The Amun Chamber

by Daniel Leston

  Now Rashidi spoke.

  “You’re wrong, Professor,” he said out of the dark. “If you believe nothing else of us, I swear on all things holy, we never thought it would ever come to this. What you accuse us of is—is—” He paused to catch his breath, his emotion palpable. “We are not thieves, not looters. We are its protectors! You ask who first discovered the tomb? For us, the sacred resting place of Amun’s son was never lost to begin with. You want the truth, so there it is! We who are entrusted with his safekeeping have always known the tomb’s location.”

  Across the cavern, David stopped in his tracks. This is pure fantasy, he thought. Why am I even listening? Yet he did know why. God help his sanity, but there was actually something indefinable in Rashidi’s voice that prevented total disbelief.

  “Professor, did you hear what I—”

  “I heard you, Ahmed. It’s ludicrous. Are you telling me the ancient priesthood still lives? Lewis—you—the others—?”

  “Considering where you presently find yourself, is this so difficult to accept?”

  Oddly enough, it wasn’t.

  “Then you’re admitting it really was Lewis who killed Lionel? Seems to me he couldn’t have been—what, maybe twenty, or so? Kind of young for that kind of work, or did murder just come natural to him?”

  Unseen in the dark, Rashidi heaved an audible sigh.

  “His motives were never what you think, Professor. It’s true that Lionel and Nawal were—of necessity—silenced on his orders, but I assure you their deaths brought him no pleasure. Quite the contrary. Please understand, there was simply no other way to prevent their remarkable achievement from becoming common knowledge. If any other avenue existed, he would’ve gladly taken it.”

  “Try running that past Elizabeth. A killer with scruples . . .”

  “You’re quick to heap scorn, Professor. Too quick for one who has no knowledge of what actually happened.”

  David swallowed his anger, thinking all of this verbal sparring was pointless. “Okay,” he said. “So, convince me.”

  The younger man took a few moments to gather his thoughts; then said, “It’s your prerogative to judge him harshly, Professor, but consider these facts. If Gobeir was the heartless killer you seem predisposed to believe, would he have stopped with just Lionel and Nawal? What about Nawal’s brother, Yousef? And what of Lionel’s friend and possible confidant, Paul Cameron? If for no other reason than simple prudence, wouldn’t such a man as you describe have ordered their elimination, as well?”

  A valid point, David admitted.

  “But he didn’t,” continued Rashidi. “Despite his sworn oath to preserve the integrity of this valley, he gambled on the possibility neither of them knew what happened on that fateful desert trip. Rather than spill more blood, he instead took on the burden of having them closely watched for a period of years until finally satisfying himself that this was truly the case.”

  Listening to this argument, David acceded the point. But as interesting as all this information was, it wasn’t going to aid in his escape from this hellish place. He began walking again, probing ahead with the flashlight. “Keep talking, Ahmed,” he said. “Tell me more.”

  “Such as?”

  “The gold disk, for openers. How was Lionel able to get it out of Alexandria without Lewis knowing?”

  “Quite simply, Gobeir never even discovered it missing until a great many weeks after the fact. He knew Lionel and Nawal had found the valley—but the tomb, itself? This was thought inconceivable. Thus when the full magnitude of their achievement was realized, it was already too late. Both perpetrators were dead, the whereabouts of the disk a complete mystery. No clues ever surfaced to say what became of it.”

  “Then low and behold, Elizabeth and I show up all these years later. And right at Lewis’ door, no less. What a godsend for him.” David took a brief moment to rest. He’d noted what appeared to be a faint, horizontal seam on the cavern wall. Scarcely visible, it was difficult to track. Just where it might lead was yet to be seen. “You know, if all you say is true, just why the hell did you let us get where we are now? I can think of a half-dozen places along the line where you two could’ve stopped our investigation cold. So why didn’t you?”

  “It’s rather difficult to explain . . .”

  “Try.”

  Rashidi obliged.

  “Understand, Professor, your arrival with the disk took us totally by surprise. We weren’t prepared for such an unforeseen eventuality. To say we were merely thrown into confusion would be an understatement. A whole array of factors had to be considered and resolved. And quickly! We needed to buy time to devise a workable strategy. Thus it was preferable—at least initially, anyway—to allow your investigation to run its course unhindered.”

  “Preferable to what?”

  “To letting you go elsewhere for assistance; which is what you undoubtedly would’ve done if we hadn’t appeared behind your endeavor. The last thing we wanted was to have others—such as Omar Bayoumi, for instance—involved in your search.”

  “The problem of containment?”

  “Exactly. All else became of secondary importance.”

  “Seems to me, Ahmed, you could’ve had it both ways. Why not play the part and still block the investigation?”

  “To what end? The result could only be self-defeating, for consider the outcome if we succeeded. If you soon reached a dead end on Lionel’s trail, how would you and Elizabeth dispose of such a remarkable artifact? Honorable man that you are, it almost certainly would’ve ended up on display in the Egyptian Museum for the whole world to view. The prospect of this happening only compounded our dilemma, forcing us to tread a very fine line.”

  “If that’s so, aren’t you leaving out the obvious solution to all this? At some point Lewis surely must’ve contemplated the need for yet another ‘accident’, right?”

  Rashidi’s response was immediate. “If he did, then thoughts along this line were never shared with me. You may doubt my words, but it’s the truth. In all frankness, I don’t know what final solution he might’ve settled upon; but I do know all the many plans we discussed in those first days, not one ever entailed anything injurious to either you or Elizabeth. On this I swear.”

  Surprising to himself, David believed him.

  But only as far as those first few days were concerned. After that, he knew, events and priorities must’ve altered dramatically, taking several unpleasant turns for Gobeir. Nor was it difficult to pinpoint exactly when and where it began. “Then everything changed, didn’t it? And with good reason. First was the murder of the eavesdropper, Hassan; then that chase from the monastery only two days later. Suddenly you found yourselves in a whole new game, one with more players than you and Lewis suspected.”

  “An accurate analogy, yes. Despite what Haleem and Khafaghi chose to believe, we couldn’t discard the possibility others knew of the gold disk. Now we had to allow your investigation to evolve much further than we ever intended.”

  “In other words, we were being used as bait.”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Rashidi admitted. “Naturally, it was our fervent hope we were completely wrong, but this seemed the only logical course.”

  “Just out of curiosity, Ahmed, where exactly was your final cut-off point? I mean, there must’ve been a holding line somewhere in all this. How far were you really prepared to go before finally blocking any more information on Lionel?”

  “That was established right at the beginning,” replied Rashidi. “You see, we always recognized the possibility—if not the actual likelihood—you might eventually make some sort of rough connection between Lionel and Burkhart’s lead man, Nawal Mehra. We never assumed it inevitable, but nor did we underestimate your cleverness and tenacity. Because of this, Gobeir decided early on that should you ever make such a linkage, no follow-up information about the man would ever reach you. And this I believe we could’ve accomplished, for I spent considerable time researching the subject. We wer
e satisfied the only written information in existence on him was that single card in the archives.”

  “So what stopped you from withholding it?”

  Rashidi’s answer was blunt.

  “It was the death of your great-aunt, Edith Whiteley. Being of a more suspicious mind than you, we started fearing the worse. Perhaps it was merely coincidental, but it was disturbing enough for us to rethink where to draw the line on Nawal. In order to be absolutely sure, we gambled on advancing your investigation yet one more step. Thus we faked the telephone call from my room in Alexandria as a means of providing you with Nawal’s former address in Matruh. The call never took place. I’d already pulled and destroyed that card two days before we left Cairo.” He paused; then added, “Needless to say, this last gamble proved disastrous for everyone concerned.”

  “Because of Yousef’s little bombshell, right? The old man knew a hell of a lot more than Lewis ever dreamed he did.”

  “Indeed. For us, everything hung on what we always assumed was an absolute truth: no matter what, the trail of the gold disk couldn’t possibly extend beyond Matruh. Even if you found Yousef still alive—something we ourselves weren’t sure of—our ultimate safety net, so to speak, was Gobeir’s conviction Yousef had no knowledge of where his brother and Lionel went on that fateful summer. Thus you can appreciate his horror when he heard the old man’s story unfold. And when it seemed things couldn’t possibly get worse, it did just that! Yousef’s murder only hours later effectively destroyed our last chance of containment. The manner of his death—linked as it so obviously was to the death of the nun in Matariyah—said others now knew the location of this valley.”

  Having made almost a full circuit of the cone, David saw the curious seam in the cavern wall was beginning to angle downward. Still tracking it, he picked up the threads of what Ahmed was telling him. “So I take it that’s when Lewis figured he’d no option but to call in the reserves. He put this Ibrahim and the others in a position to nail whoever tried to follow us.”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “So the overall arrangements were put in whose care? No, wait. Let me guess. Was it the obsequious Mr. Wassef?”

  “Very good, Professor. I see you’ve figured him out. Yes, he’s one of us. A good man, though I feared his deferential manner to Gobeir was perhaps a bit over—”

  “Hold it, Ahmed!”

  “What is it?”

  David didn’t respond, his attention now wholly on the wall just ahead of him. The promising seam had suddenly grown much wider. He scrambled forward, seeing in the flashlight’s beam that it had become a true fracture, one stabbing straight down beneath the outermost perimeter of rubble. Even more encouraging was a pathetic figure lying face down in the shallow depression where the two surfaces came together.

  “Professor, is there something over there I—”

  “Damn right there is! It just might be our way out.”

  Rashidi was incredulous. “No, that’s simply not possible. Our records of this place are most concise. The written description says there’s but one exit—and that’s up above.”

  “Well, I’ve got someone in front of me who says different.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Once he assisted Rashidi across the cavern floor, David had him sit and hold the flashlight in his good hand as he then carefully examined the single figure lying at the bottom of the shallow pit. The skeletal remains were clearly different in a few aspects, not the least being the apparent age at time death. Unlike the others, this man was definitely older, his teeth worn, yet lacking any noticeable evidence of malnutrition. Too, he’d been far better clothed, for the tattered remnants of a leather belt and full tunic were still visible around the ancient bones. He’d obviously survived his initial entombment for several days, time he used to begin digging frantically into the mass of rubble before finally expiring.

  David removed the skeleton, placing it up and out of his way.

  Rashidi shook his head in bewilderment, looking mystified as to why any of this should be cause for excitement. “Professor, I really don’t see where there’s anything here to get—”

  “Look at the man’s leg,” David said, beginning the process of tossing more stone chunks from the bottom of the small pit. “What does it tell you?”

  Rashidi did so, now finding the tibia of the left leg was completely severed just below the knee. “Well, I can see where moving as much stone as he did must’ve put him in excruciating pain,” he said, “but this hardly proves he knew something we don’t. People are capable of desperate and irrational things when faced with imminent death. The man was probably panic-stricken, half out of his mind.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” David snatched the flashlight from Rashidi’s hand, casting the beam across the field of settled stone. “Over there is where I landed. Now lower still, following the same path down, is where you and most of the other bodies ended up. That’s the natural fall line. Therefore, the assumption is this fellow came down in the same area, right? Look around. There are very few exceptions. I’m guessing all of them were probably stabbed or bludgeoned prior to being dumped in here. Yet this man—either by chance or design—somehow managed to avoid the quick death. He was badly hurt, but very much alive when the top was originally sealed off.”

  “Only to go crazy, I fear. I’m sorry, but I still don’t see—”

  “Crazy, my ass! He knew exactly what he was doing! Look at the height difference between here and where he came down. Not only is this section higher, but the debris is heavier, a lot more difficult to move. Despite his shattered leg, he crawled up and over to the only place where he knew escape was still possible—and that’s directly beneath this fracture line.”

  Rashidi looked at the vertical indentation in the otherwise solid wall of stone, noting how it seemed to deepen as it descended. He didn’t appear totally convinced, but at least willing to be hopeful. “The rationale makes sense,” he said, his voice now cautiously optimistic. “If there truly is an opening down there, he may have spotted it long before this chamber was back-filled with excavation rubble.” He paused. “Professor, do you really think we have a chance?”

  “I’ve got to believe it’s here. This poor devil’s misfortune was he just didn’t live long enough to reach it.” He returned the light to Rashidi, again picking out chunks of rubble. “Whatever the hell he saw, let’s hope it’s not twenty feet further down.”

  David continued to throw out busted hunks of stone, deepening the pit layer by layer. There was little point in pacing himself. Even if Rashidi was capable of assisting—which he wasn’t—the limited size of the pit only allowed room for one to effectively dig. As cool as the cavern was, sweat soon ran from his hair, seeping into his eyes. The steady perspiration loss would only acceleration his dehydration, he knew, but such considerations were now meaningless. Better to die fighting, he reasoned, than to succumb later without a struggle.

  By his estimation, a half hour slipped by, his arms and cut hands craving a few moments of rest. He’d excavated roughly two feet down into the packed debris when he felt what could only be described as a light movement across his fingers. It happened just as he pried loose a particularly large section of stone. God, he thought, don’t let this be my imagination! Dropping to his knees, he caught a distinct whiff of something unpleasant.

  He extracted his cigarette lighter, saying, “Kill the light for a second.”

  “Why? What’ve you—?”

  “Just do it!”

  His sore fingers trembling, David sparked the lighter. It caught immediately; then promptly flickered out. He lit it again, this time cupping the tiny flame with his other hand. Now it held—but just barely. “There’s an air current here. And it’s very warm!”

  Rashidi understood the significance. Air simply moving from one sealed chamber to another would be equally cool. “Do you think it’s coming from somewhere being heated by the sun?”

  “It has to be!”
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  David attacked the remaining rubble with renewed vigor, eventually expanding the opening to a size he could squeeze into. Taking the flashlight, he then maneuvered his upper body through the breach, probing ahead with the beam. The small slot ahead of him looked more the configuration of an oval crevice than a navigable tunnel, only marginally wider than the opening, it angled upward and to the right. How far it went, or to where, was impossible to tell. Now the foul, musty odor was considerably stronger, not unlike a nauseous gas.

  “What do you see?”

  “Damn little. But wherever it goes has to be better than here.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to go it alone. My arm and shoulder being what it is, I don’t think I can squirm through so narrow an—”

  “You can make it,” said David. He drew his legs through, finding enough room to turn and face the breach. “First pass me the coil of rope, then lay down on your back where I can reach under your good arm.”

  Rashidi did as instructed.

  “Like this?”

  “That’ll do. Just ease over a little on your side so I can grab—there, that’s good. Now it’s going to be tight and probably hurt like a bastard, but I can drag you through if you push some with your legs, okay? We’ll take it in stages.”

  The maneuver worked, Rashidi containing his obvious pain through clenched teeth as he was finally drawn inside. Taking a few seconds to recuperate, he breathed deep of the warmer air as David turned back around and looped the coiled rope over his shoulder.

  “What’s that ungodly stink, Professor?”

  “Beats me. I was hoping maybe you knew.”

  Flashlight in hand, he led the way on his hands and knees, conscious not to get too far ahead of the struggling Rashidi. They crawled in this manner for an immeasurable period of time, the actual distance covered impossible to estimate. Nor did David have an overall sense of direction, for the natural passageway meandered like a snake, shifting first one way, then another, with no apparent end in sight. The temperature continued to climb, the air almost stifling. Sweat again stung his eyes. Too, his bruised knees and palms ached from the unyielding stone. The discomfort for Rashidi had to be even greater, for the younger man’s breathing was beginning to sound labored.