Counterpoint (22 page)

While Max was away, the others replaced
the lid to the coffin and sarcophagus to prevent deterioration of
the mummy.

In the shade of the Land Cruiser, Max
called Sam on the satellite phone and told him all they had seen.
“This is without doubt a unique historical monument, there is no
way you can build anywhere near here if the Egyptian authorities
find out about it. Rubin wants to strip the tomb and study
everything in secret. I don’t know how we can do that or even where
the stuff can be stored?”

Sam was quick to reply. “Work out the
type of vehicles you need to move it from there out into the
desert. In addition, how quick you can do it. I will sort out some
suitable storage and get back to you. No one must know about any of
this.”

“Just a thought, assuming we can get
away with this, there is no way Rubin, or anyone else for that
matter, can use the information from this tomb publicly, without
explaining where it all came from. Then where will we all be? The
Egyptians will not only cut off our hands, but feet, legs, arms and
nuts and then throw us in jail!” Cautioned Max.

“I hope you are not getting cold feet?”
Retorted Sam.

“I’m standing in hot sand at the
moment, so they are fine for now, thanks for asking!” Max closed
the call, a bit irked at Sam’s cavalier attitude.

Max went back to the others and
discussed what Sam said. Rubin thought one large refrigeration
truck would be enough to hold the contents and that he could make a
mosaic cast of the wall carvings after he had photographed
everything. Then fill in the tunnel for eternity. He needed the
other three to help him, and on Monday morning, work would start as
usual on the construction site, and no one would ever know.

“
The site security
patrol will be a problem, they are due to pass by here, at 5pm
today and again at 8am and 5pm Sunday, so we had better get
organised, immediately,” Peter warned.

Rubin confirmed he would photograph the
tomb and using Clingfilm as a release agent for the plaster, take
moulds of the carvings. With help, he could be finished by tomorrow
morning.

Peter would have to seal up the tunnel
entrance before the security patrol came by, while the other three
worked inside, and moved everything into the mouth of the
tunnel.

“Don’t drop dead or anything Peter, or
we will never get out and end up like Nahep,” cautioned Max.

Rubin commented, “If the truck could be
here Sunday night, everything could be loaded and away, before
early Monday morning.”

Peter suggested, “The only problem I
can see is noise from the vehicles, specially the excavator, and
lights. Sometimes there is a mist at night, and whilst we are
screened by the 15meter high walls of the excavation, stray light
might illuminate the mist above ground level.”

“I’ll think about that,” said Max,
“there will be fireworks if we get caught!”

“And perhaps a laser light display,”
added Carla grinning “problem solved already.”

“Well done Carla, good idea, I will get
Sam to organise that when I speak to him in a minute,” said
Max.

Max made out a detailed list of things
each member of the team had to do.

The key issues were food and water.

They would be working underground for a
long time, so fresh air had to be circulated, through the
chamber.

Sam had to get a suitable lorry to
them, and a place to store the artefacts. In addition, he had to
arrange some sort of sound and light distraction in the desert,
during Sunday night.

They needed lots of Clingfilm, at least
50 square meters and about ten bags of plaster. To mix the plaster
they would need over 100 litres of water. After much discussion,
the plaster idea was scrapped.

They needed cardboard as protective
packaging and several rolls of polyethylene waste bin liners to put
the jars in, in case of breakage and spillage. Heaven only knew
what diseases they might contain.

Max asked Peter if there were long
lengths of plastic drainpipe on the site. With their light weight
and push fit joints, they could easily form an air extraction
system. If he could also get hold of a length or two of thin wall
metal pipe like ducting and a large gas bottle with regulator and
delivery tube, he could get the system running almost silently.

Peter warned them, they had 30 minutes
to close up the tunnel and go before the security men came by.
“They are certain to stop here because of the excavator; there is
no time to drive it several kilometres back to the main
compound.”

Max, Carla, and Peter left to put the
stone slab back over the tunnel entrance and cover it with sand,
leaving Rubin behind in the tomb to do his survey. Routinely he had
brought his kit with him.

The three were glad to be out in the
blinding sunlight and searing afternoon heat, rather than the eerie
and suffocating tomb, though no one admitted it. Rubin, on the
other hand, was delighted to be there, as only a veteran
Egyptologist might!

The land cruiser drove flat out across
the smooth, hard bottom of the excavation to the exit ramp. The
straight diagonal course across the massive square excavation, from
the tunnel to ramp, added about a third of a kilometre to the
journey, but they managed to get to the storage compound and away
from the security patrol in good time. On the way, Carla spoke to
Sam and told him what he must organise and why. They dared not
consider the outcome if Sam let them down!

Rubin made his detailed notes, relating
them to sketch drawings of the tomb layout. The enormity of
discovery and countless questions flooding his mind, made him tired
and dizzy, his handwriting started off neat and legible, but was
quickly becoming more distorted and peppered with crossed out
words.

He now set up the torches to light the
first wall. He fumbled with the tripod and camera, as he focused
the first shot. The euphoria that had been gripping him was
subsiding, and he realised that he was drenched in sweat, breathing
hard and his upper body ached. The cramp in his left arm, through
holding the clipboard, had spread to his chest and back. The room
seemed to darken noticeably; the torch batteries are failing, he
thought, and stood upright to ease his pain with a stretch. As he
stood over the camera and pressed the shutter button, he shut his
eyes so he would not be blinded by the flash. His torch moved on
the smooth floor, at that moment, and rolled around in an arc,
lighting the back wall. The shadow of both the sarcophagus and
Rubin, was projected on the wall in front of the camera, from the
backlighting.

The click of the shutter was loud in
the silence of the tomb, but there was no flash, and that startled
Rubin as he opened his eyes. When he moved, the shadow on the wall
in front of him, moved.

He saw the shadow of Nahep, sitting on
the edge of his sarcophagus, behind him. The shadow of the head and
body moved, its arms slightly away from its body, gripping the edge
of the stone.

Rubin spun round, but there was nothing
there. Petrified with fear he stood staring at the sarcophagus in
the smothering cold silence. There was a sudden noise, stone
grating against stone coming from the lid. It was a sound like the
lid being raised, a micron at a time, a secretive, creeping up on
you, sound.

No longer breathing and with his eyes
fixed on the sarcophagus, Rubin, slowly, imperceptibly, reached
down for the torch on the floor. He swung the beam at the lid,
making a sharp shadow leap up the wall. Blackness closed in on him,
and the crushing pain in his chest added to his mounting terror.
The lid dropped 5mm onto its seating with a terrifying thud.

Driven by blind terror, Rubin turned
and dived towards the small hole in the wall leading out of the
tomb, into the tunnel. The coarse sandstone floor, tore open the
flesh on his hands and knees, but he felt nothing. Halfway through
the hole, the decorative belt of his jacket snagged, holding him
back like someone had grabbed it. With the superhuman strength of
terror, he scrabbled free and ran headlong up the tunnel. The
torchlight formed chasing, grabbing shadows, coming after him.
Still running, he looked behind and drove the shadows back, with
the waving beam.

In an instant, a wall of agony,
blinding light, then black, flashed through him, followed by
oblivion…

It was 6pm when the others returned to
the tomb, to unload and help Rubin. The sun was setting, and the
sweltering heat was rapidly disappearing. After sweeping the sand
away, the stone slab was lifted from the tunnel entrance. The rope
ladder was lowered, and Max climbed down first. As he carefully
felt his way to the bottom, the stench in the tunnel was awful. It
smelled like defecation rather than foul air or putrefaction.

He stepped on something hard, but
squishy, like the body of a very large snake. The darkness, recent
snake encounter in the jungle and the unnerving surroundings,
played with his imagination.

Max screamed and scrambled frantically
back up the ladder. The others were now spooked and wanted to know
what had happened. “I don’t know exactly, I think I stepped on an
enormous snake. I’m never going down there again,” he said,
vehemently!

They all shone their torches down into
the tunnel, and Carla gave a stifled scream when the beam picked
out the remains of Rubin’s head laid in, and surrounded by, a large
pool of congealing blood.

There was another head sized patch of
blood, half way up the centre of the vertical stone slab, which
closed the tunnel entrance. Rivulets of blood had run down from it
to the floor. Rubin was laid out on his back, feet towards the
stone slab, arms outstretched. A large dark stain had formed at the
crotch of his faun coloured trousers; he had shit and pissed
himself.

Rubin’s head was misshapen like a cheap
plastic football that had been stamped on, and burst. The top part
of Rubin’s head was pushed in, with large flaps of skin, and white
edged skull bone sticking out the splits. From eyebrows to jaw, the
head was intact, but the terror in the still open eyes, agony
contorted face with its open mouth in a silent tortured scream, was
devastating.

“What the hell has happened to him?”
Said Max. “I must have stepped down on his arm.”

“He is well past caring, but what
should we do now?” Queried Peter.

“I’ll tell Sam,” said Max and he made
the call.

Sam was stunned and wanted to know how
it happened.

“We don’t know! Rubin was on his own
down there, sealed in with a two-ton stone slab over the entrance.
I suppose someone might have used the excavator to lift the stone
and get in, but whom and why, no one else knows we are here?”

Have you all been together, could one
of you have gone back and done this?” Questioned Sam.

“Well, Peter had an opportunity, but
barely. To get to the tomb and back again start the excavator, get
in, beat Rubin to a pulp, clean up and so on would have taken at
least half an hour. No! That is not possible or probable; there is
no motive. I think someone or something, made him run headlong into
the wall. It has to be an accident, though I have no idea how!”

Sam replied, changing the subject, “I
have everything in place for you, just as you asked, so can you
still do your part?”

Max thought through the situation. “We
have got to bury the tomb so it will never be found; it is obvious
someone has been there, so that has to be done anyway. I think we
can still get the artefacts out in time and into the lorry,
provided it is worth the effort. What will anyone do with the
stuff, if we clear it out?”

"That is not a problem for you to worry
about, expert opinion here advises we keep it, so that is what we
aim to do," said Sam.

"Right, we will get it done then," said
Max and ended the call.

Carla heard the gist of the
conversation, and suggested the first thing was to move Rubin above
ground, wrapped in bin bags and duct tape. We need room to work in
the tunnel, and the air is bad enough without that awful smell.
When the security patrol comes back, we will have to put him back
in the tunnel until they have gone.

“Can’t we bury him in the desert?”
Asked Peter.

Max replied, “You will soon need
lights, to see where you are going out there, so you could be seen.
The smell will bring animals that might dig him up, so we cannot
risk the slight chance of discovery. No, unpleasant though it is,
he stays with us. Anyway, he deserves a decent burial.”

Max used a couple of bin liners as
protective clothing over his own clothes and wrapped Rubin up, and
hoisted the body outside. He used sand to soak up the blood and
brain matter and a shovel to scrape it up, bagging it
separately.

Following directions from Max, Peter
and Carla assembled the plastic drain pipe, so it ran along the
tunnel floor from the chamber, vertically upwards until above
ground and added a further 10 metres on top, in steel pipe. Peter
cut a small hole a metre up from the bottom of the metal pipe to
take the gas supply from the regulator on the gas bottle. Peter
turned the gas on and lit it, so it had a strong flame inside the
metal pipe and then fitted the metal and plastic pipes
together.

After 10 minutes, Max found the airflow
entering the pipe at the back of the tomb was particularly strong;
the dust in the air caught in his torch beam was snatched away up
the pipe. The hot air rising from the gentle gas flame was pulling
air from below, along the pipe, so fresh air was pulled into the
passage and the tomb, to replace it.

Carla checked Rubin’s camera and found
just the single picture. By adjusting the brightness and contrast,
she could see the under exposed image clearly enough. Her blood
froze when she saw the shadow; she was still spooked like the
others. Then it dawned on her how the shadow was formed, and later
mentioned it to Max and Peter. Also, the fuzzy headed feeling she
had earlier in the tomb was almost gone, now the air was fresh.