Four Ways to Pharaoh Khufu (20 page)

Chapter 29

Belorusskaya Railway station, Moscow, Russia

Saturday, September 23

9:30 a.m.

I
t was half past nine o’clock in the morning as the Hannover HBF–Moscow passenger train #447 approached Moscow’s Belorusskaya Railway Station.

“We are now approaching our final destination, the Belorusskaya Railway station in Moscow, the capital of Russia. Please remain seated until we come to a complete stop,” the pleasant female voice announced first in German, then in English. Completely ignoring the announcement, most of the passengers were already standing up and crowding the aisles in anticipation, eagerly gawking out the windows.

The train pulled slowly into the station. When doors opened the passengers poured onto the platform into the massive human pool with everyone swimming to the exits.

After experiencing ‘hurry up and wait’ throughout his military career, Michael encouraged Anna to take her time getting packed while the masses in front of them squeezed through the doors one at a time. At long last it was time to leave the train, and Michael was jumping onto the platform.

“Finally,” he declared, taking a deep breath of Moscow’s morning air. He reached up to help Anna.

“Yes, finally,” she repeated happily as they were carried away by the enormous, noisy crowd.

Although it was late September, the weather in Moscow was unusually warm and pleasant. As they bumped their way to the exit, Michael and Anna attempted to stay together. In reality, this was a difficult task as passengers were hauling loads of luggage, bags, strollers, carpets and boxes.

There was more room to walk when they got outside. Anna made her way over to an empty bench and collapsed. “That was a real nightmare! Can you believe it?” The Belorusskaya Railway terminal loomed behind her, an enormous mint-green building with gothic towers. As Russia’s second largest railway station, the Belorusskaya has seen a lot of history over the years. Its grand opening was in 1870, the same year Vladimir Lenin, the leader of the 1917 Russian revolution, was born. During World War II the first military trains headed to the front lines departed from this station in 1941.

“Well, we need to find Kirilov,” Anna remarked as she tried catching her breath. “So let’s find our hotel, get changed and track down his apartment.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” said Michael, getting up to flag down one of the taxis passing nearby. Moments later one came to a stop next to them. “Do you speak English?” Michael asked as he and Anna climbed inside.

The driver, wearing an oversized Kangol wool cap and a long mustache shook his head. He pointed to a small flag hanging from his rearview mirror. It was a white rectangle divided into four parts by a large red cross. In each of the four white spaces was a smaller red cross.
Georgia
was emblazoned across the front.

“Oh,” Michael looked over at Anna doubtfully. “He doesn’t speak English? And he is from Georgia?”

“Obviously, not the Georgia that you know,” chuckled Anna, “He is from the former Soviet republic of Georgia. It is now a sovereign state in the Caucasus region of Eurasia.”

Michael looked over at Anna grinning, “I should’ve known it would be complicated.”

As it turned out, Georgia’s unwritten rules require Georgian men to wear what is considered the national regalia of a
real
Georgian man: a
Kangol
-style classic wool ivy cap, an impressive mustache and a traditional Georgian dagger. It is believed that the bigger the size of his Georgian cap, the straighter and blacker the mustache, and the sharper the knife, the more respectful and honorable a man is considered among his people.

“Deutsch?” Anna asked hopefully. But the cabbie threw his arms up in surrender.

Michael glanced at Anna with visible frustration. “We gotta find another taxi,” he said opening the door and starting to get out of the cab.

“Not so fast,” Anna laughed, grabbing Michael’s arm and pulling him back inside. She held up her iPhone. “I knew this app would be useful one day,” she said, showing him the screen.

Michael looked at it curiously, “OK, let’s see what happens.”

Anna typed, ‘Hello, our names are Michael and Anna, what’s your name?’ She pressed a button. In a metallic voice, the iPhone translated her words into Russian. Anna and Michael froze in anticipation, looking hopefully at the driver. The driver grinned broadly and nodded, uttering, “Vahtang,” and pointed to his chest.

“That’s amazing!” Michael exclaimed.

Anna’s face was lit up like a kid at Christmas. She typed in the name of the hotel and street name. The cabbie nodded. Next, she typed and asked how long it will take to get there. The moment the voice uttered the Russian words; he nodded again and started looking for something. He found a piece of paper and with a pencil wrote ‘20’ on it. Anna squealed in delight.

The driver flashed another one of his grins. “Hotel,” he said happily in heavily accented English. A fresh September wind blew into the half-open windows of the taxi as they sped off into Moscow’s traffic.

Founded in 1147, Moscow is the capital of Russia and Europe’s largest city with 11.5 million people, the seventh largest city in the world. Nowhere are Russia's contrasts more apparent than in Moscow: antique pre-revolutionary monasteries, soviet era government buildings, one-size-fits-all residential complexes and avant-garde megaliths that stand side-by-side. New Russian millionaires and poverty-stricken seniors share the same streets. For those who live in Moscow the city brings about contradictory feelings: from loving devotion to extreme aversion. People either love Moscow or hate it, thus leaving nobody indifferent to this magnificent and ancient city filled with traditions. It does not matter whether it is your first time visiting or if you are a native; Moscow is a multifaceted, diverse and incomprehensible city that is rapidly changing beyond recognition.

In the post-World War II era, the Soviet Union’s Premier, Joseph Stalin, ordered seven huge, tiered neoclassic towers to be built around the city. One of them was placed at Moscow State University. This thirty-six-story tower is by far the largest of the seven and can be observed from miles away. At the time of its construction it was the tallest building in the world, outside of New York City, and remained the tallest building in Europe until 1990. Michael was thrilled when he got a glimpse of the historical tower. As they followed the ebb and flow of traffic, however, it disappeared from view.

The driver suddenly shouted, bringing them back to windows of the cab. With the driver smiling and pointing, they drove past the mammoth Red Square, dominated by the Kremlin and the extravagantly colored domes of St. Basil's Cathedral. Michael and Anna were mesmerized by the breath-taking view. The Kremlin, the residence of the Russian rulers, was one of the finest architectural works in the world. The first of its walls were built back in the twelfth century.

The cab pulled over in front of a high-rise building. “Looks like a nice place,” said Michael. As they walked inside the grand entrance, the cab sped away, the driver proudly holding a crisp new 20 EUR banknote.

“This hotel is beautiful,” Michael commented as he walked inside the building rolling both his duffel bag and a piece of Anna’s luggage.

“Hello, welcome to Holiday Inn Suschevskiy!” Exclaimed the lady at the front desk. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure,” Anna replied.

“I can recommend you visit
GUM
, our supreme department store. Also if you need any tickets to any Moscow’s concerts, ballets and shows just let me know.”

“Thank you.”

After checking in, Michael and Anna took the elevator to the fifth floor to their room. Anna decided she needed to freshen up properly and change her clothes, so she excused herself and went into the bathroom. Michael unpacked his duffel bag, setting aside his toiletry bag and a set of clean clothes for after his shower.

He went to the window and found that it faced so many buildings he was unable to see past them. He spent a few minutes watching the Russian traffic and people. After a while, he sat on the sofa and started slowly flipping through the TV channels. He clicked through channel after channel hearing only Russian, but just as he was about to turn the TV off, his ears heard the beautiful sound of the English language. Strangely enough, it was one of his favorite movies,
The Mummy
, accompanied by captioning in Russian. It was at the part where the two main characters, Evelyn and O’Connell were inside the Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead. They had just found the ancient sarcophagus with the mummy of the high priest, Imhotep. Carved inside the sarcophagus were the ominous words, ‘Death is only the beginnin
g.’

Michael had watched that movie many times, but that phrase suddenly made him realize something. He started thinking about Pharaoh Khufu’s soul trapped within his sarcophagus, waiting impatiently to get out. The reincarnated mummy in the movie was looking to exact revenge on everybody who disturbed his peace: definitely not a pleasant fate to experience. Michael mused that he and Anna were getting closer to solving one of the greatest mysteries of the Great Pyramid, which meant they would have to disturb Pharaoh Khufu’s final resting place. Perhaps the ending result might not be a pleasant one for both of them. After all, at least one person was already dead and now the Medjay and his accomplice were hunting them down.

“Michael!”

Startled and roused from his thoughts, Michael turned and looked up at Anna.

“I think I know what you’re thinking,” she said quietly.

Michael looked at her steadfastly, not breathing.

“I’ve watched this movie before. I’ve heard the stories of the Pharaohs’ curses that started when Howard Carter discovered the tomb of Tutankhamun. Most of the people in his crew died unnaturally either from diseases contracted by a mysterious illnesses or by accidents surrounded by strange circumstances.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he nodded solemnly. “Aren’t we exposing ourselves to a greater risk by trying to uncover the Great Pyramid’s secrets that have been hidden for ages?” He paused, and then continued slowly, “and maybe these secrets should be remained hidden. I mean, after all, your father died inside the Great Pyramid, which most definitely is cursed. In addition, you were kidnapped in Germany, and it’s a miracle that you escaped unharmed from those thugs.”

“Michael, I understand you are worried. I’m worried. But, if you are afraid of some ancient curses, consider this: Howard Carter died in 1939 at the age of 64 of natural causes, some seventeen years after discovering the tomb, despite being in charge of the expedition.”

“Wow, how do you know that?” he asked in amazement.

“When I was growing up, my father told me many stories about the ancient Egyptians,” she replied. “Many of his stories and fairytales I have forgotten, but some I still remember. The saga of Tutankhamun, the boy king, was certainly one of my favorites. So, to put your mind at ease and consider this,” Anna sat on the couch next to him, “Howard Carter’s natural death is the great confirmation that contradicts the idea of a so-called
curse of the pharaohs
that might have plagued his expedition.”

Michael remained quiet. “I hope you right, Anna,” he finally whispered.

“I know I’m right! Come on, look around,” Anna got up and approached the window “here we are in the twenty-first century, for goodness sake. There is little room for superstitions.”

“OK, ok,” Michael got up and approached the window, “you’ve convinced me. It’s just the events of the past several days combined with the scenes from that movie.” His voice trailed off as they both looked at the TV screen where O’Connell was defeating the evil Imhotep by forcing him into the River of Death.

“You know,” said Anna grinning, “In every fairytale, good always defeats evil.”

“Yeah,” Michael chuckled, “that’s why they are called fairytales.”

Anna laughed, “I think it’s time for you to hit the shower.”

“Right,” Michael replied as he headed to the bathroom with his things. The bathroom was clean, neat and stacked with toiletries. Even though the shower was equipped with a German-made showerhead, Michael got no more than lukewarm water. After only about ten minutes he gave up on getting a hot shower. It felt good to get clean, though.

Soon they were downstairs walking into the restaurant. Once inside, they greeted the hostess in English, hoping she spoke English as well. They were delighted when the young lady, wearing thick glasses and sporting a black-haired ponytail, responded to them in English. Then, she asked them politely whether they had ordered their lunch that morning. Michael and Anna glanced at each other in astonishment.

“I’m sorry,” said Michael, amazed, but hoping the hostess had misspoken. “Did I hear you correctly?”

To their surprise the hostess had stated her request correctly. They soon found out that in order to get lunch, the restaurant’s patrons had to order it during their breakfast. In fact, to get dinner they needed to order it during lunchtime. The hostess was surprised that they were surprised.

“You should have ordered lunch in the morning,” the hostess informed them with a tone of strong disapproval as she attempted to impress on them how ridiculous it was to expect a lunch without ordering it in advance. It was only after a lengthy discussion, one which eventually involved the manager of the hotel, that the wait staff understood that neither Michael nor Anna could have ordered lunch in advance simply because they had just arrived to the hotel a mere one hour before.

Michael watched in amazement as the manager used some forcibly spoken words in Russian that quickly persuaded the cooking staff of the restaurant to serve his desirable foreign hotel guests. The Russian chefs had no choice but to fix a simple meal from supplies taken straight out of the refrigerator. Soon Michael and Anna were enjoying chicken sandwiches made in record time. Anna thought that if the representatives from the world famous Guinness Book of World Records were present they would have witnessed a new record in sandwich making history.