Look her up. You won't find much but she'll intrigue you. She was the overseer of a staff of female physicians in the time of the pyramids. Her son's tomb is in the Louvre in Paris. She was totally brilliant, but not much was known about her.
But I know a good deal about her, and I'm going to know everything before I'm done. The tidbit that might interest you is that she claims to have found a way to regenerate damaged cells of the central nervous system. It wasn't high on her list. She seems to have been more interested in other cures. Cancer and heart disease were her main focus, but she had more opportunity to experiment on the injured laborers who were building the pyramids. After six years she stated that she' d had almost total success. Her cures were always inscribed on tablets, and presumably could still be in existence. In fact, I've enclosed a portion of the cure that Peseshet created at the end of this message. Only a portion because that was all she teased us with. But it may be enough to excite you. Check it out. But at supersonic speed, please, because I don't have much time.
Interested? Of course, you are. And your next reaction is going to be anger and disgust that I' d use such an obvious ploy to get what I want from you. Justified since I've already stolen a hell of a lot from your Jonesy. When I was researching the potential for total cellular regeneration of the nervous system, I came across your name and the foundation you' d set up. Since I needed massive amounts of cycles to do the research to help me locate those tablets, it appeared that fate had taken a hand. I could find your cure and snatch a billion or so for myself by selling her cures to the world. We' d both be happy.
But to do that, I have to stay alive. I know you're desperate, and I'm counting on it. You're looking for a miracle, and if you find a way to save my bacon, I promise I'll perform one for you. I've enclosed directions to the tomb where I'm waiting rather impatiently to be rescued by you. Peseshet thinks you can do it.
I agree with her.
John Tavak
"Who the hell is John Tavak?" Simon said. "Besides being an opportunist beyond the scope of imagination."
"I never heard of him." Rachel couldn't take her gaze from the message in front of her. "I should ignore this e-mail, shouldn't I?"
"He's trying to manipulate you."
"Yes. The chances are that it's all a bunch of crap."
Total cellular regeneration.
"He's a criminal. He's dangling that cure like a carrot before a donkey."
"But he's absolutely brilliant. We both agreed that he had to be a genius to be able to do what he did with Jonesy."
"He's a criminal," Simon repeated.
Total cellular regeneration.
"What if he's telling the truth?"
"Rachel, get a grip. He's trying to use you."
I know how desperate you are.
Oh, yes, she was desperate, and he was ruthlessly playing on that feeling of mounting panic.
"Rachel."
"Do you think I'm blind?" she asked fiercely. "I don't give a damn if he's trying to manipulate me. I'd let the devil himself use me if he could promise me a cure for Allie."
"Promises are cheap."
"But life isn't cheap. Allie's life isn't cheap. And it has to be bought and paid for any way I can do it."
"You're going to do it."
"Maybe." She cleared the screen. "Let's see if he told the truth about the only thing I can check. What was her name? Peseshet." The information about the woman physician was scanty, just as Tavak had said it would be. "Not much here. But she was an important physician, and part of her son's tomb is in the Louvre."
"That doesn't mean anything. You're crazy, Rachel."
"Probably." She looked at a photograph Tavak had embedded in his message. It featured a portion of a stone tablet, along with a translation of the carvings. "It says here that the principal ingredient of her treatment was the crushed bones of Horus."
"What's a horus?" Simon asked.
"Horus is the name of an Egyptian god, but it probably means something else in this context. I'll send this to Dr. Carson at Allie's foundation and ask him to look at it and report back immediately."
"You're actually going to try to save the bastard."
"If I can. 'If' is the key word." She activated the portable printer and punched a button that printed out the directions to the Saqqara tomb. "If he's in that tomb, if he's telling the truth, if he can deliver what he promised."
Simon's lips twisted. "A miracle."
"A miracle," she repeated. "My miracle." Her smile was tiger bright. "And if he doesn't produce it, I'll cut his nuts off."
* * *
It was done.
Tavak shut down the computer. Rachel wouldn't reply to the e-mail. She would either act or she wouldn't. He would have to wait and see if she made her move. Or left him to rot down here.
His gaze went to Peseshet sitting on her throne, serene and confident and completely uncaring of whether he lived or died.
But Rachel Kirby would care if he'd convinced her that he could give her what she wanted.
"She's a hard nut to crack," he said softly. "Kind of like you, Peseshet. I think you would have liked her. Or maybe not. You were pretty damn arrogant with all those healers you oversaw. You and Rachel might have come to blows. It would have been something to see. I wish that I—"
Ben was coughing. Perspiration was filming his face. Fever? Dammit, Tavak could only give it a little more time, then he'd have to leave him, head for the surface, and make his play.
His gaze wandered back to the mosaic on the wall. "If you've got any influence with her, I wouldn't complain if you hurried Rachel along a bit. After all, we're trying to make a damn goddess of medicine of you."
But she already knew she was a goddess. Just as Rachel knew exactly what and who she was.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.
Come on, ladies, let's get the show on the road.
* * *
"What are we waiting for?" Sorens asked Charles Dawson. "They've got to be dead. Let's go in."
"Don't be impatient." Dawson settled himself more comfortably outside the tomb, his hand grasping the stock of the M16. "Tavak is unpredictable and has as many lives as a cat. We'll wait and see if he surfaces. It's much safer staying out here and picking them off than having to worry about him ambushing us in the dark." He smiled. "Everything comes to he who waits. You've never learned that, Sorens."
Sorens shrugged and turned away.
Donald Sorens was clear as glass, Dawson thought with impatience. He believed he was an egotistical bastard and was salivating to find a way to take him down. It's not going to happen, Sorens. There are people who were meant to lead and people who were meant to serve. You're way down on the food chain.
He turned to Ali, who was hovering a few feet away, and said mockingly, "You've been shaking in your shoes since the explosives went off. I take it you're in no hurry to rush down into the depths?"
Ali shook his head. "I'm not going down there. It could collapse and I—" He stopped as he met Dawson's gaze. "It wouldn't be safe," he finished lamely.
"But it would be less safe if I had to go down there without a guide, wouldn't it?" he asked softly. "And if I were forced to do that, I really couldn't let you walk away from here. So I think that you should be content to keep me company."