The Amulet of The Pharaohs

Chapter One.

Jerusalem,

Israel.

BENJAMIN AMIKAN LOOKED UP TO see a familiar face entering his little antique shop in the back streets of old Jerusalem. It was a typical hot, dusty Jerusalem summers day, and business was slow. The last thing he needed right now was someone trying to sell him some piece of junk, made up to look like a valuable ancient artefact. The Israeli government was coming down hard on dealers selling fake pieces and Amikan wanted nothing to do with that market. Time after time he rejected suspect items, and possibly even real ones, just to keep on the right side of the law. The man in front of him was a regular visitor to his shop, but rarely had anything worth buying. Today would probably be the same.

Shalom Josiah, how can I help you today?

Shalom Benjamin. I have an item that you will want to buy. It looks Egyptian to me, but I will let you be the judge, said the visitor, putting his bag down on the counter and taking out a small object wrapped in dirty cloth.

I found this in a trinket shop at Khirbat Abu Qashtah in the Gaza Strip. The owner wouldn’t tell me where he got it, and would only say he bought it from a Shepard who lives miles out of the town. The onyx box caught my eye, because of the hieroglyphics on the outside, but when I opened it and saw what was inside I brought it straight to you.

Amikan sighed thinking he was wasting his time as he unwrapped the little package, placing the dirty cloth to one side. Before him on the counter was a small, beautifully carved onyx box, complete with a fitting lid and each of the four sides was carved with delicate Egyptian hieroglyphics.

He recognised some of the symbols, including the symbol of the Egyptian god Horus, and stood looking at the box for a few minutes before carefully lifting the lid. The object inside was wrapped in a fine linen cloth that looked old. Amikan looked up at his visitor and asked, Where did you get the linen cloth?

As God is my witness Benjamin, the cloth was in the box exactly as it is when I first saw it in the shop.

Amikan was about to tell the man to stop lying, but his curiosity got the better of him so he carefully lifted the piece of faded linen out of the little box. He noticed the Horus symbol imprinted in the cloth and gently pulled back the folded corners to reveal the contents. The cloth contained a single piece of black onyx, 6 inches by 4 inches, which had been finely carved from top to bottom with hieroglyphics. The workmanship was of the highest standard and Amikan felt his heart rate go up. This looked like a genuine artefact, but he couldn’t tell for sure. Forgers made a living out of producing artefacts good enough to fool Museums, and it was getting harder and harder to tell the real items from the fakes.

He held the stone tablet in the cloth as he turned it over. There was nothing on the back of the tablet except a fine carving of the ‘Eye of Horus.’ Amikan took the tablet to the window to look at it in better light so he could examine the carvings. This was not the work of some back room forger. The depth and quality of each carved symbol pointed to a craftsman who spent his entire life working this craft. Benjamin looked at Josiah studying his eyes. He could see nothing but anticipation there.

Tell me the truth Josiah, where did you really get this item?

Josiah stared back at Amikan holding his gaze the whole time.

You offend me Benjamin, I have told you the truth as God is my witness, and you still question me. If you don’t want this piece, I will go. The only reason I brought it to you is because you are an honest man, and it is getting harder and harder to find an honest man to deal with in this city. I will leave you, Shalom.

And with those words he gathered up the tablet, folded it in the cloth, placed it in the box then wrapped them in the dirty cloth.

As he turned to leave, Benjamin Amikan grabbed him by the arm and said, Come sit in the back room my friend, you and I need to talk business.

The two men went into the back room and Amikan made the man tea. They sat at an old wooden table in the dingy room then Amikan asked, What is your asking price for the item?

A smile crept across Josiah’s face and he said with excitement, I knew you would like it. It cost me four hundred shekels, so taking in to account my travel and other expenses I think six hundred shekels is a fair and honest price.

Amikan choked on his tea and said, Josiah, I’m a dealer, not a charity. I like your item, but I don’t like it that much. I will give you four hundred and fifty, not a shekel more.

Josiah sat in silence for a moment then he said, You drive a hard bargain my friend, but you will not own this treasure for such a pittance. I’ll sell it to you for five hundred and fifty, and that is my final price, take it or leave it!

Amikan laughed, secretly enjoying the sparing match then replied, Your little stone trinket will be mine today but it will only cost me five hundred shekels. And that is MY final offer!

Josiah knew the negotiations had reached an end so he held out his hand in a gesture of friendship. The prize is yours Benjamin, but you have robbed me blind, he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Tell me my friend, what was the name of the shop you found this piece in?

The shop of Ammer Sihwail in Khirbat Abu Qashtah, but don’t bother going there, he has nothing else of value.

‘If this item is what I think it is, he has information more valuable then you will ever know,’ thought Benjamin Amikan as Josiah left with his money.

Chapter Two.

Archaeology Department,

Jerusalem Museum.

THE DIRECTOR OF THE JERUSALEM MUSEUM’S Archaeology Department, Doctor Saul David, sat at his desk studying a piece of clay pot, with a large magnifying glass. David was a small man; very average looking and his baldhead made his hooknose look larger than it really was. He had a monk’s hairline, from ear to ear, with a hairless dome on the top of his head. David did not realise it but his glasses were actually coming back in fashion, and were now called ‘John Lennons’ after the glasses worn in the 70’s by the famous Beatle.

He held the magnifying glass up against a part of the clay pot then sighed. It was a fake. The etching on the motif had been touched up to make it look old but as he brushed it with a tiny paintbrush, the etching flaked off onto his desk.

David put the clay fragment and the magnifying glass down, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day and he was ready to go home. Not that he had anything much to go home to. His wife of ten years had recently walked out on him to move in with someone she had met at one of her work conferences. They had no children, which was one of the reasons she threw at him for leaving. The other being that David was married to his precious Museum and was never home to have sex anyway. Secretly he felt inadequate because he could not father a child and the desire he once had for his wife had just melted away over time. He did miss her company though, even if they had spent the last three months of their marriage fighting.

David wiped the lenses of his glasses with a cleaning cloth and turned to pick up his briefcase as the phone on his desk rang.

Saul David.

Shalom Saul, this is Benjamin Amikan. I trust all is well with you. I have recently bought a very special item that I think will interest you. If you are free, I would like to bring it to you now for your inspection.

Benjamin, thank you for your call. I’m really very busy just now, could we make it in a few days time, my schedule is full, and I’m having trouble keeping up.

Saul, I know you think that I’m trying to con you with some fake artefact, but this item is one that you will really want to see. I’m sending you an email with photos of the item. Please examine it and call me if you want to take it further. If I don’t hear from you within the hour, I will take the item elsewhere. Shalom my friend.

David heard the ‘You have mail’ signal on his computer and scooted his chair over to the screen. He opened the email, looked at the photos and gasped. With one hand he turned on his printer and with the other he hit ‘print’ on the computer. Four photos rolled out of the printer and he picked up the magnifying glass to study each one. The images were very clear and he examined the photo of the box for some time before moving to the linen cloth and then the onyx tablet. The final photo of the ‘Eye of Horus’ on the back of the tablet held his attention for a full five minutes. There was a small bookshelf on the wall above the computer. David reached up to get an old book titled ‘A Glossary of Egyptian Hieroglyphics’ by Doctor Samuel Birch, the British Egyptologist. He thumbed through the pages of the book, stopping as he found what he was looking for, and exhaled deeply.

The phone on Benjamin Amikan’s shop counter rang and Saul David said,

Benjamin, I need to see this item immediately, can you bring it to me at the Museum, or would you like me to come to your shop?

I’ll bring it to you Saul, and I should be there in fifteen minutes.

Chapter Three

Cairo, Egypt.

THE FIFTY SHADOWY FIGURES GROUPED around the temple altar chanted an ancient chant of worship. Three men in white robes led the group; one wore the robe of the High Priest. His name was Ahmed Hamad, in his other life he was the Egyptian Government Minister for Trade and Commerce. His parents had fled from Gaza to Egypt during the 1980’s and made a fortune in their new land, buying and selling gold and precious stones. Ahmed Hamad was hugely wealthy and powerful as a result, and had very few friends. Hamad was six foot tall, lean and muscular. His black curly hair sat like a bush on his head and his evil dark brown eyes and drooping black moustache gave him a sinister, almost devilish look. His nose was pronounced and sharp and his lower jaw jutted forward more than most. People who met him agreed that he was a man to avoid. Anyone who had business dealings with Hamad knew better than to cross him, because his enemies often vanished without trace.

When the chanting stopped, Hamad led the group in a closing prayer. The disciples broke into small groups and struck up multiple conversations, as Hamad pulled one of the white robed men aside and spoke softly to him.

Has Doctor Blakehurst had any success in her quest?

None that we know of Lord Hamad. Our spies are working alongside her at the dig and they report that she has found nothing that will help us. I am getting reports every twelve hours and our men will call me the moment there is any new discovery.

Is she aware we are watching her?

No, she is carrying out her work in a normal way. We have no indication that she knows of our presence or anything about us.

So she has not questioned the credentials of Barea Jabir or any of the others?

Jabir has worked with her now for three months and she confides in him as you would with any work assistant. His cover is secure, he awaits your orders.

Hamad turned to the second man and said, Are the plans in place?

We are ready, we only await the prize.

The troops?

In training as we speak and ready to act the moment you command.

Send Blakehurst a little present, we don’t want her to slacken her efforts.

It will be done Lord Hamad.

Hamad turned and walked through a large velvet curtain at the back of the altar into an anti-room at the rear of the building. He removed his High Priests robe and underneath he wore an expensive black Armani business suit. The only exit from the room was through a small door in the wall. As he stepped outside his personal chauffer jumped out of the waiting Mercedes limo to hold the car door open for his boss.

The Limo left the compound and drove at speed into the Cairo traffic. Twenty-five minutes later Hamad was sitting in his grand office at the Egyptian Government Building, answering emails.

Chapter Four

Ancient Cemetery of Abydos,

Nile River,

300 miles South of Cairo.

THE AIR TEMPERATURE HAD TOPPED 105 degrees fahrenheight and the workers were having their midday break, waiting for the heat of the day to cool a few degrees before returning to the dig.

Renowned Egyptologist Doctor Karen Elizabeth Blakehurst, sat in the door of her tent with a cold lemon flavoured mineral water in her hand. The desert was kicking up a strong wind and it looked like a dust storm could be about to roll in. She felt frustrated to say the least. Blakehurst had been at this dig for three months and so far had not found anything of great significance. Archaeology was like that; chance, not good management usually stumbled across the greatest finds.

She was 32 years old, pretty looking in a girl-next-door kind of way, five foot eight inches tall and weighed only 128lbs. Her long blond hair tied in a simple ponytail flapped in the strong wind as she wondered if the dig was over for the day.

Barea Jabir, her assistant, stood outside the door of his tent and looked casually at Blakehurst. He despised the Oxford University educated woman, and especially disliked the fact that she was his superior. No self-respecting Arab man took orders from a woman, he resented very aspect of his position. If he weren’t working for Ahmed Hamad, he would have taught this white upstart bitch a lesson she would never forget. Maybe he still would.

Karen Blakehurst was in two minds about what to do next. Should she dismiss the workers for the day so they could get back to their villages before the dust storm hit, or should she ride it out and hope it would be short so they could get more work done with the little daylight they would have left?

She was obsessed with the dig; it was an all-consuming passion. They had been working on the tomb of Pharaoh Peribsen of the Second Egyptian Dynasty, but the tomb had been looted many times over the past 4000 years and little was left. Some promising fragments of pottery and a single gold coin with the likeness of a Pharaoh was all they had unearthed, so they had begun excavation on the floor of the tomb, looking for anything that may have escaped the numerous looters and treasure hunters.

The dust storm was building into a fierce dark cloud, so she made the quick decision to send the workers home and to bunk down for the night. This type of storm sucked the life out of you, it made even breathing hard work. Blakehurst dismissed the labourers then closed the flaps on her tent, doing the best she could to keep the fine dust particles out. The air temperature in the tent went up twenty degrees without the airflow, and she was soon bathed in sweat. She lit a small gas lantern just as the storm hit.

The cloud of orange dust swept into the campsite like a blast from a cannon. Daylight faded to an orange gloom and the tent shook with the force of the wind. Karen wrapped a linen scarf around her face then sat down to wait out the storm. Everything in the area was covered in a thick layer of fine orange sand and dust. It clung to the sides of the tents and covered the trucks and four wheel drive vehicles outside. The dig was engulfed in a three-inch layer of powder. All the work they had done for the past three days was brought to nothing.

The air in the tent was thick with fine particles, which floated like mist throughout the enclosed space. Her face, clothes and skin began to turn orange as the dust stuck to everything it touched. She had a random thought of Christmas snow back in England and the blazing fire her father lit every morning in the cold English winter. It all seemed like a dream as the tent shook and groaned with the strong wind.

After an hour, the wind began to subside as the sky started to lighten. The storm blew itself away to the desert on the far side of the camp. Karen carefully opened the tent door, and looked out on the orange world around her.

She shook her head and said out loud, Welcome to the fun side of archaeology Blakehurst, you studied all those years to be here, so enjoy it!

Before the words were out of her mouth, her satellite phone rang, catching her by surprise.

Karen Blakehurst.

Good afternoon Doctor Blakehurst, this is Saul David from The Jerusalem Museum, I trust you are well?

Yes thank you Doctor David, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?

I am calling you because of an interesting item that has come into my office, but before I go on, please tell me, is your phone encrypted?

Yes it is, she replied.

Excellent, I have an item that needs your inspection and interpretation. It looks genuine to me and if it is, we could be on the brink of an archaeological discovery that will rival the tomb of Tutankhamun. Can you come to Jerusalem to view it? I believe it will be well worth your while and my museum will pay for your air fare.

Doctor David, I really can’t leave the dig I’m working on, too much time and money has been invested in it and I would risk losing my sponsor if I did. I have a computer link here at the camp, can you send me photos or details of the item you have?

I’m sorry Doctor Blakehurst, but I cannot risk sending any details of this item to you. The only place I will show it to you is in the security of my museum, and it will be kept locked in our museum vault in the meantime. Please excuse my intrusion, but I was told you are searching for something of great value. I believe that this item could provide clues for you to find what you seek. Obviously I am mistaken.

How did you know the purpose of my dig? Blakehurst demanded. Our objective has been kept secret from everyone, including the Egyptian Government and even the majority of our sponsors. And especially from anyone associated with museums.

My dear Doctor Blakehurst, I have contacts in all areas of archaeology, even in England, and some people just can’t be trusted to keep their mouths shut. That is why I asked you if your phone was encrypted. I certainly wouldn’t talk to you about this on a normal phone line, and I’m convinced that certain people are watching your dig with great interest, just in case you do find what you are looking for. Don’t even trust the people you are the closest to. Egypt, like so many other countries, runs on graft and corruption. The person you trust the most will sell you out if the offered price is high enough. You may think you have a possible lead to what you are looking for in the tombs, but I believe what I have will give you much more that you would ever find in Abydos.

Karen was lost for words and indecision tore at her thoughts. If what David was saying was true, this could be the breakthrough she had been searching for, but on the other hand it could be just another one of the long list of dead ends she had already investigated.

She decided to take the best option and said to David, When does the plane leave?

Chapter Five.

The Jerusalem Museum.

DOCTOR SAUL DAVID CAREFULLY PLACED the parcel, wrapped in the dirty cloth on the table in front of Karen Blakehurst. Removing the cloth, he stood back and allowed her time to examine the outside of the onyx box and the hieroglyphics. Karen’s heart jumped when she saw the tiny box. On the outside she saw the hieroglyphs for Pharaoh Narmer and the god Horus. She took time to look at each symbol then carefully lifted the lid off the box to examine the contents. The ancient linen cloth was faded and brittle, so she gently laid it down on the table then used a pair of long nosed tweezers to open the folds in the linen. The black onyx tablet inside was highly polished and beautiful to look at. The rows of small symbols were in perfect lines, the craftsmanship was obviously ancient. Karen picked up David’s magnifying glass and looked down the rows at each finely carved hieroglyph.

She made no comment as she studied the tablet then said, I believe this is a genuine artefact, do you agree Doctor?

Yes Doctor Blakehurst, and I also believe that it could lead us to the greatest archaeological find of our time. Do you see the symbols for Pharaoh Dudimose and Pharaoh Narmer linked together in the text? This can only mean one thing; there is a trail and it will lead us to the treasure you have been seeking.

If I could interpret all the symbols, I would be able to fully understand the text, but it is written in ancient hieroglyphs and I’m not sure of the meaning of some of them. Have you checked them against your reference books for the meanings?

I have around forty percent of the text translated, but like you, I’m not familiar with the bulk of the text, and I can’t seem to find any scholar who is. What do you suggest we do?

Karen thought for a moment and said, There is only one man I know who is an expert on these symbols. He’s working on a dig near Abu Simbel, and I think we will be able to entice him to come to Jerusalem. Let me call him.

In the Egyptian desert, two miles from the great Temple of Ramesses II at Abu Simbel, Professor Harrison Owen was checking a small piece of clay pottery he had just unearthed when his satellite phone rang. He put the fragment down and pulled the phone from his belt clip.

Harrison Owen.

"Harrison, Karen Blakehurst. I need to share