The Mystery of Queen Nefertiti

by C T Cassana

  “Let’s leave everything just as we found it,” she said. “It’s the only way to make sure that at least the things that are here will make it down to our times, and Mum will be able to find the first papyrus scroll.”

  The children put everything back in its place, checking several times to ensure that their clandestine visit would not change the course of history. They also checked carefully that they had put away the camera and all their papers in the cloth bag, and that nothing had been left behind. Finally, they got ready to return to their own time, disappointed and with empty hands. But just when Charlie was about to put his arms around his sister, she pulled away from him suddenly.

  “Wait! she exclaimed. “I’ve just had an idea!”

  . . .

  Jeff Carter had ruled out the less important medical centers to concentrate on the biggest hospitals in London. These would be where most of the really serious cases in the city would be taken care of, and it was logical to assume that the patient he was looking for would have been admitted to one of them. Focusing his search on the big hospitals greatly increased his chances of success.

  This case was proving extremely difficult, which irritated him no end. The main obstacle to getting access to the information he needed didn’t lie in having to hack the security systems of each hospital, but in the fact that someone had gone to a lot of trouble to keep the case confidential. Words like “plague”, “Yersinia pestis” or “infectious disease” didn’t seem to appear anywhere. They had to be there, in the computer system of some hospital in the city, but masked behind some ridiculous alphanumeric code that someone had invented to conceal the real name of the disease and of the patient.

  This meant that Jeff had to launch several parallel searches for other terms associated with the bubonic plague, but also with other diseases that were much more commonplace, like “insect”, “bubo”, “lymph nodes”, and “flea”, which slowed down his investigation considerably.

  While telling himself obsessively that this job warranted a bigger financial reward than usual, and that he would certainly be demanding one, he opened several tabs on the only computer he wasn’t already using. He then began searching for detailed information on the disease and on the operation of Britain’s National Health Service.

  After spending some time reading some tedious explanations of the service’s administrative organization, Jeff smiled smugly while he reached for his pen with the nibble marks and his spiral notebook with graph paper. Luckily, there was a governmental agency responsible for coordinating potential cases of contagious diseases that could pose a threat to the population, an agency that wasn’t quite so vigilant with the information on the patient or the disease, an official body that would have a security system with the same weaknesses and cracks as many others he had managed to hack into. His next objective was clear.

  . . .

  “What’s going on?” asked Charlie, still startled. “You’ve got to stop doing that, Lisa, or one day I’ll go home without you and won’t even realize. And remember, this time I wouldn’t be able to come back for you until nine years later.”

  Lisa shot him a worried look. Until then it hadn’t occurred to her that such a thing could happen, and the thought of it was not at all appealing. For her brother it would be a simple return trip all within the span of a few seconds; but if she was left behind, she would have to find a way to survive for nine years alone in an unfamiliar place and time. And that wasn’t even taking into account how they would manage to find one another once the necessary time had passed.

  “You’re right, but the thing is we can’t leave yet,” she replied. “And please, if it did ever happen, I would rather you just tell Mum and Dad I’ve run away from home and wait nine weeks to come back and get me. Any punishment they could give me would be better than being stuck God knows where for nine years.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. But don’t do it again!”

  “Fine, but it’s just that I suddenly realized that maybe the papyrus scroll and the statues aren’t here in the Institute, but maybe they’re still here in Cairo. We have to try to find some clue or we’ll lose them forever.”

  Charlie nodded, although he had no idea where they might start looking.

  “Miss Rotherwick was right when she said that it would help us a lot to familiarize ourselves with the era and the history of the time we’re visiting,” added Lisa. “If we want to do things right, we need to be better prepared.”

  “Yes, but we should have done it before we came, Lisa. Now we can’t do anything.”

  “You once said that we’re surrounded by grown-ups who know so much,” the girl went on, while she opened the folder with the information that Miss Rotherwick had given them. “Luckily, they like sharing their knowledge with us, and although I’ve usually found it a bore, now I’m glad that they do. So look, this is what we’re going to do.”

  . . .

  Monsieur Costaz was in his office trying to catch up on a backlog of paperwork. As Secretary for the Institut d’Égypte, he was responsible for ensuring that all activities, meetings and decisions related to the institute were duly documented, despite the fact this represented an almost impossible administrative and bureaucratic workload. Monsieur Costaz knew that his mission and that of the other scholars who worked at the Institute was of the utmost importance. They had all followed General Bonaparte to this godforsaken country to make great scientific discoveries, to rescue its glorious past from oblivion and to introduce advances that would turn it into a modern society. They were there to make history. It was an important mission that demanded certain sacrifices, a duty to which he was prepared to give all his heart. The only thing he simply could not bear was the thick, stifling heat that suffocated him, and made him sweat so profusely that his clothing was constantly damp.

  “You have a visitor, Monsieur Costaz,” announced his assistant, after knocking gently at his door.

  “I am not expecting anyone today,” he answered. “Who is it?”

  “It is a young woman,” said the assistant. “She has come asking for Monsieur Denon, and when I told her he was not here, she asked for you.”

  “She gave you my name?” asked Monsieur Costaz, somewhat surprised.

  “Oui, monsieur.”

  “Show her in, then.”

  The assistant left the office and returned a minute later with a young woman dressed in native garb and with her face covered. Monsieur Costaz could only see her extraordinary eyes, as bright green as two emeralds, and a hint of pale white skin. Most unusual features in these far-flung lands.

  “How may I help you?” he asked the girl without offering her a seat. “I understand you were asking for Monsieur Denon before you asked to see me.”

  “That’s right, monsieur,” she replied humbly, although she spoke in perfect French. “I have been sent by my uncle, Monsieur Yusuff. A little more than a year ago he sold Monsieur Denon some statuettes and papyrus scrolls from a tomb in the ancient city of Thebes.”

  “I know,” replied the man, who had attended the presentation that Vivant Denon had made to the group of scholars on his return from the expedition to Upper Egypt.

  “Monsieur Denon asked my uncle to inform him if he could offer him any other piece that might be of interest,” said Lisa, keeping up the deception. “That is why I was asking to speak with him.”

  “Monsieur Denon is not here.”

  “And do you know where I might find him?” asked the girl, almost pleading. “My uncle becomes very upset when his orders are not fulfilled. It is important that I find him, monsieur.”

  “I understand, but Monsieur Denon is gone.”

  Lisa stared at Monsieur Costaz in silence for a moment, trying to work out how to extract information from him on Denon’s whereabouts without raising suspicion. Up to that moment, everything had been going well; Costaz had not doubted what she’d told him, but she could not afford to be careless and slip up.

  “I must give him a message from m
y uncle, monsieur,” she said, with a tone that verged on begging. “Please tell me where I can find him.”

  “You do not understand, young lady. Monsieur Denon is not in Cairo,” replied Costaz. “He returned to France a year ago; you cannot see him, and I don’t believe your uncle will ever hear from him again. But perhaps it will please him to know that the Institut d’Égypte is always interested in acquiring pieces of ancient art, if the price he is asking is fair.”

  Lisa nodded gratefully. Now she had to find out whether, as she believed, Monsieur Denon had taken the papyrus scroll with him.

  “So then, what can your uncle offer us?” asked Monsieur Costaz.

  “My uncle is a difficult man, monsieur. He ordered me to make sure that I was speaking with the right person before I gave any details. His profession makes him extremely distrustful.”

  “Yes, I suppose that raiding tombs is not a very safe trade,” replied Costaz ironically. “And what are you required to make sure of?”

  “I must see the statues and papyrus scrolls that my uncle sold to Monsieur Denon, to ensure that we are dealing with the same people.”

  “I understand, but you will have to settle for seeing only a few of them. Monsieur Denon left behind a few objects for us to study, but he took others with him. He said they were trifles that could hardly express his gratitude for the wonders he had seen, but he took them back to Paris nevertheless.”

  Lisa tried her hardest to appear indifferent, although she felt extremely agitated. Now she knew why the second papyrus scroll had not shown up in either the British Museum or the Louvre. Monsieur Denon had taken it to France a year before the British troops had seized the collection at the Institut d’Égypte, and that was the clue that they had to follow to find it. No doubt Miss Rotherwick would know what to do with this information. The time had come to bring this meeting to an end and go back to her brother, who was waiting for her at the entrance to the building. But Monsieur Costaz had other ideas.

  “So, can you tell me what it is?” he asked. “What can your uncle offer us?”

  “Well, it is only a mummy,” said Lisa, thinking that this wouldn’t seem all that attractive.

  However, in those days a genuine mummy was a less commonplace find than it had become by the 21st century, and the mere idea of getting a hold of such a prize was highly appealing to Monsieur Costaz. This was a great opportunity that he was not prepared to let slip through his fingers.

  “The Institute will be interested to see it,” he said, trying to seem nonchalant.

  “I shall inform my uncle. Thank you for seeing me,” concluded Lisa, nodding her head and turning to leave.

  She rushed from the room without even noticing that Monsieur Costaz was following her.

  “Where can I meet with your uncle?” he asked, racing to catch up with her on the way out of the building.

  “He will come to see you,” she replied, picking up her pace.

  “When? Is he in Cairo?” insisted Costaz. “Tell him I’ll be here working. He can come see me tonight. Or better yet, I’ll go with you now to see whether the piece is of interest to us.”

  Lisa shot a sideways glance at the man and realized that he was absolutely determined to follow her. They reached the main door of the building and felt the heat of the street hit them with full force. Lisa saw Charlie waiting for her on the pavement outside with a worried expression on his face. The meeting had gone on much longer than expected; she had to end it now however she could and get this persistent man off her back.

  “I will give him your message, Monsieur, don’t worry,” she said, turning back to Costaz and taking a step toward the exit. “My uncle is outside of Cairo, a few miles away. But he will come to see you tomorrow, I can assure you.”

  Monsieur Costaz froze still for a moment, as if suddenly he had realized something. He should have known sooner; the girl’s eyes, the color of her skin, everything about her was far too strange.

  “Miles?” he asked. “You mean leagues!”

  Lisa didn’t turn back to him, but kept walking toward her brother as quickly as she could. When he saw her face, Charlie sensed that something was wrong, but he didn’t have time to react before Costaz began shouting across the street and running after them.

  “English spies! Help! Help!” he screamed.

  When she heard him Lisa ran to her brother, seized his hand and took off up a narrow side street that ran uphill to their right, pulling Charlie behind her. Monsieur Costaz followed them, struggling up the hill, unable to move his heavy body as quickly as the children. Suddenly, Charlie stopped in his tracks.

  “The bag!” he exclaimed. “I left the bag behind!”

  Lisa turned around and looked in the direction that her brother was pointing. The bag was leaning against a wall at the end of the street, right where Charlie had been waiting for her. Behind them, about ten yards away, Costaz was running and gasping, trying to catch up to them.

  “We have to go back for it!” begged Charlie, still frozen on the spot. “The cape is inside it! If someone takes it, we’ll be stuck here forever!”

  Lisa stood stock-still a moment, trying to decide what to do. Then she grabbed Charlie forcefully by the arm and continued running up the hill.

  “Run! Run as fast as you can!” she exclaimed. “We have to shake him off!”

  “But... the bag!” said Charlie, fighting against her.

  “The street is too narrow! We can’t go back down without Costaz stopping us!” she replied. “We have to get rid of him first!”

  Charlie obeyed his sister, while he struggled to control his nerves. They ran up the hill together at full speed and turned into the first lane on the right. Monsieur Costaz continued to pursue them, but was falling further and further behind. After a few minutes, the poor man had to stop and catch his breath. As soon as he had recovered, he turned the corner into the short, narrow street, which he found was completely empty. With difficulty he began running again, in the hope of catching sight of them further on. When they heard his footsteps fade into the distance, the two children came out of their hiding spot. Instead of running on and trying to find another street that would take them back to the square, Charlie and Lisa had decided to hide in the entrance to a house and wait for their pursuer to go by.

  Then they slipped stealthily back in the direction from which they had come, walking quickly and trying to make out whether the bag was where they had left it. But the curving shape of the road blocked their view; they couldn’t see the spot where the bag had been until they reached the square.

  “Please, please, please,” begged Charlie, praying that nobody had taken it.

  As she listened to him, Lisa strained to keep from being infected by her brother’s angst, and tried to recall how much time Miss Rotherwick had said they would have to recover the cape before Charlie would lose control of it forever. Was it forty-eight hours, or seventy-two hours? She scolded herself for not having paid more attention to every detail, despite the fact that Miss Rotherwick had warned them how important it was.

  They moved on together and the square in front of the Institut d’Égypte appeared before them at last. Still walking on, they both cast their eyes around the plaza until they found the exact point where Charlie had been waiting for his sister moments before. But the cloth bag was no longer there. It had simply disappeared.

  . . .

  The children were seized with panic in the square, looking around in every direction for the bag. The afternoon sun still shone brightly, blinding them and aggravating their confusion.

  Charlie shielded his eyes with his right hand. As if acting the part of a sentry, he scanned the square from one end to the other, until he caught sight of an Egyptian boy holding the bag in his hands, heading for a nearby street.

  “There!” he said, pointing across the square.

  Charlie ran furiously, preparing to snatch back his possession from the thief. Lisa followed him, praying that the cape’s powers would not be lost
now that it wasn’t in her brother’s keeping.

  “Hey, you! You with the bag!” shouted Charlie as he ran after the culprit. “Are you deaf or what?”

  The boy with the bag stopped short and turned around. At that moment, Charlie noticed that his adversary was rather taller than he was, and considerably heftier. And his expression was far from friendly.

  “What do you want?” asked the boy sharply.

  “The bag,” said Charlie, undaunted. “It’s mine.”

  “I found it. So now it’s mine.”

  Lisa approached slowly, sizing up whether it would be better to intervene in the dispute or simply snatch the bag; but the boy had a firm grip on it and his expression was clearly defiant. Neither option would be easy.

  “But I need it,” said Charlie, trying not to make this confession sound like a plea.

  “And what about me?” retorted the youth.

  Charlie took a deep breath, trying to control his rage and his desire to punch his opponent in the face. It was a shame that there was no annulus that conferred super powers on the cape owner, to assure him of victory in a fight.

  “Maybe we can exchange it with you for something,” proposed Lisa.

  “You don’t look like you have anything I’d want,” replied the boy with disdain, while opening the bag to calculate the value of its contents.

  Lisa patted down her clothes. She remembered having left the house with money in her pockets. Two five pound notes and a few coins. She couldn’t remember the exact amount, but it should have been more than enough. The young ruffian looked rather wily, so she had to tread carefully to keep from being fleeced completely. She slipped her hand into her pocket, grabbed a few coins and took them out to show them to him.

  “I’ve got money,” she said.

  The Egyptian boy looked at her hand warily and then checked inside the bag again. There was a black garment that shone in the sunlight and changed color from black to dark blue, and from dark blue to cobalt. He had never seen a fabric anything like it before, but he guessed it would be quite valuable.