than the tombs, pierced the afternoon haze. He pressed his forehead against the red-hot stones, biting his wind-scorched lips until he tasted blood.

  Heavy thoughts assailed him. Although deterred by the naive and superstitious Medjay guarding the ancient places, what kept the criminals away were a fear of the gods and the horror of punishments in the afterlife. The pharaohs carved warnings to those who would rob or destroy any part of their tombs and temples, threatening severe punishment, such as being eaten by the crocodile and bitten by the poisonous snake. That was then, thought Jibade. Then the day came when the guards were let go, leaving the ancient places completely vulnerable. During those chaotic, unsupervised times, powerful organized gangs disregarded the ancient threats, looting and plundering at will.

  The Chief gazed upon the stretch of desert with the tents of his fellow tribesman. Two weeks had passed since their sacred stele was stolen. He sent his most fearless warrior to Germany, personally instructing him on how to obtain the map sent by that low life Schulze to his daughter. Four days ago his loyal warrior strangely and suddenly vanished in Moscow. As had Seth, their point of contact in Germany and Asim’s escort to Moscow. The situation seemed strange: something was not right.

  Then his old friend, Police Inspector Suliman, informed him that the real thief was not Schulze, but a different German: Fischer. His warrior had followed the wrong lead. The great Chief walked back inside his tent, sat in his chair and bowed his head on the table.

  Moments later, he heard footsteps outside. “Great Chief Jibade,” said the bodyguard. “The gods were great to us today. Our guards managed to recover our sacred stele and kidnap those who wanted to steal it.”

  “What? Where is the stele?” he asked, not sure if he was dreaming.

  The two Medjay silently walked forward and handed Michael’s backpack to the Chief. Stunned, he carefully received the backpack and pulled out the blanket wrapped object. Slowly and cautiously, he unwrapped the stele as tears of joy sprang into his eyes.