The Amun Chamber

by Daniel Leston

David led the way. The room was as silent as before. Probing the darkness, Rashidi bumped into the low table. “There’s a paraffin lamp here,” he said. “Give me a second and I’ll—”

  “That won’t be necessary, Ahmed.” He’d already found what he sought. Igniting his lighter, he held it over the piece of furniture he earlier mistook for a couch. It was a narrow bed. Yousef lay face up on it, his eyes open, his thin arms limp at his sides.

  Rashidi knelt, feeling for a pulse that wasn’t there. “He’s dead, Professor,” he confirmed. “But I don’t see any sign of a wound anywhere.”

  “That’s because he was smothered.” David stooped, picking up a heavy, brocaded pillow from off the floor. “The bastard used this instead of his knife to finish him off. Probably just before I came in. Apparently, torture wasn’t necessary to find out what he wanted to know. The pillow was his attempt to make it appear as if Yousef simply died in his sleep.”

  Rashidi stood, heaving a sigh.

  “And maybe it’s the way we should leave it,” he said. “For now, perhaps it’s best to let people think just that. We can discuss it back at the hotel, but at this moment I don’t see what possible good can come of reporting this to the police.” He paused, turning his face to David. “Besides, whatever would we tell them?”

  They left everything as it was and returned to the car.

  Rashidi drove.

  David sat in the back with Elizabeth, holding her in his arms and thinking it wasn’t going to be easy getting the old Bedouin’s face out of his mind. In all likelihood, the body would be discovered tomorrow. He just hoped it would be Khaleel, not young Nawal. The poor lad deserved better.

  * * *

  Heikal consumed the better part of an hour returning to his rented car parked one street over from the Qaddis. Caution dictated a circuitous route. The last thing he wanted was another encounter with Manning, though any risk of this happening was slight. However, he must be careful, for it was definitely proving a night for unusual occurrences.

  Perhaps weirdest of all, he thought, was the obliging nature of the old man. A true puzzle. Incredibly, he seemed to be waiting for him, wanting to tell all. Even more inexplicable, the pathetic old fool offered no resistance when the pillow was pressed to his face. Except for Manning’s untimely intrusion, it was near perfect. Two minutes more and he could’ve been out of the house with no one the wiser. Now his only consolation was in knowing it was Oristano must eventually give the order to eliminate Manning and his three friends. And with all the information Heikal now possessed, that time was rapidly approaching.

  This pleasing prospect was on his mind as he drove through the deserted streets. After what happened tonight, he was going to enjoy killing Manning. In fact, he was quite looking forward to it. When reaching the town’s main harbor, he parked in the unlit gravel lot adjacent to the public docks, then walked out onto the concrete pier. Three hundred yards out a weathered chain of high rocks jutted straight up from the black surface of the sea, forming the outer loop of Matruh’s famed lagoon. Somewhere beyond it the Media lay at anchor.

  He found the modest launch tied off near the pier’s end. Bored with waiting, Pauley was stretched out fast asleep on the bottom of the boat, his head supported on a plastic seat cushion. Climbing in, Heikal woke him with an ungentle prod of his foot.

  * * *

  The two men sat on the extended aft-deck of Medea’s flying bridge until well after midnight; and having told the events of the past twenty-four hours, Heikal waited as his solemn-faced employer contemplated their next move.

  Oristano knew the critical importance of the next several hours. Success or failure teetered in the balance. Their future actions must be thought out carefully. Due to the circumstances of Heikal’s unfortunate encounter with Manning, his own direct involvement was now unavoidable. It wasn’t the way he normally liked to conduct business, but so be it. As much as he preferred pulling strings from a safe distance, he sure as hell wasn’t about to let the treasure of a lifetime slip through his fingers for lack of taking a few risks.

  Still, he understood the incalculable value of maintaining a cool head. It was his long-held opinion that reckless bravado was never an acceptable substitute for intelligent prudence. Yet in this instance, he also knew, his choices were going to be limited. What he really needed was more time—but time was now something in damned short supply.

  He got up from his cushioned chair and stepped over to the railing, watching the moon’s reflected light cast a purplish tinge over the muted shoreline. He recognized his initial anger with Heikal was more instinctive than rational. The big man had actually done quite well. Considering the information he gained—and how close Heikal came to pulling it off—he really couldn’t fault the decision to enter the old man’s house. How could he? Given the identical set of circumstances, he’d probably have done the same. In fairness, it was simply bad luck that Manning showed up when he did.

  Too late to worry about it now. He took another deep drag from his cigarette, expelling the smoke into the night air.

  He considered the problem, now wondering if perhaps he was looking at this from the wrong angle. Was Manning’s return really a setback? Maybe not. He pondered this, thinking perhaps he’d been too hasty in his judgment. Might not this actually work in to his advantage? The longer he reflected on its ramifications, the more confident he became. The taped conversations Heikal made in Alexandria had given him a clearer insight into the workings of Manning’s mind. Would the good professor be any more inclined to contact the police now than he was after the killing of Hassan? Not likely. Why, he’d have to be insane to even consider it.

  The logic of this was compelling.

  Damn, but didn’t all this put Manning in a box? If the professor assumes—as he now must—others now know of the old man’s secret valley, then his only viable option will be to try and reach it as soon as possible. And this suited Oristano just fine. After all, he reasoned, wasn’t finding the treasure precisely what he hoped Manning would do all along?

  Over his shoulder, he said, “So, tell me, Sabir, just how much to you know about this desert region the old man described?”

  Heikal shifted in his chair.

  “Almost nothing,” he admitted. “I’ve been to Siwah only once—and that over twenty years ago, long before the government travel restrictions were put on. But I do know a straight line between Qara and the old Masrab el-Istabl cuts through some of the driest and most desolate land in all of Egypt.” He paused. “You’re certain they’ll go in search of this valley?”

  “Guaranteed, my friend. If the treasure exists, then it’s there.”

  “If you’re so convinced, then let me kill them now, right here in Matruh. With the four of them dead, we’d be the only ones alive who know of its existence.”

  Oristano dismissed this with a jerk of his head.

  “And just how would you propose doing that?” he asked. “Break into their rooms and slit their throats? Maybe blow up their hotel?” He took a last drag on his cigarette before flipping it out into the darkness. “No, Sabir, we’ll let them continue their little hunting expedition. The smart move is to let them to do what they’re trained for—only we’ll be right there if and when they succeed. Be patient. Why eliminate anyone until it becomes absolutely necessary?”

  Heikal accepted this reasoning. “Then we’ve got other problems to solve, don’t we? It’s going to take some time and effort to gather up everything we’ll need. There’s vehicles, provisions, the best available maps—all easier for Manning to acquire than us. You given this any thought?”

  “I’ve a few ideas, yes. But we can discuss it further in the morning. Go get some sleep. Ari has a suite prepared for you. We can finalize everything tomorrow.”

  Oristano remained by the railing for some time after the big man left, listening to the light surf breaking on the distant rocks and allowing his imagination to soar. Was the greatest single prize of antiquity actually out there? It bog
gled the mind to even think it. Like almost everyone, he knew Alexander had once traveled to Siwah to consult with the Oracle. But was it actually possible that the greatest conqueror of the ancient world came this way a second time—a time hundreds of years after his own death? He always felt most comfortable when dealing with proven facts and logical probabilities. But this! This went far beyond anyone’s wildest conjecture, for if true it would easily be the best-kept secret of the ages.

  East of Paraetonium, Egypt, 71 C.E.

  “Do you see it, master?” asked Nebnefer. The tiny point of light was very faint on the night horizon, yet constant, surely no figment of the imagination. If anything, it seemed to grow stronger as the Horus heaved ever closer to the black coastline. He now pointed with his outstretched arm. “See? Left of the bow!”

  “Just barely,” replied Satepihu. “But there should be—”

  “There! Another is close beside it. I can see both!”

  “Your eyes are sharper than mine.” The High Priest rested his hand on the young priest’s strong shoulder. “Order the sail brought down, and inform the helmsman he has his target. Have you instructed him what to do?”

  Nebnefer nodded. “He’s confident in his ability to steer the Horus between them. The incoming tide and high winds are still in our favor. They will take us into the inlet. His biggest fear is we may run onto unseen shoals before reaching the beach. Perhaps I should put a lookout up on—”

  “It won’t be necessary,” said Satepihu. “There will be no shoals.”

  “Master?”

  The High Priest smiled at the younger man. “Consider what we’ve done over these past two days. Do you think Amun would bring us this far, only to have our efforts dashed upon rocks?”

  Nebnefer lowered his head. “No master.”

  “Then go and do as I bid you. Trust in His protection. All will go as planned.”

  And so it did.

  With a full six hours of darkness remaining before dawn, the Horus was not only solidly beached within the narrow cove, but all of Menna’s young soldiers were hard at work alongside Nebnefer’s priests, loading the first wagons with the upper layer of grain from the ships massive cargo hold. Content all was going as planned, Satepihu took both Nebnefer and Menna aside for a brief consultation.

  “Once the bags of grain are all fully loaded,” he said to Nebnefer, “I want them to leave immediately. One priest per wagon. We will need all of Menna’s people here, plus the rest of the priests to finish this. How many wagons will this leave us?”

  “Forty. Perhaps a few more.”

  “Will this be enough?”

  Nebnefer hesitated; then said, “It will depend on how much wood we afterward strip from the Horus. Our first estimate may put us short.”

  “Then keep the grain wagons down to ten. Whatever doesn’t get loaded will have to be scattered. For our purpose, the wood is more important. In the meantime, you best set your carpenters to cutting through the bow’s hull right away. The weight of our real cargo can then be carried straight out to the wagons. Go and see to this now.”

  Nebnefer hurried to obey.

  “You’ve done well, Menna,” said Satepihu. “Was it difficult bringing all these wagons and mules here in secret?”

  “No more so than expected, master. We came by little-known routes, well away from those generally used.”

  “And you’ve made all the necessary preparations for our long trip?”

  “All that you instructed has been done.”

  Satepihu was silent for a time, now pondering the potential problem of the galley. He then asked, “How close does the nearest road pass to this cove?”

  “Not close, master. On horseback, perhaps an hour.”

  “And what have your lookouts reported? Any caravans in the vicinity?”

  Becoming confused as to where this was going, Menna said, “The only one of which I’m aware is coming out of Alexandria—but it’s at least another three days before it crosses south of here.”

  This was as the High Priest hoped.

  “Good. Then listen to what I now tell you,” he said. “I know you have much yet to accomplish this night, my friend, but I have one more task for you before we leave.”

  “Whatever it is will be done, master.”

  “It disturbs me greatly that much of the Horus will remain for others to eventually stumble upon. What I want is for you to bring in all of your outriders now and set them to digging as large a pit as they are able. I will instruct Nebnefer to leave the wagon holding all the necessary tools and equipment needed. When we have removed all the wood our excess wagons can haul, they will remain behind for another two full days. Their task is to cut away all they can in this period, then stack and bury it in the pit. Whatever remains must then be burned to the best of their ability. Then and only then are they to follow. Do you understand?”

  “It will be as you say.”

  Satisfied, Satepihu, now stood alone and watched all the bustling activity around him. Everything was proceeding as planned. But he knew their long journey was only just beginning.

  So far to go. And so very much yet to be done!

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was approaching two o’clock before Gobeir and Rashidi finally left David’s room to retire for the night. They did so knowing Ruth Lefebvre hadn’t suffered the same fate as Leila Mahfouz and Yousef Mehra. A late call to Al Gami by Gobeir confirmed her to be alive and well. Thankfully—and for reasons as yet unknown—the trail of horror had skipped over her.

  Elizabeth remained; much calmer, but not completely over the trauma of the evening’s events. On one point the four of them were in total agreement: if they were to thwart the plans of this vicious killer from Cairo, then an immediate attempt must be made to locate Nawal’s mysterious valley. The secret was now definitely out. Any delay would put whatever was there in jeopardy.

  Speed was now the overriding factor. However, it left David with many unresolved questions—not the least of which was his growing concern for Elizabeth’s safety.

  Holding her in his arms, he wondered when he first realized he was in love with her. The physical desire had always been present; but it took their current situation to finally expose the real depths of his feelings—and more incredible to him, the knowledge that his feelings were actually returned. But it carried a hefty price tag. Short of taking her straightway out of Egypt—effectively abandoning Lionel’s discovery to plunderers—how else was he to ensure no harm would befall her? Any attempt to achieve one objective at the cost of the other was no real solution, he knew, but what else was left to him? He simply wouldn’t gamble with her life. No matter what the prize.

  “We’ve got to talk . . .”

  “Don’t say it, David,” she said, her arms tightening about his neck as she lifted her cheek off his shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, what you’ve been waiting to tell me.” She looked up into his face, her eyes resolute, her voice determined. “I’m going with you, and there’s absolutely nothing you, or Lewis—or anyone—can say that will change my mind. So don’t even try.”

  He shook his head. “Think what you’re saying. After all that’s happened—what we now know—it’s just far too dangerous to even consider.”

  “You can’t stop me,” she insisted. “Please, David. It’s what I want to do. What I must do! This thing—whatever it is—cost my grandfather his life. And people are still dying because of it!” She swallowed. “I won’t say it doesn’t scare the hell out of me, because it does. But I won’t be left out of it, either. We’ve come too far. We started this together, and we’re going to finish it together!”

  He gripped her shoulders, exasperated and touched by her obstinacy—and wanting her all the more. “Is it worth risking your life over? How can I let you—”

  “You might ask yourself the same question.”

  “It’s not the same, Elizabeth.”

  “It is! Damn it, I’m not a child. I know full well what I’m getting
into. But I can no more back away from this than you could! And even if I was willing—which I’m absolutely not!—just where would I go? Alexandria? Cairo? To Cape Cod? Whoever this maniac is, he’s already killed twice just to find out what we know. Can you honestly say I’ll somehow be safer if I stay out of this?” She waited, placing her hands alongside his worried face. “You can’t promise that, can you?”

  He knew she was right.

  “You truly feel this strongly about it?”

  “Yes, I do,” she said, her voice softer. Her slender arms encircled his neck yet again, and the warmth of her breath came as a sensual caress on his cheek. “And besides, my stubborn darling, whether you know it or not, I’ve waited a long time for you to come into my life—and I’m not about to let you out of my sight for one single moment. Not now. Not ever.”

  David drew her to him, seeking and finding her mouth; and the straining press of their bodies ignited the long-denied passion existing between them. Her lips were moist, sweet beyond belief or imagining, and when they parted under his he felt her quiver with desire. Enfolding her even tighter, he kissed her with all the ardor of someone who has thirsted far too long, and every fiber of his being thrilled at the urgent intensity of her response. Time ceased to have meaning as he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bed.

  Their first physical union was passionate, near frenzied, for it seemed he couldn’t have enough of her.

  Nor her of him.

  Was it hours that slipped past, he later wondered, or merely prolonged minutes of endless and exquisite ecstasy? He neither knew nor cared while in her embrace. They spoke little, for beyond the soft murmurings of continued discovery and mutual pleasure, they intuitively knew words were unnecessary. Lying naked and entwined in the silky darkness, they were aware only of the glorious sexual gratification each held in abundance for the other—and when they later made love yet again, it was for both of them even sweeter and more satisfying than before.