by Billy Wells
Taking a sip of the strong aromatic brew, Brian said, “The museum is sending me to your native land to search for the tomb of Usercari.”
At once, Bokar’s face reddened as if Brian had slapped him.
“What’s wrong, Bomani?”
“Based on your position at the museum, I thought you would be well acquainted with Egyptian lore. Don’t you know about the ancient curse on anyone daring to enter the sacred tomb of Usercari?”
“I’ve read all about the curse, but I’ve never been superstitious. I don’t believe in ghosts, goblins, the boogeyman, and way down the list, avenging mummies and Egyptian curses.”
Bokar stared at him in disbelief. His face reddened even more, and he barked with spit spraying from his quivering lips, “Then you are a fool, sir, and you and everyone with you will surely die because of your stupidity. Please leave my establishment. You are putting my life in peril just being here.”
“Wait a minute,” Brian stammered, pulling his wallet from the inside of his coat and placing five one-hundred-dollar bills on the desk.
Bokar’s eyes widened with fear as he glared at the open door behind Brian’s chair as if he expected something unspeakable to ravage them at any moment.
Leaning closer, he whispered in a rasp, “I can’t believe you fully understand the consequences of what you are about to do. If you did, you wouldn’t have come here in the first place. Risking your life as well as everyone connected to the dig is one thing, but my ancestors believe Usercari’s tomb is the entrance to Hell and breaking the sacred seal will bring the end of all humankind. Did you ever wonder why Usercari’s tomb is the only one not violated?”
“Look I’m not here to debate what your ancestors have believed for more than three thousand years. I know about the curse on anyone entering the tomb, but certainly, you can’t take the extinction of all mankind seriously. Usercari was only a pharaoh for about four years, and due to his brief reign, never even had a pyramid built for him. I assume his tomb is much smaller than any of the others, and that’s why no one has found it.”
Bokar stood abruptly. “You, sir, are a dead man. My ancient ancestors will never allow you to search for Usercari’s tomb, much less enter it.”
Brian rose from his chair, astonished by Bokar’s uncompromising trepidation in getting involved in the project. Placing another pile of money on the desk, he pleaded one last time for his involvement, “I was told that you are the only person who can secure me safe passage into Egypt with the authorities and provide laborers and bearers for the dig when I arrive.”
“I will not lift a finger to help you. What good is money if I won’t live to spend it?”
“How pray tell will this supposed curse be meted out? Will it be at the hands of a mummy who’s been dead for three thousand years or will Anubis, the guardian jackal, be the avenger?”
Bokar’s lips curled in a sneer, “I don’t imagine you’ll find the retribution very funny on your day of reckoning. I don’t think death will come from the hands of a mummy or Anubis, but I know it will be horrible beyond belief. It could be anything, an insidious trap, a fungus, or simply breathing the air that has become lethal from being closed up for so long.”
Looking at the pile of bills in the center of the table and hoping Bokar would change his mind if he left it there, Brian said, ”I appreciate your advice, Bomani. I know you mean well, but I suggest you forget what happened thousand of years ago and update your thinking to the twenty-first century. There is no evidence that any pharaoh’s curse is any more than folklore and legend. If you change your mind, here’s my card. My father and I will be leaving for Cairo on November 23.”
When Brian stood to leave, Bokar said, “Don’t forget your money. To take it would mean certain death. I hope my ancestors will not punish me for talking with you as it is.”
Brian grabbed up the bills and stormed out with deep frustration and disappointment etched upon his face. His last hope was with a man named Mustafa he had met in Egypt on his last dig.
The next day, Brian saw a lengthy article in the Post about Bokar’s mysterious death. The account indicated he’d been strangled the previous night only hours after they had spoken. The merchant’s wife, Nefertiti, heard a loud noise and then a scream. When she investigated, she found her husband dead on the floor behind his desk.
The authorities reported they found pieces of the front door to the shop scattered in the lobby. Robbery was ruled out as a motive since the register was full of cash and an inventory revealed that not one of the artifacts, some worth more than $500,000, was missing. Mrs. Bokar indicated her husband was a religious man who had no enemies she knew of. Consequently, she was at a complete loss as to who could have done this gruesome, premeditated act.
Suddenly a sharp knock on the door startled Brian, and after a momentary thought of impending doom at the hands of a rampaging mummy, Brian realized a mummy would not knock before entering. He would simply tear the hinges off the door like Karloff and Christopher Lee did in the old movies. Then, a gruff bark of authority from the hall further allayed his fears, “Brian Mitchum, this is the police. Open up, we need to talk.”
Brian gathered his composure and went to the door, peeked through the peephole at two figures with hats, and opened the door.
Before him, he saw two men in dark suits with stern faces both holding their badges in his face. Before he could speak, they brushed by him and surveyed the room suspiciously.
Brian muttered, belatedly, “Come in, what can I do for you.”
The taller man said in a brusque staccato, “I’m Lieutenant Jessup and this is my partner, Ben Alexander. We are investigating the murder of an artifacts dealer named Bomani Bokar. His appointment book listed you as the last person he spoke to other than his wife before someone broke down the door to his shop and strangled him. Did you meet with him yesterday about lunchtime?”
Brian stood feeling somewhat naked, as the less than friendly detectives looked him over from head to toe as if branding his image into memory. He cleared his throat and replied, “Yes, I did meet with Mr. Bokar concerning a dig I am planning with my father to Egypt.”
“Are you aware he was brutally murdered only hours after you spoke?” Alexander barked, accusingly.
“I just came across the item in today’s paper only a few minutes before you came to my door.”
“Did he seem ill at ease or seem worried about anything during your conversation?” Jessup continued, making notes on a pad.
“Actually, he was worried about my involving him in the dig. In fact, I’m sorry to say, I may be responsible for his death.”
The two detectives looked at him incredulously as if a light had come on in a dark tunnel, and Jessup finally broke the silence, “”You’re not saying you killed him, are you?”
“Certainly not. I asked Bokar…actually I begged him for his help in securing the necessary papers required by the Egyptian authorities to search for a pharaoh’s tomb, as well as supplying manpower and provisions. I even placed a substantial pile of money on his desk as a deposit.”
“Why do you say you may be responsible?” Jessup asked, not comprehending.
“Ancient legend says that anyone involved in breaking the golden seal of Usercari’s tomb will meet a violent end. There are other preposterous beliefs too ridiculous to mention, but the first premise is pretty universal.”
“Can you spell ‘Usercari’?” Alexander asked, scratching his head.
“U S E R C A R I,” Brian replied, saying each letter as distinctly as possible. He was pharaoh during the fifth dynasty, and his tomb is the only one still not discovered. Bokar warned me that his ancestors would not allow such an expedition to take place. The last thing he said was he hoped that talking to me would not lead to his death. I thought his fears were ridiculous at the time and paid them no mind since I don’t believe in curses, but it looks like he was right about the intentions of his lunatic ancestors.”
“He didn’t mention any
names specifically, did he?” Jessup asked.
“No, he said he didn’t know what form the avenger of death would take, but he said it wouldn’t be pleasant.”
“To be frank, Mr. Mitchum, Bokar had the most god-awful look of terror on his face I’ve ever seen, and believe me, I’ve seen some humdingers. Whoever killed him, scared the shit out of him.”
Brian was surprised by Jessup’s comment and wondered why he had told him something about the crime scene that was not in the newspaper.
The detectives saw the questioning look on Brian’s face, and Jessup explained, ”I’m only giving you a preview of what the Post is going to print in the evening edition. Some asshole leaked the details of the murder to the press.”
“Lieutenant Jessup, my father and I plan to leave for Egypt in three days. Am I free to go in light of what’s happened? Am I a suspect in Bokar’s murder?”
The two detectives traded looks, and the hint of a smile formed at the corner of their lips as they put away their note pads, and Jessup asked, ”Let us see your hands?”
Brian held them out, turned them over, and let the detectives get a good look at them.
“Your story jives with what Bokar’s wife already told us, and the imprints of the killer’s hands on his neck was like two catcher’s mitts squeezing a softball. He was not only strangled, but his trachea was crushed and his spinal cord severed in two places. Whoever did this, must have looked like “The Rock” or Hulk Hogan. Your hundred and seventy-five pound frame doesn’t fit the profile.”
“I appreciate your candor. I hope a mummy is not loose in Manhattan.”
“A mummy?” Jessup said, and then chuckled, “Oh, yeah. I get it. Like in the movies, a mummy protecting the tomb of the pharaoh. Very funny.”
Brian didn’t see the humor in his statement now that he was a believer.
“By the way,” Jessup said coldly, “if what Bokar said is true, the killer or killers will be coming after you and your father, won’t they?”
Brian stood before the detectives, pondering his next move. He had no doubt Bokar’s killer would be coming for them soon. In fact, he could be outside the door right now. He faced Jessup and asked for a favor, “If I move into the Marriott Marquis for the next three days, can you provide police protection for me and my dad?”
Jessup consulted Alexander for his opinion, and after he nodded his approval, he replied, “We can provide police protection until you leave the city. After that, you’re on your own. My advice for you is to buy a gun with a lot of stopping power. I’ll call you about coordinating the surveillance.”
The two detectives wished him well, and after checking the hallway before they entered it, left.
Brian called his father and told him about Bokar and his meeting with the detectives.
Trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, Angus asked, “Did you tell anyone else about the dig?”
“Not really. The only ones who know about it are Archibald and the board. I haven’t seen anyone else to tell. Look, Dad, some psychopathic maniac is on the loose, and he’ll be coming for us next. The detectives have offered us police protection if we check into the Marriott until we leave for Egypt.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
Trying to help his father see the merits of the move, Brian stretched the truth, “Lieutenant Jessup said the killer ripped Bokar’s head off just for speaking with me. What do you think he’ll do to us, the leaders of the expedition?”
“I see your point,” Angus grumbled. “I’ll pack some stuff and meet you at the Marquis in three hours. Be careful, son, I’d hate to lose you.”
When Angus returned to his apartment to pack, he sensed something odd as soon as he stepped inside the front door. Turning on the lights, he peered about the familiar interior with a foreboding scrutiny much like he had when he entered an Egyptian tomb for the first time.
Sniffing the air for clues revealed nothing. Listening for the hint of a peculiar sound, he again detected nothing unusual. Moving like someone walking on eggs, he tiptoed across the living room to the media cabinet. Opening the center drawer, he withdrew the trusty Colt 45 that had saved his life so many times in the past.
Everything in his sight seemed perfectly in place as he inched forward toward the two bedrooms down the hall. After inspecting the guest bedroom, he headed to the master suite, which was the last door on the right. Opening the door that stood ajar wider, he entered in a crouched position, wielding the firearm left and then right. An inspection of the walk-in closet and the master bath also revealed nothing out of place.
He sat on the bed and said, “My son has me all creeped out.” Then he felt something move beneath the covers, sliding from beneath his weight. A slithering mass fell from the bed into a pile at his feet. He pushed backwards and somersaulted across the king-sized bed as the cobra’s fangs sprung like a steel trap and sunk into the mattress. Bounding from the other side of the bed, Angus made a wide sweep around an armchair and fired a single shot, which blew the viper’s head off.
Afterward, he cursed at letting the anxiety of the moment cause him to put a huge hole in his expensive wall-to-wall carpet.
Just as his son had warned, someone had tried to kill him the old Egyptian way. If he had come home after some hard drinking and fell into bed as he normally did, instead of joining his son on his expedition, he’d be on his way to the cemetery.
He called Brian to warn him.
“It’s okay, Dad. The police were already here when I got home. My neighbor next door heard glass breaking in my apartment and called the cops. My place is totally trashed. Someone ripped everything to shreds.”
“Did anyone see who did it?”
“I think my next door neighbor did,” Brian responded.
“What did he say?”
“I’m afraid we’ll never know. Someone found him with his neck broken in the hall. They say the expression on his face was horrific, just like Lieutenant Jessup said Bokar looked.”
“Shit!” Angus cursed, his face reddening with rage. “This dig is more than I ever bargained for. It’s dredged up a raving maniac who’s hell-bent on killing us and anyone else we involve just like Bokar said. Don’t you think we should call it off?”
“After what happened to Bomani, who only talked with me about the expedition and would not accept any payment for providing me information, I don’t think the maniac will stop trying to kill us no matter what we do. Our only chance is to nail him when he makes another attempt on our lives. If we don’t get him now, he’ll come when we least expect it.”
“What have you gotten me into, son? All I wanted to do is go fishing on a lake and drink a few beers until I achieve unconsciousness every night.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. If I could turn back the clock, I’d do it, but it’s too late to think about that now. At least we’ll have police protection until we leave. Lieutenant Jessup has promised me.”
* * *
After three days of hiding out at the Marriott under strict surveillance by the police, Brian and Angus boarded a plane at JFK without incident. After ordering two martinis, Brian asked, “Has anything like this ever happened before on other expeditions?”
Angus thought about it and replied, “There were cases of sabotage where supplies, food, and water turned up missing. I received a number of death threats on strange parchments, some in hieroglyphics, but no one ever physically attacked us. I can’t say the same about some of the less fortunate tomb raiders. I don’t know what really happened, but tales of avenging mummies have always been the reason the locals attribute to violent deaths associated with a pharaoh’s tomb.”
“But you never took any of it seriously?” Brian asked, shaking his head.
“Not really, but those who live in that part of the world believe in all kinds of demons and ancient curses.”
“Tell me what you’ve heard.”
“Angus paused, sipped his martini, and replied, “For example, several member
s of the King Tut excavation died of mysterious maladies shortly after entering his tomb.”
“Certainly experts must have found what really killed them by now.”
“You’re right,” Angus said sucking on an olive, “and they spent an enormous amount of money and time researching it. I saw it on the history channel.”
“And what were their findings?”
“They concluded bacteria and the mold they breathed after entering the tomb killed them,” Angus recalled. “The prognosis being that air trapped inside for so long became toxic, and prolonged exposure led to their deaths.”
“At least we won’t have that problem,” Brian said, rising to leave. “Everyone entering the tomb on this dig will be wearing a gas mask.”
* * *
When Brian and Angus arrived in Cairo, a consultant of Arab descent named Mustafa met them at the airport. Brian had hired the man as a last resort to assemble a crew of bearers and laborers for the dig.
“Is everything ready for tomorrow?” Brian asked, melting in the intense heat of the blazing sun.
“The news of the mysterious deaths in your country frightened away half of the locals I hired. I had to find laborers from out of the area and double their pay.”
“Do you have enough manpower now?”
“I’m only one short of what I had originally,” Mustafa beamed.
“Good. I’d like to start digging at first light if you can arrange it. I can’t wait to get started.”
“Very good, Mr. Mitchum. We’ll be ready.”
That night as Brian, Angus, and Mustafa sat around their campfire with three massive T-bones on their plates, Brian turned to Mustafa and said solemnly, “I hope you have enough fire power around the dig tonight. As I mentioned before, I anticipate we will be attacked by a horde of lunatics hell-bent on stopping us from finding Usercari’s tomb.”
Popping a square of very rare meat between his pearly whites that glistened in the firelight, the Arab responded calmly, “Not to worry, Mr. Mitchum, we are fully prepared for such an assault. My men are…shall we say, armed to the teeth.”