Chapter 7

"Just what I thought," André sighed, as he entered the rose colored building. Nothing but old people.

The Egyptian Museum had been cut off from visitors, but André flashed a shiny card that pronounced him as André Carriere, International Correspondent for TIME. The man behind the desk gave him a smile and said, "I'm so glad a magazine like TIME is interested in the preservation of History!"

More like the guests that will be attending, he thought to himself.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, André couldn't denounce the beauty of the building in which he entered. He had always been a big believer in "The past is the Past, lets care about what's going on now." But there was something about Egypt that enthraled him and every other person he knew. And it couldn't be more evident in France. From the Louvre to Napoleon, the country obviously had an addiction.

André followed a serious of arrows that were taped on the walls. They led to a large conference room. The people were sparse, but it was still early. He chose his seating carefully, doing his best to find a spot that was the farthest away from the front. When he was satisfied, he leaned back in the chair, and let his chin drop to his chest. Might as well catch up on the sleep that I never get.


Robert threw his hand at the alarm clock, trying to shut it off. It's loud beeping finally stopped as he pushed it off the night stand and onto the floor. Serves it right, he thought.

Langdon slowly got up from the bed, and made his way to the bathroom. As he entered, the sight of his clothes in the mirror was one he didn't want to see. His shirt was twisted and wrinkled around his body, and the once sleek chinos were now rumpled. He did his best to straighten himself up, but then he caught another glimpse of himself in the mirror. He moved closer in hopes that what he saw wasn't true.

"Not there, too," said Langdon aloud, as he picked at the stubble forming on his jaw line. But sure enough, it was there. His once brown stubble was not flooded with grey. When does it end?

From the other room he heard the phone ring, so he, thankfully, pried himself away from the mirror.

"Yes," said Robert, picking up the phone.

"Go day! Roe burt Land hen, yur car ees her," said the familiar voice of a woman. She hung up the phone the second she finished.

"I distinctively heard the word car," Robert told himself. He decided that she must be telling him that the driver that was to take him to the Egyptian Museum had arrived. So, forgetting about his rumpled clothes and stubble, Robert walked out of the door.


"Here," said Venghram, holding out a small box. "Take this."

"What is it?" asked Robert, reaching out to grab the small package. They were standing in the front of the Hotel, waiting for their driver to pull around.

"It is just something that Dr. Hawass asked me to bring for him," said Venghram, he stared out at the plaza. "Could you give it to him, for me?"

"Why, can't you?" said Robert.

"No, I'm not going," Venghram said, in a very frank manner.

"Why not? Isn't that why you cam to Cairo?"

"Yes, but I changed my mind," said Venghram, and he walked away before Robert could ask another question.

He felt relieved he didn't have to share the taxi anymore, but at the same time he was puzzled. He placed the package in his breast pocket. Hopefully it won't explode, he thought, thinking about how much Germans detest Americans.

The drive to The Egyptian Museum was short and fast. After all, The hotel was only a few 'American' blocks away from the museum. Langdon would have just walked, but since Venghram's and his conversation on the plane, he decided against it.

He exited the taxi, and stared at the building that was before him. It was the Egyptian Louvre, minus the glass pyramid. But it didn't need one, because the Nile you had a perfect view of the real thing, Giza.

The beautiful burnt-rose colored building was accented with white and adorned a statue of the famous sphinx at its entrance. Robert opened the door and immediately felt every part of life rush back into him. Yeah, he thought, I am a romantic. It was beautiful, down to every last hieroglyphic. He must of looked stupid, standing there, gazing at the room around him, but it didn't matter.

After a few moments of savoring his surroundings, he walked up to the reception desk and was directed down a hallway. Entering the large conference room, he felt another wave of happiness hit him. Looking around, he had to be the youngest person in the room. Groups of men were standing around chatting, most of them were short and white haired. But then, as soon as it came, it went. In the back row he saw a sandy brown haired man dozing off, who couldn't be more than 35.

Robert decided to take a seat in the spot directly in front of him, wanting to sit in the back so he could take the whole room into view throughout the conference. He looked around some more, recognizing a few face. He saw Dr. Kent Weeks, he was in the middle of a deep conversation with two other men. He was another 'big wig' when it came to Egyptology. And on the other side of the room he saw Kevin Dean, who was a noted historian from Brown University. Robert often saw his picture in magazines, such as Biblical Archaeology Review and Current Archaeology. He was a big advocate for the preservation of historical documents. It made since for him to be here.

He heard a stir behind him and a voice ask, "Excuse me, are you permitted to be here?"

There was a rustle of clothing and a flick of plastic. "Here."

"Ah, TIME magazine. It's good that you are here."

Langdon sat for a moment, his eyes wide open. He needed to move away from this spot, without being seen. He'd had an encounter with a reporter from TIME magazine a few months ago that made him angry still thinking about it.. They'd made him out to be some type of male Britney Spears, following him around like that.

Slowly, Langdon got up, keeping his face turned away from the man behind him. He walked down the back of the large room scanning for seats that were as far away as possible from the reporter. Most had been taken, seeing as it was close to conference time.

"Hello Robert," said a man that Langdon had just passed. He spun around. "That eager to run away from me?"

"Not at all," said Robert, shaking his hand. The man was Mark Lehner, another famous Egyptologist. He was an average American looking man, with salt and pepper hair. His thick black eyebrows touched the top rim of his gold glasses.

"Care to sit together, by any chance?" he asked. "I'd love to get a first hand account of your trip to Paris last spring."

"Sit, yes," said Robert, nodding, and then shaking his head. "Paris, no."

"That's what I figured," said Lehner, laughing slightly. "I'm sure you get that a lot. Why, you've become a regular Indiana Jones, haven't you?"

"Unwelcome, of course," replied Robert, he looked down as they spoke. Although Lehner meant it as just casual conversation, he was sick of the subject.

"Well, I'm sure it's helped your book sales," Lehner continued. "Publicity, good or bad, can have its benefits."

"This is true," said Robert. "And how have your book sales been doing?"

"Who knows? I don't keep up with it to much," said Lehner. They continued walking down the back of the room, and then up the center isle. "I plan to return to Harvard, this coming summer. I've been so caught up with my work in Chicago, I've begun to neglect my work there. This seems like a nice spot."

They took two seats in the fourth row from the front. "Have you met Miss Indiya Becker, Robert?" asked Lehner, leaning back to give him a better view of the woman who sat next to him.

"Robert Langdon," he said, stretching out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"And you," she said, shaking his hand. Robert guessed that she had to be in her mid 30s, but he couldn't be entirely sure. She had curly brown hair that went down to her elbows, and large facial features that were accentuated with a set of grey eyes. Typical American smart-girl, Langdon thought.

"She is going to be the next great one I predict," said Lehner. "Despite her CNN appeal."

"I had to look professional," she said, pulling at her brown suit jacket, which matched her knee length skirt.

"Are you an Egyptologist, as well?" Robert asked.

"Yes," she replied. "But I wont be a great one. All the wonderful work has been done already, leaving me to just right more books about it." She flashed an admiring smile at Lehner.

"Don't flatter me," Lehner said. "I'm just doing the same thing you will. Collecting the past."

The room began to quiet down as the time for Dr. Hawass' lecture arrived. Robert scanned the front of the room, looking for him, but he didn't spot him. It wasn't like him to be late, especially for a thing like this.

"Maybe he locked himself in a tomb?" remarked a man in front of them.

"Sad thing is, he's done that before," added Lehner. "Countless times. Although I'm sure he doesn't mind. Come to think of it, I don't think any of us would."

"I spoke with him this morning," said Robert. "We were suppose to meet for breakfast, but he canceled."

"It's not like him to cancel," said Lehner. "Or be late."

The silence that developed was deafening. You could have heard a pen drop. Five minutes late soon turned into 12 minutes. Something was definitely wrong, but Langdon couldn't imagine what. He remembered talking to Dr. Hawass this morning, and how he was to meet a man from the British Museum. He couldn't have gotten that engrossed in conversation that he forgotten about his own conference. And then...

An aged man walked up to the podium in the front of the room. He looked relatively calm, being in front of such a crowd. He began to talk, "It's wonderful to see so many of you here, and so many interested in the topic we were supposed to discuss today."

Supposed to? Langdon thought to himself.

"Unfortunately," the man continued. "I will have to cancel this conference, due to unforseen circumstances. But, I ask that you to not move from you seats just yet."

The room full of disappointed historians began to whisper.

"Uh no," said Lehner, jokingly. "What did Zahi do this time?"

"I told you, he locked himself in a tomb," said the same man in front of him.

At that moment, the back doors opened, emerging from it were two officers from the Egyptian Police Authority. They walked down the center isle, past Langdon, and up to the man who had just addressed them. One of the men whispered into his ear for a brief second, and then they walked back down the isle.

The man who had addressed them turned to the podium again. He gave a sigh and then spoke, "I'm sorry, but I must inform you that you will not be leaving us right away. I have been asked to keep you in the Museum until further notice. It appears that our Dr. Hawass has gone missing, momentarily.

"Missing?"Lehner said aloud, breaking the silence.

This is a joke, right? Langdon thought to himself. He couldn't possibly...be missing? The last thing Langdon needed was more missing people around him. Was there seriously some kind of conspiracy following him everywhere he went?

That last question seemed to confirm itself, as the same man walked up to the podium for a third time.

"If Kevin Dean and Dr. Kent Weeks are present in this room, I need them to stand up at this moment," he said. The room went silent, and heads turned in all directions. No one stood from their seat.

And so, the day unfolded...