by John Day
“Well, Peter had an opportunity, but barely. To get to the tomb and back again start the excavator, get in, beat Rubin to a pulp, clean up and so on would have taken at least half an hour. No! That is not possible or probable; there is no motive. I think someone or something, made him run headlong into the wall. It has to be an accident, though I have no idea how!”
Sam replied, changing the subject, “I have everything in place for you, just as you asked, so can you still do your part?”
Max thought through the situation. “We have got to bury the tomb so it will never be found; it is obvious someone has been there, so that has to be done anyway. I think we can still get the artefacts out in time and into the lorry, provided it is worth the effort. What will anyone do with the stuff, if we clear it out?”
"That is not a problem for you to worry about, expert opinion here advises we keep it, so that is what we aim to do," said Sam.
"Right, we will get it done then," said Max and ended the call.
Carla heard the gist of the conversation, and suggested the first thing was to move Rubin above ground, wrapped in bin bags and duct tape. We need room to work in the tunnel, and the air is bad enough without that awful smell. When the security patrol comes back, we will have to put him back in the tunnel until they have gone.
“Can’t we bury him in the desert?” Asked Peter.
Max replied, “You will soon need lights, to see where you are going out there, so you could be seen. The smell will bring animals that might dig him up, so we cannot risk the slight chance of discovery. No, unpleasant though it is, he stays with us. Anyway, he deserves a decent burial.”
Max used a couple of bin liners as protective clothing over his own clothes and wrapped Rubin up, and hoisted the body outside. He used sand to soak up the blood and brain matter and a shovel to scrape it up, bagging it separately.
Following directions from Max, Peter and Carla assembled the plastic drain pipe, so it ran along the tunnel floor from the chamber, vertically upwards until above ground and added a further 10 metres on top, in steel pipe. Peter cut a small hole a metre up from the bottom of the metal pipe to take the gas supply from the regulator on the gas bottle. Peter turned the gas on and lit it, so it had a strong flame inside the metal pipe and then fitted the metal and plastic pipes together.
After 10 minutes, Max found the airflow entering the pipe at the back of the tomb was particularly strong; the dust in the air caught in his torch beam was snatched away up the pipe. The hot air rising from the gentle gas flame was pulling air from below, along the pipe, so fresh air was pulled into the passage and the tomb, to replace it.
Carla checked Rubin’s camera and found just the single picture. By adjusting the brightness and contrast, she could see the under exposed image clearly enough. Her blood froze when she saw the shadow; she was still spooked like the others. Then it dawned on her how the shadow was formed, and later mentioned it to Max and Peter. Also, the fuzzy headed feeling she had earlier in the tomb was almost gone, now the air was fresh.
Carla took photos and notes while Max and Peter packed the artefacts and marked the wrapping. Then they passed the items through the enlarged hole in the wall, and stored them along one side of the tunnel.
They worked through the night until 7am on Sunday, stopping regularly for food and water. Security would be here at 8am.
Rubin’s stiff body was lowered back down into the tunnel, the above ground ventilation pipe was removed, and Peter put the stone roof slab back. He camouflaged it with sand and drove back to the main compound in the Land Cruiser, to avoid security.
Max and Carla stayed, in the sealed tomb, to carry on with the work. Peter was due to return at 9am. The air would still be quite fresh, cool and low in humidity until then.
Peter was glad to be out in the air again, for the last several hours he got more nauseous and suffered stomach cramps. A good shit will sort it, he thought. The heat was building up outside, and the air conditioning in the vehicle was not coping.
The open plain of the excavation in front of him appeared to run on into infinity, and the perfect straight lines of the excavation walls were all wavy, like he was high on some drug. Peter was halfway up the exit ramp when he lost awareness of everything.
Chapter - Trapped in the tomb.
It was gone 9am and Max and Carla were getting anxious, Peter should be back by now.
They stopped work and had a meal break. They had done as much as they could, for now. The lorry could be loaded as soon as it was available, though they knew that would have to wait until nightfall.
It was now 11am, they had both rested. The air was now getting stuffy, and Rubin was gassing a fair bit, the smell of his decomposing body was seeping into the chamber.
Max had been thinking hard about their predicament, Carla was starting to pace like a cornered animal, and self-preservation was in overdrive. Offering a cuddle to calm her was not wise in her mood.
The air in the tomb would run out very soon, followed by a long and horrible death. The tunnel would probably be discovered early Monday morning when site work started. The mission will have failed, and The Organisation would be firmly implicated in the desecration of the tomb.
The Egyptian Government would force the site to be relocated after arresting all the heads of the Company; billions of dollars were at risk. Peter is either out there waiting for them to die and then move in to clear the artefacts for profit, been caught, or was dead.
Max and Carla had no way out. The two-ton roof slab was too heavy to lift; it was nearly 2.5 metres above the tunnel floor anyway, so they had no way to reach it. The rope ladder was somewhere outside and would have been no use anyway. The sand against the edges of the roof slab prevented it from sliding so they could not even form a large crack between slabs to get air through.
Max was feeling depressed, so he suggested they both explore the tunnel entrance again; there might be something they could do.
“I don’t suppose we could blast our way out using the gas bottle,” suggested Carla.
“That might be possible if we could pack the bottle under the slab, but even if we could get it up there, apart from Rubin’s body, we don’t have anything to pack around the bottle to direct the blast upwards. Even if we did, the shock wave would blow the wall down between the tunnel and chamber choking us with dust.”
“And your better idea is?” She replied calmly. Far to calmly to be calm inside, thought Max, she is doing her best to be constructive and hold it together, I have got to come up with something.”
A quick inventory included Rubin’s archaeology tools, brushes, hammer, chisel, tape measure, callipers, small saw and the like. There was nothing, long and stiff, to use as a scaffold for a platform, enough to raise them to the underside of the stone roof.
Max had a thought. He started to climb between the two walls, feet one side hands the other. No, that will not work. He could get up there, but no hands free to work. Doing the splits was impossible; the walls were too far apart.
“Stand on my shoulders Carla, then try and chisel the centre of the stone slab, perhaps we can break it so it will fall in.” She climbed up and steadied herself against the wall. Try though she might, the hammer and chisel were far too dainty and barely scratched the 400mm thick stone.
Disheartened, she gave up.
Max had a light bulb moment he went and got Rubin’s saw and tape measure. He cut three lengths of plastic drainpipe slightly longer than the tunnel width. Then he used the hammer and chisel to cut shallow, horizontal grooves, at head height, in the soft sandstone walls. The pipes wedged in neatly on the ledge formed by the grooves, side by side, forming a weak platform. Next, he cut three more pipes, so they were like props under the horizontal pipes and set them about 400mm out from one wall.
With care, he climbed up and stood on the platform and asked for the hammer and chisel. He started cutting into the sandstone directly under the seating of the roof slab. From memory, every time they raise
d the slab, the far end inched closer to the tunnel. Cutting away the support here would be the least work.
Three hours later, the slab started to drop, and fresh air and sunlight were creeping in. Now Max had to keep cutting until it fell free.
When Max made the platform, he positioned it just under the end of the slab, and he knew that when the slab fell, he had to leap clear. It would be a sudden collapse when it came and there would be no warning.
Carla had been providing Max with water to keep him going and now fashioned two dust masks from the sleeve lining of her jacket. They both put them on. The next blow from the hammer caused the slab to fall, smashing the platform as it fell, just as Max leaped sideways to safety.
Buried in the sand and dust, they both clawed their way free into the sunlight streaming down through the opening.
Free at last!
Chapter - Empty the tomb.
Carla used Max as a ladder to climb out. She took a moment to compose herself before finding the rope ladder in the excavator and lowering it down to Max. Now he was above ground, the satellite phone registered a signal again.
He called Sam and reported everything that had happened. Sam confirmed everything was still in place for the mission; the lorry would arrive very soon. They bought a brand new one and had notified security to expect it, though, did not explain the purpose of it. The driver would leave the keys inside the front wheel, drivers’ side and get a lift back to his works. Take the loaded truck back to where you find it and park it with the refrigerator unit running, the fuel tank is full, and the temperature has been set. Call me again when you get out of there and the helicopter will meet you on the road from the plant and bring you back to your hotel in Cairo.
Max thanked Sam and closed the call. Solving the mystery about Peter would have to wait until the job was done.
Max and Carla discussed what they should do next.
They had to pull the stone roof slab out of the tunnel so they could cover it up when security arrived at 5pm. However, they only had the rope on the ladder to lift it with, and that might not be strong enough. Even if that worked, they were outside the tomb now and had nowhere to hide from security on their visit.
There was only one safe answer; they had to get strong rope and transport.
The heat was unbearable now; rivers of sweat ran down their faces turning the dust to mud streaks. Their clothes were a uniform light sand colour, but not the same as the red sandstone floor of the excavation.
They both climbed up on the excavator and drove back to the exit ramp as fast as they could. Then they would decide if they could drive to the compound or have to sneak in on foot.
Up at ground level, the open and barren landscape offered no cover for the large yellow machine; they would have to walk there in the full heat of the day.
They reached the compound 30 minutes later, utterly exhausted and parched with the early afternoon heat and dust. The only vehicles there were large contractor’s plant, so they would have to walk back carrying everything they needed. Without transport, this created a much bigger problem thought Max, they were already exhausted, and the time was extremely short for all they still had to do. In addition, once the tunnel was closed, they had nowhere to hide from the 5pm security patrol. Carla had already realised that, but without a plan, she kept quiet.
In the compound, they found a suitable coil of thick rope to lift the slab, a shovel, and a wide yard brush. Peter had their other shovels and tools in the Land Cruiser. Looking around the compound, they could see there was nothing else that could be of any use to them.
Max decided to discuss the problem of hiding from security and the time constraints, now they knew they were without transport. Its 2pm now, it will take nearer 45 minutes to get back to the ramp with all this kit. A few minutes more to get back to the tomb on the excavator, let us say an hour, tops, to get back. We have to climb down, tie on the roof slab to the excavator, pull out the slab, and move it in place. I reckon 30 minutes to get it all tidy and smooth with the yard brush. We have to get well clear of the excavation, nearly 1.3km from the tomb, up the ramp and out into the desert on foot. In our state, it is going to take over an hour or about 4.30pm, to get well clear. We might just make it!” Carla concluded, adding, “We have no alternative anyway, so we had better get moving.”
Max took the heavy rope, leaving Carla with the shovel and broom; they set of at a brisk walk back to the ramp.
Now they had drunk all the water they had carried with them, there was nothing to replace their sweat. Max was worried about Carla because she was no longer sweating and he could see from her fixed expression she was in a bad way. Sunstroke, he thought, and took the shovel and broom from her as she trudged on.
They reached the excavator and checked the time; they were running late by a few minutes. The breeze flowing through the cab as the vehicle roared across the excavation brought some relief to them both. At the tunnel entrance, Max helped Carla down from the cab, got her some water and left her to rest in the shade while he tied on the stone slab and hauled it back into position, covering the tunnel. He parked the excavator back in its original spot and tidied the area.
“Time to go Carla” called Max and he helped her up on her feet. The long walk in the blistering sun to the ramp left them so weak they crawled up it to the top.
“We have got to get well away from here,” said Carla hoarsely, “security will see us easily from their truck if we just lay here on the ground; there is no cover at all. The best I can come up with is to get beyond the heat haze and lay in a shallow dip in the sand, perhaps cover ourselves.”
Max grunted agreement as he and Carla struggled to their feet and headed into the shimmering haze. They staggered on until the road was just a shimmering thin grey line in the distance. Dropping to their knees, they sipped the warm bottled water until it was all gone, then scooped out a shallow sandy trench to lie in, banking up between them and the road. It was the only feature, apart from small rocks, in this flat, barren desert.
Carla woke up shivering; it was night-time and there was the distant sound of loud music. She raised her head to look at her watch and saw the laser light display in the sky. It was 9pm; she panicked and shook Max awake.
“We have to go! It’s 9 at night, and we have to clear the tomb.”
Max had a hard job convincing himself there was any point to all this tomb robbing, until he thought of the consequences of being caught.
They got to their feet and headed for the compound. The refrigeration truck was easy to find, the keys were there, and it started easily. The new smell of the cab upholstery raised their spirits somewhat.
They headed towards the excavation without lights, there was a thin ground mist so hopefully, this would minimise the chance being noticed. Halfway down the ramp they put the lights on and drove hard to the tunnel.
The reluctance of the excavator to start straight away now it was cold, caused them both to panic, but it eventually fired up and took just a moment to raise the roof stone.
Max used a small canvas cover from the new truck as a large bag and with Carla working the controls of the excavator, hauled the artefacts in it, above ground.
Max then demolished more of the wall between the tunnel and chamber so the wooden coffin of Nahep could be removed. It took all the strength of both Max and Carla to dislodge the stone top of the sarcophagus, and sent it crashing in pieces, on the hard sandstone floor. To reduce weight, Max removed the coffin lid so only the corpse and bottom half, needed to be moved up the tunnel, in one piece. They used two short pieces of plastic pipe as skids under the bottom half of the coffin, dragging it behind them with the rope. The lid was fixed back, and the whole coffin roped to the excavator boom, and lifted clear, straight into the back of the truck.
Rigour mortise was reducing quicker than usual in Rubin’s body because of the heat earlier in the day, and the extreme physical exertion he went through, prior to death. The relatively limp corpse made handlin
g difficult, accompanied by the vile stench and gurgling of blood and gas within the wrapping. He was also hoisted into the back of the truck.
Max and Carla checked the tomb for anything they might have missed or left behind in fading torchlight and climbed out of the hellhole for the last time.
Carla turned the truck so Max could fill in the entrance to the tunnel and tidy the area, lit by the headlights.
The roof slab and its neighbour just under the wall of the excavation were easily moved by the excavator bucket and fell into the tunnel. Max scraped surface sand from the area, backfilling the hole and consolidating with the hoe bucket. The amount of sand needed to block the hole was substantial because much of it slid off down into the tunnel.
It was now 2am, and the music and lights were winding down; they had to leave now or they might be noticed, returning to the parking area.
A final sweep with the yard broom removed all suspicious marks from the area so they could leave, confident the tomb was hidden, forever.
The drive back with lights to the ramp, and without them to the vehicle park, was uneventful, much to their relief. Now the end of the mission was near, they were both dead on their feet.
They left the truck as instructed and sneaked out onto the main road from the site. Max phoned Sam and reported in; all was well, and called for the helicopter as soon as possible. Minutes later they were on board and heading back to the Cairo hotel. The pilot had landed close by, to wait for the call to pick them up.
They slept in their clothes at the hotel, until they woke at 11am the next morning, to the sound of the satellite phone. Sam was calling to say they had found Peter Gibson. “He was found dead, out in the desert, stiff as a board. Looks like Peter had a fit or something and just kept rolling along in low gear, for miles. The Land Cruiser drove over a dune, tipped over and lay hidden until an hour ago. There will be an inquiry, but according to our man on the ground, there is nothing for us to worry about. The refrigerated truck has been taken into storage within the C.N.W.D. Corporation building, and things are being examined and catalogued as we speak. Rubin has been sorted as well, fortunately, no family issues to deal with.