by K. M. Ashman
‘I think so. As soon as your father and I were off the scene, they came back and carried on where we left off.’
‘Where is the entrance?’ asked Becky.
‘It’s in the side of a banking, hidden behind the reed beds of the river, not far from here,’ said John, ‘Most of the year it’s under water, but the shaft leads upward above the water line then drops sharply into the catacombs.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Becky, ‘something doesn’t add up here. You said you found the tomb in Itjawi, not Faiyum.’
‘We did,’ said John, ‘for years everyone has been scrambling around in the deserts around Faiyum when all the time it was right here.’
‘Faiyum is Itjawi?’ asked Becky.
‘Not exactly,’ said John. ‘If your father was correct, Faiyum is built on top of Itjawi.’
‘No, that can’t be right,’ said Becky. ‘The authorities discarded that theory years ago. All the excavations uncovered throughout the city have turned out to be from Crocodilopolis, which came far later than Itjawi. Beneath those are metres of virgin ground.’
‘So we have been led to believe,’ said John, ‘but those catacombs are far lower than the ruins of Crocodilopolis.’
‘They may just be dug into the bedrock,’ said Becky.
‘I don’t think so,’ said John. ‘The walls of the catacombs have been built with granite blocks similar to the pyramids. They were placed one on top of the other and are capped with stone slabs for a roof. If they were just dug into the substrata, there would be no need for walls or roofs, the natural rock would furnish both.’
‘If that’s the case,’ said Becky, ‘how are they so deep beneath Crocodilopolis. Surely the covering soils couldn’t be just the residue over the years, we are talking almost twenty metres of overfill.’
‘Who knows?’ said John. ‘Perhaps there was a prolonged period of sandstorms that covered the city completely. The thing is, we believed that Itjawi lies beneath our feet and quite apart from what lies behind that door, just confirmation of that fact will be ground breaking in itself.’
‘No wonder it had remained hidden for so long,’ said Becky. ‘I suppose there is no chance of using the same entrance that you and dad found?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said John. ‘A couple of nights ago, I went up to the entrance to see if it was still accessible, well, as close as I was able anyway. They have put a great big steel door over the shaft and two armed soldiers now guard it. Whatever it is down there, it is pretty damned important.’
‘I’m still gutted that the message he sent me didn’t turn up,’ said Becky. ‘Perhaps if we had that, then at least we would know what’s down there. Do you think they found out about the letter and intercepted it?’
‘Possibly,’ said John, ‘but we’ll never know. The thing is, I am very close to finding out anyway.’
‘John, I don’t think it’s worth it,’ said Becky. ‘If they’ve gone to all this trouble to hide it from the world, then they’ll probably not think twice about making you or me disappear. Don’t forget that officially you are not even in the country?’
‘I know, but what worries me is that your name is obviously the same as your father. All it would take is one overzealous official to make the link and they could have someone watching you within hours.’
‘Then surely that is all the more reason to leave?’
‘I can’t, Becky, I am so close. After everything we have been through, I’m not going to turn away now.’
‘And how do you intend to find out anything?’ asked Becky. ‘If there are already people down there, how will you get past them?’
‘I have watched them from the outside,’ said John, ‘every night they lock the steel door and go back to their hotels. If I can break through the last few feet of the tomb robber’s tunnel just after they leave, I will have almost eight hours before they come back. That should be plenty of time.’
Becky looked at him for a long time, thoughts racing around her head.
‘When are you going to do it?’ she asked.
‘Tonight,’ said John. ‘If I wait too long, word is going to get out and they’ll discover the tunnel.’
‘Okay,’ said Becky, ‘you go downstairs and wait for me there, I’ll get changed and meet you in ten minutes.’
‘What are you on about?’ asked John.
‘You don’t think I’m going to stay here, while you go down there on your own, do you?’ asked Becky.
‘Yes, actually, I do,’ said John,
‘Well think again,’ said Becky. ‘You said yourself that there may be another labyrinth behind that door. If there is, there is no way you will search even part of it in eight hours. If I am with you, we cut the time in half.’
‘But Becky…’ started John.
‘But nothing,’ said Becky. ‘Don’t forget, my father died because of this and I intend to find out once and for all what it was that cost him his life.’
John sighed in resignation.
‘You do know we will probably be caught,’ said John, ‘and if we are, there is no way we will be supported by the British embassy.’
‘Then we had better not get caught,’ said Becky. ‘Come on, we are wasting time, I’ll get changed, you call us a taxi.’
----
Two hours later, they were walking down a dark alleyway, heading for the outskirts of the town. John had insisted on being dropped off more than half a mile away to leave no trace at all of the location of the second tunnel. Finally, he knocked on a door of the second house in a row of four, and with a quick look around to make sure they weren’t being followed, entered the house containing the tunnel entrance.
A young boy carrying a lamp showed them down to the cellar and John passed him a twenty-dollar note for his services. As soon as he had received the money, the boy put down the lamp and ran back up the stairs.
‘Right,’ said John, putting down the bag he was carrying, ‘we won’t be disturbed until dawn, so we had better get on with it.’ He pulled two large torches from the bag, handing one over to Becky along with two spare batteries and a bottle of water.
‘We could be down there for some time,’ he explained.
She put the batteries and water in the small rucksack brought along especially for the job before shining her torch around the cellar.
‘Well, where is it?’
‘Behind here,’ said John, and pulled a dirty tapestry to one side, revealing a jagged hole at the base of the wall.
‘After you,’ she said and watched nervously as John crawled, headfirst into the hole. She followed close behind and found the passage sloping steeply downward. Within five minutes, they came to a halt.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Becky.
‘This is it,’ said John. ‘We are at the end of the tunnel. The catacombs are just the other side of this mound of rubble.’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ asked Becky. ‘Start digging.’
For the next fifteen minutes, John lay on his stomach, prying rocks from the compacted pile to his front. Slowly, he passed them back and Becky pushed them to the sides of the tunnel wherever there was room. Finally, Becky heard a crash and she knew he had broken through.
‘Got it,’ said John, ‘come on, we’re in.’
Becky crawled through the dust to the end of the tunnel and out into the catacombs. Both torch beams swept around the room like world war two searchlights, and both of them fell silent with awe at the vibrant colours bouncing back at them. Covering every available flat surface were richly decorated scenes of life in the city, from thousands of years earlier. Scenes of hunting, eating and god worship were contrasted by depictions of executions, wars and burial rituals. Becky was awestruck and stood staring at the fabulous pictures that had probably never seen the light of day.
‘This is amazing,’ she said quietly.
‘Come on,’ said John, ‘this is just a side chamber. The room we want is along here.’
Becky followed beh
ind, her eyes hardly able to take in all the fabulous artistry as she went. Within minutes, they entered the main chamber and Becky stepped forward to stand alongside John. Her eyes focussed on the wall at the end of John’s torch beam, or rather, the open doorway in the solid wall.
‘Is that it?’ she whispered.
‘It is,’ said John, ‘though last time I was down here, that doorway was blocked and sealed.’
‘Well, pointless standing around here,’ said Becky, ‘what are we waiting for?’
John reached into his pocket to reveal two pieces of chalk, one blue, one white.
‘Let’s stick together for the first hour or so until we know how big this place is,’ said John. ‘If it is as big as the one at Hawara was supposed to have been, then we could be down here for days.’
‘Why the different coloured chalks?’ asked Becky.
‘Blue to mark the confirmed route back,’ said John, ‘and white to mark side passages as we check them. We’ll start with one turn only off the main corridor, that way we won’t get lost. Once we have checked that out, we can come back here and start exploring the side corridors in detail. Here, I have some for you as well.’
Becky took the chalk and after taking a deep breath of the warm and musty air, ducked down to follow John into the labyrinth.
----
Across the country, in an office of the Cairo museum, two men sat opposite each other across a table. One man fidgeted nervously, obviously uncomfortable in the other’s presence, while the second oozed confidence as he retrieved a cigarette from an ornate silver case. The smoker struck a match and inhaled deeply to ignite the cigarette before speaking again.
‘Dr Samari,’ said the gaunt faced man, squinting his eyes because of the smoke, ‘I don’t think you quite understand your position here. I don’t care what superstitious claptrap your diggers are telling you, this is potentially the greatest find in the history of mankind. If the initial findings from the lab are correct, then no force on this planet will stop my sponsors from obtaining this information.’
‘Mr Leatherman,’ said the nervous Egyptologist, ‘please, you have to understand. This is far bigger than you or I, ever imagined. If this is not handled very, very carefully, then it could be disastrous. Heaven knows what contamination lies in that tomb. We have been in there only a few weeks and already have enough information to rip up almost every book from the Bible, to Darwin’s theory of evolution. I need more resources before I dare move anything and it has to be done properly. If you would just allow me to declare our find, even within the confines of our own circles, or at least to the museum sponsors, then I could move everything here and we could continue our studies in a scientific environment.’
‘No,’ snapped Leatherman, ‘don’t forget where your first loyalties lie, Samari. When you first approached me for funding on that other little unauthorised project of yours, we made a deal.’
‘And you were repaid handsomely for that investment,’ said Samari. ‘That death mask was worth millions and it rivals the mask of Tutankhamen himself. If the museum was to find out that one of the most important artefacts ever found hangs on the wall of a private collector, I would spend the rest of my life in jail.’
‘You would,’ said Leatherman, ‘and don’t you forget it. But with regards to this situation, you obviously thought there was another little get-rich quick project for you to get your grubby little fingers on, but when it went belly up, and you found what you did, who did you come running to?’
‘I know,’ said Samari, ‘but this is different. This is bigger than all of us, and deserves the resources of science to find out the meaning. Please, Mr Leatherman, You have to see sense here. Let me get the experts involved and we can move forward together. I will even make sure you get a share of the recognition, whatever you want, but we can’t do this by ourselves.’
‘No,’ snapped Leatherman, ‘it is not negotiable, and this is what is going to happen. First, you are going to ring your people in Faiyum and tell them to get the artefact ready for removal. As we speak, there is a convoy of vehicles on the way there, and when it arrives, we will remove it to a safe place.’
‘Where?’
‘You don’t need to know. Just make sure that it is ready. Secondly, you will pay your labourers to destroy the tomb completely and collapse the entrance.’
‘But why? The site alone contains history unlike anything we have ever found. Surely there is no need to destroy it completely?’
‘Dr Samari,’ said Leatherman, ‘if what you have found turns out to be what we think it is; we want exclusivity. What we don’t want is someone checking out that tomb after us and drawing conclusions that may affect our work.’
‘But what about the workers?’ asked Samari. ‘People talk. I can’t guarantee they will remain silent.’
‘How much are you paying them?’ asked Leatherman.
‘The equivalent of a thousand dollars,’ said Samari.
‘Then pay them five thousand to keep silent,’ said Leatherman, ‘and tell them there is another five thousand in two years’ time, as long as the whereabouts of the tomb remains unknown. By then, we will have our own arrangements in place and anyone blabbing will be thought mad. Nobody in their right mind will believe them.’
‘And what about me?’ asked Samari, ‘Where do I feature in all this?’
‘Oh, that is simple,’ said Leatherman, ‘we are not unreasonable men, Samari, so I offer you a deal I think you will find irresistible. In my pocket, I have two items. You can choose either, but in return, you will remain silent.’
‘This,’ continued Leatherman, unwrapping a folded piece of paper, ‘is a cheque for two hundred thousand dollars. It can be in any bank you specify within two hours. There are also another four checks like this with your name on them, and each will be deposited on the first day of January for the next four years. If you accept them, you will be rich beyond your wildest dreams and will never hear from us again.’
‘And the second item?’ asked Samari.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Leatherman and placed a small metallic object next to the cheque. ‘I am sure you can guess what this is, but just to make it clear, I will spell it out. This is a 9mm bullet from a semi-automatic pistol. If you decide to refuse my sponsor’s generous offer, or run to the authorities, this too can be in its destination within two hours.’
‘And where is that?’ gulped Samari.
‘Your brain,’ said Leatherman. ‘The choice is yours, Dr Samari, take your pick.’
Sweat ran down Samari’s astonished face as the implications sunk in.
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ he said.
‘Wouldn’t we?’ asked Leatherman. ‘One way or the other you will know in two hours. Now, are you going to make that telephone call or not?’
After a few moments’ pause, Samari reached out and picked up the phone.
‘Right decision,’ said Leatherman and returned the bullet to his pocket. ‘Now, where can a man get a whiskey around here?’
----
Back in the labyrinth, Becky and John had spent several hours searching blind tunnels and side rooms, but despite the richness of the artefacts they contained, remained focussed on finding whatever Becky’s father had found.
‘This place is amazing,’ said Becky, when they stopped for a drink. ‘There’s more down here than in the entire vaults of the British Antiquities museum.’
‘I know,’ said John. ‘There’s a lifetime’s study in the hieroglyphs alone, and I’ve lost count of the unopened sarcophagi we’ve seen so far.’
‘Perhaps that was what my father was referring to,’ said Becky, ‘just the wealth of riches throughout these tunnels.’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ said John. ‘He was convinced that Amenemhat is buried down here somewhere and he wanted the grand prize
‘You’re right,’ said Becky, ‘come on, let’s keep going.’ A few minutes later, Becky grabbed John’s arm and pulled him to a stop.
‘W
hat’s the matter?’ asked Jon.
‘Shhh,’ said Becky, ‘listen, I can hear something.’
John screwed up his face and listened intently.
‘I hear it too,’ he said. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Becky. ‘A sort of humming.’
‘Come on,’ said John, ‘we’ll carry on, but keep quiet.’ They crept forward until once again they stopped.
‘Look,’ he said and pointed his torch beam to something hanging from the ceiling.
‘What is it?’ asked Becky.
‘It looks like armoured cable,’ said John, reaching out to touch it, ‘and it’s vibrating.’ He pointed his torch upward again, illuminating where the cable disappeared through a jagged hole in the stone slab. ‘This is the source of the noise,’ he said, ‘I think somewhere up on the surface there must be a generator and they have drilled down through the ground to provide an electrical supply.’
‘Wow, that’s some serious commitment,’ said Becky.
‘It also makes our job much easier,’ said John.
‘How?’
‘All we have to do is follow the cable,’ said John. ‘Come on, I think we are getting close.
A few minutes later, they came to a modern door that had obviously been installed in the last few weeks.
‘Why on earth would they put a door in here?’ asked Becky in astonishment.
‘I have no idea,’ said John, ‘but I aim to find out.’ He gently tried the door handle and pushed forward. ‘It’s locked,’ he said.
Becky knelt down and peered through the keyhole.
‘Wow,’ she said, ‘it’s lit up like Blackpool tower in there. There are lights everywhere.’
‘What else can you see?’ whispered John.
‘Nothing really, it seems the floor has been swept and there is something hanging from the ceiling in the centre. It looks like…polythene.’
John was about to ask if he could take a look, when suddenly Becky jumped back from the door.
‘Shit,’ she whispered, ‘there’s someone in there.’
‘What do you mean someone in there?’ asked John.
‘Exactly what I said,’ said Becky, ‘someone just walked past the door.’
