The Seventh Scroll (50 page)

At his own suggestion Nahoot rode in the back of the truck, which would take just over thirty hours to cover the long and arduous journey to Addis Ababa. The Pegasus Falcon was standing on the airport tarmac when the dusty truck trundled out through the security gates and parked beside it. Von Schiller and Utte Kemper had made the journey in the company helicopter. General Obeid was with them. He had come to wish them all revoir and Godspeed.

While the wooden crates were loaded into the jet, Obeid spoke to the waiting Customs officer. He stamped the documents clearing the two cases of "Geological Samples' for export, and then discreetly retired.

"Loaded and ready to start engines, Herr von Schiller," said the uniformed Pegasus chief pilot, saluting.

Von Schiller shook hands with Obeid and clambered up the boarding ladder. Utte an& Nahoot Guddabi followed him. The rings under Nahoot's eyes were even darker and deeper than usual. The journey had come close to exhausting him entirely, but he would not let the wooden cases out of his sight.

The Falcon climbed up into a bright clear sky over the mountains and headed northwards. A few moments after the pilot extinguished the Seat Belt panel, Utte Kemper thrust her lovely blonde head through the cockpit door and asked the chief pilot, "Herr von Schiller would like to know our ETA."

"I expect to touch down at Frankfurt at 2100 hours.

Please inform Herr von Schiller that I have already radioed head office to give instructions for transport to be awaiting our arrival at the airport." The Falcon landed a few minutes ahead of schedule and taxied to the private hangar. The senior Customs and Immigration officials who were waiting for them were old acquaintances who were always on hand when the Falcon carried a special cargo. After they had completed the formalities they drank a schnapps with Gotthold von Schiller at the Falcon's tiny fitted bar, and discreetly pocketed the envelopes that lay on the bar counter beside each crystal glass.

The drive up into the mountains took most of the rest of the night. Von Schiller's chauffeur followed the covered Pegasus truck along the icy winding mountain road, never letting it and its cargo out of sight. At five in the morning they drove through the stone gate of the Schloss, where the snow lay half a metre deep in the deer park. The castle itself, with its dark stone battlements and arrow-slit windows, looked like something from Bram Stoker's novel.

However, even at this hour the butler and all his staff were on hand to welcome the master.

Herr Reeper, the custodian of von Schiller's collection, and his most trusted assistants were also waiting, ready to move the two wooden cases down into the vault. Reverently they loaded them on to the forklift and rode down with them in the specially installed elevator.

While they unpacked the crates, von Schiller returned to his suite in the north tower. He bathed and ate a light breakfast, prepared by the Chinese chef. When he had eaten, he went to his wife's bedroom. She was even frailer than she had been when last he had seen her. Her hair was now completely white, her face pinched and waxy. He sent the nurse away, and kissed his wife's forehead tenderly.

The cancer was eating her away slowly, but she was the mother of his two sons, and in his own peculiar way he still loved her.

He spent an hour with her, and then went to his own bedroom and slept for four hours. At his age he never needed more sleep than that, no matter how tired he might be. He worked until midafternoon with Utte and two other secretaries, and then the custodian called on the house intercom to tell him that they were ready for him in the vault.

Von Schiller and Utte rode down together in the elevator, and when the door slid open both Herr Reeper and Nahoot were waiting for them. One look at their faces told von Schiller that they were beside themselves with excitement, bubbling over with news for him.

"Are the -rays completed?" von Schiller demanded as they hurried after him down the subterranean passageway to the vault.

"The technicians have completed their work," Reeper told him. "They have done a fine job. The plates are wonderful. Ja, wunderbar!'

Von Schiller had endowed the clinic, so any request of his was treated as a royal command. The director had sent down his most modern portable ray equipment and two technicians to photograph the mummy of Lord Harrab, and a senior radiologist to interpret the plates.

Reeper inserted his plastic pass card into the lock of the steel vault door, and with a soft pneumatic hiss it slid open. They all stood aside for von Schiller to enter first.

He paused in the doorway, and looked around the great vault. The pleasure never palled. On the contrary, it seemed to grow more intense every time he entered this place.

The walls were enclosed in two metres of steel and concrete, and were guarded by every electronic device that genius could devise. But this was not apparent.when he viewed the softly lit and elegantly appointed main display room. It had been planned and decorated by one of Europe's foremost interior designers. The theme colour was blue. Each item of the collection was housed in its own case, and each of these was cunningly arranged to show it to its best advantage.

Everywhere was the soft glimmer of gold and precious gems nestling on midnight-blue velvet cushions. Artfully concealed spotlights illuminated the lustre of lovingly polished alabaster and stone, the glow of ivory and obsidian. There were marvelous statues. The pantheon of the old gods were here assembled: Thoth and Anubis, Hapi and Seth, and the glorious trinity of Osiris and Isis and Horus, the son. They gazed out with those inscrutable eyes which had looked upon the procession of the ages. On its temporary plinth in the centre of the room, in pride of place, stood the latest addition to this extraordinary hoard, the tall, graceful stone testament of Taita. Von Schiller stopped beside it to caress the polished stone before he passed on into the second room.

Here the coffin of Tanus, Lord Harrab, lay across a pair of trestles. A white-coated radiologist hovered over her back-lit display board on which the ,ray plates were clipped, Von Schiller went directly to the display and peered at the shadowy pictures upon it. Within the outline of the wooden coffin, the reclining human shape with hands crossed over its chest was very clear. It reminded him of a carved effigy atop the sarcophagus of an old knight in the precincts of a medieval cathedral.

"What can you tell me about this body?" he asked the radiologist without looking at her.

"Male," she said crisply. "Late middle age. Over fifty and under sixty-five at death. Short stature." All the listeners winced and glanced at von Schiller. He seemed not to have noticed this solecism. "Five teeth missing. One front upper, one eye too and three molars. Wisdom teeth impacted. Extensive caries in most surviving teeth. Evidence of chronic bilharzia infection. Possible poliomyelitis in infancy, withering in left leg." She recited her findings for five minutes, and then ended, "Probable cause of death was a puncture wound in upper right thorax. Lance or arrow. Extrapolating from the entry angle, the head of the lance or arrow would have transfixed the right lung."

"Anything else?" von Schiller asked when she fell silent. The radiologist hesitated, and then went on.

"Herr von Schiller, you will recall that I have examined several mummies for you. In this instance, the incisions through which the viscera were removed appear to have been made with more skill and finesse than those of the other cadavers. The operator seems to have been a trained physician."

"Thank you." Von Schiller turned from her to Nahoot.

"Do you have any comments, at this stage?"

"Only that these descriptions do not fit those given in the seventh scroll for Tanus, Lord Harrah, at the time of his death."

"In what way?"

"Tanus was a tall man. Much younger. See the portraits on the coffin lid."

"Go on,'von Schiller invited.

Nahoot stepped up to the display of -ray plates and pointed out several solid dark objects, all of them with clean outlines, that adorned the body.

"Jewellery," he said. "Amulets. Bracelets. Pectorals. Several necklaces. Rings and earrings. But, most significant," Nahoot touched the dark circle around the dead brow, "the uraeus crown. The outline of the sacred serpent is quite unmistakable, beneath the bandages."

"What does that indicate?" Von Schiller was puzzled.

"This was not the body of a commoner, or even of a noble. The extent of ornamentation is too extensive. But most significant, the uraeus crown. The sacred cobra. That was only worn by royalty, I believe that what we have here is a royal mummy."

"Impossible," snapped von Schiller. "Look at the inscription on the coffin. Those that were painted on the walls of the tomb. Clearly this is the mummy of an Egyptian general."

"With respect, Herr von Schiller. There is a possible explanation. In the book written by the Englishman, River God, there is an interesting suggestion that the slave Taita swopped the two mummies, that of Pharaoh Mamose and his good friend, Tanus."

"For what earthly reason would he do that?" Von Schiller looked incredulous.

"Not for any earthly reason, but for a spiritual and supernat urat reason. Taita wished his -friend to have the use and ownership of all Pharaoh's treasure in the afterworld. It was his last gift to a friend."

"Do you believe that?"

"I do not disbelieve it. There is one other fact that tends to support this theory. It is quite obvious from the Xrays that the coffin is too large for the body within. TO me, it seems obvious that it was designed to

accommodate a larger man. Yes, Herr von Schiller, I do believe that there is an excellent chance that this is a royal mummy."

Von Schiller had gone ashen pale as he listened. Sweat headed upon his forehead, and his voice was hoarse and chesty as he asked, "A -royal mummy?"

"It may very well be so."

Slowly von Schiller moved closer to the sealed coffin on its trestle, until he was staring down at the portrait of the dead man upon its lid.

"The golden uraeus of Mamose. The personal jewellery of a pharaoh." His hand was shaking as he laid it on the coffin lid. "If that is so, then this find exceeds our most extravagant hopes."

Von Schiller drew a deep steadying breath. "Open the coffin. Unwrap the mummy of the Pharaoh Mamose."

It was painstaking work. Nahoot had performed the same task many times before, yet never on the earthly remains of such an illustrious personage as an Egyptian pharaoh.

Nahoot first had to establish where the joint of the lid lay beneath the paint. Once he had done this, he could whittle away at the ancient varnish and glues that secured the lid in place. Great care had to be taken to inflict as little damage as possible: the fragile coffin in itself was a priceless treasure. This work took the greater part of two days.

When the lid was free and ready to be lifted, Nahoot sent a message to von Schiller, who was in an executive meeting with his sons and the other

' directors of his company in the library upstairs. Von Schiller had refused to go into the city for this meeting: he could not bear to be separated from his latest treasure. Immediately he heard from Nahoot he adjourned the meeting until the following Monday, and dismissed his directors and his offspring unceremoniously, Then, without waiting to see them into their waiting limousines, he hurried down to the vaults.

Nahoot and Reeper had rigged a light scaffold over the coffin, from which hung two sets of block and tackle. As soon as von Schiller entered the vault, Reeper sent away his assistants. Only the three of them would be present to witness the opening of the coffin.

Reeper brought him the carpet-covered block for him to stand on and'positioned it at the head of the coffin, so that von Schiller would be able to see inside as they worked. From this eminence the old man nodded to them to proceed. The ratchets of the two blocks clicked, one pawl at a time, as both Reeper and Nahoot gently put pressure on the tackle. There was a faint crackling and tearing sound, at which von Schiller winced.

"It is only the last shreds of glue holding the lid," Nahoot reassured him.

"Go on!" von Schiller ordered, and they lifted the lid er six inches until it hung suspended over the body anoth of the coffin. The scaffolding was on nylon castors which rolled smoothly over the tiled floor. They wheeled away the entire structure, with the coffin lid still suspended from it. Von Schiller peered into the open coffin. His expression changed to one of astonishment. He had expected to see the neatly swathed human form lying serenely in the traditional funereal pose. Instead, the interior of the coffin was stuffed untidily with loose linen bandages that entirely hid the body from view.

"What on earth-' von Schiller exclaimed with astonishment. He reached out to take a handful of the old discoloured wrappings, but Nahoot stopped him.

"No! Don't touch it," he cried out excitedly, and then immediately apologetic. "Forgive me, Herr von Schiller, was im but this is fascinating. It strongly supports the theory of an exchange of bodies. I think we should study it, before we proceed with the unwrapping. With your permission of Herr von Schiller."

course, Von Schiller hesitated. He was anxious to discover what lay beneath this rat's nest of old rags, but he realized the virtue of caution and prudence now. A hasty move might do irreparable damage. He

straightened up and stepped down from his block.

"Very well," he grunted. He pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his dark blue doublebreasted suit jacket, and mopped the heavy sweat from his face. His voice was shaky as he asked, "Is it possible? Could this be Mamose himself?"

Stuffing the handkerchief back into his trouser pocket, he discovered with mild surprise that he had a painful erection. With his hand in his pocket he rearranged it to lie flat against his stomach. "Remove the loose wrapp

"With your permission, Herr von Schiller, we should take the photographs first," Reeper suggested tactfully.

Of course," von Schiller agreed at once. "We are scientists, archaeologists, not common looters, Take the photographs."