“Not a problem. As for travel preparations—”
“Don’t give it any thought,” interrupted Elizabeth. “The company plane is ready at a moment’s notice to take us literally anywhere.” She glanced at a smiling David and winked. “Hey, my curiosity is every bit as piqued as you fellows.”
“Never doubted it for a moment, darling.”
He then tapped the display case with his knuckle.
“In the interim, I have to wonder how this piece came into Alexander’s possession in the first place. It’s quite unique. You say you’ve been studying it here in your lab for some time now, Ahmed. Any ideas where it might’ve originated?”
“Actually, we do. As near as we can tell it’s from the Indus River region of India. As for developing a theory of just how it initially got into Alexander’s hands, let me first ask you a question, David. I’m sure you’re probably familiar with all the innumerable Alexander myths and legends that sprung up over the past twenty-centuries—but I wonder if you’ve ever run across one story in particular that I’ve always found to be somewhat intriguing?”
“Which is?”
“It’s called the Porus Legacy.”
CHAPTER FIVE
When back in the director’s office, with Haleem’s enigmatic gift before them on the table, Rashidi spent a few minutes outlining the foundation for his obscure legend. He did so primarily for the benefit of Elizabeth, reviewing some of the less commonly known facts surrounding Alexander’s dramatic invasion of northwestern India in the year 326 BCE.
“With the Persian Empire firmly under his control, he chose to expand his domains yet farther, launching a campaign into what is now the Punjab of modern Pakistan. His rationale doubtless stemmed from pure ambition, a desire to eventually subjugate the entire known world. Perhaps as an additional incentive, he also knew that two former Persian Kings, Darius and Xerxes, had both claimed suzerainty over this area, even though their boast was at best tenuous. Regardless of his motives, in May of that year he fought what became his last major battle, defeating the much larger army of King Porus, the ruler of an ancient and populous Hindu state located predominantly between the Jhelum and Chenab Rivers. To this day many scholars still consider his brilliant victory to be the final ‘masterpiece’ of his military career.”
“So you believe that’s when the original piece came into his possession—the one removed from his tomb?”
Rashidi’s eyes shifted briefly from her to Bayoumi.
“Well, in our opinion,” he replied, “it’s as good an explanation as any. The powerful Kingdom of Paurava was a coalition of tribes grown immensely rich and prosperous through trade. Looking back—and though it’s simply not possible to prove, of course—this appears the most likely scenario. Plus, it would logically explain why the name Porus has ever since been attached to the legend. Too, the events that followed Alexander’s decisive victory on the banks of what was then called the Hydaspes River only lends further credence to this possibility.”
Elizabeth moved her head.
“Events?”
“Basically, Alexander was so impressed with Porus’ bravery and royal demeanor that he not only allowed him to retain his kingship, but he also established him as satrap of all his new Indian domains.”
Up to this point, everything Rashidi told Elizabeth was familiar ground to David, needing no elaboration.
Now he interjected, saying, “I think I see where you’re heading, Ahmed. Though the historical writings make no reference to this specific instance, on previous occasions it was recorded that whenever Alexander appointed native satraps to govern acquired territories, a formal exchange of gifts usually took place along with pledges of loyalty and allegiance. It’s only reasonable the same pattern would’ve been followed, right?”
“Precisely. In fact, if I were a betting man, I’d say the pearl necklace we found in Alexander’s tomb came from Porus, himself. If true, I’m also of the opinion that a very great deal more of the same undoubtedly changed hands that day, collectively forming the original basis for what eventually came to be called the Porus Legacy.”
David needed more details.
“This—this fable, or legend as you call it—can you be more specific? I mean, what exactly is the overall premise of the story?”
Rashidi obliged him.
“Well, in essence it says that at the time of his death Alexander was in possession of an incredible collection of rare pearls. A veritable treasure chest, if you will. Now whether it actually came from King Porus is unknown. It simply says the treasure existed, only to then quickly disappear, never to be seen again. It’s all rather vague and fanciful—hardly something in which Omar or I personally put much credence. Nor has anyone else ever done so to my knowledge. And really why would we? After all, none of it had any foundation in verifiable fact. Who could even keep count of all the many whimsical legends that eventually sprang up after Alexander’s death?”
He hesitated before continuing.
“But roughly four and a half years ago everything abruptly changed, giving both me and Omar reason to wonder if maybe the old tale didn’t deserve to be examined more closely at some future point.”
“When you say ‘abruptly’, I take it you’re referring to the discovery of that pearl artifact inside the tomb?”
“Indeed. As you can imagine, it put a whole new slant on our thinking.”
David readily saw why. Such an unexpected find could be construed as tangible evidence the old story had at least some basis in truth. However, as intriguing and thought provoking as this doubtless was for them at the time, he could also envision it still wouldn’t require any immediate urgency on their part to resolve. Why would it? After all, over the long span of twenty-three centuries it wasn’t as if any other part of that supposed treasure had ever turned up.
Until today, that is . . .
The reality of Haleem’s gift suddenly changed everything—and there could be no question this object was equally authentic! Hell, save for the actual pearl, the gold necklace holding it was a dead-ringer for the one from inside Alexander’s tomb!
Now David better appreciated the shocked look exchanged between both men when they glimpsed it for the first time. The tantalizing questions it raised were nothing short of immense.
“You haven’t yet got around to elaborating,” he then said, “but can I now go out on a limb and surmise whatever details exist on this ancient story of yours pertains solely to the Ptolemaic Dynasty?”
His assumption took both of them off guard.
Not excluding Elizabeth.
“An impressive deduction,” acknowledged Ahmed. “And you’re quite correct, of course, for I was just about to say as much. Mind telling us how you so quickly deduced this?”
“Not all that difficult when you stop and think about it, my friend. A couple of things, actually. First off, you must admit the term ‘legacy’ has a very distinctive connotation to it, the implication being it pertains to something of inherent value passed down from one generation to the next. And as to the second clue—well it came from what you just said a few minutes ago. After hearing that, tying it to the long line of Ptolemies who reigned here in Alexandria only makes reasonable sense.”
“What clue was that?”
“You said that according to the legend, the so-called treasure chest of pearls purportedly disappeared sometime shortly after Alexander’s death in Babylon. Not only was Ptolemy there as one of the generals dividing up the empire, but he was also actively involved earlier during the India campaign—thus any chest of pearls given by Porus would’ve been known to him. And let’s examine the facts. Since he was capable a few years later of literally hi-jacking to Egypt Alexander’s entire funeral procession as it was heading back to Macedonia, then it’s also likely he confiscated literally everything else the cortege may have contained.”
“Such as a possible chest of rare pearls?”
“Seems only logical,” David mused aloud. “At thi
s juncture it’s still pure speculation on our part. Then again, what better scenario explains the existence of what’s lying right here in front of us? The point is it definitely raises two very big unanswered questions, doesn’t it? On the one hand, is this a complete anomaly—in which case we may never learn the actual truth of it—or is this artifact in actuality only one of a very great many more still out there somewhere?”
While listening to this exchange, Elizabeth had picked up the necklace with a new-found appreciation. “Just out of curiosity,” she now cut in, “but what sort of value are we talking about for a pearl such as this—assuming that they’re as rare as you believe? Anyone care to guess?”
It was Bayoumi who responded.
“I’m no real expert either,” he said. “What little I do know came off the internet. Natural pearls anywhere near this size and quality have indeed become a true rarity in our modern age of cultured pearls, and are highly sought after. As to assigning a conservative value on the raw gem itself, the only example I found was the discovery of a pearl of similar size recently found off the coast of Bahrain that subsequently went up for auction in Abu Dhabi. When the bidding ended, a reputed representative of the Saudi Arabian royal family happily purchased it for just over three hundred thousand American dollars—and this for something with absolutely no provenance, whatsoever. One can only imagine what the final price would’ve been were it otherwise.” He paused, lifting his palms off the table before continuing. “Placing that particular pearl alongside the ancient one taken from Alexander’s tomb would be like—well, like comparing night to day, the intrinsic value of the latter going right off the scale due to its proven ancient association.”
“So a historical provenance is everything, right?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay, then please back up for a few seconds, guys, and bear with me.” Her eyes now flicked back and forth between David and Rashidi. “Unless I’m mistaken, didn’t you two just suggest there’s a real chance the entire Ptolemaic line kept a huge treasure chest of pearls from King Porus in their possession for over three centuries—and this piece may have been part of it?”
“That’s a possible scenario,” replied David.
“Then correct me if I’m wrong—but, if true, wouldn’t it then therefore logically follow that this necklace here may once have belonged to the last of that dynasty—to Queen Cleopatra, herself?”
David appreciated her growing excitement. If provable, this sort of provenance would put the artifact’s inherent value beyond all estimation.
“Basically, yes—but understand that it’s going to require considerable investigation on our part to confirm such a possibility one way or the other.”
“So where do we start?”
David smiled to see her eagerness.
“Where else?” he answered. “In Cairo.”
He turned and looked pointedly at Bayoumi.
“Which takes us back to square one, Omar. The sooner you can set up a meeting with Yasir Haleem, the better. I think we’re all of the opinion the wily old fox has a whole lot of explaining to do.”
CHAPTER SIX
The Eastern Section of Central Cairo, Eighteen Hours Later.
It was only chance that brought the unshaven man in a sweat-streaked shirt and dirty trousers back to the unpaved lot a full thirty minutes sooner than normal. There Samir parked his blue van in its regular spot, his premature return quite unplanned, atypical behavior for someone always known for being a methodical creature of habit.
Yet the middle-aged man had his reasons.
Between the growing discomfort of the intense September heat and his recent bout of intestinal troubles, on this day he took no pleasure spending his noon hour sitting at a his favorite restaurant. Not tempted to try anything solid, he found his customary glass of strong tea did nothing to ease the discomfort in his bowels. If anything, the overly sweet liquid had the reverse effect, souring his general mood even more than normal. Thus he broke with past custom and returned to his tedious post well ahead of schedule.
As Samir soon learned, however, this unintentional deviation in timing became significant, wholly altering the otherwise dismal expectations he held for the rest of the hot afternoon.
It came in the form of a late model, green sedan showing up a half block down as he was just about to light a cigarette, and he paused to idly watch the car park across from the old apartment building. Two men and a woman then exited the vehicle and began walking toward the building’s entrance. As they did so, Samir’s initial curiosity became one of intense interest, for even after the passage of more than a decade he now recognized the taller of the two men and the attractive woman with copper colored hair—and his recollection of their last encounter deep within the old medieval quarter produced a bitter taste in his mouth.
How could it not?
To this day his vivid memory of it remained painful.
The ill-conceived attempt by his boss to rob the couple had been badly managed from the start, though it was Samir who took blame for the debacle. Worse, it left him with not just two broken ribs, but a loss of status with his employer from which he’d yet to fully recover.
Was this an opportunity to finally redeem himself?
He pondered the situation only briefly, concluding there was really no chance he was wrong about the couple’s identity. No way! His eyesight was still good, his view of the street unobstructed.
It could be no other!
He located his seldom-used cell phone and punched in the private number for Abdel Khafaghi. It was answered on the fifth ring, the heavy voice of his employer sounding a bit annoyed at this afternoon disturbance.
“It’s Samir. Sorry to bother you, but I think you’re going to be interested in who just went up to see old Haleem. Two people we haven’t—”
“I’ve no time for games. If you’ve something to tell me, say it.”
Samir swallowed.
“It was Professor David Manning and his woman.”
The deep silence on the other end seemed to last for several seconds. When Abdel again spoke, his tone of irritation was no longer evident.
“Are—are you absolutely certain it was them?”
“I’m positive. There was another man, as well, someone I’ve never seen before.”
Again a lengthy pause.
“Well done. And you’re right. An interesting development considering all the time that’s passed. It requires some thought on my part. For now, just stay on top of the situation.”
“I will, sir. Anything else I should do to—”
“Remain where you are until they leave,” instructed Abdel, “then tail them from a safe distance, understand? Call me back later when you get more information, no matter how long it takes or what the hour. I want to know where else they go, and where Manning and the woman are staying in the city.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And one more thing. If you’ve any ideas of seeking revenge in your mind, just set them aside. At least for now, anyway . . . ”
****
It took but a few minutes inside Haleem’s oversize living room for David to confirm his original suspicion regarding his old friend’s motives for being so painfully vague in the single page letter he’d affixed to the necklace. For reasons as yet unexplained, the elderly man had rightly deduced this tact would virtually guarantee an arranged meeting at his residence within days after entrusting the perplexing package to Bayoumi for delivery—and as they were nowsitting in his apartment, it was obvious his ploy had worked.
Due to his advancing age—or perhaps complete boredom—Haleem happily spent the first half hour upon their arrival serving coffee and avoiding all discussion of the necklace. Instead, he used the opportunity to first catch up with the recent progress of David’s career, a subject he’d clearly been following through his recent contacts with Bayoumi. As flattering as this was, David now saw an opening to finally begin steering the conversation away from generalities and
toward the real purpose of their visit.
“I have to say, Yasir,” he began, “that it surprised me to learn from Omar here how helpful you’ve been over the past few years locating so many of the looted pieces from the Egyptian Museum. I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“How so?”
“In view of your long career in the black-market, you must agree it really does seem a rather curious contradiction. A bit puzzling, in fact. Makes me wonder what prompted the change.”
Haleem gave a dismissive toss of his hand.
“A small favor done for someone I consider a good friend, nothing more. Since my retirement after Sharif’s death, there are very few things that truly interest me anymore. Besides, the items in question were relatively minor, hardly worth our discussing. And in the process, well, if I stepped on a few toes here and there with my former contacts in the business, then so be it.” He paused, smiling slightly as he glanced at Bayoumi. “Believe me, I was more than willing to be of assistance in what I deemed a good cause.”
Haleem’s choice of wording now struck David as being curious. Stepped on a few toes? More than willing? It made him wonder if maybe something important was going unsaid—something significant that might better help his understanding of the overall picture. Did Haleem have another motivation behind his surprising assistance to Bayoumi? If so, his intuition said it must pivot around Sharif.
He felt it worth exploring.
“You know, I meant to ask Omar just when it was that Sharif passed, but never did. It couldn’t have been too long after Elizabeth and I were last in Egypt. I know he was gravely ill even then. We knew him to be an honorable man of his word. Without his and your help, I can’t imagine how we would’ve ever managed.”
Haleem breathed a sigh.
“Allah took my dear friend roughly four months after your departure. As his right-hand man for over sixty years, I was privileged to be at his side when his time finally came.”
David took the opening.
The Porus Legacy Page 4
