Death Shall Come

by Simon R. Green

  Penny and I had just sat down again when Marjorie stirred in her chair. She’d settled herself some distance from the rest of us, with a bottle of gin all to herself. Like Bernard she was getting through glass after glass, as though it was just something to do. Slumped ungainly in her chair, Marjorie was a sloppy drinker, spilling the stuff down her front and smearing her make-up, and not giving a damn. She suddenly started speaking, without prompting. Perhaps the silence bothered her, or perhaps she just thought it was her turn to say something. Her words didn’t seem to be aimed at anyone in particular.

  ‘I never liked this house. Draughty old dump, no proper amenities, miles from anywhere civilized, anywhere fun … I never wanted to live here, but George said we had to because his father had lost his mind. Because someone had to look after the collection. My George, my lovely George … I wanted him, so I had to take everything that came with him. The house, the family, the collection … We could have been so happy together … but there was all this shit that came with him.’

  She raised her head suddenly, to glare around the room with eyes that weren’t crying only because there was so much anger in them. ‘He’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you! And the house, and the stupid bloody collection!’

  No one said anything, so she went back to her drinking.

  ‘People can always surprise you,’ Penny said quietly.

  ‘Rarely in a good way,’ I said.

  ‘She honestly did care for father,’ said Chloe. ‘But who knew?’

  ‘She fitted the cliché so perfectly we never thought to look beyond it,’ said Stuart.

  Chloe leaned forward in her chair. ‘Marjorie … Marjorie!’

  ‘What?’ Marjorie’s head jerked up, and it took her a moment to focus on Chloe. ‘What do you want? I’m busy.’

  ‘Why did you cut everyone else out of the will if you didn’t care about the collection?’

  Marjorie snorted loudly. ‘I didn’t! That was all George’s doing … He was fed up with the lot of you. Said none of you were worthy of the collection. He just wanted me to make sure the collection would go to someone who’d look after it properly.’ She snorted again, but her heart wasn’t in it. ‘I tried to tell him I didn’t give a damn about any of that. I only cared for him … my lovely George.’

  She went back to brooding over her gin, and Chloe sank back in her chair. From the look on her face, she had a lot to think about. I turned to Stuart.

  ‘You keep staring at the door. Is there a problem?’

  ‘I’m not convinced a single chair is enough to keep out a determined enemy,’ he said, in a voice that was pure Colonel. ‘Perhaps we should drag some of the heavier furniture over and put together a proper barricade.’

  ‘I’ve seen that done before, on other missions,’ I said. ‘By people who thought it would protect them. And yet somehow it never seems to help much. Besides, it’s always possible that at some point we might need to leave in a hurry.’

  Stuart looked at me sharply. ‘What do you mean? Are you thinking someone might find another way into this room and attack us?’

  ‘Possibly,’ I said. ‘But rather more likely … What if one of us is the killer? And what if that person has decided that when help arrives they can’t afford to have the rest of us around to contradict whatever story the killer has in mind to explain everything? A single survivor would face much more sympathy.’

  ‘You have to admire the way his mind works,’ said Penny. ‘No one can be as scary as Ishmael when he’s being logical.’

  ‘We might need to get that door open in a hurry …’ I said to Stuart.

  But he was already looking at the door and nodding in agreement. This kind of forethought appealed to his military training.

  Chloe turned suddenly to look at me. ‘Given that we may not survive this evening, are you ready to tell me who you really are, Ishmael?’

  ‘Chloe, dear,’ said Stuart, ‘I promised Ishmael anonymity when he agreed to help us.’

  ‘I know, dear,’ said Chloe. ‘And that really was very sweet of you, but this isn’t a time for secrets. We could start with you, if you like. You’ve been telling us for years that you left Black Heir to take up a job in the Government, but did you really think I was ever going to believe that? You’re not the civil-servant type. You walked out on your beloved Army because they wanted to stick you behind a desk. Don’t forget I work for Black Heir! I know when someone’s hiding something. I used my contacts … and while none of them could find out exactly who you work for, just the levels of security involved narrowed it down to a few very obvious, very secret organizations. I’m not an idiot, you know.’

  ‘I never thought you were,’ said Stuart. ‘I would have told you, if I could. But it wouldn’t have been safe. For you, or for me. Some things are secret for a reason.’

  ‘I know,’ said Chloe. ‘That’s why I stopped digging.’

  She turned back to me. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to die with my curiosity unsatisfied. Do you work for my husband, and whoever he works for?’

  ‘We’re in the same line of business,’ I said carefully. ‘And it really wouldn’t be safe for you to know any more than that.’

  ‘Even now?’ said Chloe.

  ‘Perhaps especially now,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing like shared danger to bring people together and make them feel like opening up to each other. To talk about the things they always wanted to talk about, although they know they really shouldn’t. But I am determined that all of us are going to survive. So we shouldn’t bring up anything we might have cause to regret later.’

  Chloe looked at Penny. ‘Is he always this … professional?’

  ‘When it comes to secrets,’ Penny said solemnly, ‘Ishmael is in a class of his own.’

  ‘I wouldn’t argue with that!’ said Stuart.

  ‘Why are you so keen to know everything about me, Chloe?’ I said.

  She smiled sourly. ‘Because I never get to go out in the field. I just move the paperwork around, making sure everyone is where they’re supposed to be. I’ve seen some of the stuff our people bring in … but never know where it comes from. It was obvious you specialize in field work, and I wanted you to tell me if it’s as exciting as I always believed. But now I’ve had a taste of the real thing, I just want it all to be over …’

  She looked at me steadily. ‘You saw Nicky and Caroline. Are you sure they didn’t suffer?’

  ‘No,’ said Penny, ‘they just died. There wasn’t a mark on them. Like the Egyptians in Professor Rose’s story.’

  ‘Where is that man?’ said Stuart. ‘We should have heard from him by now. It’s not that big a house.’

  ‘Is he dead, do you think?’ said Chloe, still looking at me.

  ‘First rule in this business,’ I said. ‘Never assume anyone’s dead until you’ve seen the body. And even then it’s usually a good idea to give it a good hard poke with a stick, just to be on the safe side. But given how long it’s been since anyone saw Professor Rose, I would have to say the odds are not good …’

  ‘Four people dead, in such a short time,’ said Chloe. ‘Father, Nicky, Caroline and Professor Rose. I wish the security people would get here.’

  She didn’t look at Stuart, but I could tell from his face that he thought she blamed him for not calling them in sooner. He cleared his throat, in that clear and emphatic way they must teach in officer school as a prelude to changing the subject.

  ‘I really don’t like the way everything keeps coming back to the mummy. Everywhere you look, there’s a connection. George died in its presence, Nicholas and Caroline died the same way as the Egyptians who discovered the tomb, and Rose kept going on about the curse. Death shall come …’

  ‘You don’t really believe in that sort of thing?’ I said.

  He met my gaze steadily. ‘I’ve seen enough strange things in my time. I’m not ready to dismiss anything out of hand.’

  ‘You have to draw the line somewhere,’ I said.

  ‘D
o you?’ said Stuart. ‘These days, I don’t care what the threat is. Just tell me how big a gun I need to deal with it.’

  ‘Spoken like a typical ex-soldier,’ I said, not unkindly.

  ‘How much longer before Security get here?’ said Chloe.

  ‘Forty minutes,’ said Stuart, not even glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Maybe longer.’

  Marjorie heaved herself up out of her chair, and stood swaying on her feet. ‘I need to go to the bathroom. And no, it can’t wait.’

  ‘Why didn’t you go before we shut ourselves in here?’ said Penny.

  ‘Because I didn’t need to before!’ said Marjorie.

  Bernard lurched to his feet. ‘I need to visit the bathroom, too.’

  ‘See what you’ve started!’ said Penny.

  Susan rose quickly to stand beside Bernard, and just like that we were all on our feet.

  ‘I need the little girl’s room!’ Marjorie said loudly. ‘Right now!’

  ‘Damn!’ said Penny. ‘So do I, now.’

  ‘All right!’ I said.

  ‘It’s still a risk,’ said Stuart.

  ‘I need to piss!’ said Marjorie.

  ‘We should be safe enough, as long as we stick together,’ I said. ‘Pay attention, everyone! We’re all going in one group, because I don’t want to have to do this again. Chloe, where’s the nearest bathroom?’

  ‘Not far from here,’ said Chloe. ‘A few minutes, at most.’

  ‘Then we go straight there,’ said Stuart. ‘We take care of the business and we come straight back. No diversions, no arguments, and no one goes off on their own.’

  ‘You want to hold my hand while I’m in there?’ said Marjorie.

  I pulled the chair away, opened the door, and stepped outside. The corridor seemed still and peaceful enough.

  ‘We should hurry,’ said Susan, lowering her voice confidentially. ‘I’m not sure how much longer Bernard can hold on.’

  ‘It’ll be quicker if I lead the way,’ said Chloe.

  ‘All right, fine!’ said Marjorie. ‘But can we please get moving? My bladder is so full my back teeth are floating.’

  ‘Rather more information than I really needed,’ murmured Penny.

  I gave the corridor one more look, nodded to Chloe, and then stepped back out of her way. She strode off down the corridor, with Stuart at her side. Marjorie, Bernard and Susan followed quickly after her, leaving Penny and me to bring up the rear. And the hush of the house closed in around us.

  Chloe set a good pace, while I chivvied everyone along from the rear. I felt we were all seriously exposed and vulnerable outside the drawing room. It was hard to look in every direction at once and still keep the group moving. They kept getting distracted, by sudden side turnings or exceptionally dark shadows, or some painted face glaring at them from the collection, but I drove them all on with loud reassurances and even louder bad language until Chloe finally brought us to the bathroom door.

  I made everyone wait while I went in first to check it was safe. The white-tiled room was sparklingly clean, but only just large enough to hold the bare essentials. Toilet bowl, wash-basin, the usual amenities. And a pile of upmarket magazines in one corner, light reading for extended visits. People were going to have to queue, and there’s nothing more vulnerable than a line of people whose minds are on other things. I came back out, indicated everything was fine, and Marjorie practically trampled me underfoot in her eagerness to be first. I had to close the door after her, because she had other things on her mind. And then I watched one end of the corridor, while Penny watched the other and Stuart kept everyone in line.

  People went in and out, then stood around awkwardly, impatient to get back to the safety of the drawing room. Until I put my foot down, some were actually ready to go back on their own. The last thing I needed was people being picked off one by one, like Professor Rose. Stuart was the last one in, muttering under his breath about how long it was all taking. Penny looked at me.

  ‘Just you, and then we’re done.’

  ‘No need,’ I said. ‘I can last for days, like a camel.’

  ‘I really didn’t need to know that,’ said Penny.

  I led the way back to the drawing room. Everyone seemed a little more relaxed now the pressure was off, and less inclined to jump at shadows. Until I stopped abruptly and glared about me.

  ‘What is it?’ said Stuart, looking quickly around. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Hush!’ I said.

  Bernard glared belligerently around him, his large hands clenched into fists. Susan clung on to his arm, as much to hold him back as for comfort. Chloe looked ready for anything, and Marjorie just looked even more fed up than usual. As though I’d only stopped to annoy her. Penny moved in beside me.

  ‘What is it, Ishmael?’

  ‘I can hear someone moving around,’ I said quietly. ‘Off in the distance, right at the edge of my hearing.’

  Everyone listened, straining to hear anything in the silence.

  ‘Are you hearing footsteps?’ Stuart said finally. ‘Like the ones we heard on the top floor?’

  ‘What I’m hearing is definitely not soft or muffled,’ I said firmly. ‘Just ordinary human footsteps. Male, I’d say, from the weight and the stride. Except …’

  ‘Oh, it’s never good when you say that,’ said Penny. ‘Except what?’

  ‘The rhythm is wrong,’ I said, frowning. ‘That isn’t how people walk …’

  They were all looking at me now, but none of them wanted to say anything. The corridor stretched away, open and empty, and the collection loomed around us.

  ‘I really don’t like us standing around,’ Stuart said quietly. ‘If we’re not in any immediate danger, we should get moving again.’

  ‘I really don’t like the sound of those footsteps,’ I said.

  ‘Could it be the mummy?’ said Penny.

  I looked at her. ‘If I offered you a large amount of money, would you stop saying that?’

  ‘How large?’ said Penny. And then her eyebrows rose sharply, as a thought struck her. ‘Could someone be acting like a mummy to throw a scare into us?’

  ‘Now that is more like it,’ I said. I turned to Stuart. ‘Get everyone back to the drawing room. Penny and I will check this out.’

  Chloe looked at me sharply. ‘You really think it’s a good idea to go chasing off after footsteps only you can hear?’

  ‘If I can track down the killer, the danger will be over,’ I said.

  ‘But can you do that?’ said Marjorie.

  ‘Yes,’ said Stuart. ‘He can. It’s what he does.’

  He nodded to me, and I nodded back. Two professionals who’d learned to trust each other’s judgement and abilities. He gathered up the others and led them away. Penny waited till they’d all rounded the corner, and then looked at me steadily.

  ‘I don’t hear anything.’

  ‘Neither do I, now,’ I said. ‘Whatever it was has moved out of range.’

  ‘So where do we start looking?’ said Penny.

  ‘The last I heard, the footsteps were heading towards the mummy room,’ I said. ‘Where all of this began.’

  ‘Where George was killed!’ Penny shook her head. ‘Wonderful!’

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ I said. ‘Maybe the mummy will be back in its sarcophagus, and we can all relax a little.’

  ‘The mood I’m in I’d haul the bloody thing out of the box, then rip it apart and dance on the pieces,’ said Penny. ‘Just on general principles.’

  ‘Now you’re talking.’

  We moved quickly through the shadowy corridors, and the only footsteps were our own. We’d almost reached the door to the mummy room when I stopped abruptly again. Penny looked around quickly.

  ‘Is someone here? I don’t hear anything.’

  ‘I’m smelling something,’ I said. ‘It’s been hard for me to smell anything useful in the fog of scents the collection gives off … but I’m picking up faint traces. Right here.’
/>   ‘Traces of what?’

  ‘Blood,’ I said. ‘I missed it before, because so much had been spilled in the mummy room.’

  I turned my head slowly back and forth, breathing deeply, trying to isolate the scent … and then advanced on a length of shelving packed with Egyptian artefacts, crammed together in no particular order because they weren’t that important. I thrust a hand into the midst of them and pulled out an object that had been pushed all the way to the back, out of sight. A heavy gold figurine some two foot tall, it was a stylized statue of a cat. Thickly encrusted with dried blood.

  ‘The Egyptian goddess Bast,’ I said. ‘And the murder weapon. The killer used it to smash in George’s head and then bludgeon him to death. There was no planning or preparation to George’s murder, the killer just grabbed the nearest blunt instrument off the shelf.’

  ‘So … not the mummy, after all!’ said Penny.

  ‘No,’ I said. I studied the figurine carefully. ‘Bast … symbol for the cunning of the cat and the rage of the lioness. The name has been translated as “devouring lady”.’

  ‘No wonder we didn’t see it,’ said Penny. ‘Hidden away like that among all the other stuff …’

  I looked at her sharply. ‘Of course! That’s it! Hidden in plain sight …’

  I put the cat statue back on the shelf and raced back down the corridor. Penny quickly caught up with me.

  ‘But … that’s the murder weapon! Are you really going to just leave it there?’

  ‘The killer doesn’t know we know about it,’ I said. ‘It’s safe enough.’

  ‘Aren’t we at least going to check out the mummy room?’

  ‘The killer isn’t in there,’ I said. ‘I would have heard him.’

  ‘Then why are we running?’

  ‘Because I’ve just realized where the missing mummy is.’

  We ended up back in the entrance hall, taking in the sarcophagus standing against the wall beside the grandfather clock. Penny glared at the sarcophagus, fighting to get her breath back, and then glared at me.

  ‘All right … it’s still there. So what?’

  ‘Do you remember Stuart telling us a story when we first arrived? This sarcophagus was originally occupied by an Ancient Egyptian called Nesmin, but the coffin was empty when the Cardavans acquired it. An unoccupied box, just like the one you hid in at the British Museum.’