Four Ways to Pharaoh Khufu Read online

  “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. “Hallo?”

  “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.

  After 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. Hi
s 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.

  Chapter 15

  Berlin, Germany

  Tuesday, September 19

  7:00 p.m.

  The doorbell rang loudly again, bringing Anna out of her reverie. Mystified, she quickly threw on some clothes as the doorbell sounded again. Anna jerked open the front door. On the threshold stood a pretty young woman of Middle Eastern descent. As an early autumn chill swirled into the apartment, Anna shivered, taking in the unknown woman’s appearance. She wore a blue silk dress and elegant dark blue sandals with high heels. On her shoulder hung an expensive white purse covered with lacquered leather. Her dark brown hair fell smoothly and stylishly across her large forehead, resting lightly on her shoulders. Beige sunglasses with tiny, multicolored rhinestones crowned her head. The woman put her hand on her hip, causing the multitude of silver bangle bracelets on her wrist to tinkle and clang. Her big brown eyes stared at Anna, cold an
d hard.

  “Hello, Anna,” she hissed in a low voice with a Middle Eastern accent. “I’m Layla, Seth’s wife.”

  Seth’s wife? Did she hear that correctly? “Excuse me?” Anna stuttered as the floor seemed to wave and sink beneath her. While she hesitated to find the right words, Layla immediately took advantage of the situation. Smirking, she put her foot in the door and pushed Anna aside, boldly entering the apartment.

  “Can I please come in?” Layla asked mockingly as she sauntered down the hallway. Glancing from side to side, her heels clicking on the wood floors, the newcomer seemed to be soaking in her surroundings.

  “Come… Ah…Go straight down the corridor…into the living room,” Anna stammered as she rapidly shut and locked the front door, hurrying to catch up to the intruder.

  Layla strode into the living room and sat theatrically in the loveseat across from the coffee table. When Anna arrived, Layla was stretching her long, perfectly toned legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles. Her dress came to her mid-thigh, its sky blue color underlining the golden tan of her skin. She glanced up at Anna as she pulled her beautiful handbag onto her lap.

  Layla expertly reached inside her purse and pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims cigarettes and a tiny gold lighter. “Allow me to smoke,” she stated, not even waiting for Anna’s permission as she lit up. Strangely enough, Anna recalled Virginia Slims were first introduced in the late 1960s and were marketed to the young, professional women of the time. She caught a whiff of the smoke, but bit back her response. When she recalled their infamous slogan, “You’ve come a long way, baby,” she decided it perfectly suited her unwanted visitor.