"Stone says you've found something," Karl thudded down the sandy slope, pulling to a stop several feet from the dig site, "what is it? What's the matter?"

Massam stood well away from the others, his arm protectively about his sister's shoulder. Melanie, arms wrapped tightly about her waist, stared down into the hole. Karl hurried forward, looking at his daughter and then down into the excavation.

"What's wrong? What- oh!"

A tangle of shredded, faded red robe was bunched about the end of the stick, a damp, brown looking skull lolled sideways in a keffiyeh, it's jaw agape. The stick was buried in what would have been the chest area of the unfortunate victim and it stood at a slight angle as if contemplating its situation.

"I think we've found the missing owner of our map. It doesn't look like he enjoyed his little treasure hunt too much," Stone observed, shaking a cigarette from his pack and lighting it quickly.

"I dare say." Karl knelt down and looked at the skeleton more closely. "Amazing how the desert preserves things isn't it. It would appear someone or something took a strong dislike to our friend."

"Something?"

"Figure of speech. Bring me a blanket from the pack and we'll bundle him up for examination later."

"I hope you don't expect me-"

"I'll do it Mel, don't fret. When I'm done here, there's something I want you all to see further up. There's an interesting formation that doesn't look quite natural to me. We can take a break and get something to eat as well."

Melanie gaped at her father and turned away. Food? After this? She went over to Oura and Massam and stood with them while her father tackled the grisly task of wrapping the skeletal remains in a thin blanket. Massam moved between the two women, his arms protectively about their shoulders. Slightly more about Melanie's.

"Will you look after this Stone, please?"

"What, you mean baby sit?"

"No. I mean carry it."

"Oh. Sure. Thanks."

Further up, Karl had focused his interest on a section of the rock face that, although scarred and shaped by the winds and the sand, seemed to have an unusually structured appearance. He had brushed and scraped at the rock's face and around the edges, satisfying himself that a large portion of the surface indicated a definite shape; a rectangle that was almost as tall as he and about three feet wide. The group stood close behind him as he traced the ragged outline with his hand and explained his theory.

"This area of the wadi must have been level with the bottom of this outline. From what I see though, I don't think that it originally was. A man made plateau would be a better guess, with a ramp leading all that way up to this spot." He indicated the grade running down to where they had first entered, "Over the centuries the plateau and ramp have been worn away by the water and filled with sand by the winds. And this section here, it's too precise to be a natural formation," he explained, "you can see what looks like a definite seam across the top and down both sides. I think if we dig down here at the bottom, we'll find that it runs across the there somewhere as well."

Stone set down his unpleasant bundle and picked up a shovel, "You want me to clear away the sand there?"

"Yes. But very carefully. We don't want to disturb anything of importance."

"I thought you wanted to eat" Melanie scolded.

"Oh! Well. Maybe just some cold meat, and a bit of that bread." He gave his daughter a helpless smile and turned back to Stone. Okay. Carefully now."

Stone wagged his head not to worry and began scraping the sand down and away from the rock face. He had only cleared a depth of about two feet when they all heard a metallic clunk and he stopped abruptly.

"Let me," the professor said, "getting down on all fours and removing the sand with his hands.

"What is it?"

"It looks like ah, it is! It's a shovel, wedged in the seam . . . and look, there's the handle." He scraped away the sand along the wooden shaft, exposing the broken end.

"Uh oh!"

Melanie gasped and clutched her throat, turning to stare at the blanket wrapped skeleton. The small plate of food she'd prepared for her father, tipped silently onto the gully floor. Stone opened the blanket and pulled the other end of the shovel handle from the skeleton's chest.

"I think we have a match," he said evenly, holding the two broken ends together.

"Well now that's a strange circumstance," Karl mused, staring at the shovel handle, "could he possibly have impaled himself accidentally?"

"It must have been the freak accident of all times if he did, "Stone quipped. "Look at the rock. There at the bottom. It looks like it's been pried out a bit."

Karl wiggled the broken shovel free and set it aside, peering closely at the edge of the rock. "I believe you're right. This must have taken a superhuman bit of strength- I don't see how-"

Massam stepped forward and lifted the professor to his feet. "Come with me," he said solemnly, "stand over here and look at the whole wall." Surprised by the force of his insistence, Karl walked with him to the far side of the wadi and looked back at the wall.

"My god! Here, come here and take a look at this," he waved enthusiastically to the others. From the far side of the gully, the group stood silently taking in Massam's discovery. The section they had been studying sat smack in the centre of a rock wall that rose about thirty feet in the air; the rough surface tapering off at the top in the shape of a gabled roof. Time and the elements had worn the surfaces away but they could still see a definite form to the structure.

"Let me guess," Stone said, this is one of your monsarats."

"Mastabas Stone. Mastabas. And yes, I think that's exactly what it looks like. Of course we'd have to get up on top to determine if there is actually a roof. I was too close to this side to notice it before," he removed his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully, "unless . . ."

"Unless what?"

"Well, sometimes all that was done in a case where the cliff formations were too difficult to excavate, just a facade was created. It gave the illusion of a building without actually creating one."

"You mean like in the movies, those phony fronts?"

"Precisely. I think that's what we may have here. This is absolutely fantastic!"

"Then this must be the keystone. The final seal for the tomb inside." Oura sidled closer to her brother, seeking comfort in his nearness.

The professor was at a loss for words. How could they be so lucky? How, after thousands of years, could they stumble so easily onto such a find? He tried to absorb the whole picture all at once, his eyes sparkling, his breathing slowing almost to a halt. They must get inside. They must find a way to move the stone out of the wall. His excitement grew with each consideration and, still speechless, he turned to the others, spreading his arms and collapsed to his knees.

"Dad! Dad. Are you alright? What's the matter?"

Stone hurriedly got down and helped the older man into a sitting position, cradling him in his arms. "I think he's suffering from the shock of this discovery. Bring me my pack, hurry."

Oura was quick to respond and she knelt down beside the two men, whipping open the straps and reaching inside. "Is this what you're after?" She pulled out a small bottle about three quarters full of brownish liquid.

"That's her," Stone grinned, taking it from her outstretched hand and unscrewing the cap, "good old CC, the best cure for what ails yah."

"CC?"

Stone tipped the bottle to Karl's lips and dribbled some into his mouth. "Canadian Club whiskey. I've had this for three years now. It's my only remaining souvenir from home. A special occasion souvenir. I got it from one of my tourist friends."

Karl coughed and sputtered, pulling his head away and wiping at his mouth. He coughed again then sat up supporting himself, his eyes tearing and his hands shaking. "Thanks," he gasped, declining Stone's offer of another mouthful of the harsh warm liquid. Massam stood silently, frowning at the bottle in Stone's hand, his own gripping Oura with paternal restraint. Melanie had moved to comfort her father, smoothing his wispy hair back as she mopped his forehead with a wet cloth.

"That's it!" She scolded, "You're going to sit down, rest and have something substantial to eat."

"Don't get upset pal," Stone smiled, noting the look of displeasure on Massam's face, "That was for medicinal purposes only. You can see I haven't had many special occasions in three years," he laughed, holding up the bottle. "I promise I won't corrupt your religion." He shoved the whiskey back in his pack and did up the straps.

*****

"They're in a small gully just below the plateau. Just sitting there, waiting for something." Surri whispered as he slid back behind the rocks where Rafiman reclined comfortably. The two policemen had pressed their chase hard, making up the distance as Baeder and his hired thugs rested in wait. Finally, in the late afternoon, they found them and retreated to a safe distance while they considered their situation. Surri crept back, taking in the quarry's disposition, then returned to make his report.

"Still just three of them?"

"Yessir."

"And the camels?"

"Down and hobbled."

"Hmm. Maybe they've found the professor's group and are devising some strategy." Rafiman tore a chunk of dried goat's meat from the strip in his hand and chewed thoughtfully.

"So what's our plan?" Surri whispered again, edging closer to the Sergeant.

"Right now? We wait and observe. It'll be dark in a few hours. If we hear them move, we'll follow." Surri marveled at the Sergeant's patience. He found it difficult to just sit and do nothing and fidgeted constantly until the Sergeant glared him into silence.