Stolen Souls

by Sackett, Jeffrey

  The old cafeteria of WinthropCollege was one of the few stone buildings at the school. The incinerator smokestack rose up from behind the low, narrow structure with the ornately carved coats of arms (whose, no one seemed to know) in stone above the heavy oak doors. Sawhill pulled the door open and held it for Harriet and Sam.

  They entered the cafeteria and made their selections of food and drink. She was going to limit herself to orange juice and toast, but Sawhill heaped some scrambled eggs and sausages onto her plate as well. There was no waiting line. Indeed, no one else was in the cafeteria other than the cook and the two student servers. This was to be expected, of course. No college student in his right mind would be up at seven o'clock in the morning unless he had to, or unless he had not yet been to bed since the previous night.

  "So tell me about the mummies," Sam said as they sat down at one of the long wooden tables.

  "I've already told you everything I know about them," Harriet replied, buttering her toast.

  "I know, but I like to hear your voice. So tell me again." He poured some milk into his tea and stirred it.

  She laughed and shook her head. "Wait a few weeks, and you can attend my lecture on them." She bit off a piece of toast, ignoring the eggs which she had not wanted in the first place. "I found out a few things about the earls of Selwyn, though."

  "Tell us, by all means."

  "Well," she said, swallowing, "I looked up the name, the title, I mean, in Brookfield's Heraldic Registry. The first Earl of Selwyn was a falconer for King Henry II. I suppose the family name, Fowles, comes from that."

  "When was Henry II?" Sawhill asked, sipping his coffee. "Late twelfth century." They looked impressed. "I suppose you could consider it an old family."

  "You don't?!" Goldhaber was mildly surprised.

  She smiled. "The word old has a different meaning to an Egyptologist than it does to most people. Anyway, one of the earls—the eleventh one, I think—was a British representative in Egypt during the early nineteenth century, maybe late eighteenth. I forget."

  "Some historian," Sawhill chided. "No memory for dates."

  "The British were interested in Egypt, the Suez area, ever since they established themselves in India during the 1700s," she said, ignoring Tom's remark. "It's a natural trade route, and an ideal place for a canal. That's one reason that Napoleon invaded Egypt." She took another bite of toast. "Try to strangle trade with the east."

  "And this earl was the one who first brought the mummies :o public attention?"

  She shook her head. "No one ever brought them to public mention. I'm assuming that he's the one who brought them back to England, but there has never been any mention made of them anywhere, by anyone, anytime."

  "Well, that's damned peculiar!" Goldhaber said.

  "Sure is, but it's a hell of a break for us," Harriet replied through a full mouth. "It means that they've never been examined, never been photographed. God knows what kinds of information we might be able to obtain from investigating them. Oh, I know that the chances of anything of great importance coming out of this is remote to say the least, but every bit of knowledge, no matter how small—" She stopped abruptly, blushing slightly.

  Goldhaber turned to Sawhill and laughed. "She's just realized that she's launched into the same harangue that she hit me with a few months ago when she came begging for the money to buy her mummies." He patted her hand paternally. "She was right then and she's right now."

  "Well, it's true," she muttered, amused but slightly defensive. "And don't forget, this is a good bit of publicity for the school. What do they call it in politics—a photo opportunity? Well, when we officially unveil the exhibits, we'll have photographers and reporters all over the place."

  "Don't fantasize about that aspect of it too much," Sawhill warned. "It isn't like a major archeological find."

  "Oh, I know that, Tommy, but it doesn't have to be. All it as to be is unusual to attract the press. And it certainly is unusual."

  "Yes," Goldhaber agreed. "It is the publicity aspect of it which sold the idea to the board of trustees. Of course they all protest their devotion to the advancement of knowledge, but they are all practical people, business people. I doubt we could have gotten the money from them to buy a regular old run-of-the-mill mummy about which nothing remains to be learned."

  "True," Harriet said, "though I take issue with your term, 'run-of-the-mill mummy.' No mummy is run of the mill. Each and every one of them is a priceless piece of our human heritage."

  "You're starting to lecture, Professor." Sawhill laughed.

  "I'm serious, Tom." She pushed the plate with the uneaten eggs and sausages away from her. "And we should remember that they are more than exhibits. Oh, I know that I call them that too, but they were human beings once, living people. They loved and laughed and wept, they had parents, friends, children, hopes and dreams. We're waiting for seven people to arrive here today."

  Harriet's intensity had been one of the things which first attracted Sawhill to her, and he smiled slightly at the quiet thoughtfulness which underlay her last statement. "I'm sorry, Harriet," he said. "I wasn't being flippant. I understand what you're saying, and you say it very well."

  "Well, they're ours, in any event," Goldhaber said. "And I'm sure that we will make the most of them."

  "I can hardly wait to examine them," Harriet said eagerly. "Do you realize that this will be the first time I'll have the opportunity to examine an Egyptian artifact which hasn't already been worked over by dozens of other people? If there is a funerary text inscribed on the coffins, I may even be able to publish a recension and a translation." She paused. "If it's something new, of course."

  "Wait a minute," Sawhill interjected. "Didn't you tell me that you went on an archeological dig in Egypt?"

  "Oh, sure. About eight years ago."

  "Didn't you have the opportunity—"

  "No, no," she interrupted. "We didn't find anything, really. The site had been worked on. Egypt has been combed by archeologists for well over a century. I can't help but think that the major finds have all been found."

  The cafeteria door opened as Harriet was speaking, and Jasper Rudd, the town's chief of police, sauntered in. "Mornin', folks," he said cheerfully.

  "Hello, Chief," Harriet and Goldhaber said simultaneously.

  "Jasper!" Sawhill exclaimed. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

  "There's nothing wrong, is there?" Goldhaber asked, suddenly the concerned college president.

  "Relax, Sam. I called him," Harriet said. "I wanted to have some armed security here when we unload the exhibits."

  "What for?" Goldhaber asked. "No one is going to try to steal the mummies."

  "That's probably true. But we are committed to an insurance policy on these exhibits, a policy which my best friend arranged for us, and I don't want to take any chances."

  "Besides," Sawhill added, "it doesn't hurt to have an officer of the law present at the delivery, just in case there is any damage."

  "Or if the exhibits are not as they were advertised or described over the phone," Harriet said. "Don't forget, this is a sight unseen purchase."

  "I hardly think the Earl of Selwyn would try to defraud the college!" Like many Americans, Goldhaber had an inbred and totally irrational respect for the titled aristocracy.

  "Not intentionally, no. But why take for granted that he or his lawyer know what they're talking about? Neither of them are archeologists."

  "Well, I suppose that's true. You don't think the Earl will take offense, do you? I mean—"

  "Oh, Sam, don't be silly!" Harriet said. "He's a man of the world. He knows the way business is conducted."

  "Of course he does," Sawhill agreed. "There's nothing wrong with having an official present at the delivery, especially since the stuff is so valuable."

  "And so heavily insured," Harriet added.

  "Right. We're not waiting for a package from UPS, you know! In fact, I think it'd be pretty unusual for there not to be a law
officer present." He slapped Jasper familiarly on the back. "And old Jasper here is our resident gendarme."

  Jasper grinned. "You see, Professor Goldhaber just gets nervous whenever he sees me. He always thinks that his college kids have been raising hell in town or something."

  "Like last year, when they painted jack-o'-lanterns on the gravestones in the cemetery for Halloween?" Harriet asked, smiling.

  "Yeah. Or when they managed to steal that statue of Winthrop during Homecoming Week."

  "Found it wearing a bra and panties, didn't you?" Sawhill asked.

  "Yeah, right in front of the MethodistChurch two days later."

  Goldhaber raised his hand to silence them. "Please, please, don't remind me of all this. You'll give me ulcers!"

  Jasper laughed. "Don't worry about it, Professor. Old Doc Sawhill can fix you up if that happens. Just take it easy and let me get the ulcers."

  This elicited a wave of laughter from all present, for no one was less prone to nervous tension than Jasper Rudd. Though he and Sawhill called each other Chief and Doc most of the time, they had known each other most of their lives, and Sawhill knew that the statue of Montgomery Winthrop had a better chance of developing ulcers than had Jasper.

  Jasper Rudd was a bit older than Thomas Sawhill, and they had come to know each other decades before through Jasper's younger brother Gus. Growing up as they had in a small town, everyone of course knew everyone else, but Sawhill had always enjoyed Jasper's company in particular. He had even worried about him when Jasper was drafted and shipped off to Vietnam while Sawhill rested comfortably behind a student deferment. He had no such worries for Gus when the latter joined the navy a few years later.

  Sawhill and Jasper lost touch with each other after that, for while the doctor finished medical school and went into practice in his home town, Jasper moved to New York City and joined the police force. He spent twenty years on the force before retiring on a comfortable pension and moving back to Greenfield. But at age forty he was really much too young to retire, and he jumped at the chance to become the town's chief of police when old Chief Gutersloh retired. His two years in Vietnam, coupled with his twenty years as a New York City cop, had prepared him for almost anything. Jasper Rudd took everything in stride. Nothing bothered him.

  Indeed, after his experiences in Southeast Asia, the South Bronx, Manhattan and Brooklyn, Jasper tended to regard his job as chief of the Greenfield police force as something of a paid vacation. He only had one other officer to supervise, and that was his brother Gus. He had taken the job in Greenfield casually, a nice retirement job for a man not really of retirement age. He spent most of his time walking around town and talking to the residents or playing cards in the police station with Gus and Will Foster. Sure, he had to roust a drunk now and then, and the college kids were always up to some mischief or other, but to a man with Jasper's urban experience this barely even qualified as law enforcement.

  "I appreciate your getting up so early to come and supervise, Chief." Harriet smiled.

  "No problem, Miss Langly. I'm an early riser anyway. Always used to work the early morning shifts back in the City." Jasper looked over at the student server, who was lounging tiredly behind the empty cafeteria service area. "Hey, sonny. Bring me a cup of coffee, will you?" He sat down at the table beside Goldhaber.

  "You're supposed to serve yourself, Jasper," Sam observed. "This is a cafeteria."

  Jasper Rudd shrugged. "Never knew a college kid who didn't want to be on the good side of a cop." He smiled. "Besides, a cup of coffee ain't much of a bribe."

  "How did you know we'd be here?" Harriet asked. "I asked you to meet us at the museum at seven."

  "I know, I went there. Left Gus there to wait for Will's truck. I figured you'd be here"—he shot an amused glance at Sawhill—"moochin' a free meal, so I came over to join you."

  "How come you came over so early?"

  The student walked over and handed Jasper a cup of coffee. "Thanks, sonny," he said. "I ain't early. It's seven-thirty."

  "Seven-thirty!" Harriet looked at her watch. "Good grief! Where the hell are they?"

  "Come on, now," Goldhaber said. "Knowing Will Foster, when they stopped for breakfast he sat down to clean the diner out of pancakes."

  "Sure, honey. Try to calm down. They'll get here when they get here. Maybe they hit traffic. Maybe the Earl wanted to sightsee."

  "Sightsee! Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing to see on the New York State Thruway!"

  "Not to you, maybe, but to somebody from another country there might be sights of interest." Sawhill paused and considered his suggestion. "On the other hand—"

  "The thruway is just a big long road." She felt her anxiety beginning to surface. "God, I hope that nothing—"

  Goldhaber and Sawhill laughed gently. Jasper just smiled. "Don't worry, Miss Langly," the policeman said. "Will's a reliable man. The stuff'll get here safe, soon enough."

  "Yeah, I'm sure it will," Harriet nodded. "I can't help but be a little tense. I know I'm being silly."

  "You're not silly, honey," Sawhill said. "You're just showing appropriate professional concern."

  She smiled at him, but glanced furtively at her watch once again. Get here! she thought, as if a mental command could speed them on their way. Get here! She kept the smile on her face as her stomach slowly began to tie itself up in knots.

  CHAPTER 3

  "So damned inconvenient!" Roderick Fowles, fifteenth Earl of Selwyn, was saying as he stared out the window of Will Foster's truck, watching the endless line of trees speed by on the thruway roadside. "I shall sack that idiot Pearson straightaway, you mark my words!"

  "It really wasn't his fault, Your Lordship," Suzanne Melendez said. "When you told him you wanted to come to the States with the exhibits, he must have assumed that you wanted to go to Greenfield with them."

  "I told the old fool that I wanted to go to Orlando!"

  "Yes, and you will, as soon as all the paperwork is done at the Museum and you've had a day or two to rest up. You can't enjoy Disney World when you have jet lag."

  "But three days!" Roderick shook his head. "I just can't believe that there were no available seats on a plane to Orlando."

  "You do have a reservation, Your Lordship, for next Wednesday. And you'll enjoy Disney World much more if you've gotten some rest."

  "Yes, but really! I told that idiot at the airport who I was. Why didn't he just chuck someone off the reservation list?"

  Suzanne laughed. "I'm afraid that you won't find too many Irish Americans who are impressed with your title. And it is the peak season to Florida."

  "Yes, but really!" Roderick was furious. He had never had to bow to the necessity of waiting his turn for anything except his peerage, and he was not reacting well.

  Suzanne patted his hand sympathetically. "I promise, Your Lordship, that I'll personally escort you on a tour of Disney World. Okay?" She smiled. The act of patting his hand had nothing in truth to do with sympathy. Any excuse she could find to touch him, she seized upon as a cat might leap upon a mouse. Her overtures would have been obvious to anyone less obtuse than Roderick.

  He turned to Will Foster, who was watching the road intently as he drove, doing his best to ignore the Earl, to whom he had taken an immediate dislike. "I say, Foster, are you certain it takes that long to drive to Florida?"

  "Two days, easy. Three, if you drive normal."

  "Damn!" Roderick sniffed petulantly. This evidence of the frustration of expected privilege endeared him to Suzanne. It made Will Foster want to pull over and throw him out of the truck.

  Will was a virile and independent twenty-five, and he made no secret of the fact that he thought Roderick was a "namby-pamby mama's boy fag," which is how he referred to him when speaking privately to Suzanne. Will Foster was a physical, not intellectual, young man, and his frequent fistfights . were among the major reasons behind his expulsion from WinthropCollege seven years earlier. (The fact that his grade-point average rarely met the m
inimum required for continued matriculation did not help, either.) He had managed to remain in Greenfield by getting a job as a groundskeeper at the college, and this allowed him to remain in an environment he had come to like while earning a living at physical outdoor tasks. He was healthy, young, confident, outgoing, uncomplicated.

  This background and personality made him all the more disgusted with Roderick, who lacked even the intellectual acumen which might excuse his pampered, easy-chair life. How Suzanne Melendez could find this chubby pansy attractive was beyond Will's comprehension. He stole a quick glance to his right at the woman sitting beside him in the cab of the truck. Older than he, but attractive. Long black hair, dark brown eyes, thin but not unpleasantly so. Suzanne Melendez struck Will Foster as a sexually aggressive career woman, someone too preoccupied with her job to commit herself to a relationship with any one man. He glanced down at her long legs, ran his eyes up her lithe form and wondered what she would be like in bed.

  His opinion partook partially of truth, but the reality of Suzanne Melendez was something a man like Will Foster could never understand. She was indeed devoted to her career, but her unattached status was similar in origin to the problems her friend Harriet Langly had always faced, until she met Thomas Sawhill. Suzanne was unwilling to take a backseat to anyone, and her dislike of the demand so many men had made that she surrender her career goals and subordinate her life to theirs had made her wary of commitments. Unfortunately, it had also bred into her an assumption that sexism was present even in its absence, and she had thereby ruined a number of relationships which might have blossomed over time into the type of marriage she quite openly wished for.

  There was enough of an adolescent romantic in her nevertheless to be instantly infatuated with the Earl of Selwyn. His easy charm, dapper manner, and obvious affluence seemed suddenly of greater importance to her than the actuarial charts with which she was accustomed to spend her time. What Foster regarded as an effeminate manner was to her nothing less than the haughty confidence born of breeding and wealth. She envied both, for she had neither.