The Soul Scarab

by C J Turner

  With a roar of acceleration, the jeep drove rapidly back down the long straight road, finally disappearing in a cloud of fine orange sand.

  ‘But your head, Blake … I really think…and why should Amunet …I need someone to tell me what is going on . . .’

  The indignant accompaniment faded gently away as the dust settled back on the lonely road behind them.

  Night falls swiftly in Egypt and high up on the skyline, delineated clearly against the deep cerulean backdrop, Amunet saw the exact profile that she had been searching for. Two pale spurs of rock reared up ghost-like from the dun coloured mountain range, exposing a narrow defile between. This was where she had to go.

  Curtly she told Natheer to wait and keep out of sight while she reconnoitered the area. There was still that air about her that had the reluctant reis obeying her orders without question. She set off alone towards the nearest of the soaring cliffs.

  It was very dark now in amongst the black shadows at the base of the towering bastions of rock. The last light from the pale horizon was only just visible far to the west, where one or two kites, late seeking their perilous roosts, still wheeled in the dusky sky high above, their shrill cries echoing hauntingly across the chasm.

  The loose shale underfoot made hazardous going; scrambling up she eventually came to a small flat area hidden behind some tumbled boulders. Squeezing through with difficulty, she cautiously peered over the edge.

  Down in the black depths of the narrow gorge, a snake of flickering torch light was heading directly towards her eyrie! Amunet congratulated herself that her instinct had proved right – she would certainly have been trapped if she had gone directly into the gully.

  The cavalcade of shadowy figures wound its way ever closer, until they were directly below her. From her vantage point, she could now see clearly that the leading figures were those of Ahmed and his strange old companion. Fiercely, she scrutinised the men nearest to them, she could just make out the paler blur of their faces in the wavering light, but the particular face she sought was not amongst them.

  Eventually, they came to a halt in front of a massive flat rock face where the narrow defile came to an abrupt dead end. The men bunched together in an uneasy, silent pack behind their chief. Surprisingly, Ahmed also stepped back amongst his men, allowing his companion to come forward.

  The ragged figure of old Khalid shuffled in front of the other men and as he did so, seemed to transform, straightening up, and appearing taller and stronger. Striding closer to the rocky wall of the canyon he raised his arms in exhortation; faintly even from this distance Amunet could hear his voice lifted in an incomprehensible diatribe which echoed eerily back to her. Unnervingly, she actually felt the hairs lift on the back of her neck, as she stared down mesmerised at the scene below her.

  Lit by the flaring smoky torches, the flickering witch light threw grotesque shadows that leapt and crawled crazily over the black rocks. The uncanny scene took on the melodramatic semblance of a stage setting in some ancient amphitheatre.

  Khalid’s arms fell to his sides and his head on the stringy vulture neck, quested forward like that repulsive bird of prey, as he peered intently at the ground in front of him. As the echoes of his voice died away, it seemed to Amunet that he was waiting, or perhaps, listening for something.

  As the silence intensified and palatable apprehension thickened the air, the rocky heights towering over the little group seemed to crowd closer, hostile and threatening.

  Whatever confirmation he received, if indeed that is what he had been waiting for, seemed to satisfy the old man. With a curt gesture, he turned to the men, brusquely indicating the cliff in front of him.

  Even from where she was crouched, Amunet could clearly see that the nervous men were not happy with their instructions, but Ahmed barked an order and reluctantly they went for spades and pick-axes and tentatively started to excavate the rock face.

  They had been hard at it for some time and it was now quite dark. The dark blue velvet sky was aglow with twinkling silver light and Amunet shivered, suddenly aware that she was now both stiff and very cold.

  Without warning, a low rumbling was heard, like distant thunder. The ground below their feet shuddered and the watching girl became aware of little trickles of sand and rock scattering down from the heights above her. The men froze, then panic-stricken, threw down their tools and ran back further down the canyon. Ahmed shouted after them angrily and they stopped in confusion, clearly undecided which threat posed the greater danger. Amunet’s first startled reaction was that they had inadvertently set off an avalanche, but the muted sounds seemed to be coming from inside the mountain.

  Khalid, who had been agitatedly striding up and down waving his arms about in impatient anxiety exhorting the men to greater efforts, abruptly stilled. Walking stiffly over to the shattered cliff face, he laid the palms of his hands flat against the rock. It was now difficult to make out where the terrifying reverberations were actually coming from as the gravelly thunder echoed around the soaring rocky canyon, ricocheting off the limestone heights until the small group of terrified people reeled in the centre of a roaring maelstrom of sound.

  Conversely, the old man remained perfectly still, poised and listening. Gradually the rumbling drew away until the weight of perfect silence drifted heavily back over the uneasy scene. The oppressive atmosphere pressed down like a suffocating leaden blanket.

  The men crept unwillingly back, the whites of their eyes rolling in the gloom as they huddled together, ill at ease and whispering anxiously to each other. Hardly aware that she was moving, Amunet drew closer to the uncanny drama being enacted below. All eyes were fixed on Khalid, and she managed to slip in closer behind a projection of jagged rocks. Well screened, she warily raised her head over the top but found to her chagrin that one of the men had moved immediately in front of her, blocking her view.

  Her eyes widened incredulously as she saw that it was Ahmed himself, his whole posture taut with nerves. He must have retrieved the amulet from Khalid, as at first he appeared to Amunet to be repeatedly kissing the jewel. Then she realized that he was merely tapping it against his teeth in an unconscious gesture that betrayed his mental strain. The gold and rich colours of the necklace shimmered in the shifting red light from the torches and she bit down on her lip hard to suppress a startled exclamation. All her concentration was focused now on snatching her property back.

  The subsequent explosion of sound, and the terrified screams of men made no impression on her, as she edged stealthily forward, intent on her quarry to the exclusion of all else.

  Blake drove with a cold, controlled fury that effectively kept Max pinned to the back of his seat, and silenced the myriad of questions burning to be asked. The Professor was certain where he was making for, he had studied the printout very carefully when making his calculations, and the area was not unknown to him. Now he threw the jeep across the rough terrain in his terrible urgency to get there before Amunet could, he devoutly hoped, get into serious trouble. The fact that he had seen her in action only added to his fears, as he now had no expectation that she would show any of the caution a normal person would use when they found themselves in a dangerous situation. She had no fear and no damned common sense either, he thought savagely, as they at last pulled up, and he and Max climbed out of the jeep, the older man stretching with relief at finding himself still in one piece.

  They had arrived on the opposite side of the wadi from where Amunet had started, and by now it was quite dark; the moon was not yet up and the shadowy desert only dimly illuminated by the silver star shine. That they would find trouble Blake was certain, and his forebodings were proved absolutely correct.

  It certainly had never occurred to Blake that either Amunet or the grey man, whom he had recognised as one Ahmed Rassim, last seen in court being sentenced to fifteen years imprisonment, would have the necessary knowledge to find the hidden tomb before Blake, even though Rassim now had the scarab amulet in his possession. It ha
d taken some very high tech equipment for Blake to decipher the rough location of Menkhepherne’s tomb, and he had been greatly helped by the information that he had acquired at the time of Naa’il death. Amunet, of course, had not access to even that amount of information.

  However, Blake had not taken account of Ahmed’s companion who also, it would transpire, have intimate knowledge of the whereabouts of the tomb.

  It was very quiet in the desert and starting to get chill; the velvety night sky wrapped them around in mystery and seemed to hold its breath.

  There was a subdued rumble, felt rather than heard, and Max shivered. ‘Thunder?’ he looked dubiously at Blake, who shook his head.

  ‘No, trouble! Let’s go.’

  They set off at a loping run towards the black tumble of rock that reared a jagged profile against the dark blue of the sky. Between two tall cliffs, they found a gully, at the far end of which a cluster of tiny red and yellow flames flickered in the darkness. Blake slowed to a halt and catching Max by the elbow, pulled him over to where a steep incline started to wind its precarious way up into the hills. About a hundred yards up, the path swung very close to the cliff edge, hanging right over the ravine and they could look down at the fire lit scene below.

  Immediately, a flicker of stealthy movement caught Blake’s eye. With furious consternation, he saw that Amunet was already down there, edging towards a foreshortened figure whom he recognised as Ahmed himself, now only feet away from her. Guessing what she intended, he went leaping back down the path as quick as thought, fiercely hissing to Max to stay put.

  Max was staring down in amazement at the peculiar goings on below and had decided for himself that it was unnecessary to join them. Fascinated, he continued to watch spell bound, and then suddenly several things happened at once.

  Ahmed was haranguing a group of frightened workers, who reluctantly moved forward to resume their attack on a flat rock-face, which was showing signs of earlier assault. A deep crack had appeared in the middle of the scarred stone, with many splintered fissures running from the main crevice. The first two men swung their pickaxes with renewed will, and Max heard the metallic ring as their picks bit into the rock. The crack widened dramatically, and a large piece of the rock face sheared away and crashed down amidst a thick opaque puff of ochre dust.

  When the air had cleared, a square, obviously man made opening was revealed in the cliff wall. The workmen forgot their former unwillingness, greed and curiosity overcame their fear, and they crowded closer. The old man hurried over and with surprising strength, thrust them roughly aside. Ahmed also started towards the opening, but when he saw his companion’s evident intention of entering the tomb first, shouted to him to stop.

  Khalid pulled up abruptly and half turned, snarling something over his shoulder which Max could not hear, but which obviously enraged Ahmed. The old man moved forward again, but Ahmed, his face a livid mask of fury, snatched a revolver from his pocket and shot Khalid three times in rapid succession in the back. The multiple impact spun Khalid round and he flung up one arm, long bony fingers extended accusingly at Ahmed, his face contorted in a rictus of pain and hatred. Then he fell heavily across the threshold of the tomb, his blood spattering blackly over the white sand.

  The shots echoed shockingly loudly in the sudden tingling silence and galvanised Amunet into action. Springing forward, she snatched at the scarab still hanging from Ahmed’s nerveless hand. Startled by the unexpected attack, with a knee jerk reaction he raised the gun again, this time on the flying figure of the girl.

  But Max had whipped out his own revolver as soon as he saw Ahmed draw his gun from his pocket. He had Ahmed in his sights, even as the other man took aim. Two shots rang out and Ahmed’s gun was smashed out of his hand. He staggered forward, looking round in bewilderment, before abruptly falling to his knees.

  Simultaneously, Blake had charged down the gully, grabbed Amunet round the waist, and hurtled them both into the tenuous shelter of a shallow depression in the rocks.

  Ahmed, a puzzled expression on his face, looked towards the man and white-faced girl; his hand clawing impotently in the empty air between them and then he too crashed face down into the sand.

  Blake heard Amunet gasp and impetuously start forward, but he roughly yanked her back, thrusting her behind him. His eyes narrowed and he wiped one hand over his face as if he could physically eradicate the image before his eyes.

  For the moon had risen and stark silvery light glittered on the hilt of a golden dagger standing proud in the middle of Ahmed’s back. Just for a moment, there was a moment of complete stillness as it glittered malevolently in the moonlight.

  Before he could move, a resounding crash reverberated throughout the whole canyon as a vast gust of sand billowed violently out of the tomb entrance. The torches were extinguished instantly, plunging them all into thick choking darkness as an avalanche of rock swept down from the cliffs above, obliterating everything in its path.

  As the billowing, dun coloured cloud of fine sand engulfed them, Blake spun round and clamped Amunet to him, pressing her head into his shoulder. The hideous grinding tumult of the landslide roared thunderously in their ears, the air took on a solid quality of choking gritty dust, the sheer scale of the unleashed forces of nature terrifying, but he held her slender body close, shielding her completely with his own.

  After what seemed a long while, the noise abated to a few clinking pebbles rolling down the scree and Amunet, feeling the pressure of Blake’s hand shift, hesitantly lifted her face away from his shoulder and looked up at him. His hair was grey with dust, and there was a white shade around his mouth, but he was smiling as he bent his head to kiss her forehead.

  Unexpectedly, what had started as more a gesture of reassurance, rapidly ignited into fierce longing as he covered her dusty face and throat with frantic kisses. She gave herself up to his need with matching urgency, thrilling at the feel of his hard muscles bunching under her exploring fingers as she felt his weight and size overwhelm her.

  Who knows what may have happened then if Max’s anxious voice had not called them both back to the present time.

  Shaken, they moved away from each other and stepped out from the overhang into a different world.

  Chapter 16

  They never found the body of old Khalid. The whole area was considered too unsafe to do much investigating, with several more minor slides occurring over the next few days. Natheer and his men had suffered no harm but had been seriously alarmed at the quaking ground underfoot and the reverberation of the avalanche they had felt and heard even from the other side of the gully.

  How many of Ahmed’s men had managed to escape and how many were buried under the tons of rocks which had engulfed the area, was never known. Certainly, they had all disappeared. The entrance to the tomb was completely obliterated; indeed the landscaped had been so violently altered that it was now very hard to pinpoint where it had originally been.

  Miraculously, Ahmed’s gun had been found a little way off, where Max, in a magnificent feat of marksmanship, had shot it out of his hand. Ahmed’s body was also recovered, or what remained of it. Astonishingly, his death was attributed to heart failure, as despite being considerably battered and broken, these injuries had been caused by the rockslide and had occurred after death.

  Max had been certain in his own mind that his second shot had been responsible for Ahmed’s death, and his feelings were mixed when no bullet hole was found in the body. Nor was the situation improved when no stab wound was revealed either, indeed there was no apparent cause of death.

  Blake, denying the evidence of his own eyes, did a complete volte-face and coolly denied what he had seen minutes before the avalanche. This, despite the passionate denials and protestations of both Max and Amunet, who both swore they had seen a dagger clearly protruding from the dead man’s back.

  To their intense disgust, he postulated the theory that this impression could have been an optical illusion, conjured up by his earlier r
evelations and the moonlight.

  ‘Answer me this! If you were right in what you claim to have seen, what happened to the stab wound, the dagger and who, most importantly, threw the wretched thing in the first place?’ Blake would triumphantly close each endless argument with these irrefutable questions, and they would look at each other in baffled perplexity.

  For whom, indeed, could have thrown the dagger? There had been no one behind Ahmed. He had been spun round, they had thought originally by the impact of Max’s incredible shot, to end up with his back to where Khalid’s corpse lay sprawled across the tomb entrance. No one else was behind him; the workmen were huddled in a bunch some way off, in front and as far away from the dead body as possible.

  Blake’s inexplicable interpretation of the events that night had sorely stretched Max’s patience to the limit. His feathers were further ruffled when Amunet, whose account of what they had see that night had vehemently agreed with his to begin with, now seemed to have second thoughts. She had only seen the dagger for a split second before Blake had swung her round and hidden her view of the body. He must be right, she argued doubtfully to Max – they could not possibly have really seen a dagger in Ahmed’s back! Perhaps a trick of the moonlight and the swirling dust had created an optical illusion? But she did not sound convinced, even to her own ears.

  ‘What utter rubbish! Do you expect me to believe that you and I, from totally different directions, were both subject to some sort of mirage? I have more faith in my eye-sight and my judgment than that, I thank you!’ Max replied irascibly.

  They were in their suite back at the Hotel at Luxor, waiting for Blake to return from another meeting with the authorities. Now she was beginning to sound exactly like Blake and irritated, Max pointedly opened his newspaper with a loud flourish and retired behind the first page.

  Amunet curled up in a comfortable armchair and stared unseeingly at the wonderful panorama of the Nile spread before her. However, she was blind to the busy comings and goings on the waterfront. Idly, she fingered the little turquoise scarab, hanging round her neck again on the golden chain which Blake had had repaired for her on their return to Luxor. Both she and Max were thinking deeply and each, coming from entirely different directions, came up with a surprisingly similar theory.