I did not know what to say. Perhaps it is against the law to throw papyrus on the street. I said nothing and waited for my punishment.

  “You are quite good at drawing pictures, Lateef,” he said.

  I exhaled. Perhaps I would not be punished after all.

  “Thank you.”

  “The pharaoh wants you to make some drawings,” he told me.

  I could not believe my ears. Drawings for the pharaoh? Me?

  “What kind of drawings?” I asked.

  “The pharaoh wants you to draw the hieroglyphs that will be carved into the obelisk.”

  Hieroglyphs are the pictures that are used to turn our thoughts into writing. I cannot believe my good fortune. Of all the citizens of Heliopolis, I have been chosen to draw the hieroglyphs that will be inscribed on the four sides of the obelisk! Why me? I do not know. Perhaps it is hard to find people who are good at drawing pictures.

  When I returned home, my mother took hold of me and would not let go. She was so relieved that I was alive. When I told her the good news, she did not believe me at first. But finally I was able to convince her. She even said that she would get me more papyrus to draw on.

  “Maybe now you will stop throwing my drawings out the window,” I told her.

  “If I had not thrown your drawings out the window,” she replied, “the pharaoh would never have noticed your ability to make pictures.”

  True, I suppose.

  DAY 9

  The next day that man Omari came to our door again. This time my mother did not cry. Omari told me he had come to explain what I will need to draw.

  “The obelisk is not just a tribute to the sun, Ra,” he told me. “It is also a tribute to the pharaoh. Thutmosis III is the son of the sun. The obelisk will be a monument proclaiming the glory of his conquests and a testament to his accomplishments.”

  He told me exactly what the pharaoh wished me to say with my pictures, not that I had any idea what it meant....

  The Horus, Strong-Bull-Appearing-In-Thebes, he of the Two La Goddesses, Enduring-of-kingship-like-Ra-in-heaven, Bodily son of Atum, whom the Mistress of Heliopolis bore to him, Thutmosis, whom they created in the temple in the beauty of their members, knowing that he would exercise enduring kingship throughout eternity, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Men-kheper-ra, beloved of Atum, the great god, together with his Enneat, granted all life, stability, and dominion like Ra for ever.

  There is more, but that is the general idea. I can draw the words, but still don’t understand what they mean.

  “Get to work, Lateef,” Omari ordered me before leaving.

  DAY 10

  This is a big job that will require many drawings. I will work very hard to make sure my pictures match the meaning of the words the pharaoh wishes to convey.

  Do you like my new drawing? It took me many hours to complete. These are some of the elements I will be using for the inscriptions on the sides of the obelisk. I am so excited to think that my pictures will be given to the stone carvers and they will carve them into the obelisk.

  We use hieroglyphs to turn words into pictures.

  DAY 15

  I have completed half the drawings required. Every day I go to the Temple of the Sun to deliver new pictures to Omari and then watch the sculptors carving them into the obelisk. I can see it is easier for them to do their job when the obelisk is lying on its side than if they were to do it after it is standing up. But they will have to wait to do the final side, because that side is lying face down.

  It is going to be beautiful when the carving is done. People are already coming from all over Egypt to look at the obelisk. The sculptors are working very hard. They know that if they make one small mistake, they will be flogged.

  DAY 16

  When I was at the Temple of the Sun today, I saw something unusual. Hundreds of workers were outside the temple digging with shovels. Surely they are not planning to place the obelisk underground. That is where it came from in the first place.

  I watched as they dug up dirt and sand, then carried it and piled it up to make a hill next to the bottom part of the obelisk. Very strange.

  DAY 17

  Omari told me why the workers are building the giant sand hill. They are going to use that hill to help stand up the obelisk. I do not understand how they are going to do that, but Omari says it will all become clear.

  DAY 20

  My obelisk drawings are finished. I am very proud of my work. After I delivered each drawing to Omari, he gave his approval. Sometimes he would ask me to make a small change in the drawing, which I did. The stone carvers work very fast. Soon they will be finished with their carvings and the obelisk will be raised.

  DAY 25

  Big news! The pharaoh Thutmosis III has arrived! He has come here to witness the raising of his obelisk. I have heard that the pharaoh has even brought one of his sons with him. Tomorrow will be the big ceremony.

  DAY 26

  All the citizens of Heliopolis came out to see the pharaoh and his young son, who looks like he is no more than four years old. I waited a long time until the two of them finally paraded through the main square. The pharaoh wore brightly colored robes. He looks very different from the way he looks in my drawing. I was expecting a tall, godlike creature, not even human. But he looks much like a regular man. I will draw him again.

  Today is the big day and a very joyous occasion for all of Heliopolis. We are going to stand up the obelisk near the Temple of the Sun. Omari instructed me to bring papyrus and draw pictures so future generations of Egyptians will see how it was done. I will do as he says, but I still refuse to believe we will be successful. It looks like an impossible job. The obelisk is too large and heavy to stand up.

  It appears that every able-bodied man in the surrounding area has been summoned to the Temple of the Sun.

  Thick ropes have been attached to all sides of the obelisk.

  The men have been gathered at the top of the sand hill. Pharaoh was hoisted up so he could stand on the obelisk. All of our eyes were on him.

  “Pull!” the pharaoh shouted. “Pull!”

  While the men pulled on the ropes with all their might, I drew a picture....

  Hundreds of men pulled Cleopatra’s Needle up the sand hill.

  I could see their glistening sweat and hear their groans as they strained at the ropes. Very slowly, the sled that the obelisk lay upon began to slide up the slope of the hill. When the bottom of the obelisk reached the top of the hill, the men were ordered to stop pulling. Each of them was then given a shovel.

  “Now dig!” shouted the pharaoh.

  The men dug their shovels into the sand and dirt around the bottom of the obelisk. And slowly, almost by magic it seemed, the bottom of the obelisk began to sink into the sand as the top of the obelisk tilted upward.

  “Keep digging!” shouted the pharaoh as the obelisk continued to tilt upward. They were digging a hole in the top of the hill for the bottom of the obelisk to gently slide into.

  When the obelisk was somewhat tilted, the men were told to stop digging. They were then divided into five large groups. Four of the groups were moved to the side near the bottom part of the obelisk. One of the groups was positioned on the side close to the top of the obelisk. The pharaoh was helped down from the obelisk.

  He is a very smart man. Upon his order, workers brought his young son to the top of the obelisk and tied him to it with ropes. I asked a woman next to me why they were doing this. She told me that tying the pharaoh’s son to the obelisk will ensure that the workers will be very careful when they pull it to its upright position. If they make a mistake and the obelisk topples over, it will break and the pharaoh’s son will die.

  That would be very sad. But the woman next to me said that it would not be too sad, because the pharaoh has one hundred sons.

  Each of the five groups of men was ordered to take hold of a thick rope coming off the obelisk. Four of the groups were told they would pull the obelisk until it was upright. The other group was told to hold their rope tightly to make sure the obelisk did not get pulled too far upright and topple over.

  “Go!” the pharaoh shouted.

  The pharaoh’s son is very brave. He only screamed and cried a little. I suppose he is used to helping his father in this way.

  As the men pulled and strained at the ropes, I drew this picture....

  They dug a hole at the top of the hill for the obelisk to slide into.

  I could not believe my eyes. The strength of hundreds of men—motivated by the pharaoh and the fear of killing his son—was somehow overcoming the weight of the obelisk. It was tilting upward.

  “More!” the pharaoh shouted. “Harder!”

  The obelisk continued tilting upward. When it was standing fully upright on its flat base, the men were ordered to stop pulling on the ropes. There were deafening cheers and congratulations from the people all around. The obelisk, for the first time, stood up on its own.

  Somebody yelled, “It looks like a needle pointing up to the sun!”

  DAY 27

  After the obelisk was successfully raised, the workers were given shovels again and ordered to remove the dirt and sand that had been used to stand it up. Then they leveled the ground so you would never even know the hill had been there.

  We went home and had a feast. My aunts and uncles and cousins were congratulating me on the drawings I made for the sides of the obelisk. Mother said that even though drawing pictures is not something one can do to earn a living, she is very proud of me. I was happy.

  We had almost finished our meal when there was a knock at the door. It was Omari.

  “Before he returns to Cairo,” he told me, “the pharaoh wishes to meet you.”

  “Me?” I asked, disbelieving. “The pharaoh wants to meet me? There must be some mistake.”

  “We do not make mistakes. The pharaoh wishes to meet you, right away. Come with me, Lateef.”

  This time my mother did not fall to her knees. She beamed with pride.

  “What will I say to the pharaoh?” I asked Omari as he led me through the busy streets. “I am afraid.”

  “You will say nothing,” he replied. “You will listen.”

  Omari brought me to the grand palace in the center of the town. He led me inside, through huge golden doors. I had never been in the palace before. Only the wealthy and powerful are permitted inside. It is a beautiful place, with tiled floors, fine curtains, and heroic statues everywhere.

  I was led into a room. And there, sitting before me on a gigantic throne, was the great Thutmosis III.

  I could not believe I was in the same room as the pharaoh. I trembled in his presence and fell to my knees.

  “The son of Ra, the son of the sun,” I blubbered uncontrollably, “the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, the powerful and glorious—”

  “Quiet!” spoke the pharaoh. “Stand up, Lateef.”

  I stopped blubbering and stood up. My name had passed through the pharaoh’s lips.

  “I have been informed that you are the artist who drew the hieroglyphs for the sides of my obelisk,” spoke the pharaoh.

  I could not move my mouth. I could only nod my head. Perhaps he did not like my work. Perhaps I was to be executed.

  “You are a talented young man, Lateef,” the pharaoh told me. He placed one hand on my shoulder. I almost fainted.

  “Continue to work and improve your drawing,” the pharaoh continued. “Someday when you grow up, you will come to Cairo and become my personal artist.”

  DAY 31

  I still cannot believe it all happened. Every day I walk past the obelisk and gaze upon it, standing so tall and proud in front of the Temple of the Sun.

  It seems a miracle that this glorious monument to the pharaoh was carved out of raw granite that was once buried in the ground at Aswan. It seems a miracle that the strong men of Heliopolis were able to raise it up to point at the sun, Ra. And it seems a miracle that my drawings are now carved into the four sides of the obelisk.

  Now the memory of Thutmosis III will live forever. My drawings will live forever. And the obelisk will stand proudly in Heliopolis for eternity.

  Meanwhile, in the present day...

  Man, I bet my mom made that whole story up. How would she know how they stood the obelisk up in ancient Egypt? And how would she know that some kid drew the pictures that were carved into it? I really doubt the Egyptians wrote any of that stuff down.

  “I thought those hieroglyphics were some kind of secret wise sayings,” I said as I gazed at the faded symbols on the obelisk.

  “You thought wrong,” Mom replied as she got up from the bench. “They were just the pharaoh bragging about himself. Well, it’s getting late. I guess we should start heading home.”

  “Before we go,” I said, “one quick question. They didn’t have trucks and cranes and stuff like that in ancient Egypt. If this thing weighs over two hundred tons, how did it get to America?”

  “Oh, that’s a long story,” Mom replied. “You’d probably be bored. And I don’t want you to miss your game.”

  “Give me the short version.”

  Mom explained that after they raised up the obelisk in Heliopolis, it stayed there for a long time—about 1,500 years. But during that time Egypt declined as a world power. It became part of the Roman Empire. Mom told me that in 12 BCE, Emperor Augustus Caesar had the obelisk moved to Alexandria, which is not far from Heliopolis. He raised it in front of the Caesarium, a temple honoring his father, Julius Caesar.

  “Yeah, but how did it get to New York City?” I asked.

  “Well,” Mom said, “when the Roman Empire collapsed in western Europe between 395 AD and 476—”

  “No, I don’t want to hear that boring history stuff,” I said to my mother. “Tell the story the way you told the first two.”

  “Okay, if you insist....”

  PART 3

  I AM A SPY.

  THIS IS MY STORY.

  (1879–1880)

  Diary of Panya Hassan, a girl in Alexandria, Egypt, who witnessed Cleopatra’s Needle being taken away from Egypt

  Translated from Arabic

  NOVEMBER 4, 1879

  Today is my fourteenth birthday, so happy birthday to ME. Father called me into his room this morning and told me he wanted to give me a special gift. He handed me a book and said, “Panya, this is the greatest book I ever read.”

  I opened the book and was surprised to find that all the pages were BLANK! No words. No pictures. I thought he was playing a joke on me.

  Father smiled and said someday this WILL BE the greatest book he ever read—after I write it. That is the book I am writing these words in now. Perhaps someday, someone will read it.

  Father said he gave me this book because I am a very opinionated young lady, which I must admit is true. My name Panya means “mouse,” but I am ANYTHING but a mouse. I care deeply about things, and I am not ashamed to express my feelings. But father says that sometimes I get angry and lash out at people, which is true, I suppose. I still did not understand why he gave me this book.

  Then he started talking about locomotives. Father explained that in a locomotive, water is heated in a boiler. That creates steam in the engine, which makes the locomotive move forward. But if it gets TOO hot and there is TOO much steam, the boiler can explode. So the engineer will open something they call a “blow-off valve” to release some of the steam and ease the pressure on the engine.

  “What does that have to do with me?” I asked.

  Father said that when I am angry I become full of pent-up emotion, the same way the boiler on a locomotive becomes full of steam. He said that instead of acting out my anger, I should write my thoughts down in this book. That way I will have the chance to think things over before I lash out with words or actions. He said writing in this book could be my way to blow off steam.

  I think father is a very smart man and I will follow his advice, even if he did compare me to a locomotive.

  NOVEMBER 5, 1879

  A group of Americans were at the Alexandria port today. All men. I had never seen an American before. They look like regular people, except they wear strange clothes and silly hats.

  They are probably tourists. Americans are fascinated by Egypt. I suppose it is because the United States is a young nation, barely a hundred years old. Egypt has been around for THOUSANDS of years. Tourists want to come and see our pyramids and our Sphinx near Cairo. They want to witness the ancient world with their own eyes, as if they can’t believe these things truly exist.

  With my own eyes, I look upon these American men with distrust. They must have wives and families. Why would they come here and leave them at home? What are they doing in Egypt?

  NOVEMBER 6, 1879

  There are rumors swirling around about the Americans I saw yesterday. Some of my schoolmates say the Americans are planning to build a canal in Panama. So they want to examine our beautiful Suez Canal, which opened ten years ago. But it would take two days to walk to Suez from here, so why are they spending so much time in Alexandria?

  Others say the Americans are searching for the tomb of King Tutankhamun. He took the throne when he was just a boy and ruled Egypt from 1332 to 1323 BCE. Tutankhamun died when he was not even twenty years old. Many archeologists have searched for his tomb, but so far it has not been found.

  Still others say the Americans are here to steal our treasures. The tourists come to see statues and artifacts of the ancient world. Then they take them home and put them in their private collections, or in museums. I believe we should keep our treasures in Egypt. If foreigners want treasures so badly, they should create their own.

  Cleopatra’s Needle in Alexandria, Egypt, 1879.

  NOVEMBER 7, 1879

  Finally I discovered the true reason why the Americans have come to Egypt. Yes, they want to steal something. But apparently it is something none of us had even considered—Cleopatra’s Needle! The grand obelisk has been standing on the shore here for many centuries, since 12 BCE. My friends just call it “Cleo.”