Part 19 (1/2)

”Good lord,” March murmured.

Tina had lowered the video camera to take a closer look. ”Half those gemstones weren't even known to the ancient Egyptians,” she said. ”At least, not so early.”

”Narmer must have established trade routes that collapsed after his rule ended,” Stone replied, still in a quiet voice.

Tina licked dry lips. The splendor was so overwhelming she realized she was in denial. It was physically impossible to take it all in.

Stone glanced at Tina. ”What about those two shrines? I've never seen quite such configurations before.”

”I'd have to examine them more closely. But I think perhaps they form a double function. Not only are they shrines, but they are symbolic of the greatest test Narmer would face in his pa.s.sage through the Underworld: the Hall of Two Truths--a.s.suming that belief system had been developed in such an early era. But then again, they seem unique--such a dual purpose must have been lost in the dynasties following Narmer's.”

”Symbolic, you say?” Stone repeated.

”Almost as if they were to be used in a simulation of the Hall of Two Truths. A dry run, so to speak.”

”But that's unheard-of,” said March.

Tina waved a hand around the tomb, as if to say, Isn't that true of everything here?

The roustabouts were now busy a.s.sembling the stainless-steel hoist. The security guard attached the winch to it, and then--at a nod from Stone--fired up the motor. A roar filled the room before settling back to a low grumble. The roustabouts fixed the hoists' grappling hooks to the edges of the sarcophagus lid, then--moving at a snail's pace--they raised the lid from the coffin, swung it to the side, and placed it gingerly on the floor.

The security guard killed the motor and everyone--even the roustabouts--drew closer. Inside the sarcophagus was a shroud made of unknown material, woven into a complex design. Stone reached out a hand to touch it. As his glove made contact with the shroud, it crumbled away, disintegrating into gray dust.

A low murmur of dismay rose from the group, quickly changing to gasps of surprise. Through the dust, a coffin was visible within the sarcophagus--a coffin of solid gold, its face carved into the effigy of a splendidly robed king.

Without a word, Stone and March picked up the inner coffin lid by its handles and pulled it aside. Within lay a mummy, thickly covered in winding sheets. Lotus petals were strewn across its upper surface. Over the face lay a golden mask, beaten into the shape of the G.o.d-king's commanding, almost forbidding visage.

A faint smell of dust and decay rose from the mummy, but Tina did not notice it. She bent in closer, filming, heart beating fast.

”Narmer,” Stone whispered.

39.

”Ethan tells me that you never talk about your near-death experience,” Logan said.

Jennifer Rush nodded. They were seated across from each other in Logan's office. It was very late at night, and Maroon--in fact, the entire Station--seemed intensely silent. He had skipped the descent into chamber two in order to prepare for this meeting. Something inside him sensed that, in the short term, it was more important for his work--and, perhaps, for Jennifer Rush's well-being.

”I'm sure you of all people realize how unusual that is,” he went on. ”Most who've undergone an NDE like to discuss it. Your husband's research, in fact, is built on that willingness to talk.”

Still Jennifer did not speak. She lifted her eyes to his briefly, then looked away.

”Listen,” Logan said in a gentle voice, ”I'm sorry for the things I said to you earlier. I'd a.s.sumed your abilities were--well, that they were a gift. That was a naive a.s.sumption.”

”It's all right,” she replied at last. ”Everyone else a.s.sumes the same thing. It's all they talk about at the Center--what a revelation they've had, how indescribably wonderful it was, how the experience made them appreciate G.o.d, how it changed their lives.”

”Your life has changed, too--but, I sense, not in the way theirs have.”

”They hold me up as some kind of poster child,” she said, the faintest hint of bitterness in her voice. ”I'm the wife of the Center's founder, I experienced the longest NDE of anybody ever tested, my psychic abilities are the strongest. I know how important this work is to Ethan, I want to help him any way I can. It's just that ...”

”It's just that--if you spoke of your experience--you fear it might have a negative impact on the Center.”

She looked at him again, and Logan could read anxiety, even a kind of desperation, in her amber-colored eyes. ”Ethan's told me of--of your work,” she said. ”The kind of things you've done in the past. Somehow I thought you'd understand. You'd believe. I've just never had anyone else I could speak to about this. Ethan ... I don't think he'd want to hear it. It's so counter to everything he's--” She stopped.

”I'll do whatever I can to help.”

When she didn't respond, Logan continued. ”I know it's difficult, but I think the best thing would be for you to tell me, in as much detail as you can, exactly what you experienced, that day three years ago.”

Jennifer shook her head. ”I don't think I can do that.”

”Share it with me. If you bring it out in the open, it may lose its ability to disturb you.”

”Disturb,” she repeated mirthlessly.

”Look, Jennifer--may I call you Jennifer? I'm an empath--I'll experience it, too, at least in part. I'll be there every step of the way. If things get too difficult, we'll stop.”

She looked at him. ”You promise that?”

”Yes.”

”And you really think this might help?”

”The more you can confront it, the easier it will be for you to deal with.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. ”All right.”

Logan reached for his duffel, rummaged around inside it, found his digital timer, and placed it on his desk. ”I'll turn out the lights. I want you to sit back in your chair, get as comfortable as you can.”

He stood up, shut the door of his office, turned off the lights. Now the room was illuminated only by the timer and the glow of his laptop screen. He returned to his chair and took her hands in his.

”Now just relax. There's no hurry. Think back to what you remember happening, during and after the car accident. Start when you're ready. Relate the experience to me in real time, if possible. Use the clock as a guide.”

He sat forward and fell silent. For a long time, he heard nothing but Jennifer's regular breathing. So much time pa.s.sed, in fact, that he wondered if she had fallen asleep. Then--out of the darkness--she spoke.

”I was in my car,” she began. ”I was driving down s.h.i.+p Street, near Brown University. All of a sudden this SUV--it was blue, with a big black push bar on the front grille--swerved out of the oncoming lane and hit me.”

She swallowed, took a deep breath, then continued. ”There was this terrible impact, a cras.h.i.+ng noise, an instant of pain, a flash of white. Then, for a long, long moment--nothing.”

Logan reached over, set the timer to fourteen minutes--the amount of time Jennifer Rush had been clinically dead.

”The next thing I remember was my head feeling uncomfortably ... well, full. I don't really know how else to describe it. Then there was this buzzing noise. It started very softly and slowly grew louder. It frightened me. And then all of a sudden it stopped, and I found myself moving very quickly down a dark pa.s.sageway. I wasn't walking or running--I remember I was being pulled. And then there was another flash of white. For a moment, nothing more. And then I was ... I was hovering over a hospital bed, looking down at myself, lying on a gurney. It was odd, that hovering: I wasn't exactly still; I was moving slightly, up and down, as if floating in a swimming pool. Doctors and nurses were standing around. Ethan was there. He--he had defib paddles in his hands. They were all talking.”

”Do you remember what they were saying?” Logan asked.

Jennifer thought for a moment. ”One of them said: 'Hypovolemic shock. We never had a chance.' ”