Pharaoh (25 page)

‘If we want to get it back, we need some money. Ali won’t wait forever. He’s still got Blake’s down payment and is willing to keep his word.’

‘Only the Institute can write a cheque for 200,000 dollars, but they’ll never do it. They were burned too badly by the story with Blake.’

Selim shrugged his shoulders. ‘Then I don’t think there’s any hope. Ali has had another offer. It’s very generous but he won’t tell me who made it.’

‘I see,’ answered Husseini.

‘Well, then?’

Husseini drummed nervously with his fingers on his desk, chewing his lower lip. An idea was beginning to suggest itself to him.

‘Go back to your office, Selim. I’ll join you after my class and I’ll come up with 200,000 dollars. Can you get a message to Ali?’

‘Sure.’

‘Then do it immediately. Tell him you’re coming with the money’

Selim went out and Husseini remained for a few moments to ponder the situation, still drumming his fingers against the top of the desk. Finally he got out his mobile phone and made a call. At the sound of the signal, he said, ‘Emergency. What sort of availability is there on the funds deposited at the International City Bank. I need some cover money.’

He terminated the connection and sat waiting, still drumming with increasing obsessiveness on the desk top. His class was scheduled to begin in five minutes.

At last, his mobile phone rang and a synthesized voice said, ‘Availability confirmed up to 500,000 dollars. Withdrawal code: Jerash.*200\x. Repeat Jerash.*200\x.’

Husseini jotted down the information and put away the phone. It was time for class. He took out the file containing his notes, texts and slides and headed towards the classroom, where his students were waiting.

The seats were almost all taken and so he began.

‘Today, we’re going to talk about the Great Library of Alexandria, which is commonly held to have been destroyed by the Arabs. I shall demonstrate the falsity of this position, using two fundamental facts: first, the library had been gone for centuries by the time the Arabs conquered Egypt; secondly, the Arabs were always champions of culture and never its enemies

W
ILLIAM
B
LAKE
watched the sequence of characters that appeared on his screen and interpreted them as:

He imagined this meant that in about eleven hours Husseini would be in front of his computer hooked up to the Internet. ‘Thank you, Mr Maddox,’ he said. ‘Now we can go.’

They left as the horizon was just starting to brighten up in the east. Blake let Maddox go ahead, then stopped in front of Sarah’s door and knocked.

‘I’m coming,’ she answered, appearing shortly in the doorway. She was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, desert boots and a military-style shirt. She had pulled her hair up, exposing her neck, and looked absolutely beautiful.

‘You look really beat,’ she said when she saw Blake. ‘What have you been up to?’

‘I worked all night.’

‘Me too,’ said Sarah. ‘Well, not quite all night.’

Wait for me at the parking lot. Just give me enough time to take a shower and make myself some toast and I’ll join you. In the meantime, you can get the equipment ready. Maddox is coming too. You knew that, right?’

The girl nodded in assent. She closed the door behind her and started walking towards the parking lot.

Maddox went up to her. ‘Well, this is the big day. Has Blake mentioned anything to you about what he’s got in mind?’

‘No. But I don’t think even he’s sure what we’re in for. He’ll tell us what he thinks once the sarcophagus has been opened.’

‘I don’t know why, but I have the impression that he’s hiding something. Keep an eye on him. I want to know everything that’s going on in his mind. You won’t regret it. In the end there’ll be enough for everyone.’

What about him?’

‘For him too,’ said Maddox.

Sullivan and Gordon showed up and then Blake joined them, a bundle of papers under his arm, saying, ‘Well, shall we be off?’

W
ILLIAM
B
LAKE
got into the Jeep with Sarah and they headed towards the Ras Udash camp. Behind them Sullivan was driving Maddox’sJeep.

‘You really look awful,’ said Sarah, eyeing her companion furtively.

‘I’ve never been much to look at, but not shutting my eyes all night certainly doesn’t help.’

‘Were you able to translate the inscription?’

‘Yes.’

‘Anything interesting?’

‘Something that can derail the destiny of the world, traumatize two-thirds of humanity and leave anyone else capable of understanding totally stunned,’ Blake said in a monotone, as if he had recited a telephone number

Sarah turned to him. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘It’s the honest truth.’

And are you sure of your interpretation?’

‘Ninety per cent.’

‘What’s missing?’

‘I have to open that coffin and look him in the face.’

‘The Pharaoh, you mean?’

‘Whoever’s buried inside.’

‘Why?’

‘The tomb could be empty. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’d have to reconsider my thinking completely. Or else the person buried there could be someone other than who I think it is.’

‘And who do you think it is?’

‘I can’t tell you, not yet.’

‘Will you tell me later?’

Blake was silent.

‘You don’t trust me, do you?’

Blake said nothing.

‘And yet I’m the only person in this camp who can save your life. And you’ve even been to bed with me.’

‘That’s right. And I’d like to again.’

‘Don’t change the subject.’

‘Revealing the identity would have a devastating impact.’

‘And that’s why you don’t trust me, isn’t it? Not even if I told you what Maddox is up to and what they’re going to do with your tomb?’

Blake turned to her sharply.

‘You’re interested, then,’ said Sarah.

‘I’ll tell you. When I’ve opened that lid.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I burned the toast. Got anything in your bag?’

‘There’re some cookies and coffee in the thermos. Help yourself.’

Blake waited until they were on more level ground, then with some difficulty poured himself coffee from the thermos. He took handful of cookies from the bag and started to eat them distractedly.

‘Well,’ Sarah resumed, ‘last night I followed Maddox and saw whom he was meeting.’

‘Did you manage to hear what they were saying?’ asked Blake between mouthfuls.

‘I took a very useful little toy with me: a high-fidelity directional microphone.’

‘You’re well equipped.’

‘That’s my job.’

‘Well, then?’

‘Maddox met with Jonathan Friedkin. Do you know who he is?’

‘No.’

‘He’s the head of the Orthodox Israeli extremists. A group of extremely dangerous fanatics.’

‘Fanaticism is always dangerous, no matter where it comes from.’

‘They have dreams of overthrowing the government of the republic and setting up a monarchy inspired by the Bible.’

‘I’ve heard about this—’

‘But there’s more. Their plan is to destroy the Al Aqsa Mosque on Mount Moriah and build a fourth temple in its place.’

‘An interesting plan, certainly. And how do they think they’re going to do that?’

‘I don’t know. But the current situation is so dramatic in the Middle East that it can only fuel the extremist positions on both sides.’

‘Yeah . . . they’re dreaming, all right . . . But the power of dreams is greater than any other. Their power is overwhelming. Do you want to know something? If I were Jewish, I would dream of rebuilding the temple, too.’

He lit a cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke into the desert air.

‘And would you be willing to slaughter people for the cause?’

‘No, not me.’

‘Will, Maddox is in with these guys. They’re going to sell the objects in the Ras Udash tomb and split up the money. It’s a colossal amount. They showed buyers the photos and sheets of your documentation. There’s a total offer of 100 million dollars, twenty of which will go to Maddox. More than enough to solve his problems. The rest will be used to finance Friedkin’s group.’

‘Bastards. And when do they plan on doing all this?’

‘Tomorrow night.’

‘You’re joking? That’s not possible.’

‘They’re going to do it. Two trucks from Mitzpe are going to come to load everything up, then they’ll head towards the coast, where a boat will be ready to take the things on board. The payment will be made when the cargo gets picked up. I see camel, I pay for camel, as they say around here, you know?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Won’t you tell me what you’ve read in the inscription?’

‘I’ll tell you. After I’ve opened the sarcophagus.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Sarah?’

‘Yes.’

‘I love you.’

‘Me too.’

They passed in front of the area with the boulders and then the inscribed rocks. They had almost reached the stretch of hammada that covered the tomb of Ras Udash.

‘How are you feeling?’ asked Sarah.

‘Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe, other times I feel like I have a hole in my stomach. Shitty.’

‘You’ve got to be strong. It’s a crucial day and you worked all night.’

‘What do you think they’re going to do to me?’

‘I don’t think they have any reason to hurt you. Maddox originally offered you money. I think you should accept it. They’ll put you on the Falcon and drop you off in Chicago. They’ll wire a nice sum of money to a Swiss bank and that’s that. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.’

‘I’ll try. But I keep on thinking about how difficult this whole situation has become.’

They stopped at the site and got out, waiting for the other two vehicles to arrive: the first with Maddox and Sullivan, the second with the workers and Walter Gordon.

Whey they arrived, Sullivan locked the wheels of the Jeep, then slipped out the winch cable, inserted it into the pulley and attached it to the plate covering the tomb. He lifted it and moved it to the side.

‘If you want to go down, I’m ready,’ he said.

‘OK,’ said Blake, ‘drop the ladder down and then the tools. When you’ve lowered everything, come down yourself, because we’ll need your help.’

As soon as the ladder rested on the bottom of the tomb, he went down, followed by Sarah. The workers were next and Maddox and Sullivan last.

‘If Mr Gordon wants to see, he’d better wait until we open the sarcophagus. There are already too many of us in here. We might break something.’

The stagnant air of the tomb was immediately filled with the odour of sweat and the atmosphere soon became oppressive.

Blake arranged four wooden blocks as shims at the corners of the sarcophagus and then placed a truck jack on top of each one. He lay wooden boards on the jacks, two parallel to the long sides of the sarcophagus and two along the short sides.

Using a spirit level, he adjusted the shims under the jacks until the four boards were completely horizontal. On the north side of the sarcophagus he positioned a piece of tubular scaffolding to act as a ramp, setting a wooden plank coated with grease on it for the purpose of sliding the lid of the sarcophagus to the ground when the time came to remove it entirely.

When the support mechanism was finished, squared and levelled, Blake put two workers at the southern corners of the sarcophagus. Sullivan and Sarah stood ready at the northern corners.

‘Now, be very careful,’ Blake said. ‘This is not the right equipment for the job, but we don’t have anything else, so we’ll have to make do. We need to try to push the four jacks upwards slowly and steadily, otherwise we might break the slab. The wood underneath and on top will cushion any uneven pushing, so we shouldn’t have too much trouble.

‘I’ll be guiding you step by step, but you’ll all have to keep an eye on the person facing you and the one beside you, and apply an even, constant pressure on the lever of the jack. Look to me for any signal. Every push should stop at the end of its stroke and start again upon my order.

‘Be careful. The first push is crucial, because it’s the one that will detach the lid from its support. If necessary, the two jacks on the north side can be pushed upwards later to create a slanted surface so that the slab can slide towards the ramp to the ground. But this is something we’ll consider when I’ve seen the inside of the sarcophagus. Any questions?’

No one spoke. Blake drew a deep breath. ‘Ready?’