Project Solaris 2: Hero Rising (6 page)

"Everyone ready?" Jillian asked.

"Let's do it," Summers said, giving a tight nod. She wore her blonde hair in a simple ponytail, and had donned a pair of large sunglasses similar to Kali's.

Marcus just nodded. Jillian pulled me a little closer, then there was a brief feeling of weightlessness. When it faded, we were crouched atop an adobe rooftop. After the perfectly controlled climate of the ship, the heat was sweltering, and sweat immediately drenched my shirt. I fished out my own sunglasses, and found myself squinting even through them. The rooftop was so hot, I could feel it through my shoes. 

The other thing that struck me was the noise. There were car horns, a jet flying above, church bells, and hundreds of voices yelling in at least two languages I didn't understand. This place was every bit as large as Los Angeles, and a whole hell of a lot more confusing. Buildings towered around us, and the streets were clogged with the same kind of vehicles we'd have seen back in the states. I was damn glad Mohn was supplying a guide, because I seriously doubted I'd be able to navigate the tightly packed streets.

"Okay, into the alley," I said, moving to the edge of the roof. I scanned it to make sure it was empty, then hopped down to the top of a dumpster. Jillian landed next, and the other two a moment later. I moved to the mouth of the alley, scanning the traffic.

I walked casually into the crowd, pushing my way toward the front door. The wood was cracked and faded, the adobe caked with dark dirt. The building was a stark contrast to its neighbors, a three-story restaurant, and a ten-story skyscraper. I pulled open the door, gesturing for the others to enter. They did so and I followed, entering a room that was marginally cooler. A ceiling fan swung lazily above us, the breeze welcome.

We'd entered a wide room with a single counter. A bearded man with vacant eyes sat smoking a cigarette, his attention never wavering from the tiny color television behind the counter. I approached, clearing my throat as I leaned my elbows on the counter.

The man swiveled on his chair, slowly turning to face me. He sized me up, then shifted his gaze to Jillian. He perked up immediately, delivering a gap-toothed smile. "Tourists. Do not be worrying, I speak English. Very good English. Are you here to see pyramids?"

"Uh, we're meeting someone," I replied, glancing around the room. A ripped couch sat in one corner, with a three-legged table in front of it. Not exactly the Hilton. "Is a Doctor Galk staying here?"

"Ah yes, Doctor Galk and his lovely lady friend have been with us for two days," the man said, nodding eagerly. The cigarette left streamers of smoke as he gestured up the stairs. "I will fetch him, but first you will be wanting rooms, yes?"

"Yes," I said, glancing at the others. "We'll need two."

"Of course, of course," the man said, finally setting his cigarette in an ashtray. He withdrew a big brown book from under the counter. "Please sign our guestbook. The cost will be $100 per night for two rooms, and we serve dates and coffee for breakfast. I would offer a guide, but I'm assuming that Doctor Galk will serve this purpose, yes?"

"Indeed I will," came a strong voice from the left. I turned to see the speaker, a tall, handsome man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a form-fitting black T-shirt that highlighted his well-muscled shoulders. "Welcome to Cairo, David. I'm Doctor Stephen Galk. I've been expecting you."

Chapter 11- Steve

Steve crossed the lobby, giving us a warm smile as he approached. He wasn't at all what I'd expected, and looked like he could have fallen off the cover of
GQ
. The girls noticed it, too. Both Jillian and Summers were paying rapt attention in exactly the way I'd expect if they were meeting a superstar. I suppressed a surge of jealousy, and tried not to dislike the guy on sight. I failed.

"Doctor Usir said you needed the world's foremost anthropologist, and he paid a premium to get me here," Doctor Galk said, offering me a hand. I shook it, and noted that his grip was more firm than mine. Not enough to hurt, but enough to show it could if he wanted to.

"Thanks for meeting us, Doctor Galk," I said, struggling to keep my tone neutral.

"Please, call me Steve," he gave back, releasing my hand and offering it to Jillian. He gave her a brilliant smile. "This must be the lovely Jillian, and I'm guessing that would make you Summers."

Both ladies smiled at the attention, and I noticed that Steve held Jillian's hand longer than was necessary. Marcus and I shared a look, and I was comforted by the scowl the black man wore. He clearly didn't like Steve any more than I did.

"Shall we head up to my room? This isn't the best place to discuss my findings." Steve wasn't really asking. He started for the stairway without looking back, clearly assuming that we'd follow. I was annoyed, but I trotted up the stairs after him. The others followed.

Steve led us to the first of four doors at the top of the stairs, a thin particle board with a brass handle. He opened it with a creak, stepping into wide but sparsely furnished room. Two chairs sat next to a small table opposite the bed, and one of those chairs was occupied by a petite brunette with her face buried in a textbook. She looked up as we entered, blinking once before giving a warm smile. She was next-door beautiful, with a comfortable white blouse and a pair of khaki shorts. 

"They're here," the woman said, rising and kissing Steve. She turned to the group, looking at us each in turn. "Which one of you is David?"

"This is Bridget," Steve said, smoothly seizing control of the conversation. He even took a half-step closer, shielding Bridget from us with his body. My dislike intensified. "Bridget is my associate, and has been helping me piece together the mystery Doctor Usir paid us to solve."

"I'm David," I said, stepping smoothly around Steve and offering Bridget my hand. She shook it, shooting me a dazzling smile. I upgraded her from next-door beautiful to simply gorgeous. "That's Jillian, Summers, and Marcus. Doctor Usir said you might be able to help us."

"That we can," Steve said. His smile hadn't wavered, but his eyes had gone hard when Bridget smiled at me. "Please, be seated."

Steve sat in the chair next to the one Bridget had been sitting in, and she returned to sit next to him. That left the bed as the only remaining place to sit, and I gestured at Marcus. He nodded gratefully and sat with Summers. Jillian and I remained standing.

"Why don't you tell us precisely what mystery Usir has you working on?" I began. I didn't know how much Steve had been told, and if I went spouting off about aliens, it was quite possible he'd laugh in my face.

Steve crossed his arms, then licked his lips before speaking. "Usir came to us with a rather preposterous theory. He claims that a culture existed that predates recorded history, and that traces of that culture exist here in Egypt. He's tasked me with finding those traces. Specifically, he's asked me to locate something that modern Egyptology believes to be a hoax."

He paused then, letting his gaze roam the lot of us. I knew what he wanted, so I finally just asked. "What would that be?"

"The Hall of Records, first mentioned by Edward Cayce in the 1940s," Bridget broke in. Steve shot her an annoyed glance, but she continued as if she hadn't noticed. "It's reputed to be a repository of knowledge, much like the Library of Alexandria. Cayce claimed that it was the last storehouse for the Atlanteans."

"So you're searching for Atlantis?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. He shot me a look, and I didn't need telepathy to know that he thought we were wasting our time.

"Far from it," Steve supplied, seizing the conversation once more. "Atlantis may or may not be myth. In the absence of any real data, we simply can't know. What we do know is that there are cultures older than anything modern science has discovered. Ruins in Turkey date to over 9000 B.C.E., for example. That's a good four millennia before writing was discovered, or before we'd first harnessed the power of agriculture. We have no idea who built those ruins, or why."

"...And that has what to do with this repository?" Jillian asked. Her tone was dangerously flat. 

"More than you might think," Steve gave back, staring intently at Jillian. "A similar culture likely existed here, and they left behind one of the world's greatest monuments. One that we've falsely attributed to the Egyptians."

"Oh?" I asked, leaning against the wall. I was still drenched in sweat, and definitely wished the room had more chairs.

"The Sphinx is far older than originally assumed," Steve continued, leaning forward and steepling his fingers. "Research conducted in the mid 90s by Robert Schoch and John West concluded that the enclosure and the Sphinx itself had both endured centuries, possibly millennia, of water erosion."

"How is that possible in the Sahara?" I asked.

"The Sahara wasn't always a desert," Bridget broke in excitedly. "Our current climate has changed a great deal over the last ten to twelve millennia. Back then, this was all savannah. Africa was a far wetter place, and if the Sphinx existed, it could have experienced just the sort of water erosion Schoch theorized. It would also have meant that widespread agriculture would have been possible here."

I glanced at Jillian, but she just shrugged. None of us knew anything about this, but then that was why Usir had assigned us an anthropologist. I turned back to Steve. "So if the Sphinx belongs to this older culture, you think it's a clue to this...what did you call it, the Hall of Records?"

"Precisely," Steve said, smiling. "Cayce claimed that the Hall lay somewhere under the paws of the Sphinx. Most people assumed that to be nothing but nonsense, but when Schoch conducted his research, he found something odd. There is a cavity under the paws, roughly twelve meters by nine meters. It's a mere five meters under the surface."

"If that chamber exists, why hasn't the Egyptian government excavated it?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

"They've been petitioned many times, but they feel that Schoch's evidence is inconclusive. They don't want to risk damaging such an important monument over what they feel is a hoax." Steve folded his arms, adopting a pensive look. "Unfortunately, I haven't found any way into the chamber, assuming it really exists. Nor have I found any additional information about it. There are a lot of rumors, but only Cayce's testimony can be validated, and that was nothing more than a vision. He could have made the entire thing up."

"Obviously we can't just drill into the rock," Bridget said, leaning forward in her chair. "It would be too loud, and far too conspicuous. The answers we need are frustratingly close, but still out of reach."

"Can you get us access to the Sphinx?" I asked, glancing at Jillian. She gave me a knowing smile. Her abilities could get us into that chamber.

"Sure," Steve said, shrugging. "There are tours heading there constantly. We can be there in two hours if you like."

Chapter 12- The Sphinx

We boarded an aging red bus just outside the hotel, with a conveniently colorful picture of the pyramids on the side. It wasn't as crowded as I'd expected, and the five of us were nearly alone toward the back of the bus. I studied the city as we rumbled up a wide street that could have belonged in Los Angeles, threading past skyscrapers, mosques, and a very modern hospital. 

There was very little conversation, though Marcus and Summers spent a great deal of time whispering. Summers' head rested against Marcus' shoulders, and he wore a half-smile. The behavior, especially hers, seemed out of keeping, but I suppose that kind of near-death experience could definitely change a person. 

"It's nice seeing them happy," Jillian said, her hand finding mine. She gave me a warm smile.

"Yeah, I'd say they deserve it after everything we've all been through," I replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

We'd finally stolen a march on our enemies, or so it felt. Even the knowledge that there might be a spy in our midst wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. We'd rescued Janaki, and thanks to Osiris we had a starting point. If we could find this Hall of Records, maybe we could learn more about the Black Knight satellite. 

"It isn't much further," Steve called. He'd donned a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap that he somehow managed to make stylish. It might have been my imagination, but he sounded a little annoyed. Maybe that was because he'd insisted Bridget stay behind, probably so he could flirt with Jillian and Summers. Summers had Marcus, and Jillian was with me, which meant his charms were wasted. Ha-fucking-ha.

The bus emerged from between a pair of large apartment buildings onto a wide lane. A row of large buses, vans, and a smattering of cars clogged the roadway ahead of us. It wasn't hard guessing why. Before us loomed the Great Pyramids of Giza, far more majestic in person than I'd ever have imagined.

"The tallest one, the pyramid built by Khufu, is over forty-five stories tall," Steve said, gesturing at the grand structures. "It's nearly fifty centuries old, the oldest structure of its size in the entire world. Amazing, isn't it?"

"It is," I said, transfixed by the view. The bus inched forward, winding traffic toward a large parking lot where people were debarking.

The Sphinx was considerably less impressive, at least from a distance. I could only make out the head, which was worn to the point where I could barely make out facial features. It was tiny compared to the pyramids themselves, but if Steve was right about the Hall of Records, it was both far older and far more important than the more majestic pyramids.