Pharaoh (14 page)

After Gordon and Sullivan had turned in, Maddox asked him, ‘Professor Blake, in your opinion, just what are those things down in the tomb worth?’

It was a question that Blake had been expecting for some time. ‘In theory, they’re priceless. Certainly in the field of tens of millions of dollars.’ And he tried to look for a reaction to his words in the eyes of both Maddox and Sarah.

‘In theory?’ asked Maddox.

‘Yes, that’s right. Getting the material out of here would be almost impossible. You’d have to corrupt half the public officials of the Arab Republic of Egypt and even if you did, that wouldn’t be enough. In theory, you could use your Falcon, but you’d have to practically rebuild it inside to make it suitable to transport such goods, and out here that wouldn’t be simple. Without considering that you’d have to build a protective framework around each piece, increasing their bulk tremendously. Some of the pieces wouldn’t even fit through the door.

‘And even if you did manage to move a certain number of objects, the smaller ones, say, you wouldn’t be able to exhibit them or allow potential buyers to make them public in any way. The sudden appearance of all this material from such a rich archaeological find, completely undocumented, would lead immediately to an investigation and Egypt would demand the return of the goods. It would be a very big mess to talk your way out of.

‘My opinion, once again, is that the discovery should be announced officially and the findings published, Mr Maddox.’

Maddox didn’t answer and Sarah Forrestall continued to sip her coffee, as though it were none of her business.

‘It doesn’t depend on me, Professor Blake,’ said Maddox finally. ‘In any case, we need a detailed estimate of the value of the tomb contents, as accurate as possible.’

‘I’ll do that,’ said Blake, ‘but only when I’ve finished with the excavation. It wouldn’t make sense now. We don’t even know what’s in the sarcophagus.’

‘As you wish, Blake, but keep in mind that we won’t be here for long. Goodnight, Professor.’

‘Goodnight, Mr Maddox,’ replied Blake. Then, as soon as Maddox had left, he turned to Sarah. ‘What is this story about the estimate?’

‘Shall we take a walk?’ asked Sarah.

Blake followed her and they crossed the camp, passing in front of the tents of the workers, who were sitting around playing cards and drinking beer. It was almost time for the generator to go off.

‘It’s logical, isn’t it?’ observed Sarah. ‘There are tens of millions of dollars down there in assorted antiquities and it’s more than understandable that Warren Mining is eager to do business.’

‘I thought that cadmium exploration and processing were Warren Mining’s core business.’

‘They are, but the company’s in financial trouble.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Rumours.’

‘Just rumours?’

‘No, not only. I accessed a restricted file in the host computer. These guys owe me a lot of money. I had the right to find out more about the company’s financial situation.’

‘But this is crazy! You really think they want to solve their financial problems with archaeological finds?’

‘Why not? All they are to them are goods with an extremely high market value that could save them from bankruptcy. You tell me why else they would have organized this whole thing, and why they picked someone like you.’

‘You mean, why did they pick a failure?’

‘I mean a man who’s an outsider, isolated, out of a job.’

Blake didn’t answer. The generator abruptly went off and the camp was plunged into darkness, leaving the mountain peaks to hold up the miracle of the night sky. Blake’s gaze wandered through the infinity of stars teeming across the diaphanous veil of the galaxy. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said. ‘But it’s not important compared to the enigma that’s hidden in that tomb. You have to help me save the evidence that destiny has protected over thousands of years.’

‘How? Maybe you don’t realize how tightly controlled we are. We are always being watched, every time we leave the camp, and I can guarantee that every time we drive back in, someone checks the mileage on the Jeep. Are you thinking you could just load it all up and carry it off with you across the desert? With what?’

‘Damn,’ burst out Blake, realizing how totally powerless he was. ‘Damn!’

‘Come on,’ said Sarah. ‘Let’s go back. We’ve got a tough day ahead of us tomorrow.’

They walked in silence to Sarah’s trailer and, as she inserted the key into the lock, Blake put a hand on her arm. ‘Sarah.’

The girl turned towards him, trying to make out his expression in the dark. ‘What is it?’

‘You have got to have a topographical map of this area.’

Sarah seemed disappointed by his question. ‘Yes, of course, but it won’t help you. All the coordinates have been taken out. All the place names are in Arabic. You know that this place where we are is called Ras Udash, but that hasn’t answered any of your questions, has it?’

‘Sarah, I want to see that map. Please.’

‘This isn’t an excuse to get into my room, is it, Professor Blake?’

‘That’s a possibility. So, can I come in?’

Sarah opened the door. ‘Let me light the gas lantern,’ she said, feeling her way in the dark to find some matches. She placed the lantern on a drawing table with the map tacked onto it. ‘Here it is. See, just like I told you. No references. Just about ten named places in all, including Ras Udash.’

Blake put on his glasses and examined the map carefully. ‘It’s like I thought. This map is a computer printout. That’s how they deleted all the references. There’s got to be a master copy somewhere that contains all the coordinates.’

‘Very probably.’

‘Do you have a mobile hard disk?’

‘Sure.’

‘What capacity?’

‘Two gigabytes.’

‘Great, that’s more than enough.’

‘I get it,’ said Sarah. ‘You think you can find the master, copy it onto a disk, transfer it onto your computer and print it. Right?’

‘That’s the idea.’

‘Fine, but I have no idea where to look for the master, if it exists. And how could I manage to fool around with Maddox’s computer without anyone noticing or getting suspicious?’

‘You told me that you’d accessed a restricted file on the main computer. If you wanted to help me, you could do it again.’

‘It’s not the same thing. What you’re asking me to do would take too long. The guy in charge of the computer is one of Maddox’s must trusted men, a technician named Pollock. He sits there the whole time the generator is on.’

‘Well, how did you do it the first time?’

‘Pollock has his habits. Every morning at ten he goes to the latrine and spends ten minutes there, if not more. It depends on whether he takes a magazine to read or not. But for your problem, Blake, ten minutes or even fifteen would not be enough. A topographical map takes up a lot of memory. Finding it will take time and copying it even longer.’

‘I realize that,’ said Blake. ‘But I absolutely have to know where I am. It’s the only way I’ll be able to figure out who is in that tomb and why it’s located in such an out-of-the-way place. If what you’ve said is true, as soon as I’ve finished excavating they’ll send me packing, leaving them free to ransack the chamber and take away all their goodies. Sarah, I didn’t come here to help a bunch of tomb raiders. This is an extraordinary scientific discovery and a unique opportunity for me. Help me, for God’s sake.’

‘Tomorrow I’ll give it a go. I have an idea I could try.’

‘I really appreciate it,’ said Blake. ‘If we succeed it will really give me a fighting chance.’ He turned towards the door. ‘Goodnight, Sarah. And thanks.’

‘Goodnight, Will. No problem.’

‘Know something?’

She looked at him with curiosity. ‘What?’

‘This thing about turning off the generator at this hour seems totally idiotic.’

‘It’s Maddox,’ said Sarah. ‘He can’t sleep with the noise the generator makes. Or maybe he can’t fall asleep if he knows someone is doing something he doesn’t know about. It does give us some interesting opportunities, though. Like they say, every cloud has a silver lining, right?’

Blake looked at her as if seeing her for the first time and lowered his gaze, confused. ‘Sarah, don’t play games with me. I’m not the type of man who could have an affair with a woman like you and come out smiling the day it was over. Just a week ago, you invited me to stay out of your life and that’s no problem for me. My balance is still a little . . . off.’

He caressed her hand lightly, then nodded goodbye and walked towards his own lodgings. In the distance he could hear the insistent noise of helicopter blades, and lights were flashing in the same direction, behind the hills. He could hear Jeeps rumbling over the mountainside and noticed the wake left by a couple of tracer shells. It was certainly the strangest mining camp he’d ever heard of.

He lit his gas lantern as soon as he got in and began to study the photographs he had taken of the inscriptions from
The Book of the Dead
on the walls of the tomb. There was something strange, something peculiar, in those hieroglyphics that he couldn’t quite get a handle on. Something familiar nagging at the back of his memory. Was it the type of expression? Or the style of the writing, the ideograms?

He boiled water for tea and lit a cigarette, walking back and forth in the little room, trying to focus on what was disturbing him.

He poured the dark, clear tea into a glass, Oriental-style, dropped in a couple of sugar cubes and drank, enjoying the strong, sweet beverage. He inhaled a puff of smoke from his cigarette and for a moment felt that he was back in Omar al Husseini’s apartment in Chicago, on that freezing, desolate evening. His heart skipped a beat: the Breasted papyrus!

That’s what the writing on the tomb wall reminded him of ! The use of certain ideograms with given meanings, the way the scribe had drawn the signs for ‘water’ and ‘sand’. Could it possibly be the same person? Maybe it was just a casual coincidence, Breasted’s handwriting that for some weird reason looked like that of a scribe who had decorated the walls of a tomb in the desert.

He sat down at his desk, took paper and pen, and wrote out a letter that he would email the next day. His hands trembled with excitement.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, as soon as he woke up, Blake went to knock on Sarah’s door. She answered in pyjamas and he handed her a disk.

‘Sarah, there’s a file that has to be emailed on this. You could take it with you into Maddox’s office and if Pollock comes back while you’re still there you can say that you just came to send an email. What do you think?’

‘Good idea, even though this whole thing is nuts.’

‘Thanks, Sarah. You won’t be coming to the dig, then, today.’

‘No, seeing as I’ll be busy here at the camp.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ said Blake.

‘Me, too,’ said Sarah. And she seemed sincere.

Blake reached the Bedouin tent, where the other members of his expedition were already having breakfast. He had a cup of milky coffee with cereal and some dates. Then he packed something for lunch and headed for the parking lot, followed by Ray Sullivan.

‘Miss Forrestall won’t be coming out to the site, today, Mr Sullivan,’ he said, before getting into the Jeep. ‘She has important business here at the camp. We’ll have to make do.’

‘Fine, Professor Blake,’ replied Sullivan, starting up his vehicle and accommodating the three new workers.

The sky was partially overcast, with a front of clouds coming up from the north-east. A gentle wind blew over the expanse of desert. Half an hour after they’d set off, Blake turned back towards the camp and could distinctly see the pyramid-shaped mountain and, in the distance, the other mountain that looked like a sphinx. If Sarah managed to get him a topographical map with coordinates, he’d surely be able to interpret those bizarre natural phenomena.

When they got to the site it was nearly nine o’clock, and the sun was already quite high. Blake descended into the tomb with the three men who would be digging and using the vacuum cleaner, and he couldn’t help but notice their astonishment as they took a first look around. He realized that the discovery really had been kept a secret that only a very restricted group of people were privy to.