The Lost Tomb of Cleopatra (Brook Burlington Book 1) Read online

  "Tom, no; we're all on the same team here," Katy pleaded, "You have to believe us!"

  Katy stumbled, out of shock she thought, but then her foot caught something wooden sticking out of the sand—

  The crack of rotten timber was unmistakable.

  "What the hell?" Saa managed to utter, before the whole structure gave way and he and Katy were hurtling down below, just as Muller and Brook had done.

  Tom stared at an empty desert where Saa and Katy had been just a moment before.

  "What the hell is right!" he uttered, for a moment doubting his own sanity. Had the gods taken them the way they'd taken Brook? Would he be next? Was this Osiris taking aim on all mankind, one at a time? He looked up to the heavens and let out a scream of anger.

  Brook gasped for breath. She spit sand from her mouth, and was covered in dirt and debris; her mind couldn't quite understand why Saa and Katy were groaning next to her in this deep hole in the ground. As even more sand rained down on her, she managed to stand, shade her eyes against the rising sun, and could see Tom appear over the edge.

  "What are you doing?" Brook asked.

  Tom did not respond.

  "Thank God you found me." Brook turned her attention to her two friends, helping them to their feet. "Are you guys all right?" she asked.

  "He's got a gun," Katy whispered to Brook. "He's gone nuts, and he's got a gun."

  Brook helped Saa up. He seemed okay, too. "Why?" She whispered back to Katy, her back to Tom.

  "I don't know, but I think he intends to kill us all," Katy replied.

  Brook turned, looking up, trying to figure out what she could do about that.

  "Tom..." she began, and then stopped.

  The amazement on Tom's face took Brook's breath away. "Is it...?" Tom asked Brook. "Is that Cleopatra?" he asked with boyish wonder.

  "I'm sure it is, Tom," Brook told him with the biggest grin she could muster. "It's the real thing. Cleopatra and Antony."

  For the first time, Brook spotted the silver pistol.

  Tom said nothing; staring blankly into the tomb, as three scared and confused faces staring back.

  "My father sent me here, you know,” Tom said eventually. “He set everything up: sent Ali the underground radar images that hooked you, figuring the lure of finding Cleopatra would just be too much to pass up. Dad had Ali on the payroll the entire time, and gave him the diaries, but knew he couldn't be trusted, that he'd pick the girl over the job. That's why he sent me, put me on a leave of absence, dropped me in the desert. He wanted me to screw with you, just like he screwed with your father. But then…then I fell in love with you." Tom eyed the gun in his hand, turning the barrel towards himself a moment, then pointing it back down into the tomb.

  "Tom…Don't shoot us, please," Brook begged. "This is a career find. Your find. This puts you in the history books. We did this. Together. It doesn't matter what happened to our fathers because this is our legacy now."

  "No, Brook. It's yours. This is what you have worked your whole life for. When I got here, I knew my instructions, but I also knew that Ali was watching me, reporting back to my father. After a while, my choice was simple: betray my family or betray my heart. Make no mistake; my father is a dangerous man. Even here in the middle of God-knows-where, I'm sure he knows exactly where we are, and you can be sure he'll try and kill us all to claim whatever treasure is down there." Tom's head lowered.

  "It's all very Shakespearian, isn't it? Here I am soliloquizing at the edge of Antony and Cleopatra's tomb, a modern-day Romeo destined not to be with his Juliet because of our families' history. You know their fate, don’t you? All four of them died for love. Well, our story is nearing its end, and I fear my fate will be the same. Parting is such sweet sorrow, Brook. And now I die." Tom sank to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes and then began to flow. Brook, Saa and Katy watched on as Tom raised the pistol to his temple. Katy screamed in horror, and Brook covered her mouth to suppress her shock.

  BANG.

  The pistol fell, and for a moment no one knew what to think, least of all Tom, whose face went goofy-blank, eyes wide as the sound of shovel blade on skull echoed below. He fell forward, out cold, descending the full twelve feet while Saa leapt in to push the women aside, letting Tom’s shoulders hit bottom.

  Above, the sun was now making it even harder to see the figure above them.

  "Professor Green!" Brook exclaimed as she realised. "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm not entirely sure," he gasped breathlessly—both from excitement and exertion. "Is he okay? I didn't mean to kill him—I really didn't."

  Saa shoved Tom's head with his foot. The unconscious groan Tom made didn't sound promising. "He's fine," Saa stated flatly.

  "Is that Tom Manor?" Green asked.

  "Yes—" Brook started to say.

  "Are they there?" Green asked desperately. "Are Cleopatra and Antony down there?"

  "I believe they are,” Brook called.

  Green let out a helpless, joyous squeal that brought tears to Brook's eyes.

  "Listen, he said there were people coming," Katy interrupted urgently, pulling her camera back to her face, trying to cover it all through everything. "You've got to get us out of here."

  "There are ladders on the trucks," Saa suggested.

  "This sand is too loose," Green answered back. "And your ladders aren't long enough. I'm just as likely to collapse the whole thing on you and bury you alive—"

  Suddenly, they all heard them; vehicles, cars and trucks—and a helicopter—

  Green looked into the distance, and glanced up at the sky.

  Saa picked up the gun and tossed it up to Green.

  "Here! Take this!"

  Green caught the weapon, but he wasn't sure how it would help. Half a dozen SUVs pulled up to the east, and to the west, a couple of 3 or 4-man helicopters hovered low, kicking up dust, and preparing to land. He stood tall, facing the danger from both directions.

  "This is what you wanted to do with your retirement?" Green muttered to himself for courage. It's the least he could do, he figured, before dying—come up with a couple of quips for the ages.

  Gradually, the trucks shut off, the helicopters landed, and some semblance of quiet reigned once again the desert. Green held his gun steady, aimed at the men getting out of the first truck. They all carried automatic weapons, and he understood he didn't have a chance, but he wasn't planning on giving up the fight. He'd worry about the helicopters behind him if he had the time. A door slammed, and a figure stepped out of the last vehicle. Their leader, Green supposed, by the way he swaggers.

  Suddenly, Green grinned.

  "Well well, Strelov!" he called out. "Good to see you again!"

  Down below, in the hole, Katy and Brook looked to each other. "Strelov?" they said simultaneously.

  Up on the surface, a similar confusion worked its way among Grekov's men.

  "Hello, Professor!" Grekov called back. "I remember you! Turkey, wasn't it?"

  "That's Grekov," Katy remarked.

  "That's right, Strelov! Exactly. Turkey. The Anatolian Plain."

  "Grekov is Strelov," Brook realized with a gasp.

  "Your name again?" Strelov inquired.

  "Professor Stuart Green."

  "Well, Professor, I'm afraid you're caught in the middle once again," Strelov remarked. "Behind you is Raymond Manor, who I imagine is after the same thing I am."

  "I suppose he is," Green muttered to himself.

  "Go ahead, take a look," Strelov suggested. "He's older, but perhaps you will remember him as well." Green turned. Sure enough, half a dozen gunmen flanked Raymond Manor, who Green hadn't seen in decades, but would never forget as long as he lived.

  "Not worth dying for, is it, Professor?" Strelov asked.

  Green didn't answer. He was no longer sure. There they stood, Manor and his men on one side, Strelov and his men on the other, guns trained on each other, with the professor between them, a bloodbath to come.

  "J
ust my luck," Katy whispered to Brook down in the hole, "to be here when all the action's up there."

  She, Brook, and Saa stared up into the gaping hole helplessly. Tom, on his back now, did the same, but it wasn't clear if anything was making sense to him yet.

  Slowly, up above, an idea dawned—maybe he heard it, maybe he sensed it, but Green turned, counterclockwise, away from Manor and his men, long enough to see a fluttering in the distant sky. Green reversed himself, turning the other way—a far-away cloud of dusk formed to the east. Slowly, making no sudden moves, Professor Green turned to Strelov and raised his gun-hand high in the air, aiming skyward.

  "I give up! Don't shoot!" Green called.

  He raised his other hand, too, backing up slightly in the direction of the helicopters. Another step and he felt the rim of the hole at his feet, the sand just giving way. He reached back with his other foot, a full stride this time, standing on thin air for a second like a road-runner cartoon before he slid—less controlled than he'd hoped for, down into the hole, sticking his ribs out to take the brunt of the impact, until he reached the bottom where Katy and Brook caught him.

  Meanwhile, out of sight, blasts of automatic gunfire filled the air. From the sound, more helicopters and vehicles seemed to have arrived, and then there was shouting over megaphones and PA systems, in Arabic and English. Brook, Green, Katy, and Saa took what cover they could find and listened. Even Tom regained consciousness enough to find a spot to wait and listen in relative safety.

  "Drop your weapons! You are under arrest!" was the gist of it finally, and by the cursing back in Russian, it was clear Strelov and his men were outnumbered and forced to surrender, along with Raymond Manor and his small, mercenary force.

  "I made a few calls," Professor Green told the group down below.

  "Professor Stuart Green?" a militiaman called from the rim of the chasm.

  "That's me. I'm Professor Green," Green called back.

  "We are from the Libyan National Army," the soldier announced. "Are you all right?"

  Green and the others felt safe enough to step out and take a look at the soldier up above. He held a weapon and wore a serious-looking, wide leather belt around him, attached to a rope to keep him from falling in too.

  "Mostly fine—maybe some broken bones, but nothing life-threatening," Green replied. "Can you get us out of here?"

  "We'll try. This thing is likely to collapse any moment. We have to use the helicopter."

  As if on cue, a helicopter hovered overhead, just a hundred feet in the air. They quickly pulled the militiaman out of the way and sent down a harness from the chopper. It took all three—Katy, Green, and Brook—to get Tom into it. He was the most badly hurt—possibly a busted skull, certainly a concussion, but not dead.

  Katy got the whole thing on film, including the looks of Brook and Professor Green watching with quiet victory on their faces.

  64

  Alexandria, Egypt

  "Exactly the way it happened with your father, Cale," Professor Green told Brook that night, once they were back in Alexandria. "Except for the ending. A very different ending this time."

  "Thanks to you," Katy remarked, camera rolling again, even during supper.

  "I just couldn't let it happen again if I could help it," Green answered, reaching over and shutting Katy's camera off.

  The discovery of Cleopatra and Antony's tomb was already a worldwide sensation, and the thriller aspect to its discovery wasn't lost on the media. Katy, Brook, and Green had already done a dozen interviews, as had Saa and even Tom Manor, from a hospital bed. The rest sat in jail awaiting charges.

  Katy's documentary—if she could edit it in time before everyone forgot the story—would also be a huge sensation. Unfortunately, the final shootout, which the media played up like the "gunfight at the OK Corral," had all taken place off-screen, to Katy's eternal annoyance. Ten men had been wounded, but all were expected to live.

  Katy picked up her camera, placed it on the other side of the dining table out of Green's reach, and turned it on again. "So you're saying Grekov was Strelov all along?" she prompted Green.

  "That's right."

  "Pretending to be some low-life thug. Like that movie with that guy—" Katy realized.

  "What movie? What guy?" Brook wanted to know.

  "He was like the big ring-leader but he acted like he was nobody, just one of the guys, limping around like a handicapped person."

  "Doesn't ring a bell," Brook stated.

  Katy was cut off before she could reply by the chime of Brook’s phone. She answered, and listened for a minute while the other two watched, and then hung up and composed herself. "Tom's going to be okay.”

  "Thank God," Green whispered. "You two are going to need to have a long chat, you know."

  "Later. Ask me about the tomb," Brook insisted suddenly, shrewdly avoiding the topic, and handing the camera back to Katy.

  Playing along, Katy framed her friend. "You were in that tomb all night..."

  "All night long, with just a flashlight," Brook spoke sternly. "It's what I'd lived my whole life to see; the tomb of Cleopatra and Antony, and saw it I did. At least the outer parts of it, decorated by a man of mystery—a sculptor by the name of Neferu. During the night, I found evidence that Neferu had come to the tomb many times, bringing more and more objects to adorn it during his lifetime, carving every surface, and at one point sealing it for good, leaving a place for his own dead body. That night, not only did I find his burial shroud, but those of his wife and his children. He rested with the queen he loved, with the Egypt they all loved, which is all gone now."

  Katy let the camera linger on Brook's face before panning to Green, who seemed moved by the heartfelt epitaph.

  Tears welled in Brook's eyes too. "The man I loved was Neferu," she admitted pitifully. "Like that old horror film, The Mummy, with Boris Karloff. That one I remember."

  They all laughed.

  "Talk about long-distance relationships!" Brook sputtered. "A continent away and, oh yeah, about two thousand years."

  "And he was married. Don't forget the man you loved was married," Katy added, putting her arms around Brook's shoulder.

  "Thanks for reminding me, Katy. Thanks a lot."

  They laughed again.

  65

  Morgantown, WV

  Brook said farewell to Ali from the other side of a chain-link fence surrounding a minimum-security facility near Cairo, where he awaited trial. Most of his fellow inmates were corrupt officials, political dissidents, or petty thieves, he told Brook, and he got along with them just fine. Ali had endeared himself to the prosecutors by telling them all he knew about Strelov, his men, and his operation.

  Brook had been at the dig-site in Libya for a full two months, enough time to do the last Pharaoh justice, she believed, and had left the remaining operation in good hands.

  "I bet you'll be happy to get back to America and your new boyfriend," Ali suggested wistfully.

  "Ali, I don't have a new boyfriend," Brook admitted.

  "You don't?" Ali asked.

  Brook smiled. She had no idea if he was pretending. “You knew that!"

  Ali shook his head sincerely. "I hoped the boyfriend was true, for your sake."

  "Thank you."

  "And I hoped he wasn't, for mine."

  Brook laughed.

  "BB, when I get out of here—"

  "No, Ali. No. I'll do everything I can to help you get out, but after that...no."

  Ali nodded. "Fair enough," he said. “What about Tom?”

  “We’ll talk,” Brook said, allowing herself the opportunity to smile for a second before turning around and walking away from Ali Rahman forever.

  ***

  It was unclear who was happier at their reunion—Saqqara or Brook.

  Before Katy's documentary came out and the whole excitement of the Cleopatra find broke out again, Brook enjoyed the peace and quiet of campus—with two new locks on her office door, a host of new passwords
on her computer, and some new-found friendships. Professor Green had insisted on her escorting him to faculty functions—for Physics and Astronomy, Art, and Anthropology. Brook hadn't realized Green had so many friends.

  "Neither did I," he admitted, when she told him.

  They drifted apart, and upon retirement—just a year later—Green walked out of the building with convictions "to travel the world" and never set foot on campus, or even in town, again.

  "It's just you, me and the ghosts," Brook Burlington commented, scratching a spot behind Saqqara's ear late one night in her office in Woodburn Hall.

  THE END

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  The Lost Tomb of Cleopatra is a work of entertainment. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locations and persons is coincidental. Having said all of that, I did rely heavily on research throughout the writing process, and in many cases, the line between fiction and reality is somewhat blurred.

  Cleopatra VII and Mark Antony were, of course, real people. Their death and their whereabouts the stuff of legends. The conventional story, which Katy alludes to in the novel, is that Cleopatra committed suicide through a snake bite. Other academics believe she was murdered by Octavian’s army. The date of Cleopatra’s death, August 12, 30 BC, was determined by T.C. Skeat, who worked at the British Museum. I consulted a number of works to learn more about Ancient Egypt, but relied primarily on two sources: Egypt in the Age of Cleopatra by Michel Chauveau and Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff.

  The search for Antony and Cleopatra’s tomb continues, with dig teams focusing on the site of Taposiris Magna mentioned in the first chapter of the novel. Several intriguing discoveries have been made on the site and it seems very likely their expedition will successfully uncover the tomb.

  Neferu, the stone carver, is a fictional character, although I’m sure some Egyptians would have remained loyal to their royal family over the Romans. It is also plausible that someone would have considered moving Cleopatra’s body to a more remote location to help ensure their queen could rest peacefully.