The Sands Of Time Part 27

Tegan and Norris lay together in a crumpled heap on the floor. They watched helplessly as the mummy carried Vanessa through the broken remains of the door and out into the night.

Tegan struggled to her feet and ran to see where it was going. Norris was close behind her, choking back a sob. The mummy was almost out of sight round the corner of the house. They ran to catch up, and watched in silence as it strode through the back garden and started across the swamp.

It was dusk, and the last tourists had left. There was n.o.body to hear the echoing grind and wheeze of the TARDIS as it faded into existence in the King's Chamber of the Great Pyramid. The door swung open, and the Doctor stepped out. He stopped dead, frowned, and then stepped aside to let Atkins and Kamose join him.

'Not quite as planned, I'm afraid,' the Doctor said. 'But fairly close.'

'The Great Pyramid,' Atkins breathed.

'Yes.' The Doctor swung round, hands in pockets. The lights were still lit for the day's visitors, throwing their shadows distorted and lengthened on to the walls. 'Pyramid power, I should have realized.'

'What's that, Doctor?'

'What? Oh, yes of course.' The Doctor set off across the chamber. 'Let's get Kamose pointing towards Cairo, we can talk on the way.' He noticed Atkins' worried glance at the TARDIS. 'Don't worry. Like the sarcophagus there,' he gestured to the huge open coffin hewn from a single solid block of stone, 'the TARDIS is too big to fit through the door.'

Atkins nodded. 'We know that the pyramid was built around the casket, Doctor.'

'Was it?' The Doctor grinned. 'And will the same archaeologists who are so sure of that maintain that it was also built around the TARDIS?'

Kamose and Atkins stared at the Doctor. Kamose was the first to speak: 'Are you saying -' he started, but the Doctor waved him to silence.

'They're probably right. Though of course it isn't a sarcophagus. No body was ever found buried inside a pyramid. You will recall that this chamber was empty save for the casket when it was found.'

'Is that to do with pyramid power?' Atkins asked as they left the chamber and started down the corridor outside.

'In a way. The shape of the pyramid is perfect. It's designed to focus power beamed from Osiris and from a relay station on Mars. It's that focusing ability which drew the TARDIS here when I tried to land nearby. She operates on a similar sort of energy.'

They reached a junction in the corridor, and the Doctor waved a finger tentatively at one of the pa.s.sages. 'This way, I think,' he said, setting off down the other one. 'The power to operate the servicers - the mummies - the time travel sarcophagus at the museum, all the Osiran technology in fact, goes through this relay chain.'

'Chain?'

'Yes, the pyramids which are built in the shape of the constellation of Orion.' The Doctor stopped and turned to Atkins, who almost cannoned into him. 'Where did you think the power came from?' he asked abruptly.

Atkins shook his head. 'Can't we shut it off somehow?' he asked. 'Would that help?'

'I don't know what it would do,' the Doctor admitted as he set off again. 'But since that would involve destroying Osiris, which Sutekh has already done, the entire constellation of Orion, which n.o.body would thank us for, Mars, which would throw the solar system off balance in a rather big way, or most of Egypt, I don't think we're about to find out. Do you?'

The full moon shone across the dark rippling water of the swamp. Trees overhung the edges in the distance, framing the scene. Ra.s.sul watched the mummy wading through the water towards him, its bandages tattered, muddied, and riddled with pellet holes. It was carrying the woman across its outstretched arms. The water was up above the mummy's knees, but it continued walking towards Ra.s.sul, seemingly unworried how deep the swamp might be.

The woman flopped like a doll, her long, straight dark hair cascading down from her lolling head and dripping into the water. Her features were cla.s.sical, slightly aquiline. She was slumped as if unconscious, although her eyes were open. Cat's eyes with large pupils.

She was wearing a white night-gown, legs dangling from its white hem. In one hand, the she held a carved statuette of a cobra, gripping it tight. On her wedding finger was a ring inset with a blue stone shaped into a scarab beetle; round her wrist an ornate Egyptian bracelet of gold.

Ra.s.sul waited as the mummy slowly approached. His attention was focused on the woman. He did not see Vanessa, but another woman. A figure from across the millennia.

'But why Mars, Doctor?'

They were in a walkway close to the outer edge of the pyramid. As Atkins spoke, they reached a low window looking out over the desert. It was little more than a small square hole in the side of the structure, allowing the dying sunlight to creep in and wash across the stone floor.

'It's the one planet in the solar system without a magnetic pole. No disruption, so they could gather the energy from a fairly diffuse beam over such a distance. Osiran technology depends on magnetic monopoles, which only work outside the influence of a bipolar magnetic field. Some power keeps the Martian end of things running, like the Eye of Horus and the forcefield generators. The rest they re-focus, and relay to Earth.'

'Which does have magnetic poles?'

The Doctor nodded. He stopped and looked out of the window. 'The pyramids collect the energy beam, then pa.s.s the power on to the dispersal point. That gathers it all up again, boosts it like a transformer, and sends it out to power the mummies, the sarcophagus, and whatever else there is that the Osirans want to keep running.'

Kamose seemed to be following even less of the conversation that Atkins.

'What is this dispersal point?' he asked.

'Another pyramid?' Atkins hazarded.

The Doctor shook his head, and nodded at the window. Atkins and Kamose both crowded closer to see out. The sun was setting slowly, its flames licking round the head of the Sphinx as it fell. They both turned and looked back at the Doctor.

He nodded. 'The line the sun takes as it sinks traces perfectly round the head of the sphinx when viewed from here. What perfect geometry.' He shook his head in admiration, and set off down the corridor once more.

'The Sphinx?' Atkins hastened to catch up.

'It's older than most people think. When it was carved out of the living rock, and I mean living, between eight and ten thousand years ago, the sun would have risen exactly between the Sphinx's feet.'

'But that's older than the pyramids.'

'Of course. The dispersal unit was built and charged up by the Osirans.

Then when they departed, they left strict instructions on how to build the pyramids to supply a constant stream of power. On Mars they either did the building themselves, or found another religiously fanatical people to do it for them. I can think of a couple of candidates.'

'I have heard it said,' Kamose spoke quietly, and they slowed to let him catch up so they could hear, 'that there is a Sphinx on Mars.'

Atkins guffawed loudly. Then stopped suddenly. 'Is that true?'

'Oh yes,' Kamose said seriously. 'But it was an American, from Oregon. I do not know if they can be trusted any more or less than other Americans.'

Atkins frowned. 'I meant, is it true that there is a Sphinx on Mars.'

'Of course,' the Doctor was off again, lengthening his stride. 'That's how the re-focused power gets beamed on to Earth. And both Sphinxes have had their heads reshaped, as it were, to resemble a great local ruler. The original face of the Sphinx was the face of Horus.' He paused at a junction, then continued along the pa.s.sage they were in. 'There's an identical set of pyramids too, though they look like a range of mountains from s.p.a.ce.'

'A great undertaking,' Kamose offered.

'Yes. Ingenious. But not without its problems.'

'Such as?' asked Atkins.

'Well, as the angle of the Earth slowly alters, the alignment moves off. So the power is dissipated over time. Constellations s.h.i.+ft, alignments change, sunrise is in a slightly different position. The sunset is a less perfect match to the Sphinx's shape as the Earth moves and the Sphinx erodes. Also, the Sphinx periodically gets buried, that fogs the focus, so to speak.'

'So it's best to keep it clear of sand?' Atkins asked. 'I see it has been dug out since I last saw it.'

Kamose looked sideways at Atkins, but said nothing.

The Doctor nodded. 'There's something of a fail-safe for that though, I fancy. Remember the story that Thutmose was told by the Sphinx in a dream to dig it out. More than likely that was a pulse of Osiran mental energy focused on someone with the power to make it happen while he was in a particularly receptive position relative to the pyramids and the Sphinx.'

Atkins recalled the legend. 'He was sleeping by the head of the Sphinx, which was buried up to its neck. He rested in its shadow during the heat of the day.' The Doctor stopped again, and this time Atkins did walk into him.

The Doctor spun round, but seemed not to have noticed the collision. 'Of course,' he said, 'I should have realized.'

'What?'

'Napoleon had the Sphinx dug out as well. And just before he gave the orders, he visited this pyramid. According to contemporary reports, he insisted on taking just one trusted captain inside as a guide, and he left him outside the great chamber when he went in. When he came out of the pyramid he was white and shaking with fear.' Atkins struggled to fit this into the facts they already had. 'You think he saw some manifestation of the Sphinx's power?'

The Doctor bit at his lower lip. 'It would be an enormous coincidence if he didn't.' They had reached a corner in the corridor. The Doctor rounded it first. 'Ah,' he said loudly, and they hurried to catch up. The corridor opened out slightly ahead of them, and in the distance, they could see the opening.

An iron gate barred the end of the pa.s.sage, the darkening desert visible beyond.

'Now then,' said the Doctor as they reached the gate, 'we'll just let our good friend here through, then we'll see if we can't find some record of who was behind the expedition.' He pulled a piece of wire from his top pocket, and set to work on the lock. After a few moments, it clicked free, and the gate swung open. The Doctor gestured for Kamose to go first. 'Thank you for all your help,' he said. 'If anything else happens to occur to you, perhaps you could leave a message with whoever mans this gate tomorrow?'

Kamose stood for a moment in the gateway, looking out across the desert as the sun set behind the Sphinx. 'Is the shape of the Sphinx significant in itself, Doctor?' he asked.

The Doctor and Atkins followed his gaze. The Sphinx was back-lit by a glorious crimson glow. 'I don't know,' the Doctor admitted. Probably it's geometrically primed to accept and hold the energy, but it's more complex than the pyramid designs.'

'I remember little of detail about the excavations,' Kamose said quietly, 'except what I have already told you. There was great care taken in the cataloguing and packing, but an unhealthy speed to the excavation work itself. There were accidents, of course. One in particular I remember.'

He turned towards the Doctor and Atkins. They were listening carefully, and Kamose went on: 'The man in charge, the man I think you seek, got careless. He climbed a pile of stones that had been cut from the tomb, I think to see how the work was progressing beyond them. The stones s.h.i.+fted, moved, and he fell.'

'Was he killed?' asked Atkins.

'Oh no. But his leg was trapped and broken in the fall. He refused to take time to have it set, insisted on remaining at the site and continuing to oversee the work. The physician did his best, but he said the Englishman would never fully recover.'

'Englishman?'

'Oh yes, he was English. I told you - the excavations were for the British Museum.' 'And did he recover?'

Kamose shook his head. 'I was reminded of the incident just now. The Englishman bought himself a walking stick from one of the expedition who had worked on it in the evenings, between the s.h.i.+fts. The handle was carved into the shape of the Sphinx.'

London, 1991 The smell of petrol was everywhere. He had to hold the handkerchief tight to his face to keep the fumes out, and still he was coughing. He held the can away from his body, careful not to get the clear viscous liquid on his clothes. He was backing down the stairs, shaking the can as he went, spilling an intermittent stream of fluid over the carpet.

When he reached the bottom, he continued to back round the staircase. He came level with the door, and set down the jerry can. He had checked the floor twice already, but he ducked through the door into the area under stairs once more. The cupboard was dark, but the light from the hallway illuminated the floor. And the fresh cement which concealed and protected the trapdoor beneath.

Satisfied, Aubrey Prior closed the door behind him. They could chip out the cement afterwards, could dig their way back in to the cellar. To the mummy.

He paused in the doorway, looked round the hall for the last time. Then he struck a match, heard the zip of the match-head along the strip of sandpaper, watched the flare of ignition, and tossed the tiny flame into the house. He jumped back, slamming the door before the hall erupted into a ma.s.s of flames.

From his car across the road, Sadan Ra.s.sul watched as Prior ran from the house. Then he lifted the hourgla.s.s from the dashboard, and held it up to the light of the fire as it took hold in the main hallway of Kenilworth House.

The sand trickled almost imperceptibly from the upper bowl of gla.s.s. But Ra.s.sul smiled and nodded. So soon now and it would be finished.

So soon.

The flames licked up the staircase and swirled along the hall driven by the draft from the open windows. In the cellar, the mummy lay calm and still, oblivious to the inferno raging above her.

Chapter Thirteen.

They picked their way over the broken splinters of the front door, and looked round the debris-strewn lounge. Norris immediately slumped into an armchair and sank his head into his hands. Tegan stood over him, hands on hips as she watched Norris rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

After a while, he looked up, his face sagging and his eyes sunken, perhaps from rubbing them, perhaps from the strain of holding back his tears. 'I should have known,' he said quietly. 'It was all too good to last. When I found out about her, I should have known something would happen.'