The Missing Capstone Read online

The Missing Capstone

  Dyego Alehandro & Alex Zabala

  Copyright 2014 Dyego Alehandro

  Cairo, Egypt

  1994

  A loud horn and equally loud Arabic swearing jolted Chauncy awake. He looked out the windshield and was mildly surprised to see an elephant blocking the road. The elephant morphed into a camel after several blinks and he sunk further back into his seat. He was exhausted. He’d been in the air or in airports for almost twenty-four hours. His body demanded sleep but he didn’t want to nod off again. He was in Cairo. Cairo! His first impression of the city had been a distinct disappointment; it was as modern a city as Denver or New York, two of the cities he’d traveled through from Wyoming. Like most Americans he knew, he’d pictured Cairo as being nothing but the old buildings of Ancient Egypt.

  But he’d gotten into a taxi and given his destination anyway, unwilling to let his broken expectations keep him down. He’d apparently fallen asleep a long time ago because now the city looked like he’d imagined it. The buildings were older, smaller, and definitely more Egyptian in architecture. Uneasiness began to spread through him as he looked around. He’d heard horror stories of cab drivers who drove their clients into dark alleys to be mugged.

  “Are you sure you know the way?” he asked in very garbled Arabic.

  “I speak English,” the cabbie replied, his accent just as garbled. “Yes I know the way.”

  Chauncy sat back and tried to relax. After all, he was finally in Cairo. The entire trip was a pre-graduation gift from his parents: a round-trip ticket to anywhere in the world. When he’d chosen Egypt they hadn’t batted an eye; why would their son, studying archaeology, have chosen anywhere else? If they’d known the real reason he was coming here they probably would have canceled the whole deal.

  He stared at the address scrawled on a worn piece of paper with a mixture of excitement and foreboding. One of his college buddies had listened to Chauncy’s crazy idea and had immediately stated he knew who could help: Jake Thrasher. The fact that his friend had already traveled the world four times instead of studying gave credence to the idea that he might know the right person for the job. But it was that same fact, and its associated lack of discipline, that gave Chauncy the foreboding. Would Jake Thrasher actually know how to help, or had Chauncy’s friend been really drunk when he’d offered up the name?

  The farther they got from the fancy part of town the more Chauncy’s dread grew. The old was mixed with the new out here, and as they traveled it increasingly became the old. The driver made a sudden turn down a dusty street and came to a stop.

  “Here you are, sir,” he said. “Your arrival.”

  Chauncy stared out at the old, non-descript building and felt his heart heading somewhere near his ankles. The blinking neon sign declared that it was The Old Banshee Bar. Or, at least, it would have said that if it wasn’t missing most of its letters. Now it just looked like it was called TOdneBar. He took a deep breath, paid the driver and got out of the car, clutching his backpack and attaché case to his chest. The taxi drove off in a cloud of dust and Chauncy knew he was going to strangle his ‘buddy’ when he got back. There was nothing to do but go ahead with this. He was already here and there wasn’t likely to be anywhere else to go before the sun set.

  He walked into the bar and was immediately assaulted by the smell. A hundred different types of cigarettes and cigars vied for supremacy in the air. Even with all that smoke haze Chauncy could still detect the telltale smell of alcohol and men who didn’t have easy access to indoor plumbing. The sound of a dozen different conversations in at least three different languages filled the room. In the background he could hear the bar stereo playing something from Gloria Estefan and he felt a little bit better. Maybe somebody here spoke English after all.

  “Hey!” the bartender shouted, proving Chauncy’s guess. “You American?”

  He nodded and walked over to the bar. “Yes I am. Is that a problem around here?”

  The bartender snorted and smiled. “Not always. What are you doing so far from downtown Cairo?”

  “I’m looking for somebody.”

  “Oh, like a girl?” the bartender asked with a wink and a broader smile. “There are quite a few nice ones here who’d be fascinated by an American for no extra charge.”

  Chauncy grinned and felt a little more at ease. There were some things that were universal no matter where you went in the world. “No, I’m looking for Jake Thrasher.”

  “That worthless bum? What do you want with him?”

  Chauncy rubbed his jaw. His fears had been right. “Why’d you call him a worthless bum?”

  “Because he is,” the bartender said matter-of-factly. “He does nothing but sit around this bar all day.”

  Yep, I knew it, he sighed to himself. Thousands of miles and dollars across the world just to call on the village drunk. He felt like an idiot but the next question had to be asked. Might as well go all the way. “Where can I find him?”

  “He’s over there in the corner,” the bartender said, pointing the way. “You sure you don’t want a girl instead?”

  “I’m sure. Thanks for the help, barkeep.”

  Chauncy peered through the murky depths of the bar and could almost make out a person sitting alone in a booth. It could just as easily been a pile of luggage but he headed in that direction anyway. He finally got close enough to see that it wasn’t, in fact, a pile of luggage and found himself pleasantly surprised. The man was well-dressed in a dinner jacket, white shirt and bolo tie. He was probably in his mid-forties, was Caucasian and was clean-shaven. Best of all, his eyes looked alert and intelligent. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he’d feared.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” the man said, his voice slightly accented. “Glad to see you made it in here alive. Welcome to Egypt.”

  Chauncy sat down and breathed a sigh of relief, the first time he’d done that since landing in Cairo. “It’s nice to meet you in person, Mr. Thrasher. I’m glad you got my letter.”

  Jake smiled wanly. “Tell you what. If we dispense with the pleasantries I’ll order you a drink. What’ll you have, Chauncy?”

  His mind raced over the various popular Egyptian drinks. “I’ll have a Sakara, Jake.”

  Jake whistled over a waiter, placed the order, and then folded his hands across his chest. “You’ve come all the way from Wyoming just for me and your letter didn’t say why. Why?”

  He instinctively clutched his attaché case tighter and glanced furtively around the bar. “I really don’t think I should be saying this in public. Especially in…such a seedy location.”

  Jake readily agreed. “This place does seem to attract the low-life, doesn’t it? Tell you what, I’ll take you to my place and we can talk. My vehicle isn’t too far from here.”

  The waiter brought their drinks but Jake waved them away and started out of the bar. Chauncy followed quickly, not wanting to be alone in this place anymore. The glaring sun was just beginning to set beyond the horizon, casting sharp shadows everywhere in sight. The people looked even more sinister than when he’d first arrived. Jake led the way down narrow, dusty side streets, a meandering path that Chauncy immediately lost track of. If Jake turned out to be a waste of time there was no way Chauncy would be able to find his way back to civilization. He fervently prayed that he’d make it out of this alive.

  Jake led the way to an empty field and Chauncy felt his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. “What is this, the Red Baron?” he asked incredulously.

  Jake smiled as he climbed up into the two-seater biplane. “Technically, Red Baron was the nickname of the pilot, not his plane. And Manfred Von Richtofen flew a Fokker triplane. This obviously does not have three wings. Climb in.”

 
“But…but…”

  “I told you my vehicle was nearby,” Jake said. “I never said what kind of vehicle it was. Climb in.”

  Chauncy could hear a distinct note of amusement in the other’s voice. He really didn’t want to spend more time in airplanes. He especially didn’t want to fly in an ancient relic flown by what might or might not be a drunken bum. But, once again, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He climbed into the back seat, shuffling his luggage into a very uncomfortable resting location.

  “Where did you get this old thing?” he asked.

  “A customer couldn’t pay for a job with cash and offered me this. I’ve had a pilot’s license since I was seventeen so I jumped at the chance to own a Boeing Stearman. Now sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  The engine sputtered and coughed for a few seconds before blazing to life in a deafening roar. Jake taxied the vehicle down a dirt runway before cutting into full gear. The small biplane was airborne in seconds and climbed away from the setting sun. Chauncy quickly forgot all his worries and fears and looked down at the city below. The buildings looked like small brown boxes and off in the distance a silhouette made his heart skip a few beats. “Are those the pyramids?” he shouted over the noise.

  “Sure are!” Jake shouted back. “Just hang on for a few minutes and you’ll get a close-up view.”

  The magnificent ancient structures seemed to glow brighter as they approached and Chauncy could scarcely breathe. These buildings were the reason he’d chosen archaeology as his major. These buildings were the reason he was here in Cairo. He was looking at his life’s aspirations from a vantage point he never thought he’d enjoy.

  Jake circled the pyramids three times, long past the point where the sun had set and the spotlights had turned on. Chauncy felt a strange sort of sadness as the plane turned one final time and started away from the pyramids. His trip had not been a total waste. Even if he never got the information he needed and failed in his quest, even then he would never consider this a failure. He’d seen the Giza plateau from the air and just for a few minutes he’d gazed into the past.

  The engine sputtered and then suddenly quit and Chauncy wished he’d never come here. He screamed as loud as he could as the plane suddenly started down.

  “Shut up and let me concentrate!” Jake yelled as he desperately pushed buttons and pulled on levers.

  Chauncy squeezed his eyes and his mouth shut. He felt his stomach lurching and trying to exit his body through his head. He didn’t want to crash. He didn’t want his body splattered across the very soil he’d just recently been admiring. The faces of his friends and family flashed through his mind and he absently realized he was praying.

  The engine sputtered back on with a jolt and the plane leveled out. By the time they landed, ten or fifteen minutes later, Chauncy still hadn’t unclenched his jaw. Jake apologized for the condition of the plane and promised to have it checked out first thing in the morning.

  Chauncy didn’t talk much as Jake led the way down a dusty, narrow street. He finally stirred when a familiar neon sign flashed in the darkness and caught his attention. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said tiredly. “You nearly killed me just so you could bring me back here?”

  Jake grinned. “Yep. This is my place. I live upstairs.”

  “We just wasted precious time and raised my blood pressure for nothing?”

  “I seem to recall you enjoying the view of the pyramids,” Jake said with a bit of extra steel in his voice. “Besides, there’s nothing we can do at night, not in Egypt. Relax.”

  Chauncy felt like arguing but deep down he knew Jake was right. He had enjoyed the view of the pyramids. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Now let’s get upstairs and you can tell me all about your little errand.”

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  Jake’s apartment was a welcome relief compared to the exterior of The Old Banshee Bar. It was small but very nicely decorated, and it seemed designed from the ground up to be as comfortable as possible. The armchairs and sofa looked deep enough to swallow somebody whole, the ceiling fans were large and almost silent, and the window shades looked like they would block most of the harsh sunlight.

  “You never got your drink in the bar; would you like one now?” Jake asked as he pointed Chauncy to a chair.

  “I’m parched,” Chauncy admitted. “I’ll take anything.”

  Jake walked over to the kitchen and Chauncy looked around some more. The living and dining room were connected to the kitchen in one big open area, but there were two doors to the side that he guessed led to the bed and bathrooms. It was cozy and posh and he really liked it. It was so many levels above the bar below.

  He felt his face burning a little as he suddenly realized something. He cleared his throat. “I must apologize that I called your bar a seedy location. I didn’t know you owned it.”

  Jake laughed as he poured an amber liquid into a couple of glasses. “And you’ll notice I agreed with you and said it attracted lowlifes. That’s how I like it. Makes a good front for my real business. Which brings me to my point: what do you need my services for?”

  Chauncy accepted the glass and took a sip. It was a rather excellent scotch. “I’m here to prove my doctoral thesis and impress a girl at the university,” he said with a grin.

  “Ah, young love,” Jake said. “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Anita Forester. She’s brilliant and she’s gorgeous. We share a few classes in Atmospheric Sciences.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows. “Weather? I thought you were working on archeology. What’s she going to be, a weathergirl?”

  Chauncy mock-glared at Jake. “No, she’s going to be a nurse. She picked a few weather classes so she would better understand how weather affects people, especially those with arthritis. I picked it because it will help me get an idea of how ancient cultures would have reacted to weather and climate changes.”

  “Noble reasons,” Jake said and Chauncy couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “Please continue.”

  “How much do you know about the pyramids of Giza?” Chauncy asked.

  “Surprisingly little, considering how close I live to them,” Jake answered as he sat down. “They’re big and a tourist attraction, both of which I tend to avoid.”

  Chauncy patted his attaché case. “I have more details about the pyramids in here than most people will ever know. My doctoral thesis is about the Great Pyramid, or the Khufu Pyramid. Do you know anything about the missing pyramidion, or capstone?”

  Jake shrugged. “Ah, capstones. I know a little about them. They are very rare. The Cairo museum only has four of them. I once—nevermind. What about the missing capstone?”

  “The Great Pyramid is more than it seems,” Chauncy said. His eyes lit up as he talked about his favorite subject. “It’s the most precisely-built structure in history. Its pyramidion would have been significantly larger than any of the others and it would have been covered in gold or electrum. I’m convinced that it was removed for a specific reason.”

  “Isn’t it generally assumed that it was looted?”

  Chauncy snorted. “Do you have any idea how much it would have weighed? Not to mention the difficulty involved in climbing all the way to the top of the pyramid in order to get to it. No, the capstone was not looted, at least not by normal grave robbers. The whole reason I’ve come here to Cairo, and to you in particular, is…I think I know where it is.”

  Jake actually sat up a little straighter. “The Great Pyramid’s missing capstone. Do you have any idea how valuable that would be?”

  “It would be one of the greatest finds in recent archaeological history,” he agreed. “I’m hoping that selling it will help finance your part of my mission.”

  Jake chuckled and finished off his drink. “I sincerely hope you brought some real money with you, Chauncy. If I worked only on the promise of finding lost artifacts…well, let’s just say that I would have died of starvation decades ago.”
r />   “How much will your services cost me?”

  “I don’t know yet. You’ve carefully avoided telling me where this capstone is supposedly located.”

  “You’ll forgive my caution, I hope,” Chauncy said a bit defensively. “This is not an ordinary business transaction.”

  “I can agree with that, but I still need an idea of what I’m going to be doing before I can name a price. I’m still not entirely certain why you haven’t just gone out and found it yourself.”

  Chauncy braced himself. “The Egyptian Museum rejected my requests for official backing. That means the only chance I have of finding the capstone—”

  “Is to do a little digging of your own,” Jake interrupted. “Illegal digging. Right?”

  Chauncy seemed to shrink a little. “I haven’t even graduated yet. There’s no way anybody will accept my views on the subject, especially on such a lost cause. This is the only way I can prove my thesis.”

  Jake waved his hand in dismissal. “I do this sort of thing all the time. I can pave the way for you, and we can do it as quietly as possible. Where are we digging?”

  Chauncy perked up at the mention of ‘we.’ “So you’re in?”

  “I need money before I do anything, Chauncy. I need to know where we’re going.”

  Chauncy braced himself. “We need to go to Abydos.”

  Jake’s eyebrows tried to reach escape velocity. “Abydos. That’s just a little bit outside of Cairo.”

  “I know, I know,” Chauncy said. “But my friend spoke highly of your skills. Quite frankly, you’re the only chance I’ve got at this. And yes, I just weakened my bargaining position considerably by admitting that.”

  “There may be a slight problem,” Jake said as he leaned forward. “Abydos is over 500 kilometers away. That’s two hundred kilometers beyond my normal operating range. Even worse, it’s right on the border between the Sohag and New Valley Governorates. It’s been a hotbed of rivalry between several black market groups for years. I’m not on good terms with any of them.

  “So…what does that mean?”

  Jake rubbed his jaw and gazed at nothing in particular. “What exactly is your plan? Just go someplace in Abydos and start digging?”

  Chauncy stiffened a little. “Give me a little more credit than that. I was hoping to rent a house, and then start digging.”

  Jake couldn’t help but chuckle as he finished off his drink. “I sometimes miss Americans. Do you know where in the city you would like to rent a house?”

  He rummaged around in his backpack and pulled out a small map of Abydos. “This is the temple of Seti I, not a bad tourist attraction. But it’s far too new to be of interest to us. Seti I was nineteenth dynasty, Khufu was fourth. The temple of Ramesses II is also too new. Less than a mile northwest, however—”

  “Is the much older Osiris