Four Ways to Pharaoh Khufu (10 page)

Chapter 13

Berlin, Germany

Tuesday, September 19

4:20 p.m.

T
he phone had been stubbornly silent for the past three days. Picking up the phone the German lady listened to the dial tone for a moment before angrily slamming it back onto its base unit.
He should have called
, she thought. The phone squeaked compassionately but refused to jingle its familiar ringtone. She rewarded it with a look of distain, and then shoved it across the desk.

Anna Schulze, age twenty-five, sat inside her Berlin apartment staring at the phone, her big, green, almond-shaped eyes glistening with tears. Anna’s beauty laid precisely within her eyes, in the vitality of her manners and in her facial expressions. A person’s eyes are the mirrors of their soul. They are the only part of the face that nothing can disguise. You cannot paint over them or even sprinkle them with golden dust: they will always remain windows.

Her basic personality traits were not as easily recognizable. While she came off as cool and kept a low profile with most people, they saw her goodness and sincerity in her eyes. Although she did not have many friends, she was ready to give anything that was required. With her close friends, she was usually cheerful and enjoyed playing practical jokes. It was well known that she never put up with lies and hated hypocrisy the most.

Anna pulled the phone cord out of the jack in the wall and opened up the drawer in her nightstand. She shoved the entire thing, handset, base unit and long cord, inside with a disdainful look. “I don’t deserve your silent treatment!”

While Anna was addressing her phone, this poignant speech was in actuality addressed to her new boyfriend, Seth. They had been dating for about a month, and she could not believe he could not find the courage to apologize. All it would take is three simple words: ‘I am sorry.’

They met at a party thrown by one of her work colleagues. Seth’s Middle Eastern accent and his 19
th
century Spanish toreador look had definitely cast a magic spell on Anna. She found him staring at her from across the crowded dance floor, and before long he was next to her, asking for a dance. After several whirling dances Anna felt exhilarated and breathless, delighted that his gorgeous eyes followed her every move. When they danced to a slow sweet song, he confessed that when he had caught sight of her, he had been overtaken by a giddying belief that he would spend the rest of his life with her: the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He said it so beautifully; his eyes so mesmerizing, that Anna had stepped into his spell willingly. He found her a drink and they walked away from the crowd and onto the balcony, the city lights and noises sparkling and echoing around them. They ended up spending the entire night chatting until the morning sun began to peek up in the sky. Prior to meeting Seth, Anna had thought that the idea of love at first sight was a load of rubbish. Yet, as soon as she met Seth, she knew she had to be with him.

Anna opened the nightstand drawer and stared at the mutinous phone. Sighing, she pulled the base unit and phone out of the drawer and gently reconnected its cord back to the wall jack. Otherwise, how was she going to find out whether he had called? She listened tensely for its ring as she walked into the bathroom and turned on the bathtub faucet. The phone remained silent. As the water slowly started filling up the bathtub, Anna thought of her magical time with Seth. It did not make sense that he did not call.

Their first days could have been directly lifted out of a fairytale. He met her with a bouquet of freshly cut red roses every day after work, and they would head for the city park where they would walk, chatting and laughing. It seemed like the fairytale romance would never end, but about a week ago Seth’s personality had changed literally overnight. One night she asked him about his Egyptian friends who often lurked in the shadows of their relationship. She found it strange that he would not introduce her to them since they seemed to be a big part of his life. Anna asked if she could accompany him to one of their meetings, but got a fierce refusal. He told her not to bother as they would be talking in Arabic, and that it did not concern her. He was adamant that she was not to meet his friends, which put Anna ill at ease. Two days ago, Seth had promised to call her the next day and clarify everything. He still had not.

“Ring! Ring! Ring!” The phone, of course, chose the absolute worst possible moment to ring. Anna groaned as she sat up in her in her hot, bubbly bath and contemplated ignoring the mutinous phone. But then she imagined how much she would enjoy cursing out her boyfriend for his tardy ways. At this thought, Anna stood up, wrapped a thick pink flowery towel around her and carefully stepped out of the bathtub. She ran down the short hallway and grabbed the phone. “
H
allo?
”

“Hello, can I please talk to Anna Schulze?” Michael asked politely, glancing at the business card.

“This is Anna,” answered a pleasant, female voice with a German accent.

“Yes, hi, you speak English, I presume, right?”

This was definitely not the call she was expecting. “Yes,” replied Anna. She scurried back to her bathroom, awkwardly pulling off her towel as she held the phone up to her ear. “May I ask who is calling?”

“Oh, hello! I called your company GRCAnwälte …”

“Yes, GRCAnwälte,” interjected Anna “that’s my workplace.” She flopped back into the hot, bubbly water.

“They told me you were on vacation and gave me your home number. I need to tell you something very important,” Michael said, catching his breath. “I want you to sit down and listen to me carefully.”

“Yes, please continue.”

“I’m not gonna continue until you tell me you are sitting down.” Michael paused for a couple of seconds. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes,” said Anna, sitting comfortably in her bubblicious bathtub. “I can assure you I’m sitting down.”

She sounded relaxed, so Michael figured this was as good of a time as there could be to continue. “Do you know a man named Günther Schulze?” He asked.

“Yes, of course. He is my father,” she responded immediately, a tone of uncertainty creeping into her voice. “Why?”

“Unfortunately, I have bad news about your father.”

“Who are you, and how do you know my father?”

“My name is Michael.” He cleared his throat. “Michael Doyle. I’m an American on vacation in Egypt. I met your father inside the Great Pyramid yesterday.”

“Oh? What do you mean you have bad news?”

Michael spoke gently, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but he died yesterday.”

“What?” Anna nearly shrieked into the receiver. “What are you talking about? It can’t be! How did he die? Where? What happened?”

“I don’t know exactly how he died. That’s what I’m trying to find out. Apparently I was the last one who saw him alive.”

Anna sobbed. “Are you sure?” She asked after a short pause.

“Yes, I’m sorry, but I’m quite certain. I performed CPR, but he died in the ambulance. Again, I’m sorry for your loss. He handed me your business card and made me swear to contact you. So I am doing my best to honor his last wish.”

“But how is this possible? What did the doctors say?”

“Heart attack. Apparently, they think your father was claustrophobic.”

“Claustrophobic?” She screamed at the top of her lungs, causing Michael to wince on the other end of the line. “That’s not true at all. He was a healthy man for his age and definitely not claustrophobic. He worked inside the pyramids almost every day. There has got to be some other explanation.”

“Well, he told me he was …” Michael paused for a moment and lowered his voice almost to a whisper, “poisoned, but at the time I thought he might have been hallucinating. But later on, it actually made perfect sense.”

“Poisoned? What? Why? And by whom?” Anna’s shocked voice sounded paper-thin.

“I don’t really know, but the Cairo police inspector involved in the case thinks that your father might have acquired some type of ancient artifact.”

“What kind of artifact?” Michael could tell that Anna’s puzzlement was genuine.

“I don’t know. I was under the impression that you knew about it.” Michael paused for a couple of seconds to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Do you know anything about the phrase, ‘find four ways’?”

“No. I don’t know what you are talking about. Find what four ways?”

“I have no idea. But that was the last comprehensible phrase I heard from your father. He said something about finding four ways.”

“Well, we haven’t been close for the past couple of years. He left my mother for a younger woman almost my age, and I never forgave him for that. I have barely spoken to him since then. He has tried to reach me on several occasions recently, but I always refuse to talk to him or see him.”

Michael did not know what to say, so he fell back on the only thing that he could think of to say, “I’m sorry.”

Anna sobbed. “The last time he called me was about a week ago. He said he was on the verge of some great discovery, but I was in a huge hurry to go somewhere so I interrupted him and ended up hanging up on him. You know, I got a package from him today.”

“Was there anything in it that mentioned four ways?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She paused for couple of seconds. “But… he did mail four Egyptian souvenirs to me.”

“Souvenirs?”

“Well, actually papyruses.”

“Really?” Michael uttered as Anna’s last phrase captivated his full attention. “Real ancient papyruses?” he asked enthusiastically.

“Of course not, don’t be silly! They are imitations of the real ones. Every time he traveled to Egypt, he always brought me back some type of papyrus. That was our thing ever since I was a little girl.”

“Are you sure they are imitations?” Michael asked, still intrigued by the possibility.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry; I don’t think I can help you.”

“Well, I’m sorry your father died. I believe he was a noble man.”

“Thank you.”

“In case you need me, I’m staying in Cairo for another week, and you can reach me at the Cairo Downtown Hotel in room number thirty-six.”

“Ok. Thank you for calling and letting me know. It was kind of you to do that for a stranger. Bye Michael.” She hung up the phone, reached over and set it down on the edge of the sink. She sat very still for a long time, deep in thought, as her bath water slowly cooled off. When she finally dragged herself out of the tub, she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and burst into tears again. Her normal, everyday life was shattered.

The doorbell rang, startling her. She clutched her towel and stood quietly, dripping bath water. She simply could not deal with anyone right now. Suddenly she yearned to be home. Running far away from Berlin and its memories sounded good. She thought of her grandmother and her sunny cottage in the country. She wished she were eight years old and curled up by her grandmother’s side, her eyes closed as she listened to her grandmother’s gentle voice telling her a story.

Chapter 14

El Alamein – Cairo route, Egypt

Tuesday, September 19

8:15 a.m.

A
fter releasing his prisoner, Asim had the driver return to Cairo via the long route. El Alamein, with all of its pristine beach resorts, was soon far behind them and replaced by shepherds grazing their herds on the street curbs. The innumerous sand dunes, tiny Army outposts and villages chaotically situated alongside the road flew past. On the horizon, dark chestnut-haired camels scampered through scattered palm gardens that surrounded frugal villages made up of trounced huts.

The long drive back to Cairo was not an easy one. As El Alamein was slowly swallowed up by the desert expanses, Asim huddled in the backseat tightly holding his cloak against his bleeding wound. The blood had started soaking through the cloak, and it was not long before Asim realized he was losing too much blood. One hundred and thirty miles was way too long to wait in agony and risk his life from blood loss or infection. His chief needed him, predominantly now, as it truly was the darkest time in the Medjay’s long, proud history.

Asim was gazing out the cab’s dismally smudged window to keep his mind off the pain when he caught sight of some tents. He recognized them instantly as Bedouin villages. His chief’s wise words ran through his mind. “Asim, if you are ever in trouble, make your way to the nearest Bedouin tent. They are nomads like us and will always help you in your darkest hour.” Asim decided to test this hospitality. After all, it was likely the only place where he could get help and no one would ask too many questions.

The taxi slowed down for the tiny army outpost. Once the outpost disappeared from view and he saw a narrow paved road ahead, Asim signaled the driver to pull over. Giving him explicit instructions to wait for him, no matter what transpired, Asim gingerly stepped out of the vehicle. He made sure his crusader sword was still slung across his back, pulled his cloak tightly around him and slowly began his journey into the desert, merging into the vast landscape of dunes.

Asim made his way on the narrow, paved road that eventually turned to sand. After trudging through the sand for a while, the path then narrowed down and turned into a hard, little path, bordered by tufted grass that could hardly conceal a single person. The sun stood high overhead, banishing the morning chill. Asim ran his tongue across his parched lips, realizing the blood loss made the heat even more deadly. Fortunately, he did not have that much further to go. As the trail began to climb steeply, rising between the cliffs of chopped red sandstone, Asim could already make out the silhouettes of the Bedouin’s tents more clearly now as they spread across the vast horizon. The red sandstone cliffs gradually yielded to a dull-white, weathered limestone. He paused. The silence was so abundant around him that it sounded like some strange, primeval roar.

Peering over the cliff’s horizon he spotted the nearest Bedouin tent about 100 meters away. Although his body was becoming heavy with exhaustion, he quickened his pace. He methodically followed the meandering curve of the little path around the base of one of the cliffs. As soon as he reached the side of the cliff, Asim found himself almost nose-to-nose with a Fellah with a dagger raised high above his head. The warrior was wearing a traditional
dishdasha
, an ankle-length blue robe with no collar and wide, free-cut sleeves. His headgear consisted of a
kufiya
, a square cotton scarf, which was held in place with an
igal
, a doubled rope-like cord made of camel wool.

Astonished by the man’s presence after his solitary journey, Asim slowly raised his hands in surrender. The Fellah seemed to be studying Asim’s attire closely but made no move to speak. A few moments later Asim took the initiative. “
As-salāmu `alaykum
. My name is Asim. I’m a Medjay and have come from the great tribe of the Great Chief Jibade. I’ve been badly hurt and need help. If you can help me, I will greatly appreciate it, and if not, I will seek help somewhere else.”

“Wa 'alaikum salam,” the Fellah lowered his dagger. “I am called Zaid Al-Hilali, and I’m Bedouin. We are people of the desert, and our long history with the Medjay goes back hundreds of years. A Medjay is always welcomed in my home. I would not think to turn you away.” Together they walked to his dwelling, a traditional Bedouin tent made of goat and camel hair panels stitched together. While the tent felt very hot to the touch on the outside, it remained blissfully cool on the inside. Asim welcomed the cool, dark tent after such a hot, dusty walk in the bright, blazing sun.

Offering Asim a seat on a rug, Zaid barked several phrases toward the female side of the tent. Within seconds, a middle-aged lady, covered from head-to-toe in a black robe appeared. As she peered cautiously at Asim, he stared at the curtain of gold and silver coins that was secured at her hairline and cascaded down her face. Zaid barked another order and the woman quickly ran outside. “To summon a medicine man,” explained Zaid.

In the meantime, Asim was offered a delicious glass of
badawi shai
, a special blend of tea prepared over an open fire right outside the tent. As Asim drank it, his host explained that the tea had multiple healing effects from its many herbs, and that it would help him relax and regain his strength.

Asim was already semiconscious by the time the old Bedouin medicine man arrived. He wore a goatskin
kaftan
, a front-buttoned, long sleeved overdress reaching the ankles. Many handkerchiefs and ribbons symbolizing serpents were embroidered on the kaftan. Some ribbons were shaped like a snake’s head with an open mouth and eyes. The larger snakes forked their tails, and a trio of snakes had one head. The kaftan also had several iron objects attached to it, including some small bows and arrows, designed to scare the evil spirits. Attached to the back were several copper circles and various animal skins. The collar was decorated with a fringe of flamboyant feathers.

After quickly looking at Asim’s bloody cloak, the medicine man wordlessly pulled a few supplies out of his bag. He laid some herbs, scissors, a needle and some thread on a white handkerchief. A candle and matches were brought out, and he proceeded to light the candle. He pulled a bottle out and opened it, pouring a specially prepared liquid solution into a small bowl. After saying a few connotation chants, he placed the thread in the bowl. He picked up the scissors and neatly cut the rip in Asim’s cloak larger. He looked at the wound and then gently applied several herbs to it. In a few short seconds, the whole area was numb. Running the needle through the candle’s flame several times, he then began to slowly stitch up Asim’s torn side. When the job was done, he tied a knot at the end of the thread as tight and close to the last stitch as possible. The Medicine man then chanted a few closing connotations. He blew out the candle and gathered his items into his bag, instructing the Bedouin host to give Asim a specially prepared medicinal drink. He got up, nodded to those watching and quietly left the tent.

Asim woke up a few hours later and glanced down at his wound. There were no blood spots anywhere. Zaid pointed to the cup placed nearby and Asim sipped slowly despite the taste being a bit bitter for him. A thin smile found its way to his lips as he thought of the chemist Nassar. It was, after all, nowhere near the worse thing he had drunk recently. Once he had reached the bottom of the cup, Asim felt an incredible relaxation spread throughout his muscles as well as a burst of energy. Shortly, the stiffness around the wound disappeared. Zaid’s family rejoiced and organized a festivity in honor of their healed Medjay visitor.

That evening, Asim sat outside the Bedouin tent, in the middle of the majestic desert, under the endless, starry, Egyptian sky. The crackling fire warmed him as he was nourished with traditional Bedouin dishes: pita bread;
mensaf
, rice with lamb meat; and fresh, delicious, cardamom-spiced coffee. Soon after the food was consumed, musicians started playing
shabbabas
, small lengths of narrow metal pipes fashioned into a flute of sorts, and the
rababa
, a versatile, one-string violin. Zaid’s wife and three daughters and some other women from nearby tents sat in rows facing each other and engaged in a sort of sung dialogue that was composed of various mysterious verses. The instruments and voices dramatically intertwined, glided away in the night air and then echoed back in whispers over the open expanse of the desert.