The Great Pyramid
Parnell Winston faced the group of Egyptian scientists in the crowded
radio-telescope control room. Rick and Scotty waited impatiently for the
scientist to begin. They knew something important was coming up, from
remarks dropped by Winston earlier, but they didn't know what.
"Gentlemen," Winston began, "I and my young associates came at Dr.
Kerama's request because of the assumption that internal or local
difficulties had caused the strange peaks in your Sanborn tracings of
the first tryouts of the new system. The assumption was a natural and
logical one. However, we have demonstrated that it isn't true. The
system is working so perfectly that I must congratulate you. It is
seldom that anything so complex functions as well in the early stages."
Winston paused thoughtfully. "Of course Dr. Kerama realized that it
would be highly unusual to have internal circuit trouble cause such
signals. But what we have left, after eliminating the possibilities of
both internal and local interference, is something even more unusual. In
fact, it is fantastic."
Rick moved forward a little. He didn't want to miss any of this, because
he knew Winston, and he had never before seen the scientist so excited.
"What we have is a source of neutral hydrogen out in space, over five
thousand light years away from earth. This source is moving at such
incredible velocity that it is very close to the speed of light."
There was a stunned silence in the room. Rick considered the
implications of Winston's statement. The scientist had spent hours with
Kerama and Farid going over the Sanborn tracings, checking the location
of the source as shown by the big telescope's position. The change in
the source's position, from the time of first discovery to yesterday's
checking of the system, had given enough data to calculate its velocity
with reasonable accuracy.
The big unknown was the precise distance of the source. Readings from a
single position could not give distance with high accuracy, so the
scientists weren't sure of their figures--yet.
Winston asked, "Dr. Kerama, do you want to explain what we have
decided?"
The Egyptian scientist nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Winston. And thank you on
behalf of all of us for determining that our mystery does not come from
the receiver system itself, or from nearby."
Kerama faced the group. "Last night I sent cables, giving detailed
information on times, locations, and our computations to the
radio-telescope stations at Manchester, England, and Green Bank and
Goldstone in the United States. I also, at Dr. Winston's suggestion,
sent similar information to the Mount Palomar Observatory.
"If the other radio telescopes are able to participate, it will serve to
confirm or disprove our own information. If confirmed, we will then have
a precise fix on the source that has caused us so much concern. We will
also have the benefit of continuous consultation with our American and
English colleagues. At the same time, the two-hundred-inch telescope at
Palomar will attempt to see this strange object and to photograph it."
Rick knew of the huge American radio telescope at Green Bank, West
Virginia, and the smaller one at Goldstone Lake, in California. Both had
tracked space probes to incredible distances. The Manchester telescope,
more generally known as Jodrell Bank, had also tracked probes. With a
team like that working along with Sahara Wells, results ought to be
coming fast.
Dr. Kerama continued. "We have been so concerned with what we thought
was a problem that we have not accumulated all possible data on this
hydrogen source. We will start at once to do this. The first step, of
course, is to determine how long it is within view of our antenna, so
that we may set up a schedule. The next is to obtain as much material as
we can on the 21-centimeter wave length. After that we will shift to
other wave lengths to see if the source is emitting. Dr. Farid will make
assignments."
Farid stood up. "A radio-teletype circuit will be installed at once.
Work is already in progress in the city, and we should have installation
crews here within an hour or two. That will enable us to keep in touch
with the other stations. For now, I would like Dr. Mandarawi and Dr.
Azrar to establish the time when the source will be within our horizon,
and set up the necessary data for the operator in charge of each shift.
The rest of us will check out the circuit and establish calibration to
be ready for recording this afternoon."
The scientist gestured to Rick and Scotty. "We know that the source will
not come up over our horizon until about one o'clock. When it does, we
would appreciate your help in making audio recordings. Until then,
you're on your own."
"What'll we do?" Scotty asked.
Rick looked at his watch. It was shortly after nine. "Why not go over to
see the pyramids? Then we can have lunch at the Mena House and come back
in time to go to work."
"Good idea. Better tell Winston, though, in case something comes up."
Rick did so, and the boys went outside to where Hassan waited patiently.
They told him their plans and got into the little car for the short
drive to Giza.
"I got some of that, but not all," Scotty said. "Give me a brief
rundown."
"Okay. I'm no expert, but I think I got the drift. To start with, the
most common thing in space is hydrogen gas. It gives off energy that can
be detected on the 21-centimeter wave length. This is important to the
radio astronomers, because they can use their telescopes to figure out
how hydrogen is distributed throughout the universe."
"I'm with you," Scotty said. "Now our boys have proved that the funny
signals in the hydrogen impulse they've been getting originate in space,
and hydrogen shouldn't act like that."
"That's it. Also, a hydrogen source in space ought to stay fixed. But
this one is shooting off at high velocity. That would be strange enough,
but it's also giving off signals that don't seem natural."
"So the scientists yell for help from their colleagues in America and
England, and perhaps someone can figure out what's causing this strange
behavior?"
"On the button, ol' buddy."
Scotty grinned. "It will probably turn out to be an Egyptian space cat
mewing for milk from the Milky Way."
Rick patted the kitten in his pocket. He had replaced the one turned
over to the intruder the night before. Now, as he told Scotty, only two
orphan kittens needed homes. But placing the kittens didn't answer the
questions that puzzled him. Why was the Egyptian cat important? And who
were the people that wanted it?
There were things about the mystery that didn't add up. For instance,
Fuad Moustafa had written a polite letter claiming the cat, but strictly
impolite and violent efforts had been made to get it. And where were the
brothers Moustafa?
Hassan drew to a stop before the great pyramid of Khufu. "We here. Want
to go in?"
"In a while," Rick answered. "We'll take a look around outside, first."
The boys got out of the car and gazed upward at the incredible pile of
masonry. The blocks were huge, weathered by centuries of wind and sand.
Once the whole pyramid had been covered with a smooth facing of stone,
but much of it had been destroyed by thieves trying to find the entrance
to the Pharaoh's tomb.
Rick saw that the top of the lowermost course of blocks was covered with
chips of the weathered stone. He picked up a couple and put them in his
pocket. His rock collection at home could use a genuine piece of
pyramid, and his sister Barby would like one for a paperweight.
"This could be climbed," Scotty said, gazing upward.
"Oh, yes," Hassan affirmed. "Some guides go up to top all the time. Can
show you best way. You want to go?"
"Not now," Scotty said. "Let's look around first. But I'm going to climb
this before we leave."
"And I'll be with you," Rick said.
They reached the corner of the pyramid and Rick sighted along the edge.
The thing that impressed him most was the size of the individual blocks.
Photographs were usually taken at sufficient distance to show the entire
pyramid. At that distance they looked pretty smooth. Close up, it was a
tremendous jigsaw puzzle of blocks that weighed tons.
Rick had expected a considerable number of tourists and guides, but
apparently it was too early. Down by the Sphinx he saw a few Arabs, but
no foreigners were in sight. He was glad they could see at least a part
of Giza before the crowd arrived. "Take us inside, Hassan," he
requested.
"Can do. You follow."
Hassan led the way to the center of the side. High above their heads, he
pointed to a hole. "Up there."
The three climbed through tumbled blocks to the opening and paused to
look around. This was not the opening the Pharaoh had intended. It had
been made by thieves, centuries ago. By boring downward at an angle,
they had intercepted the inner passageways that led to the buried king
and his treasure.
Electric lights were strung along the corridor at intervals, but the
passage was far from bright. Hassan led the way, with Rick following and
Scotty bringing up the rear.
Scotty's voice reverberated in the stone passageway. "I've been thinking
that you ought to be just about overcome with happiness. Two mysteries
on your hands, one detective type and one scientific type, and now
you're walking into the middle of a few million tons of rock. How full
can life get?"
Rick grinned. "And you're not happy at all. Just came along for the
ride, I suppose?"
"Oh, I'm happy. But I'm a simple soul. One mystery at a time and plenty
of chow is all I need."
They left the tunnel cut by the thieves and found themselves in a broad
concourse with high ceiling and walls that still held the remnants of
ancient decorations. Rick's vivid imagination could picture the scene as
it must once have been, with torches lighting the route as the mighty
Khufu was carried by richly clad slaves along this route to the inner
crypt.
Hassan pointed to where a side passage led upward. "Room there. Queen
buried, but nothing now. All gone. Thieves take."
This was the story of Egypt. Few tombs had been found intact. That was
why finding Tut-Ankh-Amon had been of such importance. Most of the
burial places of the Pharaohs had been found and looted many centuries
ago. One such tomb would make a band of thieves and their descendants
rich. But while the thieves had grown fat, history had suffered. Each
rifled tomb meant quantities of historical materials lost forever.
Scotty held up a hand. "Someone coming."
"More tourist, maybe," Hassan offered.
Rick looked around. In the echoing chamber it was hard to tell the
direction from which the footsteps were coming, and whether it was one
person or many. Hassan was probably right, he thought. It was late
enough in the day for tourists to be arriving.
And on the heels of the thought, Arabs erupted from the entrance through
which they had come!
There was less than a second of doubt. The men were after them! Rick saw
Scotty crouch as an Arab charged, saw the Arab go headlong through the
air as Scotty caught him in a judo throw. Then Rick and Hassan were
fighting for their lives!
An Arab rushed at Rick, arms widespread, and the boy stepped between the
arms and threw a short punch that caught the attacker squarely on the
nose. Blood spurted and he let out an anguished yell, then Rick put a
foot in his stomach and heaved. The man flew backward, arms flailing,
and landed on top of one who was grappling with Hassan. The guide took
advantage of the break to grasp his second assailant around the middle
and dump him. The guide kicked expertly and the Arab lay still.
Scotty was backing away from two of them when Rick charged to the
rescue. He hit one from behind, his shoulder taking the man at the
knees. The Arab slammed forward. Scotty jumped in and grabbed his second
attacker by the burnoose, then fell backward with him and flipped. The
Arab flew through the air like an ungainly bird and slammed into the
farther wall.
Rick choked back a yell of despair as three more Arabs charged through
the passageway. They were hopelessly outnumbered now. He saw Hassan with
an Arab's throat between his hands, and he saw another attacker coming
up on the guide from behind, a knife in his hand.
There wasn't time to reach Hassan. Rick had only one weapon. He plucked
the concrete kitten from his pocket and threw, his whole body giving the
flying statue speed and direction. It caught the knife wielder where his
headdress met his ear. He dropped as though hit with an ax. The kitten
fell to the stone floor and shattered.
Three Arabs hit Scotty at the same time. Rick dove headlong into the
fray and got his hands around a stubble-covered face. He put a knee in
the man's back and wrenched, but the Arab turned like a cat and reached
for his throat.
A voice yelled in Arabic. Miraculously, the Arabs fell back. As Rick and
Scotty got to their feet they saw the burnoosed figures raise hands
high.
[Illustration]
At the passage entrance was a man in Western dress, an Egyptian with a
bristling mustache and a tremendous nose. He was obviously a person of
authority, and the authority was made plain by the Luger automatic
pistol he held in his hand.
The Arabs crowded together, hands high. Then, at another sharply spoken
Arabic phrase, they all lay face down on the floor, arms stretched out
before them.
At that moment the newcomer's eyes caught sight of the broken kitten on
the stone floor. He stiffened, and he took a step toward it. Then he
reconsidered.
"Mr. Brant, or Mr. Scott," he commanded. "One of you only. Bring me the
pieces of the cat!"