Will Adams - The Alexander Cipher

"Maybe he's in there with her, too," muttered Mohammed. "They seem pretty crowded, these tombs."

"That's because there were so many people in Alexandria, and not enough space. Some estimates say that a million people lived here in ancient times. Have you seen the necropolis at Gabbari?"

"No."

"It's huge. A true city of the dead. And there's Shatby and Sidi Gabr, too. But still they weren't enough. Particularly after Christianity became popular."

Mohammed frowned. "Why so?"

"Before the Christians, many Alexandrians opted for cremation," he explained. "See these niches in the walls? They're designed for urns and caskets. But Christians believed in resurrection, you know. They needed their bodies."

"This is a Christian necropolis, then?"

"It's an Alexandrian necropolis," answered Ibrahim. "You'll find believers in the Egyptian gods, the Greek gods, the Roman gods, Jews, Christians, Buddhists-every religion on earth."

"And what happens to them now?"

Ibrahim nodded. "We'll study them. We can learn a great deal about diet, health, mortality rates, ethnic mix, cultural practices. Many other things."

"You'll treat them with respect?"

"Of course, my friend. Of course."

They went back out, into another chamber. "What's this?" asked Augustin, pointing his flashlight through a hole in the wall to a short flight of steps disappearing down into the dark.

"I don't know," shrugged Mohammed. "I didn't see it before."

Ibrahim had to duck low to get beneath, and Mohammed had to go on his hands and knees. Inside was what appeared to be the tomb of a wealthy family, separated by a line of carved pillars and pilasters into two adjoining spaces. Five stone sarcophagi of different sizes stood against the walls, all decorated with a rich confusion of styles and faiths. A portrait of Dionysus was carved into the limestone above depictions of Apis, Anubis, and a solar disk. Stone recesses above each of the sarcophagi held Canopic jars, perhaps still containing their original contents: the stomach, liver, intestines, and lungs of the deceased. Other objects glittered on the floor: fragments of funerary lamps and amphorae, scarabs, small items of silver and bronze jewelry studded with dulled stones. "Marvelous," murmured Augustin. "How can the robbers have missed these?"

"Perhaps the door was concealed," suggested Ibrahim, kicking at the rubble. "An earthquake, or just the passage of time."

"How old?" asked Mohammed.

Ibrahim glanced at Augustin. "First century AD?" he suggested. "Maybe second."

They came at last to the level of the water table. Steps disappeared tantalizingly down into it, hinting at more chambers beneath. The water had risen and fallen dramatically over the centuries; if they were lucky, it might have prevented the robbers from looting whatever lay beneath. Augustin stooped and made ripples with his hand. "Do we have the budget for a pump?" he asked.

Ibrahim shrugged. Pumping was expensive, noisy, dirty, and all too often completely ineffective. It would also mean running a fat pipe along the passage and up the stairwell, which would get in the way of the main excavation. "If we must."

"If you want me to explore first, I'll need a buddy. These places are death traps."

Ibrahim nodded. "Whatever you wish. I leave it up to you."

Nessim was driving through Suez when his cell phone rang. "Yes?" he asked.

A man's voice. "It's me."

Nessim didn't recognize his caller, but he knew better than to ask. He'd contacted a great many people last night, and few of them were keen on having their connection with Hassan known. Cell phones were notoriously vulnerable; you had to assume you were being monitored at all times. "What have you got?"

"Your man has a file."

Ah! So the Egyptian Security Service had a file on Knox. Intriguing. "And?"

"Not over the phone."

"I'm on my way to Cairo now. Same arrangement as last time?"

"Six o'clock," the man agreed. And the phone went dead.

Knox was still standing out on Augustin's balcony, expecting at any moment that the glass doors would be pushed open and the intruder would step out. Only now did he realize what a death trap this apartment was. The fire escape, elevator, and main stairs were all outside the front door. Other than that… There weren't any other balconies to leap onto, or any ledge to inch along. He gripped the rail tight and leaned out to look six stories down to the unyielding concrete of the parking lot. He could conceivably drop down to the balcony directly beneath his own, but if he mistimed his release… His toes went numb just thinking about it.

Inside Augustin's apartment, the coughing was growing worse. A strange intruder to break into an apartment only to stand there hacking away. He risked a quick glance through the glass doors but saw nothing to alarm him. Another cough, then some hissing, and finally he understood. He went back in, shaking his head at his paranoia, to find Augustin's percolator spluttering out the last few drops of coffee. He poured himself a cup and toasted himself mockingly in the mirror. He wasn't good at this kind of thing, not least because he found confinement hard to bear. Already he could feel a kind of cabin fever building, a slight cramping in his upper arms and the backs of his calves. He longed to take a brisk walk, burn off some nervous energy, but he dare not show his face outside. Hassan's men would surely already be showing his photograph at train stations, hotels, and taxi companies, scouring parking lots for his Jeep. Knox knew he needed to lie low. But still…

Augustin had rushed off first thing to inspect some newly discovered antiquity. By Christ, he wished he were down there with him.

Ibrahim felt deeply apprehensive as he, Mohammed, and Elena ascended the spiral stairs back into daylight. He had to make a report to Nicolas Dragoumis, and he was all too aware that more than his excavation funds rested on the outcome; Mohammed's hopes for his poor daughter did, too. He squeezed the big man's forearm to reassure him as best he could, then walked a little way off and dialed the Dragoumis Group switchboard, gave his name and business, and was put on hold.

"Well?" demanded Nicolas, picking up.

"It's a fine site," said Ibrahim. "There are some wonderful-"

"You promised me a royal Macedonian tomb. Is it a royal Macedonian tomb or not?"

"I promised you something that looked like a royal tomb," said Ibrahim. "And it does. Unfortunately, it seems to be the tomb of a shield bearer, not a king or noble."

"A shield bearer?" sneered Nicolas. "You expect the Dragoumis Group to spend twenty thousand dollars on the tomb of a shield bearer?"

"The shield bearers were Alexander's elite," protested Ibrahim. "This man Akylos would have been-"

"What?" interrupted Nicolas. "What did you say his name was?"

"Akylos."

"Akylos? You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Is Elena there?"

"Yes."

"Put her on. Now! I want to speak to her."

Ibrahim shrugged and passed her his phone. She walked a little distance away and turned her back so he couldn't overhear. She spoke for a good minute before returning his phone. "You have your money," she said.

"I don't understand," said Ibrahim. "What's so special about this man Akylos?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do."

"Mr. Dragoumis wants to be kept fully informed."

"Of course. I'll call him myself whenever we-"

"Not by you. By me. He asks that I be given unrestricted access."

"No. I couldn't possibly agree to-"

"Mr. Dragoumis insists, I'm afraid."

"But those weren't our terms."

"They are now," said Elena. "If you want his continued support…"

Ibrahim glanced at Mohammed, twisting his hands as he waited. "Very well," he sighed. "I'm sure we can arrange something." He nodded at Mohammed to let him know he'd got his money. The big man closed his eyes and sagged in relief, then walked unsteadily to his office, no doubt to make phone calls of his own.