by Talbot, Luke
She looked across the table and into his eyes.
“There is something we never solved. The contents of the Library were so incredible that the place itself was overlooked. Over the last few years it has been revisited, but never with the resources it fully deserved. Remember, it’s just a big empty room, now. It’s not even that interesting to look at, just a hole underground.”
Henry urged her to continue.
“Well, I don’t know how much you know about the original dig,” she explained, “but we pretty much forced our way in using a big drill.” He nodded implicitly. “OK, you know that, because the engineers were your guys, weren’t they?”
“Well, not mine, but certainly on the same payroll, yes.”
“Anyway, they cut a big hole in the wall, which has been used as the door ever since. There was talk of sealing the hole with a submarine-style hinged door, but it was easier to just move everything inside to a better location to preserve it; once the seal was broken, the environment inside the Library became environmentally unstable, open to the changing humidity of the outside world; everything was at risk, whether we closed the door again or not.”
“So if you cut a hole in the wall, where was the original, Egyptian door?”
“Exactly.” She let the word hang over the table like an unwelcome guest for several moments before continuing. “At first, before we got inside, it was something we had wondered. But inside the antechamber, all the other walls were bedrock. Only the one we drilled through had anything on the other side. Once we got inside, the contents of the Library blew us away, but even so it didn’t take long to work out that there was no obvious door.”
“So it’s never been found?”
“Not just that,” she had a sparkle in her eye. “We had so much to study from the Library and so much preservation work to undertake, it would have been scientifically irresponsible to uncover anything else before we had reasonably dealt with the initial finds first.”
“Initial finds? I thought you said you emptied the Library. What else are you expecting to uncover?”
“Think about it: if we found the Library by digging through the wall, we must have missed the main entrance, and any other rooms in between. Because of its location underground, and our searches above ground, the main entrance has to be some way off. So somewhere down there is something more than just a Library. I believe, and so did the Professor, that the Library held the main treasure trove, the hidden secrets of Amarna. But I also believe that once we find the door inside the Library, we’ll find something that Egyptologists have been trying to find for over a hundred years.”
Henry looked at her blankly, and she groaned. “You really don’t know much about this, do you?” she said rolling her eyes. “Nefertiti! The Library is part of the tomb complex of Nefertiti!”
“Incredible,” he said with genuine surprise. “So the Library is only part of an as yet unexplored tomb at Amarna, and you believe you can get inside?”
“I think that with the correct tools and equipment, we can. Do you think it’s worth a try?”
He thought for a few seconds. “I do. There’s obviously a massive difference in the two sites, in that one predates the other by a couple of hundred thousand years, and happens to be on another planet,” he laughed dryly. “However, they are also strikingly similar: they both contain the only known uses of the Aniquilus symbol, the Stickman, and they’re both ‘tombs’ underground. Finding out the secrets of how to open doors in the Library may help with Mars.” He curled his bottom lip and looked down. “And besides, it’s all we have to go on, so it’s better than sitting here doing nothing.”
Now, Gail, ask him now. Her idea to contact George had been darting in and out of her mind for hours, forming and reforming dozens of times from plausible scenarios to preposterous long-shots. Finally, in the last few minutes and moments, it had formulated into what could conceivably be described as a ‘plan’. She still had the memory stick in the envelope, but now she had a shot at something far more likely to succeed. She had one opportunity to put it into action.
“We can go to the Library,” she started. “But we’ll need unrestricted access, with machines and electronic equipment; that kind of thing is controlled by the Tourism and Antiquities Police, in conjunction with the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. It takes weeks, months, sometimes even years to get that granted, with all the necessary paperwork.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have that kind of time; and with al-Misri gone, I have no contacts there,” Henry said sadly, scratching his chin.
Gail swigged her wine and swallowed hard; deception wasn’t her forte, though perhaps the wine would help.
“I have an old friend in Cairo who can get us in, bypassing all of that red tape, for a moderate ‘donation.’” She looked over Henry’s shoulder as if in thought, before continuing. “If you send him an email, saying you need urgent access to the site and can be as generous as needs be, he should get that sorted. To make it plausible, you’ll need to pretend you’re doing some research, and need to check an inscription inside the Library.”
“Is that all I would need to tell him?” Henry asked.
“I’ll give you a picture from my tablet. You can attach that and say it relates to your studies. That should do the trick easily.”
He pondered the idea for a few moments, then nodded approvingly. “I don’t think we can reasonably wait even several days, so if it could work and he gets us in no questions asked, it’s got to be worth trying. Otherwise, I imagine they’ll just force their way in. But these guys know the importance of being discrete, so they’ll appreciate that. I’ll check it with Mallus in the morning, and we’ll get the picture on my laptop and send the email.”
She almost suggested they send it straight away, but stopped herself in time. Best not to seem too eager in case it gives me away, she thought. Instead, she finished her wine, and offered her glass to Henry for another refill.
Filling it up, he caught the twinkle in her eye and smiled, wrongly assuming it was meant for him. “What’s his name?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What was his name? This friend of yours in Cairo?”
“Oh! Sorry, I was miles away. His name is Farid Limam.”
He repeated the name to himself, as if mentally writing it down.
“Yes, but he doesn’t use the Farid much, only on official documents and such. His email address uses his nickname.”
“Which is?”
She sauntered to the bedroom, leaving the door open behind her as she came back with a pencil and small notebook. “Just like a hotel,” she joked as she waved the pencil at him, showing the NASA symbol along its edge. After jotting down the address, she passed it to him and picked up her glass once more, trying to look as relaxed as possible.
“How strange,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Her heart skipped a beat. Had the unofficial-looking email address caused an alarm bell to ring in Henry’s mind? “What’s that?” she managed to say with a smile before taking a mouthful of wine.
“How on earth does Farid give him the nickname Ben?” he said with a grin.
She breathed out in relief and swallowed the warm red wine, before returning what she hoped was an amused shrug. Internally, her mind raced as she thought of the complex chain of events that would still have to occur for her escape to be successful: getting the picture to Henry without it being scanned for encrypted messages, Henry sending the email to Ben, Ben reading the email and having the presence of mind to send it to George, George having the common sense to work out what the hell it all meant, and then being there in Amarna at the drop of a hat, armed with hopefully more than just a laptop and a pencil, to rescue her from Henry, Seth Mallus, and however many henchmen they decided to bring with them to protect their investment.
Henry looked across the table at her, the grin still painted on his face. His eyes rested for a fraction of a second too long over her shoulder at the door of her bedroom, which she h
ad forgotten to close on her way back with the pencil and notebook.
Bugger, she thought, coming back to the here-and-now with a thud. Before all of those things could happen, before the picture, the email, the unlikely common sense of her husband and the improbable rescue in Egypt, before all of that came one little thing: making a man wait for the second date.
Suddenly, in comparison, the rescue in Egypt seemed like a walk in the park.
Chapter 62
George had never seen such a surreal change in behaviour. Once the police had finished fully searching the car, and both himself and Ben, they lowered their guns and all broke out in smiles. Ben was shaking the hand of a policewoman, the only female in uniform he could see in front of the airport, who pointed to a row of parked cars behind a now-raised barrier.
Looking to his right, he saw the steady line of airport traffic diverted from the drop-off point, people inside their cars looking over at them and the tantalizingly-close entrance to the terminal. It was a miracle they were still alive, and had not been shot on sight.
While Ben parked the car, George was escorted to the entrance. They met at the revolving doors, and Ben gave him a wink before saying goodbye to the woman.
“We go way back,” he explained with a laugh. “We did our military service together!” They entered the door and followed it round until they were spat out into the air-conditioned foyer of the airport.
George shook his head. “It didn’t look like you went way back before they’d checked us out a bit, though. Doesn’t she trust you?”
“I haven’t seen her for years, and today is a special day,” Ben explained. “We got on well for the short time I was in the army, we keep in touch every now and then.”
“Did she just do us a massive favour, by letting us in?”
“Yes and no.” Ben looked up at the departures board. “I said we had to get you home, she said the only way was to swim, I said there must be a plane, she said go and check it out for yourself.”
George looked at him, then up at the departures. Everything was cancelled, with the exception of an Iberia flight to Madrid, which was boarding: it was the last flight out of Cairo.
“I can get that plane,” he said pointing at the departures list. “Then it’s easy to get to America!” He started running towards the ticket office, followed closely by Ben.
“I think I’ve changed my mind, George,” he shouted as his friend shot off. “I mean, are you sure you want to get on a plane today?”
Groups of tourists with luggage strewn around them stared as they ran past.
“Sure, why not?” George shouted back.
“Well, because…” Ben hesitated. There were words you just didn’t say in airports. “Because of the things that are happening out there.”
“You said so yourself: I need to get to the US somehow, and that isn’t going to happen if I stay here.”
He reached the Iberia ticket desk. Slamming his passport on the desk, he took a few moments to catch his breath before asking for a ticket to Madrid.
Behind the desk, the two clerks looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.
“I’m sorry, sir. There are no seats left. I can sell you a ticket for Monday; we expect full service to resume by the morning but understandably we have a backlog of passengers so all seats for the next two days are already taken. In the meantime, you will have to return to your hotel, or stay in the terminal.” She pointed to some seats behind him.
He looked around, and realised that all the seats were taken. There were even people sitting on the floor, some sitting on their luggage, and quite a few leaning against the walls. Almost all of them had looked over at George and Ben, and were now returning to their own little worlds with smiles on their faces, as if to say idiots, don’t they think we would have tried that if there had been any seats left?
Seeing the mass of people that filled the terminal, George suddenly came back to reality. “OK,” he turned to Ben. “Looks like your policewoman-buddy was right. Do you think it’s safe to go back to your place?”
“Probably,” he ventured.
“First, I need a drink, though.”
They found a café in the far corner of the terminal building, nestled between a shop and the outer wall of the airport. It was a small, discreet little outlet, quite some distance from the usual hubbub of Departures and Arrivals. But today was proving to be exceptional in many ways, and it took him ten minutes to get to the front of the queue and order their drinks. He chose a couple of cakes, too, and several minutes later they had settled on a large rectangular flower pot set into the marble floor on which they could sit and contemplate their next move.
“God, I am starving,” George said as he munched his way through both of the chocolate muffins he had bought.
Ben was flicking through messages on his phone, sipping the unfamiliarly-sized ‘Grande Cappuccino’ or whatever it was, when he suddenly gave a confused grunt.
“No way,” he said.
George didn’t reply, as his mouth was full of chocolate and coffee at the same time. Not wanting to talk with his mouth so grotesquely full, he started chewing faster to offer a reply, but Ben passed him his phone to look at instead.
On screen was an email in English.
Dear Mr Limam,
I understand that you are responsible for archaeological expeditions to the ancient Library of Akhetaten at Tell el-Amarna.
While most research to date has focussed on the texts that were found there, my main area of interest lies in the Library itself. I am particularly interested in the attached inscriptions, and would like to correlate this with the physical evidence on-site.
I would like to be able to access the Library to see some of the evidence first-hand with some special equipment I have developed. I have been led to believe that you may be able to help me with this, without having to go through all of the ‘red-tape’ of a full excavation. My equipment is extremely experimental, and my fear is that authorisation will not be forthcoming.
It is vital that I am able to present some findings to my sponsors at the end of next week; as you will appreciate, my continued research depends on this.
I will be arriving in Amarna on Saturday afternoon; while I know that this is very short notice, I would be very grateful to you if you can make the necessary arrangements.
Naturally, I will ensure you are more than compensated for any costs you may have in setting this up.
Yours Sincerely
Dr Henry Patterson
Harvard University
Department of Anthropology
George looked up from the phone. Having swallowed his muffin and coffee, he asked Ben. “Do you really do this sort of thing?”
Ben shook his head. “I haven’t been near Amarna for years, since just after the dig, in fact. I wouldn’t know how to get this guy in there to save my life!”
He took the phone back and clicked on the picture attached to the email. Studying it carefully for a few moments, he turned to George and raised an eyebrow. “And he sent a load of hieroglyphs, too.”
George glanced over and shrugged. “He’s clearly full of crap. I bet he sent this to everyone who ever went to Amarna. It may even be from the police, trying to trap you.” He thought for a second. “Come to think of it, it’s probably from that bastard Kamal, trying to get some leverage on you so that you won’t talk and spill the beans on him for what he did. He didn’t expect you to be there today, so he’s probably desperately trying to cover his tracks now.”
Ben shook his head slowly as he looked at the ancient writing. “Kamal doesn’t know who I am, George. And it seems like a pretty roundabout way of doing things. I’m sure Kamal could just silence me if he wanted to. I mean, I’m just a little guy in a big city, and accidents happen. Besides, if he was looking to cover his tracks, the last thing he would have done is to tell us there had been a cover up, and on top of that leave a clue to help find your wife.” He zoomed out on the screen and looke
d at all of the hieroglyphs at once, then re-read the letter from Dr Henry Patterson.
“That is very strange.”
“What?” George asked.
“I’m a bit out of touch with my ancient Egyptian, but that text, I am certain, is not from the Library. Firstly, it refers to the god Amun, and Ipet-Isut.”
“Ipet-Isut?”
“The great temple complex at Karnak,” Ben explained. “And secondly, it occurs to me now that there are no engravings inside the Library, save for the cartouche of Nefertiti and the Stickman.”
George thought for a second then raised an eyebrow. “You’re right, come to think of it!”
“So what is this idiot Dr Patterson from America on about? Contacting the wrong person with the wrong hieroglyphs!”
They stared at the screen in silence for almost a minute, before George’s eyes opened wide. “Could it be?” he said under his breath.
“Could it be what?”
“Forward me that email,” George said, standing up.
Ben was about to ask why but he had already gone, striding towards a couple of Internet terminals.
“Come on,” he said over his shoulder.
Ben jumped up and followed him, bringing his coffee with him.
By the time he reached his friend, the Englishman had already paid for an open session with his credit card, and was connecting to a remote computer through the Internet browser. Seconds later, a boot screen appeared, followed shortly by a whirling logo and a welcome dialogue, asking George to enter his password.
“Is that your home PC?” Ben asked, obviously impressed by the speed with which George used all the shortcuts on the keyboard and touchscreen. “Wow. You’re quick.”
George grinned. “I have to use this stuff every day; anything that makes it quicker has to be good. Plus, it looks cool,” he added with a wink. “Did you send me the picture?”
Ben obliged, forwarding the email from his mobile phone.
Seconds later, George had extracted the image and opened it. “A little app I wrote for Gail; the secret to all her translation skills,” he commented, tapping the side of his nose.