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Dahshur Complex, south of Cairo
THE BLACK PYRAMID at Darshur lay some twenty-five miles south of Cairo. To Crowley’s disappointment, it was mostly a pile of rubble. Named for its dark appearance as it devolved, it stood blocky against the lightly overcast sky, one side fallen into two large squares of ragged stone, the other a sloping scree of tumbled rocks. The pale sand and stone leading up to its base were warm under the occluded sun.
“Compared to the magnificent order of the pyramids at Giza right by Cairo, this is something of a disappointment,” Crowley said with a laugh.
Rose smiled. “Yeah, to say the least.” She had studied on the journey back, after their conversation had waned, and found the site fascinating despite its decrepitude.
The journey back from Siwa Oasis had been long and uneventful. They’d used some of the time to talk about Hamza and the stories he told. Neither could decide how much they believed, but they both agreed that it was clear Hamza himself believed every word of it.
“You know, The Black Pyramid was the first to house both the deceased pharaoh and his queens,” she said.
“That right?” Crowley flashed her a grin.
She frowned. “Well, if you’re not interested...”
He quickly raised his hands, eyes wide in apology. “No, no! I love your museum brain. Your smarts and your fighting skills are probably the most attract... amazing things about you.”
She gave him the benefit of looking away as the color rose in his cheeks. He had nearly said attractive and she couldn’t help being a bit pleased about that. He was attractive, too. She pushed the thoughts aside, again refusing to address the inconveniently, constantly present concerns of their friendship. Her sister came first, and whatever was happening with her.
She looked up at the imposing edifice instead and recited other facts she had recently learned. “It was built by King Amenemhat III during the Middle Kingdom of Egypt. Five remain of the original eleven pyramids here at Dahshur. The excavations were begun by Jacques de Morgan, on a French mission, in 1892. The German Archaeological Institute of Cairo completed excavation nearly a hundred years later, in 1983. Two nearby are among the oldest, largest and best-preserved pyramids in Egypt, built between 2613 and 2589 BCE. Can you even imagine that age?”
Crowley whistled between his teeth. “When it comes to ancient history, nothing comes close to Egypt.”
Rose paused, looking up at the imposing edifice of the Black Pyramid. “It’s a family affair,” she said, almost wistfully. “For all its age and size, these things come down to individuals.”
“No one person built these!” Crowley said.
“That’s not what I mean. Of course, hundreds or thousands of people were involved in actually building them, but the impetus came from individuals. The pyramids here were a learning experience for the Egyptians, because they were transitioning from step-sided to smooth-sided pyramids. During the reign of Pharaoh Sneferu, more than four and a half thousand years ago, the Bent Pyramid nearby was the first attempt to make one smooth-sided. Ultimately unsuccessful though. The design flaw was an unstable base made of desert gravel and clay that had a tendency to subside when a large amount of weight was put on top. And the blocks were cut in such a way that caused the weight of the pyramid to push down towards the center. That’s thought to be the reason the pyramid is ‘bent’. It changes angles about halfway up the sides.”
“I’m guessing old Sneferu wasn’t best pleased about that,” Crowley said drily.
Rose laughed. “Indeed not. So he built another, called the Red Pyramid because of the color it goes after it rains. That one was the first true smooth-sided pyramid. And that’s what I meant by a family affair. The Red Pyramid is huge, thought to be where Sneferu is buried, and the biggest of its kind until Sneferu's son, Khufu, built a bigger one. And Khufu’s is the Great Pyramid of Giza, the really famous one, which is 490 feet tall! But Khufu could only build that because of the knowledge gained by his father.” She smiled at Crowley. “Individuals, you see?”
Crowley pointed up at the crumbling mass of the Black Pyramid. “But this one was built much later, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, by five hundred or even a thousand years at best guess.”
“So why is it so crappy?”
Rose laughed. “Where’s your respect? This one was originally about seventy-five meters tall, much smaller than the Red or Giza, but typical for the Middle Kingdom. It was encased in limestone like the others, but made of mud brick and clay instead of stone.”
“Why?”
Rose shrugged. “Possibly to reduce weight as it’s so close to the Nile. But it began to sink, like the Bent Pyramid of Sneferu did. That’s about a kilometer and a half that way.” She pointed. “This one was abandoned after it started to crush the underground chambers. The builders tried to save it with supporting beams and mud brick walls to stop the sinking, but it was too little, too late.”
Crowley scanned the enormous ruin. “Amazing to consider, isn’t it. The panic, the process, all the hours of labor. Such mammoth undertakings.”
“And all so long ago. But we’re not really here for history, are we.” Rose looked about them. Small groups of tourists wandered nearby, but the area was not busy. She had hoped there would be people whom they could ask about Lily, archaeologists perhaps, but the lack of activity dented her optimism.
Crowley appeared to have read her mind. He pointed to a bus parked nearby and said, “What about that guy?”
The bus had a tour company logo emblazoned on its sides and the man Crowley pointed out stood on the step of the front door addressing a crowd gathered around. They moved closer to listen, smiled as the guide repeated a lot of what Rose had recently shared.
“So you weren’t making all that up,” Crowley whispered.
She swatted his shoulder, shook her head. “Hush!”
Crowley bowed his head slightly by way of apology. “But given that he clearly knows his stuff, perhaps he comes here regularly.”
“Would Lily join a tour?” Rose said.
“Maybe. But even if not, that doesn’t mean that fellow didn’t see her.”
The guide sent his tour group off with a wave. “You have one hour, then we move on to the Bent Pyramid,” he said, his voice accented, but with an American twang underneath.
Rose approached as his charges drifted away. “Excuse me?”
“Yes, madam?” The man was young, maybe early thirties at most, lean but fit-looking, with short black hair and deep brown eyes. He let his gaze roam quickly down and back up as Rose closed the distance between them.
She sighed internally; men were always so predictable. She noticed he wore a name badge that read, Kenny. “Do you tour here regularly?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid you can’t join halfway through. You need to book in Cairo...”
She held up a hand to interrupt. “No, no, that’s okay. I was wondering if you’d seen my sister.” She pulled the photo both she and Crowley carried, showed it to the guide.
Kenny stepped down, taking the photo for a closer look. He smiled. “I have seen her. And it’s no surprise you’re her sister, you’re very alike. Normally I wouldn’t remember, I see so many people day to day, tourists, you understand? But I like the Asian look.” He flashed an embarrassed glance at Rose. “No offense intended!”
She ignored the comment, glad he had recognized her sister. “Did you speak with her? Or see anything?”
“See anything?”
“She’s missing. I’m trying to find her.”
Kenny pursed his lips, made a sound of sympathy. “That’s no good. I didn’t talk to her, but I noticed her here two days running. That’s why I remember her, I think. She and another man were talking with Kasim, a tour guide from a different company. Kasim is short and fat, a greasy man with a thick mustache.”
“Sounds like you don’t like him,” Crowley observed.
The guide smiled crookedly. “He’s not so bad. But he works for the opposition. One of many competitors. You can ask for him at the Sacred Tours Company in Cairo. You’ll find him there.”
Rose felt a thrill of excitement ripple up, a new hope sparking into life. Another person who had dealt directly with Lily, more recently. Perhaps they were getting closer. And Lily had been with another man, apparently. Could that be the guy with the man-bun they had learned about before? They would need to find out who he was. “Thank you so much,” she said, shaking the guide’s hand.
Crowley moved forward slightly. “Incidentally, are you aware of any connections to Anubis in Dahshur.”
Kenny seemed to flinch slightly at the mention of the god’s name. “Anubis? Connections?”
“Statues, images, locations associated with him in this region?” Rose said.
“No. I hope you find your sister. I’m sorry, I have to...” He gestured over his shoulder at the bus and climbed back aboard without another word.
“That was a bit weird,” Rose said.
“Wasn’t it.”
“But did you notice something?”
Crowley smiled, nodding. “If you mean the way his eyes flitted to the Black Pyramid just now, then yes.”
She smiled back, pleased to be picking up tricks from Crowley when it came to reading people. “Shall we?”