Curse of the Pharaoh: A Brock Stone Adventure

Their next set of directions were mostly cryptic references to things the man had seen along the way. It took a little while, but they soon managed to match their surroundings to the written steps. The farther they traveled, the more confident Rose became. She pointed out places where the ceiling was crumbling, and even warned him of booby traps set by some denizen of this subterranean world.

“How do you know so much about the tunnels?” Stone asked.

“I was a thief when I was younger. The underground was how I got in and out, or my means of escape if someone was chasing me. I even lived down here during difficult times in my life.” Her voice was distant, pained. Stone couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her.

“I doubt there are many who know the underground better than I,” Rose continued. “Somehow, my name and past exploits reached the ears of the wrong people, and now everyone wants my help.”

Stone frowned. What did she mean by ‘everyone’? Did she merely misspeak, or had she just let something slip? He’d been told she was an enemy. Was someone else pulling her strings? The Germans?

“You never told me your name,” Rose said.

“Smith.”

“I mean your real name. You know mine.”

“Desert Rose is your given name?” Stone asked.

“No, it’s Delilah Rose. Isn’t that terrible? Delilah means ‘delicate’.” She made a face. “My mother thought she was clever. That’s why I’m just Rose.”

“I’m just Brock.”

“Well, Brock, we have now hit a dead end. Any ideas?”

She was right. The tunnel ended at a brick wall. They were boxed in.

“Did we miss a turn?”

“I’m confident in my reading of the clues. But we are following a path laid out by a madman.” Rose bit her lip. “We can’t go back without it.”

“We might not have a choice,” Stone said.

“You might have a choice. I don’t.” Tears welled at the corners of her eyes.

“What is wrong? Did someone threaten you?”

“What do you think? I’m just a tool to you people. Disposable.”

“I’m not giving up,” Stone said. “Let’s think this through. We’re supposedly here for our respective skills. Maybe there’s something here that requires one of the tools in my toolbox.”

“You could try breaking down the brick wall with your head.”

Stone chuckled. “I would be good at that. But we’re looking for somewhere our psycho Sacagawea has already been.”

“Sack of what?” Rose asked.

“Sacagawea. She guided Lewis and Clark to the Pacific.”

“A word of advice — a joke isn’t funny if you have to explain it.”

“Understood.” Stone took a second look at the area around them. “We were guided here by an Egyptian symbol. Do you see anything that looks Egyptian?”

“All I see is graffiti.”

Words and pictures were carved or drawn all over the walls. None of it looked like a clue.

“Here is someone who thinks he’s a philosopher,” Rose said. “Listen to this. ‘Holy and perfect is the world which lives by fire.’”

Stone perked up immediately. “That is a quote from the Egyptian Book of the Dead.” He took a closer look at the inscription. This was no mere graffiti — the words were worn, but neatly engraved and lined with bronze.

Stone pressed his hand against the inscription, but nothing happened. He tried main force, but the section of wall did not budge. “This can’t be a coincidence.”

“Might the quote be important?” Rose asked. “Something having to do with fire?”

That gave Stone an idea. “I think you might be on to something. Imagine our subterranean friend is wandering through the tunnels using a torch or cigarette lighter to light his way.” Stone took out his Zippo and flicked it on. “He holds the flame near the wall so he can read the writing.” He moved his Zippo close to the wall until the flames licked the engraved letters. “The brass inside the engraving heats up and, voila!”

With a loud clunk, a hidden door swung open. Stone shined his light through. He saw rows and rows of bones. They stepped inside and looked around.

“I had no idea there was an ossuary in this part of the catacombs,” Rose said.

There was something about the rows of bones that didn’t look right to Stone. And then it struck him. Goat skulls were interspersed among the human bones. He ran his finger along a tibia and felt something strange. A closer inspection revealed sharp, straight cuts and saw marks at both ends of the bone. It didn’t take long to realize nearly all of the bones had been marred in a similar way.

“These people have been butchered,” he said.

“Maybe they were sacrificed. That looks like an altar.” Rose pointed at a rectangular block set against one wall. Its surface was stained black. “Who did this? Satanists?”

“I don’t think so.” Stone pointed up at the ceiling, where his light shined upon a familiar symbol.

“The All-Seeing Eye,” Rose marveled.

“The symbol of the Illuminati.”

Rose flinched at the mention of the secret society, made the sign of the cross. “Those people frighten me. They sit up there in their secret headquarters underneath the Pantheon, pulling strings, manipulating people.”

“How do you know for certain they really exist, much less where they are headquartered?”