The Eye of the Serpent (21 page)

‘Well, Mr Corcoran, just for the record . . . it's the
British
Museum.'

‘Hmm. Beats me why an institution as important as that would send somebody all the way out here to look at a few scraps of pottery. Or is there something else they're not telling me about?'

Oh yes, there's something else, all right
, thought Sonchis.
Something that your tiny brain couldn't hope to comprehend
; but he smiled thinly and said, ‘They may be little pieces of pottery to you, Mr Corcoran, but to a man such as myself, they are the building blocks of history.'

‘Is that right?' muttered Biff. He pulled the stub of his cigarette from his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke. ‘And there was me thinking that they were just broken vases.'

The woman called Charlie appeared from out of the crowd and walked towards the automobile. As she approached, she raised her camera.

‘One for the family album,' she said. And she snapped a photograph of Sonchis, who raised his hands to cover his face an instant too late.

‘Please don't do that!' he snapped angrily. For a moment he had felt the creatures that made up his flesh poised to scatter in all directions. He concentrated and they settled down.

‘Hey, keep ya shirt on,' said Charlie. ‘I never met such a bunch of prima donnas. First that French dame and now you! Don't you wanna be famous, Professor?'

‘Oh, I
shall
be famous,' he assured her. ‘But not for the reasons you think.'

‘Yeah, I can see the cover now,' sneered Biff. ‘Professor deciphers code on ancient pot.' He lifted a hand to frame an imaginary piece of text. ‘A GIFT FROM MACEY'S!' He sniggered and Sonchis had to quell an impulse to throttle the life out of him.

‘Hey, Biff, you're missing all the excitement over here,' said Charlie. ‘They just brought out a
chair
. Imagine that, a chair! I got half a dozen in my apartment back home.'

‘Yeah and I bet they're nearly as old as King Tut's too,' said Biff and then laughed at his own poor joke. He turned back to Sonchis. ‘Say, Prof., if you see Ethan Wade, tell him he's to let me know if he finds anything new.'

‘I'll tell him,' said Sonchis, and he tapped
Mohammed on the shoulder. ‘Drive on,' he ordered. Mohammed put the Ford into gear and started to move off, but Biff walked alongside for a moment.

‘Say, Mohammed, that's another thing,' he said. ‘I'm running a little low on provisions, if you know what I mean. I could do with another bottle.'

Mohammed nodded. ‘Leave it to me, Mr Corcoran,' he said. ‘I'm a little busy right now, but I'll get what you need just as soon as I can.'

Biff lifted a hand and the Ford accelerated away. It rounded a bend in the road and began to climb the hill beyond, the ancient engine protesting all the way. Sonchis became aware that Mohammed was studying him in the mirror again.

‘How is your search progressing?' asked Mohammed after a decent interval.

‘My search?' growled Sonchis.

‘For Mr Hinton. Did you find out anything at the bazaar last night?'

Sonchis shook his head. ‘I found nothing,' he said.

‘And we shall return there tonight?'

‘No. I've decided to concentrate my efforts in another area.'

‘But . . . I could have sworn that was Mr
Hinton we saw, the night before.'

‘You are mistaken. There were some similarities, for sure, but—'

‘I
know
Mr Hinton very well and I would be willing to swear—'

‘Mohammed, why don't you stick to driving and leave the detective work to me,' said Sonchis, loading enough venom into his voice to make the insolent driver close his mouth.

They drove on in silence, and soon came to Wade's camp. Few people were around. A group of native workers were standing around drinking cups of tea, and the cook, the man called McCloud, was wiping down the large dining table with a filthy-looking wet cloth. He looked up as Mohammed's automobile ground to a halt.

‘Ah, Mr Llewellyn,' he said. ‘You're back, are you?'

‘So it would appear. Where is everybody?' asked Sonchis, climbing out of the vehicle and taking a quick look around.

‘Depends who you mean by everybody,' said Archie evasively.

‘Mr Wade?'

‘He's, er . . . not around at the moment. I
think he went into Luxor with some of the others.' He was lying, that much was obvious. Both Wade's automobiles were parked nearby. Wade must be up at the tomb, Sonchis decided, but of course there was no way Archie was going to mention that.

‘I was hoping to get a look inside the tomb,' he said quietly.

‘What tomb would that be?' asked Archie.

‘I think you know. Oh look, it's quite all right – Mr Wade told me I could have a look at it any time I liked.'

‘He didn't say anything to me about that,' Archie told him.

Sonchis considered his options. He hadn't anticipated this. ‘So who else is around?' he asked.

‘Mr Coates is in the mess tent preparing lunch.' Archie rolled his eyes despairingly. ‘And Doc Hopper's in his tent.'

Sonchis evaluated the situation quickly. He had already thought about claiming Wade as his host, putting himself in control of the dig in one fell swoop; but since the American wasn't around, perhaps he would settle for the big shambling Lancastrian doctor, who would
probably prove to be just as useful. As a valued member of the team, he would be granted full access to the tomb; and of course, everybody trusted a doctor, didn't they?

‘I'll just have a quick word with the doctor,' he said. ‘Something I forgot to ask him before.'

He started walking towards the medic's tent.

‘Aye. Well, you must stick around for luncheon, Mr Llewellyn. Mr Coates is preparing a soufflé.' Archie shook his head. ‘I ask you, a bloody soufflé. He must think he's working at the Ritz or something!'

Llewellyn ignored him. There was no time to waste on this. He had to be quick and quiet. One scream from Doc Hopper could ruin everything. Wilfred Llewellyn had proved useful for a while, but clearly there was no way the rest of the team would allow him near the tomb. As Hopper, he could live right here at the dig and go in and out of the burial chamber at his leisure.

He looked in through the open flap of the tent and found the doctor sitting at his improvised desk, writing in what looked like a journal.

‘Excuse me, Doctor. I hope you will forgive the intrusion . . .'

Doc Hopper looked up from his work a little
wearily. ‘Mr Llewellyn,' he said. ‘You again. What can I do for you?'

‘It's a rather delicate matter,' said Sonchis, stepping into the tent. ‘I've been bitten by an insect and the bite is looking rather nasty. I wondered if you might be kind enough to cast an eye over it.'

‘Of course.' His professional instincts aroused, Doc Hopper turned away from the desk to find that his patient was closing and buttoning the tent flaps. ‘There's no need for that, surely?' he said.

Sonchis moved closer. ‘I wanted a little privacy,' he said. He took off his jacket and threw it into a corner, then began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I was bitten in an awkward place, on my back, somewhere very hard for me to inspect.'

‘I see.' Doc Hopper stood up. ‘Where exactly?'

‘Here,' said Sonchis. And his left hand grabbed the doctor around the neck, exerting prodigious pressure. Meanwhile he clamped his right hand across the man's mouth. Hopper's eyes widened in surprise – a surprise that deepened immeasurably as Sonchis's hand suddenly came apart and swarmed outwards to cover his entire face.

Doc Hopper tried to struggle but Llewellyn's grip was too powerful, and now he felt
hard-bodied
things
skittering across his face and into the openings of his ears and nostrils, followed by a blossoming of incredible pain as tiny jaws went to work on the soft flesh within. He opened his mouth in a desperate attempt to drag in some air, but more of the things spilled down his throat, making him retch. His head was spinning; he could no longer breathe and the pain was rising within him like an unspeakable tide from which there was no escape.

He sank slowly to the ground, his body quivering, and when death finally came, it was a merciful release.

ALEC, ETHAN, MADELEINE
and Mickey walked back from the tomb, carefully carrying the papyrus scrolls between them. Ethan spotted Mohammed's car by the roadside and sent Mickey on ahead to distract him, while the rest of them took the scrolls straight to Madeleine's tent and laid them out on her desk. She found a towel and draped it protectively across them to shield them from sight and from harm.

‘It is very irregular doing it like this,' she told Ethan. ‘These are very fragile documents – they could easily be damaged.'

‘I'm sure you'll be gentle with them,' he
reassured her. ‘I need answers, and everything around here seems to move like molasses in winter. But listen, both of you, let's not say a word about this until we know what we've got. I've already warned Mickey to keep his trap shut. I don't want everybody getting all excited and then we find we've got nothing more interesting than Akhenaten's shopping lists.'

‘Madeleine doesn't even think it is Akhenaten,' said Alec gloomily. ‘And I'm sorry to say I agree with her. What a shame if Uncle Will searched all those years for nothing.'

‘Not for nothing,' Madeleine assured him. ‘'Ooever that tomb belongs to, it is a very exciting find that is going to set the world of archaeology on fire. Nobody 'as ever found something like this.'

From outside there was the sound of a gong being struck.

‘What the hell is that?' muttered Ethan. He stuck his head out of the tent to see Coates standing by the dining table, looking faintly ridiculous in a white apron and tall chef 's hat.

‘Luncheon is about to be served,' he announced dramatically.

Madeleine gave a tut of irritation. ‘Per'aps I
skip the food,' she said. ‘I would rather get on with my translating.'

‘Are you kidding?' Ethan stared at her. ‘Coates is in charge of the cooking now. This could be the first decent meal we've had since we started this dig. Come on, Maddie, what difference will another half-hour make?' He took her arm and led her out of the tent. Alec followed, marvelling at the fact that Madeleine, who not so long ago could have been counted on to shout at Ethan for being so forward, just smiled and went obediently after him.

The three of them took their places at the table.

‘Archie, you appear to have prepared an extra place setting,' shouted Coates.

‘Aye, that's for Mr Llewellyn.' Archie came out of the tent, carefully carrying a huge soufflé. The smell of it caught Alec's nostrils, reminding him that he had skipped breakfast that morning because he was so eager to enter the burial chamber.

‘Where's he got to?' asked Ethan.

Mohammed approached the table with Mickey. ‘He wanted to ask more questions. I think he went to talk to Doc Hopper.'

‘Oh yeah? I bet the doc was delighted about that.'

Mohammed moved closer. ‘Actually, Mr Wade, I wanted to talk to you about Mr Llewellyn. There's something very strange going on—'

‘Hey, now look at that!' cried Ethan delightedly. Archie had just set down the soufflé. ‘Mr Coates, that looks absolutely delicious!' He glanced apologetically at Archie. ‘No offence,' he added.

‘None taken,' growled Archie but he looked far from happy about the situation. ‘Of course, if I'd realized that this was the kinda grub you wanted, I could have provided it. You only had to say.'

An incredulous silence followed this remark. It was evident that nobody believed he had the first idea how to make a soufflé.

‘Oh yes,' said Archie, warming to his theme. ‘Many's the time, back in the war years, ah'd send my lads over the top wi' a good hot helping of soufflé in their guts. It might be the last meal they ever ate, so it had to be top notch! The sergeant major said to me once, he said, “Archie, an army fights on its stomach, and thanks to you, our lads have stomachs to beat the band”.'

Madeleine looked puzzled by this last remark.
‘You are saying that Scotish soldiers 'ave the big bellies?' she said; and Alec had to stifle a laugh.

‘Forget it,' said Archie, and went to get the cutlery.

Ethan turned back to Mohammed. ‘Sorry – what were you saying about Llewellyn?'

‘I can't explain it exactly. It's a feeling. There's something odd about him.'

‘You're telling me!'

‘No, I mean something
different
. It is as though he has changed somehow, ever since that night in the bazaar, when we saw Mr Hinton—'

‘You saw Tom?' cried Alec in amazement.