Stolen Souls

by Sackett, Jeffrey

  "Tekenu enti khenak. Iuk enn tem sekhauk, iuk em arauk," Hadji continued his trancelike chant. The tekenu is with thee. Come thou to us without memories of evil, come thou in thy form.

  Will tried once again to clear his vision by shaking his head, but his skin had become so stiff that he felt as if his body had been encased in plaster. He tensed his muscles and forced his head to move, but the motion caused the skin on his throat to blister and split with an abrupt, audible crack. As the blood began to stream out of the open slits, he saw the flesh shriveling and splitting open on his arms, and felt the same thing happening on his chest, his back, his legs, his face. His heart began beating erratically. It was becoming difficult to draw air into his decaying lungs.

  "Auk er khekh en khekh, akha khekh . . ."

  The pungent odor of urine and feces assaulted Will's bleeding nostrils at the same instant that a searing pain seemed to shoot through his midsection. As his bowels ruptured, green and brown fluids began to stream out of him in all directions, spurting at first and then flowing, mingling with the red blood which was accumulating at his feet. Pieces of dry, leathery skin were flaking off his fragmenting body as it shook in violent tremors of agony. The gray flakes drifted gently down and floated upon the rapidly spreading puddle of putrid fluids.

  "Iuk enn tem sekhauk, Sekhemib! Iuk em arauk, Sekhemib! luk em arauk, Sekhemib!" Hadji was swaying back and forth in time with the cadence of the chant. The pulsations of the band of light caused an insane glow to reflect from his open, ecstatic eyes.

  A final, silent, inaudible scream struggled to break free from Will's rotting mouth. He strained to draw in air, and his lungs collapsed. As wave after wave of pain washed over him, he sank into shock only to be roused by the searing agony as it swept upon him anew. The flow of liquid ceased, and what seemed to be dust burst out through the cracked and putrefying leather which encased his disintegrating body.

  "Anet hrauthen 'Anpu! Anet hrauthen 'Anpu! Anet hrauthen 'Anpu!"

  Will Foster saw the mummy of Sekhemib rise slowly and unsteadily to its feet.

  And then, mercifully, he died.

  CHAPTER 8

  Thomas Sawhill gazed with irritation and some concern out over the campus quad. "Where the hell could he have gone?" he wondered aloud.

  Harriet was standing beside him. "Does he realize the importance of the tests in the hospital?"

  "He certainly should. I tried to impress upon him the seriousness of the situation." Sawhill shook his head. "I just don't understand this. I know he's afraid of hospitals, but I can't imagine him just wandering off. I mean, good God, the man can barely walk!"

  "Maybe you should ask Jasper or Gus to try to find him?" she suggested.

  "Oh, sure, as if they don't have enough to do!" He sighed. "I'm going to have to look for him myself."

  Roderick Fowles walked out of the museum and approached them. "Professor Langly? May I have a word?"

  "Oh, yes, Your Lordship. I'm sorry, but with all the excitement we've been rather ignoring you."

  "Please don't give it a second thought. I'm terribly sorry for all the trouble you seem to be having, but if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like to sign the transfer documents so that I can proceed on my own itinerary." He grinned boyishly. "I'm rather eager to get to Disney World, actually."

  Harriet thought for a moment before speaking. "Well, sir, I am willing to accept receipt of the six exhibits we still possess. But as for the one which was stolen—well, I don't know."

  "It was insured, after all, was it not?" he said. "I'm quite certain that Miss Melendez would not object to the filing of a claim on your behalf."

  "Hold it," Suzanne said as she too walked out of the museum onto the grassy quadrangle. "The insurance covers shipment. That was the limit of the policy. As of this moment, there's no insurance on any of the exhibits."

  "But we haven't taken possession yet, Suzie," Harriet objected. "Surely that means that technically they are still covered under the shipping insurance."

  Suzanne smiled kindly at her friend. "Sorry, hon, it doesn't work that way. Can you imagine me trying to explain to my boss that the crates were all unloaded and stored on the grounds of their insured destination but were still in transit at the same time?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but at this stage of the game no one can file a claim on the one that was stolen."

  "Damn!" Roderick muttered. "That's bloody inconvenient. What do you suggest we do?" It was typical of Roderick that he chose to act as if this were a problem common to them all rather than an issue between contending parties.

  "Well, this is how it looks to me. I'm sorry to say that, unless the stolen exhibit is recovered, you're both just going to have to accept the fact that it's gone for good. I would be willing to write a policy on the remaining six—"

  "We have blanket policy on all the contents of the museum," Sam Goldhaber said, walking over from behind them.

  "How much is it for?"

  He grinned sheepishly. "Not for too much, I'm afraid."

  "Well, you should increase it. If you have an insurance company which you customarily work with, then contact them as soon as possible." She smiled. "I mean, I'm not trying to drum up business. Harriet, accept receipt of the six exhibits, sign the papers, and get them insured as soon as possible. I'm afraid," she turned to Roderick, "that you'll have to absorb the loss of the other exhibit, Your Lordship."

  Damn, I wish Pearson were here, Roderick thought. I don't know anything about such matters. He shrugged, saying, "Well, I suppose that's all we can do."

  "I really would like to make certain that the other crates contain what they're supposed to contain," Harriet said hesitantly.

  "Oh, sure, of course," Suzanne said. "Are you satisfied with the authenticity of the mummies you've already seen?"

  "Well, there are problems," she admitted. "No evisceration, for example. There are problems with the hieroglyphs—"

  "Harriet, we shouldn't be talking about scholarly stuff. Are they real mummies, or aren't they?"

  "Oh, yes, there's no doubt about that."

  "Well, that really should be enough, shouldn't it? I mean, any sort of scientific research on the exhibits really has nothing to do with concluding the purchase, right?"

  Harriet nodded reluctantly. "I suppose that's true."

  "You sure, Harriet?" Sam asked.

  "Yes," she said with a certainty she did not feel. "Yes. In any event, if the other mummies are in the same perfect state of preservation as the first three, then I don't want to lose them. Besides," she grinned, "half a dozen is better than none."

  "Good," Suzanne said. "Before we left London, Mr. Pearson—" she paused, "poor Mr. Pearson gave me a box filled with documents about the shipment. Why don't we all go back to our hotel and take care of everything there?"

  "Documents!" Harriet exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

  Suzanne shrugged. "I didn't see any need to. I figured that they're just ownership certificates or something like that. Why?"

  "Have you examined the documents?"

  "Of course not! They're in a sealed box. All I know is what Mr. Pearson told me, that they're connected to the Selwyn collection. Hey, what's the big deal, anyway?"

  "Nothing," Harriet said uncertainly. "Oh, nothing, nothing. I just had a—nothing. Forget it." She seemed to be attempting to bring herself out of a reverie. "Let's go look in the other four crates, and if everything's okay we can go and sign the papers."

  "Why don't we go and get the documents and bring them back here?" Suzanne asked, glancing at Roderick. He smiled amiably, always ready to follow any suggestion.

  Harriet smiled. "Good idea. It'd probably save time." And give you a chance to get His Lordship alone, she thought with amusement.

  "Hiya," Gus Rudd said as he ambled hesitantly into the room.

  Jasper drew himself up to his full height and fixed an angry glare at his younger brother. "What the hell happened?"

  Gus spread his hands apart at
his sides and shrugged. "I'm really sorry Jasper, honest I am. I really tried, and I was doin' good, too, but he pulled a fast one on me."

  Jasper nodded unsympathetically. "That doesn't seem too hard to do."

  "Excuse me a minute," Sawhill broke in. "Gus, you didn't see Will anywhere in town on your way back here, did you?"

  "No, I didn't, sorry. Is Will in trouble or something?"

  "Could be," Sawhill muttered. "He's ill, very ill. He's supposed to check into the hospital this evening."

  "No shit!" Gus said. "He seemed okay last night. I mean, sure, his hand was botherin' him, but—"

  "Whatever was wrong with his hand has spread to his arm and leg. He can barely walk, and I don't really know what's wrong with him."

  "Gee, that's terrible." Gus frowned.

  Jasper shook his head. "Damndest thing," he said. "No idea what it is?"

  "Well," Sawhill replied, "it could be scleroderma, a degenerative tissue disease, but I really can't tell without the tests he's supposed to take tonight."

  A glimmer of realization flashed into Gus Rudd's mind, but he almost immediately snuffed it out. The man with Hadji, the cripple—could it have been? . . . No. No, that's ridiculous. Couldn't have been. Stupid idea, stupid.

  "Well," Sawhill said tiredly, "if it's okay with everybody, I'm going to go out and look for Will."

  "You want some help, Doc?" Gus asked.

  "Not from you!" Jasper snapped. "With you helping him, he'd never find him." Jasper ignored Gus's crestfallen look. "You stay here and give me a hand."

  As Sawhill, Suzanne, and Roderick left, Harriet turned to Jasper. "Can I borrow Gus for a few minutes? I want to get those other crates open to check out the contents before we sign the papers."

  "Yeah, okay," Jasper muttered. "Just hurry it up, you understand?"

  "Sure, Jasper, okay," Gus said. "I'll just pry off the lids." He turned to Harriet. "That'll be enough this time, right?" Gus seemed to think that being helpful now would somehow compensate for losing Hadji.

  "Sure, Gus. I don't need to examine the sarcophagi. Just get the lids off the four crates and off the sarcophagi inside, and that'll be all I need. I just have to make sure there are mummies in there."

  "Okeydokey," Gus said. "I'll go over to the grounds building."

  "Good. I'll meet you there." She turned to the others. "You want to join me, or do you have other things to do?"

  "Well," Suzanne replied, "I have to go back to the hotel to get the papers. You want to come along, Your Lordship?"

  "Oh, yes, of course," Roderick said. "I'd rather like to get this all over with, actually."

  "Well, I'll stay and help," Sam said. "I'd be interested in seeing the condition of the other exhibits before I give the final okay to the purchase. I'm the one who has to sign the papers, you know."

  "Curators aren't trusted by administrators," Harriet explained wryly. "They're afraid we'll buy anything and everything."

  Suzanne laughed. "Probably right. Well, we'll be back in a few minutes."

  "Okay. See you." Harriet turned back to Sam. "Let's go see how Gus is doing."

  They walked over to the grounds building quietly. Harriet had not reconciled herself to the loss of the first mummy, and Sam's attempts at light conversation did not interest her. She was certain—they were all certain—that Ahmed Hadji was the thief, but it seemed clear that Jasper's hands were tied. Son of a bitch, she thought to herself in reference to Hadji. Mummies in every museum in the world, and he has to come here and hassle me. Son of a bitch!

  They entered the grounds building to find that Gus had already pried two of the crates open and was working on the third. "Piece of cake," he smiled. "These crates are so old that the nails pull out like—ouch!"

  "What's the matter?"

  Gus was shaking his hand back and forth. "Jeeze! I must have pulled a muscle or something. Ouch!" he repeated.

  "Hey, are you all right?" Harriet asked.

  Gus rubbed his right hand with his left. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Must be a muscle spasm or something." He returned his attention to the third of the four crates.

  Harriet watched Gus with concern for a moment, and then walked over to one of the crates. "Sam, help me with the coffin lid, will you?" She took one end of the lid and he the other.

  They lifted it easily from the sarcophagus and placed it on the floor. Harriet looked in at the fourth perfectly preserved mummy, obviously another woman. She looked down at the lid. "Khumara, priestess of Bast," she read. "Same hieroglyphs, same prayers, same medallion."

  "Isn't that what you expected?" Sam asked.

  "More or less," she agreed. They moved to the next crate and removed the coffin lid, again placing it on the floor beside the crate. "Another one, in a perfect state of preservation. This one is—" she looked carefully at the lid. "Senmut, priest of Ra."

  Another crate was opened, another lid removed, another mummy revealed. "Herihor, priest of Horns," she read. And yet another. "Wenet, priest of Thoth."

  Harriet, Sam, and Gus stood looking at the four open coffins. She shook her head. "Sam, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass, but this just doesn't make sense."

  "I know, you told us about the hieroglyphs."

  "It's not just that. What are all of these people doing together? The Selwyns didn't just happen by coincidence to obtain them from different sources. These bodies are all buried in identical wooden coffins. They wear identical medallions. I haven't examined these four yet, but I'd bet my life that none of them have been eviscerated. And they are all priests, but of different gods, by virtue of which they should not have been buried together." Harriet frowned. "Sam, it just doesn't make any sense. There is nothing in my knowledge of Egyptian funerary practice which could account for this."

  "Harriet," Sam said gently, "don't you think you're letting your academic imagination run away with you? There must be a simple explanation for all these things."

  "Yeah," she conceded unwillingly. "It's just that I'll be damned if I can think of what it is." She shook her head again. "Well, I might as well put the time to good use while we're waiting for Suzie and the Earl to come back. I'm going to do some transcriptions of the hieroglyphs on the lids. But I'm sure they'll all be the same as the others, mistakes and all. What are you going to do?"

  Goldhaber smiled. "Nothing. It's one of the prerogatives of academic administrators to be able to relax and watch their underlings labor."

  "Nice, Sam. Real nice." She shot him a look of mock irritation tinged with affection, and then knelt beside one of the lids and, taking pencil and paper in hand, began to copy the hieroglyphs. Sam went outside and lolled about, enjoying the fresh air. There was a distinct odor of dust and age in the grounds building because of its recent boarders, and the cool green air outside was very pleasant.

  Still rubbing his hand, Gus Rudd walked out and passed Sam Goldhaber. "See you later, Professor."

  "Thanks for your help, Gus."

  "My pleasure." As Gus walked back toward the museum where his brother awaited him impatiently, he continued to rub and poke his hand. Damn it, Gus thought. And it's my pistol hand, too! I got to be more careful moving things.

  A half-hour later Suzanne and Roderick drove into the parking lot near the museum, and Sam watched as they got out of the car and approached him. Roderick was carrying a small wooden box, about one foot long and wide, about six inches high, upon which were engraved geometric designs of uncertain origin. He seemed slightly miffed at having to carry the box himself. Sam smiled slightly. It must be tough to have to do without a butler, a chauffeur, and all the other servants. Poor guy, Sam thought with absolutely no sympathy whatsoever.

  "Hi, Sam," Suzanne said as they approached. "Where's Harriet?"

  "She's inside," he replied, gesturing behind him over his shoulder. "We opened the other four crates, just to check the contents."

  "Everything okay?"

  "Everything looks fine to me. Four more mummies."

  "Good. T
he papers Mr. Pearson sent along with the shipment are in this box. Let's get to work and complete the transfer." She entered the grounds building with Sam and Roderick in her wake.

  Harriet was still kneeling on the floor as they entered, bending over the last of the four coffin lids. She looked up at them and smiled perfunctorily. "That was quick."

  "Yeah," Suzanne said, and added sotto voce, "unfortunately." Harriet laughed. Suzanne's campaign of seduction against the Earl of Selwyn was making no progress. "His Lordship has the papers in this box. Isn't it beautiful?"

  Harriet moved her hand over the shining wood appreciatively. "It certainly is. Teakwood, isn't it, Your Lordship?"

  "I suppose so," Roderick replied. "Uncle told me that there were papers relating to the collection in a teakwood box, so I assume that this is it." He did not add that he couldn't tell teak from oak if his life depended on it.

  "Do you think it's from India?" Suzanne asked. "That's where teak comes from, doesn't it?"

  "Yeah, but this isn't Indian," Harriet said, still examining the designs on the box. "More likely from an Islamic country, maybe Pakistan. Moslems developed intricate geometric designs for decorations because of the prohibition against representing human or animal forms. Graven images, and all that." She paused. "Of course, Pakistan was part of Imperial British India. Could be. Suzie, have you examined the contents? Are there ownership papers or anything in it?"

  "No, I figured I'd better wait until we got here with it so there would be witnesses. It's sealed. See?" She pointed to a small wire encased in red wax which had been looped through the clasp on the box.

  "Oh, I hadn't noticed," Harriet said. "Well, put it down on that work table over there, Your Lordship, if you'd be so kind."

  "I trust there are no further impediments to concluding the sale?" he asked hopefully. "I really would like to prepare to go to Florida as soon as possible."

  "No, no, we'll accept the six mummies and make payment, according to the schedule agreed upon with your representative," Sam said. He looked at Harriet. "Right, boss?"