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That evening, Tahir slipped one of the guards a handful of Egyptian pounds and this man opened the gate in front of the Sphinx compound. Tahir thanked him, and he and Michael walked past the great cat, skirted the outer wall, and made their way up the causeway toward the pyramids.
Go quickly, the Sphinx whispered.
Tahir lengthened his stride and Michael hurried to keep up. He smiled, remembering how Anne had nicknamed Tahir “the old mountain goat” because they both had trouble keeping up with him in the south. Compared to recent events, those days seemed innocent and carefree. They would go south again, as soon as this business was finished. He wanted to see the sorrow in Anne’s eyes melt to the happiness he’d grown so attached to.
Tahir stopped next to a large culvert covered by a metal grate. He reached into his capacious pockets and produced an old-fashioned skeleton key.
“Down there?” Michael asked.
“If I can do it, so can you.” Tahir lowered himself over the edge and started to climb down, finding small niches in the limestone for his feet and hands.
Michael followed, making sure of each step before he took it. Once down, Tahir unlocked the grate. Each man grabbed an end and pulled. It was heavier than it looked, but after the second attempt, they propped it up against the wall they’d just come down. They sat on the edge to catch their breath.
After a minute, Tahir looked up. “Ready?” Without waiting for an answer, he eased himself over the edge.
Michael looked down into the dark pit. “Down there?” he asked again.
Tahir’s laughter echoed in the tunnel.
Edges of rocks jutted out here and there, making for good footholds. The two inched their way down the tunnel. Finally, the climb straight down turned into a slope and then flattened out. The passageway was similar in size to the ascending chamber in the Great Pyramid. Michael duck-walked his way forward, Tahir close behind. After two hundred yards or so, the tunnel turned again. Michael lay down to rest his cramped thighs.
Tahir sighed as he lowered himself to the ground. “I wish I were a teenager again.”
When Michael’s legs stopped burning, he crouched again. This time Tahir took the lead. The tunnel veered to the left, then dropped straight down again. Climbing down was almost a relief. At the bottom, they found themselves in a passageway about nine feet high and broad enough for the two of them to walk side by side.
“I remember that this passage branches off a few times.”
“I’ll have to trust you. I’ve lost all sense of direction,” Michael said.
They walked for a while in silence. At the first turnoff, Tahir paused, shining his flashlight on the limestone, then the floor. “Somebody’s been down here.”
The sand was marked by many footprints, some sandals, some the tread of boots or sneakers.
“Lots of somebodies,” Michael said.
They added the imprints of their own shoes. The tunnel turned twice and emptied them out into a large cavern. They walked forward and came to another tunnel that emptied into this space. Then a third.
“Can you find your way back?” Michael asked. His voice echoed eerily.
“Not to worry.” Tahir swept his light over the entire area. It widened farther down and they walked toward this space. Soon they came across a large granite box, the same shape but larger than the one in the King’s Chamber. No one was in sight and they relaxed their guard.
“What is it?” Michael asked.
“According to the Director of Antiquities, this was the tomb of Osiris.”
“The live special on television?”
“That’s the one.”
“So that’s where we are then. What do you think it was?”
“The ancients pumped water through these channels from the old Nile in the west, well over ten thousand years ago.” Tahir shone his light farther into the cavern. “Let’s go back.”
They retraced their steps and found their original tunnel.
“How do you keep from getting lost down here?” Michael asked.
“I got lost many times, but Tefnut always told me how to get out,” Tahir said. “But tonight, we’re under a deadline.”
Michael followed behind him for another five minutes, the light creating a yellow halo around Tahir. Soon they came across a right turn.
“Shall we?”
“I’m just following you,” Michael said.
They struck off into this new tunnel. It took two more turns to the right. Michael had a sense of height and stopped. “What’s up there?”
Tahir shined his flashlight and they saw a small opening high above their heads.
The tunnel took another turn and suddenly narrowed. Tahir got down on his hands and knees and crawled forward. About twenty feet in, he called back over his shoulder. “Rubble.”
Michael crawled back and waited.
Tahir emerged and stood up. He brushed the sand from his gallabiya. “Let’s hope it’s not behind that pile of rocks. We can’t move them with our bare hands.”
“Still,” Michael said, “it’s just what they’d do to block off the entrance.” Since his crystal had been taken, his natural optimism was completely gone. It was almost as if someone were using it against him.
Tahir grunted. “Let’s go back.”
They reached the main tunnel again, then walked in silence for a few more minutes. Michael heard the sound of running water. “Listen.”
Tahir paused. “They spent ten months pumping out that first chamber.”
“Are we going to have to swim?”
“I did when I came up from Sakkara, but probably not here.” Tahir chuckled. “Our director says these tunnels were swimming pools for the royal family.”
“Swimming pools? Around the tombs? What will they think of next?” Michael almost ran into Tahir, who was standing still in front of a tunnel that ran off to the left.
“Let’s try this one. Be alert. We don’t know who else may be crawling around down here tonight.”
“Okay,” Michael said and followed Tahir down a slightly narrower tunnel, otherwise identical to all the others they’d come through. The sound of flowing water grew louder and Michael smelled moisture in the air. The tunnel made another turn and there it was, an underground stream flowing in its own bed of evenly cut stones. The tunnel widened and they walked side by side, trying to hear any sound above the stream.
In another fifty yards, hieroglyphs appeared in the limestone. Michael stopped to read them out loud:
Out of nothingness I return.
From darkness arises the light.
The green grain stretches to the sun
And is cut down again.
All hail Osiris.
Farther in they found incised reliefs, first Osiris, which made sense based on the previous text, then Isis, of course. Next came Ptah and Sekhmet, and, finally, Horus and Hathor. Around the next corner, the tunnel gave way into an enormous cavern lit by electric lights. They stopped dead in their tracks.
A thrill ran through Michael. “This must be it,” he whispered.
Tahir nodded.
The sound of rushing water quieted to a trickle again. Looking off to his right, Michael saw the stream emptied into an underground lake. Just in front of the lake lay an enormous statue of Osiris.
☥☥☥
Around midnight, Anne waited in the shadows next to the Sphinx enclosure. She’d avoided attracting any attention from the villagers who were still up and about, but the cats pillaging the Dumpsters had spotted her. One brazen calico fawned at her feet. Checking the ground beneath her first, Anne settled into the dust and scratched the cat behind her ears. Arnold had insisted she carry a small handgun, an unaccustomed weight tucked in a holster in the small of her back. She knew both he and Bob were somewhere close by, but even the cats couldn’t find them.
Footsteps approached, and Anne sank deeper into the shadows. The lid of the far Dumpster squeaked as it was lifted and Anne heard the wet thud of a bag, kitchen garbage perhaps. The man didn’t bother to close the lid. Soon after he left came the softer thuds of cats jumping down to investigate this new offering. The calico, ignoring the possibility of more food, turned on her back, exposing her stomach. Anne took comfort in the cat’s rumbling purrs.
The next set of footsteps walked past the line of Dumpsters to the end and stopped. The cat ran. The streetlight illuminated Paul Marchant’s tall, thin form and Anne stood to show herself.
“You came,” he said simply.
“Of course. This is important.”
“I thought that with Thomas—” Marchant stopped, not knowing what to say.
“He would have wanted me to complete this mission.” Marchant nodded, awkward for some reason. “I’ve bribed the guards, so we should have no trouble.”
“Can I contribute?”
“Excuse me?”
She reached for her wallet.
“Oh, that’s okay, but thanks.”
Anne sensed something was wrong. Marchant was usually more self-absorbed, never this polite. She stepped out of the shadows and looked around. No one was in sight, but she knew this was an illusion. Arnold and Bob were close by. She only hoped Marchant hadn’t been trailed by the dead man who still left fingerprints. Or even worse, sold out to the people who’d hired him for the best safecracking job in fifty-two thousand years.
“This way.” Marchant walked back to the Sphinx enclosure to a small gate off to the left. A padlock hung on the latch, but he gave it quick tug and it came loose. He opened the gate and stood back for Anne to pass.
With a nod of thanks, Anne walked through and Marchant replaced the padlock with a click. They passed a group of buildings, now dark, then rounded a corner. A series of low hills to the right of the road obscured the view. Marchant skirted around them, staying close to the deeper shadows. He pointed toward the open desert on the left. “The sand is too loose,” he whispered.
For fifteen minutes, the only sound was the swish of sand beneath their feet. Finally, Marchant crouched down behind a small hill, gesturing for her to join him. Anne saw a dark patch in the sand ahead, but was uncertain if it was a shadow or a hidden structure. They watched in silence. Soon a man dressed in a dark gallabiya appeared from the shadow and walked toward them. So it was a tomb or set of stairs.
“The guards have taken a break,” the man whispered to Marchant.
Marchant slipped the man some baksheesh and the guide gestured for them to follow him. They ran across the clear space and the man climbed down.
Anne followed him down a worn stone stairway, Marchant right behind her. There was a turn to the right, then another set of stairs. Anne felt a growing sense of energy the deeper they went. One more set of stairs took them into what looked like an underground cave. A faint light glowed in the distance.
The guide stopped here. “The guards expect me to be here. I told them I was supposed to do some work tonight.”
“Thank you.” Marchant turned to Anne. “This way.”
She wondered briefly how Arnold and Bob would get in, but dismissed the thought. The guide was no match for them. She followed Marchant along a dusty path. A hint of dampness reached her nose. After about fifty yards, the natural cave walls gave way to limestone blocks. Anne’s fingers, lightly touching the wall, found incised reliefs. The light was brighter here, but not enough for her to see clearly. She shined her flashlight onto one of them and found Sekhmet looking back at her. She felt a surge of confidence.
“Turn it off,” Marchant whispered.
Anne did as he said, then followed behind him. They approached a turn and the light grew brighter. They rounded the corner and Anne stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, my God!” Before her stood an ancient temple that had been at ground level ages ago. Two small replicas of the Sphinx flanked broad limestone steps, eternally guarding an expansive plaza.
Marchant walked down the steps, hugging the side, and stopped by one of the Sphinxes. Anne followed. He crouched down behind the statue and looked around. “It’s clear,” he whispered.
They walked onto the plaza. Anne heard the trickle of water and, looking to her left, saw a lake. At the other end of the plaza, a series of columns held up a roof now covered from above by the sand of the Giza Plateau. An enormous statue lay on its side toward the back.
“This is beautiful,” Anne breathed.
“Yes,” Marchant said, but he didn’t give her any time to take it in. “This way.” He headed toward the right side of the plaza, following a path of footprints in the sand.
Anne heard a sound behind her and stopped. She turned to look out over the plaza. Nothing moved. Maybe Bob had made a misstep.
“What?” Marchant asked.
“Oh, it’s amazing, this place.”
“The entrance to the Hall is this way.” Marchant started to walk toward the far right side again.
Anne turned to follow him, but the sound of running feet on stone made her whirl around. Three men dressed all in black rushed toward her.
“No!” Marchant shouted. One of the men ran past Anne and kicked Marchant in the solar plexus, doubling him over. The man followed this with two fists like a sledgehammer to the back of his head. He fell and didn’t move again.
Anne didn’t wait for the two remaining men to attack her. She ran toward them, then crouched, coming up with a punch under the first man’s jaw. He staggered back, but regained his balance and kicked at her knee. She danced out of the way and reached back to pull her weapon, but the second man moved in with a punch to the head. She thought she heard someone scream her name, but she didn’t have time to look. She ducked under his arm, then swung back with a blow to the kidneys.
Now the third man joined them. Anne whirled and tried to push one man into the next, then kicked back as another came at her from behind. He avoided her kick and grabbed her, pinning her arms. She could hear someone running across the plaza. The other two came at her in front. She leaned against the one holding her and kicked the ones approaching. They fell back for an instant, long enough for her to break the third man’s hold and roll free. Anne pulled her gun as she came up, holding all three at bay.
“Arnold,” she screamed. “Bob. Where are you?”
She stood facing the plaza, the three men circling her. Something smashed into the back of her head and a galaxy exploded inside her eyelids as she fell.
☥☥☥
“Anne!” Michael sprang across the statue of Osiris, his body a blur across the plaza. Tahir was close behind him. She was putting up a good fight. He stretched out to reach her. A man ran from out from a hidden passageway and hit Anne on the back of the head. He picked her up and slung her across his shoulder.
Arnold materialized from nowhere, Bob right behind him, guns drawn. “Drop her,” Arnold shouted.
The man whirled and fired. He was quick, even carrying dead weight.
God, she better not be dead, Michael thought.
Arnold rolled and took careful aim, getting off one shot. The man fired again. Arnold grabbed his arm. His gun fell to the floor. Michael leapt for the man holding Anne, but he was grabbed from behind. He jerked around and landed a solid blow on one of the men. He heard more gunfire behind him and a horrible scream that ended abruptly. He turned to see Arnold and Tahir racing up the stairs after the four men, one still carrying Anne’s limp body. Bob lay on the plaza floor, a pool of blood growing under his head. Michael tore up the stone steps and around the corner, where he ran into Arnold and Tahir standing with their hands in the air.
A man pointed an assault rifle at him. “Hands up.” Six more men carrying assault weapons blocked the exit. “Don’t move,” the first man said. “I’m authorized to use terminal force.”
Arnold growled.
They were dressed in black uniforms with no insignia. The leader’s accent was American.
“That woman is an American citizen,” Michael said. “She’s being kidnapped.”
The man’s eyes had the same cold glint as the metal of his gun. Michael took a step forward.
The man stuck the rifle in his stomach. “I said don’t move.”
Michael stepped back. They all stood with their hands up listening to the receding footsteps. Michael thought he heard an engine start. Still they waited. After what seemed an eternity, the leader said, “Sit down with your backs to each other.”
Arnold sat against Michael. Tahir crouched near. “I said sit.” The man threatened to kick Tahir, who immediately sat all the way down. Two of the other men tied their hands behind their backs with plastic cord. “Feet together,” one commanded. They bound their ankles with the same cord.
The leader checked each of them. Apparently satisfied, he stood and said, “Move out.” The men turned and ran up the stairs.
“Quick,” Arnold said in a low voice to Michael, “in my pocket is a knife.”
Michael maneuvered himself around and tried several times to put one hand into Arnold’s pocket, but his bonds were too tight.
“Keep trying. Anne’s life depends on it.”
Michael pulled his hands apart, biting his lip as the cord cut into his flesh, but it stretched enough for him to reach into Arnold’s pocket. He felt something cold and flat and pulled it out. He placed it carefully into Arnold’s hand.
Arnold quickly cut himself free, then Michael and Tahir. “Go see about Bob,” he ordered. “I’ll track Anne.”
“But—” Michael began.
“No buts. Do as I say.” He disappeared up the stairs.
Michael and Tahir ran back down the stairs to Bob, who lay motionless. The pool of blood had grown alarmingly. Tahir leaned down and checked for a pulse, then shook his head. He closed Bob’s eyes. Paul Marchant was nowhere to be found.
“What should we do?”
“We have to carry him out. We can’t allow the authorities to find this place yet.”
Bob’s body was still warm and flexible. Michael took the dead man by the shoulders while Tahir carried his feet. Bringing him up the broad steps and through the passageway was relatively easy compared to carrying him up the narrow sets of stairs. By the time they had him lying on the desert sand, they were both panting and wet with sweat.
Michael pulled out his cell phone. “Do you know the number for the police?”
“We need to carry him away from the entrance.”
“But won’t the police know we’ve tampered with the evidence?”
Tahir patted him on the shoulder. “Leave that part to me.”
They hefted Bob once more and carried him across the sand and around two hills. Finally, Tahir was satisfied. Michael handed Tahir his phone. He looked at it and handed it back. “You dial.” He gave Michael the number for the antiquities police. When it was ringing, Michael handed the phone to Tahir. He had a brusque conversation in Arabic that was too fast for Michael to follow.
Michael sat with his head in his hands, only now feeling the bruises from the blows his assailants had landed. He reached out with his mind for Anne, but received no impressions. She couldn’t be dead. The Illuminati needed them all alive. He kept telling himself that. He studied the face of Bob, this man who’d watched him with hooded eyes for the first part of the trip, then exchanged jocularities with him on the second half. The desert sky was ablaze with stars. He felt a surge of rage at the neutrality of the universe.
“They’re coming.” Tahir handed Michael the phone.
“When?”
Tahir shrugged. “When they get here.” He squatted on the sand.
“What’s our story?”
“I told them Anne was kidnapped and her bodyguards tried to stop it.”
“Well, that’s true, but what about the crime scene?”
“This is Egypt. The antiquities police already know what happened. Don’t worry.” Then Tahir moved closer to Bob and, closing his eyes, began a soft chant.
Michael closed his eyes and listened. The song unfolded beneath the desert stars like a soft flower and eased Michael’s heart somewhat. He wondered whom Bob had loved in his life, if he’d left behind a wife and children. His thoughts turned to Thomas, of the last-minute terror of the plane plummeting into the ocean. He remembered the last time he’d seen him, with Guy, in fact, discussing some minutiae about how the Rosicrucians had been connected to the Masons in the past.
Tahir stopped chanting.
Michael recited the Mourner’s Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead, one for Bob and another for Thomas. Then on impulse, he added a third for Cynthia. When he finished, he opened his eyes to see Tahir watching him. “Too many deaths,” he said.
“There is no death. We all go into the west.”
“But these weren’t natural deaths. They were murdered, all three of them.”
“Yes, still they have left their dream of separation and rejoined the great All in All.”
The sound of car engines reached them and they both stood. Two sets of headlights came toward them across the desert. As Tahir had predicted, the police asked perfunctory questions, put Bob’s body in the back of one of their white jeeps, and gave Tahir and Michael a ride back to the Mena House. The mu’adhdhin had just started the call to prayer when they walked into the lobby.
Now to find Anne. He would not sing the Mourner’s Kaddish for her. They went straight to her suites and knocked on Arnold’s door. A distinguished gentleman with steel-gray hair and wearing an ascot opened the door.
“Michael. And Tahir. Come in.”
Michael stepped into the room with Tahir close behind him. “And you are?”
“Roger Abernathy.” He shook hands with them.
Arnold came into the room, an ice pack tied to his arm. “Bob?”
“I’m afraid, bad news,” Michael said.
“The police have his body,” Tahir said.
Dr. Abernathy looked over at Arnold. “I’ll notify the office to make the necessary arrangements. We should take a moment to remember our fallen colleague, but we need to be sure the list of dead doesn’t grow. To the business at hand. I suppose there’s no use pointing out that you all disobeyed my direct order.”
“She insisted,” Michael said. “We had to find the entrance to the Hall of Records.”
Dr. Abernathy turned on Tahir, “And you didn’t know where it was?”
“Not exactly, no.”
“Why not?”
Tahir looked at his large hands for a moment, then up at his inquisitor. “My order went to great pains to hide the entrance. Egypt has suffered under many occupations and we’ve had to be in hiding since before the Greeks. Most Egyptians don’t even know we exist. We meet in caves. The exact location of the Hall of Records was lost.”
“You’ve had your whole life to find it.”
Tahir studied him. “Did you know when you were born that the prophecy would be fulfilled in your lifetime?”
Dr. Abernathy looked down. “No, you’re right. I apologize. It’s just— we’ve lost Thomas and Bob. Now Anne—”
“She isn’t lost,” Michael said forcefully. “They won’t kill a Keeper of one of the keys. They want to open the Hall as much as we do.”
“How can you be sure they haven’t opened it already?” Dr. Abernathy asked.
“My own experience, for one thing.” Michael described what had happened during his initiation in the Great Pyramid.
“So you’re saying Paul Marchant held back, that he could have opened this curtain if he’d wanted,” Dr. Abernathy said.
“Yes,” Michael continued. “Plus Anne told me Marchant was desperate to take her there. He said they had to get in before the Illuminati did. He was afraid they’d do irreparable damage and make our mission impossible. That’s another reason we thought she should go.”
“Bob and I were right behind her,” Arnold said, “but there were a dozen men waiting in ambush. We were delayed getting to her.”
“A dozen?” Michael did a double take.
“Do you think Marchant was in on it?” Dr. Abernathy asked.
“I don’t think so,” Michael said. “He sounded enraged when the men came running out. They attacked him, too.”
“But he was gone when we went down for Bob,” Tahir said.
“You witnessed the attack?” Dr. Abernathy’s tone was cold.
“We’d been crawling around tunnels for hours searching for the temple
I saw in my vision. We’d just emerged on the other side of the underground lake when we heard Marchant scream. I ran as fast as I could.” Michael smiled at Arnold. “She had three of them under control until that fourth guy snuck up behind her.” His shoulders fell. “I didn’t reach her in time.”
“So it wasn’t really necessary for her to go at all,” Dr. Abernathy said.
Arnold squared his shoulders. “What’s done is done. You can fire me later. What we need to do right now is work out a plan to get Anne back.”
“And Maria,” Tahir said. He explained this to Dr. Abernathy.
Dr. Abernathy looked around at everyone. “So this is the situation as it stands now. The Illuminati stole Michael’s crystal and kidnapped Maria and Anne. Marchant’s been working for them all along. That means they control three of the five crystals we know about. The sixth is still missing.”
“What was Thomas doing in Tibet, anyway?” Michael asked.
“Tracking down the last crystal. He found an obscure reference to one of Tiye’s relatives taking a key to wisdom back to the East. He met with a Rinpoche at the Samye Monastery outside Lhasa looking for information. This Rinpoche was going to do some research and get back to him the following day, but Thomas was arrested right after this meeting. We secured his release the next day through diplomatic channels, but they shot his plane down.” Dr. Abernathy’s voice caught. He paused, then continued. “The Rinpoche he spoke with is now missing.”
“So they may have him as well,” Michael said.
Dr. Abernathy steepled his fingers. “It’s within the realm of possibilities.”
“It’s a mistake to think the Illuminati control the crystals just because they have physical possession of them,” Tahir pointed out. “Your own experience makes this clear, Michael.”
Dr. Abernathy raised his eyes. “Make no mistake. The Illuminati are going to bring in their big guns now.”
“What are you talking about?” Michael asked.
“The man running the operation here is talented in espionage, not psychic work. That is why he couldn’t make your stone work. They’ll bring in their best for the alignment.”
“Who?” Michael asked.
Dr. Abernathy looked him square in the face. “Alexander Cagliostro.”
Michael blanched. “Does he really exist? I thought he was a myth used to scare apprentices.”
“Indeed he does exist, Michael.”
“Who is this man?” Tahir asked.
“The most powerful black magician the world has seen for some time. Now the head magician of the Illuminati. His family fled Italy a few centuries ago and masqueraded as English aristocrats under the name Ravenscroft. Cagliostro has since returned to his original family name.”
“How do you know him?” Michael asked.
Dr. Abernathy studied him for a moment. “He was my teacher.”
Michael sat in stunned silence. Then he asked, “My God, how did you escape his influence?”
“It’s a long story, better told another time.”
Michael nodded. “Tomorrow night the alignment begins. They’ll bring all the Keepers and the crystals to the room. We’ll meet them there.”
“You mean you’ll just walk into their hands?” Arnold looked from face to face.
“What else can we do?” Michael answered. “We need each Keeper working with his or her own crystal to open the Hall. Once we begin the ritual, the balance of power will shift. They can’t control what will happen then.”
“Cagliostro may change that,” Dr. Abernathy pointed out.
“He may, but is there any other choice?” Michael looked around the room.
“I agree with Michael,” Tahir said.
“I already met with the ambassador about this. Tomorrow morning I have an appointment with the president. I don’t think it will do much good.”
“The police aren’t going to make any progress against the international shadow government,” Arnold said.
“I know some men who work for them,” Tahir said.
“Good, go to them,” Dr. Abernathy said.