The Hidden Oasis Read online

  THE HIDDEN OASIS

  PAUL SUSSMAN

  BANTAM BOOKS

  LONDON • TORONTO • SYDNEY • AUCKLAND • JOHANNESBURG

  Contents

  Cover

  Title

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Maps

  2153 BC – Egypt, The Western Desert

  November 1986 – Kukesi Airstrip, North-Eastern Albania

  Washington. The Pentagon Building. The Same Evening

  Four Months Later, Paris

  The Western Desert, Between the Gilf Kebir and Dakhla Oasis – The Present

  California, Yosemite National Park

  Cairo – The Marriott Hotel

  Cairo

  Cairo

  Dakhla

  Cairo

  Dakhla

  Cairo – The American University

  Dakhla

  Cairo

  Dakhla

  Between Dakhla and Cairo

  Dakhla

  Cairo – Manshiet Nasser

  Dakhla Oasis

  Egypt – Between Cairo and Dakhla

  Dakhla

  Dakhla Oasis

  Cairo

  Cairo – The American Embassy

  Dakhla

  Cairo

  Cairo – The Coptic Quarter

  Cairo – The American University

  Dakhla

  Cairo

  The Cairo Museum

  Cairo – Zamalek

  Cairo – Manshiet Nasser

  Cairo – Butneya

  Cairo – Manshiet Nasser

  Dakhla

  Cairo

  Cairo

  The Road to Alexandria

  Cairo

  Between Cairo and Alexandria

  Dakhla Oasis

  Abydos

  Cairo

  Dakhla

  Cairo

  Dakhla

  Cairo

  Over the Western Desert

  Cairo

  Massawi Military Airstrip, Kharga Oasis

  The Western Desert

  The Gilf Kebir

  Cairo

  Inside the Oasis

  The Real Zerzura – Author’s Note

  Glossary

  Also by Paul Sussman

  This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

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  THE HIDDEN OASIS

  A BANTAM BOOK: 9780553818734

  First publication in Great Britain

  Bantam edition published 2009

  Copyright © Paul Sussman 2009

  Maps and Gateway illustration © Neil Gower

  Obelisk illustration © Alicky Sussman

  Paul Sussman has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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  About the Author

  Paul Sussman read History at Cambridge, where he also won a Boxing Blue. From an early age, his abiding passion has been archaeology. He has worked as a field archaeologist, in particular in Egypt where he was part of the first team to excavate new ground in the Valley of the Kings since Tutankhamun’s tomb was found in 1922. His first two novels, The Lost Army of Cambyses and The Last Secret of the Temple, are international bestsellers, while his journalism has appeared across the media, notably in the Independent, Big Issue, Evening Standard and on CNN.com. He lives in London with his wife and two sons.

  Acclaim for The Last Secret of the Temple and The Lost Army of Cambyses:

  ‘The intelligent reader’s answer to The Da Vinci Code: a big, fat satisfying archaeological puzzle’

  Independent

  ‘Not just a tightly-plotted, richly-observed, thought-provoking thriller, but one with a soul … The compelling mix of tough, page-turning suspense, archaeology, history and characters caught up in the brutal politics of the Middle East, make this a timely and authentic novel … comfortably blends historical mystery with unflinching contemporary suspense’

  RAYMOND KHOURY, author of The Last Templar

  ‘A brilliant detective novel, hidden within a medieval saga, tucked inside an archaeological mystery, surrounded by a modern-day Middle East terrorist thriller … a multi-layered quest where all the characters are real and alive, and we should expect the completely unexpected’

  KATHERINE NEVILLE, author of The Eight

  www.rbooks.co.uk

  ‘Shines a light into a bloody part of the world, where it is hard to tell enemy from friend, and where ancient debts of pain and murder echo to the present. Here is a thriller on a par with the best … it should be required reading’

  JAMES ROLLINS, author of The Judas Strain

  ‘A gripping mystery, intricately plotted and eloquently told … Sussman’s novel is not just thrilling, it makes the tension and promise of the Middle East heartbreakingly alive’

  WILLIAM DIETRICH, author of Napoleon’s Pyramids

  ‘Ambitious, large-scale adventure … Sussman’s fastidious research into the novel’s setting grants everything a plausibility … his millennia spanning plot functions as a colourful backdrop’

  Good Book Guide

  ‘Another sure-fire winner from a gifted storyteller’

  STEVE BERRY, author of The Templar Legacy

  ‘A rollicking, feel-good adventure set among the murky and convulsive politics of the present-day Middle East’

  Jewish Chronicle

  ‘An exciting page-turner … unusual and intriguing’

  Western Daily Press

  ‘A plot as complex as a hall of mirrors, and as gripping as a death threat’

  Kirkus Reviews

  ‘A tremendous adventure … a great novel masterfully written’

  VALERIO MASSIMO MANFREDI

  ‘At last, a thriller that gets away from the hackneyed old ‘curse of Tut’ stuff; and since Sussman has actually excavated i
n Egypt himself, we can trust his background detail … the fast-paced plot is one among many good things in this very assured first novel’

  Scotland On Sunday

  ‘Spine-chilling, fast-paced … it has all the ingredients of a James Bond adventure … and it keeps you guessing right up until the final chapter’

  Sunday Business Post

  ‘Adrenaline-packed … combines all the elements of a truly great adventure story – a 2,000 year-old historical mystery, buried treasure, a race against time … superbly evocative, with a huge epic sweep’

  Crime Time

  ‘An enjoyable adventure story, replete with archaeological lore’

  Spectator

  ‘A tough, sometimes brutal, but always engrossing thriller. Sussman knows his Egypt, past and present, and he has the gift for creating engaging heroes of both sexes and really, really vile villains’

  DR BARBARA MERTZ, archaeologist

  ‘A textured, well-researched and expertly paced debut … truly inventive’

  Publishers Weekly

  ‘The twists in this detective story span 3,000 years and the credible surprises show the writer is a loss to the Secret Intelligence Service. Frederick Forsyth has a worthy contemporary’

  The Week

  ‘A cinematic, rip-roaring adventure mystery, brimming with details of Egyptian archaeology and history’

  Booklist

  ‘Satisfyingly full of ruthless characters, difficult situations and impossible odds’

  WBQ

  ‘Excellent twists … this is Harrison Ford country … Sussman’s knowledge of Egypt – past and present – is really impressive’

  Shots

  Dedication

  I am blessed to have found the most perfect oasis on earth, a place of shelter and warmth and joy unbounded. It is called my family: Alicky, Layla, Ezra and Jude.

  This book is for them, with love, always.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  There are an embarrassingly large number of people without whose advice, help and support this book could never have been written. First and foremost my beloved wife Alicky, who throughout has been there for me with wise counsel and calming words, and who has put up with more than any wife should reasonably have to put up with these last couple of years. I owe her a bigger debt of gratitude than I can ever repay.

  The same goes for my wonderful agent Laura Susijn, whose unstinting support has kept me sane and on track, and my editor Simon Taylor, a man of infinite patience and encouragement.

  Professor Stephen Quirke of the Petrie Museum provided invaluable advice on ancient Egyptian language, mythology and religion, and I can only apologize for the endless stream of oddball questions with which I have pestered him, and the substantial liberties I have taken with his replies. The British Museum’s Department of Ancient Egypt and the Sudan likewise helped plug the numerous gaps in my knowledge of Egyptian history and hieroglyphs. A particular thank you to Drs Julie Anderson, John Taylor, Renee Friedman, Richard Parkinson, Neal Spencer and Derek Welsby. Also to Drs Nicole Douek, Clair Ossian, Nicholas Reeves and Robert Morkot for advice on, respectively, ancient Egyptian oases, botany, hieroglyphs and obelisks.

  Dr Jon Taylor, Curator of Cuneiform Collections at the British Museum, and Dr Frances Reynolds of Oxford University’s Faculty of Oriental Studies were kind enough to give me a steer on aspects of ancient Sumerian language; my good friends Dr Rasha Abdullah and Mohsen Kemal did the same for contemporary Egyptian Arabic.

  Until recently I knew nothing whatsoever about rock climbing or flying aeroplanes and microlights. Thanks to the following I am now marginally less ignorant: Ken Yager of the Yosemite Climbing Association, Chris McNamara of SuperTopo, Paul Beaver, Captains Iain Gibson and Alex Keith, Lucy Kimbell of the Northamptonshire School of Flying and Roger Patrick of P & M Aviation. I was equally in the dark about the world of nuclear smuggling and uranium enrichment. The following gave generously of their time and expertise to help enlighten me: Professor Matthew Bunn of Harvard University’s John F. Kennedy School of Government, Gregory S. Jones of RAND Corporation, Brent M. Eastman of the US State Department’s Nuclear Smuggling Outreach Initiative, Ben Timberlake and Charlie Smith.

  A huge thank you to John Berry for welcoming me at the US Embassy in Cairo, Neil Gower for his wonderful maps, Lieutenant-Colonel Brian Maka at the Pentagon, Nashwa at London’s Egyptian Cultural Bureau, Stephen Bagnold, Suzie Flowers, Dr Saul Kelly, Ken Walton, Peter Wirth and staff at the British Library.

  Perhaps the greatest pleasure of writing this book has been the opportunity it has given me to get to know two very special groups of people.

  Thanks to Suzy Greiss, Magda Tharwat Badea and the staff of the Association for the Protection of the Environment (APE), I was able to enter and explore the fascinating world of the Zabbaleen, a unique community who for many years have collected and recycled Cairo’s rubbish. You can find out more about them and APE’s tireless outreach work at www.ape.org.eg. Sylvia Smith and Richard Duebel supplied me with crucial background information and introductions, and I am greatly indebted to them as well.

  Equally unforgettable was the time I spent with the Bedouin of Dakhla Oasis. Shukran awi to Youssef, Sayed and El Hag Abdel Hamid Zeydan and Nasser Halel Zayed – for their hospitality, their insights and for many magical days out in the desert. If you ever find yourself in Dakhla, and want to learn more about the Bedouin and their culture, be sure to stop by the Zeydans’ Bedouin Camp (http://www.dakhlabedouins.com).

  Last, but by no means least, I would like to mention two greatly valued friends – Peter Bowron and Paul Beard. Although not directly involved in the process of writing this book, they have been very much in my thoughts of late. Thanks for all the laughs, guys, and for making my life a richer, brighter, more enjoyable place. You will be sorely missed, and never forgotten.

  2153 BC – EGYPT, THE WESTERN DESERT

  They had brought a butcher with them out into the far wastes of deshret, and it was a cattle-slaughtering knife rather than a ceremonial one that he used to cut their throats.

  A savage implement of knapped yellow flint, razor-sharp and as long as a forearm, the butcher went from priest to priest expertly pressing its blade into the soft angle between neck and collarbone. Eyes glazed from the brew of shepen and shedeh they had drunk to dull the pain, their shaved heads glistening with droplets of sacred water, each man offered prayers to Ra-Atum, imploring Him to bring them safely through the Hall of Two Truths into the Blessed Fields of Iaru. Whereupon the butcher tilted their heads backwards towards the dawn sky and, with a single, firm sweep, slashed their necks from ear to ear.

  ‘May he walk in the beautiful ways, may he cross the heavenly firmament!’ the remaining priests chanted. ‘May he eat beside Osiris every day!’

  Blood spattering across his arms and torso, the butcher lowered each man to the ground and laid him flat before moving to the next priest in line and repeating the process, the row of bodies growing ever longer as he went about his business, blank-faced and brutally efficient.

  From a nearby dune top Imti-Khentika, High Priest of Iunu, First Prophet of Ra-Atum, Greatest of Seers, gazed down at this choreographed slaughter. He felt sorrow, of course, at the deaths of so many men he had come to know as brothers. Satisfaction as well, though, for their mission was accomplished and every one of them had known from the outset that this was how it must end, so that no whisper should ever be spoken abroad of what they had done.

  Behind him, in the east, he sensed the first warmth of the sun, Ra-Atum in His aspect as Khepri, bringing light and life to the world. He turned, throwing back his leopardskin hood and opening out his arms, reciting:

  ‘Oh Atum, who came into being on the hill of creation,

  With a blaze like the Benu Bird in the Benben shrine at Iunu!’

  He raised a hand, fingers spread as if to clasp the narrow rim of magenta peeping above the sands on the horizon. Then, turning again, he looked in the opposite direction, wes
twards, to the rearing wall of cliffs that ran north to south a hundred khet distant, like a vast curtain strung across the very edge of the world.

  Somewhere at the base of those cliffs, in the thick mesh of shadows that the dawn light had yet to penetrate, was the Divine Gateway: re-en wesir, the Mouth of Osiris. It was invisible from where he was standing. And it would have been to an observer positioned right in front of it, for he, Imti, had uttered the spells of closing and concealment and none but those who knew how to look would have been aware of the gateway’s presence. So it was that the place of their ancestors, wehat er-djeru ta, the oasis at the end of the world, had guarded its secrets across the endless expanse of years, its existence known only to a select few. Not for nothing was it also named wehat seshtat – the Hidden Oasis. Their cargo would be secure there. None would find it. It could rest in peace until more settled days should come.

  Imti scanned the cliffs, his head nodding as if in approval, then he pulled his gaze back, to the warped spire of rock that burst from the dunes some eight khet from the cliff face. It was a striking feature even at this distance, dominating the surrounding landscape: a curving tower of black stone bowing outwards and upwards to a height of almost twenty meh-nswt, like some vast sickle blade ripping through the desert surface or, more appropriately, the foreleg of some gigantic scarab beetle clawing its way up through the sands.