by Barry Reese
Morgan looked at their client through narrow eyes. "And the mummy spoke to you in English?"
Lorraine paused, as if the implications of that hadn’t occurred to her. "Well, yes."
Samantha nudged her partner. "Doesn’t mean anything. If a mummy really can come back to life, that’s more amazing than it being able to speak English."
Morgan had to agree with that. They’d both seen things that defied description, which meant you couldn’t discount anything.
"When is it supposed to happen again?" Samantha wanted to know.
Lorraine looked very pale. "Tonight. She screams again tonight. That’s why I came here. I want to hire Lazarus Gray to be there. To protect me. To tell me I’m not insane. And, maybe, to kill her."
"I’m willing to do that," Lazarus Gray said. All eyes turned toward the man who stood in the doorway. How long he’d been there, no one was sure. He sometimes moved with the stealth of a jungle cat, soundlessly coming and going. He was a well-built man with gray-streaked brown hair, making him look older than he was. His eyes were piercing and mismatched: one eye was a startling emerald, the other a dull brown. He wore a dark suit and tie but there was something primal about him, something that suggested he would be just as much at home in a loincloth. "But before we come over tonight, there are a few things that must be done."
Morgan rose, smiling. "Chief! Boy, am I glad you’re here! Did you hear everything?"
"Enough." Gray nodded at Samantha. "Please make a transatlantic call to this Mr. Garmont. Find out the history of this mummy and if anything unusual occurred with it in the past. Morgan, I want you to go upstairs and get Eun. I believe he’s about to start filing the papers from the case I was just on. Tell him to set those aside and go with you to the Sovereign People’s Bank. Tell him to find out if Mr. Mitchell had a safety deposit box. He needs to get access to it."
"My husband didn’t have anything like that. If he had, I’m sure his father would have given me the key at the funeral."
"Perhaps." Gray favored Lorraine with the briefest of smiles but the expression didn’t reach his eyes, which remained cold and determined. "I will need you to authorize something for me, Mrs. Mitchell. I’m going to need to see your husband’s body and confirm that there was no foul play involved."
Lorraine’s lips became a hard, thin line. "My husband’s buried in the ground."
"Yes. But if you give permission, I can pull a few strings and have him exhumed immediately."
With a shaky voice, Lorraine whispered, "Whatever you think is needed, Mr. Gray."
"Good. I’ll help you with the appropriate paperwork. Morgan, please escort Mrs. Mitchell back to her home. Examine this mummy while you’re waiting for us. Make sure that it’s what it looks like and that no one is playing a cruel trick on our client." Gray nodded crisply, energized by the mystery before him. "Let’s get to work. We only have about twelve hours before the corpse screams again."
Chapter II
Questions With Deadly Answers
Eun Jiwon stepped into the bank, well aware of the stares he received. He was smartly dressed in a black suit and tie but his Korean features made him stand out. He had come here a few times when his parents were alive and he remembered the shame he’d felt when his father had begged for an extension on his loan. The flames of anger never truly died, he realized. They just dimmed to flickering embers, ready to reignite at the proper moment.
"Can I help you?" asked one of the bank’s employees. He was an older man with silver hair and thick glasses. He regarded Eun with curiosity but not outright distrust like so many others did. A small nametag placed over his heart indicated that his name was John Mitchell.
"I work with Assistance Unlimited." Eun held out a small business card with the group’s address and logo printed on it. The logo showed an open hand, palm up, with the words Assistance Unlimited printed across it. Beneath these were the address 6196 Robeson Avenue and a telephone number. "We’re currently investigating a matter concerning Lorraine Mitchell and I’d like to have access to her husband’s safety deposit box."
John Mitchell’s face fell and his eyes became guarded. "That would be my son you’re talking about. What kind of case are you working on regarding my daughter-in-law?"
"That’s private, I’m afraid."
"So is my son’s safety deposit box."
"So there is one? Mrs. Mitchell indicated that she didn’t think there was, since you hadn’t given her access to it upon your son’s death." Eun held his ground, even as John Mitchell’s demeanor became darker.
John glanced around at the other customers and employees, many of whom were watching them. He lowered his voice and took Eun by the elbow, steering him toward the vault. "My son kept a box. All of us do. Sometimes we keep things of personal or business importance in them. A lot of times, it’s not things we’d like for our wives to see."
"Is that the kinds of things in his box?"
"I don’t know. I have no clue what’s in there. But when he died, I couldn’t bring myself to look inside. It’s still too soon. My son was a disappointment to me in many ways but I loved him. When Lorraine didn’t ask about the box, I assumed he hadn’t told her about it. And if he hadn’t told her about it, then there was some reason as to why."
Eun nodded. "I understand. I promise to use discretion. Unless it’s pertinent to our case, I won’t share the details of anything I see with Mrs. Mitchell."
"I would appreciate that. Keep in mind that the only reason I’m doing this at all is because of who your employer is. That man’s done a lot of good in this town and Lord knows we need more people like him." John gestured for a guard to open up the room containing the safety deposit boxes and he led Eun inside, closing the door behind them. He walked straight toward one of the boxes and placed it on the room’s single table. After fishing out a master key from an inside pocket on his jacket, he opened the box and pushed it toward Eun. "I do hope my daughter-in-law isn’t in any kind of danger."
"That’s what we’re trying to find out," Eun admitted. He peered inside the box, finding several envelopes of varying sizes. He peered into several of them, finding handwritten notes and erotic French postcards. From the feminine scent on several of the notes, Eun guessed that Mr. Mitchell had at least one woman on the side, perhaps more. He also found nearly three thousand dollars in cash and a small handgun. All in all, it was rather typical stuff for a man who was living a double life.
But it was the contents of a small manila envelope stuffed at the bottom of the box that caused Eun to pause. There was a necklace of some kind inside, one with a gold chain and a small seven-pointed star pendant. The pendant was lined with tiny diamonds, causing it to glitter brightly in the light. It was very old and Eun knew that it was probably priceless. On the back of the pendant were a series of minuscule hieroglyphics.
John Mitchell stood a few feet away, obviously unwilling to look into the box himself. Perhaps, Eun mused, he was afraid to find out what his son might have been involved in. "Did you find anything?"
Eun held up the necklace. "Have you ever seen this before?"
"No, I haven’t." John moved forward, staring at the pendant. "I know he recently purchased a mummy. I wonder if that came with it?"
Eun dropped the necklace into a pocket and pushed the box back toward Mr. Mitchell. "I’ll take it with me so Lazarus can look at it. If it turns out that it’s not related, I’ll see that it’s returned here."
"Can’t you tell me what’s going on?"
Hesitating, Eun considered opening up to the man. It was obvious that despite whatever problems he might have had with his son, he did love him and that extended to his widow as well. Lazarus hadn’t specifically told him to hold his cards close to the vest but Eun knew what his employer would do in this situation and he elected to follow suit. "I’m sorry. Rest assured that we’re doing all that we can."
Eun spun about and exited the room, aware of the necklace’s weight in his pocket. It was far heavier th
an he would have expected. Somehow, this was tied into the mystery of the mummy and he was willing to bet that Lazarus would be able to figure out how.
***
Samantha tried to not feel slighted as she waited for the transatlantic call to go through. Every member of the Assistance Unlimited squad was given equal preference when it came to the jobs they performed and this sometimes meant getting stuck with nothing more exciting than talking to someone on the phone. Samantha knew it was an important task but she still ached to be out in the field, where the danger truly lay. It wasn’t that she was addicted to the excitement, but she certainly enjoyed the rush that came with surviving a near fatal encounter.
Of all four of them, she was the only one with family still living. Eun’s parents had been murdered, Morgan’s were long gone and Lazarus… well, poor Lazarus wouldn’t have known if he had a wife and kids somewhere. His memory of his life before waking up in Sovereign City was a jumble of confusing images and sounds. It sounded awful to Samantha and she often wondered how lonely he must be.
She sighed, trying to talk herself away from this line of thinking. Lazarus wasn’t the most romantic of men but there was something about him that enticed her. She hoped it wasn’t simply the pity factor but she couldn’t discount that. She did feel the urge to mend his broken heart.
And then there was Morgan. She felt badly for having slapped him but couldn’t bring herself to apologize.
She was so lost in thought that it took her a few seconds to realize there was a man on the line now, repeatedly saying hello in a distinctly British voice: "I say, is there anyone there?"
"Is this James Garmont?"
"Yes, it is! And to whom am I speaking, young lady?"
"Samantha Grace of Sovereign City."
"Ah! The little girl of Sheridan and Amanda? I met your parents years ago at a charity get together. Never forgot them. Such a charming, good-humored set of people! What can I do for you, love?"
Samantha paused. Garmont knew her parents? Did Lazarus know that? If so, it explained why he wanted her to handle this call. Sometimes the things he knew bordered on the supernatural. "They speak highly of you as well," she lied. "I’m calling to ask you about Mr. Mitchell. He visited you not long ago and purchased a mummy, didn’t he?"
"I believe he did, yes." Samantha fought the urge to stare at the phone. All the good nature had faded abruptly from Garmont’s voice. He sounded quite brusque, in fact. "Terrible pity about his death. I heard about it from mutual friends. Give my best to his wife, will you?"
"Please," Samantha said, sensing that he was close to hanging up the phone. "His wife is at her wit’s end. She says the mummy is talking to her and moving about. Every third night, it screams at midnight. I know how it must sound but I’m trying to help her. Did anything unusual ever happen with the mummy while you owned it?"
Garmont sighed and it was such a weary sound that Samantha felt a surge of sympathy for him. She could hear him sit down heavily. "That thing has been nothing but a terror. I tried to talk him out of taking it but he wouldn’t listen. He was obsessed with her, just like I was." Samantha said nothing, sensing that he would continue in his own time. "I collected the things, mummies I mean. I bought a few and enjoyed showing them off to blokes from the pub. It was good for a laugh now and again. But then a gypsy came knocking on my door one day… I nearly had the help drive her away, she stank so fiercely and you can’t trust them, you know? They’ll steal you blind if you let them. But she told me she had heard I liked mummies. She said she had one and she was special. So I walked out to her wagon and took a look. Even all dried up and swathed in bandages, she was beautiful. I could feel it in my loins." Garmont’s voice trailed away. "I’m sorry, Miss. That’s not proper, is it?"
"It’s okay. Please go on."
"Well I bought her, of course. And the gypsy told me that she was a princess named Femi. She also told me that what made Femi so special was that she wasn’t truly dead. She slept in some sort of awful twilight haze. As long as you kept the seven-starred pendant in the same house, she wouldn’t wake up. Move it far enough away, though, and she’d start to revive. It would be slight, at first, but every three days she’d get a little stronger, until at last she was warm and gorgeous again."
"There’s a necklace, you say?"
"Yes. I gave it to Mitchell, though I suspect he did the same thing I did. He eventually wanted to see what would happen if she woke up. I had her for nearly three months before I gave in to temptation. There was something about her corpse that made me weak." Garmont’s voice became strained and even over the distant phone connection, she knew he was crying. "I buried the pendant out in the garden and then waited. Every three days, she got a little stronger… until finally she came to me and her hips were alabaster white and her breasts were full and ripe. She had raven black hair and almond eyes. She tore at her cloth coverings until all of her sex was exposed and she took me right there on the floor. It was… it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. She was in control the entire time and she took me… like she was claiming me." Garmont grew silent and Samantha almost thought she’d lost the connection when he continued. "When I woke up, I found her in the kitchen. She’d killed the butler and eaten his heart. I ran screaming but they were all dead: the maid, her daughter, even the dogs. All ripped apart by my princess. She came to me again and the Lord knows I’m not sure if she planned to kill me to… or take me back to her bed."
"What did you do?"
"I ran to the garden and dug up the necklace with my bare hands. Once I had it, she returned to her sleep. Her skin went dry and the blood dried up inside her, turning to dust. Any time I felt tempted by her, I’d remember what she did."
"When she was waking up from her sleep… did she scream anything at you?"
"Oh, good heavens, yes. God is dead. Every night. The gypsy told me that the gods of ancient Egypt had punished her. She’d been part of a cult that believed the gods were all dead and gone, that their hold on the people should no longer be enforced. The gods punished her by transforming her into what she is now and the knowledge of that keeps her angry. She shouts her fury at them every chance she gets."
Samantha realized that she should have been writing all of this down. No worries, she thought, there’s no way I’m forgetting any of this. "How and why did Mr. Mitchell end up with her?"
"I’d put her and the other mummies in the attic. I’d like to say I’d forgotten all about her but that would be a lie. She haunted me. Even now, I can still feel her lips against mine and the heat of her breath on my neck. When Mitchell came to visit, it was around the time that I was gathering things up for the church rummage sale. I asked him to help me bring down an old box of clothes from the attic and while we were up there, he saw the pile of mummies. I could tell how interested he was and I have to admit that I shared the story quite freely. I didn’t hide the danger from him, though. I knew it wouldn’t matter if I did. He was smitten, just like I had been. And I wanted her out of my house. So when he asked if he could buy her, I was more than happy to take his money. I shouldn’t have done it, I know that. I knew the risks for my friend but I was a bloody coward!"
Samantha pressed on, sensing that Garmont was near his breaking point. "All we have to do is find the necklace and bring it close to her? Then she goes back to sleep?"
"Yes…." Samantha thanked him and hung hurriedly. If she’d waited just a second longer, she might have heard something of vital importance. Garmont continued speaking, not having heard her goodbye. "But you have to watch out for Them. They’ll be drawn to her and they’ll do whatever they can to make sure you don’t interfere with her resurrection. Miss Grace?"
Garmont stared at the phone in horror. He’d been so caught up in recounting his sins that he hadn’t told her about Them. How could he have been so stupid?
***
For a dead woman, she looked pretty good. Morgan stood in front of Princess Femi, his eyes traveling the lines of her body for the umpte
enth time. The linen hid her face and there was ripeness to her scent but even in her dried out state, there were hints that in life she had possessed the kind of figure that would have set the hearts and minds of men aflame.
"You look like my husband, the way you stare at her." Lorraine stood behind him in the doorway to the cluttered study. She had two glasses of wine in her hands and she slowly stepped forward to offer one to Morgan. He accepted it with a rakish smile. "What is it about her that holds men in thrall?"
"Can’t put my finger on it," Morgan answered. He sipped the wine and his grin widened. This was good stuff, much better than anything he could usually afford. "Thanks for this," he said, holding up the glass.
"You’re welcome, Mr. Watts."
"Call me Morgan."
"Only if you call me Lorraine."
Morgan noticed the look in her eyes and he recognized what might be happening here. She’d been trapped in a marriage of convenience and now that she was free, all those pent-up desires were being amped up by the danger she’d found herself in. It was a dangerous cocktail, especially where Morgan was concerned.
Clearing his throat, Morgan took a large gulp of the wine and set the glass aside. "I better start examining her."
Lorraine looked slightly perturbed but said nothing. She sat down on a small couch nearby and watched him approach Femi. She leaned back and her breasts strained against the fabric of her white dress. Morgan tried to ignore her. Not that long ago, he would have gladly accepted her unspoken invitation. But these days, he was a valued member of Assistance Unlimited and he had a job to do.
And there was also the matter of Samantha. Sure, she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in romance but it still felt like cheating to consider going to Lorraine Mitchell’s bed.
