The two women stayed at Zahra’s place for the rest of the night. Dina had called her girlfriend and explained that Zahra needed some looking after following a ‘rough night out.’
Zahra wanted to immediately get moving, but Dina successfully talked her out of it, and Zahra hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight — a testament to just how banged-up Zahra was. And at her core, Zahra knew Dina was right. She’d be of no use to anyone half-asleep and sore as hell. So, Zahra climbed into bed in her fresh clothes and closed her eyes. Dina curled up next to her to keep an eye on her.
“You don’t have to sleep here,” Zahra said.
“Well, your couch is lumpy as shit.”
Zahra was asleep before she could laugh.
Surprisingly, the walls and ceiling were still natural. The only additions to the cavern, besides the equipment and workspaces on the floor, were lights and air ducts that hung between randomly formed stalactites. The ducts weren’t part of a cooling system. Their purpose was to ventilate impurities out of the air. The space felt cool and dry thanks, in part, to the ambient temperature that existed beneath the surface of the world.
He quickly descended the steps, uncaring if Khaliq had followed him or not. Baahir was too absorbed in the extremist’s underground headquarters to care. He felt like he was in a Bond movie, and Khaliq was his Goldfinger or Hugo Drax. Thanks to their father’s incessant need to have one playing at all hours of the day, Baahir and Zahra had been obsessed with old-school spy flicks when they were younger.
Men and women of all nationalities moved about, paying Baahir very little attention. They were too busy with their work to worry about Khaliq’s plus-one. It gave Baahir the impression that he wasn’t the first stranger to walk amongst them.
The Egyptologist buzzed by examination tables featuring all kinds of trinkets and doodads. Each individual tool had its specific purpose. But they didn’t concern Baahir. At the center of the rectangular cavern was a space dedicated to something important — Baahir could feel it in his bones. Plus, the human presence was the densest there.
He scooted around a squat man that was pulling along a rolling dry-erase board that featured crude sketches and short-hand notes. One of the quips caught his eye. It spoke of the Book of the Dead.
The scientist came to a stop where Baahir was headed, jabbing at the board with a single, pudgy digit. He was shouting in Arabic about a new passage they had apparently found within the Anubian scroll. Baahir rushed over. His presence caused those gathered around the table to stir and part like the Red Sea.
“He’s the one who found it,” one man whispered.
“That’s him,” another added.
Baahir slowed when he saw what it was that held their attention. There, pressed between a sheet of glass and the glass tabletop like a sandwich, was his scroll. It was gently backlit from beneath while also being mildly lit from above via a fluorescent light ballast. In Baahir’s absence, it had been relieved of its protective stone tube and rolled out for all to see. Thankfully, Khaliq had people on his team that knew how to properly handle fragile documents, though Baahir would have preferred the work be done in a sealed-off, dust-free examination room. The lack of one bothered him greatly.
The Egyptologist wheeled around on Khaliq. “You’re examining a once-in-lifetime discovery in a cave?” His hands were on his head. He was infuriated. “This is abhorrent!” He looked around. “Hardly anyone is even wearing gloves! Do you have any idea how destructive the oils in our skin are?” Baahir was breathing hard. He needed to catch his breath.
Baahir pushed through the crowd, even bumping Khaliq as he moved. He stopped in front of the dry-erase board and closed his eyes. He placed his hands on his head and took deep breaths.
It didn’t help. Hardly feeling calmer than he had been before, Baahir opened his eyes and stopped breathing altogether.
Before him on the dry-erase board wasn’t a map, as he thought there would be, but jumbled directions were pointing to a place in the middle of nowhere, far west of Giza. It wasn’t much, but given enough time, Baahir knew Khaliq would find it.
To the left of the location was something that made Baahir’s stomach sink.
It took him a moment to understand what was written there. Not hieroglyphics — not Egyptian of any sort.
It was a chemical equation.
He was no chemist — he couldn’t read the equation clearly. But it was obvious what it must be. It
He was staring at a chemical compound. A recipe.
And it was missing a component, judging by the blank, underlined space to the right.
Baahir knew exactly what would fill that space, as well. It was the same thing these people had been looking for.
