The Forbidden Tomb (46 page)

He glanced around the lounge, making eye contact with everyone on the team. ‘As improbable as it may seem, I assure you that Egyptian priests had a masterful knowledge of the stars above and how they related to the earth below. Now all we have to do is crack their map and figure out where it’s pointing.’

Despite Manjani’s impassioned speech about the star map, Garcia was forced to point out the obvious. ‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but like I told Sarah, I don’t believe we have enough information to crack their code. In fact, I’m sure of it.’

‘Why not?’ Cobb asked.

‘Determining latitude by looking at the stars is relatively easy. Once you find the North Star, you can measure its angle from the horizon to figure out your latitude.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘There’s no horizon on the map. It’s just not there. And even if it were, we would run into the much larger problem of longitude. To calculate it accurately, you need to know the time difference between an event that occurs at the prime meridian and when that same event occurs where you are.’

‘Wait,’ McNutt said, obviously confused. ‘How can the same event take place twice in different parts of the world? Are you talking about time travel, or clones? Or time-traveling clones? Oh my God, I’d
definitely
watch that movie.’

‘Actually,’ Garcia said, ‘I’m talking about celestial events that are perceived differently all over the world.’

McNutt grimaced. ‘Somehow your explanation made it worse.’

Garcia changed his approach. ‘Think about high noon. Not noon on your clock, but
solar
noon – the moment at which the sun reaches the highest point in the sky. That moment happens at some point everywhere on earth, but it doesn’t happen at the same time in every location. If solar noon is at 11:56 at the prime meridian, but it occurs at 12:04 where you’re standing, then you can calculate your longitude as long as you know the difference in time. At one degree for every four minutes, you’d be two degrees west of the prime meridian.’

Cobb stroked his chin in thought. ‘Not to complicate the issue even further, but was there even a prime meridian back then?’

‘Surprisingly, there was,’ Manjani replied. ‘The astronomer Ptolemy defined the first set meridian sometime during the second century. And guess where he was from?
Alexandria
. It’s not the same standard used today – his line ran through the Canary Islands – but it was known throughout the educated world and it was definitely known by the priests of Amun. They would know the concept better than most.’

Garcia groaned in frustration. ‘Once again, I’m not challenging their expertise. All I’m saying is that this particular star map can’t be used to plot longitude and latitude to the level of precision that we’d require. It simply doesn’t have enough information.’

Manjani was disappointed, but not defeated. He knew that the map would lead them to Alexander’s tomb, he just didn’t know how.

McNutt cleared his throat. ‘I know this might be a little late – I kind of drifted there when you mentioned time-traveling clones – but I think you’re giving these priests way too much credit. I mean, how can they be experts if they can’t even draw the sky right?’

Cobb glanced at him. ‘What do you mean?’

McNutt pointed at the star map on the screen. ‘There are stars on here that don’t exist. You know that, right?’

‘How could
you
possibly know that?’ Sarah demanded.

‘This isn’t my first trip to the Middle East. I’ve spent hundreds of nights looking up at this sky, with nothing to keep me company but my spotter and my M40. We used to make a game of it – naming stars after all the things that we missed back home.’

‘You memorized the constellations?’ Papineau asked.

McNutt nodded. ‘And all the other stars, too. We didn’t know their real names, so we improvised. The Arabian Goggles. The Rusty Trombone. The Angry Dragon.’

Sarah rolled her eyes, knowing damn well that he probably learned those terms while on leave in Tijuana or Bangkok. ‘So what are you saying?’

‘A dozen of these stars weren’t on my list.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m positive! I never had a chance to use the Arctic Helicopter.’

Cobb glanced at Garcia. ‘What do you think?’

Garcia shrugged as he considered the possibilities. ‘If we’re talking about a couple of stars, then there’s always a chance that they burned out during the last two thousand years or so, but if we’re talking about a dozen, there has to be another explanation.’

‘Such as?’

‘Specks of dirt on the lens. Particles of dust in the air. Imperfections in the rock. And, of course, the most obvious choice: McNutt is bat-shit crazy.’

McNutt laughed. ‘Maybe so, but I’m not wrong.’

‘Then prove it,’ Cobb said as he tossed a magic marker to McNutt. ‘Show us which stars don’t belong.’

McNutt was up to the challenge. So much so, he rushed to the oversized screen and started to circle stars before Garcia or Papineau had a chance to stop him. ‘This one. And this one. And this one, too. And both of those . . .’

From his seat at the table, Manjani used a notebook to keep track of the celestial anomalies by charting the dots that didn’t belong. Once McNutt was finished, Manjani stared at his drawing in disbelief. ‘I’ll be damned.’

‘What is it?’ Garcia demanded.

‘Your friend is right. They aren’t stars. They’re ancient Egyptian cities.’

Manjani drew a frame in the shape of Egypt’s border around the points he had plotted, then turned the paper around for everyone to see. ‘They follow the path of the Nile, from Abu to Alexandria.’

Papineau was skeptical. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Not
positive
, at least not yet – but it certainly makes sense. To avoid detection in Alexandria, the high priests of Amun hid in plain sight. They blended in with the culture around them. Why should their secrets be any different? This is a map within a map. The star map protects the map of the land, just as they protected the tomb. In their world, it fits perfectly. Even if the grotto was found by those who didn’t belong, this was an added level of security that would ensure the tomb’s safekeeping. In ancient Egypt, few people studied astronomy on this level. Only the priests would have known how to distinguish the cities from the stars.’

‘He’s right,’ Garcia said as he superimposed a map of ancient Egypt over the collection of rogue dots on the screen. The two layers lined up perfectly.

Papineau was pleased but not overjoyed. ‘That narrows our search to about fifty cities, most of which don’t exist anymore. Regrettably, we don’t have the resources or personnel for that type of investigation, not with our timetable.’

‘What if I can narrow it down for you?’ Manjani asked.

‘That would be great.’

‘How?’ Cobb demanded.

Manjani pointed at the screen, drawing their attention to a pair of dots far to the left of the others. Given the location of most of the cities along the Nile, these dots would be found somewhere in the middle of the Sahara. ‘One of these isn’t a city.’

The team stared at the diagram of ancient Egypt that had been superimposed over the image of the dome. It was simply uncanny how perfectly the markings matched the cities. The precision of the priests who had carved the dome was staggering, and all of it had been done without the sophisticated equipment available to modern cartographers.

‘Can you center the map on western Egypt?’ Manjani asked.

As the image shifted, the group could see that only one of the two dots in the desert aligned with a known city. It was nestled among a cluster of small lakes near the Libyan border. The other dot stood by itself, only a few miles away.

Manjani pointed at the city between the lakes. ‘This is Siwa. To the east and west, it is bordered by saltwater lakes. To the north and south, it is surrounded by desert. It is an isolated city hemmed in on all sides by hostile environments nearly incapable of supporting life. And yet Siwa thrives because the land is riddled with more than one thousand freshwater springs.’

Sarah chimed in. ‘Are we talking about a few hundred nomads who have settled near a water source, or something more substantial?’

‘Considerably more substantial,’ he replied. ‘Siwa is home to roughly twenty-five thousand people, and most of them are farmers. Despite the salinity of the nearby lakes, the soil in Siwa is perfect for growing olives and dates. And not just a few trees here and there, but thousands of trees, covering considerable acreage.’

Garcia typed furiously on his keyboard. A moment later, a colorful photo of an olive plantation in the Siwa Oasis appeared on the screen, showcasing hundreds of squat, bushy trees, each with dangling green fruit. ‘There are approximately seventy thousand olive trees in the region, and more than three hundred thousand date palms.’

McNutt whistled in amazement. ‘Wow. That’s a lot of martinis and . . .’ He turned toward Sarah. ‘What do I do with dates?’

‘Disappoint them?’ she joked.

Cobb smiled. ‘Let’s move past their agriculture and focus on what’s important. What’s the connection to Alexander?’

‘Plenty,’ Manjani answered. ‘After establishing his plan for what would become Alexandria, he then set out westward across the coastal road toward Libya. This was not a march to battle – he had left his army behind and was accompanied by little more than his close friends and local guides. This was a quest to better understand his destiny. He traveled along the coast until he reached Amunia, then he turned south, toward Siwa.’

Garcia grimaced in confusion as he entered the locations into his computer. ‘Hold up a second. This guy is the greatest conqueror the world has ever known, and yet he travels the long way to reach Siwa? Why would he do that?’

To illustrate his point, he put the map of Egypt back on the screen. First he drew a western line from Alexandria to Amunia – modern-day Mersa Matruh – then continued with a southern line to Siwa. ‘I mean, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, right? So why travel two sides of the triangle when he could just cut diagonally across the desert?’

McNutt rolled his eyes. ‘Let me ask you a question. Have you ever schlepped across a desert? And before you answer, sneaking across the US border
doesn’t
count.’

Garcia shook his head. ‘No, but—’

‘Well I have. More than I care to remember. And if you’re walking the wrong way in the Sahara, it’s brutal. Traveling north and south is fine, but trying to go east or west is a royal pain in the ass. It’s just an endless cycle of climbing up the face of a dune, then tumbling down the other side. Up. Then down. It’s a fucking grind.’

Manjani agreed with McNutt’s assessment. ‘Imagine nearly three hundred miles of that same routine. I grant you that Alexander was already well traveled and understood the rigors of such a lengthy journey, but this would have amounted to a seemingly insurmountable challenge – even for him. The alternative, while longer, allowed the group to travel a level path between the dunes.’

‘Oh,’ Garcia replied sheepishly. ‘Well, then I guess that does make sense.’

Manjani started again. ‘He went south toward Siwa, seeking an audience with the renowned Oracle of Amun. The oracle was revered in Greece, where its edicts were widely known, and it is presumed that this reputation is what drove Alexander to visit the temple. It’s unclear as to what he was hoping to hear, only that he was determined to hear it. Many believe it wasn’t so much Alexander’s determination that brought him to the oasis, but that he was guided there by divine intervention.’

Papineau spoke up. ‘Dr Manjani is referring to a number of events that hindered Alexander’s trip to Siwa, and the miraculous ways in which he overcame these obstacles. First, the king ran out of water in the middle of the desert but was saved by a sudden, torrential downpour. It was followed by a sandstorm that disoriented his guides. Amazingly his life was spared when a pair of ravens descended from the sky to lead him in the right direction. Although some historians argue that it was snakes, not birds, that led him through the desert, the point of the fable remains the same: Alexander was meant to reach Siwa, even if it took a little help from the gods.’

Manjani nodded in agreement. ‘When he finally reached the oasis, Alexander was immediately taken to the Temple of the Oracle – a magnificent edifice built atop a natural acropolis that rose above the surrounding ground.’

Garcia flashed a picture of a crumbling ruin on the video screen. ‘We’ll have to take your word on it because the years haven’t exactly been kind to the temple.’

Manjani smiled. ‘Trust me, in the time of Alexander, the Temple of the Oracle would have been the focal point of the area. If there was one thing that drew people to Siwa, this was it. It would have been cared for above all other buildings, immaculately prepared for those who had traveled great distances to commune with the spirits.’

Cobb was familiar with the influence that these spirits could wield. Whether it was Joan of Arc leading the French army into battle or Kevin Costner building a baseball field in Iowa, there were plenty of people willing to do irrational things when asked by a higher power. Given what Alexander had already accomplished, Cobb wondered what message was possibly worth the journey for the Macedonian king.

‘What did the oracle tell him that was so important?’

Manjani smiled. ‘Alexander learned that he was a god.’

Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘How can you just become a god? I mean, not to sound metaphysical, but isn’t that something you’re born into? As in, you need to have a deity somewhere in your family tree.’

Manjani nodded. ‘You do, and he did – if his mother is to be believed. From the time of his birth, Alexander’s mother, Olympias, maintained that he was not the son of King Philip the Second. She claimed that he had been sired by a god in the form of a serpent. Alexander took her word on it and began living his life in accordance with his divine lineage, even though he harbored many doubts. But those doubts were erased on his trip to Siwa.’