Текст книги "The Seventh Scroll"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

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He clasped his hands behind his back and stalked to the door. As he

opened it, Nicholas called after him.

"Mr Walsh!'

He turned back eagerly. "Yes?"

"Next time you may call me Nicholas, and I shall call you Peter, as old

friends."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Of course. What else is there?" Nicholas looked puzzled.

"Damn you," said Walsh, and came back to the table.

He dropped into his chair. "Damn you to hell and back!" He sighed and

pursed his lips, and then asked, "Okay.

How do you want it?"

"Two irrevocable bank drafts. Each for fifteen million." Walsh picked up

the intercom, and spoke into it.

"Please ask Monsieur Montfleuri, your chief accountant, to come up here"

he ordered dolefully.

Nicholas sat at his desk in his study at Quenton Park. He stared at the

panelling that covered the wall facing him. Although the panelling had

originally come from one of the Catholic abbeys dissolved by Henry VIII

in 1536 and had been bought by his grandfather almost a hundred years

ago, it was newly installed in this setting.

He reached under the top of his desk and pressed the hidden button of

the electronic control. A section of the panelling slid smoothly and

silently aside to reveal the armoured plate glass of the display cabinet

built into the wall behind it. At the same time the spotlights in the

ceiling lit automatically, and their beams fell on the contents of the

cabinet. The spots had been placed so that there was no reflection from

the glass window to distract the eye, and the beams brought out the full

glory of the double crown and the golden death-mask of Mamose.

He poured whisky into a crystal glass, and while he sipped it he

savoured the thrill of ownership. But after a while he knew there was

something missing. He picked up the Taita ushabd from the desk in front

of him, and spoke to it as though he were addressing the subject

himself.

"You knew the real meaning of loneliness, didn't you?" he asked softly.

"You knew what it was like to love someone you could never have."

He set down the statuette and picked up the telephone. He dialled an

international number and it rang three times before a man answered in

Arabic.

"This is the office of the Director of Antiquities. How may I help you?"

"Is Dr Al Simma available?" he asked in the same language.

"Please hold the line. I am putting you through!

"Dr Al Simma." Her voice sent an electric thrill down his spine.

"Royan," he said, and he could sense her shock in the long silence that

followed.

"You!" she whispered. 11 did not think I would ever hear from you

again."

"I just rang to congratulate you on your appointment."

"You cheated me," she said. "You switched the contents of three of the

crates."

"As a wise man once said, friends are the easiest to  cheat they don't

expect it. You, of all people, should know the truth of that, Royan."

"You have sold them, of course. I have heard a rumour that Peter Walsh

paid twenty million." 4– "Thirty million," Nicholas corrected her. "But

only for the blue and the Nemes. Even as I speak to you, the red and

white crown and the death-mask repose before me."

"So now you can pay off your Lloyd's insurance losses.

You must be very relieved."

"You won't believe this, but the Lloyd's syndicate on which I am a Name

has come up with much better results than were forecast. I wasn't really

broke after all."

"As my mother would say, "Bully for you."' "Half of it has already gone

to Mek Nimmur and Tessay."

"At least that is a good cause." Her tone tingled with hostility. "Is

that all you called to tell me?"

"No. There's something else that might amuse you.

Your favourite author, Wilbur Smith, has agreed to write the story of

our discovery of the tomb. He is calling the book The Seventh ScroU. It

should be published early next year. I will send you a signed copy."

"I hope he gets his facts straight this time," she said drily.

They were both silent for a while, before Royan broke it "I have a

mountain of work in front of me. If there is nothing else on your mind-'

"As a matter of fact there is."

"Yes?"

"I would like you to marry me."

He heard her draw breath sharply, and then after a long pause she asked

softly, "Why would you want anything so unlikely?"

"Because I have come to realize how much I love you." She was silent

again, and then she said in a small voice, "All right."

"What do you mean, "All right'T

"I mean, all right, I will marry you."

"Why would you agree to anything so unlikely?" he asked.

"Because I have come to realize, despite everything, how much I love you

back."

"There is an Air Egypt flight from Heathrow at 5.30 this afternoon. If I

drive like fury, I may just make it. But it gets me into Cairo rather

late."

"I will be waiting at the airport, no matter how late."

"I am on my way!" Nicholas hung up, and went to the door, but suddenly

he turned back and picked up the the Taita ushabti from the desk.

"Come on, you old rogue." He laughed triumphantly.

"You are going home, as a wedding gift."

EPILOGUE

which, -in the mauve evening.

They strolled along the corn Below them the Nile ran on eternally green

and slow and inscrutable, disposing of the secrets of the ages. At the

bank, below the ruins of the temple of point on the river once the great

barge of Pharaoh Ramesses at Luxor, where Mamose had docked with Taita

and his beloved mistress upon her prow, they paused for a while and

leaned upon ining wall. They gazed out to the coping of the stone reta

the darkening hills across the river. the funerary temple Time had long

since obliterated other' kings had and the great causeway of Mamose, and

ver the foundations. No man built their own monuments  red the tomb that

he had never occupied, had ever discover ted close to the secret opening

but it must have been situa gh which Duraid Al Simma. had entered in the

rock thrOu ered there the scrolls of Taita the tomb of Lostris and

discover in their alabaster jars.

silent in the gathering dusk, the'

All four of them were  firm friendship. They watched a cruise shared

silence  the tourists clustered upon boat pass coming upriver wi her

decks, still agog after ten days of voyaging from Cairo on these

enigmatic waters, pointing out to each other the great pylons and

engraved walls of Ramesses temple, their ntial in the hush of th all and

inconseque excited voices sm desert evening slipped her arm through

Tessay's and Then Royan alked on ahead. They made a lovely pair, the two

women wand honey-skinned, their laughter gay slim and young ads ruffling

in the sultry Puffs Of and sweet, their dark he and Mek  immur Saharan

air off the desert. Nichola followed them, each watching his own woman

fondly as they bantered.

"So now you are one of the fatcats, in Addis, you, the hard man, the

bush fighter, you are now a politician. I can hardly believe it, mek.,

"There is a time to fight and a time to make peace." Mek was serious for

a moment, but Nicholas mocked him " 11 lightly.

"I see that now that you are a politician you have to practise your

cliches and your platitudes." Nicholas punched his arm lightly. "But how

did you swing it, Mek?

>From dirty shufta bandit to Minister of Defence in one mighty bound."

"The money from the sale of the blue crown helped a little. It gave me

the clout I needed," Mek admitted, "but they knew they could never hold

a democratic election without me as a candidate. In the end they were

eager to have me on board."

"The only quibble I have with the deal is that you handed all that

lovely hard-won lolly over to them," Nicholas mourned. "Hell, Mek,

fifteen million iron men don't come along every day."

"I didn't hand it to them," Mek corrected him. "It was paid into the

state coffers, where I can keep an eye on what eventually happens to

it."

"Still, fifteen mill is a lot of bread," Nicholas sighed.

"Try as I might, I cannot approve of such extravagance, but I must admit

–Lat I do approve of your choice of running mate in your bid for the

Presidency in the coming elections."

They both looked at Tessay's slim back and bush of springing black curls

as she strode along ahead of them on shapely brown legs under the white

skirt.

"I may not approve of you as Minister of Defence, but I can see that she

makes a very charming Minister of Culture and Tourism in the interim

government."

"She will make an even more impressive Vice-President when we win next

August," Mek predicted easily, and at that moment Royan looked back over

her shoulder at them.

"We'll cross the road here," she called. Nicholas had been so engrossed

that he had not realized they had come up opposite to the new annexe to

the Luxor Museum of Antiquities. The two women waited for them to catch

up and then they separated and each of them took the arm of her own

husband.

As they crossed the wide boulevard, threading their way between the slow

clip-clopping horse-drawn gharries, Nicholas leaned down and brushed her

cheek with his lips. "You are really quite delectable, Lady Quenton

Harper."

"You make me blush, Sir Nicky," she giggled. "You know that I am still

not used to being called that."

They reached  the other side of the thoroughfare and paused before the

entrance to the museum annexe. The sloping roof was supported by tall

hypostyle columns, miniature copies of those at the temple of Karnak.

The walls were made of massive blocks of yellow sandstone, and the lines

of the building were clean and simple. It was very impressive.

Royan led them to the entrance doors of the museum, which was not yet

open to the public. The President was flying up on Monday for the

official opening, and Mek and Tessay were to be the official

representatives of the Ethiopian government at the opening ceremony. The

guards at the door saluted Royan respectfully and hurried to open the

heavy brass-bound doors to let them pass.

The interior was hushed and cool, the air conditioning  arefully

regulated to preserve the ancient exhibits.

The display cases were built into the sandstone walls, and the lighting

was subtle and artful. it showed off the wondrous treasures of the

Mamose funerary hoard to full advantage. The exhibits, arranged in

ascending order of beauty and archaeological importance, sparkled and

glowed in their nests of blue satin, the royal blue of the Pharaoh

Mamose.

The four visitors were quiet and reverential as they passed, their

voices soft and subdued as they asked questions of Royan. Wonder and

amazement held them enthralled. They paused at the entrance of the final

chamber, the one that housed the most extraordinary and valuable items

in this glittering collection.

"To think that this is only a small part of what treasure still remains

in Mamose's tomb, sealed by the waters of the Dandera river," whispered

Tessay. "It's so exciting that I can hardly wait for the adventure to

continue."

"I forgot to tell you!" Mek exclaimed, and it was clear from his

triumphant grin that he had not forgotten at all, but had been merely

waiting for the appropriate moment to impart his news. "The Smithsonian

have confirmed their grant to redarn the Dandera and reopen the tomb. It

will be a joint venture between the Institution and the governments of

our two countries, Egypt and Ethiopia."

"That is wonderful news," Royan exclaimed delightedly.

"The tomb itself will be one of the great archaeological sites of the

world, and a huge source of tourist revenue for Ethiopia-'

"Not so fast," Mek interrupted her. "There is one condition that they

stipulate."

Royan looked crestfallen. "What is their condition?"

"They insist that you, Royan, take'on the job of director of the

project."

She clapped her hands with delight, and then put on a mock-serious

expression. "However, I have my own condition before I accept," she

said.

"And what is that?" Mek demanded.

"That I am able to appoint my own assistant on the dig-' MW

Mek let out a roar of laughter. "We all know who that will be." And he

clapped Nicholas on the back. "Just make sure that none of the artefacts

cling to his sticky little fingers!" he warned.

Royan hugged Nicholas around the waist. "He has completely reformed, I

will now give you final proof of that." Still clinging to her husband,

she led them into the last chamber.

Mek and Tessay stopped in the entrance, silent with awe as they stared

at the contents of the free-standing display case of annoured glass in

the centre of the room, The red and white crown of the united kingdoms

of upper and lower Egypt stood side by side with the glistening golden

death-mask of Pharaoh Mamose in the brilliant light of the overhead

spotlights.

At last Mek Nimmur recovered from the shock.

Advancing slowly to the front panel of the display case, he stooped to

read aloud the brass plate fixed to the front of it: "'The Permanent

loan of Sir Nicholas and Lady Quenton, Harper."'

He turned back to stare at Nicholas incredulously.

"And you were the one who picked on me for turning over the money from

the sale of the blue crown!" he accused him. "How could you bring

yourself to give up your share of the loot, Nicholas?"

"It wasn't easy," Nicholas admitted with a sigh, "but I was faced with a

delicate ultimatum from a certain party who is not standing a million

miles away from us at this very moment."

"Don't feel too sorry for the poor boy," Royan laughed.

"He still has a big lump of Peter Walsh's money tucked away in

Switzerland, the proceeds of the sale of the Nemes crown. I was unable

to talk him into handing everything over."

"Enough of these public disclosures of my domestic affairs, said

Nicholas firmly. "The sun is long gone, and it's whisky time. I think I

saw a bottle of Laphroaig behind the bar at the hotel, Let's go and find

out if I was mistaken." He took Royan's arm and led her away, and the

other two followed closely, laughing delightedly at his discomfort.