The Soul Scarab

by C J Turner

  ‘Yes, and I find that most encouraging, I have never known him to take such trouble over any other woman or show such consideration, in all the years that I have know him.’

  Amunet was back in control again, her eyes flashed dangerously and she lifted her small chin belligerently into the air as she turned away. However, Max noted that she took back the photograph and replaced it carefully in the dressing-gown pocket.

  ‘Huh, well, if you call the way he treats me considerate – I don’t! In any case, I do not intend to be one of his adoring masses! I have to go back to England with you to collect my stuff, but then I will return to Egypt, and hopefully never have to see him again. I am sorry, Max, he just caught me unaware this evening. I will be fine, I promise you, but he is the most selfish, inconsiderate, arrogant . . .’ her hands clenched into small fists as she ran out of words to adequately describe Blake’s perfidy and Max reached over to take one hand between his own and gently roll out the rigid fingers.

  ‘I could not agree with you more, of course, but you know what he said about our concerns for you were quite right. We are not in a strong enough position to help you, should there be the need, and a British Passport, which you would be entitled to as Blake’s wife, could make all the difference if things became difficult,’ Max insisted, but she shook her head in vehement denial. He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘However, he is not the only one who can give you that protection. If you won’t have Blake, what do you think about taking me on instead?’

  Amunet eyes widened in alarm and Max chuckled and patted her hand.

  ‘I don’t think we need go so far as actually getting married at this stage, but how about an engagement? I will have the pleasure of flaunting you as my fiancé; and I am far more respectable than Blake, as the future Lady Tregunna, I believe you would be beyond suspicion. And Blake will have time to get used to a new concept - new for him anyway!’

  Dawning wonder shone with burgeoning hope in her eyes, she looked up at him questioningly, and he nodded.

  ‘Oh yes, Blake and I go back a long way and there is not much he can keep from me. He is a stubborn man and has to come at these things in his own way. It will all turn out right, you will see, but a lot has happened very quickly. I suggest that we give him a breathing space and see what develops - but we do not have to make it too easy for him! What do you say?’

  Her face lit up with mischief and excitement and was answer enough as she gleefully threw her arms around his neck. Poor Max, his control stretched to the uttermost, wondered ruefully how he would ever bear to give her up.

  Chapter 17

  The next morning, over breakfast, Max announced their engagement with a good deal of malicious pleasure, and watched with satisfaction as Blake choked on his croissant and had to be slapped on the back repeatedly before he recovered.

  He had turned puce with suppressed fury and Max was content, they had made a start. It had been obvious to Max for a while that thwarted desire and misunderstanding was the predominant reasons for the tension between Blake and Amunet and now he knew how she felt, he had only to work out why Blake was acting in this maddening fashion.

  Could it be that for the first time that Blake was up against the knowledge that here was someone from whom he would not be able to walk away unscathed, whenever it suited him? Was he, in effect, afraid of getting in too deep? Max was inclined to think so and was delighted and just slightly gratified that Amunet was going to make things as difficult as possible. Blake had had it easy too long in his friend’s opinion and in any case, never appreciated an easy victory.

  For once Max was wrong in this assumption. When Blake first met Naa’il’s orphaned niece, he discovered a keen intelligence and determined will to break out of the confining traditions that usually bound young girls in her situation. Always drawn to courage, he was impressed by her indomitable spirit and had enjoyed assuaging as best he could his protégé’s apparent fathomless thirst for knowledge. He had become genuinely fond of her and deplored the fact that she would probably never be given the opportunity of a proper education; unaware that Hameeda was allowing them far greater freedom than would normally have been permitted as she saw her niece blossom and learn to laugh again.

  However, other members of the expedition had become worried that his innocent interest in the girl would be misconstrued by the locals and warned him to back off. At first angered by the suggestion, he had to concede that they had more experience in these matters than he did, and as the last thing he wanted was to put his first expedition at risk, he reluctantly agreed.

  It had come as an unpalatable shock, when Blake discovered that the little waif he had befriended so many years ago, was now the woman who stirred his blood so effortlessly now. The fact that the same little waif was apparently playing a deep game of her own, further added to the maelstrom of mixed emotions, and inevitably, he recoiled from a situation where he could find no firm footing. His attempts to put some space between them, as much for her sake as his own, was foiled by Max unusually taking the high moral ground and insisting on this fool scheme to protect Amunet. Now the situation was even worse, Blake fumed, if that was possible! It was possible, as he was soon to find out.

  Amunet had made Max swear a terrifyingly ferocious oath that he would never breathe a word of her confidences regarding Blake and he had reluctantly agreed. She had then written to Hameeda, telling her everything that had transpired, imagining as she did so her Aunt’s great jubilation on learning about the timely demise of their enemies. After explaining that she had to return to England immediately, and that there would not be time for her to see her Aunt before she went, Amunet promised to return as soon as possible, and also asked Hameeda to contact her employers and square her extended absence. Luckily, because of the unpredictable nature of her assignments, she had a lot of outstanding leave due to her. Loose ends tied up, she looked forward to their reunion in a few weeks time.

  Amunet had told Max that she worked for the S.C.A, but had given the impression that her job was mainly concerned with translating - silently daring Blake to mention her other, rather more unconventional abilities - but he said nothing and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  In the meantime, Max had arrived at a theory, which he was anxious to discuss with Blake. Later that evening, he had his chance as they sat in the empty bar of the hotel, taking a last glass of brandy before retiring for the night. In his opinion, there could be a simple reason for Amunet’s knowledge of a dead tongue, he told Blake. In the course of her job, she could have picked up more knowledge than she realized regarding the ancient Eyptians; while suffering from amnesia and only semi-conscious, her subconscious memory took over, which had resulted in the distressing nightmares. He was obviously very pleased at finding such a plausible explanation. Blake proffered no opinion one way or the other, merely agreeing that it was certainly a possibility. Whatever his private thoughts were on the subject, he kept to himself.

  The Professor’s party departed from Luxor and returned to England as unobtrusively as they had left, but if they thought they had left mystery and mayhem behind them, they were wrong. However, at first, all went miraculously as planned.

  On arrival in London, Amunet picked up her gear from Victoria Station and Max drove them down to Swallowhill, where he introduced the delighted girl to her first visit to Cornwall, and to his family home.

  The graceful old grey stone house with its golden moss-studded, collyweston slate roof and the beautiful ever-changing views over the restless Atlantic, wove an instant spell that enchanted her.

  For someone brought up in a fiercely hot, dry climate and used to the silence of the changeless desert, the gentle, rain-misted warmth of this most westerly part of England, and the constant, sibilant crash of the turbulent sea in the rocky little bay below the house, was a revelation. They stayed only a few days to establish their alibi. Playing at being tourists, they explored the steeply cobbled village streets, ate delicious, freshly cooked seafood in the local pub
s, and took long walks along the beach. Max proud that his beautiful home had found such whole-hearted favour with Amunet, watched indulgently as she insisted on paddling in the freezing sea or ran up and down the sand, exclaiming in delight when she found an unusual shell or a tiny crab. With quiet satisfaction, he saw Blake begin to unwind as they both enjoyed the experience of newly discovering old and familiar pleasures through Amunet’s eyes. It was true, he reminded himself, that they still had to resolve a few small matters, but there too, events flowed smoothly.

  The party duly returned to London, Blake telephoned the police station and explained that he and Max had just returned home and understood that the police wanted to speak to him. The interview was carried with great aplomb; Blake was at his most charming, apologising profusely for his irresponsibly in not informing the authorities when he was called away on urgent business, and had sent Amunet down to stay at the house of an old friend during his absence.

  They would, however, be delighted to learn that the said young lady had now recovered her memory, was of blameless reputation and that the Cornish sojourn had led to unexpected romance. The police were understanding and sympathetic, everything was explained to their satisfaction and her passport was produced in confirmation. Amunet was congratulated on her recovery, and Sir Maxwell on their engagement and afterwards, Max took them all, including Alice, out to dinner to celebrate.

  Blake was restraining himself admirably, considering his own feelings regarding Amunet were tearing him apart. The strength of his desire, which surprised even him, was in direct conflict with his recollection of the vulnerable little girl who had unknowingly taken up gentle residence in a long forgotten corner of his heart so many years ago. Not that wild horses would ever compel him to admit to such maudlin sentiment!

  The tumultuous emotions she aroused in him now were of a very different nature. His feelings veered from incensed rage to deeply passionate longing, which at times threatened to overpower him as had happened on one occasion in Cornwall. Amunet had cut her instep on a sharp shell on the beach. Washing the grit from the deep cut with salt water, he had held the small, delicate foot in one hand while wrapping it in his handkerchief, and had felt her flinch. He had looked up straight into her eyes, awash with stinging tears, which she had laughed away. Suddenly the warmth of the affection he had felt for the courageous child who had caught his interest so many years ago, came flooding back, so totally at odds with the desire he felt for the woman he hardly knew. Confused and alarmed that he stood in danger of making a complete fool of himself, Blake took cover behind a veneer of irascible annoyance. Then he would see the old vulnerability peeping out of her eyes in sudden hurt and all his protective instincts were aroused, instincts that he had not known he possessed, and was not at all sure that he still wanted.

  The trouble was, she ostensibly refused to be protected, and her defiance reduced that hitherto complacent male ego to fury. To add insult to injury, she made it perfectly clear that she preferred Max’s company, and had chosen Max’s protection rather than his own. If that was truly what she wanted, which he had his own very cogent reasons for doubting, she was obviously playing a very deep game of her own, and he resolved to stand clear and let her stew in her own ill-judged juice.

  The only time when this iron control threatened to slip, was the day they returned to London and Max took Amunet shopping. When they returned to the house, she was wearing a very pretty antique diamond ring on her engagement finger! Alice cooed with delight, even though she was aware that the engagement was only a ruse, but later, when the two men were alone, Blake somewhat acidly asked Max if he was not taking this farce too far?

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ Max replied slowly, considering Blake over the top of his brandy glass. ‘The fact of the matter is, I find Amunet wholly enchanting. My engagement to her may have started off as an expediency, but I am hoping that I can persuade her in time to make it a reality!’

  Blake gave a hoot of rude laughter, ‘What utter bosh…,’ he caught Max’s cold expression and choked back what he had been about to say, ‘You’re serious aren’t you?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘Never more so, old chap, never more so,’ Max said firmly, and Blake was silenced.

  After that, Max decided that he must return to Cornwall and invited Amunet to go back with him for a short stay. She agreed but not without a slightly wistful glance in Blake’s direction. Amunet was getting increasingly fond of Max and as Blake remained stubbornly indifferent, it did not look to her as if their ploy was going to work. So she thanked Max warmly for his invitation but told him privately later, that after the holiday, she would return to Egypt to take up her life there again.

  That last evening, Alice organised a valedictory dinner to mark the break-up of their ambiguous coalition, but it was not an altogether comfortable occasion for at least three of the parties present and in an attempt to ease the strain Blake rashly decided to open some champagne.

  One or three glasses of Moet put Alice in nostalgic mood. She had been delighted to learn that Amunet was Hameeda’s niece and had talked to her a lot about those happier times when she and her husband and Blake would be invited to the Safwans house to spend a thoroughly satisfactory evening fahddling (gossiping) with Naa’il ,and making the most of Hameeda’s delicious cooking.

  ‘Of course, that must be why you seemed so familiar to me! As soon as I met you, I felt as if I already knew you – but of course, I did! I had seen you at Hameeda’s house when you were just a young girl! I had a soft spot for you even then, we all loved you!’ Alice exclaimed, beaming round at the others, but Blake merely raised a sardonic eyebrow and looked sourly into his glass.

  It was the first time they had really been able to discuss freely with Alice what had happened in Egypt and she was totally enthralled as they filled in the gaps for her. She was especially interested in Blake’s description of Kenna’s secret chamber and returned to a description of the wall paintings again and again. In her head, Alice jubilantly fitted another piece into her own private puzzle, but when she saw that her curiosity was making Blake’s hard stare linger on her more than she liked, she changed the subject, uneasily aware of the dawning conjecture in his eyes. Hastily, she tried to distract him.

  ‘But what happened to the dagger?’ Alice asked, ignoring Blake’s sudden scowl. ‘I mean, where is it now? I must say, I would love to see it!’

  Amunet shook her head, carefully not looking at Blake. ‘I don’t know, it went missing, but I am not sorry. I hope I may never have to see it again!’

  Blake looked across at her, an odd expression on his suddenly thoughtful face. ‘But I thought you said that you had sent it to me here, at this address.’

  Amunet swallowed uncomfortably, ‘I did, but you said you had never received it, so the parcel must have got lost in the post,’ she offered lamely, generously giving him a way out.

  Typically, she saw with irritation, that he was not going to take it.

  ‘Unusual, the Royal Mail gets blamed for a lot, but in fact, I have always found it most reliable.’ Blake drawled at his most aggravating.

  He was looking at her intently and to her great annoyance, she felt the hot colour mount in her cheeks. It was so unfair - she was not the guilty party here!

  But Alice had gone suddenly white and was looking at them with a stricken expression on her face. ‘You sent a parcel here?’ she whispered, in a thread of her usual voice.

  Amunet nodded slowly, bewildered at the change that had come over the other woman. Alice’s face was ashen and something was plainly very wrong.

  The two men both sat up alertly, exchanging glances.

  Alice got to her feet unsteadily, and stumbled out of the room. The others stared at each other in perplexed concern as they heard her leave the house and go to her car. In a few minutes she had returned, carrying a small oblong parcel. She held it out to Amunet, who stared at it with blank consternation.

  ‘Is this it, the parcel you sent here?�
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  Amunet nodded, bewildered. ‘But how… I don’t understand, where did it come from?’

  Miserably, Alice explained how she had collected it on the morning of Amunet’s first arrival at the house, stuffing it in the glove compartment of her car under some maps for safekeeping, and then with all the excitement of later events, had completely forgotten about it until tonight! She was clearly very upset but not so badly confounded as Amunet and Max, when Blake tore the wrappings off the box and lifting the lid, revealed the gleaming dagger inside. Their very first thoughts were analogous; if the dagger had been in Alice’s car here in England all along, how had they seen the identical twin to this, sticking out of Ahmed’s back on the night of the avalanche!

  With great care, Blake drew the dagger from its nest of tissue paper, and all four heads bent to study it more closely.

  Suddenly, a scream rang out, shockingly loud in the quiet room.

  ‘Look, look at the blade – there’s blood! Oh God, so much innocent blood!’

  Chapter 18

  ‘Alice! Oh, quickly Blake, what is the matter with her?’ Amunet was frantic as she quickly knelt by the unconscious woman, anxiously chaffing Alice’s cold hand between her two warm ones.

  ‘It’s ok, she’s only fainted. Those rusty marks do look a little like bloodstains. Just let me get her to the sofa and you go and get a glass of water.’ Blake lifted Alice as he spoke and settled her on the couch.

  ‘But it is blood, mine! The dagger slipped when I was wrapping it and cut my hand, that’s all. I thought I had cleaned it but … oh poor Alice!’ Amunet exclaimed as she hurried to the kitchen to get the water.

  Blake checked Alice’s pulse, which at first fluttered madly under his fingers like a trapped butterfly. She had obviously had a severe shock, but already some colour was returning to her face and the erratic pulse slowly steadied. Relieved that she was recovering, Blake moved aside to make room as Amunet returned to tend to the older woman.