“Up. Slowly.”
The three men lifted, getting no movement out of the lid.
“Stop,” Baahir directly. They relaxed their grips and reset their stances. “We need more leverage. Try getting lower.”
The trio leaned in and, instead of lifting with their fingers, they positioned their palms under the lid’s shallow ledge. Now, they’d be able to use more of their bodies than just their arms and backs.
“Okay, let’s try again.” Baahir let out a long breath. “Up.”
As one, they dug in and pushed, driving the cover skyward. Their change in tactics had worked, and the lid slid, grinding stone on stone. It wasn’t just any normal lid, either. The architects had made sure that whoever opened it was going to have to work hard for what was inside. No one could come in and simply shove the lid off. Its girth extended the entire depth of the vault itself.
“You’re almost there!” Rahal announced, excitement radiating in his voice. “Keep going!”
Baahir was out of breath, and he was becoming lightheaded. Abbas and Ghazzi didn’t seem to be fairing as poorly as he was. Then again, they were laborers, familiar with the strain of a hard day’s work. Baahir worked hard, but his job kept him mostly behind a desk, not out lifting heavy objects and digging holes. He was in shape, but he had to hit the gym every other day to maintain it.
The trio nearly dropped the lid when it finally came free. Luckily, they each had the wherewithal to hang on.
“Set it down…on the edge of the vault,” Baahir said in between gasps.
They did, and for the moment, were free of its weight. Now, with the lid stacked on top of the vault itself, the two objects combined were as tall as Baahir.
“Ready?” Baahir asked, getting nods all around.
The three men reset their grips on the lid. “Up,” Baahir said. “Toward me.”
With Baahir backpedaling, the three men cleared the open container and eased the weighty lid to the temple floor. Once free of its weight, neither of them waited to catch their breath. The men huddled around the vault, spotting something inside. A two-foot-tall vertically standing tube of black stone greeted them.
Volcanic rock?
The object and the setting around it brought him back to his mother’s description of the hellstone.
“So dark that it absorbs the light,” Baahir mumbled to himself.
Abbas reached for the relic but was stopped.
“Don’t!” Baahir warned, grabbing the man’s wrist. He was spooked. “We need to be cautious.” Abbas looked at him strangely. “Trust me.”
Baahir slipped into a pair of latex gloves. Then, he produced a pair of heavy leather gloves and adorned them as well. Within the light, he could just barely see the artifact’s surface. It really did seem to swallow whatever light that touched it.
He thought he spotted a set of hieroglyphs engraved into it, and…
Slow down, Baahir. First, extract the…thing. He didn’t quite know what it was.
Following his own orders, Baahir carefully placed his shaking hands on the object. He imagined his parents standing next to him, instead of his current company, and how proud they would be of him. Baahir tried as hard as he could to shut up his mind. This was the first time he had thought positively of his father in years.
The tube didn’t budge. Baahir released his grip and peeked down into the container but didn’t see any hindrances. The tube was stuck, locked in place after so many years.
“Help me, will you.”
Abbas and Ghazzi wrapped their hands around Baahir’s, avoiding direct contact with the artifact. Together, they pulled. Similar to the lid, the tube didn’t move an inch. The construction workers knew what to do this time. They leaned in close and squeezed Baahir’s hands tighter. The trio put everything they had into it, and, with a trio of growls and a pop, the object came free.
As did Baahir.
He and the tube went flying backward. Baahir tripped and landed on top of the three-foot-tall lid, flipping ass over teakettle to the floor on the other side. The air instantly left his lungs with an audible “Oof!”
He coughed, marveling at the discovery he now possessed. Baahir couldn’t believe he had found… what exactly?
“That doesn’t look like a scroll,” Rahal pointed out.
Baahir sat up and held the tube up for everyone to see. He shook his head. “If I’m correct, I think this is just a protective casing of some kind.”
He set the tube down on the lid, using it as an examination table, and moved to a kneeling position. Rahal moved in closer and bathed the workspace in light. It didn’t reveal much.
“How come the light doesn’t work?” Abbas asked.
“Because,” Baahir explained, dipping into his past, “it’s hellstone.” He looked up at Ghazzi. “We need more light.”
Without another word, Ghazzi hurried back down the corridor.
Rahal’s focus narrowed onto the artifact, and he stepped toward it with a hungry look on his face. “No!” Baahir snapped. “We’ll wait for Ghazzi to return to see if Anubis’ scroll is real.”
The impatient government agent huffed. “Well, then, I’ll go make sure Mr. Ghazzi doesn’t linger for too long.” Before Baahir or Abbas could argue, Rahal was gone.
Chapter 7
Khaliq
Khaliq Ayad’s man at the dig site had just notified him that a mysterious artifact relating to the scroll had been found. Even though the scroll itself had not been seen, it was enough to mobilize him and a few of his most faithful men. At worst, if there was no scroll present, he would still possess the black cylindrical object. It would make a fine addition to his Anubian collection. Then, once he translated its inscriptions, he would lock it away and conceal the knowledge it contained. No one but Khaliq could know.
Which means everyone that has seen it must die.
He relayed the sentiment to his man on the ground before climbing into one of two blacked-out SUVs. Luckily, neither the Egyptologist nor the government agent had requested additional help from their superiors. Their lapses in judgment had unknowingly aided in Khaliq’s efforts. Stealing the artifact was going to be easy.
How do the Americans say it? he thought. Oh, yes. Khaliq grinned.
“Like taking candy from a baby.”
Chapter 8
Ghazzi
Ghazzi rummaged through the tent, searching for more batteries. The two flashlights he had found weren’t going to work. One barely had enough power to create a noticeable difference, and the other was completely dead — probably even broken. He cursed Abbas and the others for hastily packing everything up before the storm. It was usually his job to keep the equipment organized and ready to go, but with everything happening so quickly, the gear had been tossed aside and battered.
He was on edge, scared. He knew something was happening, and he knew his place in all of it. He needed to be ready, to act when the moment was right.
Ghazzi paused his search and listened. He looked behind him, peering through the open flap of the tent, but saw nothing.
At least, he thought he saw nothing. The bustling wind and shadows the construction lighting created were making it hard to make out much of anything. To Ghazzi, the darkness looked alive. It didn’t help that there was an endless staccato of noise coming from the roof as the rain continually pummeled it, though it had lessened some.
He looked up and sighed. Even if someone was behind him, he wouldn’t hear the person coming until it was too late.