The Blue Scarab E-Book

James Quinn

• Herausgeber: Europa Edizioni
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

This fast-paced novel sweeps the reader up into an amazing adventure, beginning with the discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb.
A cult, dedicated to the goddess Isis, will go to any lengths, including murder, to protect Egyptian antiquities from plunder by Osiris, an exclusive men’s club. Two powerful Egyptian Queens, Cleopatra and Nefertiti, are resurrected by the cult through dark magic passed down through the ages from the dawn of Egyptian civilization. As Samara and Nigel get caught up in the web of intrigue between Isis and Osiris, they begin to unravel the mysteries of the ancients as well as dark family secrets.
As preordained, only one Queen will survive, with the consequence of unleashing catastrophic forces threatening the world’s very survival.
In the cult’s pursuit of a mystical talisman, the Blue Scarab, the reader is taken within the sacred halls of the Vatican, revealing intrigue and cloak and daggers as diabolical as any mad Roman Emperor’s court, and back in time to the dazzling ancient civilizations of Egypt, Rome and Greece. All set against the backdrop of star crossed lovers, whose destinies have already been decided by the Fates… 
The novel is epic in its breadth, exploring the paradoxes of civilizations, religions and humanity’s quest for immortality. 


James Quinn lives in Southern California and is the author of the novel  Nightshades of New Orleans and  The Vampire’s Orchids. He is an attorney who enjoys writing fiction.

Leseprobe

James Quinn

The Blue Scarab

© 2021 Europe Books| London www.europebooks.co.uk | [email protected]

ISBN 979-12-201-1431-8

First edition: December 2021

Distribution for the United Kingdom: Vine House

Distribution ltd

Printed for Italy by Rotomail Italia S.p.A. - Vignate (MI)

Stampato presso Rotomail Italia S.p.A. - Vignate (MI)The Blue Scarab

This is dedicated to Silvia, my moon goddess.

With special dedication to my amazing muses, Cybele,

Randy, Fiona and Dylan.

As well as to those determined souls who have risked all in seeking treasure…and discovering it when least expected.

“Upon the conduct of each determines the fate of all”

― Alexander the Great

Chapter 1

Cairo, Egypt 1947

The sands stirred, drifting across the Egyptian desert, as Cleopatra lay in her crypt, dreaming of her beloved Sphinx, illuminated by the rising sun, beckoning and caressing her, warming the cold stillness which had surrounded her for centuries. The black, placid waters of the Nile turned red as the turbid blood began to course, once again, throughout the Queen’s ancient body. In the distance she could hear jackals howling, announcing a new beginning, a return of the incarnation of the goddess Isis, lost to the ages, though still revered by her devoted followers.

The ground above her mausoleum in Alexandria began to shake, creating a rift in the undulating drifts of sand, which had buried the royal chamber over the centuries. The consecrated earth, which had hidden the Queen’s final sanctuary, parted, revealing the entrance to Cleopatra’s tomb.

****

Nigel had just finished his second gin and tonic at the Cairo Hotel’s bar when the earthquake struck. The sudden movement of the earth sent liquor bottles flying and guests fleeing the bar in panic. He had been observing her for the past hour, sitting by herself at a table across from the bar. She wore a red evening dress, dark hair entwined with pearls, an opal necklace gleaming on her neck. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She rose suddenly from her table, to join other guests hurrying out of the bar. Nigel noticed the brilliantly painted sarcophagus, which stood at the entrance to the bar, begin to sway, its ancient hinges creaking. Within moments, he had his arms around her, pulling her out of harms way as the sarcophagus crashed onto her table, shattering into glittering pieces of ebony and gold.

They stared into each others eyes. His, green jade, deep and haunting as the Mayan pools of Tikal, where she and her father had explored the ruins for days on end searching for ancient artifacts. Hers, a violet, startling as a desert sunrise reflected in the Nile.

The shaking was over in minutes, but it seemed an eternity to the young woman, before Nigel helped her to her feet standing attentively before her, brushing golden pieces of the sarcophagus from his wavy blond hair and leather jacket.

“Are you alright?” he smiled at her, still holding onto her hand. “I’m fine. I suppose I should thank you for saving my life Mr._?” “Nigel Ellis.” She was taken aback momentarily. “Is your father Lord Ellis, the famous explorer?” Nigel’s smile broadened.

“You know my family, Miss_?” The woman noticed the beautiful ruby, enclosed in an antique gold ring setting, as Nigel released his hand from hers.

“Samara Wylde. My father and I were guests of Lord Ellis at his country estate, following a lecture he gave in London a few years ago.” It was Nigel’s turn to be surprised. Sir James Wylde was a renown Egyptian archeologist, who was rumored to have recently begun excavation of a Royal tomb in the Valley of the Queens at Luxor, thought to be that of Queen Nefertiti. Nigel recalled that his father had tried to sponsor one of Sir Wylde’s Egyptian expeditions in the past, but he did not believe that anything had ever come of it.

“May I at least buy you a drink for saving my life Mr. Ellis?” Nigel handed Samara her silver sequined evening purse which he picked up from the floor where it had fallen. “That would be nice, and please call me Nigel.”

****

Nigel noticed that traffic was heavier than usual as he and Samara made their way in his Aston Martin through the streets of Cairo to the Sphinx, an Anglo watering hole for an odd assortment of English expatriates. Writers and actors mingling freely with British aristocracy and diplomats, frequented the popular nightclub. Usually present, was also a few former intelligence officers, both English and German, who had stayed behind after the second world war had ended. These eccentric foreigners had become accustomed to their exotic Egyptian lifestyles. Nigel saw them as romantic bohemians, always eager to indulge in local gossip and share the marvelous scandals of the leading British and Egyptian families, both present and from a bygone era, when intrigue and conspiracies were considered an art form.

The owner of the Sphinx, a colorfully attired Egyptian, wearing a purple turban and a flowing silk robe, draping his enormous girth, seated the couple at a candle lit booth. His name was Ahmed Sulliman, but the regulars called him Harry. “So sorry, so sorry, all of my waiters have fled, fearing for their lives, such cowards! A little rumbling and they run like school girls! I have a mind to fire all of them when they return tomorrow evening after a night of drunken carousing.”

The big man sighed as he presented them with menus in the shape of fans. “I’m getting too old for this nonsense.”

Nigel smiled at Samara over the menu. “And much too rich Harry.” The man’s face lit up like one of the orange paper lanterns hanging from the bar’s ceiling. “Yes, that I am. However, I am not yet ready to retire to my villa in Memphis, waiting out my final days for Charon to ferry me across the River

Styx!”

Nigel laughed. “So you think you’ll be going to Hades then Harry, you a devout Muslim. I always assumed that you would enter the gates of heaven on the wings of the Archangel Gabriel.” The big man giggled, bowing to them before making a hasty retreat, his robe rustling as he made his way to the front of the bar, where a rowdy group of young inebriated Englishmen, had just entered, calling out loudly for a table.

“You get on well with the locals.” Samara smiled at Nigel who was clearly in his element. “I’ve known Harry for years. He really is a devout Muslim. I don’t believe he’s had a drop of liquor his entire life, though he has sold enough of it to make him one of the richest men in Cairo.”

A thin man in white jacket and trousers made his way through the crowded bar to their table. “Hello chap.” Nigel looked up to see his old college roommate, a scotch in hand, grinning down at him. “I had to meet this ravishing creature you brought with you tonight Nigel.” Samara found the man attractive, admiring his dark hair and startling blue eyes. “Where have you been hiding her?” Samara noticed Nigel’s look of annoyance as he made room for the man in the booth.

“Samara, this is Reginald Astor. We shared rooms at Eaton briefly in our freshman year.” Reginald waved down Harry for another scotch. “I swear that man will outlive all of us, he has no vices and the only thing I’ve seen the man drink is tea, rather weak tea at that. Yes, Samara, I’m afraid that my scholarly endeavors were short-lived at Eaton. I was turned out before the end of the term for…” Nigel interrupted his friend, “Let’s not reminisce too much old man. I’m sure Samara is not interested in your extracurricular activities at Eaton.” Harry lumbered up to them with the scotch. “As you like it Sahib, just a single ice cube and a dash of bitters.” Samara was amused that Reginald seemed totally unaware of the Egyptian’s feigned subservience.

“Are you related to the famous Astor family?” Samara stared at the man over her cocktail.

“If you mean the fabulously wealthy American Astors, I’m not. I’m related to the English Astors, who are only slightly more impoverished than their American cousins.”

Nigel appeared noticeably more intoxicated since his friend had arrived. “Reginald is one of those rare individuals, born into great wealth, having no concept of money, whatsoever.” Reginald smiled conspiratorially at Samara, polishing off his scotch. “Our friend Nigel has to work for a living. His father refuses him an allowance. Lord Ellis believes making one’s own living builds character.”

Samara finished her cocktail. “I would think that would be preferable to living off of another’s labor.”

Reginald laughed loudly, slapping Nigel on the back. “She’s beautiful and witty, a rare catch! Don’t worry Samara, to my knowledge no Astor has had to work for a living for over a century.” Harry appeared with another round of drinks, disappearing into the noisy crowd.

“I believe that lovely antiquity is an ancient Egyptian poisoner’s ring, if I’m not mistaken” said Reginald. Samara’s eyes flashed briefly. “How observant of you Reginald, yes it is. A gift from my mother. She found it at one of those out of the way shops in the old district of Cairo.” Reginald leaned across the table and lifted Samara’s hand to inspect the ring, a large fiery red opal surrounded by rubies, in a gold setting with an elegant cobra’s head, crowning it.

“Exquisite, a rare find.” Reginald exclaimed.

“The seller told my mother that it was found in a tomb in

Alexandria.”

Reginald touched the head of the cobra opening the ring. A slight acrid scent emanated from it. He felt her hand tremble and saw the fear in her eyes. She quickly closed the ring and pulled her hand away.

Nigel felt slightly dizzy, his head beginning to throb.

“I suppose you haven’t had an opportunity to use it?” Reginald laughed. “By the way, I know your mother, Akila Busuri, having had the pleasure of purchasing antiquities from her over the years. She has a beautiful oil painting of you in her shop, posing as Cleopatra, which I found most charming.” Samara smiled, aware that Nigel had moved closer to her in the booth, as Reginald prattled on. “A very elegant woman, as well as helpful. Quite knowledgeable of what’s available on the black market.”

To Nigel, it seemed that his friend was deliberately baiting Samara. Samara’s stare was hypnotic, a snake eyeing its prey, immediately before striking and killing it. The tension between the two was palpable. Before Samara was able to reply, the sound of a gunshot, followed by a scream and a crash from somewhere in the bar broke the tension between them.

“What in hell was that?” Reginald stood up unsteadily, a look of horror on his pale face. “Damned if someone hasn’t just shot Harry.”

Chapter 2

They drove in silence through the warren of moonlit Cairo streets, crowded with tourists and locals, shopping and dining in the exotic marketplace, the air heavy with incense and the fragrance of lamb, simmering in cauldrons. Nigel observed the mass of humanity as he maneuvered the Aston Martin around white robed Arabs, leading donkeys and camels, nearly colliding with a motorized rickshaw, transporting an elderly English couple back to their hotel. The rickshaw driver cursed and gave him the evil eye. He accelerated ahead of the rickshaw, leaving the marketplace behind in a blur of colors. The cacophony and strident haggling over colorful trinkets, fine Moroccan carpets and elaborate Egyptian jewelry pieces, receded as they made their way to the far end of the city, up a steep street ending at a towering villa atop a hill overlooking the marketplace.

“It’s called Sekhmet, my mother’s house.” Nigel stared up at the towering villa built into the hillside, a massive stone edifice, adorned with ancient Egyptian reliefs of Horus, Isis and Osiris. “It’s beautiful.” Nigel turned to Samara. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen this place before.”

Samara got out of the car. “I stay here when my parents are at their estate in England.”

Nigel followed her up the stone steps to the villa’s massive cedar of Lebanon doors, carved with scenes depicting ancient Egyptian battles and coronations of pharaohs. The doors opened onto an atrium, in the Moroccan style, with a large interior pond, filled with exotic lotus plants. Nigel noticed brilliantly colored Koi fish emerging from the depths of the pond, their gaping mouths breaking the water’s surface.

“They’re hungry, poor darlings!” Samara reached into a granite basin and flung a handful of pellets into the pond. The Koi churned the water, gulping down the pellets.

“How charming.” Nigel joined her by the pond.

“My mother told me that some of them are over a hundred years old.” Samara said, playfully stroking a glistening gold beauty, which had swum up to her. Nigel stared with interest into the depths of the pond. “Really, I never knew a fish could live that long.” Nigel turned toward Samara, noticing how the moonlight illuminated her hair and the paleness of her skin. “You look radiant.” He could not resist saying as she led him through a pair of bronze doors into the interior living room. Columns of blue turquoise and jade tiles lined the room, illuminated by an enormous Moroccan chandelier. The ceiling was composed of brilliant mosaics in intricate geometric patterns. Ancient incense braziers filled the air with the aromatic scent of cedar and myrrh.

“It’s fantastic.” Nigel sighed, as they sunk onto a couch piled with red velvet pillows, overhung with a silk canopy. “Poor Harry. Everyone loves that man. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm him.” Nigel said.

Samara took Nigel’s hand in hers “Who knows what has been going on in his private life, perhaps he’s involved in some nefarious enterprise.”

Nigel laughed. “You’re not suggesting that Harry is part of a smuggling ring of some sort? I must confess that the thought has crossed my mind.” They sat in silence, enjoying their solitude and the haunting sound of a street beggar playing a reed flute in a distant alleyway.

“Legend has it that this villa was built on top of one of Cleopatra’s country estates, a haven from the intrigues of the royal court in Alexandria. The Queen loved the ancient city of Memphis, with its pyramids and monumental Sphinx.” Samara explained.

“It’s well known that following the battle of Actium, after Octavian defeated Marc Antony, the Queen committed suicide, by embracing a cobra, which inflicted the fatal bite. By that time, she had abandoned all hope of surviving the vengeful Octavian and his legions, advancing on Alexandria to claim Cleopatra as a war trophy.” Nigel spoke in a low voice, as if fearful that Cleopatra’s spirit might materialize before them. “Octavian later allowed Cleopatra and Antony to be buried together in a tomb, whose location has never been discovered.”

They finished their drinks as Mohamed, one of the family servants, suddenly appeared. “Do you wish me to prepare a light repast for you and your guest Mam?” Mohamed was one of several family retainers who had been with the household since Samara was a young girl. “That would be lovely Mohamed. Perhaps some fruit, cheeses and cold lamb, Nigel?” Having missed dinner at the nightclub earlier, due to the shooting, Nigel was famished. “Sounds good to me.” Samara stood up, dismissing the servant. “We’ll dine on the terrace Mohamed. Come with me Nigel, I want to show you something I think will interest you.”

Nigel followed Samara through the beautifully decorated rooms of the villa. English landscape paintings by well-known artists lined the walls in stately procession. Nigel noticed several Oriental themed paintings by the renowned artist, John Singer Sergeant, as they passed the sumptuously appointed dining room with its enormous Louis the 14th chandelier hanging over a dining table that could seat forty guests.

“Your parents have excellent taste.” Nigel enthused.

Samara smiled. “They have been avid collectors for years. A blend of my mother’s exotic Oriental taste and father’s English formality.”

“Somehow, it all works marvelously.” Nigel said, pausing to admire a bronze statue of an angel standing on a marble base in an alcove.

“That’s the Arch Angel Gabriel. My father brought the sculpture from his estate in England after marrying my mother.” Nigel turned to face Samara. “Isn’t he the angel that drove Satan out of heaven?” Samara laughed. “I believe that was Michael but both are revered by many religious groups, including Muslims. Now hurry, I want to show you something special.” She led Nigel through several more lavishly furnished rooms, down a corridor to a massive bronze door, guarded by a pair of marble sphinx. She opened the door and they entered a dimly lit chamber displaying Roman and Greek statues, its floors and walls made of various colored marbles.

“They’re magnificent.” Nigel took in the gleaming statues of ancient gods and goddesses.

“The collection is not as grand as your father’s but some are quite rare. What I wanted to show you though is this particular statue.” Samara led Nigel to a side solarium where the most extraordinary statue he had ever seen was set on a dais. Cleopatra lay slumped on her marble throne, draped in a toga with one breast exposed. Her refined features, steady gaze and slightly parted lips was hypnotic. Nigel gasped as he noticed the asp held in the Queen’s beautifully carved hand, the venomous serpent’s head raised ready to strike her neck.

“Where was it found?” Nigel couldn’t believe that he had not heard of such an incredible find.

“It was discovered in a tomb in the Valley of the Queens by a Frenchman, sometime after Napoleon Bonaparte’s invasion of Egypt. Many of the treasures were looted before the tomb could be secured, following the murder of the French explorer. My great grandfather had the good fortune to learn of the statue’s existence and purchased it on the black market for a small fortune. It’s a closely guarded family secret.”

“Yet you revealed it to me.” Nigel said, glancing at Samara. Before she could respond, another temblor struck, crumbling part of the solarium’s wall behind the statue of Cleopatra, filling the room with a cloud of debris. They looked in astonishment as the dust settled, revealing a hidden chamber, illuminated by moonlight streaming in from the Solarium’s skylight. Looking into the chamber, they were amazed to discover an ancient stone stairway disappearing into the darkness.

“Let’s make sure none of the servants have been harmed before we explore this mystery further.”

Samara led Nigel out of the room of antiquities, closing the door behind her.

3

Lord Ellis was looking forward to tea, having battled for several hours with a scourge of dandelions, which had invaded his rose garden. The gardeners had been banned from the garden, after exterminating his award winning “Betsy” rose bush, following an overdose of pesticide. The rose had been named for his late wife, Beatrice, who had recently passed away, leaving Lord Ellis one of the wealthiest and sought-after bachelors in Devonshire. Lord Ellis was still a handsome and robust man at seventy, with a patrician air and piercing blue eyes, commanding the respect of his inferiors.

Tea was served each day by his butler, Malcolm, as it had been for the past thirty years, when his lordship was in residence.

Lord Ellis entered the conservatory, overlooking the river, which meandered through the magnificent grounds of Devonshire Castle, seating himself in a rattan chair by a grouping of exotic orchids. Malcolm appeared precisely at 4:00 p.m. with a silver tea service, pouring his lordship a cup of Ceylon tea, the finest India had to offer.

“Reginald Astor is arriving from Egypt this evening Malcolm. Please inform cook he’ll be here in time for dinner.”

“As you wish my lord.” Malcolm nodded his head and left the conservatory.

Lord Ellis had been in a state of euphoria for the past week, having learned from Reginald that the Egyptian expedition, which his lordship funded, had recently discovered a tomb, a short distance outside of Alexandria, thought to be Cleopatra’s mausoleum. He had immediately ordered the find secured and Reginald’s return to England.

Nigel’s father was a contemporary of Lord Carnarvon, who funded Howard Carter’s fateful expedition, resulting in the sensational discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb in 1922. If the tomb proved to be that of Cleopatra, it would rival Howard Carter’s discovery of the 18TH dynasty pharaoh's fabulous treasure horde and secure Lord Ellis’s place in the pantheon of Egyptian explorers.

4

Mohamed hurried up to Samara. “None of the servants are harmed mistress and all seems in order. Great is the mercy of

Allah!”

He ushered them to the terrace, where he had laid out a feast of delicacies on the candlelit table.

The street beggar began another mournful tune on his reed flute, as the scents of roses and jasmine from Cairo’s gardens drifted over the terrace.

Nigel stared off into the moonlit desert sands stretching for miles into the distance, envisioning the defeated Queen’s final retreat from a victorious Octavian, advancing upon Alexandria with his triumphant Roman legions, intent on returning to Rome with Cleopatra as his captive, to be paraded through the streets in chains as his greatest war trophy.

Nigel was startled from his reflections by the appearance of two enormous jade green iguanas lumbering out onto the terrace. They made their way over to Nigel, sniffing the air, yellow eyes sizing him up, before retreating to Samara, who stroked them as they rested on either side of her, like sentinels.

“Salome and Solomon have been family pets for years. Don’t worry, they’re harmless herbivores, loving nothing more than a head of lettuce after a swim in the pool.” Samara assured Nigel, who was staring in fascination at the reptiles, having the odd sensation that the creatures were gauging whether he would make an edible meal. “However, if provoked, they can take down a man the size of Mohamed with their powerful tails.”

“Mohamed has always been there for me, from the time that I was a little girl. He comforted me in times of childhood crises and as a young woman, whose heart was often broken, following a relationship, of which my mother did not approve.”

“I can’t imagine any man enamored with you not standing up to your mother and winning her approval.”

“Most were silly infatuations, quickly forgotten.” Samara glanced up at the moon, casting shadows over Cairo’s warren of ancient buildings and labyrinthine streets.

“I wonder what your mother would think of me?” Nigel asked.

Samara studied Nigel thoughtfully. “She would find you a most eligible bachelor. The son of a wealthy English lord and owner of one of the most fabulous collections of ancient antiquities, many of them Egyptian. After the marriage, she would immediately begin a crusade to persuade your father to return all Egyptian relics in his collection to Egypt, where she believes they rightly belong. My mother can be very persuasive.”

“So I’ve heard. What of her private collection? Reginald believes that your mother has obtained most of her antiquities on the black market illegally. Am I missing something?” Nigel grinned.

“Upon her death, my mother’s collection is bequeathed to the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities. She thinks of herself as a guardian angel of these priceless treasures until that time.”

“Is the lovely Cleopatra statue included in your mother’s generous bequest?”

Samara smiled coyly at Nigel. “That masterpiece is gifted to me with the proviso that it is to remain in the family in perpetuity.”

Nigel stared at the moonlight playing across Samara’s beautiful features with the sudden realization that he had fallen hopelessly in love with her.

5

Rome 1928

Akila awoke from her drugged state, overwhelmed by the heavy scent of incense and the cloying odor of decayed bodies. The young woman screamed, terrified by the sight of flickering candles, eerily casting shadows over the grinning skulls of the decomposed corpses lining the chamber’s walls. Her abductors had taken her to Rome’s oldest catacomb, Domitilla, where she was kept in a remote tomb, watched over by security guards. After months of brutal captivity, Akila was rescued by her mother, Amara Busuri, the fierce leader of an ancient Egyptian cult, fanatically dedicated to the goddess Isis, whom the cult had worshiped ages before Cleopatra ascended the Ptolemaic throne, becoming the goddess incarnate.

Following a bloody shoot out, mother and daughter fled the catacombs, leaving behind the slaughtered guards, and several mortally wounded members of the cult.

Making their way through the maze of Rome’s congested streets in Amara’s 1923 Duisenberg, Akila noticed the look of concern on her mother’s face. “What is it mother?”

Amara glanced over and smiled at her daughter, taking her hand in hers. “We’ll talk at the hotel.”

Amara pulled into the driveway of the luxurious Campo Di Fiori Hotel, leaving the Duisenberg with the valet. The women hurried inside the hotel as a black Mercedes Benz pulled up behind the Duisenberg and followed the valet as he drove off to the hotel’s parking lot.

Seated in gold velvet chairs in the lobby, with a view of the hotel’s lush gardens, Amara ordered martinis from the handsome Italian waiter, ogling her beautiful daughter, who had recently turned twenty-one. Akila hardly noticed the young man, her lovely hazel eyes staring with concern at her mother.

When the waiter left to get their drinks, Akila burst out “What is going on mother!”

“Lower your voice and don’t attract attention, Akila.” Amara looked anxiously around the hotel lobby, as though expecting assassins to appear at any moment. “Our enemies have learned of a secret, kept by the sisterhood for a millennium. We have been betrayed by one of our own. As you will succeed me as high priestess when my spirit joins the goddess in the afterworld, there are certain things you must know, to prepare you for the challenges which you will face.”

Amara took an ancient scroll of papyrus from her satchel, handing it to her daughter. “Safeguard this with your life. It’s one of a collection of ancient scrolls in our cult’s possession, handed down through the ages, which explain many of Isis’ secrets. Some are believed to be inscribed by Cleopatra herself. Many have yet to be translated. However, the scroll I entrust to you today, reveals a secret so powerful, that our enemies will stop at nothing to obtain it, including murder.”

Akila looked fearfully into her mother’s eyes. “Who are these enemies, mother and what do they want of us?”

“Isis’ secrets will be revealed to you in due time Akila. However, there is one you must know of above all others. The evil men who held you captive are the hired thugs of an organization intent on robbing Egypt of her treasures. For years they have ruthlessly plundered the tombs of our ancient Pharaohs, keeping the precious antiquities for themselves or selling them on the black market. They are a rich and powerful fraternity, many of whose members belong to a private club called Osiris. They have learned of the existence of Cleopatra’s scrolls from a traitor within our sisterhood, whose identity is not yet known. The ransom note sent to me demanded the scrolls in exchange for your life. I could not bear to lose you my darling, but I would never have given into their demands by handing over the scrolls to spare you. My only choice was to rescue

you myself. However, as a result of my actions, our enemies will retaliate, not giving up until they’ve assassinated me and obtained what they desire above all else, the secrets of immortality.”

Akila looked at her mother in horror. “I’ll never let any harm come to you. We’ll leave Italy and go into hiding. Uncle Ernest will let us stay at his chalet in the Swiss Alps. It’s so remote, they’ll never find us there!”

“This is no game Akila. There is not much time and I need to know that Isis can count on you one day to be its high priestess when I’m gone.”

Akila struggled with her emotions for a moment longer, wanting desperately to save them both from the perils she knew awaited each of them, though realizing she was powerless to do so. “I will do whatever it takes to preserve the cult of your beloved Isis mother, dedicating my life to the sisterhood as high priestess, when called to do so.”

The women embraced. “I’ve opened a bank account for you at Barkley’s in London which you have immediate access to. It’s a considerable sum. My estate is handled by Barkley’s and you are my sole heir, other than a generous bequest that I’ve left for Isis.”

“You will survive this ordeal and triumph over your enemies mother.”

Amara smiled lovingly at her daughter. “I have to leave you now Akila. Once I’m gone, return to England and contact Lilith, my most trusted advisor in the sisterhood. She will guide you on the path which you have been predestined to take.”

Akila watched tearfully as Amara left the hotel lobby, silently bidding her farewell, terrified by the thought that this might be the last time she would see her mother alive. As Akila approached the desk clerk to have him call her a cab to take her to the airport, a tremendous explosion rocked the hotel.

Chapter 6

London December 1922

Howard Carter stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror in his suite at the Saint James Hotel. He appeared a bit haggard, after the long flight from Cairo. Dressed in a gray tuxedo, he looked distinguished, the image of a renown explorer, home for a brief visit at the request of his benefactor, Lord Carnarvon, before returning to Egypt. That evening, he had been invited to attend a formal dinner as the Lord’s honored guest at Highclere Castle. The press and public had no knowledge of this unexpected visit. Soon after returning from Cairo, having viewed the tomb, Lord Carnarvon had suddenly cabled Carter that he had learned of another remarkable find, which he would reveal to him upon his arrival at Highclere Castle.

Carter and his team had just made one of the world’s greatest discoveries, Tutankhamun’s tomb. Although Carter and Lord Carnarvon had unofficially entered the tomb and beheld the fabulous treasures which lie within, before it was resealed, the golden artifacts and the boy king’s magnificent sarcophagus had yet to be revealed to the general public.

Soon the world would be swept up in King Tut mania, the discovery captivating the imagination of the average person, as well as the rich and famous.

****

Upon arriving at Highclere, Howard Carter turned his 1922 Dodge Brothers Roadster onto the drive leading up to the magnificent estate of Lord Carnarvon. Suddenly, the grand palace loomed up before him, intimidating in its spectacular grandeur. The setting sun illuminated Highclere’s stone facade with a dazzling golden aurora.

He followed the butler into the reception hall where he was received by Lord Carnarvon and his wife, Lady Almina.

“My dear Howard, welcome back to Highclere. At long last, our search for Tutankhamun’s tomb has been realized, and now it is time to celebrate, the discovery of the century!”

Lord Carnarvon took Carter by the arm, escorting him to the formal dining room where forty prominent guests were seated, waiting for the man of the hour.

“Once we’ve dined, we’ll speak privately in my study regarding what course to take before the tomb is revealed to the press and public. Sir Jeffery has recently obtained some Egyptian scrolls, dating to the Eighteenth Dynasty, towards the end of Akhenaten’s reign. The hieroglyphs that he has translated so far, describes events shortly before and after the pharaoh’s death, apparently written by Queen Nefertiti, or one of her scribes. There’s reference to a mystical object buried with Tutankhamun of profound importance, which Sir Jeffery is eager to share with us after dinner. As you know, Sir Jeffery is an expert at deciphering ancient hieroglyphs. Of course, we’ll hold a meeting at the Osiris club before returning to Egypt to attend the official opening of the tomb. We can’t hold off the Egyptian authorities much longer, so we’ll have to move quickly.”

They entered the ornately decorated dining room to a round of applause by the celebrated guests gathered to pay homage to the soon to be world famous Egyptologist and his patron, Lord Carnarvon.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that I propose this toast to my friend and partner. A visionary explorer, who, despite the odds against him, never lost faith in his belief that one day his quest would end in the discovery of one of the world’s greatest secrets, buried beneath the eternal sands in the Valley of the Kings, the tomb of Tutankhamun.” Lord Carnarvon toasted his colleague and friend, seated at the opposite end of the dining table. The guests raised their champagne glasses to Howard Carter, enthralled with the Egyptologist smiling back at them.

Following an elaborate banquet of the finest cuisine Highclere Castle had to offer, Howard Carter and his host mingled with the elegantly attired guests, many the elite of the British aristocracy. A young dark-haired woman wearing a green organdy Coco Chanel dress, approached Lord Carnarvon. “How fascinating George, all that treasure hidden in a tomb buried in the Valley of the Kings, undisturbed over eons of time until your Mr. Carter stumbles upon it.”

Lord Carnarvon lightly kissed the woman’s extended hand.

“Howard let me introduce you to Lady Lilith, the late Lord

Granville’s wife.”

Howard was captivated by the woman’s beauty, her lovely green eyes lit up under the light of the drawing room’s chandelier.

“In a way, I suppose I did stumble upon the find after years of fruitless searching. Fate has a way of playing with men, incomprehensible to mere mortals Lady Lilith. I believe we succeeded due to sheer persistence and our unwillingness to give up searching. I admit, however, I was beginning to have my doubts that we would succeed.”

“let’s not be so modest Howard. Your instincts were spot on, narrowing your search to the Valley of the Kings, leading you to the exact location of the tomb. Incredible, really, given the odds against finding an intact royal tomb in that desert wasteland.”

“Well, it was a good thing I decided to have my boys clear those huts which concealed the steps leading to the tomb. Had we not, the tomb’s discovery may never have been made, certainly not by my team.” Carter replied, not mentioning that Lord Carnarvon had summoned him to Highclere shortly before the tomb’s discovery to inform him that there would be no further funding of the archeological dig beyond that season.

Lady Lilith was eager to hear more regarding the tomb’s discovery. “I heard Mr. Carter, that you asked Lord Carnarvon to return to Egypt after discovering the tomb and upon his arrival, a breach was made in its doorway. You were the first to gaze upon the tomb’s treasures. How thrilling that must have been for you.”

Lord Carnarvon interrupted, anxious to meet with Sir Jeffery. “Howard cabled regarding his discovery of what he believed was the tomb of Tutankhamun with seals intact, asking me to return to Egypt, which I hastened to do. My daughter,

Evelyn, accompanied me.”

Lady Lilith was not deterred. “What did you see when you gazed into the tomb for the first time Mr. Carter?”

Carter was enjoying the woman’s attention. “As I gazed for the first time through the breach, I beheld fabulous gold artifacts gleaming within the tomb. Lord Carnarvon asked me if I could discern anything. I replied, ‘Yes, wonderful things!’

“Well my dear, I really must let Mr. Carter mingle with the other guests.”

Carter bowed his head to lady Lilith as Lord Carnarvon took his arm and steered him through the distinguished gathering in the drawing room to his study. “Lovely woman but how she prattles on.”

They entered the darkened study, illuminated by a Tiffany lamp. Heavy brocade drapes were half drawn and Carter noticed the rain pelting against the windowpanes. Sir Lionel Jeffery was seated in a green silk wing chair, smoking a pipe while gazing out at the storm. His handsome Welch features and ruddy complexion were illuminated by the golden light of the burning cedar logs in the study’s ancient fireplace.

“So good of you to come Sir Jeffrey. We’re anxious to hear what you’ve learned from the Nefertiti papyrus which you’ve recently obtained.”

Lord Carnarvon poured scotch from a crystal decanter standing on an oriental cabinet and handed Carter and Sir Jeffrey each a glass.

Sir Jeffrey took a sip of his drink before beginning his story.

“I obtained the scrolls from an Egyptian antiquities dealer in Cairo. He had them in a basket in a dusty corner of his shop with other papyrus. I doubt the dealer had any idea of the cache’s value, because I bought the entire basket for a hundred pounds. Incredible, really, I didn’t expect any of the papyrus writings to contain anything of great significance, because, as you know, most of these ancient scrolls relate to the more mundane aspects of Egyptian daily life.” A rumble of thunder, followed by a blinding flash of lightning, caused Sir Jeffery to pause, taking another sip of his scotch before continuing with his narrative.

“It took me some time to go through the bloody basket and I was beginning to think I had squandered the pounds I had spent for the cache, when I was rendered speechless by what lay at the bottom of the pile of papyrus.” Sir Jeffrey paused for dramatic effect, knowing that Carter and Lord Carnarvon were riveted by his account.

Sir Jeffrey relit his pipe. “The scroll is quite lengthy and I’ve only translated part of it. However, I’ve had the scroll authenticated by my colleagues at the British Museum. It dates to the 18th dynasty, during the reign of Akhenaten. The writings reflect Nefertiti’s fear for her safety and for that of the young prince, Tutankhamun, after the death of Akhenaten and the turmoil that followed. As you know gentlemen, Akhenaten did away with the old gods and priesthood of Amun moving the Egyptian capital from Thebes to Amarna and forcing the Egyptians to worship his sun god, Aten.

These radical actions were not popular with the common people. After Akhenaten’s death, the powerful priest Aye, began to influence the young pharaoh, although, most likely, Nefertiti remained Queen regent with ostensible pharaonic powers. Wielding his influence, Aye eventually turned Tutankhamun away from worshiping Aten. The old gods and priesthood were restored, thus beginning the downfall of Nefertiti and perhaps culminating in the murder of Tutankhamun.”

“What about this mystical object Lord Carnarvon just informed me exists?” Carter asked impatiently, eager to learn what might have been placed in the young King’s tomb by his reputed mother, Nefertiti.

Sir Jeffery lowered his voice. “This is what is so intriguing. Nefertiti describes a turquoise blue artifact in the form of a scarab, fitting in her hand and easily placed amongst the King’s possessions at the time of his entombment. The Queen ascribes supernatural or metaphysical powers to the artifact, to be used in conjunction with an ancient Book of the Dead. Based on my interpretation of the hieroglyphics so far, it appears that through this ritual, involving the sacred talisman and incantations contained in the mystical book, Tutankhamun would achieve immortality, returning one day as a living god to rule Egypt once again.”

“That is an amazing discovery Sir Jeffery, especially since we are about to officially open King Tutankhamun’s tomb. Did anyone at the British Museum translate any of the hieroglyphics contained in the papyrus scroll?” Lord Carnarvon leaned closer to Sir Jeffrey, anxious to hear his response.

“No, It was simply dated. I did not inform anyone about the contents.”

Lord Carnarvon smiled, relieved to know that the British Museum had no idea of the enormity of Sir Jeffrey’s discovery. “Fine. I assume you will not go public with this until you have reviewed the papyrus in its entirety.”

“Of course not Lord Carnarvon, especially in light of Mr. Carter’s discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb. I would never overshadow in any way such a magnificent find.”

“Very well Sir Jeffery, we’ll discuss this further at our meeting at the Osiris club tomorrow. Now, I’ve kept Howard from my guests long enough. I would like to examine the papyrus with Mr. Carter. Can that be arranged before my return to Egypt?”

“Certainly, I’ll bring it with me to the Osiris Club tomorrow.” Sir Jeffery rose from the wing chair tapping out his pipe. “Splendid, now shall we return to the party gentlemen?” Lord Carnarvon suggested.

Unbeknownst to them, Lilith had followed Lord Carnarvon and Howard Carter, eaves dropping at the study’s door. As the men stood to leave, she silently closed the door and made her way down the hall, rejoining the other guests in the drawing room, breathless in the knowledge she had learned.

Lord Carnarvon and Lady Almina waved farewell to Howard Carter as he got into his motorcar, having declined their offer to stay the night, due to the inclement weather. The evening had been a resounding success, however, he was not comfortable being the center of attention, especially in such exalted company. As he turned onto the road heading to London, the rain had lightened with a dense fog beginning to blanket the countryside. He looked forward to a hot bath and a gin and tonic when he arrived back at the hotel.

Suddenly, a woman appeared in the road ahead of him, dressed in a flowing Egyptian gown. As he approached the figure he gasped, recognizing the famous blue headdress worn by Queen Nefertiti. As the apparition’s scowling face loomed up before him, it transformed into a nest of writhing vipers. With a scream, Carter turned the steering wheel sharply to the right going off of the roadway.

As Carter pulled up to the Saint James Hotel later that night, the valet rushed to open the roadster’s door. “Is the bar still open?” He asked, ashen faced and still shaken from the bizarre encounter with the apparition on the road to London.

“Yes Sir.” The valet accepted the generous tip handed him.

“Splendid, I’d like my car brought around in the morning.”

“Of course Mr. Carter, have a good evening sir.” The valet, like all the staff at the Saint James, had heard of Howard Carter’s discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb and that its contents would soon be revealed to the public. The young man stared in awe after Carter as he entered the hotel, on his way to the bar.

****

Low lighting illuminated the mahogany paneled bar, a landmark habituated by London’s elite. After Carter seated himself, a bartender came up and took his order. As he waited for his cocktail, he glanced across the bar, noticing a darkhaired woman wearing a red dress staring at him. He watched in discomfort as she applied red lipstick, not taking her black eyes off of him. The bartender placed the gin and tonic in front of Carter, lingering to engage the now famous Egyptologist in conversation. “Will you be bringing the treasures home to

England Sir?”

“It’s not yet been determined where any of the antiquities found in the tomb will be sent. The British Museum is eager to obtain some of the objects. However, I expect most of the items will remain in Egypt, at the Museum of Cairo.”

“Pity sir, since an Englishman discovered the tomb, you’d think it would be proper for the British Museum to have the treasures, like Lord Elgin’s marbles.”

Carter took a sip of his gin and tonic. “That was a different time and place my good man. Egypt has just recently achieved its independence from England and there is keen interest on the part of the Egyptian authorities to prevent Egypt’s antiquities from leaving the country. When Lord Elgin acquired the now famous marble statues from the Parthenon, he was England’s ambassador to the Ottoman Empire which, at the time, occupied Greece. Elgin claimed to have received a decree from the Ottoman ruler, Sultan Salim, permitting him to take the sculptures and other antiquities he admired, as gifts. Back in England Lord Byron and others accused Lord Elgin of vandalism as well as looting. Lord Byron was inspired to write, Curse of Minerva a satire to persuade the populace to demand that the antiquities be returned to Athens, where he believed they rightfully belonged. Fortunately for England, Lord Byron’s campaign failed and the Elgin marbles remain to this day at the British Museum.”

The bartender placed another gin and tonic before Carter, shaking his head with disapproval. “That’s on the house sir. It’s a shame we won’t be seeing any of those Tutankhamun treasures in England anytime soon.”

Carter looked over at the woman in the red dress, glaring at him. “Do you know that woman seated at the end of the bar?” Carter asked the bartender in a low voice. The young man glanced over at the woman. “No, I don’t sir, although, I saw her with Lord Granville’s wife earlier.”

As she left the bar, the woman in the red dress leaned down and whispered in Carter’s ear: “Take care Mr. Carter. A terrible fate awaits those who desecrate the tomb of pharaoh Tutankhamun." Without another word the woman left, leaving Carter staring after her in shock.

Chapter 7

The Osiris club was one of Briton’s most prestigious private societies, whose members consisted of world renown Egyptologists, explorers and wealthy collectors of rare antiquities. It had been established in 1799, following Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt and discovery of the Rosetta Stone, the key to unlocking ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. In the aftermath of destruction of Napoleon’s fleet during the Battle of the Nile by the Britishin1798,the French were ultimately routed from Egypt with Napoleon’s defeat and ignominious return to France.

As Howard Carter sat waiting for Lord Carnarvon and Sir Jeffrey to join him in the club’s lounge, a waiter entered with a service cart containing a steaming pot of tea with fine porcelain teacups and a plate of scones.

Moments later, Sir Jeffrey burst into the lounge, calling out to his friend excitedly, breaking the dirge-like silence. Carter winced, still recovering from a migraine headache, brought on by his encounter with the mysterious woman at the Saint James bar the previous evening. After that unsettling incident, he had returned to his hotel suite, falling into a troubled sleep, soon waking from a nightmare, wherein he was being attacked by jackals after having breached the entrance to Tutankhamun’s tomb.

Sir Jeffrey seated himself across from Carter, removing the Nefertiti scroll from his satchel. “I stayed up all night deciphering more of the scroll. It’s absolutely astounding. Not only is the document rich in historical revelations surrounding the life of one of Egypt’s most powerful Queens but it also sheds new light on the doomed boy King’s final days!”

Carter poured Sir Jeffrey a cup of tea. “That is wonderful news. Lord Carnarvon will be delighted to learn that you’ve transcribed more of the scroll.”

Lord Carnarvon suddenly entered the lounge, slightly out of breath, taking a seat across from Sir Jeffery. “Sorry I’m late gentlemen. Parliament is in session and traffic was jammed. Which reminds me Howard, Lord Carlyle has asked that you speak before Parliament next month, following the official opening of the tomb. I’ve accepted on your behalf. I hope you don’t mind?” Lord Carnarvon glanced over at Carter, who appeared taken aback by the Lord’s pronouncement.

“But there is so much work to be done in Egypt Lord Carnarvon, what with cataloging all the items found in the tomb and the exasperating ordeal of dealing with the Egyptian officials. I won’t have time to return again to England before the cataloging is completed. We’ve only just begun work on the antechamber.”

“Nonsense, Howard. If you expect the government to support us in having many of the antiquities sent to the British Museum, as is expected by the British public, Parliament must have its dog and pony show. They are eager to learn of the discovery of the century by one of England’s most famous Egyptologists. Not to do so could prove ruinous.” Lord Carnarvon flushed a deep red, annoyed that his protege was not receptive to Lord Carlyle’s request.

“If you believe my speaking before parliament is as important as you make out, I will gladly comply with your wishes in this matter Lord Carnarvon.” Carter resigned himself to having to waste his time making obligatory appearances before the House of Lords and House of Commons and perhaps a private audience with the King as well. He bitterly resented being taken from his work, painstakingly cataloging the tomb’s antiquities, to be an accomplice to what he suspected, was his sponsor's artifice in taking possession of the treasures on behalf of the British Museum.

“Very well. You won’t regret it Howard. Now, Sir Jeffery, did you bring the Nefertiti scroll?” Lord Carnarvon took a sip of tea, looking at Sir Jeffery expectantly.

“Yes, as I was telling Howard before you arrived, I’ve learned more about Queen Nefertiti’s final days and the fate of Tutankhamun, although I do have a considerable amount of hieroglyphics yet to translate. I have given serious thought to what we discussed last night, about not making public the scroll’s existence until sometime after the tomb’s treasures are revealed. I’m reconsidering that course of action. The two finds are so inextricably interwoven that I believe the public and scholars have a right to share in the knowledge imparted by the scroll, to have a better understanding of the tomb’s contents. Each find compliments the other.”

Lord Carnarvon frowned. “I don't agree Sir Jeffrey. Firstly, you must complete translation of the scroll before any public announcement. Also, there are forces at work here that you may not be fully aware of. A militant group, styling themselves as followers of Isis, are actively working to undermine British efforts to obtain Egyptian antiquities. They fear that England will abscond with the tomb’s treasures and will do anything in their power to prevent them from falling into the hands of the British Museum or that of private collectors. This group will stop at nothing to achieve their objectives, including, I believe, murder. Our British archeological teams have had to employ more guards to protect their digs from interference by what can only be described as a cult.”

“I had no idea Lord Carnarvon of the existence of any such group. This news is truly distressing indeed.”

“Does that mean Sir Jeffrey that we have your cooperation in not divulging the existence of the scroll at this time?”

“Absolutely, I’ll complete translation of the scroll and wait until you and Howard determine when to disclose its discovery.”

“To that end sir, let me suggest completing the scroll’s translation at Highclere Castle. I assure you that you will not be disturbed in your endeavor and will be afforded every amenity Highclere has to offer. The grounds are lovely this time of year. I find a solitary walk through the gardens on a misty morning to be quite inspirational.”

“I’m pleased to accept your invitation Lord Carnarvon. A few weeks in the country, away from the distractions of London would be most appreciated.”

“Splendid, then it shall be arranged. I look forward to your arrival Sir Jeffrey. We’ll make no announcement regarding the scroll to our members today. It will be our secret for now. If we are to safeguard ourselves from this radical group, we will need to undertake a plan of action to protect our rightful interests in the field of Egyptology and exploration according to concessions granted us under British rule. We need to be assured of complete and unfettered access to Egyptian antiquities discovered by British expeditions.”

“Well gentlemen, it is decided. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your meeting. I’ll be packed and ready to avail myself of your hospitality by this Friday evening. Until then, I entrust the Nefertiti scroll to you Lord Carnarvon for safekeeping.” Sir Jeffery handed the satchel containing the scroll to his Lordship.

“I’ll place it in my safe at Highclere Castle. Rest assured Sir Jeffrey, the Nefertiti scroll is in good hands. Lady Almina and I will be delighted to have you as our guest.”

After Sir Jeffrey left the club, Carter confided in Lord Carnarvon about his encounter with the woman in the red dress at the Saint James Hotel and the fact that she had been seen with Lady Lilith earlier in the day. “I must say, she was quite hostile towards me. I took it more as a threat than a warning.”

Lord Carnarvon frowned. “As I mentioned earlier, this Isis cult is becoming more aggressive in their actions, hoping to intimidate us from continuing exploration of ancient Egyptian burial sites, especially in the Valley of the Kings. Their greatest fears have been realized with our discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb, which they believe we intend to loot for our own purposes. The woman who accosted you may very well be one of their agents. We must remain vigilant in our efforts to thwart this cult at all costs. Leave it to me Carter. I’ll ask Lady Lilith whether she was with this woman at the Saint James Hotel and, if so, the purpose of their meeting. At times I have my doubts regarding Lady Lilith’s motives. Some believe that Lord Granville’s death was not accidental and that he may have been poisoned, although the inquest found the cause of death to be a heart attack. I’ll advise Lord Ellis of your encounter with this woman. He has been heading our efforts to increase security at various digs and has an extensive dossier on Isis. He’ll know the best course of action to take if these threats should escalate further. Now come along Carter, we’re late for the meeting.”

****

Sir Jeffrey nodded off translating the Nefertiti scroll by the warmth of a roaring fireplace in Lord Carnarvon’s study. The Lord and Lady Almina had left earlier for London to see Verdi’s opera Aida, the tragic story of an enslaved Nubian princess caught up in a forbidden love affair, set in ancient Egypt. This was London society’s social event of the year, with an elaborate banquet to follow the performance. Sir Jeffrey did not expect the Carnarvons to return until late that night. A storm was threatening and if the weather prevented them from returning to Highclere Castle they were prepared to spend the night at their London townhouse.

Thunder rumbled in the distance jarring Sir Jeffrey awake. Rain began spattering against the study’s windows as he resumed reading Nefertiti’s scroll.

18th Dynasty 1335 B.C. Amarna Egypt

The Queen sat regally composed on her throne, several attendants fanning her with enormous peacock fans as she waited for her consort, Akhenaten, to make his appearance before the Royal court. Nefertiti knew that her husband’s health was failing, consuming only small portions of figs and dates with an occasional serving of beer, his condition worsening daily. Speculation amongst the court was that the Pharaohs’ death was imminent. Nefertiti tried vainly to hide her husband’s malady from the courtiers and her enemies, however, it became more difficult to do so with each passing shadow of the sundial, standing in the Queen’s lush gardens.

The palace’s glorious interiors, decorated with gold statuary and sumptuous furnishings, gleamed in the fading sunlight as Aye, Akhenaten’s Vizier, approached the Queen, whispering in her ear. “His majesty is too unwell to attend court this evening.”

Nefertiti’s beautiful eyes clouded with concern. “I’ll preside over the court in place of my husband Lord Aye. It is my wish that you visit me afterward at my Northern Palace. Please let his Majesty know that I will attend him after I have performed his duties.”