The Eleventh Plague (28 page)

S
IR
G
EORGE
D
RAY
walked past the still-convulsing form of Godfrey Joyce, towards the small band of men at the far end of the audience chamber. He ignored Faroud and his two Scarabs – there was but one target for his attention.

‘So here we are, eh?’ he said. ‘Once again we find ourselves on opposite sides, Cornelius…and once again the odds are stacked against you. I should have put a bullet in your head back in Peru and saved myself a lot of trouble.’

‘Why are you here, George?’ asked Quaint. There was a noticeable edge to the conjuror’s voice, as if all he wanted to do was rip the old man apart one limb at a time. Had the guards not restrained him, he probably would have given it some serious consideration.

‘I just wanted to say hello to an old friend, what’s wrong with that?’ Dray mocked.

‘You don’t
have
any friends, George – old or otherwise – you stabbed them all in the back years ago,’ said Quaint. ‘So you’re the brains behind this plot, are you? I should have known. Poisoning the Nile is a bit dramatic for you, isn’t it?’

Dray gave a grin that scarred his face. ‘Actually, lad, this one’s
not my doing. Lady Jocasta here has a wonderful imagination when it comes to death…just take one look at that bleeding sack of guts over there.’ He pointed at Joyce, twitching on the ground in a pool of blood. ‘She will be greatly rewarded by the Hades Consortium.’

‘How very like you, George. You’re still surrounding yourself with pretty things lacking in intelligence, I see,’ Quaint said dryly, his eyes nodding towards Lady Jocasta.

Dray laughed. ‘And you are still surrounding yourself with inferiors to make yourself look better, I see.’

‘I am no inferior,
old man
, I am Aksak of the Clan Scarabs!’ snapped Faroud, struggling against his captors. ‘And who are you, may I ask?’

‘This is Sir George Dray, Scarab dog!’ snarled Lady Jocasta, striding towards Faroud. She gripped his dark face between her fingernails and squeezed tight, drawing blood from his cheeks. ‘And you will bow down before him!’

‘I would sooner die,’ snarled Faroud.

Sir George Dray blinked slowly, a granite expression on his face. ‘I would be glad to accommodate that request, lad…as Cornelius knows only too well…so if you’ve finished with your interruptions, maybe I can finish my little chat with your friend, hmm? So you know all about Jocasta’s wee project then, Cornelius? Renard told you, did he? With his dying breath and all that? And, of course, righteous Cornelius Quaint couldn’t let such a terrible catastrophe occur, and so you came halfway around the world to try to stop us?’

‘My social calendar was dry this month,’ said Quaint. ‘This plot is nothing short of mass murder, George. Surely you must know that? This is on a larger scale than anything the Consortium has attempted before. Killing so many people, it’s inhuman! You’re
an evil old bastard, true – but this isn’t your usual fun and games. I
know
you. You like to see the whites of your victims’ eyes.’ Quaint switched his verbal attack towards Lady Jocasta. ‘Poison is the weapon of cowards. This plot is no better than a knife in Egypt’s back!’

‘How dare you?’ Lady Jocasta stepped forward and slapped her hand across Quaint’s cheek. ‘It is far more civilised than
that
! Do you have any idea of the amount of planning necessary to engineer such slaughter? Can you possibly comprehend the complexity of it all? Of course not! You are an ant.’ Lady Jocasta flicked her ponytail, preening herself, watching the spite in Quaint’s eyes ignite. ‘From what I hear about you, Mr Quaint, you like to muddy your hands in other people’s business. You may have had luck in the past, but it has now run out.’

Quaint glared at Lady Jocasta. ‘I don’t know who you are, woman, but I wouldn’t stick my neck out if I were you. You haven’t won yet and I’m full of surprises.’

‘Typical Englishman. All swagger and boast,’ said Lady Jocasta. ‘Is that not right, Sir George?’

‘Oh, yes, dear. Quite so,’ confirmed Dray. ‘You’re in for a bit of a shock, Cornelius, because you see, I knew you were coming. I led you here, for God’s sake! So did you really think that I would just allow the schedule for our plot to continue, knowing the risk that you possess?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Quaint.

‘You put up a valiant effort getting this far, but really you never stood a chance,’ said Sir George. ‘I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.’

Quaint shook his head. ‘Your overconfidence will be your undoing, George.’

‘Did I not tell you that he’s an arrogant bastard, Jocasta?’ Dray
put on a sympathetic face, like a parent about to tell their child that Father Christmas doesn’t exist. ‘Cornelius, you really have no idea, do you? I hate to break it to you, son, but this battle was fought and won before you arrived, and unfortunately…you lost. Dear, oh, dear…how deluded you are,’ he said, folding his tongue into his cheek. ‘Stopping what’s in motion is way beyond your grasp now…unless you are a better magician than I give you credit for. Jocasta, my dear, what is the latest status report for our plot? And you might want to pay attention to this, Cornelius.’

Lady Jocasta licked her lips. Watching Quaint’s bluster deflate, her face could not express any more satisfaction if it tried. ‘We had intended to implement the plan at midnight tomorrow, on New Year’s Eve. However, due to your unwanted involvement, Mr Quaint, it was felt that the longer we waited, the greater the possibility of you upsetting things. You do, after all, come with a reputation for poking your nose in where it does not belong. So to that end, Elder Nastasi of the Clan Scarabs will begin facilitating the dispersal of the toxin
tonight
…in but a few hours, one day ahead of schedule.’

‘
Tonight?
’ Quaint cursed the word.

‘Nastasi?’ asked Faroud.

Sir George looked over at Lady Jocasta and waved her to continue.

‘Nastasi is not the man he once was. He has seen his former glory slip through his fingers, and so when we offered him a chance to reclaim what was rightfully his, the old fool practically bit our hands off!’ she said. ‘The Hades Consortium has given Nastasi the necessary support to gain control of all the nine regions…in exchange for his conformity to my plan. Tonight, on the stroke of midnight, those Scarabs unified under his reign will deploy the poison into the River Nile.’

Sir George smiled thinly. ‘And their fate once this deed is done, Jocasta?’

‘Purged, Sir George, just like the contagion they are,’ Lady Jocasta answered. A tiny, sadistic giggle escaped the corner of her mouth. ‘Every…single…one of them!’

‘You forced my hand, Cornelius,’ said Dray. ‘All you have done is cement Egypt’s fate that much quicker. I’ve been waiting all week just to see that look on your face!’

‘All week? How did you know I was in Egypt?’ asked Quaint.

‘Because I
organised
the whole thing – why else do you think you failed?’ snorted Sir George, shaking his head as if it were glaringly obvious. ‘When I heard that you were sniffing around London asking questions about our organisation, I arranged for one of my contacts to find himself in your company and give you some very specific information.’ Dray let this knowledge permeate for a moment. ‘Mr Ferris is a loathsome individual, to be sure…but give him a few quid and he’s as loyal as a terrier.’

Quaint’s eyes narrowed. ‘
Ferret?
’

‘You followed my little trail of breadcrumbs so willingly. How else was I to make sure you came to Egypt? I knew that I couldn’t prevent you from getting involved, so if you were going to come, I wanted it on my terms.’ Dray grinned at the effect his words were having, and he turned the screw one more rotation. ‘Since I knew that you were sailing on the
Silver Swan
it was simplicity itself to arrange for my man Nadir to join you onboard, the same gent that babysat our little consignment of poison. His attempts to kill you failed…clearly…so he engineered events so that dear old Madame would come to Mr Joyce’s attention. I knew that you would go to the ends of the earth for her – it was your predictability that I was relying on, laddie…and you didn’t let me down!’

‘You toyed with me,’ said Quaint, with not a tinge of surprise in his voice.

‘And you were fantastic!’ replied Dray, inching himself forward on his cane. ‘I may look like a foolish old man, but we both know I am anything but.’

‘That’s true,’ said Quaint. ‘You are Satan himself clothed in the ragged old shell of a crippled body!’

Dray curled his lips. ‘That’s mildly insulting at best, Cornelius – you can do better than that.’

‘You used me! You used Joyce…and you’re using Nastasi too? Is that all people are to you? Currency to barter with?’ yelled Quaint.

‘Joyce’s ambition brought about his fate, not me. He thought he was a big spider in the middle of his web, catching flies left, right and centre. But little did he know that he was just another fly…in a web much larger than he could possibly imagine. And look where it got him.’

‘Ever the puppeteer…just like you were with Oliver, always in
control
, your word above everyone else’s – even to your own flesh and blood! Your filthy Consortium was pulling
his
strings for years!’

‘My son has nothing to do with this!’ barked Dray. He caught the eyes of the head guard gripping Quaint’s arms. ‘Take him and his Aksak friend to Jailer Agnafar! Secure them…and do it properly or I’ll have your head on my mantelpiece! Break them…make them bleed, but do not kill them…not just yet.’

Faroud’s eyes flicked to Kulfar and Nehmet at his side. ‘What about my men here? I am their Aksak and they are merely following my orders. They mean nothing to you!’

‘That is very true,’ said Dray. ‘Guards, release the Aksak’s men.’

‘So you do have
some
dignity, after all,’ said Faroud.

‘You interrupted me, Aksak,’ said Dray. ‘I was going to say release them…of their lives.’

Faroud watched helplessly as the guards holding Kulfar and Nehmet removed their blades from their scabbards in unison and thrust them into the Scarabs’ bodies. Once more, wailing screams echoed around the cavern – and then promptly ceased.

‘Remove these two from my sight!’ said Sir George to his guards.

‘George, wait!’ shouted Quaint as he was dragged away. ‘Think about what you’re doing. Think about Oliver! Would
he
have wanted you to go this far?’

Sir George watched Quaint and Faroud disappear from his sight into the belly of the Consortium’s sanctum sanctorum. He turned his head slowly to Lady Jocasta.

‘You see what I mean, lass? Like a lit torch in a haystack!’

‘But an intriguing foe, nonetheless,’ replied Lady Jocasta.

‘Oh, he’s intriguing all right,’ Dray muttered, nodding his agreement. ‘I wonder what he meant.’

‘By what, sir?’

‘His parting shot about my son. He said: “Would he have wanted you to go this far?”’ replied Dray. ‘Seems an odd choice of last words, don’t you think?’ He pondered this, tugging at his large earlobes thoughtfully. ‘Before Mr Quaint is executed, I think that perhaps he and I should have one last chat.’

Lady Jocasta felt her nerves constrict inside her stomach. If Cornelius Quaint was implicated in the failure of her plot in London, she could not possibly allow him to speak to Sir George.

She watched the old man drag his racked body from the chamber. When she was certain he had left, and she could no longer hear his grunting groans, she slowly set off towards the detention block. Cornelius Quaint would be dead long before he had a chance to open his mouth.

M
ADAME
D
ESTINE MADE
her way along the carved stone corridors. She was barefoot and the many skirts of her long dress trailed snakelike behind her. The Hades Consortium guard had thought it perfectly reasonable to lead her directly to the holding cells, and had even unlocked the main gate for her before returning to his duties with a vague scratch of his head, as if enchanted by a spell. Entering through the main gate, she heard muffled voices close by. The corridor was populated with an array of cells – some large enough to hold many men, and some no bigger than a wardrobe. Every so often she would freeze as the voices rose in anguish, her nerves on a knife’s edge. Finding Cornelius was Destine’s primary objective, and her sensitivity to emotions gave her an advantage. All she had to do was close her eyes and focus on the soul in the most torment and her gifts would surely lead her right to him.

But in the Hades Consortium detention block, torment was a common emotion.

She heard a man cry out in pain.

Moving unerringly towards the sound, the closer that she got, the more obvious it was that someone was at the receiving end
of a vicious beating. Her sensory gifts were working overtime trying to compensate for such raw emotion – fear, pain, anger, misery. They were everywhere within the jail, but none more so than in a cell less than ten feet away from her. With her curiosity driving her onwards, Destine slipped into the empty cell next door and pressed her ear against the wall.

‘Scream for me, Scarab pig!’ yelled a man’s voice, followed by another man’s forced exhalation. The victim wheezed, desperate to catch a breath. ‘Jailer Mullah, this will take some time!’ he called to his colleague in the adjoining cell.

‘My one is not talking either, Jailer Veriz,’ snarled the Consortium jailer. ‘Come on, dog – plead for your miserable life…what is left of it! Lady Jocasta has ordered you to die quickly – and I am more than happy to accommodate!’

This other prisoner was struck. Destine heard the victim gasp for breath, before retching. She heard three whispered words, more than enough to recognise the speaker.

‘
Go to hell
,’ snarled Cornelius Quaint.

Destine rested her head against the cell wall and muttered a silent prayer. Now came the hard part…how was she to get him out of that place? Charming a guard was one thing – but charming a whole platoon of them? A faint, melodic whistle wafted down the corridor behind her. Someone was coming! She squashed herself against the wall behind the cell’s iron door, hearing the jangle of keys and heavy footsteps. Moments later, a broad-shouldered guard strode down the hallway and into the cell next door to hers.

‘Sir George has sent an urgent command!’ said the booming voice of the head jailer. ‘He wants the white-haired one to be taken to the audience chamber immediately! Hang on…what is this?’ He stopped and Destine’s heart missed a beat. ‘Look at him! The man is half dead!’

‘We…we were merely following Lady Jocasta’s orders, Jailer Agnafar. She wishes this Englishman killed for his treachery to the Hades Consortium.’

‘That order has since been countermanded by Sir George! You are lucky, Jailer Mullah. Had this man died, it would not have been long until you would have
joined
him!’ snarled the burly Agnafar. ‘Do what you will to the Scarab, but take the Englishman to the audience chamber right now, or these dogs will not be the only ones at the receiving end of a beating!’

‘Yes, Jailer Agnafar.’

‘Sorry, Jailer Agnafar.’

There was a sudden sound of jangling keys and unlocking locks.

Destine’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach as she witnessed Cornelius’s unmistakable shock of curly hair dragged past her hiding place by his guard. He was soon out of her sight, and out of her grasp.

‘Right, you piece of camel dung, now it is just you and me,’ yelled the voice of Jailer Veriz. ‘You are the leader of those Scarabs, yes? Aksak Faroud, they call you? Well, Aksak…let us see if you are still as high and mighty once I have finished with you!’

The chains binding Faroud to the wall shook and rattled, followed by the sickening dull thud of knuckles against flesh. Destine winced as Faroud’s pain jolted through her. If she was going to make a move she had better do it soon. The man in the next cell did not have long to live, and her instincts told her that if she and Cornelius were to escape the Hades Consortium’s lair, they would need Aksak Faroud’s help…