THEY ARRIVED FOR THE INTERVIEW first thing in the morning. Said Cohen was dressed like an explorer, in short pants, due to the stifling city temperature. He was so excited that the capillaries in his cheeks seemed to ooze blood from the high blood pressure they were under. He rubbed his calloused hands, with their short, chubby fingers, together in a sign of anxiety, similar to that of a fly in front of a dunghill.
Said's conversation with Antonia was so tedious that the cryptographer kept nodding in approval, her expression paralyzed and pitiful. She hoped, futilely, that he would decide to stay quiet, even if only to breathe. Sephy, meanwhile, stood beside Antonia without saying a word. However, she listened closely to everything that was being said, hoping to find a clue in the conversation that might lead her to the Ark.
After passing through the Archaeological Museum and avoiding the groups of tourists wandering back and forth, admiring the relics displayed in the display cases, they entered the staff area, where Khalib Ibn Allal's personal secretary awaited them. He was a dark-skinned man with pronounced cheekbones, slender and erect as a vine shoot, yet possessing enviable vitality. He greeted them courteously before leading them down the Arabian corridor that ended in a beautiful porphyry fountain. He knocked on the door as soon as they reached the director-general's office, opening it decisively without waiting for a response, inviting them in with an outstretched arm.
— Please come in... I've been waiting for you — Khalib stood up to welcome them, with a certain solemnity.
Ramdame — that was the secretary's name — left, closing the door behind him. The group of three sat down at the hospitable gesture of their host, who first offered them a cup of tea. They accepted the invitation after thanking him, somewhat intimidated by the majestic personality radiated by his slow gestures and indifferent gaze. His large, unusual robe somehow contributed to their discomfort in his presence, a feeling intensified by the sight of his aquiline nose, his bristling beard and mustache, and the supernatural fire radiating from his almond-shaped eyes.
This complex brought to Antônia's mind the legendary image of Imothep, an architect and physician from the III Dynasty, who is credited with building the stepped pyramid of Saquara.
— My secretary informed me this morning that you wish to speak with me about a matter concerning the pyramids — Khalib said, before sitting back down in his swivel chair. — I hope, for the sake of Egypt, that this will not involve requesting new permits for useless experiments that disturb the concept of our country's history... — He sighed, quite meaningfully. — You already know what we think about it.
The comment was addressed to Antonia.
— My aim is not to speculate on the possibilities that would open up new ultrasound explorations in the area, although I am certain that there are still many mysteries under the sand — replied the cryptographer.
— There's no doubt about that — Khalib added. — That's why new buildings were built at the entrance to the plateau. This way, the pyramid will be protected from the din of camel handlers and tourists. Only our archaeologists will work there.
— I am Egyptian — Said complained, — and no doubt I have been denied permission several times.
The principal was unfazed. He was accustomed to the tenacious teacher's reprimands.
— You, if I remember correctly, have worked for National Geographic magazine for many years.
— That's because Adel Hussein denied all my requests to work for the Egyptian government — Cohen replied irritably.
Adel Hussein was the general director of the plateau area, where the pyramids were located.
Antonia had hit a nerve with that question, something that bothered Khalib. Even so, she tried to be polite to her guests.
— I wish I could help you, but if what you want is permission to dig, I think you're wasting your time. As you probably already know, that's Adel Hussein's responsibility.
— But he is your right hand... — the archaeologist reminded her— ...I'm sure I could convince you if I wanted to.
— I'm sorry — the general director of the Archaeological Museum apologized. — We must be careful. If we made an exception for you, every archaeologist in the world would be all over us. Understand, it's nothing personal.
— All we want is to photograph the interior of the Great Pyramid, including the hieroglyphic complex of 'Jnum-Jufuy' and the sarcophagus — Antonia argued, hoping he would change his mind. — And perhaps visit the Chamber of Chaos as well.
Khalib found it strange that they felt such urgency for something they could have done months ago, before the ban, just as it still seemed like a waste of time to photograph what they had studied dozens of times. It was one thing to request permission to excavate in the Valley of the Kings, or even the Bahariya oasis, and quite another to search where everyone knew there was nothing left to find. Furthermore, the mention of the Chamber of Chaos put him on alert. His intuition told him to proceed with extreme caution.
— May I know what your reasons are for doing this, Miss...?
— ...Room... Antonia Room — she replied, lifting her chin. — My only interest is to find out how far Ancient Egyptian construction technology reached.
Hiram blinked slightly at the mention of his guest's name, though he couldn't help his heart leaping, nor could he stop his eyes from instantly shifting to the youngest of the three, Sephy.
There, before him, stood two of the people who knew the bricklayer's story. And one of them was the assassin hired by the master.
— And...? — he asked, very thoughtful.
— As we all know — continued the cryptographer —, in the 1940s certain manuscripts of great importance were found, which spoke of the first Christians who settled in southern Egypt.
They explicitly state that a mysterious society of builders fought in the past to combat ignorance by constructing prodigious temples in especially mystical places, monuments erected according to ancient standards that had remained hidden from humanity for thousands of years. We speak of a builder society called the Companions of Horus.
— I'll do something for you — he said, before completely losing his cool. — Come see me on Sunday and I'll take you to Giza myself…— and then he added — ...I suppose Adel Hussein won't mind if I accompany three members of National Geographic on a visit to the pyramids.
— Actually... — Said began to say, but a timely kick to the ankle, given by Antonia, stopped him from continuing.
— Couldn't it be this very afternoon? — the cryptographer insisted, trying to conceal her insistence.
— Impossible. I have matters to attend to.
— All right! — Said Cohen exclaimed, making a gesture of resignation. — I suppose we have no choice but to wait.
— That's right — Khalib Ibn Allal replied laconically. The archaeologist stood up, and the others did the same as soon as the conversation ended. Each shook the hand of the director general of the Archaeological Museum. When it was Sephy's turn,
Khalib felt the urge to ask her what her level of involvement in this matter was. First of all, he had to know her identity. So he questioned her gently.
— You're too young to have a doctorate... do you have any qualifications that accredit you?
For a moment, the German woman didn't know what to say, as she hadn't expected to be the focus of attention. Antônia found herself forced to justify her protégé's presence in that office.
— She's Sephy, the daughter of a good friend — he explained quickly, — and she's also my most outstanding student. I asked her to accompany me on this trip.
Khalib nodded silently. That was all he needed to know.
They were already leaving, the director general's impassive gesture clearly indicating the end of the conversation, when Antonia turned to ask him one last question. It was instinctive, as if for a second she could read the thoughts of that naturally elusive and enigmatic man.
— Could it be... that you've come looking for a man named Gregory Evans? — he asked point-blank.
— What did you say?
The director held his chin in a hesitant gesture, implying that he didn't know what she was talking about.
— Nothing, forget it... — the cryptographer smiled again and added — ...very well! See you Sunday, then.
They said goodbye again. Said Cohen thanked them for their time and for the tea. Khalib was equally gracious, approaching the door. He then called Ramdame to accompany his guests through the Archaeological Museum.
Minutes later, alone, Hiram approached his desk to make a phone call. It was the first time in his life he felt the need to talk to someone, and it was also the first time he felt truly threatened. Balkis would know what to do.