“Unhand him right now,” Sherif said.
The man glared back, narrowing his eyes while tightening his grip on Richard. Shouting something back in Arabic, the man made a slashing motion with his knife across the front of Richard’s shirt, slicing off the top button. Then the man motioned for all his cohorts to leave.
The moment everyone vanished outside, Sherif charged at the man before stopping short and embracing like long lost friends.
“Yousef, do you have to always make such an entrance?” Sherif asked.
Yousef chuckled as he stroked the bottom of his beard. He paused for a moment, glancing upward while he thought.
“A friendly hello hardly instills fear in the heart of someone,” Yousef said, “especially if I expect to get paid.”
“I hope you’re not counting on getting any money from me,” Sherif said. “Because if you are, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”
“You? No,” Yousef said as he pointed his dagger toward Sherif. Then Yousef redirected his blade at Richard. “But I think he might have something for me.”
“Mr. Francois doesn’t have much. Go easy on him. He’s financing this entire project with the help of the Germans.”
Richard glared at Sherif. “I thought I told you—”
“What?” Yousef said, sliding directly in front of Richard and raising his chin with the knife. “You’re working with the Germans?”
“That’s not what I said,” Richard explained. “I was merely trying to remind him that—”
“Never mind that,” Yousef said. “I don’t care who you’re working for, Mr. Francois, as long as you have money for me. Consider it a protection fee. We’ll make sure that no one robs your site.”
“But I hardly have a dollar to my name,” Richard said.
Yousef shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. I deal in many different currencies. I’ll take whatever you can give me.”
Richard eased back a few steps, away from the sharp edge. “I’ve got ten pounds I can give you.”
“That’ll suffice for the next couple of nights. But you’re going to need to bring more the next time you come back out here. Otherwise, I might have to help the bandits who attack you.”
“We’ll be ready for anyone next time, even you,” Richard said.
Sherif closed his eyes and subtly shook his head. “What he meant to say is that we’ll have to make more payments when we return.”
“In that case, I’ll look forward to working with you, Mr. Francois,” Yousef said, slapping Richard on the shoulder.
Richard nodded slowly, resigning himself to the fact that a fee would be required to keep Sherif’s friend from raiding the dig site. And without another word, Yousef exited the tent.
“I’m sorry,” Sherif said. “I should have warned you about the possibility of people like Yousef who take advantage of people who are new to digging in the Valley of the Kings. It’s somewhat of an initiation.”
Richard narrowed his eyes. “I’m more upset with the fact that you mentioned the Germans, particularly that the money came from them. Do you know what could happen to me—and Jabari, too—if they found out what we did?”
“I’m sure Jabari was careful.”
“He was and so was I. But that doesn’t make us immune to loose lips. And you’re the only person who knew before tonight. Now Yousef knows too. Who knows how many people he’ll tell.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sherif said. “I’ll handle any issues that might arise from that.”
“Unless you’re going to personally guard me every minute of the day until I leave this area, your promise means nothing. Let’s just get back to work.”
Sherif nodded and gathered all the men back inside the tent to continue working.
* * *
RICHARD RETURNED BEFORE SUNRISE with most of Sherif’s team after a long night of work. They hadn’t found anything significant, but Sherif insisted excavations—even if they have the specific location identified—can take days, if not weeks to unearth. Richard just wanted to get a few hours of sleep before taking his next group of tourists back to the Valley of the Kings later that morning.
Richard slept for two hours before a knock at his door startled him awake. He scrambled to put on his robe before shuffling across the room to see who his visitor was. Vincent Vance stood outside, hat in hand as he shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other.
“Mr. Vance, is something the matter?” Richard said after opening the door.
“I just wanted to let you know that I don’t have any clients for you this morning,” Vincent said. “And I’m not sure how many more I can steer your way after the incident with Earl Thomas.”
“There was an incident with the earl?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, lad. I know you took the earl back to the valley a couple of nights ago and you were robbed. He’s been telling everyone about it, and now there seems to be a rumor circulating among many of our clients that you’re somehow coordinating with the thieves that roam the area around the tombs.”
“That’s preposterous,” Richard said. “I would never do anything like that.”
“I would hope not, but how people perceive you unfortunately becomes the truth. If I can’t manage to get you anymore work in the next two days, I’m afraid I’m going to have to dismiss you. And that means your room will no longer be paid for.”
“But I hardly have any money.”
“I’ll pay you what you’re owed, but I don’t think you’re a good fit for Thomas Cook & Son. You’re too reckless.”
Hard lines creased Richard’s brow. “People come here for good stories and adventure—and that’s what I’ve given them. The only ones reckless here were the tourists themselves. Who knows what would’ve happened with another guide.”
Vincent shrugged. “We’ll never know because oddly enough no other employee had a similar situation arise. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back downstairs so I can coordinate with some of the employees who have booked trips this morning.”
Before leaving, Vincent stooped down and picked up a letter that someone slid beneath the door.
“Good day, Mr. Franklin.”
“It’s—” Richard stopped and sighed as he watched Vincent leave. It didn’t matter anymore. Vincent had obviously made up his mind.
Richard shut the door and then shuffled across the floor. Picking up his change purse, he peered inside, concluding that it was far lighter than it needed it to be. Between the few dollars he had and what remained from the heist on the Reichswehr unit’s safe, Richard realized his time was limited. He couldn’t afford to hire Sherif’s men for another week, much less stay at the Winter Palace Hotel after Thomas Cook & Son stopped paying for his room. The feeling he had was similar to the one he had in Monaco when he dove off the cliffs—terrified of the unknown but excited to see how everything would unfold. Even if everything didn’t fall his way, he concluded he’d have a good story to write about the time he tried to dig up an Egyptian king’s tomb.
Got to find the silver lining.
Richard glanced down at the envelope in his hand. Mr. Francois was scrawled across the front.
“Meet me at the bazaar across the street at 9 o’clock ~ Jabari”
Richard placed the note on his bed stand and then set his alarm. He crawled back underneath the covers to catch another half hour of sleep before paying Jabari a visit.
* * *
RICHARD HUSTLED ACROSS the street in front of the hotel, dodging a car and a horse-drawn carriage as they passed each other. He picked up a copy of the Cairo newspaper and tucked it beneath his arm before ducking into the market. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, and vendors waved warm breakfast food in front of his nose as he walked by them. After casually strolling through the bazaar for a few minutes, Richard stopped when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned to see Jabari, who nudged Richard into a nearby jewelry store.
Colorful beads sh
immered on the wall and hung from the roof. Richard and Jabari navigated through the tight shop and found a place to chat behind a tall display in the center of the store.
“What’s so important?” Richard asked.
“Wilhelm is officially upset at the amount of time it’s taking for us to find the tomb,” Jabari said.
“This isn’t about the money?”
“No, that took care of itself.”
Richard cocked his head to one side. “No one’s found out yet?”
“I framed the guard,” Jabari said. “I took some of the money and stashed it in his room and later went back and unlocked the safe. Wilhelm demanded every man’s quarters be searched—and the soldier who reported that someone was rummaging around in the room with the vault was found with the money in his possession. Of course, some of it was missing, which was what Wilhelm needed to hear to let his imagination run wild.”
“Where’s that soldier now?”
“The bottom of the Nile, according to one conversation I overheard between two soldiers.”
“Wilhelm will do that to us if he catches us, won’t he?”
Jabari nodded. “And that’s why you need to get Sherif to work more quickly. Hire more men if you have to. Because if you don’t, we’re both going to be in trouble. And my entire family is at risk.”
“I don’t have any more money,” Richard said.
“What about from your job?”
“As of the end of this week, I’ll no longer be employed by Thomas Cook & Son. Apparently, no one wants me to lead them back to the valley after the rumors that were spread about me.”
“Rumors?”
“The earl who promised to pay me but was robbed is telling everyone I’m working with the thieves. And I can only take that to mean that he has no intention of paying me later.”
“Then see if you can convince some men to work off the prospect of uncovering the treasure. Because if you don’t, Wilhelm will visit your site and take it over once he sees you.”
“That can’t happen.”
“I know,” Jabari said, nodding knowingly, “for both our sake’s.”
“And for the sake of peace.”
Chapter 30
RICHARD ATE BREAKFAST at the hotel before stealing down the street to Sherif’s mercantile. They debriefed about the previous night’s dig along with the encounter with Yousef. Sherif promised to handle the scoundrel if he returned to the site. Satisfied that Sherif would keep his word, Richard moved on to the most pressing matter.
“I know that everyone worked hard last night, but we need help,” Richard said. “If we can’t find access to the tomb quickly, we are in grave danger.”
“The Germans?” Sherif asked.
Richard nodded. “They’re growing restless with Jabari’s interpretation of the map. He seems to think they’ll attempt to take over our site if they don’t find what they’re looking for soon. We need to make the discovery quickly to halt any rumors before they start about what we’ve been looking for.”
“The truth will eventually come out.”
“Of course it will. But if we’re the ones who make the discovery, the Germans won’t be able to raid the tomb. It will be under the protection of the Egyptian Antiquities Society, not to mention the Medjay. The Reichswehr will be forced to leave the area for fear of further sanctions if they make a brazen attempt to steal the king’s treasure. It would be an obvious breach of the Treaty of Versailles.”
“While I agree with you, convincing men to work with only the hope of getting paid won’t be easy.”
“Can you help me?” Richard asked. “I want to go back this morning, and I was hoping to take some men with me.”
Sherif grunted and paced around the room. “If I do this for you, I’m going to need more compensation.”
“What if I let you help someone else discover the tomb with the promise of a percentage of the profits?”
“I’m listening.”
“While I wouldn’t mind taking credit for this discovery, I can’t,” Richard said. “This was Dr. Thurston Miller’s life work, and I would prefer that he get some of the credit along with a real archeologist who continued on Dr. Miller’s quest.”
“And what do I get out of this deal?”
“I’ll make sure that you’re on the team that excavates this tomb, consistent work for several years—and you’ll be placed in charge of managing all the workers with a hefty salary that you’ll name.”
Sherif smiled. “I like the sound of this.”
“And it will forever solidify you as the preeminent authority here in Egypt among the excavators. You’ll never have to open this store again.”
“But I love my store,” Sherif said.
“Then keep it knowing that you don’t have to.”
Sherif thought for a moment and then nodded his head. “Okay, I’ll help you. I know about a dozen men who are also skilled but out of work.”
“How long do you think you can get them to dig simply with the promise of getting paid for their services?” Richard asked.
“A week, maybe two at the most.”
“We don’t have that much time anyway, so see if you can convince them to join our venture.”
“I’ll go see them right now.”
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, Richard was gliding across the Nile on a ferry with the dozen men Sherif lassoed into digging in the valley. Aside from one of the men named Omar, they were all relatively quiet. However, Omar made up for everyone with his incessant chatter. Richard deduced that Omar had just grasped enough of the English language to carry on a conversation and seemed determined to hold one with anyone who would listen.
“What is it we search for, Mr. Francois?” Omar asked.
“A king’s treasure, hidden in a tomb,” Richard said. “Did Sherif not tell you?”
“He told us to work for him or he would hurt our families.”
Richard furrowed his brow. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”
Omar nodded. “I think that’s how you say it.”
“Did he say that if you worked for him it would help your families?”
Omar looked up, scanning the blue skies with his eyes. “Maybe I am not saying the right word. Is hurt when you do something nice for someone?”
“No, that’s help.”
“Okay, he said he would help us if we helped you.”
Richard winced. “Are you sure he said he would help you if you helped me or hurt me?”
“My head hurts,” Omar said. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Richard felt uneasy about his conversation with Omar.
Perhaps there’s a reason why everyone is being quiet. They’re going to attack me and leave me for dead in the desert.
The thought wasn’t a pleasant one, but Richard couldn’t shake it. While Jabari sang Sherif’s praises, Richard was never certain he could fully trust Sherif. All Richard could think about was the possibility that Omar’s translation was twisted. And all of it made Richard wonder if he was about to get blindsided by the man supposedly helping him.
Money makes people do crazy things.
At least, that’s what his father always told him. Despite Richard’s appetite for luxury, he adapted that same perspective for himself, seeing money as a means to accomplish goals. He never wanted money for the sake of simply having it. There always had to be a purpose for it. And he only wanted more at the moment to afford a team willing to work around the clock to excavate the site. But Sherif? Richard wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Sherif absconded with every last shilling.
Richard couldn’t waste time wringing his hands over something that might or might not happen. Any fallout from that was minor compared to the Germans finding the tomb first, keeping Richard focused on his priorities.
Find the tomb. Find the tomb. Find the tomb.
Richard’s team scratched at the sand and dug deep in surprisingly quick fashion. According to Dr. Miller’s estimati
ons, the entrance to the tomb was buried about six feet beneath the surface. He believed there would be steps leading to a secret entrance. Dr. Miller proffered forth a theory that Tutankhamun actually faked his own death, escaping out of his sarcophagus and fleeing Egypt where he could live a normal life. Richard hadn’t learned enough about the life of Tutankhamun to accept or reject Dr. Miller’s notion. Such a ploy seemed unlikely for a young boy, but he could’ve had help from some advisors or even a power-hungry relative who was in line to ascend to the throne. The idea was fascinating to think about, though Richard wondered if Dr. Miller was simply conjuring up a fanciful idea that fit more firmly in the world of fiction than fact.
Three hours into the shift, one man started yelling excitedly in Arabic and gesturing for Richard. He dropped his spade and crawled down into the hole the man had dug that had already reached a depth of more than six feet.
“What is it?” Richard asked.
Omar hustled over to translate, while the man continued speaking.
“He said it looks like a step,” Omar said.
Richard’s eyes widened as his mind wandered with the possibilities. He didn’t move from his spot perched on the surface above where several men were digging away. No more than another minute went by before the men started shouting again.
“It’s another step,” Omar said.
Over the next hour and a half, the crew worked furiously to remove the sand covering the steps. When they were finished, what remained was a door no taller than five feet.
“It’s the perfect size for a young boy,” Richard said.
“That’s what I think,” Omar said. “This is unlike anything I ever saw working in the Valley of the Kings.”
“What do you mean by that?” Richard asked.
“Entrances are grand and ornate, but this one is simple.”
Richard nodded. While giving tours among the tombs, he had seen enough of them to know that Omar was right. Highly skilled artists’ renderings decorated the corridors leading into the tombs. Carvings and treasures adorned the walls and ceilings. But this entryway was almost natural looking, crafted from the rock wall, perhaps in an effort to be hidden in plain sight.
The Secret of the King's Tomb Page 17
