Kingdom of Darkness

by Andy McDermott

  His pace quickened, everyone else hurrying to keep up. Banna crossed the threshold and stared for a moment at what his lamp revealed, then turned to the cameras with an expression of almost childlike joy. ‘It is Alexander! We have found him!’

  Nina entered the chamber with the rest of the group, and was struck by the same amazement as the young Egyptian. The room was dominated by a dais, on which stood an ornate sarcophagus. Unlike the solid stone or metal of the coffins of Egyptian pharaohs, this was made of a greenish glass, the individual panes supported by a gilded framework. The surface was far from smooth, distorting the view of what lay within . . . but it was still clear enough to reveal its occupant.

  ‘It’s really him,’ she gasped, creeping closer to get a better view through the rippled crystal. ‘It’s Alexander.’

  ‘He doesn’t look so great,’ Eddie commented. The body had been preserved in the ancient Egyptian manner, mummification, but was not wrapped in bandages. Instead the wizened figure was clad in silk robes of deep Tyrian purple, with parts of a suit of scale armour covering the shoulders and lower body. The corpse’s hands were crossed over its stomach, gold rings visible upon the fingers.

  Nina saw Greek text upon the frame of the glass sarcophagus. ‘“A tomb now suffices him for whom the world was not enough”,’ she translated.

  ‘Oh, he was a James Bond fan?’

  So thrilled he struggled to speak, Banna gestured for Schofield to film the coffin’s occupant. ‘The . . . the breastplate is gone, just as the records said – stolen by Caligula. And look, look – the nose is missing.’ He pointed at the dead king’s face, below the golden band encircling the forehead. Even through the lid’s distortions, a dark hole was clearly visible.

  ‘Broken by Augustus when he bent down to kiss the body,’ said Nina. Banna looked at her in mild surprise. ‘I did my research too.’

  The young archaeologist was too enthralled to continue his rivalry, at least for the moment. ‘The coffin, glass, just as was written – the original golden coffin was melted down by Ptolemy IX Lathyrus.’

  ‘Why did he do that?’ Macy asked, torn between fascination and distaste at the sight of the eyeless, shrivelled corpse.

  ‘To turn into coins,’ Nina explained, gazing at the king’s remains. ‘However much they venerated Alexander, the rulers who came after him still needed money, wherever they could get it.’

  Eddie surveyed the rest of the room. A selection of treasures, even more impressive than those in the chamber below, surrounded the dais. ‘A lot of this other stuff’s gold, as well as everything outside. Why’d he leave all this alone?’

  ‘Ptolemy Lathyrus ruled until 81 BCE,’ said Banna, reluctantly turning away from the coffin. ‘But the tomb remained open for centuries after. These tributes must have been placed here later.’

  Macy was keen to look at something other than a dead body. ‘Hey, Nina. There’s another statue of Alexander’s horse here.’

  Nina’s interest was immediately drawn by the statue. It was about two feet long, sculpted so that the horse appeared to be in mid gallop, with its head held high and proud. Even from across the room, she could tell that the workmanship and detail were exquisite.

  That was not what had caught her attention, though. It stood out because of its lack of ostentation. The other tributes around it dripped with gold, silver and gemstones, but this was content to be merely a beautiful piece of art rather than an extravagant display.

  ‘Let me see,’ she told Macy. Dina took her place to film the coffin as she joined her friend.

  ‘You found something?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Nina knelt, bringing her light to the statue. It was made of fired clay or ceramic, the surface delicately painted and then glazed to seal in the colours. Threads of gold picked out the animal’s tack, but beyond that it was unadorned . . .

  She squinted, leaning nearer. There was something written on the tack, Greek text inscribed in tiny letters along the bands of the bridle and reins.

  Macy peered over her shoulder. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘It’s really hard to read, especially in this light . . . Has anyone got a magnifying glass?’

  There was a faintly embarrassed silence from the other archaeologists. ‘Seriously?’ said Nina. ‘Nobody’s brought a basic toolkit with them?’

  Assad chuckled. ‘It would be a good idea to edit this from the video, yes?’

  Habib headed back to the tunnel. ‘I will bring one from the cabin.’

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ said Nina as an idea came to her, but he had already gone. She took out her phone. ‘This can magnify, hold on . . .’ She activated the camera and zoomed in until the text on the screen became legible. ‘Here, I can read it.’

  ‘Well, what’s the story?’ Eddie asked after a few seconds.

  ‘Jeez, give me a chance!’ Nina moved the phone slowly over the statue’s surface. ‘It says, near enough, “No one could hope to match the sagacity and bravery of Alexander . . .”’

  ‘Whoever made that had a pretty high opinion of him.’

  ‘They wouldn’t be the only one. Although I wonder if it says who did make it?’ She checked the rest of the statue.

  ‘Why are you so fascinated by that one piece, Dr Wilde?’ asked Banna. ‘Alexander the Great himself is here, in this room, but you are more interested in his horse!’

  ‘I’m interested in his horse because the guy who tried to kill me was interested in it too,’ Nina said. ‘Okay, here’s another line . . . “The riddle of the Gordian Knot outwitted all, until Alexander’s wisdom found the answer.”’

  ‘The Gordian Knot?’ said Eddie. ‘That’s the one where he couldn’t unfasten it, so he just chopped it in half, right?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Nina answered, reading on. ‘“Only such great wisdom will solve the riddle of Bucephalus and reveal that which leads to the Spring of Immortality.”’ That aroused intrigued looks from the others.

  Most of them, at least. ‘I shall continue to examine the body of Alexander the Great,’ Banna announced huffily and to nobody in particular. ‘Keep the camera on me!’ Dina, who had turned to watch Nina, hurriedly brought her phone back to the expedition leader.

  ‘Where’s this riddle?’ asked Eddie.

  Assad joined Nina. ‘There must be more text.’

  She reached for the statue, then hesitated, looking at the Egyptian for approval. He nodded. As carefully as she could, she lifted it. ‘It’s really heavy,’ she reported.

  Assad supported the statue’s underside with one hand. ‘Fifteen kilograms, at least. It must be solid.’ He tapped softly on the horse’s flank with a knuckle, producing a dull clonk.

  ‘Sounds that way,’ Nina agreed. ‘Okay . . . I can’t see text anywhere except on the reins. Let’s see what the rest of it says.’ They lowered the sculpture, and she brought her phone back up.

  It did not take long to read the rest of the inscriptions. ‘Well, that’s a little weird.’

  Eddie came over. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You remember the story in the Alexander Romance, where Andreas the cook accidentally discovered the Spring of Immortality?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘According to the text, this statue was made by Andreas. He put it in the burial chamber to honour his king.’ Now even Banna looked up from his examination of the coffin to listen. ‘It also says that when he did that . . . he was over three hundred years old.’

  ‘Impossible!’ Banna snapped.

  ‘I’m just reading what it says. Andreas found the Spring of Immortality again after Alexander died. The statue can show the way to it – if you solve its riddle.’

  ‘But what is the riddle?’ asked Macy.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Nina checked the horse’s belly, but found no more text.

 
‘On the feet, perhaps,’ Assad suggested. He and Nina gently turned the statue over. Again, there was nothing visible, even on the underside of the hooves. ‘Or hidden in the hairs of the tail?’

  ‘What are you doing?’ hooted Banna. ‘Ismail, this is the greatest find in years, and you are ignoring it!’

  ‘No, I am not ignoring it,’ Assad told him as he put the equine sculpture back on its feet. ‘But I am paying more attention to a threat to it. This statue must be the one Dr Wilde’s attackers plan to steal. So, to ensure the safety of the rest of the tomb, we need to take it to a secure location.’ He straightened. ‘I will return to the antechamber and bring the ASPS so that—’

  The chamber shook, a single sharp pulse jolting the floor. The treasures rattled as a low, forceful whump rolled around the space.

  Eddie’s gaze whipped towards the exit. ‘That was a fucking bomb!’

  Banna gawped at him. ‘A bomb? But—’

  Another sound thundered through the tunnels, a tearing crunch of falling stone and rubble. The golden tributes juddered again, dust dropping from the arched ceiling. Banna gasped and splayed his upper body over the coffin to protect the figure inside.

  The echoes of the impact faded, to be replaced by new noises in the distance.

  Gunfire – and screams.

  8

  ‘Jesus!’ cried Nina as the horribly familiar chatter of automatic weapons reached her. ‘They must have blasted their way in!’

  ‘Who?’ demanded Banna, wide-eyed with confusion and fear.

  ‘If they’re the same lot as the bloke who came after Nina, they’re fucking Nazis!’ Eddie pulled his wife to her feet. ‘We’ve got to get out of here, or we’ll be trapped. Oi, Hulk!’ he added to Banna, who was still trying to shield Alexander’s remains. ‘It’s not him you need to worry about.’

  More gunfire howled down the passage, the pitch and tempo different. ‘The ASPS are shooting back!’ said Assad.

  ‘Yeah, but it doesn’t sound like there’s as many of ’em.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Nina protested as everyone ran into the tunnel. ‘There’s only one way out of here.’

  ‘Sounded like they blew another one.’ Eddie listened to the battle. Even though his hearing had been degraded by years of exposure to loud, explosive noises, it was the higher frequencies that had been affected the most; he had no trouble picking out the roar of bullets being fired. ‘Jesus, it must be a fucking slaughterhouse.’

  ‘Are the ASPS winning?’ Nina asked. His grim expression gave her an answer. ‘Oh, crap.’

  They re-entered the treasury. It was much darker than before. The reason became clear once they descended the stairs and could see the entrance past the pillars: the spotlights were off. ‘They have cut the power,’ reported the worried Assad. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We can’t fight ’em,’ Eddie replied. The firing had stopped – and the last shots he had heard were from the invading force’s guns, suggesting that the defenders had been overrun. ‘If we can shut the door, we might be able to hole up in here until backup arrives.’

  ‘It weighs two tons!’ Banna protested. ‘And the winch is on the other side. We will never be able to move it.’

  ‘Won’t know unless we try. Come on! Bill, Dr Assad, give us a hand.’ Eddie ran to the doorway, the other men following.

  ‘What about us?’ Macy asked, even beneath her fear sounding a little offended on behalf of the three women. ‘We can help too!’

  ‘Not being sexist, Macy, but you weigh as much as a crispbread. Find somewhere to hide.’ He rounded the great bronze door. ‘Bill, help me push it. You two, pull from the inside.’

  The Egyptians took hold of a handle behind the lock and hauled at it as Eddie and Schofield pressed their shoulders against the door’s face. ‘Shit!’ gasped the American. ‘It’s not moving!’

  ‘It’s wedged on the floor – push harder!’ The bronze barrier shifted slightly as the four men strained, its corner rasping against the stone slabs. A shadow obscured the light from inside the treasury. ‘Nina!’ said Eddie as his wife ran through the opening and joined him. ‘Get back inside!’

  ‘You won’t close it in time without help,’ she replied through clenched teeth.

  ‘It won’t matter if it’s shut if you’re on the wrong side of it!’

  Nina was about to reply when she heard a noise behind her. ‘Someone’s coming!’

  Running footsteps echoed down the passage. ‘Shit, they’re here,’ Eddie growled. Despite their efforts, the gap was still wide enough for a person to fit through. ‘Go and—’

  ‘Wait!’ said Assad as shouts reached them – in Arabic. ‘It is one of the ASPS!’

  Eddie twisted to look down the dark tunnel. A jittering shaft of light appeared from around the last corner. The approaching man had a torch, the beam swinging as he hared down the passage – but the noise of more runners warned the Englishman that his pursuers were not far behind. ‘We’ll never get this door closed,’ he realised.

  ‘Do we keep pushing?’ Schofield asked.

  ‘No point now – get inside and hide. You too, Nina.’ He straightened, glancing back as Nina and Schofield ducked through the gap. The running man reached the corner—

  The stuttering orange of a gun’s muzzle flash silhouetted the Egyptian against the walls – which were discoloured by splatters of blood. The man fell.

  Time was up. ‘Shit! Go!’ Eddie barked, following the others through the opening. He heard a shout from behind. The attackers had seen him. ‘Find cover!’

  He dived behind a statue – as more bullets tore through the air above him, smacking into the stone pillars beyond. The door rang like a gong as stray bullets struck it. He scrambled along the floor until he was clear of the danger zone, then jumped up. ‘Hide and turn out the lights!’

  Another sustained burst cracked against the stonework. Assuming that anyone inside the tomb could be armed, the attackers were using overwhelming firepower to deter them from shooting back. But the suppressing fire had also cut Eddie off from Nina. She and the others had gone towards the burial chamber, while he – and Macy, whom he glimpsed climbing into a large metal chest – were isolated at the opposite end of the treasury.

  More shouts from just outside, spears of light stabbing through the opening. The archaeologists hurriedly switched off their lanterns, Eddie and Nina’s eyes meeting for one last desperate moment before she too disappeared into the darkness. He muttered a curse, then crouched and felt his way through the ranks of tributes in what he hoped was Macy’s direction.

  Something flashed through the probing torch beams and clanked loudly on the floor. Eddie guessed what it was, closing his eyes and clamping both hands over his ears, but there was no time to warn the others—

  The stun grenade exploded with a piercing bang and a blinding flash. Schofield and Dina had instinctively turned towards the noise when it landed – and both screamed as the detonation overpowered their senses.

  Men swarmed through the opening, golden visors shielding their eyes. Powerful tactical lights mounted on their guns pierced the darkness as they searched for targets.

  They found two, reeling helplessly from the stun blast.

  Guns blazed, short but deadly bursts. The archaeologists were cut down, tumbling bloodily amidst the ancient treasures.

  Nina had found cover behind a golden sculpture of Bucephalus, kneeling and protecting her eyes – but the grenade’s crack still hit her like a physical blow. Ears ringing, she struggled to rise . . .

  A bright light pinned her. Still dizzy, she squinted into the glare – and saw a gun taking aim—

  A sharp command, and the weapon withdrew, though the spotlight under its muzzle remained locked upon her. Figures marched past, more beams scouring the shadows. She picked out snatches of speech as her hea
ring returned, but didn’t understand the words. The language sounded familiar, however. German?

  Someone moved in front of her, partially shading her from the pitiless light. Nina looked up at an unsmiling man in dark overalls, his eyes hidden behind a visor. The gunman spoke, again in German; the black-haired new arrival replied dismissively, then removed his face shield.

  Nina felt a chill of recognition. She had seen him before – at the United Nations. It was Rasche, one of the men whose photographs the FBI had shown her. A wanted Nazi war criminal.

  But like his comrade from Los Angeles, he was too young. The man staring down at her with intense, dangerous eyes had aged since the mugshot was taken, but still appeared to be only in his early forties, not much older than Eddie.

  He spoke to the gunman; Banna’s name was mentioned. That snapped her back to full awareness. Where were her companions, and what had happened to them? Where was Eddie? She looked around. Other intruders were moving through the treasury, hunting for the rest of the group. One huge hulk had already located Assad, hauling the older man to his feet. Another black-clad man dragged the dazed Banna out from behind a pillar.

  ‘You are Dr Nina Wilde?’ She looked back at the mad-eyed man.

  ‘Uh . . . yeah, yes I am,’ she mumbled.

  He gazed unsettlingly at her as if examining a specimen under a microscope, then surveyed the treasury. ‘Anyone else who is here, show yourself now!’ he shouted. ‘If you do not, you will be killed on sight.’ The command was repeated in Arabic, but stiffly, the phrases learned by rote.

  Two more intruders, both young men, called out. Nina shuddered as she saw Schofield and Dina’s blood-splashed bodies in the beams of their lights. Rasche stared at Nina again. ‘Are there more people with you?’

  She forced herself not to glance in the direction where she had last seen her husband. ‘No.’

  ‘If you are lying, I will kill you.’ There was distinct anticipation in his voice at the prospect.

  ‘This is all of us, I swear.’

  It was evident that he didn’t believe her, but seconds passed with no reports from the other searchers. ‘Very well,’ he said eventually. ‘Where is the body of Alexander the Great?’