Hunt Through Napoleon's Web

Chapter 12

He was led downstairs to the ground floor, through the living room, and into a corridor he hadn’t seen before. Gabriel was struck by the sudden change of decoration in the hallway. The walls here were the color of stone and uneven, and had been painted with fairly good hand-drawn reproductions of Egyptian hieroglyphics. It was as if the Alliance wanted to give the impression of walking into a pyramid or an ancient temple. They’d even mounted torches along the way in metal holders. As the modern living room receded behind them, it felt a bit like walking back through time.

Gabriel reached out and touched one wall. It wasn’t genuine stone—it felt like cast resin, painted over to look like stone.

“Do not touch,” Kemnebi snapped.

“Disney’s got nothing on you guys,” Gabriel murmured.

They reached the end of the corridor, where the wall was painted to look like a large sandstone block. Kemnebi grabbed a concealed handhold and pulled it open. The wall swiveled toward them, revealing a chapel-sized space lit by torches. Gabriel stepped through. He suspected they were in the adjacent building now. He turned to ask—but Kemnebi pushed the section of the wall closed behind him.

Gabriel was alone.

The interior was designed to resemble the King’s Chamber from an Egyptian pyramid. Gabriel had seen the real thing several times and this was not a bad facsimile. The pyramids had been built as elaborate tombs for the pharaohs, intended to provide them with a comfortable home in the afterlife, though ancient notions of comfort had never struck him as all that comfortable. You’d generally have a large throne made of a single piece of carved stone; the one here was set upon a pedestal with six steps leading up to it from the floor. You’d have your statues of Egyptian gods—here, several man-sized ones stood flanking either side of the throne and much larger ones in each corner of the room were posed as if holding up the ceiling. Smaller statuettes were scattered around, alongside pedestals bearing basins filled with water. A sarcophagus stood on the right side of the chamber, its stone cover intricately decorated with jewels and gold inlay.

“Bow, American. Bow before your pharaoh.”

The voice echoed through the room. It was crisp and commanding, with a hint of a Middle Eastern accent, but only a hint.

Gabriel moved toward the throne. He was off to one side and could see that it was still empty—and there was no one behind it, either. But as he watched, a man suddenly appeared, stepping out from a patch of shadow.

Khufu was as Lucy had described him, dressed in the vestments of an Egyptian pharaoh, from the wood-soled sandals up to the ornate nemes, the striped royal headdress. The nemes had fine accordion pleating on lappets, folds that were held to the forehead with a metal band. And below that band, covering his face, the man wore a carved mask of a falcon. Gabriel recognized it as the face of Horus, the god of pharaohs. The man also wore an ankle-length transparent robe—transparency once signified an Egyptian’s wealth and importance—and beneath the robe he wore a loincloth. Aside from several gold bracelets on his arms, the rest of his sinewy body was bare. He held a golden scepter in his right hand, its head curved like a cobra about to strike.

“You shall bow to me, American,” Khufu said. “Willingly or no.”

Gabriel didn’t move. “This is quite a display,” he said, “but that’s all it is. A display. Any man could build it, if he was rich enough and had a thing for King Tut. I’m not impressed.”

“You are insolent,” the masked man said, advancing toward him. “Amun told me it was so.”

“Good,” Gabriel said. “That’ll save us some time.”

The man leveled the end of his scepter in Gabriel’s direction. “We agree: there is no point in wasting time.” He gestured with the scepter—and suddenly Gabriel found himself blinded with an agonizing wave of pain.

It was as if he’d licked a finger and stuck it in an outlet. A jolt of high-voltage electricity shot through his body, making every hair stand on end and every nerve ending burn. He felt himself flung to the floor with tremendous force. He slid backward a few feet, stunned by the charge.

Khufu stood motionless, still pointing the scepter.

What the hell was that thing?

He tried to stand but Khufu aimed the scepter at him again. Gabriel put his hands up before him. “Okay, okay, I get—”

Another jolt of electricity shot through him, causing every muscle in his body to clench tight as a fist. He felt it in his eyelids and the soles of his feet. He could smell his hair singe.

“Those who cultivate the seeds of disobedience,” Khufu said, “reap only pain.” He lowered the scepter. “Now, rise. If you can.”

Gabriel slowly rolled over, groaned involuntarily, got to his hands and knees. He finally managed to stand. His entire body ached and his knees trembled.

“You are strong,” Khufu said. “But no man is strong enough to withstand the fury of the gods. If I smite you once more, your innards will cook inside you, your bowels turn to water; once more again and your heart will burst. There are few worse deaths.”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

“I have done this to you for a reason,” Khufu said. “I wish to demonstrate that you are at my mercy. You live or die by my grace.”

“Consider the point made,” Gabriel said.

“Good. Now, Amun tells me you have agreed to help us find the Second Stone.”

“I did agree,” Gabriel said. “I’m having second thoughts now.”

“Don’t. You should be honored to be chosen. It will be an event celebrated throughout the course of history. Your name will be forever linked to its discovery. When the new world is born out of the ashes of the old, you will have been a part of it. You should rejoice in your good fortune.”

“That’s all right. You can rejoice for both of us.”

“Oh, I will. The Second Stone will allow me to lead Egypt into a new reign of power. First, the Middle East. Israel will bow at our feet. Saudi Arabia will acknowledge the true masters of Africa. Then the Mediterranean will be ours again. We will take back Rome and Constantinople. And finally your own distant borders will fall. Egypt will be the leader of the world once again.”

“Well, no one can accuse you of thinking small,” Gabriel said.

“The most satisfying conquest, of course, will be France. To exact revenge on the country that raped Egypt during Napoleon’s reign will be the sweetest victory. Napoleon was a monster and a thief. He and his brother Louis will be visited by Anubis in the afterlife and be subjected to excruciating torment. They already reside in hell, but their existence there will be made worse still, for they will see their people kneel to us. And after the destruction of France, Britain shall fall. We will take back what they hold in their so-called museums and then crush their country. Two new pyramids will rise, one in Paris and one in London, to mark their subjugation.”

Khufu pointed the staff at him again, and Gabriel flinched slightly. “You will cooperate. You will do as Amun says, or you will suffer pain you cannot imagine—and your sister as well. You will find the Second Stone or you will both beg for death’s release.”

Gabriel said nothing.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

The two men faced each other for a moment. “I believe you do,” Khufu said. “Go, then. Get the rest you require. You have much work to do beginning in the morning.”

Gabriel heard the wall pivot open behind him. He had been dismissed. On unsteady legs, he walked out of the chamber. Kemnebi stood waiting—and caught him when Gabriel’s legs gave out.