The Khamsin Curse Read Online Free PDF Page A

it was not a trait
shared by all tycoons; some were frightful misers, stingy with
their loot. Dr Watson felt awful for giving the big American short
shrift.
    “Sand-grubber?” he said
quizzically.
    “I assume he was referring to
Professor Mallisham,” supplied the Countess. “I think the idea of
an archaeologist for a son-in-law is not a prospect pleasing to the
King of Texas.”
    They crossed the foyer and
reached the entrance doors when they bumped into the antiquities
trader known as Ali Pasha, though it was possible he had positioned
himself in the doorway so as to deliberately waylay them. He
inclined his head by way of greeting, introduced himself and
procured two business cards, seamlessly slipping them into their
hands before they knew what he was up to.
    “If you are wanting to acquire
genuine treasures of the Pharaohs please to make visit to Khan
el-Khalili Bazaar, Bab al-Badistan gate,” he said, smiling
unpleasantly to reveal a row of razor-sharp teeth. “All things in
shop of Ali Pasha are genuine. Statue of Horus, Ra, Sobek, and many
more. All the gods you want. Ebony, ivory, gold – you will
see.”
    “Do you have any mummies?”
asked Dr Watson, glancing down at the card and momentarily
forgetting he was in a hurry.
    “Yes, yes, many mummies to
choose. I can get for you what you want. Old Kingdom, Middle
Kingdom. Third dynasty, twelfth, male, female, dog, cat, crocodile
– what you wish, that I can get. Please to visit Ali Pasha.”
    “Thank you, Mr Pasha,” said the
Countess firmly, “we will keep that in mind.”
    This time they made it all the
way to the iron gates of the hotel where a queue of calashes
awaited them on the dusty road. Drivers jostled for attention,
calling out prices in an effort to undercut each other, but then,
strangely, they seemed to back off, as if intimidated by the
heavily-bearded, broad-shouldered driver who pushed his way to the
front. He was wearing a jellabiya, but not in cool summery white
like the others. His caftan was striped grey and black. Around his
head was wrapped the traditional cloth headdress known as an
ammama, also in black. Having no choice, our two sleuths clambered
into his calash and the horse trotted up the gentle slope to the
Giza Plateau.
    They had every intention of
climbing up to the top of the Pyramid but when they found
themselves standing at the base of the ancient tomb they conceded
the awesomeness of every individual block of stone and changed
their mind.
    “Man fears Time,” repeated Dr
Watson, gazing skyward, “and Time fears the Pyramids.”
    For a nominal fee the calash
driver offered to guide them inside the Pyramid of Khufu and into
the burial chamber of the Pharaoh. To have tons of stone hanging
above one’s head held up by gravity and the marvel of man’s
engineering ingenuity was an existential terror hard to describe.
Suffice to say, it was easy to see why people believed in gods.
    The burial chamber was empty
save for a stone slab on which had rested the sarcophagus of the
dead Pharaoh but the experience was nonetheless extraordinary and
once again the ‘sacred terror’ of the place was palpable - though
this time it was the gods who held their breath and the stillness
and silence spoke volumes about the power to inspire.
    When they staggered back into
broad daylight and stood under the burning sun where Dr Watson gave
out three hail Mary’s in the form of sneezes and they gave thanks
for being back in the land of the living, they proceeded to the
next wonder of the ancient world, even older than the Pyramids, the
date put at anything between 10000 BC and 2000 BC.
    The Sphinx had more myths
surrounding it than grains of sand.
    There was not even a consensus
on whether it was male or female. All agreed it was a lion couchant
built from mummulitic limestone approximately 240 feet long, 63
feet wide and 66 feet high but that’s where it ended. Was its name
an aberration of Sphingo: answer this riddle or I will