 This is the story of a man who never belonged anywhere, whose backyard is the world, whose ways of life are the dreams of escape for those who want action but never find it. The man, John Steele Adventurer. The capital of Egypt, almost two million people, situated on the Nile Delta, Cairo, where the Arabs routed the Romans in 641 A.D. and the modern Egyptians booted Farouk in 1952. Cairo, the city with its hand out, where there's a beggar, a rogue, or a peddler every three feet, and wherever you turn, a pickpocket. Yeah. Cairo, where the natives have that native intelligence, a walk around with buttoned down flaps on their pockets. But, oh, those women of Cairo, many of them the most beautiful in the world. And so I get to Cairo whenever I can, especially when a friend wires prize relics stolen, need assistance. I was lying on my back, not moving a muscle, trying to relax, trying not to move so the sweat wouldn't run in streams along my body, but it didn't do much good. The bed felt like a wet mop under me and rivers of perspiration rolled off my forehead and filled up my ears. I had a tall, cooling, suffering barstooler beside me, gin, brandy, mint, lime, and orange, ginger ale, bitters, and ice all thrown together. I'd paid 95 cents for it, and every penny was turning into sweat quickly and efficiently. I stared up at the ceiling, high, distant, almost 25 feet above my head. It wasn't very interesting, and the flies kept getting in my line of vision anyway. There seemed to be thousands of them, buzzing, diving, sweeping, crawling on my hands, my shoulders, my face. More than once I pulled the sheet over my head, but then there was always the question of which would be the better way to die by suffocation or fly bite. I couldn't sleep, kept looking at my watch, time passed slowly, too slowly, but finally it was getting on toward the hour I was to meet Atala in the bar at Shepards. Shepards, the best known, most famous hotel in the Middle East, where Napoleon stayed, where the food is good and safe. I walked along the line of people in the bar, looking under every fez for the face I saw. Finally I spotted it, light brown chubby, a friendly face with a dreamy, sensitive look about it, Atala. Oh, John! John, it's good to see you again. Great day, isn't it? This time of year in Cairo, it is always insufferable, but my-ish. You look pretty good, Atala. Well, life is sometimes wearying, but we must make the best of it. My-ish. You having some kind of trouble? A kind of trouble, yes. Tell me about it. As you know, one of my enterprises is dealing in Egyptian antiquities. Antiques? Yes. For museums, private collectors, anyone interested in ancient Egyptian culture and civilization. Sounds lucrative. Yes, it can be at times. Oh, thank you. And interesting also, but there the trouble begin. Uh, what trouble? For the past two months, John, I have been the victim of thieves. Low despicable ordinary thieves whom I know must not realize the value of the objects they abscond with. Don't make that mistake, Atala. A guy steals something, he knows its value. Yes, I know, but to make a living in such a way, to steal money or write food, perhaps a person is hungry. But to be so insensitive as to steal the ancient relics of my own country to dispose of these beautiful things for money. Probably on the black mark. I know how you must feel, Atala, but tell me, just what's been stolen? Oh, a number of things. For example, some tableware, a few bowls, a jug, two goblets. Tableware. Well, I don't get what all the fuss is about. You do not understand, John, you do not understand, my friend. Well, I guess not. At this tableware, an alabaster, beautiful object, exquisitely done, dating back to the old kingdom. Old kingdom. Which one was that? The third to the seventh dynasty, 2780 to about 2280 BC. 2780? You mean that stuff might have been close to 5,000 years old? Exactly. Now you can appreciate the value? Yeah, antique antiques. Yes? Uh, what else, Atala? Then there is a statue missing, a wooden statue of a royal physician dating back to about the time of Pernib, about 2440 BC, and an offering table of the same period. A table? How big? Oh, I should say four feet long, too high. That's not a large table. No, no, easy for a man to handle. Offering tables were not usually very large. And the statue? Oh, a little over five feet tall. In wood? Not very heavy. No. What about the police, Atala? Haven't they been able to help? Oh, the police. You know the police. They try, but, uh, ma, yes. And you think I can help? Oh, I am most great. Tell you what I'd like to do first. Yes. Have a look at the rest of your collection. You know, get an idea about what all this stuff is that you're been talking about. So as I know what I'm searching for. Oh, but of course, John. And you would have demilite my home. Be my honored guest. Good. I was angling for a good meal. Ah, let's go. Atala lived on the outskirts of Cairo. He was wealthy, and his home was large and in good taste. His hospitality, gracious and warm. It was cooler out there, and we sat cross-legged on the ground, eating and drinking and talking until the sun began to set across the Nile. Later, he took me to his private museum. An outer building where the relics of ancient Egyptian culture were sorted and kept under lock and key. I followed Atala from table to table, looking, listening, and slowly I began to catch glimpses of that ancient civilization. The easygoing happy people of the Nile, and their everyday life, their homes, their children, their religion. But all the time I was conscious of someone watching, although I didn't hear anything, see anything, till I turned my head quickly at one point and there he was, watching silently, almost like a cat, one of those Egyptian cats, his eyes gleaming brightly, following our every move. Ah, Haseen, I thought you had gone to Cairo. Oh, no. I did not go. This is Mr. Steele, Haseen, a friend of ours. He will help us. Hello, Haseen. Utherans of Amunray, Lord of Kanak. I give thee might and victory over all hill countries. I set thy glory and the fear of thee in all low countries. The terror of thee as far as the four pillars of the sky. There is none who rebels against thee in all that the sky encircles. What the ocean encircles is held in thy grasp. Uh, what's, what was that? A hymn, is it not, Haseen? And the victories of Tutmose. Yes, I hymn. That Tutmose, he was quite a guy of all that stuff is true. It is not well to ridicule the hymns. The deeds of our illustrious ancestors are, Mr. Steele. Well, I wasn't trying to be funny. I, I didn't mean to... It is not well with one who ridicule. Ah, I'm sorry, Haseen. I, I didn't mean to offend. Going back to Cairo, you will not spend the night. Oh, as long as I have a hotel room at Alla, I might as well use it. Anyway, there are a few things I have to attend to. I'll be out again in the morning. How good. By the way, that Haseen, Haseen, you, uh, had him investigated since those robberies? Haseen? Oh, no, no, no, no, not Haseen. You cannot suspect Haseen. What's so funny about it? Haseen would not steal the relics. He understands them, loves them. He would not convert them to money, either illegally or legally. Perhaps he does not have any deeper appreciation than I for them, but he has a different kind. How so? It is said that Haseen is descended directly along the royal lines of ancient Egypt, that his blood is noble and pure, that it is tied with that of the royal architect, Kapunis. Who says all this? Haseen himself, and others who know of him. Well, he sure is a strange one. Beginning of danger and a piece of the unknown. There's much of these when in a moment we hear more in the story of John Steele, adventurer. An ancient, dilapidated, gasoline-driven relic that belongs in the museum, along with the mummies, or agari. The following morning, I hired agari and went out to Atala's place again. Atala was tied up on business, so waiting for him, I wandered to the outbuilding, where I found Haseen sorting some relics that had been acquired from the ancient city of Thebes. Ah, good morning. Don't mind if I hang around here. Make yourself comfortable. Thanks. Cigarette, Haseen? I do not smoke. I'm sorry if I offended you yesterday. It is forgotten. Oh, that little table over there, Haseen. What is it? An offering table. Like the one that was stolen? Ah, yeah. What's it for? In the great days of Egypt, a long ago, it was placed in the tomb of the dead one, and upon it were placed the offerings to assure comfort and our well-being anywhere beyond the tomb. You know, they're big in those days, huh? There was a great procession, and many things were brought in offering. That's interesting, Haseen. Very interesting. It is not a subject for humor, Mr. Steele. Yeah, I know. I don't mean I'm laughing at the ceremony or anything like that. After all, the funeral ceremony is a serious thing today, still. But this stuff about bringing food. No, no, look. When a man's alive, he's got to eat. There's no question about that. But after he's dead, well, you ever see a dead man eat, Haseen? No. But have you ever been dead, Mr. Steele? Or can you prove to me that the pangs of hunger are not with us after death? If we had to feed all the dead in the world, there wouldn't be enough left for the living. But we must not forget that, Mr. Steele. You don't mean to tell me you still believe in all this stuff, do you? What one believes is one's own personal property, one's own business. Oh, now look, I... It is your right, Mr. Steele, to believe what you care to. It is my right to believe the dictates of my soul. You mean you do believe in the customs of the ancient Egyptians? I am an Egyptian. Yeah, but this is the 20th century, Haseen. Good day, Mr. Steele. Oh, now listen, I didn't mean to... Good day. By that time, Attala had finished his business conference and was free. He was sitting down to eat again and invited me to join him. That was one of Attala's favorite pastimes, eating. As I watched him stuff his mouth and grunt approval of each bit of food, I thought back to my talk with Haseen and found myself wondering whether Attala would need to consume the same amount of food after he died. And I figured it would keep his family broke for the rest of their lives. You are not teaching well, my friend. Oh, I'm not very hungry, Attala. But do have some fruit. No, no, thanks. No, thanks. I don't feel very well today. You must be careful of the food you eat in Egypt, John. Dine only in the best hotels. The larger restaurants. And anything that grows near the surface of the ground. Oh, never, never, never. I'll remember that, Attala. There is much to be said in favor of Egypt. But then there is much to be said in favor of the rest of the world also. Malish. What is this word, Malish, that everybody is so free with? Malish? Well, the best translation would be as you Americans say, what's the difference? Oh, here today, gone tomorrow. Look, is that the attitude you take about the stuff that's been stolen from you? Oh, of course not, John. Well, you haven't mentioned it since I've been here. I've been waiting for you to suggest something. Hacin. Oh, John, I told you the idea is preposterous. Hacin is from a long line of... Yeah, I know all about his ancestors. I've got a plan. Yes? Does Hacin live here? He occupies a room here. He ever leaves? Oh, he goes to the city every so often, sometimes at night. Okay. Now, I think we should tell Hacin. Follow him. Sure. All right. Tomorrow night until we're sure. But it will lead us nowhere, John. Hacin is not the thief. I'm trying to help you, Attala. And you're blocking every plan, every idea. All right. I get it, right? All right, right. We will follow him for a few days. Good. And I am sure we will find nothing to implicate Hacin in the thefts. But... Malish. The first night nothing happened. Hacin stayed home, went to bed early. The second night, we followed him into Cairo, where he sat for a while alone, drinking wine in an decrepit café. On the third night, there was a change. Hacin hired a gari. We followed in another. And he led us to the banks of the Nile, where he boarded a ferry. We followed, Attala and I, dressed in padded golebags, our faces hidden under the foals of cloth. Once long ago, perhaps the most beautiful river in the world, today a stream of filth, full of sewage, crawling with schistosomal flukes and yaw's germs, where to bathe is to invite slow, tropical death. On the West Bank, we kept a good distance behind Hacin, but never losing sight of him. Later, we were walking behind Hacin through the silent moonlit streets of the ancient city of Memphis. Once the first city of the Nile, thousands of years ago, now a dead city, whose streets lined on either side with rectangular, flat-top buildings with sloping walls, old, decaying, silent. How do you tell, Attala? A city of the dead, a mastaba fierce close to Memphis. Mastaba? As these buildings around us, mastaba, tools, tools that contain the remains of Egyptians who died in the time of the old kingdom, perhaps so 4,000 years ago. Look, look, Hacin, he's going into one of them. But that larger one over there, yes, probably the tomb of an important noble or official. Attala, yes, I have, I've got the creeps. You are not alone with them, my friend. And action. One leads to the other, and the result will hear in a moment with the climax of another adventure with John Steele, adventurer. The dark shadows on the ground and the white walls of the tombs were like towering ghosts above us. As we approached the tomb that Hacin had entered, the hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. And I felt something like a little kid again, seeing a graveyard for the first time. We entered a long, narrow passage. It led to a courtyard and around us on all sides were doors with three separate tombs here. Which one do you think he's in? Quiet. Well, come on. What are we waiting for? With a great, high, narrow door, partly open. On either side of it, two giant painted figures stood holding spears, the guardians of the dead. We went through the door, crept silently, and found ourselves in a narrow alley. It was dark. I switched on a pocket flash. The walls of the tomb jumped into sight. The passage turned to the left then. And as we turned with it, I switched off the flash. Because at the far end we could see a dim light. We crept silently. And then the passage opened into a small room lit by candles. We peeked cautiously around the corner of it. And there was Hacin on his knees before a low table, muttering in a language I couldn't recognize. And on the table were arranged bowls and flowers. There were loaves of bread and ceremonial robes. And his muttered words sounded old and obscure. I knew it wasn't Arabic. The scene was fantastic, like looking through a picture window back into the past, thousands of years into the past. I felt my heart beating loudly and thought its sound would give us away. But Hacin was too far off in his mind to realize our presence. Hattala, Hattala, what's happening? What's going on? The ancient Egyptian prayers. What the quiet? They're all here. What I recognized them. The things that were stolen. Those bowls, the anabaster bowls, the cups, those goblets. And the table. The same table. Where's the coffin? The sarcophagus. At the end of the barrier shaft, deep into the ground and the walled up. You see that shape? There has to be a door in the floor just in the back of the offering table. The ante is the false door, leading from the barrier chamber to this offering room. The deceased would ride through it to partake of the food on the offering table. Let's get out of here, Hattala. Before I start seeing 4,000-year-old mum is coming up through the floor. You wish, my friend. I relax a little, and leave the cool, refreshing air deeply. Do not know what to do. It's a problem. He has stolen, have he marised it? Yeah. Mind if I make a couple of suggestions, Hattala? I am waiting. He stole, yeah, but I don't know who that is in there. At the bottom of the barrier shaft, but it's probably one of Hasin's family. Yeah. Now, Hasin, over 80 in Senile. A little... Yeah, a little. And after all, Hattala, when some people reach that age, the mind isn't as clear as it was years before. It becomes clouded, mixed up. He's living in the past, Hattala. 4,000 years in the past. You see, it's respect. It's making him do this. Yes, yes, I understand all that, John. I understand, but... I'm also a businessman. I can't overlook the fact that my property, part of my life... Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, but look, you haven't lost the things. You know where they are. You can get them anytime. Or if they are not stolen a second time by some vanderers from the tomb itself, well, you can put a guard on the tomb. That means notifying the authority. Oh, they'll play along? Hasin won't have to know. Yes, I suppose so. You think that is the best course? What do you think? I am not sure. Malesh. Malesh. We shall return to the house. It's time for a drink. Some food.