Stolen Souls

by Sackett, Jeffrey

  "You mean you have the medicine I need?" Will seemed still a bit dubious, but he was becoming filled with desperate hope, hope that all the frightening things he had been contemplating—hospitals, chemotherapy, injections—would all be unnecessary.

  "Oh, yes, indeed. As I said, I always bring an ample supply with me."

  "Have you ever gotten this yourself? I mean, you say that you do this archeological stuff a lot."

  "Yes, yes, a dozen times. It is no more dangerous or uncommon in my country than—what is it called—poison shrubbery—"

  "Poison ivy?"

  "Ah, yes, poison ivy. No more serious than that, when treated promptly. When did you first notice a problem?"

  "Yesterday, I guess, when—" His eyes opened wide. "Hey, right after I touched that mummy. Holy shit, that's right! Right after I touched that mummy!"

  "Yes, of course. It is obvious." Hadji placed his hand amicably upon Will's shoulder. "Why don't you come with me to get the salve? Proper application will return you to health in two days, three days at the very most."

  There was still a residue of suspicion. "Well, I don't know. Dr. Sawhill—"

  Hadji silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Please. Allow me to do this for you to make up for my deplorable behavior of yesterday. The good doctor can do nothing for you because he is unfamiliar with the disease. I have been dealing with it for years."

  "Well—"

  "Please allow me to do this one service for you, allow me to restore the dignity I have lost."

  Will Foster surrendered to his hopes and fears. "Okay, sure. You say it's a salve?"

  "Yes," Hadji replied, leading Foster in the direction of the parking lot, "an ointment with an antibiotic base, mixed with certain other substances. I can't be terribly specific, because I am not a pharmacologist, but I can personally attest to its effectiveness."

  "This is incredible. Thank God you're around, Mr. Hadji. I was gonna go into the hospital tonight."

  "Yes, it is fortunate that we happened to meet again. The physicians at the hospital would eventually have discovered the nature of your malady, but not before permanent damage had been done. Another day and you would have been permanently scarred."

  "But now there's no problem, right? I mean, now I can be completely cured, right?"

  "Yes, yes, it is still early in the progress of the infection," Hadji said, smiling as he held open the door of his rented car for Will. As Will climbed awkwardly into the passenger seat, he added, "The salve may sting a bit, but I can assure you that the discomfort will be minimal."

  "Jesus, that's great," Will sighed. "That's great."

  Hadji started the car and began to drive slowly out of the parking lot and out onto the street. He smiled reassuringly at Will. "Just relax, my friend. Soon all your troubles will be over." Will returned his smile, looking pathetically like a dog which had just been tossed a steak.

  Stupid idiot, Hadji thought as he began to drive down the main street of Greenfield. Ignorant ass. Praise be to the gods that they have not presented me with adversaries possessing more intelligence. They are so easy to fool, so easy to trick, so easy to

  Hadji's arrogant self-satisfaction dissipated when he noticed the police car in the rearview mirror. Damnation! he thought to himself. They are keeping me under surveillance. I should have realized that they would keep their prime suspect under their watchful eyes. He looked over at Will Foster, who was absently stroking his numb right cheek with his left hand. I must not allow anything to interfere with this day's task, Hadji thought. I must lose this fool of a policeman.

  A few car lengths back, close enough to Hadji to indicate that no effort was being made to be inconspicuous, Gus Rudd peered through the car windshield at the subject of his surveillance. He took a cigarette from his pocket and pushed the lighter in on the dashboard. I wonder who Hadji has in there with him? he thought. Looked a little like Will from a distance, but it couldn't be Will. Ridiculous idea! Whoever that is up there looks like an old cripple.

  Gus's chest had swelled with importance when Jasper told him to tail Hadji. Gus was constantly trying to live up to the expectations which his older brother had of him, and he usually failed. Not this time, he thought with determination. Not this time, Jas. I'll stick to this Arab guy like flypaper.

  The two cars drove down the streets of Greenfield at a slow and steady rate of speed. Hadji was making no attempt to engage in a heated car chase, for he had insufficient confidence in his driving abilities. He also dared not risk the life of Will Foster, nor his own, until such time as the odds were more in his favor. That would be very soon, if all went as planned.

  He pulled into the parking lot of the motor inn and drove as far to the rear of the lot as possible. He turned to Will and said, "I must make a quick stop here to confer with one of my associates."

  "Oh. You got a friend here with you?"

  "Not a friend," Hadji smiled amicably. "A local antique dealer I know is staying here at the moment. I shan't be long. Please wait and be patient."

  "Yeah, yeah, sure. Hurry up, though, okay?"

  Hadji patted Foster's left hand comfortingly. "Of course I shall." He got out of the car and was halfway to the parking lot entrance when Gus Rudd turned in to the entrance way. Hadji walked quickly over to the police car, hoping to prevent the policeman from driving close enough to his own car to see who was in it. If he doesn't know already, Hadji thought glumly. If this occidental ass has recognized his friend, I must eliminate him before he can report this to the other policeman. Complications, complications, Hadji thought. If only I had been able to get to England before….

  "Hello again, officer," Hadji said to Gus. His voice was proper, but no one would have read any cooperative friendliness into his tone. "May I ask why you have been following me?"

  Gus Rudd alighted from the car and attempted to swagger in the same way his brother did. "You know why, Mr. Hadji. Don't bother to try to get smart. Where's that mummy you stole?"

  Hadji folded his arms and allowed annoyance to fill his tone. "I believe I've already discussed this with your superior. Am I to assume that you intend to subject me to harassment of this sort for the duration of my stay here?"

  "Ain't no law against keeping an eye on a murder suspect, Mr. Hadji. And you can't call that harassment." Gus squinted down the parking lot at Hadji's car. "Who you got in there?"

  He didn't get a good enough look at him to recognize him! Hadji thought with relief. He said, "Who? Oh, Khalid! That's my secretary."

  "Secretary! Looked like an old cripple to me."

  "Khalid is elderly, and he has arthritis. Is that illegal in this country?"

  "Don't be smart, Mr. Hadji. I think I'd better have a word or two with him."

  Thinking fast, Hadji said, "Before or after you search my rooms?"

  "I know the law, Mr. Hadji. We'll search your rooms, but we're gonna get a search warrant first. Jasper's probably calling Judge McCormick right now."

  Hadji waved his hand as if irritated at the thought. "Listen, my friend, I wish to dispense with these formalities and get all of us back to our proper tasks, which I hope will lead us to the stolen exhibit. I have to help my old secretary out of the car and bring him back to our rooms. I'll meet you in the lobby of this—this so-called hotel. You have my permission to search my dwelling, even without a warrant."

  "But—"

  "Please, officer, we are all wasting time! Meet me in the lobby, we'll go upstairs, you can question Khalid and conduct your search. All right?"

  Gus nodded. "Yeah, yeah, okay. That'll save time." Make me look good to Jasper, too, he thought.

  A few moments later, Gus Rudd was standing in the hotel lobby, watching with anger and shock as he saw Ahmed Hadji's car speeding out of the parking lot. "Goddamn it!" he shouted, running outside to his own car. He started the engine and tried to screech off in hot pursuit, but the wobbly flapping he heard told him that Hadji had let the air out of his tires. He repressed an urge to cry. Jasper's
gonna kill me, he thought.

  The patrol car radio came alive with a burst of static and Jasper's voice boomed out, "Gus? You there?"

  Oh, well, here we go, Gus thought dejectedly. He pulled the radio microphone free from its holder and pressed in the button on the side. "I'm here, Jasper."

  "How's it going?"

  "I followed him to the motor inn, but"—oh, shit—"then he gave me the slip."

  "He what!? Goddamn it, Gus!"

  "I'm sorry, Jasper, honest to God I am. The son of a bitch tricked me, said he was gonna let me search his room without a warrant, and—"

  "Never mind, never mind. You can tell me about it later. Damn it all, Gus! How the hell could you lose somebody in a town this size!"

  "Jeeze, Jasper, I'm sorry."

  "Hold on." The radio went dead for a moment, and then Gus heard Jasper's voice say, "I got Doc Sawhill here. He seems to have lost Will."

  "Huh?"

  "Will was with the doc, and he seems to have wandered off. You seen him anywhere?"

  "No, not since last night. Why?"

  "Doc says he's sick. Gotta go to the hospital. You didn't see him outside when I told you to go follow Hadji?"

  "No, nobody was there when I went outside. Of course, I was watching Hadji pretty close. He was getting into his car by the time I got out there."

  "Yeah, you were watching him pretty close, I'm sure," Jasper spat. "Get your ass back here, on the double." Gus stared at the now silent radio and sighed. Then he got out of the car and began to change the tire.

  On the other side of town, Ahmed Hadji repressed an urge to laugh. Praise the gods that they have given me the good fortune of having to deal with fools. He grinned with satisfaction at the effectiveness of his actions thus far. He had known that no clues would be found connecting him to the theft of the body of the Lord Sekhemib, or with the murders of the ass of a British lawyer and the obsequious cretin at the real estate office. He had covered his tracks well, renting a room at the motor inn, renting this car, making it safe for him to appear at the museum today. His well-rehearsed shock at the disappearance of the mummy was convincing enough for his purposes, and by the time the local police discovered that his diplomatic passport had been forged, he would be long gone. Only being followed right now would have been a problem, but fortune had provided an idiot for a pursuer.

  He glanced over at Will Foster and smiled. He almost pitied him. Almost, but not quite.

  They soon pulled into the driveway of Mrs. March's house. "Wait, let me assist you," he said to Will as he got out of the car and ran around to the passenger side. He opened the door and helped Will out of the car. "Now, let us go in and attend to your problem."

  "Great," Will said. "Hey, what was Gus doing at that motor inn?"

  "Eh? Oh—oh, he wished to speak to my business associate about the antiquities which were stolen."

  "Oh, sure. That makes sense." Will straightened up painfully beside the car. "Hey, isn't this old lady March's house? You're staying here?"

  "Yes, I am renting a room for a week or so, just until this unpleasantness can be resolved."

  "You mean about who owns those mummies? Well, no offense, Mr. Hadji, but you better not get your hopes up. I got to tell you, Professor Langly ain't gonna give them up without a fight."

  "Yes, yes, well we can allow your courts to make that decision. I only regret that I was so impolite to the lady yesterday." He helped Will mount the three steps leading to the front door and then unlocked it and led him inside. He pushed the door shut and locked it quickly. Hadji felt a surge of anticipatory excitement well up in him. "My luggage is downstairs in the basement. Can you make it down the steps, my good fellow?"

  Will was dismayed. "Can't you bring the medicine up? My legs ain't working too good."

  "I'd rather not," Hadji said apologetically. "Exposure to sunlight reduces the potency of the ointment. We certainly don't want to take any chances with your recovery, do we?"

  "Hell no!" Will exclaimed. "Anything you say, man! You know about this fuckin' disease, not me."

  "Fine, fine. Follow me." Hadji led him to the basement door. "I'll go down first. You follow at your own pace, but take your time, be careful."

  "Okay. I think I can manage it, Mr. Hadji."

  "Very good." Hadji bounded down the steps to the basement and Will followed, slowly and hesitantly. Hadji stood waiting at the base of the steps, holding out a helping hand and largely blocking Will's view of the interior of the basement. "Here, please sit down in this chair."

  "It's kinda dark down here, ain't it? Ain't there no lights?"

  "Oh, my goodness, of course there are! Let's just sit you down in this chair and then I'll get the lights." Will saw a chair in front of him, dim in the darkness, and he managed to turn himself around and drop into it. "Excellent!" Hadji said happily. With a quick motion he snapped the handcuff shut upon Will's left hand. The other end of the cuff had already been affixed to the arm of the chair.

  "Wha—what the hell are you doing?"

  Hadji did not reply. Instead he reached around behind the chair and drew forth one end of a rope, which he pulled across Will's stomach and then tied to the back of the chair. He stood back and smiled contentedly. Then he said, "What am I doing? What do you think I am doing?"

  "Where's the ointment? My condition—"

  Hadji laughed. "You are so incredibly stupid, you empty-headed idiot. Did you seriously believe that I intended to help cure you? Do you actually think that there is an ointment or a holachmay bacterium?" Hadji giggled idiotically. "Such a fool! Such a fool!"

  The realization that he had been tricked infuriated Will. He struggled against his bonds, but with only one half of his body able to move his struggle was futile. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" he shouted. "I'll tear your fuckin' head off!"

  "Oh, will you now?" Hadji asked pleasantly. "We'll see about that." He reached out and snapped on the light.

  Will looked in front of him and saw the mummy of Sekhemib lying on the floor upon a small rug. "You took it! You took Professor Langly's exhibit!"

  "Of course I did. That would be obvious to anyone. Even your thickheaded policeman suspects me. It was something of a risk for me to return to—the scene of the crime, shall we say? But I had to find you, and I had no other way to track you down. It was a stroke of fortune for me that you happened to be there just now. You've saved me from quite a troublesome search."

  "You had to find me! What the hell for?"

  "Why, for this, of course," Hadji replied. "You are singularly honored, my friend. You are about to perform a great service." Hadji laughed and walked over to the mummy. He reached down and slipped the chain with the medallion over the mummy's head, carefully and reverently lifting the stiff body slightly to allow the chain to move past the skull. "Allow me to prepare you," he said to Will. Hadji turned to Will and placed the chain over his head so that the medallion rested upon his chest.

  "You let me go," Will shouted. "Help! Help!"

  "Yes indeed, shout for help. No one can hear you in this basement. And very soon you won't be able to shout."

  Will's anger was being replaced by fear. "Look, man, I'm sorry I slugged you in the mouth, okay? I didn't mean it. I'm really sorry, okay?"

  "Certainly," Hadji smiled. "I accept your apology. Now please be quiet." Will continued to struggle and plead, but Hadji ignored him. He struck a match and held it to what looked like a saucer, and the oil in the primitive lamp began to burn, casting flickering shadows upon the walls of the basement. The flickering became all the more pronounced when Hadji switched off the electric lights.

  "Let me go!" Will yelled. Tears began to stream down his cheeks, but still Ahmed Hadji ignored him.

  Hadji knelt before the mummy of Sekhemib and bowed, his arms crossed upon his chest. Then he lowered his head and raised his arms outward with the palms facing away from him and the fingers pointing up. "Anethrauthen neteru," he chanted. "Anet hrauthen 'Anpu." Homage to thee, O gods.
Homage to thee, Anubis. "Anethrak Sekhemib, ab 'Anpuf, neterkhen ua amth abu." Homage to thee, Sekhemib, priest of Anubis, prophet of the priests.

  "Let me go," Will wept softly.

  "Anet hrak Sekhemib. Aua Ahmed Hadji abu Tekhutif rexkuak, rexkua renk." Homage to thee, Sekhemib. I, Ahmed Hadji, priest of Thoth, know thy name. "Tekenu enti khenak. luk enn tem sekhauk, iuk em arauk." The tekenu is with thee. Come thou to us without memories of evil, come thou to us in thy form. "Auk er khekh en khekh, akha khekh." Thou shalt live for millions of years, a life of millions of years.

  Will Foster felt a sudden stabbing pain in his chest. The medallion which dangled from the chain around his neck seemed to be growing warm. A slow but steady vibration began to arise from the golden circle, and Will became aware of what felt like gentle electric shocks coursing from the medallion to his body. He tried to pull his left hand free from the handcuff but found that it was now as immobile as his right. He tried to move his left leg. It was useless. The same numbing cold which he had first noticed the day before, which had afflicted first his right hand, then his right arm, then his right leg, was spreading over his entire body. He felt his heart pounding wildly and the tremors of fear which shook his frame still imparted sensation, but there was no surface feeling whatsoever. It was as if his entire body was covered with a thick layer of dead skin.

  "Anet hrak Sekhemib," Hadji repeated in his high, chanting voice. "'Aua Ahmed Hadji abu Tekhutif rexkuak, rexkua renk."

  Will was whimpering through his tears. No words escaped his lips, only pathetic little cries. He blinked his eyes repeatedly as they filled with the warm, salty liquid, trying to maintain his focus on the room which had begun to blur and spin around him. He could not be certain of what he saw, but there appeared to be a steadily growing band of light pulsating somewhere in the room. He tried to shake his head, but was able merely to effect a slow, almost languid motion. It was sufficient to clear his vision temporarily, and he saw that the band of light, which fluctuated between a faint luminescence and an almost dazzling brilliance, which glowed dull red as it faded and bright yellow as it intensified, seemed to be stretching from the head of the mummy on the floor to the center of the medallion which dangled from the chain around Will's neck.