While Melanie's camera flashes highlighted the room with bursts of eerie white light, Stone idly brushed away some of the dust on the lid of the sarcophagus. He glanced down at the spot, then went and retrieved a torch, holding it close to the lid.

"Hey professor. Whata ya make of this?"

Karl came over and studied the area Stone had cleared. "Looks like scratches. Wait a minute!" He quickly found his pack and rooted around for his journal and a small whisk. "Look. See!" He brushed away a larger spot and revealed what appeared to be writing. Flipping through the pages of his journal, he slapped the paper and exclaimed, "I thought that looked familiar. See here, it's the same glyph that refers to Arom Phat. And here's the symbol for Hasramus, the king in that coffin."

Stone compared the marks and agreed, "So Amin's legend might be true after all. Hey Massam. Get a load of this." He turned to find that the Bedouin was gone from the doorway. "What the hell-" Stone ran to the outer chamber and found Massam on his knees, hands clasped and murmuring in Arabic. "What's this about buddy?"

Massam's head came up, his face as pale as it could be, for a Bedouin, "We are cursed. The legend of Arom Phat has come true."

"What're ya talkin' about? Nothings happened?"

"We must leave this place now," Massam stood up, begging urgently.

"Geez, take it easy pal," Stone placed a comforting arm about the Bedouin's shoulder, "we solved the breeze thing and there sure as hell isn't anything else moving in here." His attempted smile fell flat as Massam pulled away and moved toward the chamber entrance. "Okay, look," he held out his hands in peace, "you go on back outside and wait with your sister. I'll hurry the others along and we'll talk about it out there, okay?"

Massam paused for a moment, gave him a curt nod and turned, disappearing up the darkened tunnel. As he did, Stone watched in surprise as the panel door began to swing slowly shut. With a yelp, he lunged forward, grabbing the door and bracing his foot against the jamb. "Out here! Quick, somebody." Melanie's face appeared in the opening to the inner chamber and her eyes widened in fright, "Oh m'god. Dad! Dad come quick." Father and daughter raced across the room to help Stone hold the heavy panel open.

"What happened?"

"It just started to close. Right after Massam ran out. We need something to jam it open."

"Massam ran out? Why?" Karl grunted, shifting his body for a better purchase.

"Can we talk about Massam after, professor."

"Right, of course. Mel, bring a few of those dead torches and wedge them under the bottom." Stone leaned against the back of the door and pushed. Standing back, he dusted his hands off and slapped them together.

"That should work," he said, tugging on the rope he had looped around the panel and strung across to an anchoring position on the far wall. He walked around and kicked the torch wedges more firmly in place with a satisfied grunt.

*****

The sudden force of the arm about his neck and the coarse hand over his mouth, took Massam completely by surprise. In vain he struggled against their hold as he felt himself being dragged down the dark, narrow passage. His eyes bulged with terror as Amin's tale of the tomb's curse rampaged in his mind. He could feel sharp pains from his shoulders banging against the passage walls as his frantic fingers clawed at the suffocating hand. His captor stopped briefly and Massam heard a grinding, like sand on stone, then he was roughly pulled backwards again, through an opening and into a large room. His captor threw him roughly to the floor and Massam heard the grinding once again, then silence. He lay still; sore, terrified and panting for breath. The harsh light of the torch struck him in the face and he flung his hand up to counteract its glare. For a few seconds he could see nothing but a yellow aura, which gradually subsided until he could make out the hunched figure standing before him.

Massam thought for sure he was in the presence of some ancient ghost, ready to wreak its vengeance for their intrusion of the tomb. When the ghost spoke, his hand dropped and he gaped in total confusion.

"Don't try anything funny you thief, I'm the only one who knows the way out of this room."

"Allah protect me!" Massam babbled, certain that his ears had deceived him.

"Don't gimme that Allah crap! What are you doing in that chamber? How did you find this place? How many are with you?" The figure moved closer, threatening Massam with the torch, "Answer me or I'll—"

"Wait! Spare me!" Terrified, Massam pulled himself into a kneeling position in front of the shadowy giant, "I did not want to enter the tomb. I was only acting as a desert guide for the others. I beg you, don't deliver your curse on this ignorant Bedouin servant."

"Curse? What the- . Do you understand what's happening here?"

Massam hung his head, muttering, "Arom Phat's curse has come true. I am to be destroyed by his terrible vengeance."

The room filled with a sharp, cackling laugh and the man backed away, pointing an amused finger at Massam's cringing form. "Oh boy! That's the best I've heard in a long while, you bet." Suddenly the room became brighter as he moved about igniting more torches, jutting from their iron wall sconces. "Take a look at me my friend. Do I look like some vengeful mummy?"

Massam raised his head and stared at the figure before him. He shook his head in bewilderment at the dark, twinkling eyes peering out from a face covered in a huge bushy thatch of grey beard. The man wore a dull, dusty plaid shirt, tucked into a pair of brown cotton pants, which in turn, were tucked into a pair of well worn cowboy boots that had been scraped almost ragged. His hair was darker than his beard and it was tied back in a pony tail, with a leather thong that trailed its loose ends down over a broad pair of thick shoulders.

"You- you aren't a demon? You're a- a Westerner?"

"The man laughed again with a rather pleasant sound. "Yes I'm a Westerner, and only my friends think I'm a demon." He moved toward the nervous Bedouin, offering his hand in peace. "Stand up and introduce yourself. My name is Harry Lassiter; American, treasure hunter, world traveller and until now, the only living thing in this tomb."

Massam stood shakily, taking the offered hand and returning the grip firmly. "Massam Benji, Mister Lassiter, Bedouin desert guide."

Lassiter stepped back, placing his huge hands on his hips, his face taking on a stern demeanor, "Okay Benji, start explaining."

Massam gazed about the room. It was about the same size as the inner chamber he'd seen, but bereft of any wall ornamentation. Only a few broken pots, some long rolls of paper, a couple of well worn haversacks and a camp stool occupied the space. He searched the walls for the door they had entered through, but could find no trace. Feeling a little more in control, and more than relieved that he was dealing with a human being and not some apparition from the past, he obliged Harry Lassiter with the entire chain of events from when Stone first approached him.

"I'll be a son-of-a-bitch!" Lassiter sat on his camp stool shaking his head and peering up at Massam with a weary expression. "I've been diggin' around this damn place for seven months, if you count the three from a year ago, and you lot march in here, and in one day- one day! You find an entrance. The outer chamber, and the goddamn sarcophagus!" He slapped his leg and buried a hand in his wild beard, "How the hell do you account for that?"

Massam studied his wild looking host, warming to the man's seeming good nature, "After the discovery of the keystone, we followed the breeze to the outer chamber. The panel was open."

"I was working in there when I heard you all shouting. I made a beeline back here."

"But there were no footprints in the chamber? How could that be?"

Harry pulled what looked like a long, fat flashlight from a flapped pocket in the leg of his pants, "This. It's a battery operated blower. I use it instead of a brush for clearing sand and dust away when I'm working. It's got three speeds, see!" He turned on the blower and aimed it at the floor, stirring the imprinted sand until their prints vanished. "I didn't have time to reseal the panel. You were getting too close. But what's this about a breeze?"

"We felt a disturbance in the tunnel- at the junction. It led us to the outer chamber."

"Hell, I bin workin' in there for ages, I never felt no breeze. Weird."

"Why did you hide?" Massam waved his hand to erase the question, "No! Better still, how did you get in here?"

Harry shoved the blower back in his pocket and clasped his hands together, "I'm not sure I should give up that little secret just yet. I need to think a bit about how I'm goin' to handle this situation."

"But I've told you everything. My companions are good people. Honest people. Why not just come out and meet them, share information?"

"There's the rub my friend. I am just one, with seven hard months invested in this project. Now I'm supposed to share with what, seven more? Seven who have spent one day to find what I couldn't in seven months?"

Massam remained silent, watching the man hopefully. He knew that the professor would do the honourable thing, but how to convince this foreigner? "What do you plan to do with me?"

Harry stood and paced about the room, kicking his boots against the bottom of the walls as he did. The frightening shape of his shadow followed him about, dancing eerily in the fluttering light of the torches. "Here's what we'll do," he stopped and, plunging his hands in his pockets, tilted his head toward the Bedouin, "we'll go outside where I can take a peek at this crew of yours and, if I'm satisfied with what I see, you'll call your boss up, alone, to have a little chat. We'll be going out a different way so you'll have to be blindfolded." Massam considered his options and, finding them wanting, spread his hands in a gesture of agreement.

The rush of fresh air swept over his face and he breathed deeply with surprise and relief. Harry steered him carefully by the arm up a long slope that forced them to move sideways because of its narrow configuration. He felt himself jerked roughly to the ground as they finally emerged into, what he felt, was open air.

"Not a peep Benji. I like you, but trust has to be earned."

Massam nodded blindly as he sensed Harry moving silently away from him.