Ben looked at it for a moment, then slid the beer mat back towards Kirby. ‘If this is so genuine, why aren’t Egyptologists the world over talking about it?’

Kirby let out a derisive snort. ‘Because our esteemed peers are a bunch of closed-minded arseholes. According to a panel of eminent professors, our research was speculative, unscholarly, nonsensical; and to resurrect the old myth of the heretic’s lost treasure would have done our careers about as much good as writing papers on astrology.’

‘Maybe they were right.’

Kirby took another slurp of Scotch. ‘Oh, yeah? These are the same kind of pricks who said Imhotep was a myth, until 1926 when a chance discovery proved them wrong and caused a lot of red faces. So Morgan and I thought, stuff ’em. They deserve to be humiliated. And they will be. I guarantee it.’

‘So you’re saying the letter indicates where the treasure is?’ Ben asked. ‘Simple as that?’

Kirby shook his head. ‘I’m afraid nothing’s ever that simple. Morgan and I reckoned that the old man was concerned it might be too easily intercepted en route. If he’d just given a location-X marks the spot-anyone could have found it. Wenkaura was cautious. And very smart. He’d seen the whole thing coming years before, and in the letter he tells how, before he’d fled Egypt, he’d devised a series of clues, sitting right under the noses of Akhenaten’s agents, that could point the way to where the vast bulk of the treasure was hidden.’ Kirby leaned back in his chair and smiled.

‘You know these clues?’

Kirby’s smile dropped. ‘Not quite. The way it works is that the first clue is in the papyrus. That leads you to a second clue, then the second leads to a third, and so on. All we had was a cryptic reference in Wenkaura’s letter, giving the specific location of the second clue.’

‘Which is what?’

‘The tomb of “He who is close to Re”,’ Kirby said.

‘That doesn’t sound very specific at all,’ Ben replied. ‘Since Re was one of their chief gods, I imagine quite a few people would have thought themselves close to him. You could be working your way through half the tombs in Egypt before finding anything.’

‘Exactly. And that’s what Morgan was working on in Cairo.’

‘And he found out what it meant?’

‘He found out something, that’s for sure.’ Kirby paused, sighed. ‘Problem is, I don’t know what. While he was out there I came home one day to find a phone message from him. He sounded all excited, saying he’d figured out the first clue, that it had led him to the second clue like clockwork, and he was going somewhere the next day that he was sure was going to offer up the next. I was supposed to call him back, but his phone was switched off. And that was the last time I ever heard from him. Next thing I knew, he was dead, and all his research notes were stolen. If he got round to updating his notes, we’ll never know. They’re gone.’

‘Maybe not.’ Ben dug in his pocket, took out the little blue memory stick and laid it on the table. ‘Morgan’s notes, taken straight from his laptop.’

Kirby snatched it up. ‘How the hell did you get hold of this? On second thoughts, don’t tell me.’ He held the memory stick in front of him, gazing at it. ‘What I wouldn’t give to see what’s in here.’

‘You’re not the only one. The bad guys have it too.’

‘But they’d never get into it,’ Kirby smirked. ‘Not a chance in hell. The most fiendishly crack-proof encryption ever known. Morgan’s and my secret.’

‘We need computer access,’ Ben said. ‘We can’t go back to the house.’

‘But we could drive to my office.’

Ben looked at his watch. They’d been sitting in the pub for over an hour, and night had fallen. ‘Then let’s go. Right now.’

Back in St Andrews, Ben parked the Mercedes under the amber glow of a street lamp and followed Kirby to the iron gates of the Faculty of History building. They were locked.

‘It’s OK,’ Kirby said. ‘We all have a key, in case we need to come back to the office after hours.’ He unlocked a creaky side gate and they walked across the dark, empty car park to the entrance. Ben glanced up and down the street as Kirby opened the door. There was nobody around. Inside, Kirby was about to turn on the lights when Ben stopped his hand. ‘Keep the place dark,’ he said.

They climbed the stairs by the moonlight that shone from the windows, and Ben led the way through the shadowy corridor to Kirby’s room.

Ben drew down the blinds in the dark office as Kirby fired up the laptop on his desk and fumbled blindly to insert the memory stick. After a few moments the screen lit up, casting a bluish glow over his face in the darkness. ‘Hardware recognised. OK, here we go.’ He clicked the mouse, tapped a few keys. ‘Now for the password. Calypso Jennings.’

‘Calypso Jennings?’

Kirby glanced up. ‘She was a junior lecturer in ancient Greek, when Morgan and I were undergrads together at Durham. Hottest academic you’ve ever seen. We were both nuts about her. She seemed the obvious choice of password. Like I said, the most crack-proof encryption known to man.’

Ben watched as Kirby’s podgy fingers scuttled quickly over the keys, typing in the password. The file unlocked instantly, and they were in.

‘Here we go, the Akhenaten Project research file,’ Kirby said proudly. He held down a key and scrolled down through the document, text skimming across the screen faster than Ben could read it. ‘Nothing new here so far,’ Kirby muttered. ‘This is all stuff we already know.’ He took his finger off the key and an image froze on the screen. Ben peered at it. It looked like some ancient document, covered in old script that meant nothing to him.

‘This is a high-resolution scan of the Wenkaura papyrus,’ Kirby said. ‘You can see how aged some of the inscriptions are. We had a hell of a time deciphering it.’ He gazed at it for a moment longer, and went on scrolling down, staring hard at the screen.

Ben moved away from the desk, parted the blinds with his fingers and glanced cautiously out of the window. The street below was deserted.

Kirby clicked his tongue, shook his head. ‘All this stuff is exactly what I already have. There’s nothing new. What I want is to see if Morgan added anything at the bottom. That last entry could be-’

He broke off mid-sentence, craned his neck forward. ‘Oh, shit.’

‘What?’ Ben asked, stepping back to the desk.

‘I don’t fucking believe it.’

‘What?’

Kirby looked up from the screen. ‘Sahure,’ he breathed. ‘Sahure. Of course. What an idiot I was, not to get that.’

‘Sahure?’ Ben echoed.

‘So you didn’t learn about him in Bible class?’

‘Theology. And no, I didn’t.’

Kirby was giggling to himself, clenching his fist in triumph. ‘Morgan, you were a frigging genius.’

‘Are you going to explain this to me, or do I have to beat it out of you?’ Ben resisted the urge to grab Kirby’s throat and drag him across the desk.

Kirby stopped giggling, and looked serious. He tapped the screen. ‘Look here. The final entry, right at the bottom. Morgan worked it out. It’s the first clue.’ He smirked.

‘Explain.’

‘You remember that the clue was the tomb of “He who is close to Re”?’ Kirby said. ‘Well, get this. “He who is close to Re” is the literal meaning of the ancient Egyptian name, Sahure. And Sahure was the second ruler of Egypt’s Fifth Dynasty. He reigned from 2487 to 2475 BC and is buried at the pyramid complex at Abusir, just south of Cairo on the edge of the desert. Which means we know for sure that’s where Morgan found the second clue.’

‘Do we?’

Kirby’s eyes twinkled. ‘Absolutely.’ He prodded the screen enthusiastically. ‘And it gets even better two lines lower down. Morgan’s added to his notes that he also found out that Sahure was a distant ancestor of Wenkaura. And the High Priest Sanep, to whom the papyrus was intended to be delivered, would have known that about his former master. He would have picked up on the clue right away. See how perfect it is? There’s no doubt whatsoever that we’re on the right track.’