lately?”
“No, but I’d love to.” Felix’s eyes lit up at the thought of his childhood friend.
Etienne was the sort of man people remembered. Lean and devilishly handsome, of individuality he had plenty – and charm to match. He was known for his impulsive enterprises. His romantic adventure with a beautiful young woman, a married woman, was the scandal that led to his assignment and swift despatch to Syria. There he served as a liaison officer in the French army, and that was the last Felix had heard from him.
“He’s back from Syria and should be here by week’s end,” Victor said.
Felix grinned. “Now you have me interested.”
“We have a lot to talk about; so tell me, what are your plans?”
“Ah! Plans. I was hoping to acquire one between here and London, but it seems I’m out of luck.”
“Would you take a new chance? Something different, er, how should I put it? Perhaps a different number.”
“Well, when you spin the roulette wheel, choose a number for me.”
“I already have,” Victor said without hesitation as their eyes met. “It’s Egypt.”
“Huh, that’s a good win. I’ll cash it in,” said Felix as they both burst into laughter.
“Then you’ll come?”
“Of course I will.”
“Good, that’s an unspoken prayer well answered.”
Felix raised his voice over the din of laughter and the piano: “Now tell me, what’s all this about treasure, pharaohs and…”
“Shush.” Victor moved his glass aside and leaned forward. “People have ears.” Then he settled back a little as he wiped his forehead with his hand. “You and Etienne want adventure; well I am going to give you that and more. What you must know is that we have rivals, professional rivals and very unprofessional rivals. So you need to be sharp, discreet and cautious, because they will take more interest in us than you are prepared to believe. Don’t misunderstand me – Egypt can be dangerous.”
“Dangerous,” repeated Felix.
“But of course! You must not underestimate the deceit and opportunism amongst those in pursuit of ancient Egypt’s treasures and knowledge. There are many reputable scholars, and even more unprincipled scoundrels. The hint of a prize or reward can cloud their judgement, and override any principles they have left.”
“It doesn’t sound boring.”
“I can promise you it’s not,” said Victor as he looked up at the waiter hovering around their table. “I can see you enjoyed the slice of Esterházy.”
Felix nodded his agreement.
“Then let’s finish the coffee; there’s something I want to show you, back at the apartment.” It had been raining and icy winds gusted between the buildings, bringing with them big raindrops as a prelude to the next shower. After a brisk walk down narrow, dimly lit streets, they were back again. A door closed as they reached the stairs. “The janitor,” said Victor in a low voice as they moved up the stairs. With the drapes drawn, four lamps illuminated the sitting room in soft light, giving it a cosy feel.
“Whisky?” His uncle poured out two glasses.
“Why not? But tell me why we are in danger.”
“I thought I already did. The reason is very simple. I know where the lost treasure of Ramses is.”
Felix almost dropped his glass. “No! Are you serious?”
“This is no joke, but the serious part is that someone knows that I know, and I have no idea who.”
“Not even a suspect?’
“Well a friend of mine, a certain Curt Reinhardt who works for the Berlin museum, always suspected that we were onto something. He’s the only one who may have a clue – and by we, I mean I had a partner, an Englishman by the name of James Beaufort. They were bitter rivals.”
“What happened to Beaufort?”
“About four years ago he disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Felix frowned.
“Yes, vanished.”
“Do you suppose he found this treasure and split?”
“Of course it entered my mind, but he wouldn’t do that – he had nothing to gain, and too much to lose. What’s more, the British Foreign Office looked into the disappearance on behalf of his relatives in England. It was quite an investigation; even so they came up with nothing. Then, and this is the strange part, he was apparently seen in Cairo about two years ago, and then again in Siwa, more recently.”
Felix stroked his chin as he asked: “What if someone got to it first?”
“Then you would be reading about it on the front page of every newspaper, as you do about Carter and Carnarvon.”
Felix started again, “What stopped you getting it?”
“It took a while to find the exact spot. It’s a rocky outcrop with a pile of sand on top and a pinnacle of rock in front of it, which sticks out of the surrounding sand like a big thumb. This is in the Sahara, about six hundred miles from Cairo in a blazing sea of sand. When the war started, the Sanussi, stirred up by the Germans, revolted against the British in that region. After the war, once everything settled down, Beaufort went to Siwa to start a base. Being classified as German, I was threatened with arrest if I tried to enter the Sanussi stronghold. Beaufort could go freely as he was British. Then he vanished. He did reach Siwa – eventually I went there – and that’s where his trail goes cold.”
“And the treasure, did you see it?”
“I couldn’t go near it. I was constantly watched.”
“How did you find out about it?”
Victor did not reply; instead, he rose and walked over to the wall of bookshelves, where he reached for a thick book in a set of four. “This venture needs strong young men, men like you and your cousin Etienne – he was in the desert in Syria and is fluent in Arabic, quite a linguist I’m told. You’ll make a good team.” As he spoke he removed several books and a crystal vase from the shelves. Then he pushed aside the back panel to reveal a small wall safe. He opened it, and took out a soft leather pouch. After putting on a pair of white cotton gloves, he unrolled a papyrus on the bureau du plat, while Felix looked on with increasing interest.
“Have a good look. It’s this papyrus that gave me the clue. When I bought it I didn’t know what it was, neither did Beaufort, so I showed it to Reinhardt. He wanted to buy it immediately; he became so excited I realised there must be more to it. So I asked Schiaparelli, curator of the Turin Museum and an eminent archaeologist, what he thought of it. He wanted it for the museum, but was good enough to tell me what it is. This is the Book of the Dead from the funerary treasure of Ramses II. These writings are prayers for his acceptance into the afterlife. It’s priceless.” Victor looked at his nephew, who remained silent. “The real secret is where it was found.”
“In Siwa?” asked Felix.
“Bravo, now you’ve got it.”
“Perhaps I should put it in better perspective for you. Several very select pieces have been offered to me, secretly, as a seller could be arrested and forced to reveal his source. The government has strict guidelines on antiquities: they can be confiscated and penalties applied. Over the centuries tomb robbers have learnt to be very cautious.
“I dabbled in this clandestine business for twenty-five years and learnt many things. The imprudent amateur could be ruthless, and reckless. On the other hand, professionals and academics were aloof and stubborn. This gave a favourable chance to a middleman, who was neither imprudent nor impractical. I was considered such