Concept date: 15th April, 2020.
First published: 4th September 2020
Status: COMPLETED.
Version: STANDARD.
Age Recommendation: 12+
Average Reading Time: Approximately 30 Minutes.
Revisions: 3. [Last Edit: October 2020]
Angel-in-charge: Margret Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1922AD-1340AH Mission: 301019 - 5 - 2093
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| "TOMB ES-42." |
NOTES: This episode contains bad language and details of a suicide.
"This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental." The Author.
"TOMB ES-42."
1. FORGOTTEN PEOPLE IN A FORGOTTEN PLACE.
Miss Libby [Elizabeth] Styles made for the big ramshackle hut, that pretended to be the main offices of the Egyptian Department of Antiquities - El Sharma District. Her loose boots slapped against her ankles and the laces flapped around her feet. She hadn't had time to tie them; just a quick check for small snakes, scorpions and particularly, the big camel spiders that loved to make a home in any foolishly discarded boot. She saw Tom standing by the door in shirt sleeves, his vivid red braces holding up his baggy, dirty linen trousers - way above his boots - it should be noted.
"Have you heard about bloody Howard Carter....down in the Valley of the Kings. Howard Carter has discovered a completely untouched tomb of some Pharaoh. It's on the radio." She stopped and panted, despite the beginning of the winter season, the weather was still hot. "For Christ sake Tom...a bloody untouched tomb. Can you image that?" She took a couple of deep breaths and finally made the doorway of the hut. "Bloody unbelievable, a tomb that hasn't been looted or even touched for three thousand years!"
Tom half smiled; "You say, the Howard carter working in the Valley of the Kings?" Libby nodded, standing bent over with her hands on her hips. She gasped; "This bloody heat seems to steal my breath!" Tom grunted; "Don't run in the heat then." and pulled open the loose door and shouted in: "That tosser Carter has hit pay dirt - a fucking un-looted tomb!" There was silence for a few seconds then the reply came; "It won't stay un-looted for long then." Steve Watson looked up from his desk and sipped his glass of whisky; it was his second one and it was only eleven o'clock in the morning.
His two young assistants stood in the doorway and exchanged a knowing glance; he was on a 'bender' again. Libby smiled; "I thought he was a friend of yours boss?" Steve folded his arms and leant back in the rickety chair and didn't smile; "That's the bloody problem Liz, I do know the bastard and rumours about the tomb have been around Cairo for nearly a year. He's had his pick of the good stuff already." Steve then chuckled; "He'll make a fortune and be famous into the bargain. Bloody good luck to him!" He raised his glass in salute. "Lucky bastard, he's heading for fame and fortune, whilst we're we're heading for poverty and an unmarked grave. History will never know our names."
He slapped the glass down and stared at the papers in front of him. "Forty four tombs - all old Kingdom and all bare as a baby's arse." He chuckled and sipped his whisky again. Libby gestured to the small kitchen at the end of the hut; "Do you fancy one of your favourites - cheese and onion sandwich's with a big pot of tea - the bread's fresh; it came in yesterday." Steve looked up and nodded; he must keep up appearances, but food was a real pain in an alcoholics life. That made him chuckle to himself. He sprawled over his desk and 'cat-napped'.
Tom sat at his desk opposite and shuffled some papers about. He stared at 'the Boss' and sighed. Everyone said it; 'what a fucking waste of talent!' Before the drink got him, Steve Watson was simply one of the best; he made Howard Carter look like he was on an Easter Egg hunt. But then came the young and alluring French Archaeologist and two years later, he was here drinking himself to death - out of sight and out of mind in the middle of nowhere.
Tom thought about the bitter injustice of his own fate; he had a promising teaching career thrown into the dustbin because of the lies of two young female students. He had never really understood what the expression 'hell has no fury like a scorned woman' really meant; he did now. He had to resign - despite his innocence - and couldn't find any work in Britain and so ended up in Egypt as assistant clerk of works. A grand title for an office manager; but it did allow him to indulge in his much loved hobby: photography. It made his employers happy; they didn't have to pay extra for a professional.
Then, of course, there was old Barnstable Coles, the Quaker Headmaster who had protested against the Great War. He was here too; mapping and sketching - another casualty of life. He had been dismissed from his school in 1914 because he was against the war and never found another teaching post. How he ended up in Egypt would have made a great movie - but not in 1922. It was the stuff of great novels that no-one would read.
Only Libby had no background story, but then, she was young and would move on next year - probably to the impressive and famous Temple complex at Karnack. She actually had a life in the offering. Though life wasn't that easy for Libby; when the department heard they had a qualified, young FEMALE Archaeologist on the staff, the head of Department said simply; "For god sake, send her somewhere she can't do any damn harm!" But she was pretty with a nice smile and the tenacious character of a bulldog. For months she pestered her bosses' until finally, they took her from Cairo Museum Library and sent her into the field - to El Sharma.
For the rest; career success - and life - had passed them well by.
Tom was shaken from his morbid thoughts by old 'Barny' appearing in the doorway, waving his hat across his face and panting in the heat. "You best wake the boss up; ES-42 has finally been uncovered. Achmed reckons its been covered up since the ridge fell down sometime in the 1860's. That covered three tombs, only two were dug out at the time. ES-42 was not bothered about, as its not finished inside." Barnstable Coles needed some water or better still, some tea. Libby shouted from the kitchen to come down and get a fresh cup. Old Barny didn't hesitate; he shuffled down the hut at quite remarkable speed for his age!
Steve, woken by the conversation, accepted the tea and plate of sandwiches from Libby with some reluctance and ate without enthusiasm. His entire team was in the one room - he didn't count the thirty or so Arab diggers and their two supervisors [Achmed being one] and the three woman cleaners and cooks. He listened to old Barny's report and just grunted. They would take a look inside just before dust; when it would be a lot cooler.
Tom would prepare his camera's and Barny [with Libby's help] would re-measure the tomb. He was a qualified Surveyor and that was the sole reason he had a job with the Egyptian Department of Antiquities at his age - qualified surveyors were hard to get hold of; especially in the middle of the desert!
That evening, after dinner, the motley little group headed for Tomb ES-42.
2. A STRANGE STORY ON THE WALLS.
Achmed watched them approach, electric torches showing the way. He wiped his face and didn't smile. He had been working 'dig's' around this region for over twenty years - like his father and Grand father before him and he knew the story of Tomb ES-42. Local legend had it, that Allah had commanded an angel to close the tomb for good and the angel pushed part of the ridge down upon it. Now the white Christians had forced the devoted son's of Allah to open the damn thing. He spat upon the ground, then fixed a smile upon his face and humbly greeted his 'masters'.
Miss Libby [Elizabeth] Styles made for the big ramshackle hut, that pretended to be the main offices of the Egyptian Department of Antiquities - El Sharma District. Her loose boots slapped against her ankles and the laces flapped around her feet. She hadn't had time to tie them; just a quick check for small snakes, scorpions and particularly, the big camel spiders that loved to make a home in any foolishly discarded boot. She saw Tom standing by the door in shirt sleeves, his vivid red braces holding up his baggy, dirty linen trousers - way above his boots - it should be noted.
"Have you heard about bloody Howard Carter....down in the Valley of the Kings. Howard Carter has discovered a completely untouched tomb of some Pharaoh. It's on the radio." She stopped and panted, despite the beginning of the winter season, the weather was still hot. "For Christ sake Tom...a bloody untouched tomb. Can you image that?" She took a couple of deep breaths and finally made the doorway of the hut. "Bloody unbelievable, a tomb that hasn't been looted or even touched for three thousand years!"
Tom half smiled; "You say, the Howard carter working in the Valley of the Kings?" Libby nodded, standing bent over with her hands on her hips. She gasped; "This bloody heat seems to steal my breath!" Tom grunted; "Don't run in the heat then." and pulled open the loose door and shouted in: "That tosser Carter has hit pay dirt - a fucking un-looted tomb!" There was silence for a few seconds then the reply came; "It won't stay un-looted for long then." Steve Watson looked up from his desk and sipped his glass of whisky; it was his second one and it was only eleven o'clock in the morning.
His two young assistants stood in the doorway and exchanged a knowing glance; he was on a 'bender' again. Libby smiled; "I thought he was a friend of yours boss?" Steve folded his arms and leant back in the rickety chair and didn't smile; "That's the bloody problem Liz, I do know the bastard and rumours about the tomb have been around Cairo for nearly a year. He's had his pick of the good stuff already." Steve then chuckled; "He'll make a fortune and be famous into the bargain. Bloody good luck to him!" He raised his glass in salute. "Lucky bastard, he's heading for fame and fortune, whilst we're we're heading for poverty and an unmarked grave. History will never know our names."
He slapped the glass down and stared at the papers in front of him. "Forty four tombs - all old Kingdom and all bare as a baby's arse." He chuckled and sipped his whisky again. Libby gestured to the small kitchen at the end of the hut; "Do you fancy one of your favourites - cheese and onion sandwich's with a big pot of tea - the bread's fresh; it came in yesterday." Steve looked up and nodded; he must keep up appearances, but food was a real pain in an alcoholics life. That made him chuckle to himself. He sprawled over his desk and 'cat-napped'.
Tom sat at his desk opposite and shuffled some papers about. He stared at 'the Boss' and sighed. Everyone said it; 'what a fucking waste of talent!' Before the drink got him, Steve Watson was simply one of the best; he made Howard Carter look like he was on an Easter Egg hunt. But then came the young and alluring French Archaeologist and two years later, he was here drinking himself to death - out of sight and out of mind in the middle of nowhere.
Tom thought about the bitter injustice of his own fate; he had a promising teaching career thrown into the dustbin because of the lies of two young female students. He had never really understood what the expression 'hell has no fury like a scorned woman' really meant; he did now. He had to resign - despite his innocence - and couldn't find any work in Britain and so ended up in Egypt as assistant clerk of works. A grand title for an office manager; but it did allow him to indulge in his much loved hobby: photography. It made his employers happy; they didn't have to pay extra for a professional.
Then, of course, there was old Barnstable Coles, the Quaker Headmaster who had protested against the Great War. He was here too; mapping and sketching - another casualty of life. He had been dismissed from his school in 1914 because he was against the war and never found another teaching post. How he ended up in Egypt would have made a great movie - but not in 1922. It was the stuff of great novels that no-one would read.
Only Libby had no background story, but then, she was young and would move on next year - probably to the impressive and famous Temple complex at Karnack. She actually had a life in the offering. Though life wasn't that easy for Libby; when the department heard they had a qualified, young FEMALE Archaeologist on the staff, the head of Department said simply; "For god sake, send her somewhere she can't do any damn harm!" But she was pretty with a nice smile and the tenacious character of a bulldog. For months she pestered her bosses' until finally, they took her from Cairo Museum Library and sent her into the field - to El Sharma.
For the rest; career success - and life - had passed them well by.
Tom was shaken from his morbid thoughts by old 'Barny' appearing in the doorway, waving his hat across his face and panting in the heat. "You best wake the boss up; ES-42 has finally been uncovered. Achmed reckons its been covered up since the ridge fell down sometime in the 1860's. That covered three tombs, only two were dug out at the time. ES-42 was not bothered about, as its not finished inside." Barnstable Coles needed some water or better still, some tea. Libby shouted from the kitchen to come down and get a fresh cup. Old Barny didn't hesitate; he shuffled down the hut at quite remarkable speed for his age!
Steve, woken by the conversation, accepted the tea and plate of sandwiches from Libby with some reluctance and ate without enthusiasm. His entire team was in the one room - he didn't count the thirty or so Arab diggers and their two supervisors [Achmed being one] and the three woman cleaners and cooks. He listened to old Barny's report and just grunted. They would take a look inside just before dust; when it would be a lot cooler.
Tom would prepare his camera's and Barny [with Libby's help] would re-measure the tomb. He was a qualified Surveyor and that was the sole reason he had a job with the Egyptian Department of Antiquities at his age - qualified surveyors were hard to get hold of; especially in the middle of the desert!
That evening, after dinner, the motley little group headed for Tomb ES-42.
2. A STRANGE STORY ON THE WALLS.
Achmed watched them approach, electric torches showing the way. He wiped his face and didn't smile. He had been working 'dig's' around this region for over twenty years - like his father and Grand father before him and he knew the story of Tomb ES-42. Local legend had it, that Allah had commanded an angel to close the tomb for good and the angel pushed part of the ridge down upon it. Now the white Christians had forced the devoted son's of Allah to open the damn thing. He spat upon the ground, then fixed a smile upon his face and humbly greeted his 'masters'.
Steve shone his torch into the darkness of the tomb and scrambled through the uncovered doorway. His torch played upon the floor and walls; "It appears to be in good condition, very little of the ceiling has come down and the walls are in fair shape." He shouted over his shoulder and disappeared into the darkness. Tom followed, cursing as he climbed over rubble. Libby caught old Barny crossing himself and gripped his arm gently; "Come on Barny, its just an empty tomb." The old man didn't smile and wiped his small glasses; "I don't think we're suppose to disturb this one. You know the local legend about the angel?"
Libby grinned; "I also know the local legend about magical talking scorpions and haven't seen one yet." She climbed over the rocks and rubble and disappeared into the darkness - now partially lit by the torches. Barny glanced at Achmed and said softly; "Pray for our forgiveness please." and with some difficulty, followed Libby inside.
Achmed nodded and waited outside, being joined by several diggers who stood and watched in silence. The tomb was remarkably cool - cold even - and Libby shivered a little, but joined Tom and Steve by the East wall. Steve had his thick, well worn notebook out and was staring at the wall paintings. Tom held up his torch and sighed; "It's too dark to photograph anything, I'll have to do it tomorrow when Achmed has rigged up some lighting in here."
Steve just nodded, he was deep in thought as he slowly and methodically translated the faded hieroglyphs. There was silence for some minutes and Barny checked the other walls with his torch. "So, it was never finished; the other walls have been smoothed and plastered, but are completely bare." He said softy to no-one in particular.
Steve just nodded, he was deep in thought as he slowly and methodically translated the faded hieroglyphs. There was silence for some minutes and Barny checked the other walls with his torch. "So, it was never finished; the other walls have been smoothed and plastered, but are completely bare." He said softy to no-one in particular.
Steve took a deep breath and spoke slowly; "Well, it belonged to a young man called Anebos who lived during the first or second dynasty - so it's probably one of the oldest tombs here. That's almost four and a half thousand years ago." Libby shone her torch at the first wall panel; "That means priest and prophet; his name I mean." Steve just nodded and continued; "It appears that he was a priest at the Temple of Horus [the ruins of that large temple complex lay some thirty miles east of El Sharma] and for some reason, he left the temple and became a bloody cabinet maker or maybe a carpenter or something like that."
Libby wiped her face with her sleeve and wondered how she could be sweating when it was like a cold box in here. "That's really unusual, being a priest meant he was a well educated man. Why give up such a comfortable and easy life to work with your hands?" Steve shrugged and the team shuffled to the next panel. Steve pulled open his notebook and there was silence again for a few minutes. Finally, Steve stepped back from the panel, pulled out his hankie and wiped his face and neck. "This makes no fucking sense, none whatsoever." He muttered and re-read the panel again.
Tom shone his torch over the panel; "It doesn't help that a large portion of the wall appears to had a chisel or something run over it. Someone deliberately damaged it, but when and why?" Everyone saw the strange look on Steve's face as they approached the third and final panel. There was silence again, this time for some minutes and Steve stood back and slowly pushed his notebook back into his dirty linen jacket. "Tom, we'll return in the morning and photograph these panels. I need to send them to Lionel Caspro at Cairo Museum to confirm my translations because....." He stopped speaking and just stared at the panels.
"What's wrong boss?" Tom asked and Steve looked down at the floor, then turned to his team - unsmiling. "The story on the walls seem to say that young Anebos - a priest at the temple of Horus - who had been born out of wedlock, with no known father, had been brought up in the temple, educated and looked after by the priests because he had the power of prophecy. He apparently saw the future and it always came true. Then he suddenly left and became a carpenter and preached around the towns and villages. What he preached was blasphemy to many Egyptians and he was taken before the Head Priest at Thebes for trial and was found guilty. His punishment was harsh; they gave him to the children of Hapi."
Libby sighed; "The children of Hapi - the God of the Nile - are Nile crocodiles. Really bad criminals, army deserters and cowards where thrown to the crocodiles. It was considered a terrible fate because, without your corporate body in existence, Ancient Egyptians believed you would receive no afterlife. You were basically condemned in this life and the next. A terrible fate for a pious Egyptian."
Steve folded his arms; "I've the left the best bit to last. According to the hieroglyphs, some three days later, Anebos appeared before his grieving mother, childhood friends and some priests from the temple - alive and well. They all apparently witnessed Amen-Re himself [the father of the Gods] collect Anebos in his solar boat and carry him off to the heavens."
There was real silence as Steve's words began to sink in. Finally Libby tapped Steve's arm and said softly; "What the hell was he preaching?" Steve actually half smiled and stared back at the panels; "He was preaching about one god, that there was only one god who had created everything in just seven days."
Steve walked to the entrance and said quietly; "I need a fucking drink." Tom followed him, but Barny grabbed Libby by the arm and whispered; "Do you realise just how bloody dangerous this is?" He looked about and waved his torch at the walls. "Its the bloody story of Christ, two thousand years before it bloody happened!" Libby slowly nodded and said softly; "Both Christians and Muslims will not want to hear about Anebos. It will cause ructions for both religions. I do see what you mean - are we in danger?"
Old Barny nodded and the pair headed for the doorway and scrambled out of the tomb, past three diggers posted to the doorway, by Steve, to protect the contents. They made their way back to camp quite quickly, where they found Tom and Steve sharing a bottle of 'Johnny Walker' whisky. Everyone sat in the office - deep in their own thoughts until Barny finally spoke; "If this story gets out, there will be hell to pay from devout Christians and Muslims. I think comrades, that we are in real danger. The powers will want to keep the lid on this find. It's makes the finding of that young Pharaoh's tomb seem like discovering a plastic ring in a Christmas cracker."
Everyone knew that old Barny was right. The religious fanatics - of both major religions - would not want this story re-surfacing. Steve sighed; "The followers of Allah will not want an earlier version of the Christian message found; it will reinforce the claim that Christianity was first, and the real true religion. The Christians won't want to know, that Anebos preached what the Christ said, some two thousand years before; that makes the Christ sound like a copy. You would get new fanatic's running around the place, waving crocodile bloody effigy's in your face!" Only Tom chuckled at Steve's words.
Libby had accepted a small whisky and cradled it her hands; she was deep in thought. But when Tom said, that if only they could read what had been vandalised on panel two, she remembered what she had found in the Cairo Museum Library about the tombs at El Sharma. She coughed; "There maybe a way Tom. Just before the bloody ridge fell on the tombs in 1860, A French Expedition had done some excavating around here - treasure hunters in reality, certainly not real archaeologists. They knew little about Ancient Egypt and none could read hieroglyphs. But they were accompanied by a Belgium photographer called Emmanuel DeGadd. He photographed the tombs - especially the wall panels and I do remember that the file, on the so called expedition, contained photographs of the inside of ES-42. Maybe undamaged wall panels, who knows. It must be worth a go."
Steve took a deep breath and downed his whisky in one hit and refilled his glass, offering the bottle around. "Libby and I will head for Cairo tomorrow. Tom and Barny will stay here and keep the tomb closed up; no-one is allowed in there - absolutely no-one. Do you understand?" The two men nodded.
After a troubled nights sleep, Libby and Steve headed for the river and managed to find the owner of a fast Dhow [a single sail river boat] who would take them to Cairo for whisky, cigarettes and two Egyptian pounds - paid in coins. They left just after dawn, sitting together in the small stern. Steve dozing with his hat pulled over his face and Libby - under her colourful parasol - watching the settlements along the river bank passing by. They reached Cairo the following morning and made straight for the Cairo Museum - it was still closed; they had to wait in a nearby European café for a couple of hours - but they enjoyed a modest breakfast together. Steve declined the offer of brandy and drank dark coffee instead; that didn't go un-noticed by Libby.
They visited a local bazaar and Steve bought Libby a big, colourful bag which she loved. Just for a few hours, the pair enjoyed their visit - and each other's company. Then, they heard the call to prayers from a local mosque and headed for the Museum; it was now open.
Libby certainly knew her way around the Museum Archives and found the 1860 Expedition file to El Sharma quite quickly. They sat in the almost empty reading room and opened the file. It contained several sheets of paper - all in French - and a dozen photographs. She was a little amazed that Steve could read French and asked him where he gained that skill. He didn't smile and just grunted; "Three years on the Western Front teaches you many things." She nodded and didn't ask any questions about his part in the 'Great War to end all wars'. She had lost her only brother at the Battle of Loo's in 1915, and really didn't want to rekindle any memories of that dreadful time.
Steve tapped one photograph and whispered: "The wall panels of Tomb ES-42 and they appear to have only minor damage." They both looked around and Steve, with a small pocket magnifying glass, started to translate. He spoke quietly to Libby who wrote all that he said in her notebook. They finished and Libby went off to replace the file and then, the pair left the old building - in total silence - just in case they were overheard. They headed for the docks, after buying some food and wine from a small café, and then waited for a un-hired Dhow.
Libby whispered to Steve, as they stood on the dockside; "Old Barny was right - this could get us bloody killed." Steve just nodded and gestured towards a Dhow that had just arrived. "I bet our Arab friend will sail back up the river for three pounds in cash. Come on." He was right, the young Dhow owner almost snatched the money and they immediately set out for El Sharma.
3. THE REVELATIONS OF ANEBOS.
The little boat was making slow progress, the wind only fluttered its crisp white sail and the young boatman dozed, holding the rudder with both hands. Steve turned and smiled at his young companion, curled up under her parasol - sleeping. He stared at her slim figure beneath the thin dress and really did smile at her worn boots. If he wasn't a drunk and a failure, he would have tried for her. He sighed and tried to get comfortable, but what he had translated deeply disturbed his thoughts.
Little wonder the priests had condemned Anebos to such a horrific death, what he had preached was against everything that was believed - at the time - the multiple God's, slavery, war and religious oppression. He dipped his hand into the cool water and wiped his face. Anebos's mother was described as a 'Maid' - that was simply a virgin woman - and he had the power of real prophecy - apparently. Little wonder crowds flocked to him and listened to what he preached and promised. He had told them that the single God - the true God according to him - would send five prophets [he quoted: as the fingers of one hand] to guide the people. He was the first; he called himself 'the Pathway'.
the second prophet was referred to as 'The King of dreams'. The third Prophet would be called 'the son of the light' and the fourth one; 'the Teacher.' The fifth and final prophet was referred to as; 'The Dark Star of the West.' That seemed to imply he or she would be from the dead; the 'West; in Egyptian minds was the land of the dead. That didn't make sense to Steve.
the second prophet was referred to as 'The King of dreams'. The third Prophet would be called 'the son of the light' and the fourth one; 'the Teacher.' The fifth and final prophet was referred to as; 'The Dark Star of the West.' That seemed to imply he or she would be from the dead; the 'West; in Egyptian minds was the land of the dead. That didn't make sense to Steve.
But it was the revelation that Anebos had cured the sick and even raised a dead child back to life [before the priests had her mummified] that plagued his thoughts. Anebos's short life bore striking similarities to Jesus Christ, right down to his resurrection some three days later. Steve closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come, as the same questions kept swirling around his head; who would be the Fifth and final prophet? the Dark Star of the West? What did that mean?
He shifted quietly and stared at the river behind them, in the evening moonlight he could see a large Dhow some distance behind them. He caught the flicker of torchlights occasionally and he guessed that it contained maybe four or five people. There was nothing else moving on the river as night fell. He turned to the boatman; "Do you know who owns that boat?" The young man sat up and rubbed his face; "I was not sleeping, I'm a good Captain..." He didn't finish because Steve asked; "Can you see whose boat it is and who's in it. Your eyes are younger than mine."
The young man grinned and gripped his rudder, leaning forward and staring hard in the gathering darkness; "That is Ali Hussain's boat. He normally does not sail after dark. The others are like you, except one." He slumped back and grinned again. Steve sighed; "What do you mean like us?" He gestured to himself and Libby, who had now stirred and sat up. Their boatman smiled; "White people except for the huge Nubian. White people dressed like you."
Steve turned quietly to Libby and said; "You may call me paranoid, but I think they're following us. Look around, there's not another soul on the river and they just happen to be behind us - all the way from Cairo docks. That's some co-incidence eh?" Libby nodded; "Sweet lord, the black fella is huge. He must take up a quarter of the boat. But they have a well dressed woman with them. She has a parasol like mine and a wonderful hat." Libby accepted the water bottle and took a sip, adding; "Surely they wouldn't be up to anything really bad with such a lady on board?" Steve just grunted and was not surprised by Libby's innocence of the evils of men - and women - and flipped open his pocket watch; "About another four hours until we reach El Sharma." He muttered.
Libby shifted and rubbed her backside; "They don't seem to be trying to overtake us. Yet their boat probably could." She said softly and could see the flicking of electric torches from the craft. She handed around some of the food they had purchased in Cairo - the young boatmen seemed quite pleased and a little surprised - that his passengers were kind enough to share their meagre rations with him; a lowly boatman. He ate with some relish and guided his little boat with well practised skill.
Steve woke Libby as the boat eased against the small dock at El Sharma. The place was deserted, which didn't surprise them; it was two o'clock in the morning! They thanked the boatman and started to walk towards their camp. After a few minutes, Steve stopped and gestured back to the small dock; the little boat had departed, but the big Dhow had arrived. They both looked at each other; with a little fear growing inside. "I think your bloody right." Was all Libby said and they started to hurry.
They walked in silence until they reached the compound that contained the tombs. Steve suddenly grabbed Libby by the arm and gesturing her to silence, scrambled behind a small rocky ridge that just overlooked their camp. They could see torches, not electric ones but flaming ones - like the natives used. That's when a small explosion lit up the dark night sky. "Christ! They've torched the petrol dump!" [they stored petrol for the generators that produced the camps electricity].Steve refrained from shouting and wiped his face. They could see the fires now enveloping their tents and huts and could hear the shouting of the culprits.
"Allahu Akbar. Bloody Allahu Akbar." Whispered Steve, he turned to Libby and said softly; "Muslim fanatics." Libby wrapped her arms around her herself and whispered; "Where the hell is old Barny and Tom?" She asked with real concern. That's when they heard the rifle shots, several were clearly heard and both cowered behind the rocks. "We haven't got any fucking rifles!" Steve muttered. Then there was silence for a few minutes and he raised his head very cautiously and whispered to Libby; "The torches are in the distance, they must be leaving."
"What about Tom and Barny?" She asked again and brushed tears from her cheeks. Steve smiled and gripped her arm; "That pair of tough buggers could survive a weekend in Hell - if they had to." They rose slowly and stared down at the camp - now a blaze; flames and smoke lifting into the cold night air. "You stay here. I'll do a little reconnoitre and come back for you." Steve said, but Libby grabbed the back of his dirty shirt with some determination; "Like hell you will. Where you go, I bloody well go!" Steve just smiled, he wasn't actually angry, probably a little pleased, that Libby wanted to stay with him - even if only because she was scared out of her wits!
They made their way slowly into the camp and were greeted by a big black man with a rifle and a nice smile. A much younger man emerged from the darkness with his rifle slung over the shoulder; "They've buggered off, but the camp is quite a mess." He gave a cheery wave to the astonished Steve and Libby, adding: "Hi, I'm Owen, that the big fella is Mister Wilson." Jericho appeared behind Libby, making her jump a little, he nodded to Wilson; "I've called Alexandra and told her to bring up the horses." He smiled at Steve and held out his hand; "Jerry Tibbs, American & Arabia Oli Incorporated and you've already met my colleagues - well, except our Alexandra who bringing up the horses."
"Have you seen our friends; an old man and a younger one, they're called Tom and Barny?" Libby asked, then watched as Alex appeared through the smoke and moonlight; leading a string of horses and a pack mule. Trailing behind and looking pretty relieved came Tom and old Barny. Libby broke into a huge smile and embraced the pair. "I found them hiding behind some rocks near a blazing tomb entrance." Alex slapped the neck of her horse and smiled.
Old Barny sighed; "The bastards threw anything that would burn into Tomb 42 and then tossed in some petrol. It went up like Guy Fawkes night. There won't be anything left of the wall paintings now." Steve just nodded. Either side [Christian or Muslim] would have been well pleased to destroy the wall paintings and completely eradicate the story of Anebos from history.
"If only I had bothered my lazy arse and photographed them." Tom looked quite sad and Steve tapped his arm and smiled, whispering into his ear. Whatever he said cheered Tom up. Jericho smiled at Wilson, who nodded. The trip to the museum had been successful - obviously. Alex Joined the pair - Owen had the horses now - and said softly: "I take it they have the forbidden photographs or a good copy of them?" Jericho sighed; "Old Doc Underhill won't be impressed, the last time the wall panels appeared, he thought he had closed them off for good with that landslide back last century. He relied on dynamite and it worked; for a while."
Jericho looked about the wrecked and burning settlement and jerked a thumb to the ridge above; "I think its best, if we camp on the other side of that for tonight. We can take turns on watch from the ridge; we will be able to see anyone approaching from up there. Fire a warning shot if there's any danger." Steve nodded his agreement; he would have suggested that - this 'Jerry Tibbs' must have served in the war - maybe that's why the oil company had hired him. But he wondered about the others, especially the woman; she was a real stunner. What the fuck was she doing in this dump hole?
4. CAMP WILDERNESS.
They had made a makeshift camp in the horseshoe shaped rocks of the ridge and Tom sat at one end of the 'horseshoe' and Owen watched at the other. They both could see each other and occasionally gave a little wave. Alex and Libby had the big coffee pot on and Libby was really curious about Alex; especially when she discovered she was Doctor and an Italian Countess!
Barny sat chewing a couple of salty crackers and was looking forward to hot coffee; he turned to Steve, who was drinking from his water bottle and said quietly; "If they are prospectors for an oii company, then I'm the bloody Prince of Wales. I helped unpack the mule; they have no surveying kit with them - none - ever met oil prospectors with no surveying kit?" He smiled at Libby as she passed him a hot cup of coffee.
Steve grunted; "I know. Where the fuck did the horses and mule come from? They certainly weren't on the bloody Dhow they turned up in. They had to be waiting here for them, but where's the fucking people who bought them?" Barny sipped his coffee; "They made no real attempt to shoot anyone; they fired in the air. Strange eh?" Steve wiped his face; their 'benefactors' were a strange bunch indeed. Alex also fascinated him, but not for the same reasons that fascinated Libby. He had a real stirring in his blood over her and that had not happed since the little French archaeologist, had ripped up his heart for arse paper.
He accepted a coffee from Libby, who sat down next to him, he gestured to Alex; "What's her story?" He asked and took a couple of very welcome sips. Libby told them that Alex was a Doctor employed by the company and was making a rare field trip with the prospect gang. Libby, with some amazement, explained that, Owen had said, she was also an Italian Countess. The big African fellow was a 'Yank' from New York - Some sort of bodyguard - Steve could easily believe that and the young man was some kind of Geology expert. She really didn't know much about 'Jerry Tibbs'; except, he was obviously in charge of the odd little group.
"If its ok with you Steve; we'll relieve Tom and Owen in a couple of hours." Jericho stood in front of them and sipped his coffee. Steve nodded; "We need to be on our toes, there's a renegade band of Bedouin hanging around El Sharma and they're dangerous. They raid for water and horses...and women to sell at the white slave auctions and we have everything they could want, right here."
He gestured to Alex and Libby, adding; "The bastards would get more for those two, than the horses and the bloody mule combined. Especially that Alex of yours; she's worth a fortune on her own. They'll be around us like flies on shit; if they know we're here." Steve stood up and pointed down to his burnt out camp; "And that little bonfire will have them crawling all over this place."
They grouped around the fire for warmth against the chill of the desert night. Wilson asked old Barny; "What the hell he was doing out in the desert at his age?" The old man grinned; "Protesting against that bloody insanity that killed millions. Had I been a younger man I would have been a conscientious objector. That really got up their noses and I was sacked with no notice from my teaching post. Thirty-three years of loyal service and they threw me to the dogs."
Barny shrugged his shoulders; "I did get a bit even with the Chairman of the Board, who threw me out. I met him last year in Cairo. He had lost both his son's in that war. Wasn't so bloody keen on the thing now and I pointed that out. That was a good day." He chuckled and gratefully received a refill from Libby.
Alex skilfully turned the conversation to the tombs of El Sharma and why was that tomb burnt out? At first, Steve and Libby were very reticent to discuss tomb 42. But finally, Steve explained the strange wall panels in the tomb and Jericho's team listened with real interest. They pretended to downplay the importance of the find - historically - and Alex asked, if Steve knew who the other four 'Prophets' were. They were deliberately treating it like a joke, in a crafty way, to find out how much the Archaeologist's actually knew.
Steve sipped his coffee and cuddled his cup with both hands; "Well, the first was Anebos - obviously - he said so himself - The second one is easy; that was the heretic Pharaoh Akhenaten. His prayer to the Aten so resembles the 'Lord's Prayer' that it would be a great joke - if it wasn't so bloody serious. He preached one God against the accepted belief of multi Gods; just like Anebos."
Libby shifted on the piece of canvas that Wilson had given her to sit on; "The Jews were the only people to advocate a single Deity at the time. So, I would say that Christ - who Anebos's story closely resembles - would get my vote as the third Prophet. Then, of course. Muhammad certainly would be called the fourth - the latest one - if you like. But the fifth and final one; nobody will know who that is until he appears."
Jericho laid back on his pack and stared up at the stars; the little band of Archaeologists had it spot on. He almost knew who the 'fifth prophet' would be - but certainly wouldn't reveal that; here and now. Libby sighed; "It seems to me that God changes his mind a lot for an infallible Deity. All the 'desert' religions are similar, but with some really major differences. If we weren't taught better, then I would say, that some sort of coup d'état's took place and the ruling Deity changed." She chuckled and finished her coffee, adding; "I have no evidence for that, of course. But it would be interesting; wouldn't it?"
Jericho really had to restrain himself, from telling her just how close she had come to the truth. He believed that the fifth prophet would appear in the 21st century and they would point the religious towards the Dark Prince; who could well be; the new ruling deity. He also wouldn't mention, that all four 'Prophets' were the same person; the eldest son and heir of the current ruler. The young man changed his idea's for humanity, like someone changed their socks!
Little wonder that he and his father had separated; they had very different idea's for humanity. Then, of course, there was the Dark Prince, whose followers were slowly infiltrating the minds of humanity. Slowly getting them to cast away their own thoughts and wishes, to conform with the herd. They were slowly throwing away individual 'Freewill' using their own freewill!
Clever that. But the young Prince was clever and cunning, playing the long term game. He would drop the fifth 'Prophet' upon humanity and they would follow like sheep into the oblivion of single thought and mindset. There would be no individual thoughts allowed; everyone would think like everyone else - right or wrong - or be destroyed. Like Nazi's, they would truly believe they - and only they - were right. Little wonder all the prophets referred to humanity as sheep and God as the Shepherd; provided that God was the Dark Prince, in this case.
The Dark Prince had always advocated removing the divine gift of freewill from humans - in his eyes - they didn't deserve it and should be returned to the 'animal' state of existence. Now, he had them doing that very procedure to themselves!
Jericho actually chuckled out loud at his thoughts; that drew strange looks from everyone. He just smiled. That's when he saw Owen gesturing to him; they had visitors. That's when they all heard the dull explosion from the other end of 'horseshoe' and the distant falling of rocks. Someone had set off explosions at the old site. Jericho rubbed his chin; Someone was really making sure that Anebos's tomb was buried.
5. THE SEIGE.
Steve and Jericho joined Owen behind the rocks, on the edge of the small ridge and watched as the two Bedouin approached, under a white flag, tied to an ancient looking rifle. Steve grunted and wiped his face; "Pound to a penny, they know we have the girls and horses. First they'll offer to trade, then when we tell them to piss off; they'll attack. it's way they do business around here." Jericho scratched his chain and placed his rifle down; "Let's hear what they have to say." Steve also placed his rifle down and the three were joined by Wilson.
"I wonder if they speak English or even French, though my French isn't that good, despite living in France for three shitty years." Steve smiled and the pair made their way down the slope for a few yards and stopped. To Steve's utter surprise, Jericho called to the two Bedouins in their own language. Steve smiled; now he knew why the oil company had engaged him; few white people had bothered to master the Bedouin language over the years the country had been colonised by European powers.
It certainly made the two Arabs stop in their tracks; Jericho repeated his greeting and asked what they wanted at this time of night. There was silence for a while and then the much older man grinned and asked if the white masters wished to sell their horses and women. He held up a small goatskin bag and stated that it contained, at least a Hundred Pounds in Sterling - not Egyptian - and that's what he offered for the horses and the girls. Jericho translated what was said to Steve, who snorted; "Bloody Alex is worth five times that on her own. Tell them they're the thieving bastard sons of camel dung dealers."
Jericho's reply was somewhat more diplomatic. He told the old man that neither the horses or women were for sale; but thanks for the generous offer. The old man kept grinning and held up another goatskin bag, which he claimed - with Allah's blessing - contained at least another hundred pounds. When Jericho translated that for Steve; he pulled a grim expression; "Somehow the fuckers must have seen Alex, they wouldn't offer that sort of money without seeing the goods first. I smell a large rat."
That's when they heard the shots coming from the other side of the ridge; Tom and Barny had engaged a group of Bedouin trying to outflank them, using the 'talks' as cover. Steve and Jericho dropped to sand, as their two Arabs pointed their rifles at them; shouting and swearing in Bedouin. A bullet thudded into the sand next to Jericho's head. Then the two Arabs came under fire from Wilson and Owen. One dropped to the dirt without a word. The other fled back down the ridge; shouting for his colleagues to attack the white dogs.
Jericho and Steve made it back to Owen and Wilson, snatching up their rifles; Jericho told Wilson to support Tom and Barny and crouching low, Wilson disappeared. The Bedouin made easy targets coming up the ridge and two were dropped by Steve and Owen. The rest retreated, taking one man with them; the other lay quite still amongst the rocks. Only Owen and Jericho could see the collector - Big Yoki - gathering up two souls. He gave a little wave and was gone, with the two bewildered men in tow; they had never met a Chinese man before or been dead before!
Steve wondered where Jericho had served - in the war - probably an officer - like he had been. He had no doubts now, why the oil company had hired him. The firing on the flank had stopped. Steve reasoned that the Bedouin chief would be weighing up the profit margins for this little skirmish; he wouldn't have expected the 'English dogs' to have so much fire power. He was probably deciding how many men were worth losing, to get his hands on the girls and horses. So, what would he do?
Alex appeared amongst them - unsmiling - she had her pistol out. Steve was now really impressed, until she told them that old Barny had been hit. The bullet had gone through his throat and he died quite quickly. With Steve present, she couldn't tell Jericho and Owen, that Kath the Collector had taken him. Steve restrained from cursing and just nodded sadly; he had seen too many of his friends killed in the war, but still wasn't use to it.
"How many did we get?" He asked Alex, who said quietly; "Two, but one was dragged away - wounded I think - the other is still lying on the sand." She also didn't say, that Kath had picked him up too. "How's the ammo?" Jericho asked; they had about a dozen rounds each and Alex had four bullets left in her 'Smith & Weston'. She gripped Steve by the arm - he loved her touch - and said; "Go and speak to Libby, she's quite distraught over seeing Barny killed, go on." He nodded and slipped away.
Owen lay back and said quietly; "Now, what the fuck do we do?" Jericho gestured to the ridge above them; "Come the morning, they'll work their way up there and try and pick us off; so we need to get up there before them." Jericho stared down the ridge; what were the fuckers up to? They had been surprised by the strength of the resistance; they wouldn't make that mistake again. He told Owen and Alex to hold here and slipped back to camp to find Steve and explain what they needed to do.
Steve agreed with Jericho's thinking; He wondered if 'Jerry' had been a Captain or maybe, even a Colonel in the War? He certainly knew his tactics and had a real cool head under fire. Steve lead the party - really quietly - up the ridge's tight path. The horse struggled, but made it. The mule walked up with little effort, Barny's body on his back; covered in a canvas sheet. They would have to bury the old man quickly; in the heat of day and on a bare ridge, he would become quite unpleasant very quickly. Jericho and Wilson held the rear, until signalled by Alex, that they had arrived safely.
They found a sheltered clef in the rocks and settled in; they all had some water, which would become quite scare - quickly - in the heat of day. In the early morning sunshine, they could see clearly, the Bedouin camp below them - placed well out of the range of their rifles - and Jericho counted heads; at least twenty, maybe twenty five. Steve was really impressed, when Jericho then counted the horses and camels he could see. Again, the figure was about twenty five. He did the maths; they had downed just three - confirmed dead - and maybe two were wounded. They were badly outnumbered, low on ammunition and more importantly; low on water.
"They have spread about nine men around the ridge, closing off our escape. I think they won't attack again. They'll just sit and wait; let heat and thirst do their work for them. The Chief is probably an old warrior, he won't waste men; if he doesn't have too." Jericho explained the situation and Owen, gripping his rifle closely, nodded; "You mean we're under bloody siege?" Jericho said 'Yes' quietly.
Steve had his arm around the quiet Libby, still a little shocked by seeing old Barny killed, but watched Alex carefully. He licked his dry lips; that was some women, if the fucking Bedouin had seen her, they definitely wouldn't call it quits. Some rich Sheikh would pay, maybe, a thousand pounds - Sterling - for her; easily. The Chief wouldn't pass up that sort of money, when all he had to do was sit and wait; unfortunately, the Bedouin were known for their patience.
Wilson called out - he was on watch - and raised his rifle; "Another one is coming up the ridge under a white flag!" Jericho and Steve scrambled over to him; they were ready for any tricks now. The old man stood with his rifle gripped in both hands; a white cloth tied around the end. He spoke good English; "My friends this is silly. You know we can sit here and wait. That's all we have to do, you are going nowhere." He gestured up to the blazing sun; "Allah's gift will drive you down. But, I need to be somewhere else soon, so I make you an offer, are you listening my friends?
Jericho shouted down that he was listening; in the old man's native tongue. That made the old Chief smile. "You are clearly blessed with intelligence my friend. You speak our language well. I would not be happy killing such a man. So listen to reason my friend. Send the beauty down - alone - and I will let you take your horses and go in peace. She will not be harmed, for she has much value. My old friend Sheikh Mohamed Malik would pay much gold for her, if delivered unharmed. So I give you my word that all I say is true. I say this before Allah."
Jericho rubbed his chin; making such an oath meant that the Chief would keep his word. For some reason that set alarm bells off. He turned quietly to Owen; "Discretely check your mirror for that Sheikh, something is very wrong here. How did they know about Alex? No-one has seen her - except us and the Archaeologists..." He stopped in mid sentence; "Also check Ali Hussain, the boatman who bought us here from Cairo docks. We picked up that damn boat really easily in that crowded docks. Too easily." He muttered and Owen hurried away to find a quite corner to operate his mirror.
Jericho shouted down to the chief that he needed time to discuss it with the others. The chief nodded and returned to his encampment. Alex wasn't happy; "What do you bloody mean; discuss it? It's bloody not up for discussion!" Jericho patted her face and smiled; "Alexandra, trust me, we are not about to trade you in."
6. THE MIRICLE AT DUSK.
Libby shifted and rubbed her backside; "They don't seem to be trying to overtake us. Yet their boat probably could." She said softly and could see the flicking of electric torches from the craft. She handed around some of the food they had purchased in Cairo - the young boatmen seemed quite pleased and a little surprised - that his passengers were kind enough to share their meagre rations with him; a lowly boatman. He ate with some relish and guided his little boat with well practised skill.
Steve woke Libby as the boat eased against the small dock at El Sharma. The place was deserted, which didn't surprise them; it was two o'clock in the morning! They thanked the boatman and started to walk towards their camp. After a few minutes, Steve stopped and gestured back to the small dock; the little boat had departed, but the big Dhow had arrived. They both looked at each other; with a little fear growing inside. "I think your bloody right." Was all Libby said and they started to hurry.
They walked in silence until they reached the compound that contained the tombs. Steve suddenly grabbed Libby by the arm and gesturing her to silence, scrambled behind a small rocky ridge that just overlooked their camp. They could see torches, not electric ones but flaming ones - like the natives used. That's when a small explosion lit up the dark night sky. "Christ! They've torched the petrol dump!" [they stored petrol for the generators that produced the camps electricity].Steve refrained from shouting and wiped his face. They could see the fires now enveloping their tents and huts and could hear the shouting of the culprits.
"Allahu Akbar. Bloody Allahu Akbar." Whispered Steve, he turned to Libby and said softly; "Muslim fanatics." Libby wrapped her arms around her herself and whispered; "Where the hell is old Barny and Tom?" She asked with real concern. That's when they heard the rifle shots, several were clearly heard and both cowered behind the rocks. "We haven't got any fucking rifles!" Steve muttered. Then there was silence for a few minutes and he raised his head very cautiously and whispered to Libby; "The torches are in the distance, they must be leaving."
"What about Tom and Barny?" She asked again and brushed tears from her cheeks. Steve smiled and gripped her arm; "That pair of tough buggers could survive a weekend in Hell - if they had to." They rose slowly and stared down at the camp - now a blaze; flames and smoke lifting into the cold night air. "You stay here. I'll do a little reconnoitre and come back for you." Steve said, but Libby grabbed the back of his dirty shirt with some determination; "Like hell you will. Where you go, I bloody well go!" Steve just smiled, he wasn't actually angry, probably a little pleased, that Libby wanted to stay with him - even if only because she was scared out of her wits!
They made their way slowly into the camp and were greeted by a big black man with a rifle and a nice smile. A much younger man emerged from the darkness with his rifle slung over the shoulder; "They've buggered off, but the camp is quite a mess." He gave a cheery wave to the astonished Steve and Libby, adding: "Hi, I'm Owen, that the big fella is Mister Wilson." Jericho appeared behind Libby, making her jump a little, he nodded to Wilson; "I've called Alexandra and told her to bring up the horses." He smiled at Steve and held out his hand; "Jerry Tibbs, American & Arabia Oli Incorporated and you've already met my colleagues - well, except our Alexandra who bringing up the horses."
"Have you seen our friends; an old man and a younger one, they're called Tom and Barny?" Libby asked, then watched as Alex appeared through the smoke and moonlight; leading a string of horses and a pack mule. Trailing behind and looking pretty relieved came Tom and old Barny. Libby broke into a huge smile and embraced the pair. "I found them hiding behind some rocks near a blazing tomb entrance." Alex slapped the neck of her horse and smiled.
Old Barny sighed; "The bastards threw anything that would burn into Tomb 42 and then tossed in some petrol. It went up like Guy Fawkes night. There won't be anything left of the wall paintings now." Steve just nodded. Either side [Christian or Muslim] would have been well pleased to destroy the wall paintings and completely eradicate the story of Anebos from history.
"If only I had bothered my lazy arse and photographed them." Tom looked quite sad and Steve tapped his arm and smiled, whispering into his ear. Whatever he said cheered Tom up. Jericho smiled at Wilson, who nodded. The trip to the museum had been successful - obviously. Alex Joined the pair - Owen had the horses now - and said softly: "I take it they have the forbidden photographs or a good copy of them?" Jericho sighed; "Old Doc Underhill won't be impressed, the last time the wall panels appeared, he thought he had closed them off for good with that landslide back last century. He relied on dynamite and it worked; for a while."
Jericho looked about the wrecked and burning settlement and jerked a thumb to the ridge above; "I think its best, if we camp on the other side of that for tonight. We can take turns on watch from the ridge; we will be able to see anyone approaching from up there. Fire a warning shot if there's any danger." Steve nodded his agreement; he would have suggested that - this 'Jerry Tibbs' must have served in the war - maybe that's why the oil company had hired him. But he wondered about the others, especially the woman; she was a real stunner. What the fuck was she doing in this dump hole?
4. CAMP WILDERNESS.
They had made a makeshift camp in the horseshoe shaped rocks of the ridge and Tom sat at one end of the 'horseshoe' and Owen watched at the other. They both could see each other and occasionally gave a little wave. Alex and Libby had the big coffee pot on and Libby was really curious about Alex; especially when she discovered she was Doctor and an Italian Countess!
Barny sat chewing a couple of salty crackers and was looking forward to hot coffee; he turned to Steve, who was drinking from his water bottle and said quietly; "If they are prospectors for an oii company, then I'm the bloody Prince of Wales. I helped unpack the mule; they have no surveying kit with them - none - ever met oil prospectors with no surveying kit?" He smiled at Libby as she passed him a hot cup of coffee.
Steve grunted; "I know. Where the fuck did the horses and mule come from? They certainly weren't on the bloody Dhow they turned up in. They had to be waiting here for them, but where's the fucking people who bought them?" Barny sipped his coffee; "They made no real attempt to shoot anyone; they fired in the air. Strange eh?" Steve wiped his face; their 'benefactors' were a strange bunch indeed. Alex also fascinated him, but not for the same reasons that fascinated Libby. He had a real stirring in his blood over her and that had not happed since the little French archaeologist, had ripped up his heart for arse paper.
He accepted a coffee from Libby, who sat down next to him, he gestured to Alex; "What's her story?" He asked and took a couple of very welcome sips. Libby told them that Alex was a Doctor employed by the company and was making a rare field trip with the prospect gang. Libby, with some amazement, explained that, Owen had said, she was also an Italian Countess. The big African fellow was a 'Yank' from New York - Some sort of bodyguard - Steve could easily believe that and the young man was some kind of Geology expert. She really didn't know much about 'Jerry Tibbs'; except, he was obviously in charge of the odd little group.
"If its ok with you Steve; we'll relieve Tom and Owen in a couple of hours." Jericho stood in front of them and sipped his coffee. Steve nodded; "We need to be on our toes, there's a renegade band of Bedouin hanging around El Sharma and they're dangerous. They raid for water and horses...and women to sell at the white slave auctions and we have everything they could want, right here."
He gestured to Alex and Libby, adding; "The bastards would get more for those two, than the horses and the bloody mule combined. Especially that Alex of yours; she's worth a fortune on her own. They'll be around us like flies on shit; if they know we're here." Steve stood up and pointed down to his burnt out camp; "And that little bonfire will have them crawling all over this place."
They grouped around the fire for warmth against the chill of the desert night. Wilson asked old Barny; "What the hell he was doing out in the desert at his age?" The old man grinned; "Protesting against that bloody insanity that killed millions. Had I been a younger man I would have been a conscientious objector. That really got up their noses and I was sacked with no notice from my teaching post. Thirty-three years of loyal service and they threw me to the dogs."
Barny shrugged his shoulders; "I did get a bit even with the Chairman of the Board, who threw me out. I met him last year in Cairo. He had lost both his son's in that war. Wasn't so bloody keen on the thing now and I pointed that out. That was a good day." He chuckled and gratefully received a refill from Libby.
Alex skilfully turned the conversation to the tombs of El Sharma and why was that tomb burnt out? At first, Steve and Libby were very reticent to discuss tomb 42. But finally, Steve explained the strange wall panels in the tomb and Jericho's team listened with real interest. They pretended to downplay the importance of the find - historically - and Alex asked, if Steve knew who the other four 'Prophets' were. They were deliberately treating it like a joke, in a crafty way, to find out how much the Archaeologist's actually knew.
Steve sipped his coffee and cuddled his cup with both hands; "Well, the first was Anebos - obviously - he said so himself - The second one is easy; that was the heretic Pharaoh Akhenaten. His prayer to the Aten so resembles the 'Lord's Prayer' that it would be a great joke - if it wasn't so bloody serious. He preached one God against the accepted belief of multi Gods; just like Anebos."
Libby shifted on the piece of canvas that Wilson had given her to sit on; "The Jews were the only people to advocate a single Deity at the time. So, I would say that Christ - who Anebos's story closely resembles - would get my vote as the third Prophet. Then, of course. Muhammad certainly would be called the fourth - the latest one - if you like. But the fifth and final one; nobody will know who that is until he appears."
Jericho laid back on his pack and stared up at the stars; the little band of Archaeologists had it spot on. He almost knew who the 'fifth prophet' would be - but certainly wouldn't reveal that; here and now. Libby sighed; "It seems to me that God changes his mind a lot for an infallible Deity. All the 'desert' religions are similar, but with some really major differences. If we weren't taught better, then I would say, that some sort of coup d'état's took place and the ruling Deity changed." She chuckled and finished her coffee, adding; "I have no evidence for that, of course. But it would be interesting; wouldn't it?"
Jericho really had to restrain himself, from telling her just how close she had come to the truth. He believed that the fifth prophet would appear in the 21st century and they would point the religious towards the Dark Prince; who could well be; the new ruling deity. He also wouldn't mention, that all four 'Prophets' were the same person; the eldest son and heir of the current ruler. The young man changed his idea's for humanity, like someone changed their socks!
Little wonder that he and his father had separated; they had very different idea's for humanity. Then, of course, there was the Dark Prince, whose followers were slowly infiltrating the minds of humanity. Slowly getting them to cast away their own thoughts and wishes, to conform with the herd. They were slowly throwing away individual 'Freewill' using their own freewill!
Clever that. But the young Prince was clever and cunning, playing the long term game. He would drop the fifth 'Prophet' upon humanity and they would follow like sheep into the oblivion of single thought and mindset. There would be no individual thoughts allowed; everyone would think like everyone else - right or wrong - or be destroyed. Like Nazi's, they would truly believe they - and only they - were right. Little wonder all the prophets referred to humanity as sheep and God as the Shepherd; provided that God was the Dark Prince, in this case.
The Dark Prince had always advocated removing the divine gift of freewill from humans - in his eyes - they didn't deserve it and should be returned to the 'animal' state of existence. Now, he had them doing that very procedure to themselves!
Jericho actually chuckled out loud at his thoughts; that drew strange looks from everyone. He just smiled. That's when he saw Owen gesturing to him; they had visitors. That's when they all heard the dull explosion from the other end of 'horseshoe' and the distant falling of rocks. Someone had set off explosions at the old site. Jericho rubbed his chin; Someone was really making sure that Anebos's tomb was buried.
5. THE SEIGE.
Steve and Jericho joined Owen behind the rocks, on the edge of the small ridge and watched as the two Bedouin approached, under a white flag, tied to an ancient looking rifle. Steve grunted and wiped his face; "Pound to a penny, they know we have the girls and horses. First they'll offer to trade, then when we tell them to piss off; they'll attack. it's way they do business around here." Jericho scratched his chain and placed his rifle down; "Let's hear what they have to say." Steve also placed his rifle down and the three were joined by Wilson.
"I wonder if they speak English or even French, though my French isn't that good, despite living in France for three shitty years." Steve smiled and the pair made their way down the slope for a few yards and stopped. To Steve's utter surprise, Jericho called to the two Bedouins in their own language. Steve smiled; now he knew why the oil company had engaged him; few white people had bothered to master the Bedouin language over the years the country had been colonised by European powers.
It certainly made the two Arabs stop in their tracks; Jericho repeated his greeting and asked what they wanted at this time of night. There was silence for a while and then the much older man grinned and asked if the white masters wished to sell their horses and women. He held up a small goatskin bag and stated that it contained, at least a Hundred Pounds in Sterling - not Egyptian - and that's what he offered for the horses and the girls. Jericho translated what was said to Steve, who snorted; "Bloody Alex is worth five times that on her own. Tell them they're the thieving bastard sons of camel dung dealers."
Jericho's reply was somewhat more diplomatic. He told the old man that neither the horses or women were for sale; but thanks for the generous offer. The old man kept grinning and held up another goatskin bag, which he claimed - with Allah's blessing - contained at least another hundred pounds. When Jericho translated that for Steve; he pulled a grim expression; "Somehow the fuckers must have seen Alex, they wouldn't offer that sort of money without seeing the goods first. I smell a large rat."
That's when they heard the shots coming from the other side of the ridge; Tom and Barny had engaged a group of Bedouin trying to outflank them, using the 'talks' as cover. Steve and Jericho dropped to sand, as their two Arabs pointed their rifles at them; shouting and swearing in Bedouin. A bullet thudded into the sand next to Jericho's head. Then the two Arabs came under fire from Wilson and Owen. One dropped to the dirt without a word. The other fled back down the ridge; shouting for his colleagues to attack the white dogs.
Jericho and Steve made it back to Owen and Wilson, snatching up their rifles; Jericho told Wilson to support Tom and Barny and crouching low, Wilson disappeared. The Bedouin made easy targets coming up the ridge and two were dropped by Steve and Owen. The rest retreated, taking one man with them; the other lay quite still amongst the rocks. Only Owen and Jericho could see the collector - Big Yoki - gathering up two souls. He gave a little wave and was gone, with the two bewildered men in tow; they had never met a Chinese man before or been dead before!
Steve wondered where Jericho had served - in the war - probably an officer - like he had been. He had no doubts now, why the oil company had hired him. The firing on the flank had stopped. Steve reasoned that the Bedouin chief would be weighing up the profit margins for this little skirmish; he wouldn't have expected the 'English dogs' to have so much fire power. He was probably deciding how many men were worth losing, to get his hands on the girls and horses. So, what would he do?
Alex appeared amongst them - unsmiling - she had her pistol out. Steve was now really impressed, until she told them that old Barny had been hit. The bullet had gone through his throat and he died quite quickly. With Steve present, she couldn't tell Jericho and Owen, that Kath the Collector had taken him. Steve restrained from cursing and just nodded sadly; he had seen too many of his friends killed in the war, but still wasn't use to it.
"How many did we get?" He asked Alex, who said quietly; "Two, but one was dragged away - wounded I think - the other is still lying on the sand." She also didn't say, that Kath had picked him up too. "How's the ammo?" Jericho asked; they had about a dozen rounds each and Alex had four bullets left in her 'Smith & Weston'. She gripped Steve by the arm - he loved her touch - and said; "Go and speak to Libby, she's quite distraught over seeing Barny killed, go on." He nodded and slipped away.
Owen lay back and said quietly; "Now, what the fuck do we do?" Jericho gestured to the ridge above them; "Come the morning, they'll work their way up there and try and pick us off; so we need to get up there before them." Jericho stared down the ridge; what were the fuckers up to? They had been surprised by the strength of the resistance; they wouldn't make that mistake again. He told Owen and Alex to hold here and slipped back to camp to find Steve and explain what they needed to do.
Steve agreed with Jericho's thinking; He wondered if 'Jerry' had been a Captain or maybe, even a Colonel in the War? He certainly knew his tactics and had a real cool head under fire. Steve lead the party - really quietly - up the ridge's tight path. The horse struggled, but made it. The mule walked up with little effort, Barny's body on his back; covered in a canvas sheet. They would have to bury the old man quickly; in the heat of day and on a bare ridge, he would become quite unpleasant very quickly. Jericho and Wilson held the rear, until signalled by Alex, that they had arrived safely.
They found a sheltered clef in the rocks and settled in; they all had some water, which would become quite scare - quickly - in the heat of day. In the early morning sunshine, they could see clearly, the Bedouin camp below them - placed well out of the range of their rifles - and Jericho counted heads; at least twenty, maybe twenty five. Steve was really impressed, when Jericho then counted the horses and camels he could see. Again, the figure was about twenty five. He did the maths; they had downed just three - confirmed dead - and maybe two were wounded. They were badly outnumbered, low on ammunition and more importantly; low on water.
"They have spread about nine men around the ridge, closing off our escape. I think they won't attack again. They'll just sit and wait; let heat and thirst do their work for them. The Chief is probably an old warrior, he won't waste men; if he doesn't have too." Jericho explained the situation and Owen, gripping his rifle closely, nodded; "You mean we're under bloody siege?" Jericho said 'Yes' quietly.
Steve had his arm around the quiet Libby, still a little shocked by seeing old Barny killed, but watched Alex carefully. He licked his dry lips; that was some women, if the fucking Bedouin had seen her, they definitely wouldn't call it quits. Some rich Sheikh would pay, maybe, a thousand pounds - Sterling - for her; easily. The Chief wouldn't pass up that sort of money, when all he had to do was sit and wait; unfortunately, the Bedouin were known for their patience.
Wilson called out - he was on watch - and raised his rifle; "Another one is coming up the ridge under a white flag!" Jericho and Steve scrambled over to him; they were ready for any tricks now. The old man stood with his rifle gripped in both hands; a white cloth tied around the end. He spoke good English; "My friends this is silly. You know we can sit here and wait. That's all we have to do, you are going nowhere." He gestured up to the blazing sun; "Allah's gift will drive you down. But, I need to be somewhere else soon, so I make you an offer, are you listening my friends?
Jericho shouted down that he was listening; in the old man's native tongue. That made the old Chief smile. "You are clearly blessed with intelligence my friend. You speak our language well. I would not be happy killing such a man. So listen to reason my friend. Send the beauty down - alone - and I will let you take your horses and go in peace. She will not be harmed, for she has much value. My old friend Sheikh Mohamed Malik would pay much gold for her, if delivered unharmed. So I give you my word that all I say is true. I say this before Allah."
Jericho rubbed his chin; making such an oath meant that the Chief would keep his word. For some reason that set alarm bells off. He turned quietly to Owen; "Discretely check your mirror for that Sheikh, something is very wrong here. How did they know about Alex? No-one has seen her - except us and the Archaeologists..." He stopped in mid sentence; "Also check Ali Hussain, the boatman who bought us here from Cairo docks. We picked up that damn boat really easily in that crowded docks. Too easily." He muttered and Owen hurried away to find a quite corner to operate his mirror.
Jericho shouted down to the chief that he needed time to discuss it with the others. The chief nodded and returned to his encampment. Alex wasn't happy; "What do you bloody mean; discuss it? It's bloody not up for discussion!" Jericho patted her face and smiled; "Alexandra, trust me, we are not about to trade you in."
6. THE MIRICLE AT DUSK.
Steve grinned at Alex's unhappy face, gesturing down to the Bedouin camp. "If we traded you, they would parade you naked before the fighting men - so they could all see what they have been fighting for - and the wily old Chief would tell them just how much money you could fetch for the tribe; less his personal commission, of course. They certainly wouldn't touch you; your worth too much." He chuckled and slapped his rifle; "But of course, we're not trading you in!" Alex just stuck a middle finger and wandered off, keeping low to find Libby. Steve sat back and wiped his face, muttering under his breath; "What a fucking woman. If I had that sort of money, I would bloody buy her, never mind the bloody natives." Now that thought did make him smile, but he desperately needed a drink; a real strong one.
Jericho joined Wilson behind the clump of rocks that served as the guard post. They had clear views all round and sat watching the Bedouin going about their business below. "A couple more joined them a few minutes ago; they were carrying goatskins - water I expect - and they changed the guards exactly every two hours. Do they carry watches?" Wilson spoke softly and shifted on the sheet of canvas, that Steve had given him to sit on.
"I don't know if they do. But we're about to hit the tipping point here. We have water, for say, another day or so." Jericho said quietly. He leaned back and stared at their meagre encampment. Wilson chuckled; "They certainly pray a lot. They seem a very superstitious bunch of people. I watched one throwing dirt over his shoulder because a vulture flew over him." Jericho stared back down at the Bedouin camp and rubbed his chin. "Your right about that Wilson, they really are." Wilson stared at him; "You've got a bloody idea haven't you? I can tell by that look on your face." Jericho just nodded and slipped away.
He met up with Owen, who was on watch at the other flank of the ridge; he had just relieved Steve. "What have you got for me?" Jericho asked and Owen grinned. "You're like an old bloodhound. Sheikh Mohamed Malik may show himself as a follower of Islam, but he's a devotee of the Dark Prince alright. He has quite a little cell [of devil Worshippers] hanging around his campfires. One, we know as Kiri [the demon] in human form. That's his master here. Then our humourless boatman Ali Hussain, is a fully paid up member of the Dark Prince's fan club."
Jericho nodded and smiled; "Do you think, that bastard Kiri really wants to please his master and get hold of something that he [the Dark Prince] badly wants?" They both stared at Alex, who with Libby, was making coffee around a pathetic looking fire. Owen nodded. "I think your right Jericho." They both chuckled and Jericho rubbed his face. "Do you know, I think its time we called the Calvary. We have a Demon hanging around and that would justify his presence here."
Owen gripped his rife; "And, if you just happen to mention, that the Dark Prince may make an attempt to get her, he would be here in a flash." Jericho smiled; "I think at sunset, our very superstitious friends down there [the Bedouin camp] will have something to tell their grandchildren about. Of course, no one else will believe what they saw." Owen was now intrigued. What on earth did Jericho have up his sleeve and how was James a part of it? [James is a Knight of God].
Jericho found a quiet spot and operated his mirror; he asked the Duty Controller to put him through - directly - to James. They spoke for a few minutes and Jericho really did smile; he knew damn well that James would agree. He only had to mention Alex and the Dark Prince in the same sentence. He was still chuckling to himself as he joined Alex, Libby and Steve around the camp fire.
They sat in relative silence and sipped their strong hot coffee. Alex leaned over him and said quietly; "Wilson says you have an idea. Any clues?" She smiled. Jericho looked up at the fading son and sighed; "I think our Bedouin friends will be disappearing into the darkness very soon and we can just wander off this bloody ridge and down to the river." He made sure that Steve and Libby didn't hear him. Alex sat back and slowly sipped her coffee. This has to be a cracker; just by the look on Jericho's face!
Jericho arranged for only his team, to be manning the lookout posts, and Steve, Libby and Tom were sleeping against the shelf of the ridge. He consulted his mirror and smiled; he hadn't seen James in full costume for some time. He suddenly remembered that mission and chuckled to himself. He couldn't take credit for the idea; old 'Doc' Underhill - his old Inspector and mentor - had come up with it some years back. It had worked a treat then and should do again tonight.
Jericho waited until the sun was touching the horizon and darkness was creeping in across the desert. The Bedouin would be around their campfires; eating and talking. He whispered into his mirror; "Go!" and leaned on some rocks to watch the show.
The light started to grow above the ridge and Jericho could see the men of the Bedouin rising from their campfires and staring at the sky, as the light grew intense. Their camels were jumping about and making all sorts of noise. That's when he stepped from the light. The figure was about fifteen feet tall and clad in shimmering white armour. Held above his head was a magnificent sword of silver. He vigorously swept his sword from left to right, slowly walking towards the Bedouin encampment.
The effect was electric; the Bedouin ran screaming for their lives, followed by their camels. In, maybe, just a minute or so; there was not a single Bedouin warrior to be seen. They had all witnessed an Angel. Then the 'Angel' was gone.
Knights of God can be any size they want; their main adversaries - Tier One Demons - often appear as huge reptilian beasts, when not in human form. These fights are the basis of legends like 'George & the Dragon'. And, of course, they do like to wear their armour!
James absolutely loved this little pantomime.
Jericho walked over and woke up the Archaeologists; "They're gone. Something must have scared the buggers off." Was all Jericho told the amazed trio, who started to pack up their small possessions quickly. Wilson stood next to Alex and Owen and chuckled, he shook his head in real respect; "Now I see, why he's regarded as the best Inspector in the department; after old 'Doc' of course."
Owen shook his head; "No, he's the best. Period." Alex couldn't disagree with either of them!
The small group made their way down to the river; they would follow the river up to the British Garrison, some thirty miles south of El Sharma. But Alex [and Libby] insisted on a dip in the Nile. They were filthy, covered in sweat and admitted being quite 'ripe'. Wilson and Steve volunteered to do 'crocodile watch' and sat on the bank; rifles at the ready. The girls found a large clump of reeds and stripped; they plunged into the water, like children playing in a paddling pool. The two men caught the odd glimpse of pink flesh, when the moonlight caught the women, as they bathed in the cool water.
"You've a real brave little beauty there, mate." Wilson slapped Steve on the shoulder - meaning Libby - but Steve was thinking of Alex. "Yes, I sure do." He mumbled in reply. He needed a drink desperately and water just wouldn't do.
7. FORT ALLENBY.
They made the fort the following afternoon and reported the native insurrection and destruction of Museum property to the British Commander. They also reported the sad death of old 'Barny' - Barnstable Coles - and gave the location of where he was buried. The Commander was a young Colonel, who had served on the Western Front, in the recent 'Great War'. He was scared down his left cheek, left arm and torso. He had been a little too close to a shell, which killed all the other men around him at the time.
Colonel Simon Hayward-Jones sat at his desk and listened with little interest to the Archaeologists and Oli prospectors. He didn't even offer them tea or coffee, but told his adjutant; Captain Bob Bullstrode to find the 'civilians' somewhere to doss, until passage back to Cairo could be arranged. He told Jericho and Steve that the renegade Bedouin were already in his gunsights, for a couple of raids on Christian villages, just North of El Sharma. They had stolen horses and women.
"It's like the bloody wild west around here. But that's the first time the Bedouin have attacked an old burial ground. That intrigues me. They would know there's nothing of value there. So why jump on some poor bloody Archaeologists?" Captain Bob said, as he showed Steve and Jericho some rooms, next to the officers mess, that they could 'doss' in. That's when he saw Alex and Libby standing by the horse's, in the large parade ground. He stopped and almost smiled; "You say your colleague is a Doctor, Mr. Tibbs?"
Jericho nodded. The Captain chuckled; "Normally around here, a good horse is worth a hundred women to the Bedouin. Except that one. She's worth a small fortune. Beautiful, intelligent and has guts. You can make a fortune selling her." Jericho smiled; "Yeah, we found that one out, the hard way." That did make the Captain laugh. He told the pair to use the officers mess and dinning room. He did mention that the food was quite plain, but there was plenty of it. He strolled off, shouting for a certain Sergeant Ames.
Everyone made themselves comfortable in the rooms they had been given. Alex and Libby were sharing a little room with just two beds. Steve and Tom had a small one, overlooking the Parade ground. Jericho, Wilson and Owen had quite a large room; it had six bunks fitted in, and from the window, they could see the river. Wilson jumped on the bare bed and smiled; "Some brandy and some good grub and I'll be happy as a pig in shit." He told Owen, who sat on his bed, watching the river, through the window.
"Apparently some young Lieutenant is taking a troop of Calvary out - after those Bedouin - according to sergeant Ames, they have become a real problem." Owen said and laid back on the bed. He sat back up and chuckled; "Oh, and he asked if Alex was married!" Wilson just shook his head; "Jesus, she's gonna need a bigger flame at this rate." Jericho was discretely checking his mirror, when Steve appeared in the doorway. He looked awful. He just asked Jericho - outright - to lend him some money. The officer's bar was open.
Steve Watson was at the end of his tether, when, having consumed the best part of a bottle of whisky, he walked into the river. His notebook was destroyed because of the translations it contained. Alex never did read his final words to her. Had she done so, they would have told her, about how much he loved Libby and that he would not ruin her young life - by her becoming involved with him - a drunk and a loser in his mind - and hoped that Alex could talk sense to her. Steve had no idea, that Libby would have taken him, regardless of the state he was in. His soul was collected and processed.
Elizabeth Styles [Libby] left Egypt some months later and returned to England. She taught school and married a fellow school teacher; she had three children and died in 1961. Her two grand daughters fought over the big bag, that their beloved grandmother always kept, but never used. It was now a treasured family heirloom and reminder of a much loved Grandmother. They sometimes would flick through their grandmothers little notebook from 1922, that she always kept in the bag. They had no idea how important their grandmothers scribbled notes were! The notebook remains in the bag to this day; safely held by Libby's great, great granddaughter [also called Elizabeth or 'Libby']. Her soul was collected and processed. She now works as a Collector and counts Alex as a good friend.
Barnstable Coles [Barny] was killed on the ridge during the siege - he had refused to use a rifle - his body was never recovered and remains there to this day. At the time of his death, he had no remaining family. His soul was collected and processed.
Thomas Culpepper [Tom] remained in Egypt working for the Egyptian Department of Antiquities until the outbreak of the Second World War. Too old for military service; he drove an ambulance. He was killed in a traffic accident in Cairo, in 1951, whilst working as a photographer for a local paper. He had never married - after Libby had turned him down - all those years ago - but did leave certain papers and journals to his estranged brother John. They remain in the hands of John's descendants to this day; overlooked and forgotten. His soul was collected and processed.
Muhamad Achmed Karra [Dig supervisor] became quite a radical follower of Islam and was murdered by rival's, who feared his rise to power in their small group of activists, in 1929. His soul was collected and processed.
Ali Hussain [the Team's boatman] professed to be a devout Muslim, but was a follower of the Dark Prince. He died in 1948 from untreated cancer. His soul was collected and quarantined until 2050.
Muhamad Wass [Steve & Libby's Boatman] remained a boatman on the river Nile until his death in 1949. He was fondly remembered by his family and friends because of his good nature. His soul was collected and processed.
Sheikh Mohamed Malik died in quite mysterious circumstances in 1926. It was widely rumoured that his eldest son [of the same name] had murdered his father to assume power. There was no soul collected; it was believed that he had given his soul to the Dark Side. It remains missing to this day.
Colonel Simon Hayward-Jones remained in the British Army and served in many other senior positions around the British Empire. He never made it beyond the rank of Colonel. He died, in India, in 1934 of an unspecified fever. His soul was collected and processed.
Captain Robert 'Bob' Bullstrode retired from the army in 1929 - just in time for the Great Depression - and couldn't find work. He landed on very hard times. On a bright sunny July morning, in a dingy one roomed flat in Manchester, he took his old service revolver and shot himself. His soul was collected and processed.
Sergeant Richard Ames was killed on a dirt road outside Cairo, just months after the Temporal Detectives visit, He was riding his motorbike at some speed - drunk - when he struck a camel, that wandered in front of him. His soul was collected and processed. The camel survived the accident.
Professor Lionel Caspro [Cairo Museum] never received the package Libby intended he should have. The pair never met again - after Libby left Egypt - and thus, never heard the strange tale of Anebos or saw the hieroglyphs on his tomb wall. He died in 1932 from cancer. His soul was collected and processed.
Jericho joined Wilson behind the clump of rocks that served as the guard post. They had clear views all round and sat watching the Bedouin going about their business below. "A couple more joined them a few minutes ago; they were carrying goatskins - water I expect - and they changed the guards exactly every two hours. Do they carry watches?" Wilson spoke softly and shifted on the sheet of canvas, that Steve had given him to sit on.
"I don't know if they do. But we're about to hit the tipping point here. We have water, for say, another day or so." Jericho said quietly. He leaned back and stared at their meagre encampment. Wilson chuckled; "They certainly pray a lot. They seem a very superstitious bunch of people. I watched one throwing dirt over his shoulder because a vulture flew over him." Jericho stared back down at the Bedouin camp and rubbed his chin. "Your right about that Wilson, they really are." Wilson stared at him; "You've got a bloody idea haven't you? I can tell by that look on your face." Jericho just nodded and slipped away.
He met up with Owen, who was on watch at the other flank of the ridge; he had just relieved Steve. "What have you got for me?" Jericho asked and Owen grinned. "You're like an old bloodhound. Sheikh Mohamed Malik may show himself as a follower of Islam, but he's a devotee of the Dark Prince alright. He has quite a little cell [of devil Worshippers] hanging around his campfires. One, we know as Kiri [the demon] in human form. That's his master here. Then our humourless boatman Ali Hussain, is a fully paid up member of the Dark Prince's fan club."
Jericho nodded and smiled; "Do you think, that bastard Kiri really wants to please his master and get hold of something that he [the Dark Prince] badly wants?" They both stared at Alex, who with Libby, was making coffee around a pathetic looking fire. Owen nodded. "I think your right Jericho." They both chuckled and Jericho rubbed his face. "Do you know, I think its time we called the Calvary. We have a Demon hanging around and that would justify his presence here."
Owen gripped his rife; "And, if you just happen to mention, that the Dark Prince may make an attempt to get her, he would be here in a flash." Jericho smiled; "I think at sunset, our very superstitious friends down there [the Bedouin camp] will have something to tell their grandchildren about. Of course, no one else will believe what they saw." Owen was now intrigued. What on earth did Jericho have up his sleeve and how was James a part of it? [James is a Knight of God].
Jericho found a quiet spot and operated his mirror; he asked the Duty Controller to put him through - directly - to James. They spoke for a few minutes and Jericho really did smile; he knew damn well that James would agree. He only had to mention Alex and the Dark Prince in the same sentence. He was still chuckling to himself as he joined Alex, Libby and Steve around the camp fire.
They sat in relative silence and sipped their strong hot coffee. Alex leaned over him and said quietly; "Wilson says you have an idea. Any clues?" She smiled. Jericho looked up at the fading son and sighed; "I think our Bedouin friends will be disappearing into the darkness very soon and we can just wander off this bloody ridge and down to the river." He made sure that Steve and Libby didn't hear him. Alex sat back and slowly sipped her coffee. This has to be a cracker; just by the look on Jericho's face!
Jericho arranged for only his team, to be manning the lookout posts, and Steve, Libby and Tom were sleeping against the shelf of the ridge. He consulted his mirror and smiled; he hadn't seen James in full costume for some time. He suddenly remembered that mission and chuckled to himself. He couldn't take credit for the idea; old 'Doc' Underhill - his old Inspector and mentor - had come up with it some years back. It had worked a treat then and should do again tonight.
Jericho waited until the sun was touching the horizon and darkness was creeping in across the desert. The Bedouin would be around their campfires; eating and talking. He whispered into his mirror; "Go!" and leaned on some rocks to watch the show.
The light started to grow above the ridge and Jericho could see the men of the Bedouin rising from their campfires and staring at the sky, as the light grew intense. Their camels were jumping about and making all sorts of noise. That's when he stepped from the light. The figure was about fifteen feet tall and clad in shimmering white armour. Held above his head was a magnificent sword of silver. He vigorously swept his sword from left to right, slowly walking towards the Bedouin encampment.
The effect was electric; the Bedouin ran screaming for their lives, followed by their camels. In, maybe, just a minute or so; there was not a single Bedouin warrior to be seen. They had all witnessed an Angel. Then the 'Angel' was gone.
Knights of God can be any size they want; their main adversaries - Tier One Demons - often appear as huge reptilian beasts, when not in human form. These fights are the basis of legends like 'George & the Dragon'. And, of course, they do like to wear their armour!
James absolutely loved this little pantomime.
Jericho walked over and woke up the Archaeologists; "They're gone. Something must have scared the buggers off." Was all Jericho told the amazed trio, who started to pack up their small possessions quickly. Wilson stood next to Alex and Owen and chuckled, he shook his head in real respect; "Now I see, why he's regarded as the best Inspector in the department; after old 'Doc' of course."
Owen shook his head; "No, he's the best. Period." Alex couldn't disagree with either of them!
The small group made their way down to the river; they would follow the river up to the British Garrison, some thirty miles south of El Sharma. But Alex [and Libby] insisted on a dip in the Nile. They were filthy, covered in sweat and admitted being quite 'ripe'. Wilson and Steve volunteered to do 'crocodile watch' and sat on the bank; rifles at the ready. The girls found a large clump of reeds and stripped; they plunged into the water, like children playing in a paddling pool. The two men caught the odd glimpse of pink flesh, when the moonlight caught the women, as they bathed in the cool water.
"You've a real brave little beauty there, mate." Wilson slapped Steve on the shoulder - meaning Libby - but Steve was thinking of Alex. "Yes, I sure do." He mumbled in reply. He needed a drink desperately and water just wouldn't do.
7. FORT ALLENBY.
They made the fort the following afternoon and reported the native insurrection and destruction of Museum property to the British Commander. They also reported the sad death of old 'Barny' - Barnstable Coles - and gave the location of where he was buried. The Commander was a young Colonel, who had served on the Western Front, in the recent 'Great War'. He was scared down his left cheek, left arm and torso. He had been a little too close to a shell, which killed all the other men around him at the time.
Colonel Simon Hayward-Jones sat at his desk and listened with little interest to the Archaeologists and Oli prospectors. He didn't even offer them tea or coffee, but told his adjutant; Captain Bob Bullstrode to find the 'civilians' somewhere to doss, until passage back to Cairo could be arranged. He told Jericho and Steve that the renegade Bedouin were already in his gunsights, for a couple of raids on Christian villages, just North of El Sharma. They had stolen horses and women.
"It's like the bloody wild west around here. But that's the first time the Bedouin have attacked an old burial ground. That intrigues me. They would know there's nothing of value there. So why jump on some poor bloody Archaeologists?" Captain Bob said, as he showed Steve and Jericho some rooms, next to the officers mess, that they could 'doss' in. That's when he saw Alex and Libby standing by the horse's, in the large parade ground. He stopped and almost smiled; "You say your colleague is a Doctor, Mr. Tibbs?"
Jericho nodded. The Captain chuckled; "Normally around here, a good horse is worth a hundred women to the Bedouin. Except that one. She's worth a small fortune. Beautiful, intelligent and has guts. You can make a fortune selling her." Jericho smiled; "Yeah, we found that one out, the hard way." That did make the Captain laugh. He told the pair to use the officers mess and dinning room. He did mention that the food was quite plain, but there was plenty of it. He strolled off, shouting for a certain Sergeant Ames.
Everyone made themselves comfortable in the rooms they had been given. Alex and Libby were sharing a little room with just two beds. Steve and Tom had a small one, overlooking the Parade ground. Jericho, Wilson and Owen had quite a large room; it had six bunks fitted in, and from the window, they could see the river. Wilson jumped on the bare bed and smiled; "Some brandy and some good grub and I'll be happy as a pig in shit." He told Owen, who sat on his bed, watching the river, through the window.
"Apparently some young Lieutenant is taking a troop of Calvary out - after those Bedouin - according to sergeant Ames, they have become a real problem." Owen said and laid back on the bed. He sat back up and chuckled; "Oh, and he asked if Alex was married!" Wilson just shook his head; "Jesus, she's gonna need a bigger flame at this rate." Jericho was discretely checking his mirror, when Steve appeared in the doorway. He looked awful. He just asked Jericho - outright - to lend him some money. The officer's bar was open.
Jericho gave him a couple of Egyptian Pounds and Steve swore blind, that he would repay him; soon as they reach Cairo. He pushed the notes into his shirt pocket and then stopped in the doorway; "The Colonel's arranged for us to travel up to Cairo on their little supple steamer. It should dock tomorrow morning, then leaves in the afternoon, reaching Cairo about midnight. The little boat carries the men's mail and booze to restock the bars, that's real important around here." He said and headed straight for the bar.
Wilson sighed; "That stupid bastard is drinking himself to an early grave." That's when they saw Libby standing in the doorway. She held a hand over her face and ran down the corridor; to cry.
"Oops." Was all Wilson muttered and some minutes later, Alex came in and sat next to him. "Now what's on the agenda?" She asked Jericho, who quietly closed the door. "There's still a record, of what was painted on that bloody tomb wall. Apparently, some Belgium Photographer took pictures of the walls back in the 1860's and the file has gone missing from Cairo Museum archives. So, our problem is still out there."
"Don't forget, there's still the translation that the piss head Steve made, and has in his notebook." Owen lay back, hands behind head, staring up at the dull, whitewashed ceiling. Wilson grunted; "That's a good point. We need to get hold of that notebook." Jericho rubbed his chin; "Do you think you can get it?" He smiled at Alex, who just sighed and folded her arms. "I don't want to mess up anything that may happen between him and Libby; she's his only hope really."
"That's true, but does the drunken fucker know that?" Wilson said quietly and stared out the window. There but for the grace of god, he thought and everyone turned to the soft knock on their door. It opened slowly and a distraught looking Libby stood there, shaking a little and wiping her face; unsurprisingly, she asked for Alex. The two girls returned to their room, Alex with her arm about Libby. "He's a fucking idiot, if he fucks that up." Wilson said and no one disagreed with him.
That's when they heard a gong being banged in the corridor; it was lunch time. They made their way to the officer's dining room; the expectation of food - any food - was alluring. They found Tom already sitting at a table; he didn't look happy. A steward bought him a plate of food and Tom picked up a fork and poked at it. he looked up and smiled as the boys joined him. "Shepherd's pie and cabbage." Was all he said.
"That's do me nicely." Owen rubbed his hands together and sat next to him. Wilson and Jericho dropped into the seats opposite. "Any bloody food will do you." Wilson murmured and smiled. The steward served their food without any comments and Owen filled up the glasses from the water jug. "He must have conned someone into giving him money; he's in the bar already." Tom said quietly and replaced his fork back on the table. Jericho lifted a hand and didn't smile.
"What a fucking waste; he's about the best Archaeologist I've ever worked with." Tom muttered and picked up his fork - again. They ate their meals in relative silence. Alex walked into the dinning room and sat down. The several officers, at the other tables, all rose from their seats, until Alex sat down - now with a small smile on her face - and the steward was there immediately and gave her a plate. "At least there are some gentlemen around here." She muttered and sipped her water glass. "How's Libby?" Tom asked and Alex shrugged her shoulders and didn't smile. Tom grunted; he knew what she meant.
They could overhear the officers conversations, talking amongst themselves. It appears the major topic of chat, was the 'Angel's' appearance! The officers were really laughing about that. Jericho smiled at his team; whatever the Bedouin claimed happened, would simply not be believed; by rational men. That's when they could hear the shouting and disturbance from the officers bar. They all rose and headed that way; followed by a couple of senior officers.
A Bar steward stood in the corridor, arms on hips, looking very unhappy. He spoke directly to the Captain, who still held his dinner napkin. "Sir, the bastard just grabbed the bottle off the table and ran for it!" He shook his head in disbelief. Jericho nodded to the captain; "I'll see to it. He has real problems From the war." The captain sighed and nodded. Jericho added; "I'll make good the cost of the bottle." He gave the bar steward three pounds; which was more than enough, for the whisky.
The captain wiped his hands on the napkin and said softly; "Most of us have those fucking problems, but we don't turn into drunken thieves. That's not the way of an English gentlemen." He returned to his lunch. "Let's find the stupid fucker." Was all Wilson said.
8. DEATH ON THE NILE.
They simply couldn't find Steve anywhere. Owen and Wilson even tried the stables with no result. Tom and Libby went to the small dock and made inquiries there, again with nothing to show for their efforts. Jericho and Alex were allowed onto the ramparts and could view the entire camp and surrounding area from there. Nothing.
Is was two young native fisherman, working the river by the fort that reported finding the body in the water, that late afternoon. They had dragged it onto their boat and landed it at the docks. The small group headed for the docks with Captain Bullstrode and an ambulance. The body laid sprawled on the concrete and Tom walked Libby away from it and stood together behind the ambulance. She was sobbing. Alex, with Wilson's help, turned the body over. It was Steve. He had drowned, whilst drunk apparently.
Alex said he had been dead for about two or three hours. Discretely, Wilson removed the notebook from Steve's shirt pocket. The captain ordered his men to take the body back to the fort and hand it over to the Doctor at the small military hospital. They watched the ambulance depart; Tom and Libby accompanied their friends body back. Owen tapped his mirror; "Raj made the collection about two hours ago. So Alex was spot on with the time of departure [death] - as she usually is."
Wilson was reading the damp notebook. He sighed and held it out to Alex; "He wrote something for you before he walked into the water. It was quite deliberate, I'm afraid. He killed himself." Alex stared at the notebook and shook her head, whispering; "No thank you. I won't." Wilson nodded and thrust it into his jacket pocket.
Owen stared back at the fort; "All we need now are those bloody photographs and we can all go home." Wilson smiled slightly; "Amen to that baby brother." They climbed into the staff car and the soldier driver headed back to the fort. Jericho had given the young fisherman a couple of Egyptian pounds for bringing the body in. They were more than happy with that. The team returned to the fort in silence.
"Libby's in quite a state, she's lost two good friends in the space of a few days. I managed to borrow some sedatives off the hospital doctor - he's a lovely old fella - and that should help her sleep." Alex was sipping a glass of brandy and the team sat quietly in the officer's bar. They had invited Tom, but he wanted to stay with Libby. "I've been through his meagre possessions and the bloody photographs weren't there. Where the hell can they be?" Owen relaxed in his rattan chair and pulled the cushion about. "It has to be Libby, she was with him at the Cairo Museum Archives. She has to have them." He added, now comfortable.
"I don't like to ask this Alexandra; but once she's sedated, can you have a look in that big bag, she's so fond of." Jericho said quietly, peering at Alex over the top of his brandy glass. Alex nodded slowly, but said nothing. Wilson rolled his brandy glass around in his big hands and smiled a little; "I hope Tom will look after young Libby. She needs a real friend right now." Everyone agreed with that sentiment.
They all looked up when the young Corporal appeared at their table; he was the Orderly Room Clerk for the company at the fort. He stood quietly at the table and said softly to Jericho; "I am sorry to disturb you sir, but may I have a word." Jericho nodded and sipped his brandy. The soldier said quietly; "It's about the young lady Sir. She put this in the post box - in the Orderly Room - but I'm afraid, she didn't put any stamps upon it. So the post service won't take it." He held up a A4 brown envelope.
Jericho held open his hand and said, with a smile; "That's fine Corporal. I'll see that she gets it, when she's recovered." The Corporal hesitated, then slapped the envelope into Jericho's outstretched hand; he was just relieved to get rid of the small problem. He turned smartly on his heels and walked away. Everyone just looked at each other. "I won't take any bets on what this envelope contains." Was all Jericho muttered. Everyone chuckled quietly.
They walked back to the lighthouse in quite good spirits. Owen asked - out of pure interest - who the envelope was addressed too. Jericho smiled; "A certain professor Lionel Caspro at Cairo Museum. He's an acknowledged expert on Hieroglyphs and he certainly would have been capable of translating Anebos's story and revealing it to the world." Wilson grunted; "Also, purely out of interest, why wasn't his story allowed out into the world?"
Jericho held up both hands; "The world is not ready to hear about yet another prophet of God. Look what has happened, with the other bloody three!" Everyone had to smile at that. the dinner conversation that night was certainly quite lively.
EPILOGUE:
"This mission left a little bad taste in the mouths of the Team; they really didn't like being a party to a 'cover-up'. Nevertheless, the mission was considered a success; Anebos story remains hidden from humanity - for now."
"This mission left a little bad taste in the mouths of the Team; they really didn't like being a party to a 'cover-up'. Nevertheless, the mission was considered a success; Anebos story remains hidden from humanity - for now."
W.A.S.
CHARACTERS:
Elizabeth Styles [Libby] left Egypt some months later and returned to England. She taught school and married a fellow school teacher; she had three children and died in 1961. Her two grand daughters fought over the big bag, that their beloved grandmother always kept, but never used. It was now a treasured family heirloom and reminder of a much loved Grandmother. They sometimes would flick through their grandmothers little notebook from 1922, that she always kept in the bag. They had no idea how important their grandmothers scribbled notes were! The notebook remains in the bag to this day; safely held by Libby's great, great granddaughter [also called Elizabeth or 'Libby']. Her soul was collected and processed. She now works as a Collector and counts Alex as a good friend.
Barnstable Coles [Barny] was killed on the ridge during the siege - he had refused to use a rifle - his body was never recovered and remains there to this day. At the time of his death, he had no remaining family. His soul was collected and processed.
Thomas Culpepper [Tom] remained in Egypt working for the Egyptian Department of Antiquities until the outbreak of the Second World War. Too old for military service; he drove an ambulance. He was killed in a traffic accident in Cairo, in 1951, whilst working as a photographer for a local paper. He had never married - after Libby had turned him down - all those years ago - but did leave certain papers and journals to his estranged brother John. They remain in the hands of John's descendants to this day; overlooked and forgotten. His soul was collected and processed.
Muhamad Achmed Karra [Dig supervisor] became quite a radical follower of Islam and was murdered by rival's, who feared his rise to power in their small group of activists, in 1929. His soul was collected and processed.
Ali Hussain [the Team's boatman] professed to be a devout Muslim, but was a follower of the Dark Prince. He died in 1948 from untreated cancer. His soul was collected and quarantined until 2050.
Muhamad Wass [Steve & Libby's Boatman] remained a boatman on the river Nile until his death in 1949. He was fondly remembered by his family and friends because of his good nature. His soul was collected and processed.
Sheikh Mohamed Malik died in quite mysterious circumstances in 1926. It was widely rumoured that his eldest son [of the same name] had murdered his father to assume power. There was no soul collected; it was believed that he had given his soul to the Dark Side. It remains missing to this day.
Colonel Simon Hayward-Jones remained in the British Army and served in many other senior positions around the British Empire. He never made it beyond the rank of Colonel. He died, in India, in 1934 of an unspecified fever. His soul was collected and processed.
Captain Robert 'Bob' Bullstrode retired from the army in 1929 - just in time for the Great Depression - and couldn't find work. He landed on very hard times. On a bright sunny July morning, in a dingy one roomed flat in Manchester, he took his old service revolver and shot himself. His soul was collected and processed.
Sergeant Richard Ames was killed on a dirt road outside Cairo, just months after the Temporal Detectives visit, He was riding his motorbike at some speed - drunk - when he struck a camel, that wandered in front of him. His soul was collected and processed. The camel survived the accident.
Professor Lionel Caspro [Cairo Museum] never received the package Libby intended he should have. The pair never met again - after Libby left Egypt - and thus, never heard the strange tale of Anebos or saw the hieroglyphs on his tomb wall. He died in 1932 from cancer. His soul was collected and processed.
Tomb ES-42 remains derelict and rarely visited. The walls were ruined by the fire in 1922. The story of the Prophet Anebos remains unknown - for now. The arrival of the 'Fifth Prophet' is still awaited.
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