Oli, A Very New Moon

  *

  Stephan had reached the night watchmen’s office on the edge of the plateau. He probably broke several distance records in doing so and on entering the office bent over with his hands on his blood-stained knees. He reeled for a second as he examined the sand-encrusted seepage.

  “I need…to use…your phone,” he gasped. He was rewarded with blank looks that would have taken both gold and silver in the first ever Olympic ‘Blank Look’ competition.

  “There’s been an accident. Someone’s trapped in the pyramid!”

  He reached inside his pocket for his pass and showed it to the two puzzled watchmen. They were sitting behind their desks, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. It was obvious from the mug stains on the desks and the overflowing ashtrays that this was how they passed the majority of their nights.

  One of the men reached out and nonchalantly slid his phone across the desk towards Stephan, who hurriedly picked up the handset and dialled the number for the Director of Pyramid Studies. He was an old friend and Stephan knew that he would listen to his unbelievable tale with an open mind.

  “Yes?” came the deep gravelly voice that Jaff had perfected over years of chain-smoking the strongest Egyptian, unfiltered death sticks.

  “Jaff, its Stephan,” he croaked, desperately trying to catch his breath in the cigarette haze of the watchmen’s hut.

  “There’s been an accident in Khufu. A friend of mine has disappeared through some kind of door into the pyramid. I know it sounds crazy, but you’ve got to come…and bring help.”

  If anyone else called him Jaff to his face, they would find themselves on the wrong side of a shovel-sized fist. His name was Jaffreisie, but if it was possible for a man as hard-edged as Jaff to have a soft spot, then it was reserved for Stephan. He was of the opinion that his friend was nothing like the endless line of pompous English grave robbers with whom he’d had to deal for years.

  “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “I mean disappeared, gone, nowhere to be seen. He was in the passage about fifteen metres behind me, heading for the lower chamber when the floor opened up, he fell in and it closed behind him.”

  There were a few seconds of silence before Jaff's voice rattled the antique earpiece of the phone.

  “Now I know you don’t do drugs and you don’t sound drunk, so I’d better come and see for myself. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Stephan put down the phone and pointed at the two guards.

  “You two, come with me.”

  He paused as they took another sip of coffee and simultaneously lit cigarettes, whilst contrarily staring at Stephan. They hadn’t understood a word of what he was saying on the phone. Just as well really, or they would have thought that he was just another crazy Englishman who’d had a little too much sun.

  “Now!” shouted Stephan, gesturing with his hand towards the door. In unison the two men pushed back their chairs and followed Stephan outside where the remains of their World War Two American Jeep was parked.