The Forbidden Tomb

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘What did the oracle tell him that was so important?’

  Manjani smiled. ‘Alexander learned that he was a god.’

  Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘How can you just become a god? I mean, not to sound metaphysical, but isn’t that something you’re born into? As in, you need to have a deity somewhere in your family tree.’

  Manjani nodded. ‘You do, and he did – if his mother is to be believed. From the time of his birth, Alexander’s mother, Olympias, maintained that he was not the son of King Philip the Second. She claimed that he had been sired by a god in the form of a serpent. Alexander took her word on it and began living his life in accordance with his divine lineage, even though he harbored many doubts. But those doubts were erased on his trip to Siwa.’

  ‘Erased how?’ she asked.

  ‘Before Alexander was admitted to the temple to talk to the oracle – which was actually a large statue of Amun – he first met with the High Priests of Amun, who welcomed him in his familiar Greek. As non-native speakers of the language, they blessed him not as their son – “paidion” – but rather as the son of god: “pai dios”.’

  Sarah scoffed at the notion. ‘One slip of the tongue and Alexander became a god? Is that all it took?’

  Manjani shook his head. ‘The linguistic confusion was only the beginning. After consulting with the oracle, Alexander emerged from the temple alone and immediately renounced his mortal father. He also proclaimed that he wasn’t a son of a god, but rather a son of the god, Amun. The high priests supported his declaration and heralded his divine provenance, forever linking him to the king of kings.’

  69

  Sarah was still struggling with Alexander’s ascension to the Egyptian pantheon. ‘Hold on. Alexander visited the temple alone. Afterward, he claimed he was the son of a god and the priests just took his word for it? How do they know what the oracle said?’

  ‘Because the priests were there,’ Manjani explained.

  ‘They were where? Inside the temple?’

  ‘Yes, inside the temple.’

  ‘But you said he went in alone!’

  ‘Technically he did, but when the ruins were investigated centuries later, it was discovered that the entire structure was essentially one big performance stage. There was a hidden second floor that could only be accessed through a secret entrance. It allowed the priests to remain concealed while they, not the statue, spoke to those inside.’

  McNutt laughed. ‘Sounds like the Wizard of Oz.’

  ‘Similar,’ he conceded. ‘There were also double walls surrounding the statue. The gaps between could only be reached via an underground tunnel that originated behind the temple. From within these walls, additional priests could add special effects to enhance the booming voice from above. Pounding, musical instruments, and hushed echoes were all used in concert with the message being delivered. Anything to convince the visitors that they had, in fact, communed with a higher power.’

  Garcia was dumbstruck. ‘Why would they trick Alexander?’

  ‘They didn’t,’ Manjani assured him. ‘Considering all of their efforts to protect Alexander even after his death, it would be foolish to assume this was some sort of elaborate ruse. What you have to understand is that the priests truly believed they were the conduits through which the gods would make their desires known. They considered themselves to be mystics, the earthly reflections of the divine rulers. As such, they were the chosen voice of the pantheon, and it was their responsibility to ensure that its will be conveyed to the people. If they told Alexander that he was the son of Amun, it was only because they believed it to be true.’

  Papineau agreed. ‘That makes sense. From the priests’ perspective, only the son of a god could have accomplished his feats.’

  Manjani nodded. ‘They saw him as the most powerful man on earth. So powerful, in fact, that he could not possibly have been of mortal blood. When Amun sent them word that Alexander was his son, they did not question it. When Alexander accepted his fate, their duty had been fulfilled . . . Or had it?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Sarah asked.

  Manjani pondered the dot near Siwa. ‘The priests were the source of his power, and he was the source of theirs. For the remaining years of his life, Alexander showered the priests with tributes, and they, in turn, offered their guidance and wisdom. In the eyes of the priests, the glories of Alexander were hopelessly intertwined with those of Amun. It only makes sense that they would want to bring his body back to Siwa after his death. By placing Alexander’s tomb near their holy temple, they would create an eternal bond. They would be linked in death, as they had been in life – just as he had hoped.’

  ‘Alexander wanted to be buried in Siwa?’

  Manjani nodded. ‘On his deathbed, it is said that Alexander spoke of his desire to be laid to rest next to Amun. It stands to reason that he would want his body returned to the place where he first learned of his divinity, to be forever interred in Siwa.’

  Although many historians have suggested that Alexander’s body was secretly taken back to the oasis at some point in time, little has ever been discovered to support such a claim. In fact, the ruins in Siwa give the impression of abandonment, not adoration, leading some to speculate that even if the body had been taken there, it had been moved away some time later.

  He continued. ‘In the time of Alexander, the high priests controlled the land. They were the authority, and they determined who was allowed to enter the oasis. Their absolute power made Siwa a logical spot to hide Alexander’s tomb.’

  Sarah furrowed her brow. ‘But the second dot wasn’t in Siwa – it was miles away. Why put the tomb all the way out there if you’re trying to keep an eye on it?’

  Manjani was ready with an answer. ‘Having the tomb concealed within the city would have made it easier to guard, but it also would have limited their options. They couldn’t build a shrine in the middle of Siwa and still expect to keep their secret. Someone would have questioned their efforts. But constructing a temple in the outlying desert would not only safeguard its exposure, it would protect it from uninvited guests. Remember, this is the terrain that once swallowed an entire Persian army overnight. It has taken millions of lives over the centuries. Two thousand years ago, it was even worse than it is today. It was known to bring nothing but death.’

  Cobb stood and walked closer to the screen. ‘Hector, can you show me a satellite flyover of Siwa?’

  ‘Sure. Just give me a second.’ A moment later, a high-definition reconnaissance photo replaced the image of the ruins. ‘What are we looking for?’

  Cobb traced his finger to the southeast, circling the approximate location of the mysterious second marking that they had found on the dome. ‘Zoom in on this section.’

  Garcia zoomed in on a stretch of desert.

  Cobb eyed the image carefully. ‘What kind of coverage do we have?’

  ‘There are thousands of satellites circling the globe. At any given moment, hundreds of those are focused on Egypt, probably more, considering the civil unrest. Together, they offer a nearly constant stream of information if you know where to look.’

  Cobb nodded his understanding. With any luck, he would be able to detect the telltale signs of a compound. ‘How close is this to the Libyan border?’

  ‘About thirty miles. Why?’

  McNutt leaped to his feet. ‘Holy shit – the Semtex.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Cobb said.

  ‘What about it?’ Papineau asked.

  McNutt walked toward the screen. ‘Remember what I said before? In all likelihood, the Semtex came from Libya.’ He placed his hand to the left of the map. ‘That’s right about here. They’re close enough that you could stand in Siwa and piss into Libya. It would only take a quick field trip to secure what they needed.’

  Having missed their previous discussion about the explosives, Manjani was trying to piece everything together on the fly. ‘Are you saying that the second location is the tomb, and that the priests are the wa
rriors who are trying to protect it?’

  Cobb nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. The murders weren’t acts of aggression; they were acts of devotion.’

  Even Papineau was convinced. ‘I must admit, it seems to fit.’

  McNutt laughed. ‘Papi’s so excited, he’s rhyming!’

  Cobb urged everyone to calm down. ‘Right now, it’s just a theory. Before we start dancing the jig, let’s get some evidence to back it up.’

  Garcia looked at him. ‘Tell me what you need.’

  ‘I need a much better photo than this. Something focused on this stretch of desert. Preferably one of our birds. We have the best optics from space.’

  Garcia typed away, searching for a different satellite.

  ‘I also need a second set of eyes. Josh, are you up to the task?’

  McNutt nodded. ‘You know I am, chief. What are we looking for?’

  ‘Anything that doesn’t belong in the desert.’

  ‘Like polar bears?’

  Cobb took a deep breath. ‘I might need a third set of eyes.’

  McNutt laughed loudly. ‘Just messing with you, chief. I know what we’re looking for. This isn’t my first desert assault.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  A few seconds later, a new picture appeared on the screen. The detail of the image was remarkable, as if it had been taken from a helicopter instead of a satellite.

  ‘Much better,’ Cobb said. ‘Good job, Hector.’

  Garcia smiled at the compliment.

  Meanwhile, Cobb and McNutt went to work.

  Cobb knew there were a handful of ways to spot a subterranean bunker – exhaust vents, power cables, and other topside connections – but if they were there, he needed McNutt to see them without being prompted. It was the only way to ensure that he wasn’t simply seeing what he had been told to see.

  To the untrained eye, the scene was little more than a vista of endless sand. Fortunately, this wasn’t the first satellite reconnaissance that Cobb and McNutt had studied. Slowly but surely, they began to spot the telltale indicators.

  ‘Camouflage netting,’ McNutt said as he pointed toward the screen.

  Cobb nodded as he pointed out something else. ‘Mesh.’

  McNutt drew an X over a ripple in the sand.

  Then Cobb circled a suspicious shadow.

  Eventually, McNutt traced an imaginary border.

  Each time, they exchanged knowing nods without speaking.

  From where Sarah was sitting, it looked like they were just making things up as they went along. Either that, or they were playing a foreign version of tic-tac-toe, one that she couldn’t comprehend. ‘Enough already! What the hell did you find?’

  McNutt glanced at Cobb. ‘May I?’

  Cobb nodded yet again. ‘Be my guest.’

  McNutt grinned and turned to face the others. ‘Good news, everybody. Either Jack and I just located the Egyptian equivalent of Area 51, or we just found our target. As far as I’m concerned, we’re winners either way.’

  70

  Jasmine had hinted to Kaleem that there was more to tell about her expedition, but she needed one last moment to consider what she was allowed to reveal. Even in her time of crisis, with her life on the line, she was worried what the others might think.

  Eventually, she decided that they would understand.

  ‘What do you know about the tsunami in 365 AD?’ she whispered.

  ‘Are you referring to the earthquake in Crete?’

  She nodded. ‘I have reason to believe that the body was moved at the time.’

  Kaleem didn’t understand. ‘Are you saying that Alexander was washed out to sea? Because I don’t believe that for a second. The harbor has been exhaustively searched. And even though they have found ruins, nothing would lead me to believe that his tomb is sitting at the bottom of the water.’

  She smiled. For the time being, she thought it best to leave out any mention of the Fates or Pandora’s box. Their role in the decision was far less important than the decision itself. ‘Alexander wasn’t lost in the flood; his body was moved because of it.’

  ‘This is what you learned from the wall?’

  She nodded. ‘The implication was clear: Alexander’s body was relocated so that he would not fall victim to the disaster.’

  ‘Relocated to where?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘The wall only told us when and how it was moved, not where. According to the message, Alexander was smuggled from beneath the city and carried to a waiting boat.’

  Until that moment, she had been thrilled by her discovery that Alexander had left the city by way of the coast – if only because it had given them a concrete lead to follow. But hearing it aloud in the strangle-hold of the prison, she was struck by how insignificant it seemed. In fact, the more she thought about it, Alexander’s departure seemed to raise more questions than it answered. The Sahara was vast, but it was nothing compared to the sea. Suddenly, her optimism waned as she considered the seemingly endless destinations that her story allowed.

  She stared at Kaleem, fearful that her tale would not be important enough to trade for their freedom. ‘Do you think that will be enough?’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said, unsure. ‘Is there anything else?’

  She shook her head. ‘That’s everything I know.’

  Kaleem forced a smile. ‘Then they will have to accept it. The mystery of Alexander has remained for thousands of years. And it will remain for thousands of years to come.’ He gently took her hand in his. ‘His fate is not yours to determine.’

  Jasmine appreciated his attempt to console her. She understood that she could only give them what she knew. The rest was beyond her control.

  She reached out and pulled him in for a long hug.

  For her, the physical contact was remarkably soothing.

  Her worries seemed to melt away in his grasp.

  Sadly, her solace was short-lived.

  Without warning, the heavy door was flung open and smashed into the wall as three robed men stormed into the cell. No words were spoken as they charged forward to separate the inmates, but none were needed. Their intention was quite clear.

  Jasmine clung to Kaleem, fearing for his life. Having made a connection to the old man, she desperately hoped that they would be permitted to stay together.

  But it was not to be.

  The sentries made that known as they pried the duo apart.

  Jasmine raised her head and pleaded for forgiveness for whatever they had done wrong, but all that did was piss them off. In response, the nearest guard delivered a backhand to the side of her face. The vicious blow sent her reeling across the floor. He charged forward and screamed at her in no uncertain terms that interference of any kind would be punished with violence.

  Chained to the wall, she knew it didn’t make sense to fight back.

  Now wasn’t the time to escape.

  Meanwhile, Kaleem was pinned to the ground as they removed his leg irons. A minute later, they dragged his frail body toward the exit.

  In the last fleeting moment, she caught a glimpse of Kaleem’s face as he was hauled from the chamber. He wasn’t flushed with panic. His eyes were steely and calm. It was as if he knew his time had come. There were no tears. There were no pleas. He did not beg for his life. He had accepted the inevitable with dignity and grace.

  In her heart, she knew that she would never see him again.

  * * *

  The instant the door slammed behind him, Kaleem rose to his full height. He nodded to his left, then to his right, assuring the guards that he could stand on his own. They instantly released their grasp and backed away.

  The charade was finally over.

  Waiting in the hallway outside the cell was a fourth man, his robe much more ornate than those of the others. He smiled warmly at Kaleem and offered him a glass of water as reward for a job well done. ‘Are you okay, my son?’

  Kaleem looked at the high priest with reverence. Even thou
gh they were roughly the same age, Kaleem even went so far as to bow his head as he accepted the drink. ‘Thank you, elder. I am fine.’

  The priest placed his hand on Kaleem’s shoulder. ‘Perhaps it is time to choose a younger man for your role. The constant sedation cannot be good for you.’

  ‘Amun will keep me safe. Of this, I am sure.’

  ‘Indeed he shall,’ the elder said.

  For centuries, the shadow priests had always followed the same routine. Whenever their secrets or landmarks were threatened, they responded decisively by killing all but one of the interlopers who dared to stray too close. The only soul that they spared was the most knowledgeable of the group, the one who seemed to know their history, for this was the best way to learn how the infidels had picked up their scent.

  Jasmine was simply the latest in a long line of scholars, tourists, and travelers who had fallen victim to Kaleem’s ruse. Manjani would have fallen for it, too, if he had not managed to escape in the desert before they had a chance to grab him. The only thing that had stopped them was a freak sandstorm that had erased his trail.

  The elder continued. ‘What of the girl? Has she told us all she knows?’

  Kaleem knew there were cameras and microphones in the ancient cell, but he also knew of Jasmine’s tendency to whisper. ‘I believe she speaks the truth. She knows nothing about the star map or the location of the tomb. We are safe.’

  The elder rejoiced when he heard the news.

  Amun had protected them once again.

  Now only one step remained.

  The historian must be killed.

  71

  Friday, November 7

  Siwa Oasis, Egypt

  Establishing a base of operation near enemy terrain takes time – even when someone’s life is on the line. In the case of Cobb’s team, it had taken an entire day to establish a camp near Siwa. Papineau had docked the boat several miles from Alexandria during the early morning, but it was nearly noon before they had secured transportation and had off-loaded everything that they needed for the adventure ahead.