Map of the Dead: A mystery thriller that's a page turner

by Murray Bailey

  She didn’t look up; she had her head buried in the notebook.

  Alex was disappointed not to see the pyramids from the train, and they were soon in the countryside, running along an irrigation channel, heading south. It must have been parallel to the Nile, Alex reasoned, although there was no sense of where it lay. On both sides he could see fields, occasional buildings, palm trees and, in the distance every now and again, sandstone mountains.

  The main crop appeared to be sugar cane. Some shacks had dried cane propped against the side and Alex wondered whether it was used for shelter as well as food. They passed many pickups with so much sugar cane loaded on top that the drivers must have had trouble seeing the way. Heavily laden bony donkeys were also prevalent. He saw a dead donkey in the ditch between the road and channel and Alex was glad Vanessa wasn’t looking.

  The train had bursts of speed and, in places, stopped for no apparent reason. An Australian passenger in their carriage commented that the track was in poor condition and the slow sections were due to a fear of derailment. Great.

  Vanessa finally put the notebook down. “Well,” she said. There was a strange glint in her eyes.

  “Well what?”

  “All has been revealed.” She tapped the book. “Your friend Pete has kept good notes, luckily for you.”

  “Stop being so cryptic and tell me what you’ve learned.”

  She grinned. “Well, firstly it confirms that you weren’t involved in the break-in at Highclere. Pete planned it all, even as far as getting a gang to execute the burglary. It seems he has contacts through the security firm he works for.”

  “Pete was playing two angles. He was working on Ellen to find out what the treasure was and was also hoping for a payoff from the burglars if they got away with it.”

  “You said firstly. Is there something else?”

  “There’s a list of things from the exhibition. He marked the genuine and the fake, such as Tutankhamen’s headdress.”

  Alex reached for the book. Vanessa held it out but didn’t immediately let go. “This is gold dust. It’s great news for both of us. For you because we have evidence it was Pete and not you. Secondly, there’s another story with a different angle. It’s better than I thought. With this, maybe I can write something award-winning.” As he opened the book she added, “So let me have it back, because I’m guarding that with my life.”

  He grinned and began to read the plans and outcomes Pete had kept note of.

  In the evening they were offered dinner, which consisted of different types of bread and a cup of Nescafe. When Alex asked for a glass of wine, the waiter just scowled at him.

  “No sense of humour, that one.”

  Vanessa said, “Muslim country with strict rules. They obviously do have a sense of humour, it’s just different to ours. Remember, Marek said not to have expectations.”

  “Did you notice Marek said it twice? In ancient Egypt they used to repeat spells over and over. Like in the Book of the Dead. Telling a god something again and again made it more truthful. It struck me that maybe they still do this.”

  Vanessa went in search of the lavatory. When she returned she was pulling a sour expression. “They certainly don’t have any expectations about clean toilets.” She sat and looked at what Alex had been doing.

  He’d drawn some symbols on a napkin.

  “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know if you are aware but they found these symbols in a Sinai cave. They’re thought to be almost four thousand years old. A professor of archaeology presented his findings to a conference in Paris.” Alex pointed to the first symbol. “The professor began by saying that it was clearly representative of a woman and this is possibly representative of the matriarch. The next is a small bird, a quail perhaps, possibly being the primary source of meat or—as is more likely—part of a town’s name. The next symbol is sometimes representative of bread, but here the professor said there were two hills nearby, so thought the bird and hills meant a town known as Quail and Two Hills. The next symbol is a horse. Well, you’ll have to excuse my sketch!”

  “I’ll use my imagination.”

  “OK, horses were thought to have been introduced by the Hyksos, who ruled Egypt between the Old and New Kingdoms, and may either represent her importance as a leader or perhaps her wealth as a horse owner. The professor then pointed to the next symbol and said some people thought it to be a plough, symbolizing that the society was not at war, but was one of peaceful farmers. However, the professor thought it was a bellows, meaning to get air and to be able to live. And since the next is obviously a fish, he interpreted this as meaning they turned from being farmers to fishermen to stay alive. Perhaps this is a story about a female leader at a time when food wouldn’t grow—she then showed them how to fish so that they would not grow hungry.

  “The professor paused and then pointed to the final symbol and said it was the universal sign for a star. From this he concluded that the society was religious, worshipping the stars or perhaps a single star.”

  Vanessa said, “The final shape is the Star of David. The symbol of the Jews.”

  “Ah.” Alex took another sip. “You’re one step ahead of me. The audience were very impressed by the professor’s interpretation, that was until a Rabbi stood up and asked for the microphone. When he could finally speak he said, ‘Professor, I am afraid your interpretation is incorrect. You see, overall we have a woman. The next symbol in the row is a chick, then we have two mounds and a donkey—or, more specifically, an ass. The plough symbolizes to dig. I would say the fish is a mackerel and, of course, the final symbol is the Star of David. You see, this is Hebrew. And Hebrew should be read from right to left. What this actually says is the equivalent of holy mackerel, dig the ass and boobs on that chick!’”

  Vanessa laughed and clapped. “Very good. Of course, I knew it was a joke immediately.”

  “You did?”

  “There was a flaw in your story. The Star of David didn’t become a symbol of Judaism until about four hundred years ago.”

  Alex drew an upside-down triangle on the napkin so that it was the right way round for Vanessa. “A pyramid,” he said. He then drew another triangle, this time the wrong way for Vanessa. “It’s been argued that a right way up pyramid is a symbol of God’s power coming down to Earth—you know, like the sun’s rays.”

  “Like the famous painting by William Blake—with God reaching down from the clouds.”

  “Right. And the inverted pyramid is man reaching up to Heaven.” He raised his arms forming a Y. Then he drew the two triangles together, forming the Star of David. “What you might not know is that ancient Egyptians used the hexagram to represent Sirius, the most important star and constellation in the ancient Egyptian night sky. Its rise each year coincided with the Nile inundation. Some people believe the pyramids of Giza are aligned to represent the stars of Sirius. One of the shafts from the Great Pyramid actually points to Sirius, as though it’s a guide for the dead pharaoh to reach the afterlife. Most people think the Egyptian afterlife was underground, but it wasn’t. It was in the night sky—and principally the constellation of Sirius, where Osiris and Isis were.”

  “It’s interesting, but there’s still a long gap before being adopted as the Jewish symbol.” She poured them both more water. “Let’s not talk religion anymore. It’s all speculation. At least what Ellen and Marek have discovered can be proved.”

  “I hope.”

  “If you become famous, what will you do?”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far. I don’t think I’ll make a fortune. If there’s anything valuable, I’m happy for it to stay in Egypt. I’ll be proud to see it in the Cairo Museum.” He thought for a while. “I guess fame is its own reward.”

  She checked her watch. “Almost three hours to go. God, I could sleep for England!”

  He rubbed his face, suddenly overcome with fatigue.

  Vanessa said, “We arrive after ten, so I’m going to catch a few zed
s.”

  When the waiter cleared their trays, he stopped at the next compartment. Joachim stood, looked through the waste on the trays and lifted out the napkin with the symbols. He walked to the next carriage, pulled out his mobile phone and pressed a speed-dial number.

  “Yes,” a gravelly voice answered.

  “They’ve been discussing symbols,” Joachim said, his voice expressing his excitement. “And I’m looking at some right now. MacLure wrote them on a napkin.”

  “And just left them for you to find?”

  “You’re dubious?”

  “I’m realistic. What are the symbols?”

  Joachim described what he was looking at.

  The old man was silent.

  “Gershom?”

  The old man said, “The last one worries me… the Star of David.”

  “If it is from the map, then the clue may not be as cryptic as we suspected.”

  Gershom scoffed, “It is not from the map. The star symbol is far too modern to have come from ancient Egypt. No, my worry is that if it came from the artefact then it may be a fake.”

  “Or perhaps MacLure has made a mistake.”

  “Perhaps.” Gershom coughed and Joachim waited for him to speak again.

  Gershom said, “There is another possibility—Mr MacLure is on to us and playing a silly game.”

  “Then I will put a gun to his head and just get him to tell me the truth.”

  “No. You know we promised no killing, Joachim.”

  “I won’t kill him, just threaten.”

  “And if the threat doesn’t work? No, Joachim, you will wait and only use that as a last resort. You will follow him again tomorrow and let me know as soon as you learn something more.”

  They ended the connection. Joachim stared at the row of symbols and thought about what the old man had said. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow is a day that could change the world.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  1325 BCE, Ugarit

  Serq snapped, “What’s wrong with you? I hope you’re not squeamish at the sight of blood!”

  Yanhamu tried to compose himself. The man he hated—the man who had spoiled and killed his sister—was here. After leaving the academy Yanhamu had requested a posting to Gaza, but the captain wasn’t there, and after searching local records, he could find no proof Captain Ani had ever been there. Now he looked down into the face that had haunted his nightmares for the past eleven years.

  “I asked you what is wrong!” Serq shouted.

  Yanhamu covered his mouth and ran from the makeshift temple. Beyond the bales of papyrus flowers he bent double and vomited. A priest enquired if he needed a prayer but Yanhamu waved the man away. He stood straight and gulped in the air, trying to force himself to return. As he looked around, he watched the priest he had waved away. The man occasionally placed a bowl beside a wounded man and encouraged him to drink from it. As he watched the priest collect another bowl and fill it with something white from a jug, an idea came to him. A scribe always carried the tools for writing, which included arsenic, the substance that rich women used to whiten their skin and doctors as part of a remedy. Yanhamu also knew it could be used as a poison. He walked to the bowls, and after first tasting the milky substance he poured it into a bowl and then surreptitiously emptied his pot of arsenic paint into the liquid.

  He carried it carefully to Serq, who eyed him suspiciously.

  “A thousand apologies, sir.” Yanhamu bowed, averting his eyes and feeling better for it. “The incense—I think it was affecting me.” He placed the bowl on a table beside Serq’s chair. “Sir, this is goats’ milk, if you are feeling up to drinking it.”

  Serq looked disdainful. “I’ve only got a slight leg wound, Khety. I’m only here to ensure the goddess favours me and prevents infection. Now tell me how you knew there was to be an ambush today.”

  “I knew we had information about troop movements of the enemy that had been obtained from documents in the possession of a messenger. I was translating a tablet that seemed to be list—a food order—but I got suspicious. There seemed to be code. There were numbers and town names in the wrong places, sir. They were in the same places in the other document, which I recall had the same numbers which couldn’t be explained.”

  “So you couldn’t be sure it was a trap?”

  “No, sir.”

  Serq thought for a moment, staring at one of the braziers. “Then it was very bold of you to send the message to my force. If you had been mistaken, the loss of face would have been unacceptable. And you know the punishment for that.”

  Yanhamu nodded and noticed Serq still seemed to be deep in thought.

  Eventually, the leader of the Fourteenth said what was on his mind: he began to talk through strategies and battles he had fought. Yanhamu found himself only half listening. He kept staring at the bowl, wondering what would happen if Serq drank it; was there enough arsenic to kill? He had heard of men foaming at the mouth and writhing with terrible gut pain after being poisoned. He touched the electrum amulet he now wore around his left wrist and thought of his sister. She would be in the Field of Reeds, he was certain. He was also certain that Laret watched over him at night like she had as a child after their mother had died and father left. He smiled at the memory of her pretty face and generous heart. She was waiting for him but, if he murdered this man, there was no way he would be allowed through the Gates of Judgement. Ammut would destroy his ba and it would be an eternity of nothingness.

  Serq picked up the bowl. He continued to talk about victories and the glory of war, especially under General Horemheb.

  Yanhamu stared at the white liquid as it swirled with the man’s gestures. And then Serq placed it to his lips.

  In that instant, Yanhamu saw a priest behind shake his head. The man had a Bast mask and, as Yanhamu looked closely at the cat’s face, he saw his sister’s eyes looking back, pleading with him.

  “No!” Yanhamu struck the bowl from Serq’s hand.

  The leader roared with fury and Yanhamu fell to his knees. “Your pardon, sir! I saw an evil bug drop into the liquid.” His voice trembled as much as his hands and he gripped the amulet and prayed for strength. He could not kill the man like this. His sister had given him a sign that this was not meant to be, but now he knew his life clung to his body like a spider dangles on a thread.

  Yanhamu waited, prostrate before his new leader.

  Serq stood.

  The whole temple became filled with chattering. The occasional moan, chanting and sound of the sistra was gone. Yanhamu glanced up and realized Serq was looking west. Everyone who could stand did so. Everyone was looking west.

  The night sky had a bright orange patch tinged with purple.

  “It’s Ra!” someone shouted. “Ra has returned from the underworld!” There were more shouts and chanting and bowing in supplication.

  Yanhamu stood and stared at the strange light. The purple edges looked like cloud, billowing, forcing its way up against the night’s dark cloak.

  And then the ground trembled—a weak shake at first and then it was like being on the footplate of a chariot driven fast over rutted soil. Men cried out. The shrine to Bast tumbled. A fire started on the ground where a brazier had fallen and then caught a bale of papyrus.

  Yanhamu fell and pulled himself up next to Serq, who was holding onto his chair.

  “That is not Ra,” Serq said quietly and, as if in response, the air was filled with a terrible roar, like a thunderclap, only this didn’t end.

  A group of men, closest to the fire, pushed the burning bale away and stamped down the flames on the ground. The head priest composed himself and began to lead prayers. Yanhamu and the others kneeled and extended their arms towards the light.

  Serq knelt beside him and muttered again, “That is not Ra.”

  Yanhamu braced himself for another reaction to Serq’s heresy, but if anything the roar began to diminish. They stayed like that for a long time, the priests lamenting and Serq occasionally grumbling h
is doubts. Yanhamu noted the moon had travelled a full house—an eighth of the night sky—when he heard another far-off sound. At first it was a whisper in the air and then the sound of a million locusts heading towards them. The priests stopped and everyone stood and stared west again. The glow was still there, more faint and purple as though the dark clouds were building and pushing the sun back into the underworld.

  Then they saw it, a wall of water rushing into the valley, tearing up trees and ploughing through the earth like a river breaking a child’s mud dam. Almost as soon as they spotted it and started to wonder what it was, the tidal wave crashed through the temple and swept them away.

  It took two days for the men to reunite into the semblance of an army. They had been ten miles from the sea and yet the tsunami had travelled far beyond the temple of Bast. Apephotep had toured his bedraggled forces and proclaimed the gods were on their side because large numbers of the enemy had been destroyed in places. They were on the verge of a great victory. Yanhamu didn’t see Serq after the wave struck. He was assigned a unit of twenty and, for the first time in his military career, found himself at the front line. Initially, there was trepidation, but as they marched north through the hills they saw the enemy was routed. Everywhere they went was destruction; whole towns were swept away and in their place was a fetid land covered in jetsam. By the time the horns sounded to signal the end, Yanhamu was relieved that he hadn’t drawn blood even once. He gathered his men in one of the main encampments and they celebrated long into the night with beer, singing and dancing. Animals were butchered and roasted, for there was certainty they would be returning home. And when they were tired of talking about all the women they would make love to, they talked of how they would spend the gold they would earn as the heroes who defeated the Hittites.

  In the morning, the leaders and high priests returned from a meeting with the general. They moved amongst the units and reported the news that the great victory had been in the name of Ra who had spoken to Horemheb and told him it was time to return to the Two Lands and drive out the usurper of the crown. They would also receive twice their allotment of gold. A ripple of cheers ran through the legions as they heard the news and then the whole army began to chant the name Horemheb.