The Pharaoh Key

34

THEY RETURNED IN the dark, Gideon carrying the kid on an improvised pole he had slung over one shoulder. As they entered the broad valley, the evening’s cooking fires were lit and the fragrance of wood smoke mingled with roasting meat. Small boys were driving flocks of goats into their pens, bells tinkling, and the tents were lit from the inside with oil lamps. The numerous camels were all bedded down for the night in a kind of natural corral made from a break in the valley wall, as usual neither tethered nor shut in—clearly, the communal tribe did not steal from each other, and anyway the camels were distinctive enough that everybody knew which ones belonged to whom.

“Looks almost idyllic,” said Imogen, pausing to survey the scene.

“You know, despite all our troubles and misunderstandings, these are good people. They’re just trying to protect their way of life.”

“How quickly you forget they almost killed us—twice.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Gideon shifted the kid from one shoulder to the other. “Feel like barbecued kid tonight?”

“With a spicy rub? I’m famished.”

They proceeded through the settlement to their new tent, which stood on a small rise, with other larger tents and greater distances between them. As they passed through, their kid aroused interest, and they received smiles and gestures of congratulations. A baby goat was considered a true delicacy.

Arriving at their tent, Gideon hung the kid on a tripod fashioned out of branches, skinned it with his stone dagger, and cut off the head and feet. As he worked, Imogen built a fire from a pile of desert hardwood that was stacked beside their tent. Their new quarters had, it seemed, been provided with all the necessities: in addition to wood for fuel, there were a variety of crude implements and utensils, a water barrel, cooking spices, a greenwood roasting pole with forked supports, extra skins for blankets, and their own camel saddles.

When the carcass was dressed and seasoned from the bags of spices, Gideon affixed it to the roasting pole and set it above the bed of coals. He turned the kid from time to time, the meat sizzling and giving off a heavenly aroma.

“I can’t wait to get inside that tomb,” said Imogen as she came up, her eyes shining.

“I was thinking the same thing. I was also thinking about the old crone’s warning.”

“You mean, about the forbidden path and the demon leopards?”

“Yup. Do you suppose that’s just a story to keep curious tribesmen away?”

“It’s possible. In fact, it’s probable. Somebody has to know about it. It may well be a secret, known only to the priests and the chief. Or maybe just Lillaya. I mean, look at her critical role in the tribe—higher even than the priests. She might be the living repository of their cultural history, their sacred knowledge.”

Gideon gave the kid another turn. “Sounds like an old H. Rider Haggard novel. You know, with that crone descended from a long line of priestesses, all sworn to guard and protect the sacred tomb.”

“It’s not as unlikely as you might think.” Imogen stared into the fire. “How else can you explain its still being intact? Did you know that only one pharaoh’s tomb has ever been found unlooted—and that just happened to belong to someone named Tutankhamen?” She let out a sigh. “He was just a second-tier teenage king. Imagine what this might contain.”

Gideon basted the kid with drippings. “Any idea which pharaoh?”

“It’s strange that an important tomb would be so far removed from the Valley of the Kings or the other ancient tomb fields. If I had to guess, I’d say it might be connected to the heretic Pharaoh Akhenaten.”

“Heretic?”

“Yes.” She squatted beside him. “Akhenaten, as I explained, tried to impose monotheism on Egypt. But after he died, the people revolted and restored the many ancient gods. They smashed his monuments and statues and chiseled his name from inscriptions. Forever after they referred to him not by name, but as ‘that criminal.’ Scholars have never identified his tomb for certain.”

“So it’s possible Akhenaten’s followers hid his tomb way out here to protect it.”

“It’s certainly a possibility. Remember, during his life Ahkenaten was incredibly powerful. His queen was Nefertiti, and he was probably King Tut’s father. If this really is his undisturbed tomb, it would be the biggest discovery in Egypt since the Rosetta Stone.”

“So why record its location on the Phaistos Disk and send it to Crete?”

She shook her head. “Hard to know. Maybe his followers created a bunch of those disks and secretly distributed them to like-minded followers around the ancient world, so the location would never be forgotten.”

Gideon turned the goat again and used his dagger to cut into it. A dribble of clear juices fell sizzling into the fire. “Looks done.”

“Perfect timing!” Garza’s voice came from the darkness as he stepped into the firelight. He rubbed his hands together. “Damn, I’m hungry.”

“Sure you’ve got enough energy left to eat?” Gideon asked.

“Where’s Jelena?” Imogen asked.

Garza flushed. Then he grinned. “Sleeping.” He glanced at the fire, clearly eager to change the subject. “So where’d you get the goat?”

“I shot it,” said Gideon, with no little pride. “The chief gave each of us a crossbow as a gift. Knockoffs of your, ah, present to him.”

“I saw the one outside my tent. Well done.”

Imogen passed around clay plates while Gideon hacked off cuts of meat and served them. He caught Imogen’s eye. It has to be said, he realized; there’s no point hemming and hawing.

He looked over. “Manuel?”

“Mmm?” Garza responded, biting into a haunch.

“We went to the Phaistos location today.”

Garza paused, then put down the cut, looking from Gideon to Imogen and back. “You…told her?”

“Yes. I felt it was about time.”

Garza flushed again, this time from anger rather than embarrassment. “We had an agreement!” he said loudly, then—looking around the encampment—lowered his voice. “All we’ve been through, and you didn’t even have the decency to ask me first?”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t come out of your tent this morning—remember?”

“That’s got nothing to do with it! Whatever’s there is ours. We risked our lives for it several times over: remember that?”

“Of course. And who saved us, most of those times?”

Abruptly, Imogen cut in. “Don’t throw a wobbly,” she told Garza. “I’m not interested in whatever’s inside that tomb. Not in any treasure you’d understand, at least.” She paused. “I’d have thought by now you’d come to trust me.”

There was a long silence. And then, to Gideon’s surprise, the expression on Garza’s face softened. “Fair enough,” he said. “But I hope you don’t blame me for being suspicious.” He held out his hand. “Friends?”

“Friends,” she said, taking it.

There was a brief, slightly awkward silence while the three ate their dinner.

Glancing furtively over his shoulder, Garza leaned in toward them. “For God’s sake,” he murmured, “what did you find?”

“Under the guise of a hunting trip, we headed west and found this spot where three canyons come together in a valley, surrounded by cliffs—just as we’d hoped. Set into the far cliff was a large stone door. It was set with lead seals—unbroken. Embossed in hieroglyphics.”

Even in the firelight, Garza’s face lit up with excitement. “And?”

“We just saw it at a distance. It was getting dark.”

“But it’s a tomb?”

“We think so,” Imogen said. “An important one.”

“A pharaoh?”

“Probably.”

“Christ. When do we go back?”

Gideon leaned forward, too. “It’s only five miles or so, but we have to be very careful: the path to the tomb is rough and, on top of that, forbidden. They say it’s because of the demons that live there, but I think that may be just to keep people away. We figure at least some of the tribe must know about the tomb. It’s likely they’ve been guarding it for centuries.”

“I’d guess about thirty-five centuries, give or take,” Imogen said.

“That’s a long time,” Gideon continued. “Stands to reason they’d take grave exception—so to speak—to our breaking in.”

“So what’s the plan?” Garza asked.

“All the hunting parties go out on the night of the full moon,” Gideon said. “Seems to be a tradition. That’s the night after next. We’ll simply form a band of our own—like we did today—and head in that direction. The moonlight will help us get there unobserved.”

Garza nodded. “Okay.”

“I have a question,” said Imogen. “Once we’re inside the tomb—what’s the goal? I mean, are you planning to document it?”

There was a silence. Then Gideon shook his head. “No, no. We’re going to rob it.”

Imogen stared at him. “You’re going to loot it?”

“Damn right,” said Garza. “Didn’t Gideon tell you that part? We’re here to make our fortunes. Are you really so naive? We’ve worked it out—how we’re going to smuggle it out of Egypt, get it into the States, everything.”

“I think that’s horrible. You’re nothing but thieves.”

“Exactly. We’re thieves, criminals—and proud of it. Listen: the company we used to work for was unique. We’ve toppled dictators, stolen nuclear reactors so they won’t get weaponized. We’ve spent our whole lives working for others. We saved the world. Now this is for us. Besides, what do you care? You just said you weren’t interested in any treasure for yourself.”

“I’m not—in gold and jewels, at least. But I’m a geoarchaeologist. Looting and desecrating a tomb goes against everything I believe in.”

Garza looked at Gideon with an expression that said: You got us into this. Now get us out.

“If you’re not interested in treasure,” Gideon asked Imogen quickly, “what exactly are you interested in?”

“History. Knowledge.”

“Such as?”

“There might—there probably are—documents inside. Papyri, stone tablets, scrolls. That’s the real treasure. Who knows what kind of light they might shed on ancient Egyptian history?”

“I don’t give a damn about old scraps of paper,” Garza said. “I want something I can convert into hard cash—quickly. While you document it, we plunder it. And then we ride hell-for-leather back out through the mist oasis.”

“And supposing you succeed. Just how are you planning to smuggle a tomb’s worth of loot out of Egypt? It’s not only unethical, it’s crazy. I won’t let you try.”

“Like I said, we’ve worked it out,” said Garza. “What are you going to do? Raise the alarm? Get us all killed?”

“Wait a moment,” Gideon said, interrupting the rising argument. “Imogen’s right—we don’t want to do anything that would wreck the historical record. But Manuel’s right, too. We’re the ones who made this discovery. We deserve to get something out of it.” He looked at Imogen. “Besides, if we don’t take at least a few pieces, who’s going to believe us? It’s not like we have any cameras.”

A brief silence settled over the three as the fire flickered and danced.

“What’s your proposal, then?” Imogen asked at last.

“We’ve got crossbows, waterskins, and food,” Gideon replied. “But most important, we’ve got freedom of movement. We steal a couple of camels, load them down with food and water, and take off. We enter the tomb, Manuel and I will take what we want, and you’ll have time to record the find, document everything you can. And here’s the best part: we don’t need to ride back through the camp and the mist oasis.”

Garza frowned. “But that’s the only way out.”

“So we were told. But, Imogen, do you remember that cut we saw in the far side of the demon canyon? It led westward, to the other side of the mountains and open desert. That’s our back door—and I’ll bet it’s kept secret even from most of the tribe. From there it’s less than a hundred miles to the Nile River. We could avoid running a murderous gauntlet through camp…and make the journey in four, five days.”

“You saw this back door yourself?” Garza asked.

“Hell, yes. And—”

“Hold on a minute, you lot,” Imogen interrupted. “In all this excitement, aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourselves?”

“What do you mean?” asked Garza.

“You’re planning to just waltz in, steal the treasure, and ride off, like Bob’s your uncle?”

Garza nodded. “That was the general idea, yes.”

“Well then, allow me to make a couple of observations. First, that door isn’t just going to open itself. Remember, it was made to resist penetration. You don’t know how long it will take to get inside—especially given the tools at hand.”

Gideon and Garza exchanged looks.

“Second, we have no idea what’s inside. You’re hoping for a tomb full of treasure. I’m hoping for a tomb full of unknown history. We could all be right—or wrong. Maybe there’s nothing in there. Maybe it’s full of statuary too heavy to lift. Until you know, how can you figure out the best method to cart it all away?”

There was a silence. Then Garza murmured, “Damn.”

“This is what we’ll do,” Gideon said abruptly. “We’ll go out on the full moon, as planned. But it will only be a recon expedition. We’ll break in, or at least try to, and ascertain what’s inside. That way, we’ll know what to plan for.”

“It might take more than one night to break in,” Imogen said.

“Fine,” Garza said. “Then we’ll go out ‘hunting’ two nights in a row. And we’ll plan the actual loot-’n’-leave for the next full moon.”

“The next full moon?” Gideon echoed. “That’s a month away.”

“Like Imogen said, there are unknown variables to consider here. We need to plan this carefully. If we find something unexpected, it might take us additional weeks to prepare, and…”

As he was speaking, Garza caught the expression on Gideon’s face. Recalling immediately that Gideon was on a clock—the ultimate clock—he added hastily, “On the other hand, delaying too long has its own set of unexpected variables. So let’s plan to leave a week after the initial recon. That gives us seven days to get inside, take an inventory, and figure out how best to effect our escape.”

Imogen considered for a moment. “Well, I still think you’re both rotten to loot the tomb.”

“But you’re going to live with it,” Garza said.

“What choice do I have? But assuming we find anything, you’ll take only small stuff—gold, jewelry, and the like. No unique works of art. And especially no written documents or historically important artifacts. Agreed?”

Gideon nodded. Then—after a hesitation—Garza did as well.