Silver Tomb (The Lazarus Longman Chronicles Book 2) Page 7

  “No mystery who they got them from,” said Katarina. “We’re in the right village, at least.”

  “But at decidedly the wrong time,” said Lazarus as the ‘boom-boom-boom’ of Ahmed’s rounds sounded out from the rooftop. “Come on, let’s make a break for it.”

  One of Ahmed’s cousins stood in the entrance, blocking their way onto the street, a carbine held across his chest. Mohamed cried out to him, “Let them pass, in the name of Allah! What use are they to us?”

  “Shut up and take that chest of ammunition up to your brother, Mohamed!” said the man in the doorway.

  Mohamed, cowed once again, did as he was told. An explosion rocked the building and they were thrown off their feet as dust and fragments of shattered mud brick filled the air.

  “They’re using grenades in a civilian area, the mad bastards!” said Lazarus, coughing on the dust.

  He was on his feet before their opponent and drew his revolver in one fluid motion. The man tried to level his rifle at him, but Lazarus sent a bullet into his forehead that knocked him backwards, spilling out a long stream of blood. There were cries from the men in the street who had seen what he had done. Several bullets ricocheted off the wall, forcing Lazarus and his companions to duck. Another explosion lit up the sky as a grenade bounced off the roof of a neighboring building, sending the men in the street hurrying for cover.

  “Now’s our chance!” said Lazarus, and the three of them were on their feet and hurrying across the debris-strewn street towards the darkness of the palms, while the crackle of gunfire sounded out behind them.

  Captain Hassanein’s men had been forced to retreat during the night, beaten back by the force of the el-Rasoul family’s firepower. They sat now in the morning sun by the banks of the Nile, licking their wounds. Lazarus was livid with the police captain, and had told him in no uncertain terms what he thought of a man who stormed a village in the middle of the night without warning and began tossing grenades around.

  “And yet you saw the firepower they owned,” was the captain’s defense. “You see what I have to deal with in my country? Peasants armed with military grade weapons. And who sold them these arms? The British, the French and your American friends.”

  “Well what are you planning to do now that your police investigation has turned into a war?” asked Katarina. “You’ve shot to hell any chance of finding the source of the antiquities.”

  “Not at all,” replied Hassanein. “I only need to break their resolve. Once I have worn down their defenses, we shall take the village and every last member of that family shall be bastinadoed until they tell us everything we want to know.”

  “Well, it looks like they’re the ones holding the cane at the moment,” said Lazarus.

  “Oh, they manage an impressive display of force in street battles,” said Hassanein. “But we have the river on our side.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No number of rifles and Gatling guns can stand up to shell bombardment.”

  Lazarus glanced over the tips of the tents at the military steamer the reinforcements had arrived on last night. Several men on board were uncovering four deck-mounted breechloaders.

  “You’re not serious,” said Lazarus. “You can’t blow the place to smithereens and then pick what you want out of the ruins! There’s innocents there… women and children!”

  “You have seen how innocent they are!” snapped the captain. “Three of my men are dead; men with wives and children! The only answer for villages like these is swift and direct action.”

  “But at least give them an ultimatum!” Lazarus cried. “Give them a chance to give up what they know before you shell them into oblivion!”

  “And risk more of my men’s lives by carrying useless messages into that rats’ nest?”

  “Then I’ll go,” Lazarus said with determination. “I’ll go and speak with this Ahmed el-Rasoul.”

  “Have you forgotten that you shot and killed one of his cousins?” Katarina asked him. “They’ll string you up from the highest palm tree.”

  “Then I’ll go,” said Petrie.

  They all turned to look at him.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “They have no reason to despise me. And besides, I have some experience with dealing with villagers like these.”

  “Good God, man these aren’t cheerful fellahs looking for work,” broke in Brugsch. “These are desperate rebels with nothing to lose.”

  “And that is precisely why they might be bargained with,” Petrie replied. “They have no other option but to cooperate to avoid being wiped off the map, if indeed this collection of mud huts exists on any map at all.”

  “I don’t like this, Flinders,” said Lazarus. “You’re an archeologist and a scholar. It should be an agent like Katarina or myself, someone trained in these situations…”

  “Let a woman go in alone while an army of men stand by?” exclaimed Petrie incredulously. “Never, sir!”

  Lazarus expected Katarina to put up a fight, not only against Petrie’s chivalry but against the whole situation—but she did not. He supposed that even she knew she hadn’t a chance of persuading four men to let her wander into the village alone, even if she wanted to.

  “Are you sure you can handle this, Flinders?” she said.

  “I’m not sure, no,” said Petrie. “But I’m the only one here who has a chance of getting everybody out of this situation without any more bloodshed, so I’m bloody well going to try.”

  They had to agree, and even Captain Hassanein was brought round to the idea, but, he stated, if the scholar did not return by sunset, the bombardment of the village would begin, with him in it if necessary.

  They wished the young Egyptologist luck as he handed over his revolver and set off towards the village, his arms raised upwards in a sign of peace. Lazarus was not a praying man but in that moment he offered a silent prayer to any god that might be listening to watch over his friend.

  The rest of the day was spent in agonizing waiting. The police steamer drifted at its mooring threateningly, its guns loaded, manned and ready for action. Captain Hassanein and Émile Brugsch sat smoking in a large tent that had been erected to shade them like some conquering crusaders or Saracens in the time of Richard the Lionhearted.

  The sun was beginning to drop and Lazarus couldn’t take it anymore. “Listen, Katarina,” he said gravely. “If Flinders doesn’t meet Hassanein’s deadline, I’m going in for him.”

  “You’ll be killed!” said Katarina. “He won’t halt the bombardment just because two Englishmen are in there.”

  “I can’t help that, but I asked Flinders along on this mad caper and now he might get killed because of me.”

  “Didn’t you think of that before you invited him along? Didn’t you think that it might be dangerous for a scholar to get involved in the things we deal with?”

  Her tone was not accusatory, but Lazarus felt accused nonetheless. Poor Flinders had been as eager as anything to accompany him up the Nile. Perhaps he had been blinded to the danger by the thought of what archaeological finds might be out there. Perhaps Lazarus, had been blind, too.

  Dusk was falling and the shadows were growing deeper. Lights had begun to appear in the village. Torches on the steamer and in the camp also were being lit. The expanse of sand and dust between their encampment and the village looked empty and lonely. Captain Hassanein had left his tent and was stretching his limbs. He was not far away from readying his troops for battle.

  “Here he comes!” said Katarina.

  Lazarus peered into the gloom. There, by a cluster of palms, came Petrie hurrying towards them, clearly trying to keep to the shadows. Following him closely was another figure.

  “There’s somebody with him,” pointed out Katarina.

  “It’s Mohammed, Ahmed’s brother,” said Lazarus.

  Petrie and Mohamed panted into the camp, having run the entire distance from the village. “By God, I’m glad to get out of there!” the Egyptologist exclaimed
.

  “What happened?” asked Katarina.

  “Water first,” panted Petrie. “And for my friend Mohamed, also.”

  “Friend?” demanded Hassanein, his men standing by to clap Mohamed in irons.

  “Stay your brutality for five minutes, Captain,” said Petrie. “This man came of his own free will and has agreed to help us.”

  Water was brought and the two men drank deeply. “The negotiations lasted the whole afternoon,” explained Petrie, toweling his face and neck off with a damp cloth. “Ahmed was ready to have me executed as a foreign spy and a minion of the Khedive. Thanks to the protestations of his brother here, I am still alive. That’s the second time he’s saved our life so I’d be grateful if he was treated gently.”

  “Why do you stand against your brother to save us?” Lazarus asked Mohamed in Arabic.

  “My brother and I have not seen eye to eye in many months,” the Egyptian replied. “Since our father died, he has assumed the role as head of the family and yet he still treats me as if I were a child and not a man of twenty-two.”

  “And for this you betray him?” Captain Hassanein demanded, clearly not believing a word of it.

  “He steals from the family also,” said Mohamed, casting his eyes downwards. Lazarus understood that no matter what his brother had done, this betrayal came hard to young Mohammed. “He does not give me my share.”

  “Share of what?” Hassanein asked. “There’s very little wealth to be had in this pit of squalor and yet your family seems to live in a large and well-kept house.”

  “My share of the money we make from selling treasures.”

  “So you admit to robbing tombs and selling on their goods?” said Brugsch. “Do you know the location of any tombs that the Antiquities Department is unaware of?”

  “Yes,” said Mohammed. “There is one tomb, near Deir el-Bahari. I discovered the entrance six years ago. It is a deep one, accessible only via a hole in the ground.”

  “Six years?” exclaimed Brugsch. “And you’ve kept it secret all this time?”

  “Yes. At first we kept strangers away by killing a donkey and leaving it to foul at the entrance to the tomb. The stink was terrible but it meant that nobody came near. But then, people started to notice our goods on the market and became suspicious, so we stopped selling for a time. Ahmed is a risk taker and driven by greed. It was he who wanted to start selling again. I told him we should wait another year, but he insisted. And now the whole family is in danger because of his greed.”

  “If this fellow agrees to take us to the tomb,” said Petrie, “can we assure him that he will be dealt with leniently or preferably pardoned for his part in the crimes?”

  Hassanein grimaced. He clearly would have preferred to get a confession out of Mohamed in his own way, thus avoiding the need to strike a deal, but even the iron-fisted police captain had to see that Mohamed was being surprisingly helpful. “Very well,” Hassanein said. “If he continues to help us then I see no reason to press charges. His brother on the other hand…”

  “Then we shall set off at first light?” Lazarus asked.

  “Yes. For now, get some rest. This prisoner—ah, witness—shall be kept under close guard.”

  Chapter Eight

  In which the City of the Silver Aten is discovered

  “You do realize that Mohamed was not telling us the whole truth,” Petrie said, once Brugsch and Hassanein had retired to their tent and Mohamed had been taken to a secure part of the camp.

  “Oh?” said Lazarus.

  “Doubtless he knows the location of a royal tomb somewhere in this area, but the silver items probably come from a different source.”

  “You yourself said that the royal mummies hail from several different dynasties,” said Lazarus. “Perhaps they were all moved into a tomb connected with the silver Aten.”

  “Perhaps, but the tomb Mohamed described sounds like a small one, most likely the tomb of a minor royal figure, or perhaps one of a priest or nobleman simply used as a cache for the other mummies. Lindholm and Rousseau must have found something bigger to spend so much time out here. I’m guessing they have found a religious centre, perhaps as large as Tell el-Amarna, and have employed these villagers to either work there or to ward off snoopers like ourselves by providing them with American arms. And, Mohamed said that this tomb at Deir el-Bahari was discovered six years ago, long before Lindholm came to Egypt.”

  “I’ve a feeling you’re right,” said Lazarus. “I’d like to ask Mohamed a few more questions without Captain Hassanein present.”

  It was arranged easily enough. There were three men guarding the tent where Mohamed was being kept, and they were persuaded to take a few steps out of earshot under the pretense that their close proximity might tighten the prisoner’s tongue under further interrogations. Afforded this little privacy, they put their questions to the Egyptian.

  He seemed reluctant at first to further his betrayal of his family, but after Lazarus and Petrie had convinced him that they knew a damn sight more than they should about certain things, coupled with their assurances that under no circumstances would the results of this second interrogation reach the ears of Captain Hassanein, Mohamed began to talk.

  “It was last year. An American came to our village and talked for a long time with Ahmed. I was not allowed in on the negotiations, but they made a deal about a place buried in the sand further west that we did not know about. I don’t know how the American knew of it for none of my people had ever heard of or seen the place.”

  “This American,” said Lazarus, “did he have a woman with him? A lover, perhaps?”

  “He had a French woman,” said Mohamed. “I do not know if she was his lover.”

  “All right, go on.”

  “Ahmed, I and our cousins were employed by this American to dig and to contract people from the other villages to dig at this new site. He paid us well in coin and in supplies; food, materials, weapons. We were to protect the site at all costs and to tell nobody of it under pain of death. Ahmed ensured these rules were adhered to. Three villagers already lie in shallow graves because they broke the rules.”

  “But these rules did not forbid the taking of items from this new site,” said Petrie. “The silver items.”

  “Ahmed again. We should not have taken objects from the American’s dig but my brother’s greed knows no boundaries. He would have killed anybody else who might have attempted the same, but he stole the items himself and passed them on to Murad to sell in Cairo. He felt that our original source of treasure was running low after the American began requesting the mummies be removed to his temple complex.”

  “Wait, the American wanted the mummies removed from Deir el-Bahari?” asked Lazarus.

  “Yes, only the mummies. He wasn’t interested in the treasure, just the mummies. We took them to him one at a time under cover of night. But there are still many that remain.”

  “What did he want them for?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to tell Ahmed that as long as the American did not want our treasure then we did not need to steal from his site, but my brother has grown paranoid over the years and will not let any piece of gold, silver or turquoise slip through his fingers.”

  “What is this new site like?” Petrie asked him.

  “It is an evil place,” Mohamed mumbled as if haunted by memories of it. “Big. Many tombs, many temples.”

  “Hear that?” Petrie hissed to Lazarus in English. “This could make my name in Egyptology!”

  “But evil spirits walk those ruins,” said Mohamed as if picking up on Petrie’s enthusiasm. “Ancient, pagan things from before the birth of the Prophet. The old people destroyed it for a reason, and it should have been left beneath the sand, forgotten.”

  “The old people destroyed it?” Petrie asked. “Do you mean intentionally razed it to the ground?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just like at Akhetaten…”

  “The buildings on the surface are naught but r
uins and rubble, but beneath the earth are many caverns left untouched—secret places that even the old people did not find. My own people refused to go down there after we had broken the seal. Only the American and his woman dared to.”

  “Are you telling me that the seal was unbroken when you uncovered the city?” asked Petrie with great excitement.

  “Yes.”

  “Does this American and his woman live up at the site?” Lazarus asked.

  “Yes. There are a handful of my people who camp there also as guards, but they do not go down into the tombs. Only the American and his woman. What they do down there I do not know, nor do I wish to.”

  “Where is this place? Tell us how to get there.”

  “You must travel west, keeping between the two mountain peaks. Once you are on the other side of them, turn south, following the wall of the canyon. When that wall sinks down into sand, continue west and then, after half a day you will find the ruined city.”

  Feeling that there was no more to be got from the Egyptian, they retired and held a council on what was to be done.

  “On the morrow, Petrie,” Lazarus said, “Émile Brugsch will make a discovery the like of which has never been seen before—a cache of royal mummies spanning many dynasties. Are you sure you want to let him have all the glory by throwing your lot in with us?”

  “Lazarus, my friend, there is no question of it. We shall make a discovery that will eclipse any moldy old mummies that Brugsch might find. If what I believe is correct, then we shall find another Akhetaten! The twin of Akhenaten’s religious metropolis! The home of the second half of his heretical faith!”

  “Very good. And you, Katarina? You haven’t shot me yet, so I suppose we’re still friends.”

  “Your best bet at staying friends with me, Longman, is to stay out of my way when we reach this desert city. Lindholm is mine, do not forget that.”

  Lazarus sighed and they began kitting themselves out for a long journey. At daybreak they pinched three camels from the soldiers and enough durra grain to feed them for three days. While Captain Hassanein and the rest of the camp were still slumbering by the river, they loaded the camels up with full canteens and as much spare food as they could pilfer from the camp’s stores. They set out before sunrise, following the river south, breaking off towards the mountains as the sun was just beginning to creep up over the horizon at their backs; Akhenaten’s god, leering at them, daring them to find his twin out in the desert.