It had caused a mild panic amongst Egyptologists and archaeologists, but had turned out to be nothing extraordinary.
This is different, he thought, visualizing the immense structure. He knew he and his team were done for good here — so was the golf course, more than likely. This one might be special.
Abbas led Hassan down off the road. To enter the golf course, one needed to step over a thigh-high, temporary barrier constructed of yellow tape and road cones. Abbas’ muddied boots sloshed across a narrow, muddy stream while Hassan avoided it with every ounce of his being. The construction foreman could tell that the expert was comfortable operating in a clean and controlled atmosphere, whereas Abbas was more used to conditions such as this.
Except for the rain, Abbas thought, choosing his steps wisely. The earth had already been difficult to navigate. Add in the rain, and it made it nearly impossible to do so without losing your footing.
Hassan started to go down but grabbed onto Abbas’ arm for support. The larger man allowed the expert to right himself before shrugging out of his grasp. The pair made their way down a switchbacking trail, descending thirty feet before reaching a single large tent. Abbas’ crew had set up shop here as the rain came in. Now, it was the only somewhat-dry place within what had quickly become an archaeological excavation instead of a construction site.
Both men shielded their faces from the wind, entering the tent just as the natural phenomena tried to rip the structure away from the ground. Every able-bodied person held onto one of the various supports and rode out the barrage. Even Hassan lent a hand. Abbas was grateful too. His crew was down to barebones numbers since he was forced to shut down the job the night before. Now, the only other people inside the tent other than himself and Dr. Hassan were two of his men and a man who had introduced himself as a government representative. It was this man who had decided to involve the Ministry.
The storm raged for two more minutes, and just as the operations tent was about to finally lose the battle against nature, the outside force calmed down to nothing. Abbas breathed hard, forgetting all about his pulsating head. He patted his men on the shoulders and gave Hassan a curt, thankful nod. The Egyptologist looked shaken, but seemed otherwise fine. Same for the government agent.
Finally comfortable with the state of the tent, Abbas made the introductions.
“Dr. Hassan, this is Fahim Rahal. He represents the government, in some capacity, though he has yet to reveal exactly what that capacity is.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Hassan offered his hand, same as he had done with Abbas. And just as the rough foreman had done, Rahal did not accept the offer.
“Likewise,” Rahal said, folding his arms across his chest. “Is it just you?”
Hassan looked around. “It is. I will send for more men if I decide that this so-called ‘significant discovery’ is worth their time.”
A sly smile formed on the agent’s face. “It will be.”
“What does that mean?” Hassan asked, eyebrows raised.
Rahal glanced at Abbas. “Show him.”
Abbas glared at the agent, but he spoke to the Egyptologist. “This way.”
Hassan nodded and skirted around the unnerving, government agent. The front of the tent held twin flaps, which were currently lashed shut. Abbas swiftly untied them and held one of them open for Hassan. He stepped through and saw nothing. Only blackness welcomed them.
“Ghazzi!” Abbas shouted. “Lights!”
A slight, small-statured man came into view and rushed forward with nothing except a flashlight with a dim, yellow bulb. He entered inside the yawning void and disappeared from sight. Seconds passed before the telltale hum of a generator puttered to life.
A series of construction lights ignited, and the “significant discovery” came into full view.
Chapter 3
Baahir
Dr. Baahir Hassan stumbled backward, nearly spilling to the unforgiving, rocky ground. Abbas had caught him, holding him aloft while the Egyptologist was lost inside his own head as he attempted to dissect what greeted him. But he couldn’t.
It was obviously a tomb entrance, but it was unlike any other tomb entrance he had ever seen or studied. The crypt had been built directly into the wall, similar to Abu Simbel. But instead of the twenty-five-foot-tall figures depicting that of the men or women responsible for it, the figures on either side of the blasted open, five-foot-tall doorway were that of Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the afterlife.
His initial hypothesis had been that this place was a crypt of some kind. He was wrong, though. Tombs were designed to house bodies. Baahir knew that this place, even without exploring it, held no human remains because of the god it was dedicated to.
“A temple devoted to Anubis?” Baahir asked himself, thinking aloud. “I can’t believe it…”
Abbas understood his tone. “You don’t sound like you do ‘believe it.’”
Baahir shrugged. “There are no records of anything like this.” He took his eyes off the relic and looked up at the taller foreman. “This is entirely new to us — to history.” He turned back to look at the find and saw something he didn’t appreciate. “I see you found a way in.”
Abbas scratched his head. “We, um, may have tried to have a look before he arrived.” The barrel-chested construction worker pointed at the government agent. “Can you blame us?”
Baahir couldn’t blame them. Men like this — hard-working blue-collar folks — didn’t earn a noteworthy wage. Abbas’ crew had done what they thought was right for themselves. They had discovered this place and should get credit for it. But that wasn’t at the top of Baahir’s list of priorities.
Searching the temple was.
“Have you been inside?” Baahir asked, stepping forward.
Abbas shook his head. “No. We were about to, but then Mr. Rahal showed up and shut us down. The storm rolled in shortly after that. Now, you.”
Baahir swallowed hard. Life must have thrown this guy some nasty curveballs lately, and it was easy to tell that he didn’t appreciate any of it. For his own good, Baahir would watch what he said to the man.
“I’m sorry you’ve been troubled by all this.” Abbas’ severe, stoic glare softened for a split-second. He seemed to appreciate Baahir’s apology, even though none of this was his doing. It was all bad luck and bureaucratic protocol. Baahir decided to throw the Abbas a bone. He motioned to the entrance. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re about to become a very famous man for finding all of this.”
Though there were protocols to follow, this was Egypt. There was plenty of money to be made in situations like this, not by selling the site but by selling access to it. While the red tape of bureaucracy stretched around the Ministry of Antiquities and provided everyone there with enough paperwork for the next two years, the locals onsite could manage access to the temple.
For a fee, of course.
It had been a common, age-old tradition. Unless met with a show of force from the Egyptian military, this temple would effectively become a tourist attraction before Baahir’s team could even get it marked on a map.
Talk of money seemed to perk Abbas up a bit. He fell in stride with Baahir and turned on his flashlight, directing its beam at the crumbled opening. The Egyptologist added his own light. The top two-thirds of the sealed entrance was missing. Only the bottom portion was still present and intact. Baahir stopped and studied what was left of the blockade.