by Overton, Max
Without knowing it, Nazim drifted off into a dreamless sleep and only woke when Bashir's boot nudged him awake. He stared bleary-eyed at the Minister standing above him, illuminated in the early light, and scrambled to his feet.
"It is already past dawn. We are too late to see the morning rays."
"Sarraj and I looked while you slept. There was nothing."
"You should have woken me. You might have missed..." Nazim shook his head. "No, you are right, Minister. You did not need me."
The rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked flat bread made his mouth water, and he knuckled the sleep out of his eyes as he hurried to break his fast. As he ate and drank, he saw some of the soldiers rolling up their prayer mats from Fajr and felt a rush of guilt that he had forgotten God in his quest for riches.
Yet how can I approach Allah--the Merciful and Beneficent--with the taint of the ancient Egyptian demons on my mind? I must cleanse myself somehow .
"All right, pack and load up," Sarraj called. "Let's get moving." He crossed to the jeep and spread out the map on the bonnet. "Here is the third pylon. A day and a half perhaps. We'll descend into Esna and replenish our water and petrol, stay overnight, and then head up to the cliffs again and find the pylon tomorrow."
Bashir took Nazim aside. "This had better work," he said. "I assured Sarraj that one of these three pylons was the correct one."
"We must wait and see, Minister. There are only three known pylons or ruins on this stretch of cliffs, but perhaps there are others as yet unknown." He hid a smile at Bashir's look of frustration.
Sarraj guided the expedition inland, traversing stony desert until they reached the Edfu-Esna highway. Their speed increased on the main road and they made it to the river town in the mid-afternoon. While Captain Massri saw to the refuelling and resupply, Sarraj and Bashir repaired to a hotel to freshen up after several days roughing it.
Nazim was not invited so found a small hostelry near the army barracks for his ablutions. He was not sure he wanted to hire a bed for the night as he feared to sleep. After a thorough scrub down and change of clothing, he sought out a decent restaurant and enjoyed a good meal in good company--his own. He contemplated attending Maghrib prayers at a local mosque, but still felt tainted by thoughts of the ancient Egyptian gods, so refrained. Instead, he sought out a quiet spot beside the river and enjoyed a cigarette while the cool breeze off the river rustled the palm fronds. It was all very peaceful and Nazim slid into sleep without warning.
"You have that which is mine."
"Eh?" Nazim jerked around and saw a copper-skinned young man...no , he decided, not young--old, at least in years if not in appearance . The long stiff beard jutting from the tip of his jaw lent his features a formal, regal look, and his eyes looked as ancient as the universe. It was a few moments before Nazim realised that the man wore a dazzling white kilt, an ornate and colourful pectoral, armbands and a deep blue nemes headdress with gold ends. In his hands, the man bore a shepherd's crook and a solid gold ankh.
"Who are you?"
"You know who I am for you have seen me before. You have that which is mine. There..." The man stared at Nazim's jacket pocket, "...in your uncouth clothing."
"Y...you are Atum."
The man inclined his head in affirmation.
"Why should I give it to you?"
The ancient eyes flashed with anger. "You dare to question the gods?"
The evening was cool but Nazim felt the sweat pouring off him. "M...my god is Allah and M...Mohammed is his Prophet," he declared, feeling his heart tremble inside him.
"I forgive you your disbelief, but you ignore me at your peril. I do not seek to be your god, ignorant man. Return that which is mine, to my servant when she asks it of you, and all will yet be well."
"Your servant? Scarab?"
"Even so."
"But she is dead these three thousand years."
The god Atum opened his mouth and began to laugh. At first, the laughter was deep and booming, but rapidly deteriorated into a harsh braying.
Nazim awoke with a start and stared around him. Two young men--no more than teenagers--were pointing at him and making coarse remarks, interrupting themselves with staccato bursts of mirth. He rose to his feet and hurried off, back to the hostelry, pursued by laughter and ribald comments.
Did that happen, or was it just a dream? Either way, how do I give the golden scarab back to Scarab? Did he mean I should leave it in the tomb when we find it? Or did he mean I should give it to Dr Hanser ?
Nazim fought against sleep that night, but in the early hours of the morning, after wrestling with his conscience, he came to a decision. He dressed and left his hostel room, searching out a public telephone, and put through a call to the Luxor hotel. The receptionist on duty was quite frosty at first, and determined he was not going to rouse one of his guests at that hour, but was eventually prevailed upon to transfer his call.
"Al-Din." The lieutenant gave a loud yawn. "Who is this please?"
"Nazim Manouk. Are you awake, Jamal? This is important."
"Yes. Yes, I am awake. What is it? What's happened?"
"Listen very carefully. There is a woman in Luxor called Dr Danielle Hanser. You must get a message to her."
"Of course, Nazim. What is her address?"
"I don't know."
There was a pause. "Then how am I to contact her?"
"I don't know...wait, yes. Go to the museum and speak to the Director, Dr Karim Zewali. He knows this woman and may well know where she can be found."
"Very well, as soon as the museum opens. What is the message I am to give her?"
"Tell her...tell her I have what she seeks and I will give it into her hands. Tell her the pylon of Khepri is the one, and that we will be there tomorrow...today. She is to take extreme care because some people will stop at nothing to achieve their ends. Got it? Repeat it back to me."
"Er, you have what she seeks and will give it to her. You will be at the pylon of Khepri tomorrow..."
"Later today."
"...sorry, you will be there later today and for her to take extreme care... uh, Nazim, should we be telling her this? I thought this woman was the...er, the enemy."
"No, we have been misled. It is vital that she gets her hands on what I have. Find her, Jamal. Find her and give her the message."
"Does Minister Bashir know of this?"
"He too is misled. I will take the responsibility for this, Jamal."
Nazim hung up the telephone and returned to his room, his mind at ease for the first time since taking the golden scarab. He slept for five hours, dreamlessly, and awoke refreshed and at peace. Sarraj and Bashir met him at the army barracks and by eight o'clock they were on the road again, winding up the track that climbed the cliffs before turning off to follow the lip northward. The desert here was rocky with firm sand and for an hour they made good time--then the jeep suffered a puncture.
Sarraj swore and ordered the men to set about repairing it, which only took a few minutes. However, a few minutes later, another tyre blew out. This time it took longer to fix as the other spare tyre was itself flat and the inner tube had to be patched and laboriously reinflated using a foot pump. The colonel fretted about the time being lost, and Bashir snarled and snapped at Captain Massri, urging him to berate his men.
"There is no great urgency," Nazim said. "We know where the pylon is and we need the dawn light to verify the next step."
"And what if we have to search for it like we had to for the first one?" Sarraj asked.
"It will not be as difficult," Nazim said. "There is a distinctive outcrop of rock just south of it and another north and west. I believe it will be simple to pinpoint."
"For your sake, I hope you are right."
They reached the southern rocky outcrop at noon and drove slowly thereafter, searching for any sign of the pylon. Time passed and Captain Massri spotted another outcrop to the west.
Nazim studied the map and confirmed this was the second one. "We
have passed the pylon," he declared.
Sarraj gave him a black look and turned the vehicles around, travelling south for a while before stopping and ordering the men out to search on foot. The sun had dipped toward the west, lengthening the shadows, when a soldier raised a halloo, waving and pointing to the ground. Sarraj ran over and stood staring, his hands balled into fists by his sides.
"You've found the pylon?" Bashir asked, hurrying over.
"No." Sarraj pointed. "Tyre tracks, heading west."
"They must be ours," Bashir said. "We passed by here an hour or so ago."
"Not travelling west, you fool. Someone else has been here before us."
Bashir looked around at the desert. "It could be anyone," he said. "Why assume anything else?"
Sarraj did not answer, instead striding back to the jeep and taking out a pair of binoculars. He then looked around and clambered up onto the roof of the half-track, focussing the binoculars as he searched the western desert. After a few moments, Captain Massri climbed up beside him and, shading his eyes from the lowering sun, studied the desiccated landscape.
"There, Colonel," he murmured, pointing.
Sarraj altered his line of sight and at length nodded. "It's them."
"Who is it?" Bashir called. "What can you see?"
Sarraj and Massri jumped down, and they examined the map.
"There's nothing out there," Massri murmured.
Sarraj beckoned to the soldiers. "Who knows the area? What's out there?"
One of the men shrugged. "Jebel Shabah."
"Ghost Mountain? Not Green Mountain--Jebel Akhdar?"
"No sir."
"You've seen it? Yourself?"
"No sir. The tale I had was of a ghost guarding something."
"That's where they're heading," Sarraj said.
"Where who is heading?" Bashir complained.
Sarraj scowled at Nazim. "Somehow that woman has got ahead of us, but no matter, we can catch her. Back into the vehicles."
"Should we not find the pylon first?"
"No need. She will lead us to the tomb."
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Chapter Thirty-Five
Police swarmed around the residence of Dr Karim Zewali, precluding the possibility of any of the group approaching, with the exception of Nicholas Evans. The police would tell him nothing of what had transpired, and were reluctant to let him in, until he explained that Zewali had sent for him earlier. Messages were passed along and within minutes, Zewali appeared at the front door and welcomed him. He drew him into his study and closed the door firmly in the face of the constable on duty in the house.
"Private business," Zewali said. Turning to Nick he asked after the others.
"They're fine, but what happened here?"
"A man broke in and attempted to assault me."
Nick ran his gaze over the doctor's limbs. "You're unhurt?"
"My manservant came to my rescue, suffering a cut arm in the process. His assailant died." Zewali grunted. "Ex-army--my servant, I mean. He's been taken to hospital."
"I wish we'd known earlier," Nick said. "We were lured to a dark street and attacked by Colonel Sarraj's men. They said you were being targeted too." Nick essayed a tired smile. "No harm done, except to the enemy. The others couldn't come in of course, what with the police presence, but they asked me to ask you whether it's still on for..." He glanced at his watch, "...today."
"Are we still in any danger from Sarraj's men?"
"From the ones who attacked us, no, but if we meet him in the desert, then who knows. I'm sorry, doctor, but better you understand the risks now. If you don't want to come, I'm sure Dani will understand."
"Leaving civilians to protect Egypt's ancient treasures? I'd never forgive myself if they suffered through my cowardice."
Nick looked surprised. "You'll come then?"
"Of course. Now, I have a few things to get ready, so if we can meet at the docks at say, seven in the morning, I'll have the museum launch take us across the river."
Nick re-joined the others in the shadows beyond the reach of police lights and curious bystanders. They went back to their hotel to sleep for what remained of the night, barricaded in a single room, though it was hard to relax knowing that Hafiz's men had been sent to find Nick there and may turn up at any moment.
"I had a word with the front desk," Nick said. "Two men were here earlier but went away when they heard I was out."
"Then they could return anytime," Marc said. "Should we go somewhere else?"
"I think they'll be at a loss now that Hafiz is out of the picture. Besides, they'd now face four men and a woman warrior if they did turn up."
"Even so."
"Well, I'm not losing any sleep over it," Dani said. She stretched out on the bed and fell asleep despite the presence of her companions and the lights being on.
"I'd say she's got the right idea," Daffyd murmured.
"Are you going to sleep?" Nick asked.
"I don't think I could. Has anyone got a pack of cards?"
They sent for coffee and cigarettes, though when faced with the choice Daffyd refused the tobacco, declaring that that was one life choice he had some control over. The hours went slowly, but the four men talked and laughed together, telling stories and imagining what lay ahead of them in the desert. At six, as the dawn light slid greyly round the drawn curtains, the alarm went off, and Dani woke. She looked across at the four unkempt men sitting around the small table, the scattered cards, full ashtrays and empty coffee cups and smiled.
"Been having fun, boys? Is there any coffee left?"
Nick sent down for some more, and croissants, while Dani and the others took turns in the bathroom. A hurried breakfast later, it was time to head for the docks, where they arrived a few minutes after seven to find Zewali and Dr Hosni Maroun waiting by the museum launch.
"Sorry we're late," Nick said cheerfully. "Had a spot of bother cycling four chaps and a girl through a single bathroom. Are we all set to go? Hello Dr Maroun, good to see you again."
"Good morning, Mr Evans," Maroun said. "It appears we are to travel together."
"I asked Dr Maroun to join us," Zewali explained. "His expertise will be invaluable and his position, along with mine, will lend considerable weight to our demand that any archaeological treasures discovered remain under the aegis of the Department."
"I'm not sure that's going to influence this Colonel Sarraj," Daffyd said. "Minister Bashir's an utter rotter, and from what I've seen, Sarraj isn't any better. A detachment of police or his army superior might be more effective."
"I have notified Cairo of his involvement," Zewali said, "and informed the local police of our immediate goal. I doubt he'll try anything."
"I hope you're right," Marc said. "If you're not..." He shrugged.
Dani introduced herself and her companions to Maroun.
"Ah, you are the discoverer of the Syrian inscription. Karim has told me something of what he knows, but I hope we can discuss your findings in more detail. I am intrigued by this character called Scarab. She is Princess Beketaten, I hear..."
"Perhaps we could continue this aboard the launch," Zewali said. "I think we should be making a move."
"Speaking of moving," Marc said. "I gather the tomb is in the desert. How is getting on board a launch going to get us any further than the far shore?"
"The Khepri pylon is on the cliff top, about twenty miles south of here. I have hired two jeeps which are waiting for us on the far side. We will take the road past Madinat Habu and the Valley of the Queens, up onto the desert plateau. A few hours to the pylon and maybe half a day more to Jebel Shabat."
"Shabat? Spirit? Ghost Mountain?" Dani asked. "You're sure that's the place we're after?"
"Not completely," Zewali admitted. "But it answers the description well enough, and it has an evil reputation among the more superstitious peasants. Now, I really must insist lady and gentlemen; please board the launch. We will have ample opp
ortunity to discuss all aspects of our search."
They boarded the launch and the captain prepared to cast off for the short trip across the river, running through his last minute checks. As he was doing so, a man in a military uniform came running across the dock, waving to attract their attention.
"Oh, shit," Marc muttered. "Is Sarraj onto us already?"
"That is not an Egyptian uniform," Muammar said. "Syrian I think."
"Then it's one of bloody Bashir's men," Daffyd said. "Can we cast off before he gets here?"
"Dr Zewali!" the running man called out. "Please wait. I have an urgent message."
"We must wait," Zewali said. "It might be important."
"Perhaps it might be better if our guests remained out of sight," Maroun suggested. "This is a museum vessel, manned by museum staff. Why should it appear otherwise?"
Zewali closed the cabin door behind him and climbed over the gunwale to face the Syrian army officer as he arrived breathless on the dock.
"You are Dr Karim Zewali?"
"I am. You have a message for me?"
"Yes doctor." The man took a deep breath. "My name is Lieutenant Jamal al-Din of the Syrian Army, seconded to the staff of Under-Minister Bashir. His secretary, a Mr Nazim Manouk, asked me to pass a message on to a Dr Danielle Hanser, whom he says you know." Al-Din hesitated. "You do know Dr Hanser?"
"Yes."
"And you know where to find her?"
"It is possible I may know."
"Will you please convey to her a message?" On receiving a nod from Zewali, al-Din concentrated, obviously calling up the message he had been given from his memory. "Tell her I have what she seeks and I will give it into her hands. Tell her the pylon of Khepri is the one, and that we will be there today. She is to take extreme care because some people will stop at nothing to achieve their ends."