The Ghost Reapers

by Jackie Ferris

  “Its gaze is directed due east to the equinox. At one time, it looked upon a temple.”

  “Was it part of some sun cult?”

  “No one is sure. It’s possible the temple was built after the Sphinx was carved. At one point this whole site was a huge necropolis. Which came first, the chicken or the egg, the bodies or the pyramid?”

  “If we knew the answer to that, most of our questions would be answered.”

  “There are a lot of clues.”

  “Like?” A spark of hope fired in her eyes.

  “There are no inscriptions on the Sphinx, just like in the so-called King’s Chamber inside the Great Pyramid. The Egyptians loved to inscribe their names and images on monuments, it helped their immortality. They believed that if someone spoke the name of a dead person they were alive. If these monuments were built by someone else, it’s possible that they were afraid to mark them. “

  Jazz sat down on the slightly damp earth, as Francisco pulled a face. “No time to rest or speculate. The first tourist buses will be pulling in shortly; soon after that the Ghost Stealer thugs will be over here like a rash. They may not know for sure where we are, but the pyramids and Sphinx are a pretty safe bet. We need to get to the hotel. We have thirty, maybe forty minutes before Akhoum gets there. He is bound to return.”

  “Then why go back?”

  “Whatever is in that last canister isn’t about the pyramid or the Sphinx. If it was, this place would be swarming with people looking for us; another reason why I wanted to come here. Something in that canister will tell us where to go. The Ghost Stealers know that but before we leave I want to hide something in the hotel room.”

  Jazz was about to argue that it was too obvious a hiding place but she decided against it as she followed him.

  Chapter Forty

  The hotel room looked the same, but everything else felt different. Jazz shivered as Francisco picked up his briefcase, aware that he had said they only had an hour when they had left the room almost two hours earlier. She glanced at the clock. It was now 7.30. “Nothing I believed about the past is true. I’m struggling with the emotional fallout if this stuff is genuine. It’s not just Christian and Jewish history that’s washed up, it’s Ancient Egyptian history too.”

  “We have no real proof.” He pulled out the final unopened canister. “I hope this is it, or at least destination endgame.”

  “What?” She grimaced.

  “Dad knew what was in it. But he could not work out the destination. It’s the only reason he put it in the bank vault. If it had given him answers he would have vindicated himself. Do you want to do the honours?” He held it out to her.

  Her hand shook as she unscrewed the top and then gently let the rolled parchment drop into her outstretched palm. She turned it first one way, then another, wondering why Francisco knew that this was some sort of map yet he had no idea what was in the other two papyri.

  “What is it?” Francisco demanded.

  “Some sort of map.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “I knew it.”

  She pulled a face. “It’s more of a diagram; there are too many shapes for a map. Here, take a look.”

  He moved closer as she passed the parchment to him, then studied the crude shapes. “It looks like someone was trying to remember a floor plan. Whoever did it was no draughtsman. The drawings around the edges look like primitive symbols.”

  “If we put it on the desk, maybe we can figure them out.”

  Francisco placed it carefully, keeping it unfurled by putting the two room card keys on either end.

  Jazz stared at the squiggles in the right hand corner. “The arcs represent a fish, an early Christian symbol used as a code for Christ by his followers when they were in hiding after his death.”

  Francisco nodded. “I’ve seen it in churches.”

  “Why use it? This document is at least a thousand years older than Christ.”

  “It did not start off life as a Christian symbol. Those squiggles on the right are the two inverted pyramids of Nefertiti’s ring, now popularly known as the Star of David.”

  “I keep thinking about the ring. Dad talked about Tutankhamun’s tomb in his letter. We should be looking in Tut’s tomb.”

  Francisco pulled a face. “Dad checked it out many times. There is nothing there, except pretty badly damaged wall paintings.” He paused, then added, “Tut’s tomb is too small for a pharaoh. It’s more like an antechamber. There could well be a tomb behind Tut’s.”

  “Nefertiti’s?”

  Francisco shrugged. “It contradicts the evidence we have in the papyri – she left Egypt. If they did bring her body back, we have no idea why. The papyri don’t mention it. Dad figured that that meant that the evidence is in a different place to her body. He spent years researching it. Nefertiti’s corpse may be in Tut’s tomb somewhere, but that’s all. The clues are in the papyri.” He pointed to three balls differing in size. “Look at those – any ideas?”

  Jazz was tempted to argue but changed her mind. “Some sort of trinity… or perhaps the pawnbroker sign? It started out with the Medici family in Lombardy; and, the Medicis had an association with the Turin Shroud.”

  ‘The house of Savoy had possession of the Shroud it was in their custody.’ He gave her a rueful look. “It’s not important; Judaeo-Christian religion did not exist when this was drawn. The three spheres are more my comfort zone. When we draw planets and stars we use circles to depict them. It could be Sirius and the other two stars. What do you suppose that is?” He pointed to the bottom left-hand corner. “It looks like it was drawn by a four-year-old.”

  Jazz peered at it. “I worked with young kids for teaching practice. They drew lions like that.”

  “The King of the Jungle, the king beast of Africa – it takes us back to Kasha. The fish could represent Nommo, the balls could be Sirius.”

  “Or a vague reference to the pyramids.” Jazz tapped her pocket as she felt her mobile bleep. She looked at Francisco. “It’ll be Jed. I should answer him. I emailed him yesterday.” She scanned the screen.

  “I checked your Twitter account; even weirder, you have not tweeted or posted anything on Facebook. Send me something, otherwise I will assume you are in trouble.”

  “Jed is worried about me.” Jazz pushed reply on her mobile.

  “I’m working on something big. I will email u soon. P.S. I am eating, not a pot noodle in sight.” She pressed send. A minute later she received a reply.

  “Glad you’re safe; don’t forget your friends, Jazz.”

  Francisco tried to catch her gaze, but couldn’t. “He must be pretty important if you have to answer him now.”

  “A friend, the relationship stops there.” Jazz wished she hadn’t been quite so emphatic, as she tried to concentrate on her reply to Jed.

  “I won’t.” She pressed “send”, then looked up.

  Francisco was staring out of the window.

  “You’re mesmerised by the pyramids.”

  He shifted his gaze from the window to her, and she immediately wished she had not courted his attention. “I was looking beyond them to what I cannot see.”

  She turned away, refusing to meet his gaze. “There are enough riddles without you making more.”

  “The diagram could be the body of the Sphinx; there are hidden passages underneath it. It could be a map of subterranean rooms, the underground labyrinth Herodotus wrote about.”

  “That would make the diagram a copy of something more than five thousand years old.”

  Francisco groaned. “Much older.”

  “You said there are no known records of how the pyramids or Sphinx were built?” Her eyes were clouded in doubt.

  His own narrowed. “Our current knowledge comes from the Greeks, who wrote about them almost two millennia after they were purportedly built. They attributed the Great Pyramid to Khufu, because of a few inscriptions.”

  “You said that he uncovered it in the sand. The inscriptions could be vandalism
from a later period.”

  Francisco rubbed his chin. “Sadly, the latest carbon dating puts the pyramids at around four thousand, five hundred years old.”

  Blood drained from her face.

  “Then why did you take me there? Why go into all that stuff about M-theory? How can you change your mind so easily? You were the one who gave me the facts.”

  He shook his head. “I have to play devil’s advocate. We can’t convince people with half-baked ideas. You were relating the Turin Shroud to the Medici’s when it was the House of Savoy; we can all make mistakes.”

  “Carbon dating is only as reliable as the arrival date of the organic matter on the rock. There is no provenance.” Embarrassment oozed from her cheeks as she wondered why he had used carbon dating to make his case with the ring. “You said there were other pyramids on the site.”

  “Opinion is divided – probably between six and eight. They are little more than piles of mud brick. It’s assumed that they were built for Khufu’s wives. Speculation as to how and why they were constructed began with the Greeks and Romans, thousands of years later.”

  “Incredible: the two most extraordinary buildings on planet earth, and no one thought to record their construction or purpose. Odd, given that the Ancient Egyptians recorded everything to ensure their immortality. If Khufu built them, he would have had his image blasted all over them.”

  “According to Egyptologists, the head on the Sphinx is supposed to be Khafre’s, Khufu’s son, who built the second pyramid.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s a bit far-fetched, even if you don’t know what we know.”

  “It’s gospel, according to Egyptian historians and archaeologists. The markings referring to Khufu in the Great Pyramid were pounced on by Egyptologists as evidence that Khufu built it. Thankfully that view is changing somewhat, even in scholarly circles. The discoverer of the hieroglyphics, Richard Howard-Vyse, was a forger, anxious to secure his immortality through spectacular discoveries.”

  “Score one to us. You said that geologists proved that the Sphinx was much older because of the water. Can’t we prove that the area represented how it was when Nommo landed and created a lake?”

  Archaeologists and geologists seldom share information – it’s a huge and elementary problem in deciphering the past.’ He shook his head. “It is impossible to prove; besides, Nommo’s body was supposed to be fish-like, not lionesque.”

  “It makes more sense than the existing idea of a site built by Egyptian pharaohs who were famed for their egotism but neglected to explain how or why they built them.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand you. I more or less regurgitated what you said. Why are you arguing?”

  “The burden of proof. We have conjecture and circumstantial evidence. But thankfully there is more -: the pyramid is located in the exact centre of the earth’s land mass.”

  Jazz did a double take. “The Egyptians couldn’t have known that. Newton didn’t know that in the 1600s when he was trying to calculate the diameter of the earth.”

  He shrugged. “There is so much perplexing data attached to the pyramid; unfortunately, it’s supposition. We can’t prove anything.”

  “Have you forgotten your own theory about the echoes and M-theory? We also have the papyri and the ring. One of the pyramids is inverted, pointing to the earth’s interior. Something is buried somewhere.”

  “The map refers to Nefertiti, not the Sphinx or the pyramid. She carried the last flare of truth out of Egypt. Lord Carnarvon knew it. He ensured that no damning artefacts were uncovered in Tutankhamun’s tomb, by having Carter remove them.”

  “You said that there were artefacts in Tut’s tomb relating to Nefertiti. This could be a diagram of the tomb. Dad could be wrong.”

  “If Nefertiti is buried there it was not by choice. She did not believe in the Egyptian afterlife. Dad checked the tomb out; whatever we are looking for isn’t there.”

  “What about Israel? She was the one who led her people out of Egypt.”

  “It’s not good provenance: the Israelites replaced her deeds with the mythical story of Moses. What little evidence remaining would be buried far away from the Israelites. We have to figure out where.”

  “I still don’t get the Moses thing. If her followers believed in her, why replace her with a man and change the story?”

  “According to legend, Moses was brought up as an Egyptian. It’s a similar story to Horus. They could have planted people in the Israelis’ camp to spin stories. There is a lot of evidence that the so-called Israelis worshipped a number of gods.”

  “This is like trying to knit a woolly jumper by committee – there are so many different strands.”

  “Nefertiti is the key.”

  “Then if the evidence isn’t in Tut’s tomb, whatever is hidden is in Amarna. The Egyptians destroyed the site, so it would be a safe place to hide the information. You said it; people go back to their roots.”

  He grinned. “Dad was right; I couldn’t do this without you. Even with his knowledge he could not make that deduction. It’s our best lead. We need to get out of here fast. We may have stayed under everyone’s radar until now, but that won’t last. I’ll call the concierge. We need a hire car.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Thirty minutes earlier

  Akhoum sucked on his cigarette. His vehicle was uncomfortable, but his head was in a worse state. He was smoking too much. It was more than twenty-four hours since he had changed his clothes.

  He was thinking about a shower and hot water cascading over him as the phone rang. “Cara, I did not expect to hear from you until lunchtime.”

  She laughed. “Remember the trace on Jazz’s phone? A friend of hers just contacted her. She emailed him back. Francisco and Jazz are at the Pyramid Hotel. They never left. Get over there.”

  “Shouldn’t I call Abdul, to let him know what is going on? We need to keep him on side for as long as possible.”

  “You’re joking. Abdul married me off to Hassid, with a little help from Alistair. This is our show, Akhoum, we’ve earned it. I’ll see you at the hotel, but follow them if they leave. I’m on my way.”

  “Okay, I will stay here. I figured they might have doubled back. The tracks Francisco laid were too obvious.”

  She laughed. “You always were a genius.”

  Akhoum’s heart thumped against his ribcage as he clicked off.

  In his office overlooking the Museum, Abdul stared at the computer screen. The script of Cara’s phone conversation to Akhoum glared back at him. He was disappointed, but not surprised. It was always a risk linking him up with Cara. She or he had decided to play it off record.

  He picked up the phone, “Rafa, get over to the Pyramid Hotel. Akhoum is on surveillance there. Don’t let him see you. Keep track of him from a safe distance if he leaves.”

  As he clicked off, he was surprised to see a call waiting.

  “Michael, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “Abdul, do not flatter me; you know as well as I do what is happening.”

  “It’s under control.”

  “It’s not about control, Abdul, this is a chance.”

  “A chance?”

  “There are many gaps in our knowledge. Nefertiti held the key to our distant and near past. Hawwa came into existence to protect her and the secrets she knew.”

  “I am aware of that, Michael.”

  “We know the Egyptians didn’t build the Great Pyramid; this is our chance to find out who did.”

  “Nommo – we all know that.”

  “We don’t know how.”

  “You don’t think this silly religious teacher can unpick it, do you?” He was incredulous.

  “She is Marcos’s daughter. He was onto something. This is our opportunity to find out what it was.”

  “And then?”

  “We make a decision. Sooner or later science, geology, astronomy and archaeology will prove the history we believe true is made up. If it wasn’t f
or the stubbornness of the Egyptian Antiquities, geology would have established that the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid are much older than they are reputed to be – the evidence is everywhere.”

  “The Jewish authorities aren’t exactly forthcoming on what is under the Temple Mount.”

  “Be reasonable, Abdul, they can hardly let archaeologists dig. There is nothing there except the tunnels which Nefertiti’s followers dug, and the Knights Templar later reopened. Some day someone will figure it out. And that day is coming sooner than you think. In the past it was easy to keep secrets. Thanks to the internet, people don’t need experts to figure things out. We can help people to understand the truth by explaining why Hawwa kept the secret. We have a chance to put the record straight. Isn’t it time we did?”

  “Do you really believe what you’ve just said, Michael?”

  “I want to believe it.”

  “What makes you think I feel the same way?”

  “You are a good man, Abdul. You understand the value of family. The secrets in our keeping have created enormous divisions. Your grandkids deserve to live in a world that is not infected by secrets.”

  “You think people will give up their gods?”

  “They have a right to know where they came from. Three thousand years ago, our gods did not exist. No one could have imagined the future, our present. Unfortunately, the most powerful organisations that were established to keep the secret are run by Americans. They understand so little of the past; they killed their indigenous people and created a new country in a little over three hundred years. They know nothing of secrets. We cannot let the secret remain under their protection. We are old men, Abdul, we can’t protect it ourselves, no matter how much we like to think we can.” He paused hoping Abdul would say something.

  An uneasy silence resonated between them. Finally, Michael filled it.

  “Abdul, wait until they uncover the evidence, then decide if it should be revealed.”