The Murder of King Tut by James Patterson, Martin Dugard Read Free Book Online Page B

incite Davis to purchase a concession.
    To Carter’s delight, he did just that.

Chapter 21
Valley of the Kings
    1901
    HUNDREDS OF BATS FLEW LOW to the sand, fully sated after a night of foraging and eager to sleep. They skimmed over the Valley
     of the Kings, then banked hard to the left, finally whooshing down into the tomb where Howard Carter lay resting peacefully.
    Echolocations guided them through the hieroglyph-covered hallways, then the bats burst as one into the main chamber and roosted
     on the ceiling, just feet above Carter’s cot.
    The adventurer barely stirred. Carter now had a home near the river, complete with an enclosed garden and a small menagerie
     of animals that included a horse named Sultan; a donkey, San Toy, who wandered freely through the house; and two gazelles.
    But his home in Medinet Habu was miles from the valley and his work, so Carter often slept inside the tombs.
    He had ceased worrying about the bats long ago and was slightly comforted by their presence. They were “strange spirits of
     the ancient dead,” to his way of thinking.
    The bats’ arrival also meant sunrise, and sunrise meant another day full of the promise of discovery.
    Suddenly, bare feet could be heard sprinting down the tomb’s entry corridor. Carter recognized the anguished voice of a young
     Egyptian digger whose name he couldn’t immediately remember. In part, this was because Carter wasn’t a friendly man. He didn’t
     socialize with staff or anyone else, except for the occasional female tourist.
    “Inspector? Are you in there?” the young man yelled in Arabic. “
Sir? Sir?
”
    “What is it?” Carter sat bolt upright and reached for his lightweight trousers.
    “Come quickly, sir. There’s been a break-in. Someone came during the night!”

Chapter 22
Valley of the Kings
    1901
    CARTER WAS STUNNED. He’d done his job so well, so painstakingly as inspector in chief that not a single tomb had been robbed
     in the Thebes area since he’d taken charge. Not one.
    What had happened? Thieves in the night? Who? How?
    Carter dressed in seconds and ran for the door. In the pale predawn light he picked his way across the rocks and scree of
     the wadi.
    The path soon became wide and smooth and then led into a flight of steps that climbed steeply upward before dead-ending against
     a cliff face.
    A doorway had been carved into the rock, marking the entrance. Carter had recently installed an iron gate across the opening
     to keep thieves out of KV 35, as the tomb of Amenhotep II was officially known.
    But now that impenetrable barrier swung uselessly on its hinges. “How could this have happened?” muttered Carter. Then he
     called to the digger. “Bring men to guard the door.
I’m going inside! Hurry!
”
    Back in Cairo, small fortunes were being made from tomb artifacts, with tourists and collectors quickly snapping up anything
     and everything tomb robbers put on the market. Catching a gang of these soulless thieves red-handed would be quite a coup
     for Carter.
    He lit a cigarette and paced until the reinforcements arrived. Amenhotep II was the grandfather of Amenhotep the Magnificent,
     and the great-grandfather of Akhenaten, whose queen was the alluring Nefertiti.
    Carter entered the tomb slowly, cautiously. As he did, silence washed over him. The first steps into a tomb were always like
     that—a reminder that he was leaving the world of the living and entering a place meant for only the dead. Sometimes he felt
     like he was trespassing and supposed that he was.
    There were nine chambers in the tomb, each connected by a narrow hallway with a ceiling so low that Carter had to duck his
     head almost to his waist to pass through. He flicked on the light switch and waited for his eyes to adjust to the pale artificial
     glow.
    Then he listened for the distant scurry of an intruder. But he heard just himself as he walked farther into the rocky tomb.
    Stairs led down to a sharp left turn at what he liked to call