The grating of volcanic stone was minimal. Once more, Baahir was incredibly surprised by the craftsmanship on display. He had never seen anything like it before. Ancient Egyptians typically used clay pots to seal up their valuables, not cylindrical containers made of ethereal stone.
Why the change? Baahir asked himself. He grew more uneasy. Even if it wasn’t Anubis who had penned the scroll and then built this elaborate container, why had he chosen to use hellstone?
Baahir was startled when the two halves of the tube came apart, but when they did, he saw it, and stopped. Everyone in the chamber held their breath. There, in the bottom half of the tube, was a wound scroll.
But was it their book?
Baahir stood. “I have to get this to the museum.”
“What?” Rahal shouted. “You can’t—”
“We are not set up to handle precious documents here. The fact that we even found something is amazing, but I won’t potentially damage the find because I can’t contain my excitement. That would be negligent on my part, even more than me opening the tube here.” Saying it out loud put it into perspective. Baahir had already broken several rules for the sake of his need-to-know. He wouldn’t be breaking any others.
He pieced the two halves of the vessel back together and headed for the exit. He pushed through Abbas and Ghazzi and ducked into the tunnel. A loud click made him stop. He turned around, staring down the barrel of a pistol.
Mr. Rahal smiled.
“What are you doing?” Baahir asked, hugging the artifact tight.
“He’s betraying us,” Abbas said, growling. “He’s taking the scroll for himself.”
Baahir’s eyes flashed back to the government agent. “Is that true?”
Rahal relaxed, looking very confident. “Half of that is. I am going to take it, but no, it’s not for me.”
“Who is it for?” Baahir asked, stepping back.
Rahal laughed. “This isn’t the movies, Dr. Hassan. I’m not going to tell you the deeper details of our nefarious plan.” He stepped toward the Egyptologist. “But what I am going to do is take Anubis’ scroll, and if you don’t hand it over, I’ll shoot you here and now.”
Baahir’s eyes opened wide. So, he actually believes it belonged to Anubis!
“Okay… Okay. Here,” Baahir said, holding out the artifact. “As long as no one gets hurt.”
Rahal reached out for the tube and greedily ripped it from Baahir’s hand. He held it up as if it were the Holy Grail. His eyes were maniacal, though focused. Baahir could tell the man believed in everything they had discussed.
He needed to know. “I thought you said there was no evidence of any of this being true?”
Rahal’s attention returned to him, and he leveled the gun at his chest. “I lied. There is evidence, but it’s only known to a chosen few.”
The gunshot caused Baahir’s ears to ring. But other than that, he wasn’t hurt. Just as Rahal had pulled the trigger, Abbas and Ghazzi dove for the man’s gun hand. In doing so, the shot had gone high and impacted the entryway directly above Baahir’s head. The two construction workers struggled to relieve the agent of his pistol. Abbas got one of his meaty hands up and wrapped it around the other man’s throat. Rahal responded by dropping the scroll to the chamber floor and clawing at Abbas’ face. The tube landed with a clunk and rolled, stopping right in front of Baahir’s toes.
He snatched it up and momentarily thought about using the solidly made, stone cylinder as a weapon. But could he really use a priceless artifact in that way?
Another shot rang out.
Baahir flinched and was appalled to see Ghazzi stumble away from the fight, holding his stomach. The local had been shot at point-blank range. Blood poured from the wound, seeping through Ghazzi’s clutched hands. He fell to the floor and inched away from Abbas and Rahal, eyes wide and his mouth agape. He was in shock.
“Ghazzi!”
The foreman roared and lifted Rahal off the ground by his armpits, driving him backward into the adjacent wall. Baahir wanted to help, and he knew exactly how. He turned and ran, holding the artifact tight. He needed to get outside and call the police. Luckily, Rahal had handed over Baahir’s phone before turning coat.
The world around Baahir rushed by in a blur. His adrenaline levels were off the charts. He used his runner’s frame to good use and poured on the speed, aiming for the hill he and Abbas had originally descended. He was so focused on escaping that he didn’t realize the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. Once Baahir reached the slope, he pulled out his phone and called the police.
“Hello… my name is Baahir Hassan! There’s been… a shooting at the Mena House Golf Course… well… beneath it, and —”
“Slow down, sir,” the operator said. “Where exactly did you say you are?”
“Beneath the Mena House Golf Course!” he shouted. His mind was racing. “A sinkhole… caused by the storm. The construction site!”
“Okay, Mr. Hassan, I have officers inbound. Find a safe place and wait for help to arrive.”
“Yes, okay,” Baahir replied, nodding to no one as he hurried.
“Do you know the gunman?”
Baahir turned and looked back down the hill just as a third gunshot startled him. It was much quieter than the others — only a subtle thump this time. The underground chamber had acted as an oversized sound suppressor. But Baahir wasn’t focused on the repressed discharge. He was thinking about the men who had saved his life.
The emergency operator repeated herself, speaking direct and slow. “Mr. Hassan, do you know the gunman?”
Baahir pulled his attention off the excavation, spotting his SUV up ahead. He rushed towards it. “Sorry… Yes. His name is Fahim Rahal.”
Chapter 10
Rahal
The only sound in the chamber was the whimpering cries of a dying man. Ghazzi’s stomach wound would eventually kill him, but it was going to be a slow and agonizing death. The larger man, Abbas, had gone down with a single shot to the back of the head. Rahal had first broken Abbas’ nose, and then he swiftly hip tossed the foreman to the ground. It was all over after that.
The agent sat in a catcher’s squat, balancing on the balls of his feet. He nonchalantly wiped his sweaty face with a handkerchief while watching Ghazzi suffer. His plan was to interrogate — possibly even torture — Dr. Hassan for information. Rahal and his people knew everything there was to know about Anubis, but Hassan was smart. It couldn’t hurt to see if Hassan had said anything of note to add.
Ghazzi had the gall to smile.
“What’s so funny?” Rahal asked.
The digger’s words were slow and wet. “You seem… to be… missing something.”
Rahal’s eyes went wide, and he leaped to his feet. He searched the floor, realizing that the scroll was gone.
“Hassan.”
Rahal needed to retrieve the artifact at all costs, but getting information was still a necessity. He thought back and realized that Ghazzi had spent some time by the Egyptologist’s side.
I wonder…
Rahal, once more, squatted in front of Ghazzi and redrew his pistol. “Tell me, Mr. Ghazzi, what did you and Dr. Hassan talk about?”
Chapter 11
Baahir
Baahir couldn’t get his breathing under control. He had never been more terrified in his life. A man — a government agent, no less — had turned a gun on him, and tried to kill him. And why? Because he believed that the scroll they had found was actually written by the death god, Anubis.