Death Shall Come

by Simon R. Green

  ‘I’ve got a really nice room picked out for you and Penny, Ishmael,’ said Marjorie. ‘I’ll show you where it is when we’re done with this. It’s very comfortable.’

  ‘With rather better lighting, I hope,’ said Penny.

  Marjorie laughed brightly, and then stopped when no one else joined in. George cleared his throat loudly to show he wasn’t done talking.

  ‘The collecting bug became a family obsession,’ he said. ‘Each new head of the house took it on himself to add to the collection and expand its range.’ He gestured at a wall covered with packed bookshelves. ‘We’ve all become experts in our chosen field. Though not to your level, of course, Professor Rose.’

  The tour continued. Some of the exhibits were impressive, some were valuable, and some were so obviously rare there was no way they could have left Egypt legally. I noticed that Nicholas kept hanging back and avoided looking at the collection directly. When George finally paused for breath, Nicholas suddenly started talking again.

  ‘I hate the things with cat heads the most. They scared the crap out of me when I was small, and turned up in my nightmares for years afterwards. Cat heads on shelves and on the walls, alone and horribly alive. They looked right at me, snarling and spitting, and spoke to me in languages I didn’t always understand. One of them told me I’d die here … in Cardavan House.’

  He broke off. Caroline patted his arm comfortingly. George sniffed loudly. His face was filled with disgust for his son’s weakness. Along with anger at such an insult to his beloved collection. I decided it was time for me to change the subject.

  ‘This is all very impressive,’ I said. ‘But I’m afraid I’ve already spotted a few definite fakes.’

  Everyone looked at me. With shock and surprise. And anticipation.

  ‘Nonsense!’ said George. ‘Everything here has been thoroughly checked! The professor …’

  ‘Clearly hasn’t finished his work yet,’ I said. I pointed to a small wooden stele with barely discernible cartouches. ‘Fake, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Because it’s wood?’ said Rose. ‘Don’t show your ignorance. Clay was most usual, but wood was not unknown …’

  ‘Not elm wood,’ I said. ‘No elm trees in Ancient Egypt.’

  Rose looked at me, and then at the stele. ‘You can’t be sure that’s elm, just from looking at it.’

  ‘Check it yourself,’ I said. ‘In the meantime, take that unrolled papyrus on the wall over there …’

  Everyone looked. Rose glared at me. ‘I suppose you’re about to tell us it’s the wrong kind of papyrus.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘It’s a fake because whoever produced the artwork couldn’t resist adding a little touch of their own. To be exact, I can see the starship Enterprise flying in the background.’

  I pointed it out and everyone crowded forward for a closer look. The tiny starship was unmistakable once you knew what to look for. George looked thunderstruck, Rose glared at me, and Stuart nodded approvingly. Nicholas got the giggles.

  ‘Makes you wonder what else here isn’t what it’s supposed to be, doesn’t it?’ he said happily.

  ‘Why the Enterprise?’ said Penny.

  ‘Someone’s idea of a signature,’ I said.

  ‘How could you see something that small in this light?’ said Chloe.

  ‘Years of experience,’ I said. ‘In learning to be observant.’

  George stabbed an accusing finger at Rose. ‘You should have seen that! What else have you missed? Maybe I should fire you and bring in Ishmael as my personal expert!’

  ‘I hadn’t reached this part of the collection yet,’ Rose said flatly. ‘It’s a very large collection.’

  ‘Yes,’ said George, somewhat mollified. ‘It is.’

  Rose glared at me for a long moment. I’d made myself an enemy.

  Penny decided it was time for her to change the subject. ‘You started to tell us there were strange stories attached to Cleopatra. What kind of stories?’

  George smiled at her, pleased at a chance to show off his learning again. And to make clear how important his new acquisition was.

  ‘Cleopatra was supposed to be a soul thief, who killed her enemies by ripping their ka right out of them. She boasted she would live lifetimes sustained by the stolen life energies of others.’

  ‘How old was she when she finally died?’ I asked.

  ‘Fifty-two,’ said George. ‘Doesn’t sound much by our standards, but we’re talking about a period when anyone who made it past thirty was suspected of being in league with dark forces. Most died a lot younger.’

  ‘How did Cleopatra come by these amazing powers?’ said Penny. ‘Did she claim to be descended from the Egyptian gods?’

  ‘Most Pharaohs claimed that at one time or another,’ said George. ‘According to legend, her powers came from a magical stone that descended from the heavens. She only fell from power after the stone was taken from her.’

  ‘Who took it?’ said Penny. ‘And what happened to it?’

  ‘No one knows,’ said Rose. ‘It’s a pity the stone didn’t come with the mummy. It would make a marvellous addition to the collection.’

  George let out a brief bark of laughter. ‘A magical stone that could make you live forever? Damn right, Professor! I’d have given it place of honour!’

  Everyone managed some kind of smile. But I couldn’t help thinking that amazing things really did fall out of the sky, in my experience.

  THREE

  Struck Down

  ‘Well!’ said George, rubbing his hands together briskly. ‘On with the tour, then! Still lots to see …’

  And then his smile disappeared, as he realized no one else shared his enthusiasm. Most of the family weren’t even trying to be polite about it. There was a certain amount of glancing back and forth and shuffling of feet, as they all looked for the right way to say they’d rather suffer a horrible death than continue any further. In the end, not surprisingly, Nicholas was the first to break ranks. He stepped forward and glared pugnaciously at his father.

  ‘I’ve had enough. We’ve admired your precious mummy and listened to your preposterous stories and made all the proper appreciative noises … So we can all say we’ve done our duty. But if I have to look at one more piece of Ancient Egyptian junk I will gouge out both my eyes and throw them on the floor and stamp on them!’

  ‘Now, Nicky,’ Caroline said quickly, ‘Let’s not overreact. You might have seen it all before, but I haven’t …’

  ‘Trust me,’ said Nicholas, ‘it really doesn’t get any better! I’m going. You suit yourself.’

  He strode out of the room and stomped off down the corridor. Caroline shot us an apologetic glance and hurried after him. Chloe was the next to step forward. She met her father’s deepening scowl with a kind but determined smile.

  ‘Sorry, Daddy, but I need to go back and see how grandfather is. He’s definitely worse, compared with the last time I saw him. We may have to consider the possibility that keeping him here isn’t the best thing we could be doing for him.’

  ‘You think we should just put the old boy in a home, don’t you?’ said George.

  ‘Somewhere he could get professional nursing care, yes.’

  ‘This is where he belongs,’ said George. ‘Where I can keep an eye on him.’

  ‘But is that what’s best for him?’ said Chloe. ‘Which is why you took control of the family, isn’t it? Because it was in his best interests. Come along, Stuart.’

  She strode out of the room and this time it was Stuart’s turn to smile apologetically, before hurrying after her. I looked thoughtfully at the empty doorway. For the first time, I’d seen some real steel in Chloe’s character. She didn’t strike me as someone who needed protecting. So why did Stuart want me here, really?

  Professor Rose cleared his throat, and then stopped immediately when everyone turned to look at him. ‘I need to go back to my room and consult my books. To do some research on that possibly unreliable stele.’

  �
�And I can’t go wandering around the house with you, George, when I should be looking after my guests,’ said Marjorie. ‘Besides, you know I don’t appreciate the collection like you do.’

  ‘All right then, go!’ George said loudly. ‘You don’t need my permission! Do what you want.’

  But as Marjorie followed Professor Rose out of the room I could tell how disappointed George was. He’d wanted her with him as he showed off his trophies. Even the most obsessive collectors can feel the need to have their enthusiasm validated by the approval of others. And I’d caught the look on Marjorie’s face as she brushed past me. The pleasant, elegant hostess had disappeared, replaced by a woman not prepared to accept any rival in her own home. Not even a long dead one. An older man with a new young wife should have anticipated that. But George hadn’t. Perhaps because he saw Marjorie as just another part of his collection …

  Of course, I could have been reading too much into such a brief confrontation. But I didn’t think so.

  George smiled determinedly at Penny and me. ‘So! Just us, eh? Should have known only a real expert like yourself, Ishmael, would appreciate my collection properly. Follow me. Lots to see, lots to see …’

  He stalked out of the room and into the corridor, not even glancing back to make sure we were following. Penny and I strolled after him, taking our time. Penny moved in close, so she could murmur in my ear.

  ‘Why are we sticking with him, darling? In order for me to be any more bored, I’d have to be twins.’

  ‘What better way to get a complete tour of the house?’ I murmured back. ‘And a chance to put myself in George’s good books. Just in case I feel the need to abuse that trust later. Besides, this is a good way to get to know George on his own, away from his family. To get a feel for what’s going on in his head.’

  ‘You think there’s more to him than meets the eye?’ said Penny.

  ‘There would have to be,’ I said.

  But in the end George tired of his tour after just a few more corridors. It wasn’t the same for him without a full audience to lecture and impress. He frowned more and said less, until finally we ended up back outside the mummy room. George stood before the door, thinking his own thoughts, while Penny and I waited patiently.

  ‘I’m sure you’d like to see Cleopatra again, wouldn’t you?’ he said finally. ‘She is the pride of my collection. My greatest prize.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ said Penny.

  ‘Penny loves mummies,’ I said.

  ‘I do. I really do.’

  George pushed open the door and hurried in, as if he needed to reassure himself the mummy was still there. By the time Penny and I joined him, he was standing before the locked sarcophagus, rocking back and forth on his feet as he stared into the painted eyes of the face on the coffin lid. Looking at the long dead woman in a way I’d never seen him look at his wife.

  ‘You’re not going to tell me this is a fake, are you?’ he said quietly.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘The sarcophagus and its contents give every appearance of being genuine. But when it comes to those incredible stories, as to how the tomb was discovered and what happened afterwards …’

  ‘Egypt is full of stories,’ said George. ‘Who can say what’s real and what isn’t, after so many years …’

  ‘It’s certainly an amazing find,’ I said. ‘But who else can you show it to, outside your family?’

  ‘No one,’ George said immediately. ‘I can’t trust anyone else. Doesn’t matter whether it’s the authorities or any of the other private collectors. They’d all want to take her away from me. Jealous, because she’s mine.’

  ‘If you can’t show her off,’ said Penny, ‘what’s the point in having her?’

  ‘Knowing I’ve got her,’ said George. ‘And they haven’t.’

  Suddenly realizing he was revealing more of himself than he was comfortable with, he turned a stern look on me that made it clear the party was over.

  ‘You’ve indulged me long enough, Ishmael. Don’t think I’m not grateful, but I need some time to myself. You’ll find the others in the dining hall.’

  He gave me quick but clear directions, and then indicated the open door with a jerk of his head.

  ‘Don’t want you getting lost,’ he said brusquely. ‘It’s a big house, after all.’

  I had already memorized all the twists and turns of our journey, but I didn’t mention that. I was more interested in the way his gaze kept returning to the painted face on the coffin lid, as if she was the only thing in the room that really mattered.

  ‘If you’re sure …’ I said, but he’d already dismissed me from his thoughts.

  ‘There’s a cold meal laid out in the dining hall,’ said George. ‘The servants did that much before they left. You can go now.’

  Penny and I had barely stepped out into the corridor before the door slammed shut behind us, and I heard the lock turn. George really wanted to be on his own.

  ‘A boy’s best friend is his mummy,’ I said solemnly.

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ said Penny.

  It didn’t take long to get to the dining hall. I strode through the gloomy corridors, taking each turn confidently, while Penny looked uneasily around her, avoiding the deeper shadows and glaring back at the painted faces on the shelves.

  ‘You didn’t need directions. You remember the way, don’t you?’ she said accusingly.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’re weird, sweetie. Luckily, it’s part of your charm.’

  ‘I’ve always thought so.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, darling.’

  We finally ended up before a closed door at the end of another very long corridor. Rows of funerary masks stared unblinkingly from both sides, like a coldly judgemental audience. I ignored them with studied disdain, leaned in close to the door and breathed deeply.

  ‘I can smell food. Cold meats, salads, fruit.’

  ‘Really weird!’ said Penny. ‘Should we knock?’

  ‘I don’t see why.’

  I opened the door, kicked it back out of the way, and strode in as though I’d just conquered Cardavan House with steel and fire. I didn’t need to look back to know Penny was shaking her head resignedly. The dining hall wasn’t on the same overwhelming scale as the drawing room, but it was still a leftover from a time when the whole extended family would be expected to attend every meal. Covered by a blindingly white cloth and with highly polished candelabra set out on it at regular intervals, the dining table stretched away further than any modern family could ever be comfortable with. All the food, plates and cutlery had been arranged at the far end. A good spread – mostly regular hearty food, with a sprinkling of delicacies. And a wide choice of wines. All very civilized. The great open room was brightly lit, but completely deserted. We were the first to arrive.

  ‘Tell me you don’t find this just a bit weird,’ said Penny. ‘It’s like the Marie Celeste in here.’

  ‘The others are on their way,’ I said. ‘I can hear them.’

  ‘And now annoyingly weird!’ said Penny.

  We made our way down the length of the table and discovered elegantly handwritten name cards to show where everyone was supposed to sit. I was tempted to rearrange them all, just for the fun of it, but the sound of approaching footsteps was too close.

  Stuart and Chloe were the first to appear. They’d both changed for dinner, and surprisingly Stuart wasn’t wearing his tuxedo any longer. Instead, he’d gone for a dark blue three-piece suit of impeccable style and respectable dullness. At first, I thought he’d only done it so he could show off his old-school tie. Stuart might not have enjoyed his schooldays, but he wasn’t above taking advantage of them. And then I smiled inwardly, as it occurred to me that he’d probably hired his tuxedo for the weekend and didn’t want to risk getting food stains on it.

  Chloe was all dressed up in an elegant evening gown of emerald green with gold piping, and a single string of pearls.
She looked like she belonged in a room like this, at a meal like this. Stuart stood proudly at her side. They made a handsome couple.

  They went straight to their places without checking the name cards. Stuart pulled back Chloe’s chair for her, but she stopped him with a gesture. She smiled charmingly at me, and I gave her an equally meaningless smile in return. Like two boxers touching gloves in the ring before the fight begins.

  ‘So!’ Chloe said brightly. ‘What work, exactly, do you and Stuart have in common, Ishmael?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘What I do is always going to be confidential. You should understand that, Chloe, working for Black Heir.’

  She cocked her head slightly to one side, as though to see me more clearly. ‘There’s always something in your voice when you say Black Heir … As though you don’t exactly approve of us. Why is that, Ishmael?’

  ‘I had good reasons to leave,’ I said. ‘And if you work for them long enough, you’ll find good reasons too.’

  ‘The work we do is important,’ said Chloe. ‘We keep people safe.’

  ‘Black Heir are scavengers and bullies,’ I said flatly. ‘In it for the profit. Protecting people is just a side line.’

  ‘Do you know something about Black Heir that I don’t?’

  ‘More likely, you know something you haven’t allowed yourself to think about properly.’

  ‘I looked you up in Black Heir’s records when Stuart said you’d be coming,’ said Chloe. ‘I couldn’t find your name anywhere. But then Ishmael Jones doesn’t sound like a real name, anyway.’

  ‘It suits me,’ I said.

  ‘What if I looked for your face?’

  ‘You wouldn’t find anything,’ I said. ‘Black Heir holds its own secrets closest of all.’

  Stuart was starting to look uncomfortable. Perhaps fortunately, we were interrupted by Bernard and Susan’s arrival. The old man was wearing a formal tuxedo that looked like it had seen a lot of hard use, though it still retained its basic elegance. Susan wore an evening gown whose style hadn’t been fashionable in ages, presumably because she felt comfortable in it. She’d put on a few diamonds here and there for the occasion.