Raven's Gate

by Anthony Horowitz

  Mr Cole.

  We have been waiting a long time…

  The Frenchman knew his name. They had been waiting at the pyramids for the two of them to appear. None of it made any sense.

  Richard allowed himself to be escorted towards the main building, the one that stood between the other two. But before he was allowed to go in, a guard appeared and barked at him in Arabic. The guard was young, no more than nineteen. War had quickly turned him into an adult.

  “He wishes to search you before you can enter,” the Frenchman explained. “Your backpack … you are not permitted to carry weapons.”

  It was only now that Richard remembered the backpack that he had been wearing in Hong Kong and that was still strapped to his shoulders. It contained two precious objects. One was a diary, written in the sixteenth century by a Spanish monk, Joseph of Cordoba. It contained the only known history of the Old Ones and, Richard hoped, it might also hold a clue to how they could be defeated. The other object was indeed a weapon. It was a gold knife set with semi-precious stones that had been given to him by the Incas when he was in Peru. The knife was also known as a tumi and had once been used for sacrifices.

  Richard had no choice. He handed the backpack over and watched as the young soldier, bearded with blank eyes, rummaged through it.

  The soldier turned over his clothes. He found the book, took it out and glanced through it, then returned it without even looking at it. He unzipped the pockets and examined the insides. Then, with a cursory nod, he handed the backpack back to Richard. Once again, Richard found himself marvelling at what he knew had been nothing less than a display of Inca magic. The tumi had been in full sight of the soldier. He must have even pushed it aside as his hands burrowed into the pack. But he hadn’t noticed it was there. This was what the amauta, the Inca wise man, had told him. The knife was practically invisible. That was its power. Richard had even been able to carry it through airport security when he had flown into London. But the old man had added something else.

  “Do not thank me. One day you will curse me for giving it to you.”

  Richard often thought about that and wondered what he’d meant.

  At least having the knife meant that if these people were enemies and this turned out to be some sort of trap, he would be armed. Richard reflected on that as he followed the Frenchman inside. He found himself being led down a short corridor and into an empty classroom with a blackboard at one end, a few scattered desks and chairs and a view over the courtyard. Now that they were out of the sandstorm, the Frenchman had removed his face covering to reveal long grey hair, sunken cheeks and eyes that were full of trouble. He was about fifty and seemed somehow suited to the room. Perhaps he had been a teacher or lecturer once.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can arrange to have some food and water brought up.”

  “I’m fine,” Richard said. He had forgotten how long it had been since his last meal but he couldn’t sit down and eat until he had heard about Scarlett. “Where is Scarlett?” he asked.

  “There are doctors here. We have a full working hospital in the block next door. You are very lucky. There is a bullet lodged in her head and without them she would not have a chance.”

  “What is this place? And you used my name. How do you know who I am?”

  “I am sure you have a great many questions, Mr Cole. So, I must admit, do I. Perhaps it would help if you let me speak first. I will begin, if I may, with an observation. You have forgotten me but you and I have met before. It was in London, in a place called Farringdon.”

  “The Nexus…?”

  Richard certainly hadn’t forgotten the organization that had been helping them almost from the moment that he and Matt had met. The Nexus was made up of very important and influential people – police, politicians, churchmen, wealthy businessmen and women – who knew about the Old Ones and the threat they posed to the world and had come together to lead the fight against them. At the same time, they were smart enough to realize that if they went public, talking about demons and black magic, they would be ridiculed. The newspapers would tear them apart. And so they met in secret. They had used their huge collective wealth to set up a resistance movement that had branches all over the world. Richard had visited them in one such location, in central London. He remembered Susan Ashwood, the blind medium. And Mr Fabian, who had nearly got them killed in Peru. And then there was Mr Lee, the Chinese businessman who had helped them reach Hong Kong.

  But this man was a stranger to him.

  Unless…

  Richard examined him more closely. Now that he thought about it, there had been a Frenchman in the room in Farringdon. He had seen him twice; once after the petrol tanker had destroyed Matt’s school and the two of them had been sent to Peru, then again when they had returned on their way to Hong Kong. But the person he had met had been much younger than the man who was examining him curiously now. He’d had shorter, darker hair. He had been wearing a suit.

  “My name is Albert Rémy,” the Frenchman said. “You might as well know that now. But before you say anything else, let me ask you this. You remember me?”

  “Yes…” Richard was hesitant.

  “When did you and I last meet?”

  “I was in Farringdon about ten days ago.”

  “Ten days…” Rémy smiled sadly. “It is as I suspected. A trick has been played on you, my friend. Or perhaps it has been played on both of us. For you, it has been ten days. But for me, it is more than ten years since we were last together.”

  “Ten years?”

  “You were there with the American boy, Jamie. And also with Matthieu. We sent you to Macau, which we believed was the only safe way to enter Hong Kong.” Rémy held up a hand. “Do not try to argue with me. It will drive you mad. Ever since the Old Ones came into the world, so many things have happened that do not seem possible, that we cannot understand. I will tell you how it is from my point of view and then you can say what you wish.

  “I remember very clearly that last meeting with you. You had heard that Scarlett, the fifth Gatekeeper, was in Hong Kong and although we were certain it was a trap, we had to send you there. After that, we heard nothing more from you. There was a typhoon of great power that destroyed much of the city. Tens of thousands of people were killed and we wondered if you were among them. We had no way of knowing and could only do what we had always sworn to do. We waited for you. We have been waiting for ten long years.”

  “Why are you here in Egypt?” Richard asked. “Why not London?”

  “London no longer exists, my friend. At least, not in the way you knew it.” Richard looked shocked and Rémy continued. “I warned you not to ask questions. Let me explain…

  “We all knew that there was a doorway in Hong Kong that you could use to travel across the world. You yourself had told us so, as you had found it in the diary of the Spanish monk. There were twenty-four other doors, some of which you had identified. We knew of St Meredith’s in London, the cave at Lake Tahoe, the Abbey of San Galgano in Italy and the Temple of Coricancha in Cuzco, Peru. You also named other locations in Australia, South America and here in Egypt. It was clear to us that if you were ever to appear again, it would be through one of the doorways. It was therefore decided that agents of the Nexus would take responsibility for each one of the doorways that we knew and be there, should you ever arrive. I was sent to the Great Pyramid.”

  “But you weren’t the only ones who knew about them,” Richard muttered.

  “Of course not. Have you forgotten that before you received the diary, it was in the hands of the industrialist Diego Salamanda? Before it reached you, he would certainly have studied it, and everything that is known to us is also known to the Old Ones. Not all the gates were identified in the diary. What this means is that some of them are safe. But the majority of them were surrounded, watched every minute of the day and night for ten years. The Old Ones were also waiting for the five children – Matt, Pedro, Scott, Jamie and Scarlett – to reap
pear. The moment that happened, they would be taken prisoner … as very nearly happened to you today.”

  “Except that you were there.”

  “You begin to see. Yes. The watchers were themselves being watched. I have spent thousands of hours waiting for you, Richard. It has been a long vigil and often I have thought to myself that it was a hopeless one. You have no idea how glad I am to see you now.”

  “So what’s happening in Cairo? How come there’s a war going on? Who were the soldiers at the pyramids? And there was a shape-changer with them…!”

  “Ah yes. The shape-changer. It is very rare to see one, although we know they help the government forces. The Old Ones do not like to show themselves. They prefer to work behind the scenes.

  “Much has occurred in ten years, my friend, and none of it has been good. In fact, when I look at what has happened to the world, I wonder if the Old Ones have not used their powers, playing with the fabric of time. Look at what they have done to you! You are gone for ten days but ten years have passed. Well, so it is for the world. It seems sometimes as if we flicker from crisis to crisis, that a year becomes a week, a week no more than a minute. How else can so many bad things happen in so short a space of time? The volcano that erupted in Japan. The tsunami that hit the coast of Australia. The plague in China. The earthquake in the west coast of America. The total failure of the crops and the famine that followed. Famine in the United States? Would you ever have believed it?”

  “What about London?”

  “Not all the catastrophes have been the work of nature, Richard. After the banking system collapsed, there were riots all over Europe. Much of my own city, Paris, was set ablaze. For London, it was a terrorist bomb. A nuclear bomb. Nine of them, in fact, each one destroying a major city in the United Kingdom on the same day.”

  Richard felt sick. So few words adding up to so much death. He simply couldn’t take in the enormity of what the Frenchman was saying. What he was being told was insane. He had been away for ten days, not ten years, and it was as if he was hearing the history of ten centuries.

  The Old Ones had made it happen. That was why they were here.

  “I will not tire you with the rest of it – not all at once,” Rémy said. “You only need to know the situation here. A military government has taken over Egypt. The same has happened in many places in the Middle East. The Supreme Council of the Armed Forces here is led by a man called Field Marshall Karim el-Akkad and he is utterly ruthless. He owes his power purely to the fact that he is supported by the Old Ones and he does everything that he is told. Citizens here are routinely kidnapped, tortured and killed. Everyone lives in fear.

  “There is, however, a resistance movement. It has been partly funded by the Nexus. We have been supplying them with food, arms and ammunition, much of it flown into Dubai and then carried here, a thousand kilometres across the desert. In return, they have been helping us watch over the pyramid. Government forces were waiting for you when you emerged this morning. The rebels then attacked them and brought you here.”

  “Here…?”

  “A rebel hospital and training centre. It is one of many. I will not say you are safe here because nowhere in the Middle East is safe. But they are operating on Scarlett even now and if it is at all possible for her to be saved, they will save her.”

  Richard was feeling exhausted. His mouth was dry. “I think I would like to have something to drink after all,” he said.

  “I will arrange it. We have a room here for you. We will get you fresh clothes and perhaps you need to have a sleep.”

  “And you’ll tell me about Scarlett?”

  “As soon as there is news, of course.”

  Albert Rémy stood up and went to the door. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you returned,” he said.

  Richard nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It’s great to be back.”

  Field Marshall Karim el-Akkad sat behind his desk on the second floor of the Abdeen Palace, a huge building in the eastern part of the city. Once it had been the headquarters of the President of Egypt and it was only right that he should have taken it over. Everything about the room was out of proportion. The white marble floor seemed to stretch for ever. The windows looking out over Qasr el-Nil Street were triple-height. The potted plants were the size of small trees. Even the desk dwarfed the man who occupied it.

  Akkad was exactly sixty years old. He was an ordinary-looking man, quite short and almost completely bald with just a few wisps of grey hair around his ears. His skin was dark, his eyes very brown. It would be easy to imagine him as a dentist or perhaps an accountant. There was a sort of willingness to please about him, a sense that he would apologize even as he was sentencing you to death. As if to make up for his physical appearance, he was wearing an elaborate military uniform. The jacket, trousers and shirt were all the same pale green. He had a dark tie and heavy epaulettes, both on his shoulders and on his collar. The only colour in the room came from the rows of medals displayed across his chest. There were so many of them that the effect was almost comical, as if the weight of them might actually make him topple over to one side.

  Today’s sandstorm had finally died down and outside, everything was quiet. Although much of Cairo was in ruins, Qasr el-Nil Street was still intact and a ring of steel had been thrown around the palace to protect it from rebel forces. Akkad was studying a report of a helicopter attack that had taken place the day before on Maadi, a wealthy suburb to the south which was believed to house a rebel stronghold. A nerve gas had been used and according to the report many thousands of people had died. The number was immaterial. If there had been rebels operating there, they were there no longer. Sometimes, to kill a wasp it was necessary to take out the entire nest.

  There was a knock on the door and, without waiting for an answer, two men appeared, both dressed in crisply ironed uniforms. In perfect unison, they marched in, almost as if they were one creature, joined at the hip. They saluted and stood to attention. Akkad did not look up from his document, even though he had finished reading it. He was making a point, allowing the silence to add to the tension in the room. He knew what the men were going to tell him. He had heard about it long before they arrived. For their part, Colonel Bassir and Major Farouk stayed still, trying not to show how nervous they were. Both had taken part in the operation at the Great Pyramid that morning. They had come to report their failure and they knew perfectly well that, as far as Akkad was concerned, failure was never an option.

  “So the girl escaped, I understand?” Akkad said at last, not looking up. He spoke in Arabic. He paused briefly, then allowed his eyes to travel from the page to the two men.

  “Yes, sir,” Bassir replied. He had been the commanding officer. He was thirty-two years old, married with two children, and right now he wondered if he would ever see them again. He had already decided on his strategy. He was going to blame Farouk. He had given the right orders. It was his junior who had failed to carry them out.

  “How did it happen?”

  “Rebel forces were waiting at the pyramid, sir. It seems incredible that they should have been there. How could they have known that the girl or any one of the Gatekeepers would appear? I had of course ordered Major Farouk to search the area, to make sure that it was secure. I am sorry to have to report that he failed in his duties.”

  Farouk knew what Bassir was doing. The two of them had served together for more than six years and were close friends. Their families met sometimes after evening prayer. And now Bassir was cold-bloodedly knifing him in the back. It was perfectly reasonable. Had their positions been reversed, he would have done exactly the same.

  “Did you follow the girl into the city?” Akkad asked, in a tone of voice that suggested he already knew the answer and that anyway, he didn’t really care.

  “We were unable to, sir. Too many of our men had been killed. Even the shape-changer was cut in half. Most of our vehicles were disabled. Everything happened very quickly, and of course there was als
o the sandstorm…”

  Akkad gazed at his commanding officer for the first time and suddenly there was a chill in his eyes which was anything but ordinary. There were stories that Akkad had been a ruthless fighter in the old Egyptian army. It had been his personal responsibility to interrogate political prisoners. Not a single one of them had lived to describe the experience. “Were you aware of how important it was to secure this girl?” he demanded. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  “Then how do you account for this failure?”

  “I obeyed your instructions to the letter. I gave the commands. The men were slow and ill-disciplined.”

  “Major Farouk was responsible for their training?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The accusation hung in the air. Akkad turned to Farouk and now spoke to him. “Do you have anything to add?”

  “No, sir.” Farouk stood his ground and waited. He knew that there was no point in arguing or trying to raise a defence. The Field Marshall would have made up his mind before either of the two men had come into the room. Even so, the silence seemed to drag on for an eternity before he announced his decision.

  “Colonel Bassir,” he said. “I want you to assemble an execution squad in the parade ground. You will choose four of our most accurate riflemen … we cannot afford any more errors. Full ceremonial uniform.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you can bring together a couple of regiments to witness the event. Shall we say one hour from now?”

  “Yes, sir.” Bassir hesitated. There was one detail missing. “Who is to be executed, sir?”

  “You are, Colonel Bassir.” Both men stared and Akkad went on quickly. “It is most unfortunate but this has been a serious blunder and you were the commanding officer. We have to make an example. That is all.”

  Bassir stood there, stunned. He tried to look at Farouk for help. But the other man turned away. Briefly, he thought of bringing out his own gun. It was there, hanging at his belt. No. That would be madness. In a way, Akkad had been generous to him. At least his death would be swift.