Stolen Souls

by Sackett, Jeffrey

  "Don't count on it. He'll probably look just because he is nervous. When we get out onto Main Street, see if you can let another car come between us and him for a while."

  Sawhill frowned. "You want to drive?" he spat, and then regretted his remark and his tone. "Sorry, Sam. I'm just a little—"

  "I know, Tom, I know" Sam patted him on the shoulder from behind. "Let's all just calm down a bit." He glanced over at Roderick to get his agreement. Roderick seemed to be sleeping.

  They followed the van as it wound its way slowly through the back roads of the small town before coming to a stop on a narrow residential street. Hadji and Yuya left the van and went up the few steps to the door of a house, the street address of which neither Sam nor Sawhill could make out from their position at the end of the street.

  "They don't seem to have seen us," Sam said.

  "No. Can you find a phone? You call Jasper at the hospital and I'll go over and see if I can see anything."

  "Sure I can find a phone. Dick Staudt from the chemistry department lives a few doors down from here. But you should stay in the car, Tom. Don't take any chances with these people. Except for Hadji, we don't know who's involved in this or what they may be willing to do. Stay in the car."

  "I appreciate your concern, Sam, but I'm still going to go and peek into those windows." He opened the car door and got out.

  "Tom, I'm not just concerned about you," Sam said as he followed him out onto the sidewalk. "If they see you they might bolt, and that would be the end of any chance we have if getting back the exhibits. And if they're involved in all the other stuff that's been going on around here, we might never be able to figure out the connections."

  "I'll be careful," Sawhill insisted. "You just go and call Jasper. The hospital's number is 269-6000. I'm just going to scout around a little and then come back to the car." He grinned. "Don't worry. I'm not the heroic type. I won't break in on them or anything."

  Sam shrugged resignedly. "Okay. But don't dawdle. Take your peek and then get back here. I'll go call Jasper. 269-6000, you said?"

  "That's it." Sawhill turned and walked briskly down the street towards the house. Sam watched him, worry written on its face, and then began to jog in the other direction. Roderick soused himself long enough to watch them both go, and then closed his eyes again and leaned back in the seat.

  Sawhill stepped onto the lawn of the house before the one into which Hadji and his companion had disappeared, and he moved close to the front wall of the dwelling. He moved as quietly and as unobtrusively as he could along the wall and then ran carefully across the driveway. He reached the corner of the house and stood still, breathing heavily. He heard no one and saw no one. He was about to hoist himself up onto the edge of one of the windows near the edge when he heard, or thought he heard, voices speaking softly. He froze, suddenly frightened, wishing he had remained in the car. He stood perfectly still, only his eyes moving from side to side in a search for the location of the voices. They seemed to be coming from beneath his feet. He looked down and saw that a series of small casement windows ran at intervals along the side of the house a few inches above the surface of the driveway.

  "In the basement," he whispered to himself. He quickly lay down prone on his stomach and very slowly, very carefully pulled himself up to the side of one of the basement windows. He peered into the dimly lighted basement, and felt a sudden rush of instinctive fury rise in him. He fought to control it.

  Harriet Langly was sitting in a chair against the basement wall, her hands bound to the chair arms. Beside her stood Ahmed Hadji, and in front of her another man whom Sawhill did not know. He heard other people moving around in the basement, but he did not see them. Hadji was cutting her bonds with a long, nasty looking knife as the other man and Harriet spoke. He could not make out their words, but what they were saying did not strike his ear familiarly. That isn't English, he thought to himself. He waved his hand rapidly, hoping to catch her eye while Hadji was intent upon his task and the other man's back was to the window, but she did not see him.

  Sawhill pushed his way carefully away from the edge of the window and then, getting to his feet, began to run madly back to the car. When he reached it, he flung open the door and jumped in. He reached into the back seat and grabbed Roderick roughly by the collar and shook him, demanding, "Where did Professor Goldhaber go? What house did he go into?"

  "I beg your pardon?" Roderick said, confused.

  "I said, where did Sam go!" he shouted. "What house? Tell me, goddamn it!"

  "Sorry, I was, eh, that is to say I didn't really pay any—"

  Sawhill thrust him backward in anger and disgust and jumped out of the car. He began to run up the street, screaming, "Sam! Sam!" as loudly as possible. Venetian blinds were raised and curtains slightly parted on all sides as the residents, unaccustomed to the commotion, indulged their curiosity and looked out their windows. Sam Goldhaber opened the door of one of the houses and bounded down the steps. "Sam!" Sawhill said frantically.

  "Tom, what's the matter? Why are you—"

  "They've got Harriet in that house, Hadji and some other people! They've got Harriet!"

  "Damn!" he spat. "I called Jasper. He's coming right over. Oh, and they were able to make a more positive identification. It is Gus in there, and most probably Suzanne also. The autopsy just got—"

  "The hell with the autopsy! They've got Harriet in there! We have to—"

  Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Damn it, Tom, will you get hold of yourself? We have to wait here for Jasper. We don't even have a gun, for Christ's sake. What the hell can we do by ourselves?"

  "But Harriet—"

  "We'll get her out of this, don't worry. Jasper—"

  "Look!" Sawhill pointed down the street. In the distance Sam could see figures walking out of the house and opening the door of the van. "Harriet!" he shouted and began to run. Sam Goldhaber followed as quickly as his aging legs could carry him.

  Ahmed Hadji was holding Harriet Langly tightly as he led her out of the door of the house and down the front steps. As Sawhill drew closer his mind vaguely registered the impression that Harriet was not struggling at all but rather was walking numbly down the steps with Hadji guiding rather than restraining her. Harriet and Hadji reached the paved walkway which stretched out from the front steps just as Sawhill reached the edge of the lawn at a dead run and flung himself wildly at them. He brought them both down with him, and he tried to grab Hadji around the neck, all the while shouting, "Run, Harriet! Run!" She lay, limp and motionless, staring with open eyes up at the clouds.

  Hadji began to battle Sawhill viciously, kicking and biting against the pummeling fists which rained blows down upon him. He managed to wedge his left foot against Sawhill's stomach and pushed outward forcefully, sending Sawhill sprawling backward. Hadji jumped to his feet and reached into his coat pocket. He drew out his dagger and clasped it in his right hand, blade downward.

  Sawhill rolled out of the way as Hadji leaped at him, and the knife sliced deeply into the short-clipped grass. Sawhill placed a hard kick in Hadji's side and then brought his fist crashing down on the back of the Arab's neck. As Hadji lay there stunned, Sawhill grabbed the dagger and pulled it out of the ground. He raised his arm and prepared to bring the blade down into Hadji's back.

  "An khem! Ster!" the other man said in a tone of command. Withdraw, Sekhemib had said. Sleep.

  Thomas Sawhill fought to retain control of his body, but he fell weakly back upon the ground as the world swam before him. The dagger fell harmlessly upon the grass with an almost inaudible thud, and he lost his grip on consciousness.

  Sekhemib looked at Harriet and released her from the power of his psychic fetters. Her eyes closed briefly and her lungs drew in a massive, trembling breath. Then, too frightened to rise to her feet, she lay there and looked up at Sekhemib. "Who is this fool?" he asked angrily.

  "He is my—" her mind searched for the proper term for "lover" in the ancient language, "he
is my brother in joy."

  Sekhemib nodded, understanding the expression. "He is brave, though foolish." He turned to Hadji, who was rising uneasily to his feet. With one hand he held the back of his neck while Sekhemib grasped him by the other to assist him. "Art thou injured?"

  Hadji's eyes blazed with anger when he saw Sawhill lying insensible before him. "You son of a whore!" he spat between clenched teeth. He ran over and picked up his dagger, murder in his eyes, but Sekhemib stepped between him and Sawhill and stopped Hadji with one imperious look.

  "He thinks to save his lady, Ahmed Hadji. Is that not an honorable impulse, even in this world?"

  "But he—"

  "Priest of Thoth, learn proper views. Seekest thou vengeance on a mortal man, when immortality shall be thine inheritance?"

  "But I want to see him dead! He attacked me!"

  "And he has been defeated. Were we in need of a tekenu at this moment, I would give his soul to Senmut; but we must not return more of my company to this life before we stand again in the holy place. And dost thou wish to see him dead? Then return here years hence, when he dies."

  Hadji was angry and confused. "But what matter? Why may I not kill him? Why do you stop me?"

  "To kill out of passion pollutes the mind, Ahmed Hadji. I have killed ten times ten thousand, and yet my mind was ever cold and my blood rushed not. Pity the mortals, and use them even as they pity and use the dumb beasts of the field. But to kill a mortal man in anger is like unto killing the beast in anger. It is degrading, and unworthy of your oath." Hadji cast one more angry look at the unconscious form and then went in a huff to the van.

  Sekhemib's will roused Sawhill from his stupor. He coughed and tried to move his still numb body but found that he was in the grip of a paralysis from his neck downward. He looked desperately from Harriet to Sekhemib. The priest looked down at Harriet and said softly, "The bravery of a fool amuses me and makes me remember events of the past, for men have always fought for women. I give you a gift, Heret, out of my triumph. Bid farewell to your brother, for you shall not see him again this side of the tomb."

  Harriet looked up at Sekhemib, and then slowly turned her eyes to Thomas Sawhill. "I love you, Tommy," she said weakly, miserably.

  "Harriet," he rasped, "who—who—"

  "The scroll was true, Tommy, all of it. That's Sekhemib, the Egyptian priest. He drank Will's soul. They killed Gus and Suzanne too, took their souls."

  "Can't be," he whispered softly. "It just can't—"

  "It is, Tommy. He's taking me—"

  "Enough," Sekhemib said, softly but in a tone which invited no debate. "Come, Heret." Harriet felt her body moving against her will, and she rose to her feet. She moved mechanically toward the van and climbed into the passenger seat. Sekhemib and Sawhill watched her until she pulled the door shut, and then the priest caused her to fall asleep. He turned back to Sawhill and smiled coldly, saying words which Sawhill could not understand. He then turned and joined Hadji, Meret, Yuya, Harriet, and the four ancient dead in the van. Hadji turned the key in the ignition and backed the van down the driveway onto the street. The sound of a police siren and the glimpse out of the corner of his eye of flashing red and yellow lights caused Hadji to lean out the window and look behind him. "Damnation!" he spat.

  "What is amiss, Ahmed Hadji?" Sekhemib asked calmly. "An official of the rulers pursues us, my lord."

  He smiled. "And you fear?" Hadji did not answer, and

  Sekhemib smiled, shaking his head sadly.

  As the van rounded the corner, Jasper Rudd's patrol car screeched to a halt in front of the house. Thomas Sawhill was still lying on his back, the feeling slowly returning to his arms and legs. Jasper jumped out of the car and ran over to him. "You okay, Doc?"

  "Jasper," he said hoarsely, "in the van—that van . . ."

  Jasper looked down the street and saw the red rear lights disappearing around the corner. "Hadji's in there, right? Professor Goldhaber said you saw him stealing—"

  "They have Harriet in there—they're kidnapping her." He reached up and grabbed Jasper's sleeve. "They killed Will. They killed Gus and Suzanne too. It's a cult—a cult . . ."

  Jasper's eyes clouded over with red and went wide and he looked down the street. "Son of a bitch," he muttered darkly. "Goddamn fuckin' son of a bitch!" He jumped back into the patrol car and gunned the engine, sending wisps of burned rubber into the air as he sped after the van.

  Sawhill sat up painfully, feeling as if every nerve in his body had been overloaded. Sam's car pulled up, a bit more slowly than Jasper's had done, and Sam and Roderick came over to him. They took him by the arms, one man on either side, and helped him to his feet. "Can you walk?" Sam asked hurriedly.

  "I—I think so," Sawhill replied. "But we have to follow them, have to follow Jasper."

  "Yes, yes, I know. Are you sure we don't need to go to the hospital?"

  "Yes, damn it! Get back in the car. We have to catch up with them. Quick, Sam, goddamn it!"

  He practically shoved Sam Goldhaber away from him as he stumbled to the car. Roderick, moving with an alacrity for which no one who knew him would have given him credit, hopped into the back seat seconds before Sam positioned himself behind the steering wheel and drove off in pursuit of the patrol car.

  It was fortunate for them that Jasper had his siren blaring and his flashing lights switched on, else they would never have been able to remain in the chase. Sam sped down Main Street and caught a glimpse of the flashing lights turning in the direction of the entrance to the thruway. "Hold tight," he warned. "I doubt Hadji or Jasper are going to stop to get a toll ticket, and we aren't going to either." They drove through the toll gate without any reduction in speed, and Sawhill took a quickly passing look at the astounded expression on the toll collector.

  Sam followed the distant glow of the flashing lights and saw that both other vehicles had entered the southbound side of the road. His old car was not as fast as Jasper's patrol car, but he felt confident that they could outrun the van and thus, of course, catch up with Jasper. In a few short minutes they drew up behind the policeman, who was at that moment drawing close to the rear of the van. "How fast are they going, Sam?" Sawhill asked.

  Sam looked quickly at the speedometer. "We're doing eighty."

  "Dr. Sawhill?" Roderick asked, a bit meekly.

  "Yes, Your Lordship? What is it?" If you ask us to take you home, so help me God I'll slug you in the mouth.

  "What the devil is going on? Who are these people?"

  It was only then that Sawhill realized that he had not explained to Sam or Roderick any of what Harriet had told him. "Brace yourselves. You remember the story on the scroll?"

  "Of course. How do you know about it?" Sam asked.

  "Harriet told me the whole story last night. Well, apparently it's true. Harriet said so. She said that one of those people up there, one of those alive and well people, is the mummy that was stolen the other night."

  Sam Goldhaber did not respond at first. When he did, he simply said, "She was hysterical."

  "She wasn't hysterical, Sam," Sawhill said pointedly. "She seemed scared and sad, but she wasn't raving."

  "Oh, come on! Do you seriously think—" He stopped speaking when the road curved and his car began to skid frighteningly toward the shoulder before righting itself. "Gott im Himmel," he muttered.

  "Listen, Sam, I know it's crazy. I'm not even sure that I believe it myself. But . . ."

  The sound of gunfire distracted him. Up ahead, Jasper Rudd had drawn his service revolver and was firing wildly at the van. "Jesus Christ!" Sawhill said. "He's going to kill somebody like that!"

  "That may very well be his intention," Sam replied. "But Harriet's in there!"

  Sam nodded slowly. "I know. But so are the people who killed Gus."

  Ahmed Hadji ducked instinctively as a bullet crashed through the window of one of the rear doors of the van. "My lord!" he gasped. "These projectiles can kill mortal men, and I am still a mortal man. They
are dangerous."

  "Fascinating weaponry, Ahmed Hadji," Sekhemib said. "How does the weapon impel the projectile toward the target?"

  Not now, by the gods! he thought, but said, "By rapidly expanding heated air, my lord." Another bullet crashed into the rear door of the van, and Hadji ducked again. "If one of them hits our wheels, our vehicle might be destroyed. Please, my lord!"

  Sekhemib looked behind him at Yuya and Meret. "My friends, let us dispose of the insect. Turn his weapon back upon himself."

  Yuya and Meret were a bit unnerved by the speed at which they were moving, but they rose from their seated positions against the wall of the van and moved unsteadily back toward the shattered window. Meret looked out at the patrol car which was racing not fifteen feet behind them, and Yuya stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.

  It was a perfect shot. Before either of them could bring their long unused mental powers to bear, Jasper took as careful aim as he could under the circumstances and sent a bullet directly into Meret's throat. It passed through her and hit Yuya squarely in the chest. Meret fell to the floor of the van and Yuya stumbled back, shocked and confused by the searing pain. "Sekhemib," he cried, and then fell.

  Sekhemib looked back, turning his head with a casual, languid motion, but his expression turned to astonishment and anger when he saw his two ancient compatriots lying on the floor. Blood was pouring from Meret's mouth and Yuya was clutching his chest as if attempting to stem the sanguine tide which issued forth from it.

  Sekhemib's eyes, filled now with fury, turned on Hadji. "Thou didst not bum the tekenues!"

  "But I did, my lord," Hadji said frantically. "I swear by the gods, by my ka, by Anubis."

  "Blasphemer!" Sekhemib grabbed him by the throat. "Thou hast not done that which I commanded thee!"

  "I swear, my lord, I swear!" he said, choking. "Perhaps the powers have weakened after all the centuries. Perhaps the powers of the gods are less potent so far from Egypt." He felt the deathlike grip relax slightly. He was trying to steer the van, maintain the rate of speed, and save his life all at once. "Perhaps they are not seriously injured. They are but newly restored to life. Perhaps the tekenues themselves were weak. Perhaps . . ." Sekhemib released him and jumped over the seat into the rear of the van. Hadji wiped the sweat from his brow and concentrated on the road.