The atlantean artifact, p.32
The Atlantean Artifact, page 32
And Julie knew also that Agent Sharpe was not only out of his jurisdiction, he didn’t have a jurisdiction. The fact he was here was surprising — Interpol wasn’t a police force, but merely a communications firm that assisted national and local governments. He was probably feeling as overwhelmed with his involvement as Julie was with her own, but she knew there wasn’t anything he could do or say to call off the Mukhabarat men. They were on a mission, and Julie and her team was the threat.
They would eliminate the threat, or they would fail.
And she didn’t seem to think they were interested in failure.
She followed close behind Reggie, Mrs. E, Alex, and Ben just behind her. They twisted through the near-empty expanse of the Valley Temple. Most of the tourists had been scared off by the impending violence and gunshots, and were making their way to the eastern gates in droves. A few stragglers — either people unaware of what was taking place or choosing to remain ignorant — stayed behind, reading inscriptions and walking among the pillars of stone in the temple.
Julie hoped for their sake that the men following them wouldn’t be careless enough to crack off shots as soon as they rushed inside.
Reggie turned right up ahead, then immediately left. Thanks to the lack of a roof covering their route, Julie could just barely see the top of the Sphinx’s head in the distance, and she noticed that the winding path Reggie was taking through the column-laden temple was going to end up somewhere near the southeastern side of the Sphinx.
Just as Julie took the left turn, she saw Reggie step through a plastic sheet that was blocking a doorway at the northwestern corner of the Valley Temple. The doorway was narrow, hardly wide enough for a pair to fit through side-by-side, and a sign stood next to the door stating the purpose of the closed-off section in English and Arabic.
Causeway currently closed; no public access.
Reggie didn’t stop to ponder the sign’s meaning or ask the others for their opinion, he simply ran through the thin plastic sheet, tearing it from the weak painter’s tape holding it to the stone walls. Julie followed behind him, finding herself running down an infinitely long tunnel. The ‘causeway’ was also roofless, and the bright sun illuminated the entire strip of stone pathway that ran the distance between the Valley Temple and its destination, somewhere near the front of one of the pyramids.
Julie didn’t know what the causeway’s original purpose was, but it was clear that it was now used for some sort of construction project. She hurdled paint cans, sawhorses, and other tools and supplies as she ran. More plastic sheets covered the stone walls, and scaffolding had been erected in a few places over the top of the causeway, allowing workers to pass overhead as necessary.
Reggie ran ahead, then stopped at an intersection with another passageway that branched off the causeway to the right.
“This shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, breathing heavily.
“What do you mean?” Julie asked.
“This causeway,” he replied. “It’s just a long and straight stone passageway, probably meant to bring water up to the pyramids. There weren’t any offshoots, from what I remember.”
“Maybe you missed it?” Julie said, just as the three stragglers behind her caught up, all of them panting.
“No,” he said. “I mean, it’s newer, too. Look.” He pointed to the walls around the main causeway, then at the newer passageway. Julie had to admit the new branch looked to have been cut recently, the fresh corners and edges still sharp.
“You’re right,” Ben said. “So… do we take it?”
Reggie looked behind him, then nodded. “They’re going to be right behind us, and there’s no other exit from the Valley Temple besides this causeway. It’s too long to run the length of it before they’re on us, so we’ll be sitting ducks. This fork is the only way to go. They’re probably —“
Before he could finish, Julie heard the sound of heavy boots — many pairs of them — echoing louder through the causeway.
“They’re almost here,” Reggie said. “Come on.”
Julie didn’t hesitate. She followed Reggie into the perpendicular branch off the main causeway. It was covered, and thus darker. Reggie had slowed down, so as not to miss any dangerous ledges or obstacles, and Julie kept up.
CHAPTER 70
BEN
The doorway that had been cut into the side of the causeway wall led to another hallway, this one a bit higher, but narrower, than the original Egyptian one. It was darker, too, owing to the fact that this hallway still had a roof — or at least the bedrock that the hallway had been cut out of hadn’t been cut all the way to the surface. Sand and chips of rock piled along the sides of the hallway, and a light coating of dust picked up and filled the air as they walked inside.
Ben couldn’t at first see exactly how far the hallway had been cut, but after a few seconds his eyes adjusted and he saw that the hallway ended only twenty or so feet ahead.
Unfortunately, the way it ended was in a thick, massive metal door, completely closing off access to whatever lay behind it.
“Not good,” Reggie said.
“Definitely not good,” Ben echoed.
Ben heard the footsteps behind them growing in volume, and he could see the shadows of the soldiers looming in the longer causeway.
“What is it?” Alex asked. “It’s obviously modern.”
“No idea,” Reggie said. “Probably some sort of access corridor for maintenance or something.”
“Whatever it is,” Mrs. E said, “it is locked.” She pulled on the handle again and the door didn’t so much as budge. “We are stuck here.”
Ben felt the adrenaline rush he had been on immediately leave him, and his heart sank as he looked at Julie. He moved in front of her, blocking her view of the main causeway. And blocking their view of her.
He wouldn’t be much of a shield, but it was better than nothing.
“Should we rush the hallway?” Ben asked.
Reggie was standing next to him, both large men standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the smaller corridor, completely filling the space. “We don’t really have a choice, I guess,” Reggie said. “On my count.”
Ben nodded, then sucked in a deep breath and let it out.
“One,” Reggie said, his voice a whisper.
Ben watched the shadows bouncing toward them, growing larger and fainter as they neared their position. The heavy footfalls thundered down the causeway, and the cacophony of it all made it sound like there was an army bearing down on them.
“Two.”
Ben knew they had less than three seconds before the soldiers and Sharpe reached their position. Three seconds to prepare whatever defense they had in mind — in this case, nothing more than hoping their surprise attack took them off guard. Three seconds to tell Julie —
“Three!”
Reggie lurched forward just as the first soldier rounded the corner. Reggie flew at the man with an unbelievable speed, his shoulders hunched but his head up, aiming the crown of his forehead toward the chin of the first man.
The cracking sound of the impact — bone on bone — reverberated even louder than the footfalls, and it took Ben a split second to realize it wasn’t just the impact from Reggie’s head-butt that had made the sound.
The second soldier in the line of the men running down the length of the causeway had reacted to Reggie’s attack with a quick pull of his trigger. The assault rifle’s retort sent the round sailing toward Reggie, landing in the thickest part of his upper thigh.
He screamed, falling sideways, just as the first soldier — the man whom Reggie had hit with his head — recovered and lifted his own rifle.
Ben stopped dead in his tracks. He had been running as well, but his speed was no match for Reggie’s and his friend had taken off and raced in front, reaching the causeway and the first man in the line a second before Ben.
Now, Ben was standing at the intersection of the causeway and its smaller corridor, staring down the barrel of a Maadi MISR 7.62mm assault rifle.
He swallowed, then closed his eyes. Reggie groaned from his spot on the ground in the causeway, the blood on his leg beginning to pool around him.
This is it.
He heard a loud cracking sound and he held his breath. The sound was followed by a smaller, lighter squeak, and he dared a glance at the soldier.
The man wasn’t looking at him.
Instead, the soldier had his eye on something over Ben’s shoulder. Ben let out the breath, then turned around.
Behind Julie, Mrs. E, and Alex, the metal door at the end of the corridor was opening.
“Hold your fire!” a voice shouted.
Agent Sharpe.
Ben recognized the man’s voice, and when he turned back around he saw the Interpol agent standing next to the man holding a gun in Ben’s face.
“Wait! Don’t shoot!” he said again. He pushed the man’s rifle down, stepping up and into the smaller corridor.
The door behind Ben opened fully, and he heard someone shuffle out. He turned around, his back now to the gunman and Agent Sharpe. He saw a woman — short, a bit stout, but with a youthful face that was bright and cheerful. She stepped fully out the open door, and Ben could see that there was another man standing directly behind her.
And he, too, was holding a weapon.
“Welcome, Gareth,” the woman said. “This must be your team. The Civilian Special Operations, I believe?”
Reggie didn’t speak.
“I hope you are ready to learn what all this fuss has been about. Please, come in.” She motioned for the five of them to follow her, but Reggie didn’t budge.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Until you tell me where Sarah is.”
The woman smiled. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll tell you what — I’ll make you an even better offer: come in and see what she’s been helping us with. She’s been helping her father figure out a crucial part of our research. They are both unharmed, and would be quite excited to see you.”
Reggie frowned, then looked at Ben. Ben shrugged, just as he felt the barrel of a rifle press into the small of his back. Agent Sharpe was suddenly standing next to him.
“You can’t get us out of this?” Ben asked Sharpe. “You know we’re innocent.”
Sharpe looked over at Ben.
“What?” Ben asked. “Can’t you just make a call? Tell everyone here what’s going on, and that we haven’t done anything wrong?”
Sharpe examined his face, then with a heavy sigh, dropped his shoulders. He lifted his pistol slowly, then held it up to the back of Ben’s head. “Sorry, Harvey. I — I can’t.”
Ben’s mind was racing. What the hell is happening? He turned his gaze back to the smiling woman.
“Thank you, Agent Sharpe,” she said. “Your work is greatly appreciated.”
She knows him?
Then, as afterthought: she’s working with him?
Ben felt his temper beginning to build. They thought they had all been chased here, when in fact they had simply been corralled here. They had been chased into a trap, and that trap had just closed.
“My team will follow all of you — Mr. Sharpe included — inside, and lock the door. I hope you understand that our security here is mostly to prevent tourists from wandering around in places they are not safe. This corridor —” she held up her hand at the rock-cut hallway — “is fresh, and although our engineers have assured me of its integrity, they are certainly no Aryan builders.”
She turned around and began walking back inside, the man standing behind her stepping out of the way.
Mrs. E and Alex walked inside as well, followed by Julie.
I guess we really don’t have a choice, Ben thought.
Reggie sighed, but he didn’t fight. Ben knew the man wanted answers — but more than that, he wanted Sarah back.
CHAPTER 71
BEN
Ben felt the growing anger in him fighting against the genuine curiosity he was feeling.
This place… it’s amazing, he thought.
He wasn’t an archeologist, and he’d never been much an historian. The closest claim to either of those titles was a distant niece he had who was working toward a successful career as an archeologist. Still, there was something about this place that told him they were treading into uncharted territory. The walls, the ceiling, the floors — all of it was cut from the same stone, and all of it had an earthy, empty, dead quality to it.
Like walking through a tomb, he thought.
He’d been in plenty of caves — mostly against his better judgement — and this place had the same feel as an underground cavern. The humidity was higher, but the temperature was thankfully lower than the sweltering desert outside. It wasn’t perfect, but it was comfortable.
“This area is the antechamber for the Great Hall,” the woman said, narrating their journey through the dimly lit hallways. Ben noticed that the lighting was supplied by mounted bulbs that hung from their chains, all the power running through extension cables and piles of cords. “The Great Hall, of course, is beneath the Great Sphinx itself. It has been lost to time, but that is mostly due to the work of Egyptians themselves, who have done a remarkable job erasing its existence from the global record. It has taken me nearly all of my career here to convince the government to allow my team and me to excavate and explore the Hall.”
Julie picked up her pace and reached a spot just behind the woman. “What are you talking about?”
“There will be time for that,” she said. “But we need to hurry, as the final trial is about to begin. I’ll explain on the way.”
The final what?
The woman continued talking as she led them down the corridors. “I have been in charge of the Ministry of Antiquities’ Prehistory Division for four years now. My mission was to rejuvenate and protect the ancient history of the Egyptian people, but what that really means is that I’m in charge of ensuring a steady income stream from tourism.
“However, I was interested in not only protecting our great monuments and artifacts, but expanding them. My family knew of a long-hidden hall, filled with the recorded accounts of a great civilization, far more ancient than the Egyptians. They worked their entire lives to find the ‘Great Hall of Records,’ but ultimately failed. Their work, however, will not go undone. When I took the job, I used the information and knowledge I had collected over the years to find this place and begin the excavation. Eventually, I knew the Great Hall would reveal itself to me.”
“We’re in the Great Hall of Records?” Reggie asked.
She shook her head. “No — this is the antechamber, or chambers. We’ve converted it to our office space, and kept its true identity hidden from the government.”
“Why?”
“Because the government isn’t interested in the truth,” she said, quickly. “The government is interested in money. And stability. And preserving the belief that Egypt is the first great civilization.”
“You don’t think they are?” Julie asked.
She smiled. “I do not. The ancient Egyptians were no more than a band of roving barbarians. Their ‘kingdom’ was nothing before my ancestors came. They taught the Egyptians how to farm, how to learn, how to navigate. They taught them how to be a civilization. Their architecture, belief systems, religion — all of it — was learned. What the Egyptians want to believe is a lie. A lie that’s been fed to the rest of the world since the rediscovery of the Great Pyramids.”
Ben could sense that they’d struck a nerve with the woman, and that she was either about to launch into an elaborate diatribe or just get angrier and shut down.
But he wanted her to talk, so egging her on was worth the risk.
“The Egyptians built the pyramids, though,” Ben said. “So why would anyone believe that someone else —”
“The Egyptians learned to build the pyramids from someone,” the woman snapped. “They didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to start erecting the tallest building the world had ever known — or would know for centuries beyond. They were taught. Like everything else they’re credited for, they learned it.”
“From who?” Ben asked.
“From my ancestors.”
“And who, exactly, are they?”
The woman stopped, now standing in the middle of a long hallway. Ben could see offices set inside rock-cut rooms. Strings of single-bulb light fixtures hung in each room. Most of the offices were closed, large metal doors mounted over the original openings, but the chambers he could see into were sparse and undecorated, with only a computer and desk in the space.
“My ancestors are the original inhabitants of the Holy Land. They are the original proprietors of the Garden of Eden. They are the one, true race of pure humans, designed by God in God’s image. They were the chosen people, meant to populate the earth and procure their place as the ‘rightful ones.’”
Ben’s eyes widened as she spoke. She actually believes this crap? “That’s… that’s the sort of stuff that got Hitler into some trouble,” he said.
The woman glared at him. “My great-grandfather would agree.”
Ben frowned.
“He was a brilliant scientist, hired by Hitler and his party to observe, study, and experiment with different strains of genetic material. Of course, at the time, genetics was a very new field —“
“I think they called it eugenics,” Ben said, not trying to hide the disdain in his voice.
“Call it what you will,” the woman continued. “My great-grandfather was part of one of the original teams that worked for Heinrich Himmler. He created many of the tests to study the effects of hypothermia and how to combat it.”
“And how many people did he kill in those experiments?” Reggie asked.
The woman swung around to face him. “His research led us to much of the medical knowledge we have today.”
“His research led to innocent men, women, and children being murdered for absolutely no —“
“Enough,” she said. “The past is the past. I am interested in the future. My work here is nearly complete, but for one small piece.”
