The Amun Chamber

by Daniel Leston

  He got out to investigate as Rashidi pulled the truck in behind.

  Not unlike a small, natural amphitheater, the basin was scarcely twenty yards across, enclosed on the south by the trailing edge of the limestone bluff, and on the west and north by equally high hills of crumbling shale. Eons of wind and erosion had littered the floor with tumbled rocks, but in David’s estimation this was more than adequate to establish a protected camp. The site also had distinct possibilities from a strategic standpoint, for atop a slumping peak not far back towards the entrance was a tilted stone ledge ideal for posting a guard.

  Even in the deepening twilight, Gobeir appeared whipped as he climbed out of the truck. “So, what’s it to be?” he asked. “This it for the night?”

  “Seems as a good a place as any. Too dark to backtrack now even if we wanted to.”

  Gobeir gave a grateful nod, then turned to Elizabeth. “What say you and I break out the propane stove, my dear? If you’ll tackle the coffee, I’m willing to try my hand at cooking up some dinner. It’s my turn, I believe.”

  “You’re on.”

  David used the time for a private word with Rashidi.

  “That upper ledge over there will make a perfect lookout. It should give ample warning if anyone approaches. I’m thinking it’s best if we split the watch between just the two of us. Lewis looks beat.”

  “I was going to suggest the same thing, Professor. I doubt he’ll give us more than token resistance. He hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure today’s heat took its toll. He’s going to need all the rest he can get. As difficult as today was on him, the next few days may even be worse.”

  This settled, they took advantage of what faint light remained to them.

  Due to the lateness of the hour, any detailed exploration of the basin itself could wait until dawn. However, there was still time to get a better feel for their general location, for as evidenced by the dull, red glow lingering above the crest of the hill, the sun had yet to dip completely below the horizon.

  Flashlight in hand, they worked their way up the steep incline where the crumbling shale of the encircling hills merged with the limestone bluff. By the time they reached the top the flashlight was no longer necessary. Dark as it already was in the basin below, up here the last vestiges of a brilliant sunset still burned crimson and gold in the western sky.

  David knew from the map that the end of Yousef’s hidden valley must surely place them near the northern rim of the vast Qattara Depression, but it momentarily startled him to see just how close they actually were. Walking across the flat, weathered summit of the bluff, he stared out into a huge, sweeping void without visible boundaries. Below him, the land dropped away in a series of dizzying cliffs to the desert floor below—not unlike looking out at the Grand Canyon, but with the opposite side missing!

  Rashidi pointed southward to a distant patch of green, now so faint as to be hardly discernible beneath the enveloping cloak of nightfall.

  “See there,” he said. “You can just barely make it out.”

  “Siwah Oasis?”

  “It can be nothing else, Professor.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  They heard Elizabeth shouting as they came down the steep slope. By her apparent excitement, she’d found something of great interest and was now eager to show them. “Over here,” she called, gesturing with her flashlight. “It’s the damnedest thing! You’re not going to believe this. ”

  Her find was a natural alcove recessed some fifteen feet into the lower face of the cliff. Partially concealed behind a high vertical fold of stone, its opening went unnoticed in the dark when they drove into the basin. But it was the interior of it that thrilled her. More to the point—what it contained.

  It was a spring-fed pool, maybe seven feet across and almost twice as long. A narrow ledge ran part way around to the left—and here knelt Gobeir, happily splashing handfuls of water over his face. He sat back on his heels as David played the flashlight’s beam across the rippled surface, saying, “I just couldn’t resist, old boy! I wouldn’t recommend drinking from it, but it sure feels good shedding all the dust and grit.”

  David grinned, shaking his head. “Who would’ve thought it,” he said, stepping closer and directing the beam downward. Not surprising, the light didn’t penetrate very far into the murky depths. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

  “No, can’t say I have. But I’m told they’re not all that uncommon in the Sahara. And this one’s damn old in geological terms. Look there at the smooth undercutting just below the surface. My guess is the water level’s been constant, eating away at the limestone for many thousands of years.”

  “Looks like we picked the right spot for our campsite. This’ll certainly take some restrictions off our water use. We can draw from here for cleaning and—”

  “Oh, it means a lot more than that,” cut in Elizabeth. “Not only do I get to wash my hair after we eat, but you guys just lost any excuse you had not to shave in the morning.”

  Gobeir chuckled as he got back to his feet. “I guess I should’ve known there was a downside to this. Well, you heard the lady. So much for roughing it.”

  Once their evening meal was finished, Rashidi took the first watch on the upper ledge twenty yards back. A night wind had risen with the moon. Now it whistled eerily through the crevices above, settling a growing chill across the basin floor. Elizabeth poured the last of the coffee into Gobeir’s cup; then turned off the gas burner. When she sat back down beside David, he wrapped her in one of the heavier blankets.

  “It’s amazing how fast the temperature drops,” she said, drawing the edges up under her chin. “I’m embarrassed to say it, Lewis, but I actually thought Ahmed was over-stating the desert cold when we shopped for provisions. Now I know he wasn’t kidding me.”

  “Don’t give it second thought, my dear. No matter what anyone tells you, I daresay the sudden change surprises everyone their first time.” He suddenly grinned, adding, “Even we native Egyptians!”

  “Are you speaking from personal experience?” Her curiosity was now piqued. “Come on, tell us . . .”

  “Well, if you must know, it brought me to mind of my first field expedition, something I haven’t thought about in a good many years. I was young, eager to put all my theoretical training to practice at a site northwest of the Faiyum.” He paused to remove his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Despite his good-humor, the weariness of the long day was showing on his face. “I was assisting an American team out of the University of Michigan, excavating pre-Christian ruins from the early Roman period. To make a long story short, when my first nightfall came, there simply weren’t enough blankets in the entire camp to keep me warm.”

  She laughed, as he intended.

  “This American team . . .” David asked, “was it led by Professor Zukor, by any chance?”

  “Zukor? Why, yes, it was,” he acknowledged. “Are you familiar with his work?”

  David lit a cigarette before responding.

  “Not really. I’ve heard the name, of course, and read a few of his papers. I think he eventually became involved with the American School of Oriental Research. Or maybe I’m confusing him with someone else.”

  Gobeir shrugged, looking down at his coffee. “Now of that I really couldn’t say.”

  Elizabeth changed the subject.

  “This is probably going to sound pretty stupid, guys, but just what exactly are we supposed to be looking for tomorrow? This is all new to me. I hate to think I might be tripping over something important and not even realize it.”

  “I wish I had a pat answer,” David said, “but there really isn’t one. For starters, we’re looking for any physical evidence that anyone’s ever been inside this valley. And I don’t just mean pottery fragments from ancient times. If you find even a gum wrapper, a cigarette butt—anything—then we need to know about it.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Lewis and I talked about this two night
s back. For our purposes, we have to assume whoever murdered Lionel and Nawal back in ’56 learned the whereabouts of their discovery and began exploiting it for himself. It’s possible it was known even before they came on the scene. Either way, the killer may have been a bit careless about hiding his activities. If so, then there could be little clues which might help narrow down our search area.”

  “He’s quite right,” said Gobeir. “Whatever clues we find are probably going to be of modern origin.” He set his cup down. “What I suspect we may have here is a set of circumstances not too dissimilar to the Deir al-Bahri cache in the Nile valley.”

  “I think I know what you’re referring to,” she said. “All those royal mummies found together back in the 1880’s, right?”

  “That’s the one. Stories had circulated around Luxor for years of funerary pieces and royal papyri being sold on the black-market—items bearing the names of Egypt’s ancient kings and queens. It was eventually learned a local family had found a tunnel complex hidden in the Theban hills and were treating its contents as their own private treasure-trove. Needless to say, they were quite prepared to kill anyone who threatened to expose their secret. The tunnel contained some forty royal mummies, many of them Egypt’s greatest rulers and their wives—all legendary figures whose mortal remains archaeologists thought long destroyed.”

  “And how did they come to be hidden there?”

  “Well, they surely would’ve been lost but for the efforts of the ancient priesthood. At the beginning of Egypt’s decline, they foresaw the rapacious anarchy and looting that was to come—and knowing themselves powerless to prevent this sacrilege, they secretly gathered together all these great pharaohs and hid them away, hoping to forever spare them from grave robbers and mindless thieves. It was a noble endeavor, and now Egypt is much indebted to them.” He paused. “In the end, however—”

  His voice trailed off into silence.

  Puzzled by this, Elizabeth asked, “But it worked, didn’t it? I mean, they’re all safe now, aren’t they?”

  Gobeir’s look remained somber.

  “Perhaps so. As in all things, time will be the ultimate judge. For myself, I must confess to having mixed feelings. As a student of history, I welcome the opportunity of studying and learning from their remains. What scientist wouldn’t? Yet I can’t help but wonder if Egypt hasn’t failed to give them the proper honor and respect that is their rightful due. I find myself questioning the morality of our x-raying, unwrapping, displaying—and yes, even sometimes dissecting—those who were once our revered kings. Was it for this ignominious purpose they were spared all these many centuries?” He moved his head sadly. “I think not, my dear. In truth, I believe an argument can be made we are no real protectors at all. Despite all our good intentions, perhaps we’ve committed the greatest desecration of all.”

  She had no reply.

  An awkward moment passed, then Gobeir forced a sheepish smile. “Forgive an old man’s rambling,” he apologized. “When I get overly tired I often—well, let’s just say it’s been a very long day.”

  “For all of us,” said David, thinking this was a side of Lewis he hadn’t seen before. “Dawn comes early. It’s probably time we all got some sleep.”

  * * *

  Oristano’s patience had about run out. He stood with his back pressed against the vertical base of the cliff, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The night sky above the rocky plain remained broken, a narrow band of moonlight still visible off to the east, a thick ceiling of impenetrable clouds overhead. By the dial on his watch it was fast approaching two o’clock, which meant almost forty minutes had elapsed since Heikal crept ahead to investigate what was clearly the valley’s shrouded entrance.

  So what the fuck was delaying his return?

  He resisted the urge to light a cigarette, knowing it too risky. And with good reason. Despite the masking efforts of a moderate wind, two sets of tire tracks were still visible in the sand—and by Heikal’s estimation, both were laid down within the past six hours. Now it was a matter of determining just how far in Manning’s small party had penetrated before nightfall overtook them.

  Another ten minutes slipped by before Heikal finally returned.

  Like a silent and ghostly phantom, he seemed to materialize out of thin air at Oristano’s side. “It’s a trap,” he whispered. “Three men for certain, about ten yards inside the pass. And it’s not Manning’s group.”

  “What—? How many did you actually see?”

  “Only the forward lookout. The others are hidden amongst the higher rocks on this side of the pass. I felt their presence.”

  Oristano stared at the big man, momentarily taken aback, but not questioning for an instant the reliability of Heikal’s judgement. But if not Manning, then who? Considering the lateness of the hour, there was precious little time to find out. It took him only seconds to reach a decision. They must take the offensive.

  “What chance these people know we’re here?”

  “Probably none,” said Heikal. “We crossed the open plain too far to the east to be seen. The sentry’s field of vision covers the entrance, but little else. Besides, the wind’s been blowing out of the west since nightfall. The engine noises couldn’t have carried anywhere near this far.”

  “Good. Then we’re in a position to spring a little trap of our own.”

  They backtracked almost forty yards before finding an angled slit in the cliff face suitable for their purpose. Heikal led the thirty-foot assent, finding the strongest handholds as he worked his way up. Oristano allowed him only a brief head start, then shouldered his rifle and followed.

  They climbed steadily in the dark, careful to dislodge as few stones as possible. Upon making the summit, they then worked their way back along a shallow depression to the upper lip of the pass. They covered the last several yards on their hands and knees; then peered over the edge. What Oristano saw only reinforced his high regard for the big Egyptian’s visceral instincts. Scarcely ten feet below two men lay in wait, both well concealed in the pocket of a ledged cove overlooking the floor of the pass. Any unwary entrant crossing beneath would be completely at their mercy.

  And the sentry?

  As if responding to this unspoken question, Heikal pointed further right to a ragged cleft in the opposite face of the cliff. At first glance, Oristano detected nothing, but after several seconds a slight movement near the top caught his eye. What he previously took as just another section of rock now revealed itself to be the exposed shoulder and forearm of someone ensconced between two vertical plates of stone. Fortunately, the man was facing the other direction, concentrating his attention on the lower opening of the pass.

  Oristano estimated the distance between him and this man at about sixty feet—a makeable shot with his Beretta in broad daylight, but far too chancy under the present conditions. The brisk wind only compounded the difficulty, for it was tainted with particles of dust. Unless the margin for error was significantly reduced, there was no guarantee of a clean kill. Nor was the rifle an option. There was still Manning’s group to consider. Its report would be heard for miles.

  The only alternative was to get closer.

  He communicated his plan with simple gestures; then edged backwards into the draw. That his partner was more than capable of taking out the two unsuspecting men below, he had no doubts. Coordination, however, was crucial. The sentry must be dispatched within seconds of his making his move. If not, Heikal would be directly exposed to the man’s line of fire.

  He crawled approximately thirty feet before silently re-emerging over the pass. A flat slab of rock in front of him provided a convenient blind. If his calculations were correct, the sentry was now less than forty feet away—and hopefully still facing the other direction. A quick glance back confirmed that Heikal was also in position. Knife drawn, he only awaited the signal to pounce. Oristano gave it with a hand gesture, watching just long enough to see him drop over the edge before rising to his knees and extendi
ng his gun arm across the stone slab.

  The expected furor from below came in two simultaneous shouts; one an unmistakable outcry of pain, the other a belated yell of alarm.

  For Oristano, the timing was perfect.

  Alerted to something amiss by the frantic commotion behind him, the sentry leaned forward to better ascertain what was happening—and this unguarded moment cost him his life. Anticipating just such a reaction, Oristano squeezed off three shots in rapid succession. The initial bullet struck the man squarely in the chest, throwing him backwards as if jerked by an invisible cord. The second and third were mere insurance, both hitting within a tight radius of the first. Delivered at such short range, all were lethal in themselves. Dead on his feet, the man slowly pitched forward at the waist in an exaggerated bow to his executioner.

  Pleased, Oristano was about to stand when he heard a faint snap behind him, a muted report that instantaneously stung his face with flying chips of stone. A bullet had smacked into the rock not inches from his head! He dove left, rolling clear as another tore through the lower sleeve of his khaki jacket and ricocheted past his ear. A second sooner and it would’ve lodged between his shoulder blades!

  The flat angle of the shots indicated their origin was from somewhere back in the shallow draw. Damn if there wasn’t a fourth man up here whose presence neither he nor Heikal had suspected—and the oversight almost got him killed! Lacking protective cover, he pulled himself into a sitting position and leveled his pistol. Luckily, he located his target straightaway, a lithe figure dashing headlong back up the draw towards an outcropping of rock. He led the retreating shape just slightly in his sights and fired off five quick rounds. This time the results were inconclusive. Though the man grunted in pain and gave an awkward lurch in mid-stride, he was still on his feet when he disappeared from view. One bullet for certain found its mark, yet it still wasn’t enough to bring him down.