Selected Detective
MENORAH GUARD

After leaving Gratz's husband and wife's apartment, Khalifa walked around Al-maadi for some time, while watching the rows of luxury homes. He stopped to look at the shop on the side of the road, as he wished, he bought a carved wooden statue of Horus, the God of Eagles, thinking that it would be a sweet gift for his wife Zenab. Then, still having four hours of free time, he returned to the metro station and took the train to the city center.

Whenever he had the opportunity to go to Cairo and had some free time, he was usually interested in visiting the Egyptian Antiquities Museum in Mudan Tahrir. So that's where he'll go now, hoping to immerse himself, if only for a moment, in his incredible collection of ancient artifacts. His old friend and mentor Professor Muhammad Al-Habibi, the museum's chief curator, was away teaching in Europe, because there are few things in the world that he enjoys more than a walk to the museum gallery accompanied by a professor. Although not with him, the museum remains a magical place, and as soon as his train darted north across the edge of the dusty city, he felt a sense of hope tickling against the possible distractions in front of him.

There are eight stops from Al-Maadi to Sadat, the closest station to the museum. One minute he was just swinging around inside the crowded train, looking at the tattered tenements passing quickly outside the window; the next, unaware he had exited the carriage, he is now on a quiet street outside the Mar Girgus Metro station clutching a horus-wood statue and observing a neat stone wall behind which is a collection of houses, Masr Al-Qadimah Monastery and Asymmetrical Church, Old City in Cairo.

Although he knew the ins and outs of the capital like the back of his hand, this was the part he had never visited before the gap in his geography gave a sense of admiration for history. Because, as the name implies, this is the most antique part of the metropolis, with buildings or parts of the building going back to Roman times (in ancient Egypt there were no cities here; The capital is located far to the south, in Memphis).

For almost a minute Khalifa stood there, flickering, disoriented, as if she had just woken up from a long sleep to find herself in a completely different location from where she had come from when she was about to go to sleep. Then, moved by a command he could neither explain nor refuse, he crossed the street and went down a bunch of stone steps that led him down the perimeter walls around the area and into the densely packed buildings inside.

So quiet inside, unnatural, and so calm.

The air was moist and stuffy, without any time constraints as if the laws of physics prevailing in all the rest of the city had, in this particular corner, somehow, collapsed into a delay, he said, leaving all things delayed in a silent and inevitable emptiness. He stopped, uncertain of what to do, but at the same time stunned by a sudden curiosity that his presence might not be entirely random or just original, but there seems to be a certain purpose behind it. Then, he stepped forward again, following the small and narrow path that stretched out in front of him like pieces of knife incision lines to the entire tangled entrails in that place. Fragile brick and stone buildings loomed on the walls of his left and right sides, with thick wooden doors here and there, like stiff mouths, he said, most of them are tightly closed but few are rather open, allowing a glimpse into the secret world within which the garden is neat; the space is claustrophobic with wood; the shaded Coptic Chapel, the, its fluted pillars were wrapped around it by the gentle rays of candles.

Here and there another road lay on his left and right side. Silent, quiet, empty, inviting him to walk to another part of the place. He obeyed his heart, following a path that suddenly changed direction here and there until finally, like a current that then turned into a large pond, appeared in a dusty open in the middle, it stands a two-story square building in yellow stone, with arched windows and ornate ribbons of carving around the edges of its flat roof.

The sign reads SYNAGOGUE BEN EZRA - BELONGING TO THE JEWISH COMMUNITY IN CAIRO.

He had never seen a synagogue, let alone been in it. For a moment he doubted. Part of him wanted to surround him and go back through the road. However, the feeling that somehow he had to be there, which had indeed been there, in an inexplicable way, had been called, had been called, he said, now it is so powerful that it overcomes all doubts. Grasping his wooden statue, he walked towards the building and broke through its arched entrance.

The interior space is so cool and soft-lit, quiet, quiet, with a white-gray marble floor. A row of braso lights hung from the ceiling and, on the other hand, a row of pillars supported a low wooden gallery. The walls are covered in geometric patterns in green, gold, red and white, while at the end of the room, on an octagonal marble podium, the, a set of five steps leading up to a beautiful wood-decorated sanctuary, its surface covered in ivory and pearls, its doors engraved with rows of Hebrew letters.

Again, he was a bit doubtful. The feeling of curiosity grew even more in his stomach; then, slowly, he stepped forward, walking along the synagogue until he stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the sacred space. A pair of braso lights, almost as tall as he was, stood on the other side, each with a long vertical stalk from which appeared six branches curving gracefully out and up, three on the one side, one side, and three on the other side, each crowned, as well as the stalk, a fire-shaped light bulb. Apart from the beauty of the other ornaments in the building, for some reason the lamp was so attentive, which could be the focus of his sense of hope. While stepping into one of them, he stuck out his hand and grasped his delicate tank.

you will make a lamp of pure gold, and there will be six branches coming out from its sides, and the cover, the petals, and the flowers must be one with the other. ⁇ � Khalifa turned around, aghast. He thought he was alone there, and felt certain that he was alone in the room. Now, looking some distance to his right, somewhat hidden in the dimness below the gallery, a man was sitting on one of the wooden chairs that were along the walls of the synagogue. He wore a dark blue robe and a head covering that seemed to blend with the shadow of dimness that was why, perhaps, Khalifa missed watching him. As well as a long white beard that went down almost to his chest. He had blue eyes that shone wonderfully, which seemed to sparkle in the darkness, like stars in the sky at night.

⁇ Her name is Menorah, ⁇ � said the stranger. Her voice is soft and somewhat musical.

⁇ af? ⁇ �

the light you are holding. Called menorah. ⁇ � Khalifa realized that her hand was still holding a spiral-like stalk of light. He pulled his hand, a little embarrassed, as if caught touching something that should not be touched.

⁇ forgive me, ⁇ � her. ishould.... ⁇ � The stranger moves his hand, smiling.

it's good that you have an interest in him. Most people, they just pass by without noticing it. If you want to touch it, please. You're my guest. ⁇ �

He remained in his place for a while, staring at Khalifa the detective never saw such shining blue eyes and then stood up and approached him.

His movements were so light, liquid and effortless, it was almost like floating. Although her hair and beard were white as ice, as she was now under the light, Khalifa could see her smooth, neat skin, unlined, upright body so it was impossible to guess her age. There was something confusing about him. Not scary, just .. weird, foreign.

It cannot be deciphered in words, as if he was not actually there in real time, but rather a part of a dream.

⁇ abbi? ⁇ � again, the man smiled, his eyes glimpsed at the statue of Horus in Khalifa's left hand. no, no. No Rabbi has remained here for more than thirty years. I'm just .. the manager. Like my father before, and his father my father, and before again. We ... keep things here. ⁇ �

The tone of the voice is what it is, usually a conversation. However, there was something in his choice of words, how he stared at and enveloped Khalifa, jerking directly at her, which seemed to be a clue to a deeper meaning, he said, a certain level of mutual understanding far exceeds what is openly expressed. Although Khalifa has always been underestimated by those who believe in the paranormal, as Professor Al-habibi calls it, this detective cannot escape the sudden and unexpected belief that men arethe man not only knew for sure about who he was, but in an indeterminable way was responsible for his presence here.

He shook his head, gambled, and moved back half a step. There is a long silence.

⁇ means something, that word ⁇ orah ⁇ �? ⁇ � he finally asked, trying to start a conversation, to melt the tense atmosphere that seemed to encompass them.

This stranger looked at him intently he was a little higher then, with a thin wise smile as if he was indeed expecting the question, turned towards the lamp.

His blue eyes sparkled in the sparkle of a fire-shaped light bulb.

⁇ enorah is the Hebrew word for candlestick (candelabrum), a branched candle holder, ⁇ � he explained slowly. ⁇ ampu God. A symbol of great power for our nation. That symbol. Signs of various signs. ⁇ � Far from lightening up the atmosphere, Khalifa felt that the question had exacerbated it. Apart from that, apart from himself, he could no longer endure but was attracted to the words of the man, as if he were listening to some kind of prayer or call.

⁇ ni ... beautiful once, ⁇ � he muttered. His gaze rose to the stalk of the lamp and along the arches of its smooth branches.

⁇ alam his own way, e� said. like any other reproduction, except the shadow likens the original first lamp, the true lamp, the lamp made by the great goldsmith Bezalel, back to the foggy time, in the days of Moses and the Escape from Egypt. ⁇ � He flicked his fingertips on the outermost arch of the lamp. ⁇ e� is very beautiful, she said, with eyes sparkling as if a pair of bright blue butterflies had perched on both sides of her nose. the seven branches, shaped like flower buds, walnut-like bowls, were all carved out of a single block of solid gold the most beautiful thing ever. The lamp was in an abandoned place of worship, and in the First Temple that Solomon built, and in the Second Temple as well, until the Romans came and then vanished in this world. almost two thousand years ago. Will it look back.... ⁇ � He shrugs. who knows, maybe someday? ⁇ � He was silent for a while, while staring intently at the lamp.

A distant and strange look from his eyes seemed as if he was recalling the past. Then he lowered his hand and returned to Khalifa.

⁇ Babylon, ⁇ � said, ⁇ that which the prophecy tells us. In Babylon the true menorah will be found, in the house of Abner. When the time comes. ⁇ � Again, for no reason that he can explain, this detective is struck by a hidden sensation that shakes against the man's words, a feeling that, in fact, is, although he did not fully understand what he had just said, it nevertheless felt so significant. He returned the man's gaze for a while, then looked up, his eyes looking around the synagogue room until he arrived at the clock hanging above the entrance.

darn it! ⁇ �

He was so confident he was in the room for only fifteen minutes, and twenty minutes outside. But the clockwork showed almost five o'clock, meaning he had been in the synagogue for more than three hours. He checked again the clock, which was indeed in accordance with the wall clock, and with a puzzling trouser of heads, said that he had to leave.

I really lost track of time. ⁇ � The man smiled. ⁇ enorah can have that effect.

It is a mysterious power. ⁇ �

The two looked at Khalifa momentarily experiencing a dizzying sensation, as if she was being plunged from a very high place into a clear blue pond then, with a nod, the detective stepped past the lights and walked away from the synagogue.

do you know your name? ⁇ � The man asked as he was about to reach the entrance.

Khalifa. ⁇ usuf, ⁇ � answered. Then there was an enticement, more out of courtesy than to want to know the truth, he asked, too, Your name? ⁇ �

The man smiled. my name is Shomer Ha-Or. Just like my father's name before him, and his father again before him. I wish I could see you again, Joseph. Actually, I knew I'd see you again. ⁇ � Before the detective could ask what he meant, the man waved his hand and, again in a floating motion, returned into the shadows on the inner side of the synagogue, he said, it disappeared from his sight as if he was stepping out of this world.