Our current author is keeping an eye on Sarah for us - as it turns out she's not taken to the local cuisine well, and our friend was concerned that either the Brotherhood might attack Sarah in her weakened state or she would need assistance. We gave them the protective amulet we found on Najir's body, just in case. She should be fine in by tomorrow, but all the same none of us were comfortable leaving her alone while we chased down one more lead - Warren Besart. He knew something we didn't, and we weren't about to let the Brotherhood's thugs get to him first. There was just one small problem. We hadn't the foggiest where Besart was, and Cairo is a big city. He could have been hiding absolutely anywhere. Clayton suggested getting in contact with Nigel Wassif, the man we suspected must have been some sort of government agent, and we all agreed over breakfast that this was a good plan to begin with. Besides, he did say we could ask for a favour from him at any time...
One tram ride later, we arrived at the government consulate office and Clayton soon got us in touch with Wassif. He was a tall man, of ambiguous Arabic and possibly European descent, dark-haired and rather handsome if you want my opinion. Not that I've the time for such frivolities when we have a lost man to find. Wassif quickly managed to pull the files on Besart's whereabouts when we asked him, though he found our reasoning for speaking with him a bit questionable. Then again, I suppose most of our actions here in Cairo have been questionable, haven't they? Never the less, he gave us the address in the Street of Scorpions, a building with a Red Door. We gathered Mah'muhd from the mosque of Ibn Tulun, where he had returned to his begging ways outside the place of worship (poor lad, it must be all he knows), and offered him plenty of money for his help one last time - enough for him to live comfortably by Cairo's standards, or at least to begin a better life for himself. He of course agreed, having never seen so much money in his life, and besides... he seems to have grown attached to us. I am going to miss the lad when we leave Cairo, and I do hope Zehavi and his men will help Mah'muhd grow up to lead a better life.
Mah'muhd was swift in leading us to the Red Door at the Street of Scorpions, and insisted upon waiting outside as we entered. Inside, there was a merchant, a rug-seller by trade, who at first balked when Besart was mentioned. However, a little intimidation on Ewan and Ted's part changed his mind, despite being a rather brute force solution, and the merchant relented, admitting that yes, Besart did live here, though he was often out of it. We could all smell why, particularly Ewan - the rank scent of hashish smoke hung in the air like a foul cloud and stung our eyes. It only intensified as we pushed aside a thick carpet hanging as a door covering, and entered the small, filthy room behind it. And there, lying on a mattress stained with God only knows what sort of grime, his hair and teeth destroyed by his addictive habit, and his eyes glazed over in either madness or the effects of the drug in his pipe, was Warren Besart.
He barely understood us as we walked in, continuously batting at things that weren't there and staring blankly at the walls, and we all quickly realized he was likely smoking something much stronger than just hashish. Nevertheless, we knew we had our man when he began murmuring that a "Black-eyed Pharaoh Man" was in the room watching him, his eyes darting fearfully about. All that was left was to wait for his high to die down so we could actually speak with him. Besart proved just as difficult to comprehend when somewhat sober as he did when high, though at least he was able to focus on us. We asked for his story, and he at first wouldn't say a word... until I noticed Ewan pull a cube-shaped object in a bag and mention he'd give it to Besart if he agreed to tell us his story. We very quickly realized it was a poor-grade opium that Ewan had, though how he got it we're not sure. It was only then that Besart finally falteringly told us, in a way that seemed only half-lucid, what had happened.
From what we could gather, he had been asked by a lawyer to help a wealthy American named Roger Carlyle acquire certain artifacts from Faraz Najir's shop and then ship them to a British man named Sir Aubrey Penhew. He didn't know the significance of the items, but did have to smuggle them illegally, as they were apparently ancient. He didn't hear from them again until the Carlyle Expedition came to Egypt and began digging near Dhashur, close to the Bent Pyramid. Then one night, Jack Brady had come to him in a panic, insisting that the rest of the Expedition had vanished in the middle of the night. Brady thought they'd been murdered, since so many of the hired crew had also vanished, but had no idea what to do about it. Apparently the others returned the next morning, but seemed... changed somehow, and not for the better. Besart was nervous around them, but thought little of it at the time. The morning after, an elderly woman named Nyiti el-Wasta came to him, and said her son had been one of the diggers in the expedition. She said something evil had done something to the Carlyle Expedition, all save Brady and himself, and that if he wanted proof of it, he should visit the dig site on the dark of the moon. She said something bad would happen, and she begged for him to stop it. Besart went.
It's at this point Besart's statement became rather fuzzy due to either the damage his drug habit had done to his brain or to potential madness, but I will try to approximate what was said to the best of my ability. He arrived that night, and observed some sort of terrible ceremony that Carlyle and the others were doing with men in black robes that had clubs - horrible sacrificial rites of some dark sort or another. He claims that some sort of creatures came from the sands and killed all save the Europeans and one other robed participant, then that something with five heads came alive and swallowed all the torn bodies in the sand. He apparently at some point passed out, and wandered off into the desert, half-mad. He claims he saw dark sphinxes in the sand one morning and passed out again, but I am more than positive the poor man was suffering from a heatstroke-induced mirage instead. After that, he came to in this house - a man named Abdhul had saved him, the merchant out front. However, then Besart began having nightmares, and soon found the only cure for the problem was hashish, or opium if he could find it.
After his story, Besart then begged for the drug Ewan had shown him, but the Scot wasn't stupid and asked for directions to where the woman he mentioned lived. Besart whined, but conceded to tell us that Nyiti el-Wasta lived in a small village about three miles up the Nile, and after that Ewan gave the wretch his next supply, rendering Besart useless once more and sending us back on the trail again. Unfortunately, at that moment, Ted started to complain of a headache, and then seemed to go blank for a moment. Ewan quickly recognized it as a seizure, but after a few seconds Ted seemed alright. His condition is not getting better, and we're all getting worried. If it continues happening, Ted may need to go home. He certainly cannot be traveling the world if he is unable to take care of himself, not with such severe brain damage. He's disappointed, of course, but we all agree he should be sent home on the next boat to the States. It's better for him, and for us, if he does.
When we returned outside to Mah'muhd, he proved greatly helpful in acquiring a means of traveling the river for us, and begged us to let him stay with the group. Well, none of us could find the heart to leave the poor child alone, and we had grown rather fond of the lad, so we agreed. It wasn't as if our next endeavour would be too dangerous, and besides, he was probably safer from the Brotherhood with us than he would be alone or at the Mosque. Even with a Cairo native and someone speaking fluent Arabic in our team, finding the home of Nyiti el-Wasta took several hours of frustrated searching... until we settled on a simple hovel on the far outskirts of the village, and approached. There was a man sitting outside, his face and shoulder severely gouged and scarred, and he almost flinched as we approached... until we sent Mah'muhd to speak with him. The man relaxed, and motioned us to come inside. We'd found our target.
All was motionless for a minute, and the hovel was small. A pot of some sort of lamb stew simmered over an open flame, and in the middle of one corner sat a small bundle of rags that at first almost seemed like nothing. Then the bundle moved, and as one slipped away, we first saw a pair of rheumy eyes peer at us from between the blankets. Then the tatterdemalion's eyes lit up, despite being almost unseeing, and the figure sat up, and we saw why the woman - Nyiti, for it had to be - was huddled down so. Her entire lower jaw had been stripped to nothing, and not even her tongue remained. The extent of this poor woman's injuries were truly shocking to see; Mah'muhd was frightened and hid behind us despite repeated assurances that she was harmless. Unable to speak, Nyiti pointed frantically, gurgling, to a basket in the corner... and in that basket, we found something very strange indeed.
It was then Clayton mentioned something very interesting - the Red Pyramid at Dhashur was made of a very similar limestone to this, and so named because at one time the entire facade of the pyramid would have had the same red color as the symbol. Due to time, wind erosion, and sun bleaching, the pyramid had faded to a milky white color. And not too far from the Red Pyramid was the Bent Pyramid and Collapsed Pyramid, which Besart had mentioned before. Clearly, something had happened there - something involving this bizarre symbol - and we needed to find out what it was.
We are currently resting up in preparation for tomorrow's excursion. Besides our investigations, I think that a trip to see some of Egypt's archaeological wonders may do everyone some good. Sarah and Ted seem to be doing alright, although I question if Ted's mind is physically sound enough to continue. At the very least, I would want him to see Egypt's historical landmarks before leaving. It seems the perfect final hurrah for a man so devoted to helping us get this far, and so stubborn about staying with us in the thick of how dark things have become lately. Injured or not, we all certainly would be remiss if we did not at least travel to see the Bent Pyramid and its siblings!
-- Bridget Atwater, Antiquarian (April 3, 1928)