‘OK,’ he said, ‘you obviously know what it means, spill the beans.’
‘You tell him,’ said India.
‘As India has already pointed out,’ said Rashid, ‘Egypt lives and dies by the actions of the Nile. Every year the inundation brought a deluge of mud that lay across all the lowlands that border the river. When the river was high, thousands of square miles of farmland was covered by this fertile mud and crops subsequently flourished, filling the granaries and fruit stores from the cataracts to the Mediterranean. When crops were good, beef herds grew in size and the kings became rich. They could afford to raise armies and take on their neighbours in warfare. When the waters were high, especially when they were high for several years in a row, nobody went hungry.
‘However, some years the Nile didn’t rise,’ he continued. ‘These were the years when the crops failed and cattle died. People went hungry and often there was internal conflict and uprisings. Oh, the royal families and the priests never suffered much because like most civilisations, it was the poor that took the brunt, but everything revolved around the level of the Nile, hence the importance of this thing.’ He tapped the wall of the Nileometer.
‘It was that simple,’ added India. ‘If the water was low, there was likely to be hunger. When it was high, everyone got fat. So “the sign of plenty” means the mark in the shaft where the water level is at its highest.
‘So the map is located somewhere around the high water level?’ suggested Brandon.
‘Yes, but there is more. The term “sign of plenty” indeed refers to the high water level, but the phrase “the devil demands ten cubits” means an alteration to the measurement.’
‘How?’
‘A cubit is approximately the distance from your fingertips to your elbow, so wherever we reckon the location of the document is, we need to look about ten lengths of your forearm away.’
‘In which direction?’ asked Brandon.
‘Read the last sentence again, Brandon,’ said India. ‘I want you to tell me.’
‘“Devil demands ten cubits,”’ read Brandon, and after a few seconds he smiled gently as he saw the information he sought.
‘The devil demands it,’ he said.
India smiled.
‘That’s right,’ she said, ‘and where would Bora’s devils have lived?’
‘In hell,’ said Brandon.
‘In hell,’ confirmed India, and pointed downwards. ‘Bora must have hidden the map when the water was low, probably standing on the sand when the well was dry.’
‘But surely if he buried it in the sand it would have rotted away by now?’
‘I think we have to give him some credit for common sense,’ said India. ‘He knew the well flooded every year so would have made appropriate arrangements to protect the document. All we have to do is work out the high water level and then deduct ten cubits. Somewhere around that line in the shaft, hopefully, there should be something buried in the wall.’
They both looked at each other in silence, excited but overwhelmed at what they had discovered. Rashid was staring down the shaft. On the spur of the moment, India stepped forward and gave Brandon a hug that lasted a few seconds more than usual. They released each other and after an awkward few seconds turned to Rashid.
‘Well,’ said India, ‘aren’t you excited, Rashid?’
‘It is good news,’ admitted Rashid, ‘but you forget one thing.’
‘We do?’ asked Brandon, a bit deflated.
‘Think,’ said Rashid. ‘Since the construction of the Aswan Dam, the level of the Nile has stabilised and is more or less constant all year round. Though it is still lower than the high levels experienced in antiquity, the chances are the water is still higher than the location where he would have hid the document. That means it is probably below the waterline. In addition, this is an historic monument. Do you think they will just let you come over here and climb down?’ He pointed at a couple of armed policemen walking around the perimeter. ‘We may know where it is, but we have no way of reaching it.’
India and Brandon looked at each other before staring back down the well once more. Rashid was right. They were no nearer retrieving the map.
* * *
The following day, Hakim sailed their boat away from Kom-Ombo to a quieter stretch of the river where they could swim in privacy without upsetting the locals. In between dips they sipped iced tea and discussed the options.
‘I suppose we could come clean and tell the authorities,’ said India. ‘Wouldn’t your museum have the necessary connections to make something happen?’
‘What influence do you think a Turkish museum could exert over the Egyptian government,’ sneered Rashid. ‘They would laugh us out of the country.’
‘But it is part of your country’s heritage, surely there could be some political pull?’
‘Toward what?’ asked Rashid. ‘An idea born from some random letter you took from a dead man. Heaven knows where he got it from, probably some illegal source, and even if we were taken seriously, there are tens of thousands of projects waiting to be started in this country, it could take twenty years before they got permission to dig. No, the best thing we can do is keep this to ourselves until we find something tangible we can take to the authorities.’
‘So,’ said Brandon, ‘we are back where we started.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Rashid. ‘I have an idea, but it involves a great deal of danger for all of us.’
Brandon looked at India.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘Well, we’ve come this far,’ she said. ‘It would be a shame to stop.’
Brandon turned back to Rashid.
‘Looks like we’re in,’ he said. ‘What do you want us to do?’
‘It all revolves around one thing,’ said Rashid, ‘so I have to ask, have any of you ever done any scuba diving?’
Brandon’s face fell slowly as the implications sunk in.
‘Oh shit!’ he said eventually.
* * *
They lunched lightly before Hakim sailed the felucca back to Kom-Ombo.
‘Wait for me here,’ said Rashid. ‘I will return before dark.’
For the rest of the afternoon, India and Brandon explored the town and the local markets. They paid an English-speaking guide to show them around, not just to benefit from his knowledge but to deal with the constant attention from the local traders. Finally they made their way back to the river, just in time to see Rashid paying a shady-looking character a wad of notes. The conversation ended between the two men and the stranger left, leaving a sack behind him.
‘Who was that?’ asked India.
‘A cousin,’ said Rashid. ‘Come on, we have a plan to make.’ He picked up the sack and led the way back to the boat closely followed by India and Brandon. They talked long into the night before the final plans were made.
‘That’s it then,’ said Brandon eventually, ‘tomorrow night it is.’
‘You really think it will work?’ asked India.
‘It has to,’ said Brandon. ‘We don’t have any other option.’
‘But you will be taking the greatest risks.’
‘That’s the way it is,’ said Brandon, ‘only I can use the equipment.’
‘But if you get caught, you will be in deep shit.’
‘India,’ said Brandon, lifting his bottle to clink against hers, ‘most of my life I’ve been in the shit, it’s just the depth that varies.’
* * *
They spent the following day relaxing and finalising the plans until eventually darkness fell and they made their way toward the temple, each carrying their own package. All three were dressed in thawbs so as not to attract attention. The guard searching the visitors saw them approach and stepped out into the crowd to intercept them.
‘This way please,’ he said and led them through a side entrance into a waiting room. ‘Wait here until it is time.’
Rashid handed over some money and they all waited in silence. Finally, the li
ght show up in the ruins came to an end and as the music reached its crescendo, India stood up.
‘I think that’s my cue,’ she said and lifted the thawb over her head. Rashid and Brandon stared in admiration as she smoothed out the creases from the silk dress she wore beneath. She reached in her bag and pulled out a pair of high heeled shoes before brushing her long hair until it shone. Finally she placed a white flower in her hair to match the dress and touched up her make-up in a small mirror.
‘Well,’ she said, turning around, ‘what do you think?’
The two men looked at the girl in awe. The knee-length dress was very feminine and complimented India’s figure perfectly. It was not too low cut to be offensive but they knew it would attract stares from everyone who saw her. She was a vision of sophisticated beauty.
‘Absolutely stunning,’ whispered Brandon.
‘Let’s hope the captain of the guard thinks so,’ she said before adding, ‘be careful, Brandon.’
‘Don’t you worry about me,’ said Brandon, ‘you be careful yourself.’
‘I’ll be all right,’ she said, ‘I’ll be with the police, remember? OK, let’s get this done.’ She nodded to the guard before following him out of the building and into the temple itself.
* * *
The bribed policeman returned to the waiting room to lead Rashid and Brandon through a separate entrance toward the courtyard of the temple. Within minutes they stood before the open area and looked across the floodlit space toward the Nileometer. A solitary guard was ushering the last few tourists back toward the entrance. Brandon looked at his watch.
‘Are you sure your man will deliver?’ he asked.
‘A hundred dollars is a fortune to many of these people,’ said Rashid. ‘He will deliver.’
As if on cue the whole of the floodlit temple was suddenly plunged into darkness, as power was cut to the lights.
‘Right,’ said Rashid, ‘let’s go. It won’t take long before they realise the problem.’ He picked up his bag and ran across the space toward the key-shaped well, closely followed by Brandon.
They climbed the low glass barrier and descended the several steps to the edge of the shaft. Rashid retrieved a length of rope from his bag and tied one end to the steel barrier pole as Brandon removed his thawb to reveal an ill-fitting wetsuit. Within minutes, he had donned the aqualung Rashid had purchased from a contact on one of the larger boats offering scuba diving lessons and stood on the edge of the shaft.
‘I have fifty minutes of air,’ he said. ‘If I cannot find anything by then, I’ll come up.’
Rashid handed him a small bag containing an assortment of tools and without further ado, Brandon lowered himself over the edge and into the shaft.
* * *
Fifty yards away, the police were using torches to ensure the remainder of the tourists exited the complex safely. India took her place at the back of the group and shuffled along obediently, knowing full well that as soon as they had fixed the sabotaged generator, the lights would return and the security patrols would return to normal. This was where she came in; it was her job to ensure the guards were distracted as long as possible and as much as it went against her principles, it meant playing on her femininity.
At first, the guards had made everyone stand still to avoid panic while several were sent to retrieve torches from the guard room. A few minutes later, the steps to the temple were lit adequately enough to let the crowds down and they moved toward the exit in a good mood. As India reached the steps, she saw her chance and deliberately tripped over her own feet, falling headlong down the steps in a carefully choreographed diversion.
* * *
Brandon abseiled slowly down the well shaft, controlling his descent with one hand as the other directed the narrow beam of light from a torch. He searched the walls carefully, looking for any sign of a high water mark. Suddenly he stopped and let himself swing in for a closer look. He placed his hand onto the wall and rubbed it up and down, comparing the texture of the stone. There was a definite difference. Below a certain level, the stones were smoother where they had been worn by the water over thousands of years.
‘Found it,’ he said to himself before looking upwards to the shaft entrance.
‘Rashid,’ he hissed, ‘I’ve found the high water mark, pass down the marker.’
Up above, Rashid uncoiled a thinner rope weighted at one end by a lead weight. He lowered it over the side until he heard Brandon call out again.
‘Stop!’
Rashid used a stick two cubits long to measure the rope as he passed more over the edge of the well. When the correct amount had been lowered, he tied the rope to the handrail. Far below, the lead weight was now ten cubits lower than the water mark, exactly as the clues had said.
‘That’s it,’ he said, leaning over the wall.
Brandon abseiled further down into the shaft, gasping quietly as the cold water crept up his body. When he was finally treading water, he waited a few minutes to acclimatise before placing the aqualung in his mouth and diving below the surface to follow the thin rope down to the lead weight at its end.
* * *
India lay on the floor, motionless. All around she could hear people making a fuss as they tried to clear the area. Though she kept her eyes closed she was aware that at least two of the guards were kneeling at her side. Part one of her role was complete but she needed part two to work if she was going to earn Brandon as much time as possible. She groaned as she pretended to come around and tried to lift herself up onto her hands.
‘Please, lady,’ said one, ‘keep still, we have called an ambulance.’
‘I don’t need an ambulance,’ she said, ‘help me to my feet.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, please help me up.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘I am fine,’ she said. ‘Where’s my bag?’
One of the guards handed over her bag, having replaced the contents, exactly as she had hoped.
Only a few tourists remained and as they left the complex, India spoke up.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, making a display of searching her bag, ‘where’s my purse?’
‘Sorry?’ said the guard.
‘My purse has gone,’ said India. ‘It was in my bag, now it’s not.’
‘You must be mistaken, lady,’ said the guard, ‘I myself picked up your things and there was nothing else there.’
‘But I had it here,’ she said. ‘It must have fallen out when I fell. Someone must have picked it up.’
‘Nobody picked up a purse, lady, we would have seen.’
‘But it is so dark, how can you be sure?’
‘Why don’t you come back tomorrow, we will look for it then.’
‘I can’t,’ she said, ‘my boat sails at first light and I have all my credit cards and my passport in there, we have to find it now.’
The officer spoke in Egyptian Arabic and all the guards spread out along the steps with their torches to find the missing item. India turned on the charm and started to flirt gently with the officer.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said with a smile, ‘I know I am being such a nuisance. Please let me introduce myself. My name is Diane Devilish, and your name is?’
‘I am Officer Suhad, at your service.’
‘What is your first name, Officer Suhad?’
‘Edjo,’ he stuttered, captivated by India’s smile.
‘Edjo, I’m so sorry about this,’ she said, ‘but I really need my purse. Could you ask the men to check inside the temple as well?’
‘But that will take an age without light,’ said the officer. ‘The site is very large.’
‘Oh, there’s no need to check the grounds,’ she said, ‘I only went inside the temple.’
‘It will still take some time,’ he said.
‘Please,’ she said, touching his arm for a few seconds. ‘For me.’
He barked an order to his men and they went up to the temple to start the search.
‘While we are waiting,’ he said, ‘perhaps I can offer you some iced tea.’
‘That would be nice,’ she said, and as she stepped forward, made a show of limping heavily.
‘Ouch, I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘my foot still hurts.’
‘Please, take my arm,’ he said, and helped her down the steps toward the guard room.
India knew she had him. The rest of the guards were either working on the generator or searching the temple for the non-existent purse. She had bought Brandon some time, the rest was up to him.
* * *
Brandon swam slowly downwards in the clear water, leaving a trail of bubbles behind him. It had been a few years since he had last dived and if this had been in open water he would never have entertained the idea, but as it was very simple to surface if the air ran out he was happy to continue.
Within seconds he saw the weight at the end of the rope and righted himself to a vertical position. He adjusted the waterproof torch strapped on his shoulder and examined the shaft wall before him. In the light of the beam he could see the granite-lined walls, covered with a layer of fine algae. He reached into the tool bag strapped around his waist and pulled out a wire brush.
He reached forward and brushed off the algae to his front and though it temporarily clouded the water, he was pleasantly surprised to see it came off easily. He circled around the shaft scrubbing as he went, the ancient stones slowly revealing themselves for the first time in centuries. Within a few minutes he had cleaned a band of stone a metre high and over halfway around the shaft. He took a rest for a moment as the effort of scrubbing underwater took its toll on his arms.
He shone the torch down toward the bottom of the well, knowing the water level matched that of the river, but he had no idea how much further it went down and found himself wondering about the workmen who had built this shaft thousands of years earlier. The sound of his own laboured breath was the only thing he could hear in the darkness apart from the regular bubbles expelled from his mask and though he was not a superstitious man, he felt quite uncomfortable in the confined dark space.
The Treasures of Suleiman Page 11
