“Like hell it was! You peasant-types are all the same. You—”
“Peasants?” Abbas asked, standing impossibly tall. “We are peasants, now?”
Rahal’s face went white. “I…”
“Hey!” Everyone quieted and turned their attention to the only person kneeling. “I don’t care what happened between you two. We have a job to do, okay?”
Ghazzi nodded emphatically.
Rahal didn’t physically acknowledge Baahir, but nor did he hurl any other insults at Ghazzi.
Abbas glared at the agent for a moment longer before returning his attention to the artifact.
“Mr. Abbas,” Baahir said, holding out his phone, “if you would?”
Rahal’s eyes bounced back and forth from the Egyptologist to the foreman.
Baahir held up an apologetic hand. “Sorry, I can’t risk it getting wet.”
Rahal locked his jaw and crossed his arms, none too happy.
“Okay,” Baahir said, blowing out a long breath, “here we go.”
The chamber was blissfully silent as Baahir got to work. He ditched his thicker work gloves, continuing with only the latex pair he wore beneath them. With the addition of Ghazzi’s flashlight, Baahir was able to see that the hellstone tube was, indeed, so much more than just a casing. It, like the chamber’s walls, was covered with beautiful artwork. Something about the writing was different, though. The engravings on the walls spoke of Anubis and his teachings, including a collection of them. Baahir had to read the hieroglyphs twice before he realized what was dissimilar.
“First-person perspective?” The implications were mind-blowing. “It’s written in first-person! Here, listen…” He glanced back and forth between the tube end and the others as he read. “
Abbas and Rahal didn’t seem to understand, but Ghazzi did. “Then, it’s true?”
Baahir nodded, his eyes watering. His joy ended there.
He turned over the tube and found one last line, mentally translating it four times. A wave of dread washed over him. The others noticed the change in his demeanor.
“What’s wrong?” Ghazzi asked.
Baahir’s hands shook. He couldn’t answer.
“Dr. Hassan?” Rahal asked. “What does it say?”
Baahir followed the symbols with his forefinger, carefully reading them aloud. Ancient civilizations were full of doom-and-gloom stories, but this one felt different.
“
The Egyptologist set the artifact down and stood, and stepped away. He didn’t know exactly what Anubis was trying to convey, but he knew he didn’t want to be holding it when the truth was revealed. To him, it sounded as if Anubis, the one and only, had devised some kind of weapon.
Baahir held up his gloved hands and imagined some type of ancient biological weapon eating through the protective layer. His skin would be next.
“Dr. Hassan?” Ghazzi’s voice was soft. “It’s just a scroll.”
Baahir glanced over at the local. “How do you know?”
Ghazzi motioned to the room. “All of this tells me that.”
“And the text on the tube?” Baahir felt better simply talking it out.
The other man shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s dangerous. That sounds silly, no?”
Baahir smiled. It did sound silly. He put together what he did know and walked back his initial reaction.
“If it’s not a weapon, then what could it be?” The question was more to himself than the others. “The evidence suggests that it’s our scroll — a scroll filled with Anubis’ teachings — his incantations,” his eyes lit up, “his experimentations…” Baahir knelt and, again, picked up the tube. “What if it really is the first Book of the Dead, but also contains something else unseen by modern man, like a recipe to create a weapon of some kind.”
“An ancient cookbook?” Abbas asked, grinning.
Baahir didn’t get to reply. Rahal did.
“There’s never been any indication of that.”
“And how do you know that?”
“It’s my job.”
“And what is your job, exactly?” Baahir asked.
“I’m with the Ministry of State of Antiquities, and I assure you that there is nothing — not anywhere — to suggest that a mythological deity created a doomsday device with nothing more than sticks and sand and then hid it down here.”
Baahir was going to say something else but held back. There was more to Rahal than it seemed, and Baahir needed to remember that. He, and maybe even his bosses back in Cairo, owned intimate knowledge of the subject matter.
“So,” Baahir said, “do I open it?”
It took a second, but all three of his compatriots either shrugged or nodded their heads.
Baahir blew out a long breath. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
He examined the tube again and found a razor-thin slit halfway up. If Baahir had to guess, the artifact could be separated there.
