Sphinx (18 page)

“What about his mummy?” asked Erica.

Dr. Fakhry handed Erica's letters back to her. The tremor increased as he extended his arm. “Yes, we do have his mummy. It was part of the Deir el-Bahri cache illicitly found and plundered by the Rasul family. It is on display upstairs.” He glanced at Richard, who smiled again.

“Was the mummy ever closely examined?” asked Erica.

“Indeed,” said Dr. Fakhry. “It was autopsied.”

“Autopsied?” asked Richard with disbelief. “How do you autopsy a mummy?”

Erica grasped Richard's arm above the elbow. He got the message and remained silent. Dr. Fakhry continued as if he had not heard the query. “And it was recently X-rayed by an American team. I will gladly have all the material made available to you in our library.” Dr. Fakhry got to his feet and opened the office door. He walked partially bent over, giving the impression of a hunchback with his hands curled at his sides.

“One other request,” said Erica. “Do you have much material on the opening of Tutankhamen's tomb?”

Richard passed Erica and checked out the secretary with a sly sideways glance. She was busy leaning over her typewriter.

“Ah, there we can help you,” said Dr. Fakhry as they emerged in the marbled hall. “As you know, we are planning to use some of the funds generated by the world
tour of the ‘Treasures of Tutankhamen' to build a special museum to house his artifacts. We now have a full set of Carter's notes from what he called his ‘Journal of Entry' on microfilm, as well as a significant collection of correspondence among Carter, Carnarvon, and others associated with the discovery of the tomb.”

Dr. Fakhry deposited Erica and Richard in the hands of a silent young man whom he introduced as Talat. Talat listened carefully to the doctor's complicated instructions, then bowed and disappeared through a side door.

“He will bring the material we have on Seti I,” said Dr. Fakhry. “Thank you for coming in, and if I can be of further assistance, please let me know.” He shook hands with Erica, keying off an involuntary facial spasm that pulled his mouth into a sneer. He left, his hands drawn up and his fingers rhythmically clutching at nothing.

“God, what a place,” said Richard when the curator had left. “Charming fellow.”

“Dr. Fakhry happens to have done some fine work. His specialty is ancient Egyptian religion, funerary practices, and mummification methods.”

“Mummification methods! I could have guessed. I know a big church in Paris who'd hire him in a minute.”

“Try to be serious, Richard,” said Erica, smiling despite herself.

They took seats at one of the long battered oak tables that dotted the large room. Everything was covered with a fine layer of Cairo dust. Tiny footprints crossed the floor beneath Erica's chair. Richard told her it had been a rat.

Talat brought back two large red paper envelopes, each tied with a string. He gave them to Richard, who smiled scornfully and gave them to Erica. The first was marked “Seti I, A.” Erica opened it and spread the contents on the table. They were reprints of articles about the pharaoh. A number of them were in French, a couple in German, but most were in English.

“Pssst.” Talat touched Richard's arm.

Richard turned, surprised at the noise.

“You want scarabs from the ancient mummies. Very cheap.” Talat extended a closed hand, palm up. While he glanced over his shoulder like a pornography peddler in the fifties, his fingers slowly opened to reveal two slightly damp scarabs.

“Is this guy serious?” asked Richard. “He wants to sell some scarabs.”

“Undoubtedly they are fake,” said Erica, not pausing from her work to look up.

Richard picked one of the scarabs from Talat's open palm.

“One pound,” said Talat. He was getting nervous.

“Erica, take a look at this. It's a good-looking little scarab. This guy's got balls, carrying on business here.”

“Richard, you can buy scarabs all over the place. Maybe you should wander around the museum while I get this work done.” She looked up at him to see how he'd taken her suggestion, but he wasn't listening. He'd taken the other scarab from Talat.

“Richard,” said Erica, “don't get fooled by the first peddler you meet. Let me see one.” She took one of the artifacts and turned it over to read the hieroglyphics on the underside. “My God,” she said.

“Do you think it's real?” queried Richard.

“No, it's not real, but it's a clever fake. Too clever. It has the cartouche of Tutankhamen. I think I know who made it. Abdul Hamdi's son. Amazing.”

Erica bought the scarab from Talat for twenty-five piasters and then sent the boy away. “I already have one made by Hamdi's son with Seti I's name on it.” Erica made a mental note to get the fake scarab back from Yvon. “I wonder what other pharaohs' names he uses.”

On Erica's insistence they went back to the articles. Richard picked up several reprints. There was silence for a half-hour. “This is the driest stuff I've ever read,” said Richard finally, tossing an article onto the table. “And I thought that pathology was dull. God.”

“It has to be put into context,” said Erica condescendingly. “What you're looking at are bits and pieces that
are being assembled about a powerful person who lived three thousand years ago.”

“Well, if there was a little more action in these articles, it would be a lot easier.” Richard laughed.

“Seti I reigned soon after the pharaoh who tried to change the Egyptian religion to monotheism,” Erica said, ignoring Richard's comment. “His name was Akhenaten. The country had been plunged into chaos. Seti changed that. He was a strong ruler who managed to restore stability at home and through most of the empire. He assumed power around age thirty and ruled for approximately fifteen years. Except for some of his battles in Palestine and Libya, very few details are known about him, which is unfortunate, because he reigned during a very interesting time in Egyptian history. I'm talking about a period a little over fifty years long, from Akhenaten through Seti I. It must have been a fascinating era, full of turmoil, upheaval, and emotion. It's just so frustrating that we don't know more.” Erica tapped the stacks of reprints. “It was during that time that Tutankhamen ruled. And strangely enough, there was one huge disappointment in the discovery of Tutankhamen's magnificent tomb. Despite all the treasures that were found, there were no historical documents. Not a single papyrus was found! Not one!”

Richard shrugged.

Erica realized he was trying, but he couldn't share her excitement. She turned back to the table. “Let's see what's in the other folder,” she said, and slid the contents of “Seti I, B,” onto the table.

Richard perked up. There were dozens of photographs of the mummy of Seti I, including photos of X rays, a modified autopsy report, and several more reprinted articles.

“God,” said Richard, feigning a horrified expression. He picked up a photo of the face of Seti I. “This looks as bad as my cadaver in first-year anatomy.”

“It does horrify at first, but the longer you look at it, the more serene it seems.”

“Come on, Erica, it looks like a ghoul. Serene? Give
me a break.” Richard picked up the autopsy report and started reading.

Erica found a full-body X ray. It looked like a Halloween skeleton with the arms crossed on the chest. But she studied it just the same. Suddenly she realized that something was strange. The arms were crossed, like all the mummies of the pharaohs, but the hands were open, not clenched. The fingers were extended. The other pharaohs had all been buried clutching the flail and the scepter, the insignia of office. But not Seti I. Erica tried to understand why.

“This is not an autopsy,” said Richard, interrupting her thoughts. “I mean, they had no internal organs. Just a shell of a body. When a post is done, the shell is only cursorily examined, unless there is some specific indication. The autopsy is really the microscopic examination of the internal organs. Here all they did was take a little bit of muscle and skin.” He took the X-ray photo from Erica and held it at arm's length to examine it. “Lungs are clear,” said Richard, laughing. Erica didn't get it, so Richard explained that since the lungs had been removed in antiquity, the X ray showed the chest clear. It didn't sound so funny when he explained, and his laughter trailed off. Erica looked over Richard's arm at the photo. Seti I's open hands still bothered her. Something told her they were significant.

 

There were two printed cards in the large glass case. To pass the time Khalifa bent down to read them. One card was old and said: “Gold Throne of Tutankhamen, circa 1355 B.C.” The other card was new and said: “Temporarily Removed as Part of World Tour of Tutankhamen's Treasures.” From where Khalifa was standing, he had a full view of Erica and Richard through the empty display case. Normally he would never approach a quarry so closely, but he was now intrigued. He'd never been on such an assignment. The day before, he'd felt that he saved Erica from certain destruction, only to be lambasted by Yvon de Margeau. De Margeau had told him he'd nailed a measly civil servant. But Khalifa knew
better. The civil servant had been stalking Erica, and there was something about this fresh American woman that intrigued Khalifa. He sensed big money. If de Margeau had been as mad as he sounded, he would have fired him. But he'd kept him on the two-hundred-dollar-a-day payroll and stashed him at the Scheherazade Hotel. And now there was a new development that complicated the scene: a boyfriend named Richard. Khalifa knew that the boyfriend did not please Yvon, although the Frenchman had told him he did not believe Richard was a threat to Erica. But Yvon did tell Khalifa to be on guard, and Khalifa wondered if he should take it upon himself to get rid of Richard.

As Erica and Richard moved to the next exhibit, Khalifa stepped behind another empty case with a “Temporarily removed . . .” card. Hiding behind his open guidebook, he tried to catch the conversation. All he got was something about the wealth of one of the great pharaohs. But that also sounded like money talk to Khalifa, and he pressed closer. He liked the feeling of excitement and danger the proximity afforded, even though it was only imaginary danger. There was no way these people were an actual threat to him. He could kill them both in two seconds. In fact, the idea turned him on.

“Most of the really exquisite pieces are on exhibit in New York,” said Erica, “but look at that pendant there.” She pointed, and Richard yawned. “All this was buried with insignificant Tutankhamen. Try to imagine what was buried with Seti I.”

“I can't,” said Richard, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

Erica looked up, sensing his boredom. “Okay,” she said consolingly. “You've been pretty good. Let's head back to the hotel for a bite of lunch and see if I've gotten any messages. Then we'll walk into the bazaar.”

Khalifa watched Erica walk away, enjoying the tight curve of her jeans. His thoughts of violence merged with others more intimate and salacious.

* * *

There was a message and a number for Erica to call when they got back to the hotel. There was also a vacant room available for Richard. He hesitated and gave Erica a pleading look before going over to the registration desk to make the arrangements. Erica retired to one of the pay telephones but had no luck with the complicated machine. She told Richard that she'd make her call from her room.

The message had been simple. “I would like the pleasure of seeing you at your earliest convenience. Stephanos Markoulis.” Erica shivered at the prospect of meeting with someone actually involved in the black market and possibly a murder. But he had sold the first Seti I statue and he could be important if she wanted to find its mate. She remembered Yvon's admonition to choose a public place, and for the first time she was actually glad that Richard was with her.

The hotel operator was infinitely more capable than the mechanical device in the lobby. The call went through quickly. “Hello, hello.” Stephanos' voice had a commanding quality.

“This is Erica Baron.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for calling. I am looking forward to meeting you. We have a mutual friend, Yvon de Margeau. Charming fellow. I believe he told you that I would call and that I'd like to get together for a chat. Can we meet this afternoon, say, around two-thirty?”

“Where do you have in mind?” said Erica, mindful of Yvon's warning. She heard a deep rumbling sound in the distance.

“It's up to you, dear,” said Stephanos, speaking louder over the background noise.

Erica bristled at the familiarity of the word. “I don't know,” she said, looking at her watch. It was eleven-thirty. Richard and she would probably be in the bazaar at two-thirty.

“How about right there in the Hilton?” suggested Stephanos.

“I will be in the Khan el Khalili bazaar this afternoon,” said Erica. She thought about mentioning
Richard, but she decided against it. It seemed a good idea to retain some element of surprise.

“Just a minute,” said Stephanos. Erica could hear a muffled conversation. Stephanos had put his hand over the receiver. “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said in a voice that conveyed he was not sorry. “Do you know the Al Azhar mosque next to the Khan el Khalili?”