The Porus Legacy

by Daniel Leston

  The sprawling structure appeared worthy of what it held, bringing to David’s mind a veritable fortress of ultra-modern design. The inward sloping walls were fashioned of polished slabs of red Aswan granite, imparting the building’s exterior with a flowing sense of movement as well as solid impregnability. If this was the visual criterion the architect sought to convey, it was beautifully achieved.

  Once inside the double doors of high-security glass, they found themselves confronted by a phalanx of uniformed guards, one of who immediately stepped forward to greet them. Curious to David, he seemed vaguely familiar. Perhaps in his early thirties, he gave them a welcoming smile.

  “No need to show any identification, Professor Manning,” he said. “I recognize you both. Please come with me. The Director and his guest, Professor Bayoumi, are both awaiting your arrival.”

  As they followed him up a low flight of steps, it annoyed David that the man’s identity was so far eluding him. Finally, he asked, “I take it we’ve met before?”

  “Indeed, sir. Almost fourteen years ago, in fact. I was one of the three men privileged to assist our Director into the great tomb after the tragic death of his predecessor. I don’t expect you to remember, but my name is—”

  “No, wait,” interrupted David. It had come to him in a flash, his recollection putting everything into place. Apparently the original deal with the Egyptian government granting Rashidi complete authority to employ whomever he pleased still held. “It’s Ammar, right?”

  The man gave an appreciative nod, appearing genuinely surprised.

  “You do recall.”

  “Of course. Good to see you again. Believe me, there’s damn little—if anything—about that day I’m ever likely to forget.”

  “Nor I, sir.”

  The smiling guard then knocked once on a single door at the end of the hall.

  “As I said, they’re both waiting, so please go on in.”

  ****

  The exchanged greetings were heartfelt and long overdue. Though the four of them had kept in regular touch via phone, fax, and email over the past number of years, those sterile forms of communication were no substitute for actual one-on-one conversing between old friends. Certainly not analogous in any way to the shared pleasure they now enjoyed in the relaxed comfort of Rashidi’s plush office—and the mere act of catching up on lost time took well over an hour as they sat around a comfortable table.

  As fully expected, both men in due course got around to quizzing David on his most recent activities in Mongolia and Texas. Based on their long-established friendship—not to mention the collective secrets they still shared—he had no qualms about satisfying their curiosity, confident anything he told them would remain in this room.

  Such was his complete trust in both men.

  When a satisfied Bayoumi eventually used an opportunity to peruse the photos Elizabeth provided of young Jake, David and Rashidi took a moment to step away and pour a second cup of coffee.

  Of his two friends, he thought Rashidi seemed to have aged the most, which didn’t really surprise him. Now forty-two, he was no longer the young man who fought alongside him to preserve the integrity of Alexander’s hidden tomb from those who were intent on plundering it. As the heavy burden of being in sole charge of presenting the great conqueror to the world had fallen entirely on him, the effect of this showed to some degree on his drawn features. Though still as slender as David remembered, his once jet-black hair now contained considerable gray, his eyes telling of someone perhaps not getting quite enough sleep.

  Yet it wasn’t reflected in his present enthusiasm.

  “David, I can’t tell you how I’ve looked forward to your visit. Who could’ve anticipated it would take you and Elizabeth this long to finally come see the results of our work? There’s so much to show you, items on display that even I never fully realized were there until the final excavation work was complete. I think you’re going to find it all quite fascinating, my friend.”

  “I’m sure I will, Ahmed. ”

  David glanced over to where Bayoumi was still conversing with Elizabeth.

  “I take it Omar’s been a regular visitor here since the exhibit opened?”

  “Definitely. More times than I can recall—even going back to the period when this building was still undergoing its final phase of construction. Then his main interest was in our state-of-the-art security systems. In fact, we consulted often on a number of pioneering features incorporated into our present internal design.”

  “I never realized this was one of his interests.”

  “Initially, it wasn’t. Instead, it was a grim necessity forced on him by circumstances. As the Cairo Museum’s Director of Antiquities, he has many additional responsibilities that now more than ever require his constant attention. New skills are needed. I’m sure you heard about the vandalism and thefts that occurred during the lengthy occupation of Tahrir Square before the toppling of President Mubarak.”

  “Yes, I think the whole world was watching.”

  “A sad situation. The famed museum simply wasn’t prepared for such a spontaneous and destructive event. Facing directly onto Tahrir Square as it does, it became a prime target for criminal opportunists. A good number of display cases were smashed, their contents pilfered. It had all the signs of degenerating into a major disaster. As you know, the treasure-laden building is well over a century old, and hardly in the best condition. In this modern age, heavy iron gates by themselves offered no real protection.”

  David agreed, always an advocate that a long-term solution must eventually be found and implemented. “Still and all,” he said, “we read that the museum’s actual losses were relatively minor in comparison to the calamity that might’ve happened. It could’ve been far, far worse. Thankfully, the local militia intervened when it did.”

  Rashidi nodded.

  “It was a very close call. On a brighter note, however, Omar has since made enormous strides toward retrieving the bulk of what was looted. It took him considerable time and effort, but what little is still missing are only minor items.”

  “Well, at least that part is encouraging. And what about you? Were you affected by all the political turmoil? We heard foreign tourism virtually dried up across the country during that time.”

  “To a degree, it did. Yet here in Alexandria we fared somewhat better. Being so far north from the most publicized violence probably helped. Now, despite occasional demonstrations from the outlawed Muslim Brotherhood, the disruption has settled down significantly—particularly since the recent election of our new president this past spring. It’s perhaps unfortunate that he comes from a military background, but I believe our citizens have simply grown weary of all the instability and economic disorder in their lives, wanting a return to some sort of normalcy.”

  “Understandable,” said David.

  Rashidi noted the time as Elizabeth put the last of her photos away, a broad smile now returning to his face. “Well, my friends,” he said, “I believe we can begin that private tour I promised. Our security people have had ample time to clear the premises of visitors. So if we’re now all—”

  “Oh, wait a moment,” interrupted Bayoumi. “I almost forgot. I meant to give you this earlier, David, but it quite slipped my mind.” He lifted his briefcase onto the table and snapped it open. From it he pulled a small package. “This is from old Yasir Haleem, of all people, someone I’m sure you and Elizabeth must recall from your last visit.”

  “Indeed.” David remembered him well. Haleem had been the loyal right-hand man of old Sharif Khafaghi, the family head of one of Cairo’s major black-marketing enterprises in Egyptian antiquities. Despite this seeming conflict of interests, both men had been highly instrumental in helping him solve the Alexander riddle. “I wasn’t sure he was even still alive. He must be—what?—at least up in his mid-eighties by now?”

  “Easily. Oddly enough, I’ve developed a mutually beneficial relationship with him over the past several years . . . i
n itself a rather curious development when one considers his checkered past.”

  “Really?”

  “Very much so. If you like, I’ll explain more over dinner tonight. With his many former ties inside the black market he’s actually been a great help in our reacquiring many of the recently looted items from the Cairo Museum. As a return favor to him, I promised to personally deliver this to you.”

  “So what is it?”

  “No idea,” shrugged Bayoumi. “I assume the attached paperwork will explain everything. By the way, Yasir asked that I not open either, just make sure you received it.”

  David detached the folded envelope and read the paper inside.

  It was handwritten in English and painfully brief. It stated only that this was a long overdue gift, David’s to keep or dispose of entirely as he pleased. Beyond this, it explained nothing.

  Without comment, he slid the note over for the others to read while he carefully unwrapped the package.

  The contents froze all of them in place.

  A stunned Elizabeth broke their collective silence.

  “My God, David, is—is that real?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  David had no adequate response to Elizabeth’s question, for he honestly couldn’t say with any surety if what he held in his hand was indeed real or not. He could only shake his head. His knowledge of such things was at best limited, putting this object outside his area of expertise. Yet his every instinct said this was both genuine and extremely old.

  Which only made it all the more fascinating to behold.

  It appeared to be a huge, natural pearl, quite unlike anything he’d ever seen before—and far larger than he even imagined possible. Its rarity in these modern times would have to be truly exceptional. Always considered to be the most precious of gems across the ancient world, this one was roughly comparable in size and shape to an egg, filling the entire center of his open palm. It was a lustrous white-gray in color with an iridescent sheen of pink overtones playing across its smooth surface. Adding further to its impression of probable ancient authenticity was the elaborate chain of intricately fashioned gold links that held the pearl in suspension—though in this, as well, the artistic style of its craftsmanship was foreign to David, quite unlike the many Mediterranean cultures of antiquity with which he was familiar.

  Asian, perhaps?

  David placed the necklace on the table for all to better examine.

  Now curious as to why neither Rashidi nor Bayoumi had yet to speak, he lifted his eyes and saw not only their amazed expressions, but also a peculiar exchange of intense looks passing between them, which indicated something of significance was going unsaid.

  So what did they see or recognize, he wondered, that he was missing?

  “Well?” he eventually prodded. “I’m no expert here—and you two obviously know something you’re not yet sharing with us. So what’s the answer? Do you think it’s the real deal—as old as it appears?”

  Rashidi gave a confirming nod, glancing once again at Bayoumi.

  “It’s actually both,” he said to David. “As for the age, I can give you every assurance it’s at least twenty-four centuries old.”

  David’s puzzlement only increased.

  “And you know this—how?”

  Rashidi took a long moment to reply.

  “I think maybe the best way to explain is to simply show you the evidence. We’ll make it the last stop on your tour. Just trust us, my friend. What you see will clarify everything.”

  He hesitated, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

  “Well, not everything, to be sure,” he then added, “but up to a point, anyway. Beyond that I foresee we’re going to require your considerable assistance.”

  “You’ve lost me . . .”

  Rashidi gave a faint smile.

  “I suspect Yasir probably involved you intentionally, David. Technically speaking, this artifact now belongs to you, does it not? And who has a better proven track record for making sense out of historical puzzles?”

  “Implying what exactly?” asked a wary Elizabeth.

  It was Bayoumi who responded.

  “Meaning it now appears that courtesy of our mutual friend in Cairo we’ve all just been handed one sizeable mystery. As you’ll both soon appreciate, we’re now faced with a true enigma that has profound implications. Once you see what we’re referring to, you’ll then know precisely what we mean.”

  As they left the locked office to begin their tour, Elizabeth slipped her arm through David’s. Into his ear she whispered, “Do you believe this is happening? Not complaining, mind you, but I’m getting the distinct feeling of deja-vu all over again.”

  She wasn’t alone.

  ****

  Their wide-ranging tour included the viewing of ten immense halls, each filled with an assortment of treasures that had been carefully removed and catalogued from the original tomb over a period of several years. For security purposes, all the display cases were constructed of shatterproof glass and stainless steel, each anchored solidly to the floor.

  Not surprising to David, the last two halls were devoted exclusively to the thousands of Ptolemaic gold coins from the array of chests he initially saw in situ fourteen years before deep in Egypt’s western desert. By itself, these alone were of inestimable value, their pristine rarity unique.

  Then came the magnificent centerpiece of the entire exhibit.

  The high-tech enclosure was so large as to require two separate viewing levels to properly encompass all its wonders—and for both David and Elizabeth it remained every bit as incredible as they remembered, literally breathtaking in its awesome splendor. Protected within a thick hermetically sealed glass containment was an ancient funeral car of striking proportions, and above its great wheels rose what could only be described as a miniature temple of extraordinary detail and workmanship. Slender Ionic columns, each entwined with delicately fashioned garlands, upheld a vaulted roof encrusted with twinkling jewels. A winged victory guarded each corner, and projecting out from the cornice were ram heads, all with graceful horns sweeping back and around, symbols of Alexander’s religious ties to Egypt’s supreme god, Amun.

  Dazzling as this was, it was the massive sarcophagus sheltered within that continued to draw people from around the entire world. The enormous casket was constructed of solid gold, a true masterpiece of Greek craftsmanship, its four sides depicting battle scenes, exotic animals, and a multitude of mythological scenes of every kind and description.

  Perhaps even more spectacular was the coffin’s remarkable lid.

  It was constructed of hundreds of pieces of colored glass, each held in place by an arched framework of gold. The ancient glass was somewhat milky and flawed, yet transparent enough for light to pass through. By utilizing a huge, tilted mirror strategically placed above the lid, tourists were thus allowed to glimpse its contents. Here, as if somehow frozen in time, was the mortal remains of the greatest conqueror of all antiquity, someone still considered by many to be the most remarkable man ever produced by western civilization.

  After an appropriate amount of time, Rashidi led the four of them to the promised exhibit hall that he’d purposely saved for last.

  “I told you earlier,” he said, “that even I didn’t know the full extent of what was inside the tomb. There weren’t many surprises, to be sure, but it took the final excavation and removal of what you just viewed to reveal everything—and this only after the culmination of uncounted hours of preparation for it all to be transported to this facility.”

  David well appreciated the incredible complexities of such an operation.

  “You’re to be commended, Ahmed. From all I’ve seen, it was a truly magnificent achievement. You must be very pleased.”

  Rashidi accepted the compliment with a satisfied smile as he unlocked the final exhibit hall, one he informed them wasn’t yet available for viewing by the general public. Somewhat smaller in size than the others, the room contained an assortment of art
ifacts that apparently were still undergoing extensive ‘in house’ examination.

  “Please.” He gestured them towards the first case. “See for yourselves.”

  Prominently displayed was a beautiful necklace that immediately caught David and Elizabeth’s full attention, for at first glance it appeared to be an exact twin in every way to the one back in Rashidi’s office. Not only was the natural pearl of equal—if not even greater—size and luster, but also the complex chain of links holding it in suspension looked virtually identical in both design and execution.

  “Let me get this straight, Ahmed. You’re saying this—this came from within Alexander’s very—?”

  “Exactly. And since there can be absolutely no question of its age, I can only suspect Haleem’s surprise gift to is probably also authentic. The logic seems quite inescapable, wouldn’t you agree?” David compressed his lips, thinking no other conclusion could be drawn? So far nothing was making a whole lot of sense to him.

  An equally puzzled Elizabeth now voiced an obvious question; one David was likewise beginning to contemplate.

  “Forgive me for proposing this,” she said, “but is there any chance the necklace from Haleem was also in the tomb? That maybe it was somehow found and secretly removed during the excavation without any of your people knowing of its existence?”

  Rashidi began shaking his head even before she finished.

  “None, whatsoever,” he responded. “As Omar can attest, every single item in there was scrupulously photographed a dozen times over—and from every conceivable angle, I might add, in situ before being catalogued, tagged, and handled.”

  David had no doubts all such precautions were taken.

  Yet the query had been necessary.

  “Okay, gentlemen, so then where does that leave us? Obviously we’re going to have to contact Haleem for some sort of explanation as to just where in hell he acquired that piece—and the sooner the better.” To Bayoumi, he said, “You’ve known him the longest, Omar. Can you arrange for us to pay him a visit?”