ANTONIA SAID GOODBYE to Professor Said at the door of the restaurant where they had had coffee after her interview with the general director of the Archaeological Museum. She promised to call him the next day, though her intentions were very different. Afterwards, she and Sephy approached the central station to catch a taxi to take them to their hotel.
— I'd like to know something... — the young German woman began slowly. — What do you expect to find inside the pyramid... — turning her head to the side, — ...as far as I know, there's nothing inside.
In the square, a group of folk dancers played their tambourines and danced, while uttering strange sounds, caused by the loquacious movement of their tongues and the acoustic vibration of their vocal cords.
Antonia stopped in the middle of the street to look at the girl.
— I think it's time for you to know the truth... — she stated seriously — ..., especially since your life is also in danger.
— I don't like this at all... — She frowned, clearly showing her annoyance. — In fact, I'd rather you speak up as soon as possible! —
The cryptographer silently considered her companion's decision. Then she looked around, as if someone were watching them.
— It would be better if we returned to the hotel. We would be safer there — she suggested in a low voice.
Sephy knew perfectly well that the redhead's attitude was another ploy, a ruse to impress her. Nevertheless, he supported the idea of returning as soon as possible.
— I agree with you — were his words.
An hour later, they were enjoying aperitifs at a table on the splendid veranda of Mena House. Sephy had changed her clothes and looked her usual self. Despite the heat, she wore a large leather jacket. — It's like my second skin — she retorted dryly when Antonia warned her about the relentless Egyptian sun. After a response like that, her companion thought she was too old to take advice.
Her priority was to present a parallel story that would address Sephy's doubts. She needed to regain her trust, making her believe she was on her side. She knew that, when the time came, she would need a significant hostage to exchange. Monroe was part of the lodge and a member of the Widow's Sons— she was absolutely certain of that. She wouldn't hesitate to hand over the Ark to him when she saw her daughter with a gun pointed at her head.
— Listen, Sephy... — he decided to act, putting his Machiavellian plan into action. — I want you to promise me that everything you hear will always remain between us. You will never speak of this matter to anyone. Come on, swear! — he pressed, with false anxiety.
— I give you my word!
— For now, that is enough... — she sighed complacently, and then concluded enigmatically — ... although I hope your discretion will remain firm when you hear what I have to tell you.
— I don't know anyone and I have no friends in Spain... only my father. And by keeping quiet I will get him back... so rest assured that I will keep my promise.
He almost felt sorry for the drama that young woman was going through, but then the cryptographer returned to being her usual professional self.
— she had been trained for situations like this. The best thing to do was to obey orders and forget about the collateral damage.
— The reason Umbert, your father, could never contact you was because it was one of the strictest rules of his job — he deliberately lied. — And I'm not talking about his work as an architect, but as an agent of the National Intelligence Center... I'm referring to the Spanish espionage service.
— My father is a spy? — the German woman, a consummate actress in full performance, acted as if this genuinely surprised her.
— You can call him that if you wish. His job involves deciphering encrypted messages for the Spanish government. That's why he lives far from his family and friends, taking refuge in his Santomera bunker. It's the only way to keep his dual identity a secret.
— And how do you know all this? — Sephy asked with some trepidation.
— Because I also work for the National Intelligence Center, like Greg and Colmenares... — he replied bluntly. — And please save your questions for last.
The young German woman obediently agreed. She should continue with the game.
— A week ago, your father translated an ancient manuscript dating back to the sixteenth century — he continued quietly. — The document was encrypted, which is why its rightful owner, a paleographer who worked for an auction house, sent it to him by e-mail shortly before his death under strange circumstances, due to his friendship with Monroe.
Antonia interpreted the story according to her convenience.
— Then he contacted the National Institute of Natural Resources (CNI), warning the agency that the document described how to access an ancient relic of incalculable value, guarded by a Masonic order that operates under the premise of assassinating anyone who violates its secrets. Once informed, my superiors decided to send us to Murcia to contact Monroe, but he had already disappeared, accompanied by his niece... And I'll tell you more. She, by chance, worked with the paleographer at the auction house. Furthermore, she is Greg's romantic partner, a rather opportune coincidence considering that Greg disobeyed his orders by coming here without consulting anyone. Worse still: I have the impression that he deceived us and is, in fact, a double agent...
He frowned and continued his charade.
— If my suspicion is correct, he would work for the secret society that hides the relic we're looking for. Both he and Giovanna planned your father's kidnapping, there's no doubt about that... —
He cleared his throat, unwillingly, just to think about the last words.
— Indeed, I would bet my very soul to the devil that they keep him shut up in one of the secret galleries beneath the great Pyramid.
— That's why we went to visit the museum director... — Sephy added, pretending to begin to understand the meaning of this sudden trip. — But tell me something... how do you know these corridors really exist?
Antonia looked away toward the Giza plateau, where the pyramids stood. Then she turned her gaze to Sephy.
— Because there are certain documents that prove my theory, in addition to the evidence obtained in the late 1990s — he finally replied after a brief pause. — Among them is the Book of the Dead, which mentions doors leading to the underworld of the gods, a detail on which Arab and Coptic writers agree. There is also the strange story of Caliph Abdullah Al-Mamum, who was the first to access the Great Pyramid and claims to have been in a room filled with treasures, weapons that did not rust with the passing of time, and crystal prisms from which light and heat emanated — the same room that was found centuries later by archaeologists Kinnaman and Petrie, or the very same Farouk, who was the son of King Fuad of Egypt. —
— I ask you to forgive me, but this all seems like science fiction to me.
The German-born assassin was genuinely surprised. If that were true, within Khufu lay traces of a civilization superior to any known, and several countries would be interested in acquiring the wonders described by these extraordinary witnesses. They could demand whatever they wanted from them.
— I know it's hard to accept, but the Spanish government is willing to take the risk— the cryptographer stated with calculated solemnity.
— Okay... Earlier, you mentioned my father's lawyer — he recalled. — Why don't you share with us the risky mission of entering the Great Pyramid?
The previous afternoon, he had mentioned that he had legal matters to resolve, which is why she had no choice but to assign him an activity related to the CNI, but which also temporarily removed him from the case.
He remained in Madrid to examine in depth some documents we found at the auction house — she replied cautiously.
— In any case, I count on the help of three agents who remain incognito here in Cairo.
The German woman pretended to be surprised as she looked around.
— Is it true? — he asked, with an expression of someone who believed everything. — And where are they now? —
— Trying to find Greg. He'll take us to your father. As soon as...
At that very moment, Antonia's cell phone rang, so she paused her conversation to answer the call. She listened attentively for a few seconds, in silence. Her face, previously expressionless, now formed a brief smile of satisfaction before saying goodbye in English. Then, putting the phone back in her pocket, she turned back to Sephy.
— They've located him... — The cryptographer's eyes shone in a special way. — We have Gregory Evans!
After identifying themselves several times at the various checkpoints the Egyptian army conducted in the region, and thanks to the presence in the taxi of the wife of the director general of the Archaeological Museum, who showed them a safe-conduct pass signed by Adel Hussein, they finally arrived at the Giza Plateau. Asking the driver to wait for his return, Balkis got out of the car, carrying the obelisks, and went straight to the Pyramid of Khufu. Gregory Evans followed in his footsteps.
There they are! she exclaimed, visibly proud. — The most controversial buildings in history. No one knows when or why they were built, but everyone feels overwhelmed by their imposing presence.
The detective felt sand beginning to seep into his shoes. The sensation was very uncomfortable. And worst of all, he had to hurry to keep up, as Balkis was very agile for his age and was several meters ahead.
The truth is, they are impressive — Evans said, out of deference.
If you're thinking that now, wait until you hear what I have to say... — He cleared his throat slightly and continued. — ...Your concept of the pyramids will seem childish to you when you learn the truth.
You should tell me as soon as possible, he complained. My shoes are full of sand.
Hold on a little longer. Only a hundred meters to go. They continued walking, this time in silence. The sun beat down on their heads like molten bronze. Of the two, Balkis was the least affected by the high temperatures, as his head was covered with a silk scarf, the rest of his body hidden under a woolen robe. The detective, dressed in Western fashion, felt the harshness of hell in his flesh. He was on the verge of fainting when they finally reached the north face of the Great Pyramid.
I thought she was closer to the road — Greg gasped, resting both hands on one of the huge rocks in the first row.
As soon as he came into contact with the ancient stone, he felt a shudder that shook his body from top to bottom, a wave of contradictory sensations that froze his blood in his veins. He quickly pulled his hand away.
— Did you notice? Did you notice your magic? — Balkis asked, realizing what was happening to the Spaniard. He hesitated for a few seconds before speaking.
— What was that? — he said, restraining his excitement as much as possible. — I felt something strange when I leaned against the rock, like an electric shock, like a jolt.
— It seems to me that she welcomed you... — was the smiling opinion of Balkis, who left the obelisks on the sand to sit on one of the limestone blocks. — You count on her favor, and that means I was right and that you are, indeed, the chosen one.
Evans rolled his eyes.
— But what are you saying...? — He provoked, astonished.
— Can't you see that it's just a pile of burning rocks? It's not possible that they behave like a living being!
He thought, seriously, that all this was madness. There was no point in talking about Cheops as if he were a conscious creature.
— He is sure?
— Of course, without a doubt! — he exclaimed instantly, shaking his head. — Rocks are not born, they do not reproduce, nor do they die.
— So... what happened?
Balkis was amused as he watched the European trying to find an answer that seemed coherent.
— I don't know for sure... — he shrugged and added pragmatically — ..., but I'm sure there must be an explanation for all of this.
— The only thing I can tell you is that ancient alchemists believed in the existence of a stone capable of dissolving human consciousness, extracting its feelings, and sublimating them into divinity. According to the Summun Bonum, each person is a living stone, and this spiritual rock we call God. When the temple is consecrated, its dead stones transform into a living being, and thus, man can regain his primitive state of perfection and innocence.
Gregory pondered the Widow's words, even though he was sweating profusely, his face dripping wet, and it prevented him from thinking clearly. Finally, he convinced himself that there must be a logical explanation for all this.
— Is this how I will speak to God? — he asked in a neutral tone, purely out of curiosity.
— In reality, it will be Him speaking to you. — A new riddle to solve — he thought.
— One more question... Is this the region of Tubal-cain, as Jacobus of Carthage believed? — he persisted. — And if so... where are the columns described in the manuscript?
that remain buried under the desert sands since the time after the Flood?
The old woman's face became circumspect. Her austere gaze disturbed the mind of her interlocutor.
— To your first question, I will answer yes: we are treading on the lost city of Enoch. As for the second, I still believe you are blind. You are incapable of seeing reality. Pay close attention! — she urged him, resting one hand on the rock where she sat and pointing with the other to the pyramid of Khafre. — These are Shakim and Boaz, the temples that were built by Tubal-cain and his brothers before the Flood, to preserve the knowledge of God through the ages! And you didn't even realize it.
Although he disapproved of him, he felt sorry for him.
The detective, for his part, was speechless. It had never occurred to him that the pyramids could constitute a monument to Wisdom, much less that they were part of biblical architecture. Then he remembered the Tower of Babel.
But, beyond the legend, there was something that didn't fit.
— If it is true, as you say, that these are the columns the mason describes... why does he place them as buried under the desert, when, in the Great Pyramid in all its splendor. Then he turned his restless gaze to the Pyramid of Khafre. There stood the two most enigmatic structures in history, observing the stupidity of some men who believe them to be monumental. The truth is, as Balkis had said, imagining something like that was impossible for the human mind.
— So...? — he didn't even have the strength to speak, he noticed that his mouth was sticky.
— Yes, Greg — she told him. — Here, beneath our feet, lies the true and only dwelling place of God: a cathedral of inconceivable dimensions buried beneath the desert sands, a building of which we can see only its capitals. And within it lies the Throne of God and the means to connect with the cosmic knowledge of the Universe.