by Peter Vegas
Then they reached the top of another dune, and in the distance Sam saw a small oasis shimmering in the afternoon sun.
* * *
FROM THE TOP OF EACH dune the oasis got a little closer and a little bigger, and then it was in front of them, at the bottom of a long, gentle slope. It wasn’t much to look at—just five or six tennis courts’ worth of palm trees jammed together. Bassem led them halfway around the edge until he found a gap in the greenery they could fit the bikes through.
They weaved slowly through the dense foliage, heading, Sam assumed, for the well that would be located somewhere near the center. But Bassem seemed to have something else in mind, and he suddenly killed the engine and dismounted. Mary did the same thing as the big man fished a pair of binoculars out of the bag tied to his quad and started walking back along the path they had just made.
“I think Bassem’s worried we’re still being followed,” said Mary as she watched him go.
“There’s no way that guy on the bike got free in time to follow us, is there?” asked Sam.
“I don’t think so, but I’ve learned to trust Bassem’s instincts. He knows his stuff.”
“He knows a lot of stuff,” said Sam, thinking back to the samurai stunt in town. “Where did you find that guy?”
“He’s kind of an old family friend,” she said. “He’s had an interesting life. He might tell you about it sometime.”
“I doubt it,” said Sam
“What do you mean?”
“Well, that would require Bassem to actually speak, wouldn’t it?”
Mary laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. The big guy’s never really been much of a talker, but we seem to get by.”
Sam and Mary followed the newly made path till they saw Bassem near the point where they’d entered the oasis. He was tucked behind a fallen palm tree, scanning the horizon through the binoculars. Sam and Mary didn’t join him, opting instead for the shade a little farther back.
Bassem watched, and Sam and Mary watched him watching, but there wasn’t much to see. The Egyptian was as still as the dead trunk he was leaning on. Minutes ticked by, and the sitting and doing nothing began to get on Sam’s nerves. It had been a crazy few days. He had done more and slept less than he had ever thought possible, and it felt like he was on the homestretch, but instead of a sprint to the finish line he was stuck in a dinky little oasis doing nothing! Why not just keep going? The desert was a big place; surely they could outrun anyone who was behind them? If they were still being followed. And it was a big if. Just like it was a big desert.
Despite his frustration Sam wasn’t going to start questioning Bassem. So, they sat, watched, and waited. And to take his mind off the waiting, Sam tried to learn more about Mary’s family obsession with pyramids.
“You said your grandfather thought the pyramids at Giza were empty shells. I thought they were for burying the pharaohs in?”
“That’s what they teach you in school,” said Mary, “but it doesn’t always add up. No pharaohs were ever found in the pyramids at Giza. In fact, in the whole of Egypt only one pyramid has ever been found that was being used as burial tomb.”
“So what about the King’s Chamber in the big pyramid? Wasn’t that where the pharaoh was supposed to be buried?”
“Wow, I’m impressed! You do know a bit about Egypt after all. Thought it bored you to tears?”
“Yeah, well, I guess if you get hit over the head with the stuff enough times, a bit sinks in,” said Sam. “So what’s the King’s Chamber?”
“The King’s and Queen’s Chambers were only given those names in the sixth century. The sarcophagus looks like a coffin, but, like I said, no mummy was ever found in there. There aren’t even any hieroglyphics inside the chamber. How do you explain that for a place that was supposed to be the burial site of the great Khufu? He was the pharaoh they say built the Great Pyramid at Giza,” she added.
Sam rolled his eyes. “I also know that. I’m not a complete ignoramus when it comes to Egyptology. I just find it a bit boring.”
“Not so boring now, is it?”
Mary was right. This week had been light-years from anything resembling boring. Sam hoped he would look back on the whole thing as a great adventure. But right there, at that moment, he just wanted it over and done with and his uncle safe.
“Remind me what the sarcophagus looks like again?” he asked.
“Give me your sketchbook, and I’ll draw it for you. What? You think you’re the only one who can draw?” asked Mary in response to Sam’s raised eyebrows.
“It was carved out of a solid block of red granite,” Mary said as she drew. “Two-point-five cubits by one-point-five cubits by one-point-five cubits. Too small to fit a body.”
“What’s a cubit?” asked Sam.
“About twenty-one inches. It was the Egyptian measurement system.”
“Not bad,” said Sam, admiring Mary’s pencil work. “So what was it built for?”
“That, my young Egyptologist,” said Mary, adopting the voice of an elderly university professor, “is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.” Mary stopped as the sound of rustling leaves drew their attention back to Bassem.
The big man was on the move. As he came back toward them, Sam saw a flicker of movement over his shoulder. Up on the ridge the man on the dirt bike was watching the oasis. Sam’s mouth fell open in surprise as Bassem glided past. Mary had to grab Sam by his jacket and haul him to his feet. But it wasn’t the reappearance of the two-wheeled stalker that had stunned him. It was that he had just heard the first ever words from Bassem’s mouth.
“You need to take off your clothes. Fast.”
18
DUMMY RUN
IT SEEMED LIKE THOSE FIRST few words had opened the floodgates. Mary caught up to Bassem as they headed back to the quads, and he talked all the way. Sam couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but he assumed it was to do with him getting his gear off.
“You really do have to get undressed, Sam,” Mary urged when they got to the bikes. Behind her, Bassem began pulling the carefully packed camping equipment and water bottles off the bikes and dumping it in a pile on the ground. When the giant Egyptian turned and saw Sam still standing there fully clothed, he locked his dark, brooding eyes on him. For a man who didn’t talk much, his look spoke volumes. Sam scuttled behind a palm to disrobe.
“What’s this all about?” he said, trying not to sound pissed off, although he figured he kind of had the right to be.
Sam needn’t have been worried about Mary trying to sneak a peek. She was busy on her hands and knees collecting dead palm leaves. “Those guys following us might have some high-tech help,” she said as she worked.
“What do you mean?” asked Sam.
“Bassem thinks they might have been tracking us on a spy satellite. He reckons that’s the only way they could have found us out here.”
“Spy satellite? But why does that mean I have to get my gear off?” Sam asked as he tossed his jeans, shirt, and jacket around the tree.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going to leave you here naked,” said Mary
Sam looked down as another pile of clothes was tossed back to him. “Hang on! What? Leave me? I thought you said you were going to help.”
“Get dressed and I’ll explain,” said Mary.
Sam didn’t need to be told twice, and when he stepped out from behind his modesty screen, he saw Mary working on Bassem’s plan.
“If we are being watched by a spy satellite, Bassem says you’re going to have to walk from here, Sam.” She looked up from her work. “Sorry. I wanted to come with you, but the big guy won’t let me, and it would kind of ruin his plan anyway.”
“That’s cool.” Sam was lying. It didn’t feel cool at all. For a start, he didn’t know where to walk because he had no idea where he was.
“Hey.” Another word passed Bassem’s lips, and this came with a gift as he tossed an oversized mobile phone to Sam.
“There’s a GPS un
it in that phone,” said Mary, raking up more dead palm fronds with her hands. “You’ve got the coordinates of the Panehesy, yeah?”
Sam held up the hand-drawn map.
“Good,” said Mary. “Program them in, and that thing will lead you right there.”
“Okay.” Sam was saying okay, but he wasn’t thinking it. Instead, he was thinking of a couple of very un-okay things, but then Mary piped up again and cut them off.
“You find the Panehesy while we lose this guy once and for all. Then we’ll get the chopper and come find you.” Mary pointed to the GPS. “Keep that switched on. As long as there’s a signal, it will lead us right to you.”
“Okay.” There were still a couple of un-okays banging around in Sam’s skull, but Mary’s building project was finished and Bassem was revving his bike impatiently.
Sam helped Mary load her new creation onto her bike.
“Thanks, Sam. See you soon.”
Sam said “okay” one more time, but it was drowned out by the noise of Mary racing off after Bassem.
* * *
THE TWO QUADS BURST OUT of the oasis slightly farther around from the point they had entered, but not too far. It was important that the man on the ridge saw the breakout. And what exactly did he see? His targets, spooked from their hiding place and making another run for it. The dangerous Egyptian in front. The girl following closely with the boy.
That was exactly what Bassem had been counting on. If the man hadn’t been in such a rush to follow the fleeing quads, he might have used his binoculars, and then he might have noticed that Sam had suddenly lost a lot of weight. Mary hadn’t had time to collect enough palm leaves to stuff the clothes, but fake Sam was light and that meant Mary could ring more speed out of her bike. The pace would eventually take its toll on fake Sam, and after a few miles his head would fall off, but by then the real Sam would be long gone.
The dirt bike rider took the easiest path, along the ridge, until he linked up with the tracks left by Bassem and Mary. From the shadows on the edge of the oasis Sam watched him drop down off the top of the dune and disappear from sight. He had no idea where Bassem was leading the man or how he planned to lose him, but he knew where he needed to go: exactly three miles due west.
Sam didn’t think the journey would be too tough, but he quickly discovered that trekking across sand on foot was far harder than gliding over dunes on a quad. The first couple of miles were just hard going. Sam made frequent stops to drink from the bottle in the backpack Mary had left him and to check the GPS. Not because he was worried about heading the wrong way, but because it also told him how far he had to go.
It was the last three quarters of a mile when things got really grim. Five days with little sleep and no proper food had taken their toll. Sam felt like he’d run a marathon, then been forced to go around again. The dunes seemed to grow bigger, Sam got slower, and the “distance to destination” readout hardly moved between breaks.
Luckily, the heat was easing as the sun’s long arc across the sky came to an end. It was an impressive sight. A flaming golden disc hovering in the deep blue afternoon sky.
Seeing it like this, Sam could understand how the inhabitants of this harsh land had gotten so obsessed with it. Akhenaten translated as “the horizon of Aten” and now, as the day waned, that was his destination. It would be dark soon, and while there was also a flashlight in the bag, nightfall would make his search harder. But search for what? The question burned as bright as Aten. He didn’t expect to find a rusting ship sticking out of the desert, or his uncle sitting on a campstool sipping a mug of sweet tea. That would have been too easy. He only hoped that he would know what he was meant to be looking for when he got there. And so he pushed on, dune after dune, toward the horizon of Aten.
* * *
ACCORDING TO THE GPS IT was the home-stretch. The last tenth of a mile. The dunes began to shrink, the going got easier, and Sam’s rising expectations gave him a new burst of energy. His second wind. Wasn’t that what runners called it? Sam figured he was onto his third or fourth.
Finally, he reached the top of a small dune, and ahead was the Nile, stretched out like a glistening blue ribbon, framed top and bottom with the green bands of vegetation that fed off the life-giving waters. But not in front of Sam. Here the desert ran all the way down to the river’s edge, and as he surveyed the scene, he knew he was lost.
It wasn’t that he didn’t know where he was. The GPS told him that just ahead was the area that was once part of the Nile but had been swallowed up in the storm of ’42. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Sam that the area was much bigger than it had appeared on the map, but it was huge—a massive expanse of undulating desert spoiled only by a few small depressions. But it took only a second to see that the area was empty. He hadn’t expected to see a ship sticking out of the sand, but he had hoped for something. Some sign of his uncle. But there was nothing. Sam had no idea what to do next, so he sat and watched Aten’s departure.
* * *
IN THE LAST FEW MINUTES of daylight, as the sun dropped beneath the horizon, the shallow dips in the sand began to fill with shadows. From Sam’s front-row seat at the top of the rise, the landscape looked as if it were dotted with giant bowls of weak tea. Each dip created a slightly different oval shape of darkness, but one looked out of place. In one depression the curved line of the shadow was spoiled by something lumpy.
Sam stood up, trying to suppress his hope while also watching carefully.
As the last useful rays of sunlight played across the sand, Sam walked toward the dip. As he got closer, he started walking more quickly, his heart beating faster. During daylight hours it would have been impossible to spot, because the camouflage netting blended perfectly with the color of the sand. But now, with the shadows, the color differences were clear.
Sam was boiling hot, but not from the jog. He was thinking about that game little kids play where someone hides something and they tell you how close you are to it—warm . . . warmer . . . getting warmer . . . hot.
And Sam was boiling hot.
19
THE MEASURE OF A PLAN
SAM HAD TO STAY BENT over to stop his hair from getting caught in the camouflage netting as he looked around Jasper’s tiny campsite. A folding table and quad bike took up most of the floor space. The faded orange paint was peeling off the machine, but the words on the tank were still readable: AL MINYA 4X4 RENTALS. Small holes had been dug into the walls for storage, perhaps for a candle and radio, though everything was gone now. Only the table and bike had been left behind, or so Sam thought until he shined his flashlight under the table.
The item was half buried in the sand and looked as though Jasper had used it for a footrest. Had it been too big to carry or simply not needed anymore? Sam pulled EEF’s missing metal detector from the desert’s sandy grip; the thick metal shaft was warm after a day baking in Jasper’s pit. The small canvas find bag, where the operator would place anything found while out scanning the sand, dangled from the handgrip. From the way it swayed in the evening breeze, it seemed empty, but Sam opened the pouch anyway. He hadn’t gotten this far without learning to check everything closely. And this time his instincts paid off. Tucked in the bottom of the bag, and barely visible, was a folded piece of paper, which Sam opened immediately and used his flashlight to read closely.
Saturday, July 18
Dear Jasper,
I am thrilled you have decided to accept my offer. Enclosed with this letter is the only clue I can offer you. Panehesy, as you may know, was a high priest of the Pharaoh Akhenaten, but it was also a ship that entered the Nile in 1942. I only recently came into possession of this information. I know it’s not much, but I am sure a man with your background will be able to make the most of it.
Jasper, I realize your motivation for taking on this assignment is strictly personal, but trust me when I tell you that there is far more at stake than you can possibly imagine. You are on the trail of one of Egypt’s greatest missing
treasures. The importance of this endeavor cannot be underestimated; neither can the people who oppose it. I don’t wish to cause you undue concern, but I would advise you to keep the details to yourself.
I look forward to your success and the opportunity to meet you in person, at which point I will be more than happy to share with you the full story behind this task you are about to undertake.
Yours sincerely,
Francis Verulam
Sam realized he was looking at the letter that had triggered his whole crazy adventure, and it brought a wry smile to his face to find out that his uncle had been given the “Panehesy is a ship from WWII” clue straight out, while he’d had to work it out the hard way. But the letter was only part of the discovery; it was what had been scribbled on the back that got Sam excited. The symbol and doodles would have meant nothing to Sam a few days ago, but knowing what he did now, he realized he had the coded coordinates for the Panehesy.
The night had arrived with a vengeance. With no moon the first few stars had the jet-black sky to themselves, but Sam knew many more would follow. Nowhere is the contrast between night and day more exaggerated than in the desert. Unbearable heat gives way to a biting cold that leaves first-time visitors suspecting that they have been teleported to the Arctic.
Away from the polluted glow of the city lights, darkness rules in the desert. As the light from Sam’s flashlight crept ahead of him, towering walls of blackness attacked from each side, beating it into a narrow path. Sam didn’t care; he needed to see only a few feet in front of him at a time.
There was no question of waiting till dawn. Not when he was so close. With the GPS to track his progress, Sam set out. As he’d figured out from the scribbles on the back of the letter, just 200 feet to the west and 165 feet southwest lay the Panehesy.
