“Yep.  He even designed his famous Tesla towers after them, using their pyramid design and locating them in a similar distance and alignment from the Earth’s equator.”

“I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t,” replied Townsend loudly.  “But the man was one smart cookie.”

When the pyramids were finally lost from view, together they both turned to face forward, listening as Rickards spoke to the pilot.

“So, you know where we’re going?”

“Yes, yes.” The pilot nodded.  “To the glass.”

“How close do you think you can get us?”

“Very close,” he said, scanning the horizon.  “But no for long time.  It is restricted.”

“Restricted by who?”

The pilot shrugged.  “The government.  Too long and they send jets.”

“What kind of jets?”

“Fighter jets.”

Due to its slower speed, it took a full hour to reach the beginnings of what they were looking for.  It was visible first as a glimmer across the barren horizon and stretching as far as any of them could see in both directions.

Soon the glimmering line thickened and deepened as they approached, surrounded by the deafening roar of the Kodiak’s powerful Pratt & Whitney Canada single engine.

At about ten miles out, the pilot banked the aircraft, gently turning to align with the edge of the strange desert spectacle.

“What can you tell us about it?”

The pilot motioned toward the vast sea of glimmering desert beneath them.  “It is old.  Older than Egypt.  Or pharaohs.  Created by giant meteorite many thousand years ago.”

Behind them, Townsend glanced at Angela and frowned, shaking his head.

“Makes the desert glow.  Even night.”

Rickards squinted.  “It glows at night?”

“Sometime.”

“Can we get a sample?” asked Townsend.

The pilot nodded.  “In Cairo.  Some people sneak out.  Then sell glass to tourists.  But be careful.  Tourists get in trouble trying to take glass out of Egypt.”

“It’s illegal.”

“Illegal to sell?  No.  Illegal to take?  Yes.”

Townsend held up his phone and began video recording as they passed along the glass desert’s perimeter.  After a few minutes, he stopped and lowered it again, peering into the distance.

Glancing over his right shoulder, the pilot motioned to their seats.  “Glasses in your seats.”

“What?”

“Glasses.”  He paused, searching for the word.  “Binocolers.”

Together they searched and found a set tucked inside each of their seat pouches.

Retrieving his, while Angela handed a third pair to Rickards, Townsend peered out at the distant, shining landscape and adjusted the focus.

“Incredible.”

“You see anything?”

He waited to respond, still adjusting his view.  “I think so.”

“Really?  Where?”

He lowered his binoculars and pointed a few degrees northwest.  “Out there.  Looks like a small structure, maybe.”

Angela leaned across in front of him and raised her own set, searching.  “What kind of structure?”

“I’m guessing an old house.  Or a building.”

“I see it.  Looks as if it may be abandoned.”

Townsend tapped the pilot on the shoulder.  “Do you know what that is?”