‘Most historians believe Yarsu to be another historical figure.’
‘But there’s no proof that they’re right,’ Gabrielle declared. ‘In any case Yarsu clearly sounds like Yosef or Joseph. But more important than that, it means “the self-made man”. Who could be more of a self-made man, than a foreigner who rose from humble origins to become the pharaoh’s right-hand man – like Joseph?’
Mansoor was not one to admit defeat easily, but he smiled at Gabrielle’s arguments, impressed. He turned to Daniel, who seemed to be in a dream world as he stared at a wall.
‘Earth to Daniel,’ he said, remembering the old taunt that his American students sometimes used.
‘What’s that?’ asked Daniel, pointing to a part of the wall.
‘Those are inscriptions from the Book of the Dead. Every tomb has some. Why?’
‘Every tomb has the same inscriptions?’
‘No, every tomb is different. The inscriptions are supposed to relate to the individual.’
‘And those illustrations?’
‘That’s Chapter 148.’
‘The cows?’
‘The seven celestial cows and a bull. A symbol of fertility. What of it?’
‘It’s just that it reminded me of… the very thing that led to Joseph being appointed Pharaoh’s right-hand man: he predicted the seven years of famine to follow the seven years of plenty by his correct interpretation of Pharaoh’s dream about the seven fat cows and the seven thin cows.’
Chapter 32
The office was busy when a six-page fax arrived at the Egyptian Ministry of Health. The message was picked up from the machine by a very junior member of staff who, upon recognizing its importance, handed it over to one of his superiors, who in turn handed it over to another. It ended up in the hands of a sixty-three-year-old white- haired wiry man, with a frail body, but a piercing, determined look in his eyes. That man was Farooq Mahdi, the Minister of Health, and he was now studying the document.
The fax described certain events in England and warned of the threat posed by two people: an Englishman called Daniel Klein and an Austrian citizen called Gabrielle Gusack. The document went on to say that both of them were highly respected academics and that they were believed to be travelling in the company of the Vice Minister of Culture, Akil Mansoor.
However, the document took great pains to emphasize that there was no suggestion that Akil Mansoor was in any way, shape or form aware of the threat posed by these two individuals. Indeed, it was because of his ignorance of the danger they posed that he was himself vulnerable to them and it was for this reason all the more imperative that he be warned and that they be apprehended as quickly as possible.
But where was Akil Mansoor now? And where were Daniel Klein and Gabrielle Gusack, for that matter?
A few minutes later, Mahdi’s secretary had tracked down the information that Mansoor had flown with Klein and Gusack to Luxor with the intention of visiting the Valley of the Kings. But because the secretary had said it was urgent, Mansoor’s office had kindly given his mobile number.
The minister wasn’t sure if there was coverage in the area where Mansoor was, but he decided to try. The call went straight to voicemail, and a voice told him that the number could not receive calls for the time being and invited him to leave a message.
The Minister of Health left an urgent message for Mansoor, hoping that he would hear it soon.
Chapter 33
‘It’s known to the locals as the Valley of the Monkeys and the tomb itself is known as the Tomb of the Baboons, because of the depictions of baboons on one of the walls.’
Mansoor was driving them on a spur road across the hot, dry sands, from the main car park of the Valley of the Kings to the western valley, some three kilometres away.
‘Didn’t they actually find a cache of mummified baboons in the valley?’
Mansoor glanced at Daniel and smiled. ‘They only found one from this western valley. Others were found in various other locations.’
They had arrived at the entrance to the valley. Gabrielle spoke from the back of the jeep.
‘You know, the best way to see this valley is on foot. It has some wonderful rock formations around the narrow paths that you can’t get to by car.’
‘I don’t think our friend could take the heat,’ Mansoor replied with a mocking smile, applying the brakes.
‘Then why are we stopping here?’ asked Gabrielle.
‘We have to get the guardian to open the tomb,’ Mansoor explained. ‘Let’s hope he’s at home.’
The three of them stepped out of the jeep and into the silence of the western Valley of the Kings. But this time, the blast of dry heat that hit Daniel was not quite as oppressive as it had been before. What was disconcerting, however, was the desolate loneliness that hung in the air around them. This, Daniel realized, was the sensation that the old adventurers must have felt in the main valley when they first explored and excavated the area, before it was transformed into the tourist beehive that it had now become.
Mansoor looked around, as if this were new to him also, and then started walking towards the guardian’s house at a snail’s pace.
‘The ancient Egyptians believed that the valley was watched over by Meretseger, a local goddess whose name translated, appropriately enough, as “She who loves silence”. But there was a bit of a pun in her name, because the first syllable, Mer, was also the first syllable of the word for pyramid and the goddess was said to dwell in the pyramid-shaped mountain that overlooked the valley. To the ancient Egyptians she was perceived as both kind and cruel – the dispenser of both favours and pain.’
‘Perhaps the archetype for women ever since,’ added Daniel with a teasing smile in Gabrielle’s direction. She did not look amused.
Mansoor stopped in front of the door to the old shack and knocked aggressively.
From within the house, Daniel heard a deep baritone voice mumbling in Arabic about the world surely not coming to an end and how the visitor was making enough noise to arouse the pharaohs from their eternal slumber.
The door opened with a clanging of chains and a clacking of bolts, as the gravel-voiced grumbling continued. But it came to an abrupt end when the diminutive, wizened guardian of the tomb came face to face with Mansoor. In the polite Arabic exchange that followed, Mansoor explained without introducing himself that he and his guests had come to see Tomb 23.
The guardian went back into the house and returned seconds later with a huge bunch of oversized keys. When they went back to the car, it was clear from Mansoor’s body language that he wanted the guardian of the tomb to sit in the front with him, in deference to his age. So Daniel joined Gabrielle in the back, greeting her with a smile. After holding out for a second or two, she reciprocated. Daniel sensed that her sombre mood was due in no small measure to the way in which she was being squeezed into the background, as Mansoor and Daniel engaged in their detailed discussions, despite the fact that she was academically on a par with them. It was as if all the old Middle Eastern stereotypes about women were coming into play.
Mansoor restarted the jeep and drove slowly along the increasingly narrow and rock-strewn track. Along the way he stopped by an old brick hut, but kept the engine running. The guardian of the tomb got out and went over to the hut, opening it and disappearing inside, mumbling something inaudible in Arabic that could have been a curse, but was more probably just a lament at having his daily routine interrupted. After a few moments, there were clanking noises, as if things were being moved about inside, then silence.
A second or two later, the silence of the valley was broken by the whirring drone of a generator. In an instant, the valley had lost its tranquillity as the incessant rumbling permeated the air around them, not as noise, but as a faint background sound. The guardian emerged, locked up and strolled at a leisurely pace back to the jeep.
