red-carpeted hallways and corridors full of gilt-framed paintings until they reached the backstairs Claudel had described. The scream of the alarms grew a little fainter as they climbed to the third floor. Kirby was red-faced, badly out of breath and gripping the banister rail as they reached the top landing. ‘I’m going to have a heart attack.’
‘Fourth door on the right,’ Ben said. ‘This way.’
There was no longer any point worrying about setting off alarms. When Ben found the door Claudel had told them about, he took a step back and lashed out his foot. The door ripped open, crashing off the wall inside. Ragged splinters hung from the shattered frame. Ben walked quickly into the room, dragging Kirby behind him. He flipped on the lights and took in the scene.
‘Look at this place,’ Kirby gasped, forgetting all about his heart attack.
The room was large and magnificent, the walls lined with crimson velvet. The light from the crystal chandeliers shone down on Ambassador Sam Sheridan’s priceless collection of ancient Egyptian artefacts. Statues from five thousand years of history lined the walls. Glass-fronted display cabinets were filled with vases and pottery, alabaster jars and sculptures, scarab amulets, old papyri, fragments of tapestry. On a large marble pedestal sat a block of stone with painted reliefs showing images of Egyptian nobles.
‘People shouldn’t be allowed to have this stuff,’ Kirby muttered under his breath. ‘It belongs in a museum. There should be a law.’
But Ben wasn’t listening. He moved through the room, interested in only one thing. He quickly saw that Sheridan’s collection comprised about a dozen different chairs of various size and design. ‘Kirby, come and help me.’ He pointed at a large seat woven from rushes. It looked remarkably like modern bamboo furniture, staggeringly well preserved. ‘Would this be it?’
‘That’s not it,’ Kirby said. ‘We’re looking for something much grander.’
‘What about that one?’
‘That’s more like it.’
Half hidden behind a tall painted urn was a sturdy-looking, imposing chair made of wood and leather. The stunningly modern frame was square in design, with criss-crossed struts in the lower section and a high back. The seat was a thick pad of decorated hide that hung between two parallel spars. The throne’s condition was incredible, the woodwork gleaming and smooth, as though the finest craftsmen in the world had built it just yesterday.
Kirby fell on his knees in front of the artefact, eagerly inspecting the intricate carvings and painted symbols that covered it. ‘This is it,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Look-the seal of Wenkaura. This was definitely his seat.’
‘Can you see anything?’
‘Give me a chance,’ Kirby snapped. ‘I need to examine it.’
‘We don’t have all night.’ Ben was very conscious of the alarms still ringing through the building below them. It wouldn’t be long before the security teams swept through the whole Embassy and locked down every room.
‘I don’t see anything,’ Kirby said.
Ben grabbed the throne impatiently and started dragging it into the middle of the room. It was solid and heavy. ‘Let me have a look at it.’
‘Careful. That’s three and a half thousand years old.’
‘Don’t worry. It’s been a while since I smashed any museum exhibits.’ Ben crouched down and inspected it from every angle, running his fingers over every surface and join. The leather seat was incredibly well preserved, only slightly hardened and cracked with age around the edges. In the middle it was still supple and pliable. He touched and pressed every square inch. Crouched back away from the throne and studied the designs on it thoughtfully.
‘I don’t see anything,’ Kirby said again. ‘Maybe it’s the wrong chair.’
The alarms stopped abruptly, plunging the building into sudden silence. That meant the situation downstairs was under control. Ben’s ear tuned in sharply. Voices in the distance, maybe two floors below, maybe one. A door slammed. A radio crackled. It wouldn’t be long now. His heart beat a little faster.
‘These designs painted on the leather,’ he said. ‘What do you make of them?’
‘It’s all Atenist symbolism,’ Kirby replied in a flustered voice, pointing out the stylised images of Akhenaten’s sacred sun disc.
Ben nodded. ‘So what does that tell us?’
‘It tells us that the original artwork has been removed or painted over.’
‘So if Wenkaura had planned for the artwork on the throne to convey a message of some kind, you’re saying it’s been obliterated?’
Kirby sighed. ‘Looks that way. Obviously the throne went the same way as so many other religious artefacts of the period. It’s been hijacked by the sun-worshippers.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the door. ‘We’d better get out of here. It’s all been for nothing.’
Ben didn’t reply for a moment. He just sat there crouched in front of the throne, gazing at it thoughtfully.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Kirby said. ‘Let’s go. We’re going to get arrested. What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking about winners and losers. About the spoils of war. The nature of revolutions.’
Kirby stared at him. ‘Say what?’
‘If the design was hijacked as you say, then why didn’t they paint out the seal of Wenkaura on the back panel? Why leave the insignia of a traitor on display for posterity?’
Kirby swallowed, thinking fast, eyes bulging.
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Ben said. ‘They just wouldn’t have done that. Think about it. You’re a historian. When the Moors took Jerusalem from the Christians, did they leave a single cross standing? No, they hacked them all down and replaced them with their own crescent moon. And vice versa, when the crusaders came back to reclaim the city. That’s how it works. It’s the nature of war. The old order swept away by the new. Winner takes all. No compromises. What would be the point?’
The voices down below were getting a little closer.
‘And Wenkaura would never have made such a compromise either,’ Ben went on. ‘He was as much at war with the new order as they were with the old religion he represented. It would be a sacrilege to him to have his seal on this piece of Atenist propaganda. It would be like finding Winston Churchill’s signature on a swastika banner.’
Kirby frowned. ‘So what are you saying?’
‘I’m saying there’s only one possible explanation for why we’re seeing Wenkaura’s seal on what looks for all the world like a trophy captured by the enemy. It’s because these symbols weren’t put there by the enemy. They were put there by Wenkaura himself Ben patted the leather seat. ‘He fooled them. He had his own throne recovered with Atenist symbols, to protect it from being destroyed by the Pharaoh’s agents. And there’s only one reason he would do that. To preserve whatever it is he left inside. It’s a trick. Another clue in itself, telling us that there’s something hidden here waiting to be revealed.’
Kirby’s face brightened. ‘Shit, you could be right. Again.’
‘Feel this leather,’ Ben said. ‘It’s soft. Feels like sheep nappa, but it’s thicker than cowhide. There must be half a dozen overlaid panels of it making up the seat. My guess is we’ll find something under here.’
Kirby let out a gasp when he saw the small penknife in Ben’s hand. ‘You can’t do that-’
‘Yes, I can, and I’m going to.’
‘But it’s priceless.’
‘I’ll pay for it when we find the treasure.’ Ben slashed the leather open and carefully peeled back the top layer, praying the layers weren’t stuck together.
Underneath were colourful images of Thoth and Isis, Bastet and Anubis.
‘The old gods,’ Kirby said. ‘Akhenaten definitely wouldn’t have approved of that.’
But Ben still couldn’t see anything that hinted at a clue. ‘Fuck it,’ he muttered. He slashed again. Under the painted layer was a piece of plain hide, only slightly cracked with age.
Nothing.
But then Ben noticed something sandwiched between that and the layer below. He could barely make it out, but it looked like the yellowed corner of a sheet of papyrus. ‘Look at this,’ he said, moving aside.
Kirby examined it excitedly. ‘We have to be really careful. It could just crumble away in our fingers.’
Slowly, delicately, they separated the layers of ancient leatherwork until the papyrus could be removed intact. Kirby slid it out and balanced it on his palms as though it could disintegrate into dust at any moment.
The two of them peered down at the old document. In the upper corner was the seal of Wenkaura that was
