“But after the burial ritual, the gallery was covered with masonry and casing stones,” said Michael.
“Exactly right,” said Kirilov, his eyes shining at his understanding. “And that’s the secret: this masonry was unusual. It had the ability to pass the air, released from the pyramid’s underground, through itself. The local residents used to say that at night the air was illuminated at the foot of the pyramids in some places. The glowing air seen at the foot of the pyramids is the gas that once poisoned the tourists inside Khafre’s pyramid. In April of 1984, fifteen tourists inside the pyramid complained of eye irritation and difficulty in breathing and rushed outside. Because it happened during the daytime, no one noticed the air glow. Recently, the glow has disappeared completely. The reason is simple. The foolish keepers of the necropolis at Giza discovered some “shaky” stones in the masonry of the pyramids and decided to strengthen them. Not selectively, but all of them, including the blocks that passed bad air out of the underground chamber. In order to seal the cracks and crevices in the stone blocks, they used stainless steel fittings. When I heard the news, I was horrified. The curators of the ancient pyramids truly have no idea what they have done. By depriving the underground chamber of the inflow of fresh water and air, they have transformed the crypts into putrid foci. The ecology of the tombs is now broken.” Kirilov shook his head solemnly, “The pharaohs do not forgive those who disturb their peace.”
“We have to get into the underground chamber and restore the ecology inside of it,” said Anna, bringing Michael back from his thoughts. “If we could remove all this sand, then we could find the artificial canal leading west to Pharaoh Khufu’s burial place.”
“Yeah, if only we could get a permission to dig around here,” said Michael, looking over the vast land of sand dunes.
“Well,” said Anna. “I know what we have to do.”
“I think I know what you have in mind,” said Michael.
It was already mid-afternoon and the heat was becoming oppressive. They decided to walk toward the bedlam, into the plateau’s multitude of tourists and peddlers.
After their long walk, lunch and a couple of bottles of water each, it luckily only took them a few minutes to find a taxi. They were glad to find a driver who agreed to take them to their hotel for only sixty Egyptian pounds, a bargain considering it was a journey of about an hour at that time of day. During the ride Michael and Anna quietly discussed what they should do next.
“The stele belongs to the guardians, the Medjay, but the Egyptian heritage belongs to Egypt,” Michael spoke softly as he searched his backpack for the hotel envelope and pencil rubbing he had put in there that morning.
“But, we are not gonna make it easy for them,” said Anna, grinning. She got out her iPhone and started searching for the Egyptian Department of Antiquities address. Michael leaned forward and tapped on the driver’s shoulder, asking him to stop at a post office. After the driver turned down his haunting, electronic music and understood Michael’s request, he was willing to make the extra stop, but only for an additional ten Egyptian pounds. Michael grinned at Anna as he took another ten pounds out of his wallet. She smiled and shrugged back at him. Satisfied, the driver accepted his fee and turned his music back up, now singing along. Anna found a pen in her purse and carefully addressed the envelope as the taxi stopped and started in the Cairo traffic.
Soon, the driver pulled up to an ancient building and stopped, turning around in his seat, nodding his head and pointing to the building. As Michael took the envelope from her and started to exit the taxi, Anna smiled, saying, “Now it’s up to them to decipher the real and final resting place of Pharaoh Khufu.”
Later that evening, Anna and Michael took a Nile River dining cruise aboard a pharaoh-style barge. As they glided past Cairo’s illuminated skyline, Anna and Michael dined on Lebanese cuisine. Then they sat back, relaxed and watched the colorful belly-dancing show and the unforgettable Sufi men, who performed their tanoura spin, in keeping with Egypt’s whirling dervishes’ tradition.
Later, they walked up to the upper deck of the boat and sat there, chatting and whiling away the hours until midnight. From their seats they could look down and watch Cairo’s trendy young set dancing. Soon they were looking upward and watching the bright stars. Above them was the prominent constellation of the Big Dipper, or Big Bear as it is sometimes called, which is featured as part of the Alaskan flag. The seven stars, sparkling in the velvet black sky, were like guardian angels looking down on Anna and Michael in their journey. They laughed and joked as the cruise boat sailed toward the famous Cairo tower. They stopped speaking as it came closer into view. Shaped like the iconic ancient lotus plant of the Pharaoh’s, it was spectacularly illuminated in different shades of colors: a breathtaking masterpiece of structural art.
The next day the Egyptian Department of Antiquities got a letter in the mail. The director could not believe his eyes.
Chapter 54
The Great Pyramid, Giza Plateau, Egypt
Friday, September 29
8:45 p.m.
Almost five thousand years have passed since the pharaohs of the Fourth Dynasty walked the earth, but tonight they appeared again. Every night, as the sun sets on the bustling city of Cairo and the last gentle rays fall behind the pyramids on the Giza Plateau, the pharaohs reawaken during the magnificent Sound and Light Show held at the foot of the three enormous pyramids. Michael and Anna sat as old friends in the hushed crowd, completely immersed in the thrilling program about ancient Egypt’s history. Their eyes could hardly contain the splendid effects.
“This is incredible,” Anna whispered. Suddenly, thanks to a clever projection, the face of the Sphinx came alive and the audience could hear the words spoken by a long-dead pharaoh.
“Yeah,” Michael answered, his eyes never leaving the Sphinx. “This is amazing.”
Shortly after the show, with the dunes of the Libyan Desert disappearing into the Egyptian twilight, they walked away from the Giza Plateau along the twisting road. They repeatedly looked back as the pyramids fell into the backlit exposure, becoming simple, black triangles with rough edges: silent, black silhouettes against the red dusk sky.
Gradually they were pulled into Cairo’s vigorous, busy crowds. The myriad calls from souvenir lots, the wild honking of nearby traffic and the voices of many languages swarmed the air as they made their way through the dusty streets.
They stopped a few times to admire the little trinkets being sold, which proudly carried the names of almost all of the pharaohs that existed during all thirty dynasties. They watched as camels proudly sashayed to their stables as cars screeched and halted right up next to them. Involuntarily enveloped by the sweetish and stupefying hazes from the street hookahs, they slowly strolled past the eternally relaxed habitués relaxing on small benches outside the shops. Mesmerized, they walked deeper inside the city, unaware of their purpose and destination.
The duo strolled past tiny shops with so many trinkets, baubles and sundry items that they were literally stacked, piled and pouring out of the doorways onto the sidewalk. The merchants themselves were annoying as flies, offering their unnecessary trinkets with cloying “dear American friend” appeals and offers of their bitter Arabian coffee.
Michael and Anna continued to look back at the pyramids from time to time. Twilight obliterated the features of their surroundings and with the upward direction of the highway as its multiple-colored garland; the two biggest pyramids flickered like Christmas trees. These were entirely different pyramids without their secrets and ancient mysteries, now merely amusing accessories of the nightlife.
The last time they glanced backward, the pyramids appeared again through the tiniest opening between some buildings, as if saying goodbye. The final glimpse lasted a mere split-second, as the pyramids surrendered to the pressure of space and darkness, fading away into the impenetrable shroud of Cairo’s smog.
Michael was enchanted by this mysterious city and could not comprehend how anyone would not fall in love with this ancient land, its pyramids and its people. As he walked, he pondered the famed tales of “Thousand and One Arabian Nights.” He caught Anna’s eye, and to her delight he quoted, “He who hath not seen Cairo hath not seen the world: her soil is gold, her Nile is a marvel; her women are like the black-eyed hours of Paradise; her houses are palaces; and her air is soft, more odorous than aloes-wood, rejoicing the heart. And how can Cairo be otherwise when she is the Mother of the World?”
There was much about Egypt, Cairo in particular, that Michael had come to love. Cairo is a city full of contrary images, where it was not unusual to see the latest luxury sedan sharing the road with a donkey-drawn cart. It has a bustling public transportation system with taxis and minibuses hustling along its many streets and overpasses that swoop through the ever-moving city. Cairo even boasts a subway, the only one that exists in the Arabian world.
Cairo is a city with many traditional and filling foods. The fragrance of the streets is the shwarma, a traditional meat sandwich. Meat is skewered on a metal stick and roasted slowly on a spit, rotating in front of an open flame for hours. When it is dripping off the stick a small amount is shaved off and, together with vegetables and dressing, rolled up in a lavash flatbread. The city’s aroma is a textured world of fried corns, fruit, coffee, sweets and the heavenly evening hookahs.
Cairo is a city exploding with sounds. From the morning shout of the roosters strutting on their balconies to the discordant hubbub of a multitude of automobile horns to the ever present calls-to-prayer echoing throughout the city, Cairo is never still or silent.
Cairo is a city with unexpected color alongside the blowing desert sands, piling trash and grey, concrete buildings. It is found in the blossoming acacia plant, the brightly colored rugs on the camels and the lush greenery thriving along the Nile. The buildings constructed in English colonial style and the marvelous pyramids themselves are splashes of beauty in the Middle Eastern monotony.
Almost everything about Michael’s two visits to Egypt was now familiar to him. The famous Cairo traffic where cars dodged past families in horse-drawn carts was becoming unremarkable. He had gotten used to hearing donkeys braying, horse hoofs on the pavement as well as the man who loudly called for his friend Kasim every single night.
Egypt and its world famous pyramids had been a part of Michael’s passion for the longest part of his life. After arriving, leaving and coming back, Michael was sad to realize that the time had come for him to leave again. He knew what was ahead of him: the long security checks in the airport, the long hours in the air and the jarring immersion into western culture. Soon he would be dully riding the morning commute on the Metro-North commuter train. He was not eager to put Egypt and the Great Pyramid in his rearview mirror and head back to life as usual.
The events of the past almost two weeks had been a life-changing vacation-turned-quest. His trip had been consumed with his adventure in puzzling out Schulze’s dying words to him: to find four ways. He had raced across Egypt, Germany and Russia and back again to Egypt to uncover one of history’s long-forgotten secrets, while being chased by a fiercely skilled Medjay warrior, who seemed to be eerily resurrected from ancient times. He had witnessed first-hand things that at first had saddened him, then infuriated him, intrigued him, frightened him, bewildered him and, finally, surprised him. His endeavor to uncover one of the secrets of the Great Pyramid had come to its finale. He marveled that he had ever thought that he could uncover one of the Great Pyramids’ secrets. She was yet masked in her dark secrets and ancient mysteries.
“You know, Michael, the saying ‘we’ll meet again’ is entirely different than saying goodbye, right?” Anna suddenly asked, tears slowly escaping her beautiful, green eyes.
“Of course,” Michael replied. He reached for Anna and embraced her saying, “The pyramids will always remain in my heart.”
“I wasn’t just talking about the pyramids,” Anna said, her voice muffled against his shirt.
“Neither was I,” replied Michael, chuckling. He leaned down to plant a long kiss on her beautiful lips. “The pyramids,” said Michael, as they continued walking, their arms around each other, “helped me to encounter three remarkable people in my life. You,” he kissed Anna again, “your father and Kirilov.”
“My father helped to preserve a great discovery, and Kirilov helped the Great Pyramid expose its secret and thus prolong its immortality,” Anna spoke reverently. Michael nodded solemnly in agreement. “Blessed Kirilov,” she continued, “who never saw the Great Pyramid in person, yet dedicated his life to uncovering her secrets. They each in their own small steps made a huge leap in bringing humanity closer to uncovering one of the greatest secrets of all time. This may bring about the answers to such questions as who we are, why we are here and where we are going.”
“I think those who never visit the Great Pyramid will never know the world,” Michael replied, embracing Anna as they continued their stroll through the mysterious alleys of ancient Cairo.
Back at the hotel, Anna excused herself to take a shower. Michael took off his shoes and socks and sat down in the comfortable lounge chair. He picked up the remote, turning on the television and flipping through several channels. He watched with some amusement at the shows clicking past until he stumbled on the evening news. The announcer was reporting.
Sky News. An ancient stele, dating back at least four thousand five hundred years and bearing the seal of Pharaoh Khufu of the Fourth Dynasty, the builder of the last remaining wonder of the Ancient World, The Great Pyramid, was discovered earlier this week in Egypt.
“Anna!” Michael shouted. “Anna! You might wanna see this.”
The Minister of State for Antiquities, Dr. Mohamed Jamal, made the finding public today at The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo. The Cairo Police Department’s Inspector Setkufy Suliman accompanied him.
The bathroom door opened. Anna appeared in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her, “What happened?”
“Look at this!” Michael exclaimed, turning the volume higher and pointing to the television set.
The origin of the stele is a mystery, and its owner has asked to remain anonymous. Dr. Jamal has shown a traced copy of the stele to only a small circle of experts in Egyptology and hieroglyph linguistics, who concluded that it is most likely not a forgery. Dr. Jamal and his collaborators said they are eager for more scholars to weigh in and support their conclusions. If proven to be authentic, the discovery of such importance and magnitude could reignite the debate over whether Pharaoh Khufu was really the builder of the Great Pyramid. Until this discovery, the only justification for attributing the Great Pyramid to the Pharaoh Khufu was a stenciled cartouche bearing Pharaoh Khufu’s name, which was found in a crawl space over the King's chamber in the nineteenth century by the British Egyptologist Howard Vyse.
Dr. Jamal gave an interview and displayed the ancient stele, encased in glass, to reporters from The New York Times and The Daily Telegraph. “The discovery is sensational,” said Dr. Jamal, “because it provides further evidence that the Great Pyramid was indeed built by the Pharaoh Khufu of the Old Kingdom of the Fourth Dynasty. I can’t express enough words of gratitude toward Inspector Suliman who successfully recovered this ancient stele from the hands of organized crime.”
Cairo Police Inspector Suliman was praised in the recovery of the stele and keeping it out of the hands of smugglers of the antiquities. “One German national and three locals have been arrested as the result of the ongoing investigation,” said the Inspector. This is Sky News, reporting from Cairo, I am Mike Whitters.
“Wow,” said Michael chuckling. “Did you see that big ol’ cheesy smile on the Inspector’s face?”
“Sure, and why wouldn’t he smile?” Anna replied sarcastically. “He took all the credit for discovering the stele without even menti
oning my father’s name. He’ll probably get a promotion.”
“One day we’ll correct this injustice,” Michael said, winking at Anna. “Let the Inspector relish his fame and bask in his glory for now. Our glory days are on their way.”
Epilogue
The sun’s rays were leaking through the window drapes when the phone rang. The man sleeping under the disheveled bed sheets did not stir. The phone continued to trill like a school bell on a summer morning. Finally a sigh could be heard, followed by a hand making its way out from under the sheets and abruptly grabbing the phone.
“Yes,” the man spoke softly into the receiver.
After talking for a few minutes, the man hung up the phone. He quietly got out of bed, trying to not wake up the gorgeous naked woman lying next to him. He strolled to the bathroom and started the shower. Soon he came out, a towel wrapped around his muscular torso, and walked across the room.
He reached for the balcony door and as soon as it opened, Cairo exploded inside the room like a trumpet blast: car horns, street vendors and eager boys selling newspapers. The sleeping woman groaned and buried her head under a pillow. The man stepped out onto the balcony and leaned on the forged bars. In the following days he would be back to running for work, paying the bills and catching up. The man threw his head back with pleasure, exposing his face to the invigorating morning rays. He thought of nothing, but simply enjoyed the moment.
Soon the sounds crowding inside the room were overwhelmed by the savory smell of the morning street: freshly brewed coffee, grilled shwarma meat and the dusty aroma of sand and smoke. The enveloping sounds and smells from the street filled and penetrated every part of the room, every nook and cranny.
Four Ways to Pharaoh Khufu Page 38