ch-25 Tutankhamun Uncovered

It was Lacau himself, on one of his duty visits to the museum, who noticed the odour first. To a shooting man it was unmistakable. He felt the chill of fear. “Cordite! Gun powder! From somewhere through there, I think. Quickly everyone!”

He called to the museum guards standing in the mummy room. “Follow me!”

The group dashed to the door at the rear of the hall and disappeared into the room beyond. Lacau stopped and sniffed about him. He could still smell it but the odour was fading and he couldn’t detect where it was coming from.

Then one of the guards excitedly shouted, “There, sir! Smoke! From under the storeroom door.”

They dashed to the double doors and threw them open. A great ball of acrid smoke belched over them and almost immediately there was a brilliant flash of red as the smouldering rags, refreshed with the breeze from outside,burst into flame. Within seconds the flames were on the sides of the packing cases stacked two high all over the floor. Fanned by the draught, they quickly took hold, clawing at the dry wood, the glowing embers leaping from case to case until the entire room became an impenetrable inferno.

Lacau and his men, pulling off their jackets, attempted to beat down the flames, but soon they were beaten back themselves. The heat was unbearable. As the temperature built inside one of the wooden crates, and before the flames tearing at their outer sides had seared through the heavy planking, the piece of golden furniture inside that had patiently tolerated the drying process of three thousand years literally exploded into fire, the gold plate and gilding quickly breaking away and turning swiftly to the consistency of treacle. The gold dribbled to the ground. The inlaid faience floated in the liquid gold and dropped, as if in slow motion, drop by drop, piece by piece onto the ashes beneath.

As the woods crackled and split all about them, Lacau thought he heard a scream, then laughter. In the excitement and panic of the moment he must have been mistaken.

The Cairo fire department managed to safeguard the public part of the museum, but the stores, where the fire had been started, were almost totally destroyed, their contents rendered unsalvageable.

That afternoon, the Director sat in his office composing a telegram to Howard Carter. He had no idea how he was going to break this news. The responsibility for the accident was deeply personal. But, regardless of his embarrassment, if he did not get on with it quickly the news, already heating up the wires to Europe and Luxor, would reach Carter before Lacau’s telegram. That would be quite unacceptable and the consequences unthinkable.

For H Carter STOP Most urgent STOP Regret to
inform you T articles so far received in
Cairo destroyed today by fire STOP Holocaust
STOP Nothing survived STOP Deeply sorry…”

Lacau put his pencil down for a moment. Such a cold message for so crippling an event. But why search for sensitivity in a telegram? He fumbled for the pencil again and continued…

…for all our sakes STOP Me to Luxor
tomorrow STOP Much to discuss STOP Lacau

He hastily rubbed out ‘Lacau’ and wrote, ‘Pierre’.

“Mustafah! Take this to the telegraph office immediately – and hurry!” No sooner had his fellah gone than there was a rapid knock at the door to his office.

“What is it?” Lacau shouted with irritation. He desperately needed some time to himself.

It was a messenger with a telegram.

Lacau visibly blanched as he took the envelope. ‘He couldn’t know already, surely not?

He tore it open, pulled out the yellow paper and unfolded it. The telegram read:

For Director Lacau STOP Luxor – Cairo
train derailed in desert west bank between
Asyut and Manfalut STOP Some loss of life
STOP Explosion and fire STOP Tutankhamun
antiquities losses unestimated but
significant STOP Please come STOP

It was unsigned.

Lacau screwed the paper up in his fist and fell back into his chair. He stared at the ceiling. This can’t be happening to me. If Carter sent this, ‘what is he going to feel when he receives my news?’

The thought was too obscene to contemplate. He turned in his chair and looked out of his window at the teeming populace in the busy street below. Would he were one of them right now.

top of page