8: Oldest Story in the Book

"I went to pre-school in the States, little place on a hill across the river. Best friend was Kennedy. We were inseparable. Who knows what kind of connections I could have had if we'd stayed in the States. Always have had a knack for politics, everyone tells me so. Oh, hey, the lights are coming back on. Nope, false alarm. But anyway, when we moved to London, I transferred to St. Martin's. It's a posh little school in the upper-east side, strictly for the rich and famous, if you know what I mean. My family has money, of course, always has. Did I mention that I'm rich?"

The intern Ardeth had assigned to guard Jonathan nodded. She kept sneaking looks at the clock behind his head, though she doubted the man would notice, he was so wrapped up in his story. As long as she remembered to nod every once in a while, he didn't seem to mind that she wasn't paying attention. Honestly, the things she was forced to do to serve her country...

Suddenly her charge had lost interest in himself (what a change!) for a woman streaked by the desk where they sat, and he leapt up. "Meela!" Jonathan yelled, and she whirled around, eyes wide.

"Oh, it's you," she sighed. "I thought it was...never mind."

"Where have you been?"

Meela decided to be direct. "I'm the reincarnation of your father's mistress."

"Oh." Jonathan nodded. "Well, it was lovely while it lasted."

"Yes, we had some good times."

"See you around?" Jonathan held out his hand.

Meela shook it. "Of course. Bye."

"Bye."

As Meela ran off again, Jonathan returned to his chair and the poor intern, who was obviously more confused than ever. "Uh...who was that?"

"Ex-girlfriend. Hey..." Jonathan scooted his chair a little closer and wiggled his eyebrows in what he hoped was a seductive way. "You seeing anyone?"

The intern was spared the indignity of a response, for another person had stopped at the little desk. His flesh, if you could call it that, teemed with tiny little gold-tinged scarabs, and his eyes rolled around in the sockets a little owing to the lack of connective tissue. "Where is she?" he growled. Jonathan raised a hand and pointed down the hallway, though all that came out of his mouth was a squeak. "Thank you," said the corpse, and stalked off in the direction indicated.

Izzy, Evelyn and O'Connell sat in the darkened Oval Office for only a scant moment before Bey burst in, followed by several more agents. "Mr. President! Are you all right?"

"Yes, Bey, I can see just fine in the dark."

"We heard screaming."

"Wasn't us." Izzy turned to Evelyn. "Do you remember hearing screaming?"

"All I know," said O'Connell, "is that something is very, very wrong."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Honestly, people, it was just coincidence that al the lights went out and...there was an earthquake and screaming...at the same time...as I read...from the...Book of the...Dead," she finished quietly. "Oh."

"You read from the book?" screeched a man from the doorway. "You must not read from the book!"

A long period of silence followed this outburst. Bey cleared his throat. "Uh...who are you?"

The man stood up exceedingly straight and puffed his chest out. "Dr. John Chamberlain, official White House Egyptologist."

"We have an Egyptologist?" asked Izzy. "Why didn't I know about this?"

"Because, sir, they stuck my office the basement thirty years ago and I've toiled there in unheeded brilliance ever since."

"But...why do we have an Egyptologist?"

"Well, to cover up the scandal," answered Dr. Chamberlain, adjusting his fez. Everyone blinked a few times, not comprehending the apparent weight of his words. "Come on, people, President Carnahan?" he tried. "The Book of the Dead?" No luck. "Ivan Darkmann? Anastasia Velasquez? Love, sex, tragedy, intrigue? Don't you people read?"

"Bey," said Izzy, "get these agents out of here. We need to talk to Dr. Chamberlain alone. And O'Connell, get out."

"I'm not leaving Evelyn."

Now it was Izzy's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, Jesus, I never thought I'd see the day. O'Connell in l--"

"Izzy!" interrupted Rick. "Start talking, Chamberlain. Now."

Dr. Chamberlain sized Rick up, decided he did not care to get beaten up that day, and began the tale. "You all know the story of President Carnahan. Brilliant politician from Seattle, elected president in 1960, loving wife, two young children--"

"One of which would be me," said Evelyn quietly. "My brother's in the building, too, I'm sure he'd love to hear this."

"Oh. I see. Well, we'll just skip over the--"

"We need the whole story," said Izzy. "That includes the unpleasant parts. I'm sorry, Evy."

Dr. Chamberlain's eye began to twitch. "Anyway, his wife dies of cancer in '62. His mistress, however, Anastasia Velasquez, was in the picture long before that. Carnahan finds out, however, that his personal assistant, Ivan Darkmann, is having an affair with Anastasia and confronts the pair. Annie kills the president, kills herself, and Ivan disappears off the face of the earth."

"Yes?" asked Izzy. "What's new there?"

"That, Mr. President, is the story everyone knows. The truth, however, is much darker. Annie killed herself, yes, but she had no intention of staying dead. Somehow she gave Ivan instructions to find that Book--" He pointed to the tome which Evelyn still clutched. "He retrieved it, and attempted to resurrect her. He was stopped just in time, and cursed with the very same book."

"Cursed?" asked Evelyn. She set the Book carefully down on the desk and backed away. "What curse?"

"We believe..." said Dr. Chamberlain, "it was...the Hom Dai."

Evelyn's eyes widened but everyone else remained clueless. "The Hom Dai?" asked Bey. "What is that?"

"The worst of all Egyptian curses," answered Evelyn. "One they reserved only for the most evil of blasphemers."

"But who cursed him?"

"A renegade faction of the Secret Service took matters into their own hands. The vice president wanted nothing to do with it, however, and gave them all handsome severance packages to keep their mouths shut. They destroyed the corpse and all the evidence, and no one breathed a word of it for thirty years."

"Well they obviously didn't destroy the Book and key," said Evelyn. "That means they probably didn't get rid of the body, either."

"Exactly. I suppose we'll know soon enough, with you resurrecting him and all!!!"

O'Connell came to Evelyn's defense. "Hey, calm down, she didn't know."

"Calm down?!" shrieked the Egyptologist. "Calm down?! He's probably going to kill us all!!!"

"He's not going to kill you," said a new voice. "He's not a violent person."

Everyone whipped around to behold a woman standing in the doorway to the President's private office. "How did you get in there?" asked Izzy.

"I have a key," said the woman.

"Who are you?"

"It's Meela," supplied Evelyn. "Jonathan's girlfriend."

"Oh, no." Meela shook her head. "We've broken up."

"I'm sorry. Why?"

Before Meela could answer, a cold wind zipped through the room, and strange scratching noise filled their eardrums. "What the..." O'Connell began, but his question was answered soon enough by the appearance of...

Bugs! Tiny little bluish-gold winged things that burst from the floor and made straight for anything with flesh. "Scarabs!" cried Dr. Chamberlain, who whirled on his heel and ran for the exit. A mad dash ensued to escape the Oval Office, one which succeeded for everyone but the secret service agent who had unwittingly peeked in to see what everyone was running from.

When the scarabs were finished feasting on his corpse, they looked up to find that the office was by now empty except for another body...but wait, he was standing! Ooh, he was moving! More food! Yum yum!

Ivan entered the Oval Office seconds after it had been deserted by everyone but his dutiful herd of scarabs. "Go after them!" he instructed, but they didn't seem to want to leave the room. In fact, they were...moving toward him! "Hey!" he tried. "Get away! No, don't eat me! I'm already dead! You're supposed to chase the good guys! They went that way! I'm your master, damn it! Hee, hee, that tickles! No, bad scarab, bad!..."

The mummy sighed, resigned to their determination as the scarabs continued to chew at his already rotten muscles. He supposed it was about time to find some human sacrifices anyway... Now if he could just find the men who'd opened that chest...

~*~*~*~

If anyone reading this has flown into D.C. recently, I'd like to ask you a few questions about the airport for a scene in the *cough cough* sequel :):):)