Chapter Eleven – Evil Intentions
Spencer Milton and Victor Croft had spent hours trying to find Ardeth Bey. They'd contacted everyone Milton and Bey had gone to school with who might have seen or heard from him but to no avail. They had connected with everyone who sold information in every slum in London but none of them had heard of the tall, tattooed man. Ardeth Bey, as far as London was concerned, did not exist.
"It's goddamn hopeless, you know," Croft mused over a glass of Milton's very expensive brandy. "Bey is either very well hidden or gone. After all, it's been almost three weeks. He could be back in Egypt by now."
"Without us knowing?" Spencer Milton was skeptical. "We've got informants in every airfield and dock on the island. There's no way he's gotten away without our knowing it. He's here. We just have to find the rat hole he's hiding in."
Milton's butler knocked quietly at the library door. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but there's a gentleman to see you. A Mr. Sidney Black."
Milton scowled. Black was the last person he wanted to see right now. He waved his butler away after indicating he should show the man in.
"Spencer. Victor. A fine evening, is it not?" Black asked pleasantly after the butler had left.
"Yeah. Bloody wonderful," Spencer Milton toasted his guest with a negligent wave of his whiskey glass.
"You are out of sorts this evening." Sidney Black observed sarcastically, tapping a newspaper against his thigh. "Problems?"
Victor Croft snorted. "You could say that," he muttered into his snifter.
"Anything I can help with?" Black's icy tone gave them fair warning that he was tired of playing at twenty questions.
"Ardeth Bey," Milton choked out, "has vanished off the face of the earth. You would think that a six-foot tall, tattooed Egyptian would stand out in a crowd of Englishman, now wouldn't you? "
Black sighed and sat down. "You would think so. My contacts have turned up nothing as well. I don't know, gentlemen, perhaps we should just sit back and think about this a bit more. Where does a man like him go when he's visiting? Who does he see? What does he see? We need to give this more thought."
He tossed the newspaper onto the side table and reached for the glass Victor Croft held out to him.
"My God!"
Spencer Milton's shout and the accompanying sound of shattering glass as his drink fell from his fingers made the other two men jump.
"Are you insane, man?" Croft wanted to know as he brushed sloshed brandy from his coat sleeve.
"It's her!" Milton yelled, pointing furiously at the newspaper. "It's that woman who was with Bey at the docks."
The three of them stared at the headline on the front page of the London Times.
Museum to Host Gala Reception Honoring New Ancient Egyptian Exhibit
Below it was a photograph of a woman standing beside a sarcophagus. Croft picked up the paper and began to read the accompanying article aloud.
The British Museum is pleased to host an elegant reception tomorrow evening to unveil its new Wonders of Ancient Egypt Exhibit. Mrs. Evelyn O'Connell, Curator of the British Museum renowned Bembridge Scholar, will be the hostess for the evening's festivities, which include an exclusive private showing of newly acquired Egyptian artifacts. "As you know," she told the Times in an interview, "our exhibit was all but ruined by fire a year ago. We have refurbished as many of the artifacts as we could, and, thanks to connections I have in Egypt, we're unveiling some wonderful new artifacts as well. Including some ancient texts believed to belong to some of the mythical tribes of the ancient world."
The reception begins at seven o'clock and donations received will benefit the Fire Restoration Project. "We've still a long way to go, toward undoing all the damage from the fire but we've made a very nice start," the lovely Mrs. O'Connell told this reporter. The museum is counting on London Society to come out in force to support their efforts.
"Are you certain, Milton? Are you certain that's the woman you saw?" Black was staring at the photograph.
"Yes! Absolutely. I've no doubt that is the woman I saw with Bey."
Sidney Black stroked his small mustache. "Gentlemen, I suggest you have your valets press your tuxedos. We are going to a gala."
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"Now, Jonathan, you're certain you'll be all right with the children tonight?"
Jonathan Carnahan laughed at his sister's uneasy tone. "Of course, old mum. We'll be just fine, won't we kids?"
"Oh, yeah, mum. We're great. Right, Ziz?"
"Yes, Aunt Evy. Uncle Jon has said that we are going to have much fun tonight." Azizah's innocent tone was a perfect second of Alex's.
"You are planning on untying him eventually, aren't you?" Evy wondered.
The two children looked up from the knots they were busy tying around their uncle's ankles.
"Oh, yeah. Of course." Alex assured her.
"Uh, Jonathan? Can you explain why you're tied to a chair in the living room?" Rick appeared at the top of the stairs, straightening his tie.
"We are playing, Uncle O'Connell!" Azizah told him happily as she wound another loop of rope about Jonathan's legs.
"Playing what?" he wondered.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Evy warned.
Rick shook his head as he descended the stairs to stand beside his wife. "You're right. I don't wanna know. Forget I asked." He gave Evy a long look then whistled appreciatively. "You look gorgeous."
"Thank you." Evy blushed prettily. She'd picked the gold satin evening dress because of the embroidery that wound through the fabric like snakes. The heavy material clung to her curves and the sleeveless tunic style reminded her of the gowns she'd seen in her visions. "I do hope everyone enjoys themselves this evening. Most of the society ladies attending aren't especially interested in ancient Egyptian artifacts."
"Then why are they coming?' Rick asked.
"Money, old chap," Jonathan answered. "These society matrons are absolute swimming in it."
"And the Museum would like them to send a bit of it our way," Evy added. "Are Ardeth and Khay ready yet?"
"Yes, we are. Well, I am anyway." Rick and Evy turned as Khayriyyah's voice carried down from the balcony.
"Khay! You look lovely! I still can't believe Ardeth bought that dress for you! He has amazing taste, unlike some other men I can name." Evy turned a sideways glance toward her husband.
"What?" Rick looked hurt. "I have good taste. I bought you that great sweater, remember?"
Evy cringed. "I remember." She turned to Khay. "It was orange with green dots all over it."
"But it was warm!" Rick grinned. "Okay, I admit it. I am well aware that when it comes to women's clothes, I am not the best one to choose what's fashionable. Well, outer clothes at least. There was that nightgown I got you for Christmas last year..." He stopped when Evy's elbow connected with his midsection.
"We'll not discuss that here," she chided.
Khay laughed. "I consider myself lucky to have a husband with such excellent taste. Speaking of husbands, isn't he down here yet?" She looked around as if expecting to see Ardeth in the room.
Rick and Evy both shook their heads. "He'll be along soon, I imagine," Rick volunteered. "It can't take that long to put on those robes."
Jonathan chuckled.
"What's so funny?" Evy asked suspiciously.
"Nothing!" Jonathan's face was contrite. "Nothing at all."
"You're not telling us something. I can tell." Evelyn O'Connell's eyes narrowed at her brother. "Spill it. Or I'll tell those two not to untie you 'til we get home."
"It's nothing, honestly, just that - do you really think Ardeth would wear his desert robes to a society event?"
"What else would he wear?" Rick wondered.
"I believe the rule is quite clear as to what is appropriate for such events, is it not?"
Everyone turned toward Ardeth's voice.
"Bloody hell, Uncle Ardeth, look at you!"
And they did look. As a matter of fact, they stared. Evy was so taken aback by the sight before her that she forgot to correct her son's language. For Ardeth was not wearing his desert robes. He wore a tuxedo. A white shirt and black bow tie complemented the black pants that brushed against the tops of black leather shoes. Ardeth's black curls had been brushed until they caught the light and hung to his shoulders in stark contrast to the heavy white silk of his jacket. Onyx and gold cufflinks flashed at his wrists.
Azizah finally broke the silence when she gave Jonathan a loud kiss on the cheek. "It looks wonderful, Uncle Jon! Oh, Babu! You are so handsome!"
"I got to admit, brother, that looks a damn sight better on you than that dress would have."
"Oh, my! Jonathan, you had something to do with this?" Evy asked, gawking at the sight of Ardeth in his evening clothes.
"Well, not really. It was Ardeth's idea. I only gave him the name of my tailor."
Ardeth's eyes had not left those of his wife. Her silence was disconcerting. "Are you not pleased, Khayriyyah?" He asked quietly, a worried frown creasing his handsome face. "Is this not appropriate?"
Khay's hand went to her throat. "Goodness, no! I mean yes! I mean, oh, Ardeth! You look wonderful!"
"Oh, yes," Evy assured him quickly. "Absolutely!"
Rick looked from one awestruck female to the other. "Well at least you won't have to worry about the ladies enjoying the exhibit," he remarked dryly. "If they're anything like you two, they won't even notice it."
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Sidney Black wasn't sure if the crowd of people at the Museum was a curse or a blessing. He supposed it depended on how you looked at it. A curse, because it made it harder to search for one person, namely Bey. A blessing because once they found him, it would be much easier to spirit him off.
"Do you see him?" Victor Croft asked with a smile as he handed him a glass of champagne.
"No." Black smiled back. They were making sure they fit the happy partygoer image that everyone else was adopting. "However, I did see the O'Connell woman over in the main gallery a moment ago and introduced myself. I told her I was deeply interested in the newly uncovered texts, being somewhat of an amateur scholar on the ancient desert tribes. She said a friend of hers was here whom I should meet who could give me all sorts of helpful information on the subject."
"Do you suppose it's Bey?" Croft wondered. But Black didn't answer. His eyes were firmly fixed on the other side of the room. "Sidney?" Croft made to wave a hand in front of the thin man's face but it was caught in an iron grip.
"Look over there." Black's voice was quiet, icy.
Croft followed his gaze and found the object of Black's attention immediately. A tall man dressed in an immaculate white tuxedo was standing with his back to them. He looked no different from any number of men here tonight but for one thing - all the other men here had short hair. This man's hair fell to his shoulders in curling black waves. Suddenly, the man they watched straightened imperceptibly. Sidney Black could swear this man knew someone was watching him. Then the man turned and Croft and Black found themselves staring at the tattooed face of Ardeth Bey.
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"O'Connell?" Ardeth walked through the dark exhibit hall toward the lighted office at the other end. One of the maids working the reception had told him that Mr. O'Connell wanted to see him in the office. Khayriyyah had asked if he wanted her to go with him, but he told her stay and enjoy the party. He would find out what Rick wanted and be right back.
Ardeth moved forward cautiously. For some odd reason, the sixth sense that had always warned him of danger was making the back of his neck prickle. He tried to shake off the feeling. After all, what could happen to him here? This was the British Museum, there were dozens of people around, and no one knew he was going to be here. It was perfectly safe. He'd used this reasoning on Nadhir and the London Med-jai when they wanted to send bodyguards with him, he'd used this reasoning on Rick when he asked about Spencer Milton's desire for revenge, and he'd used it on himself every five minutes since the uneasy feeling started. He was on a holiday of sorts and he wasn't going to allow his misguided sense of danger spoil his evening so he deliberately ignored it.
"O'Connell!" He called a bit louder, then chuckled to himself. For some reason he couldn't call his brother by anything other than his last name. Ten years of habit, he supposed, but it still made him laugh.
"Someday," he thought, "I will surprise them all and call him 'Rick'. Either that or I will come up with another name for him. Perhaps 'Ahi'..." Ardeth's thoughts came to a violent and abrupt end when something caught him from behind and slammed him to the floor, knocking the breath out him and sending his senses reeling.
"Trap!" His mind screamed as he fought to drag air into his burning lungs.
Momentarily winded, he struggled feebly against his attackers. Somehow, Ardeth managed to pull free of the tuxedo coat, leaving his attackers with a fistful of material instead of his arms and made it to his feet. He threw punches at anyone he could reach but in his still dazed state he wasn't sure if his fists were connecting or not. A strong hand grabbed his hair from behind and pulled his head back. The Med-jai tried to shake off the grip but the man behind him was a giant, taller than himself and with the strength of an ox. Before Ardeth even had a chance to move a cloth covered his mouth and nose and a sickly sweet stench filled his nostrils. Ardeth tried not to breathe, tried to hold his breath but the cloth stayed firmly in place and the blackness at the edge of his vision began to grow.
Arnie Cummins watched the struggling man his employer called Ardeth Bey grew weaker and weaker until he finally hung limp between the two ruffians that held him. The larger one, Blick, left the cloth on a moment longer just to be sure. Then they simply let go and Bey fell to the floor.
"Are you sure he's out?" Cummins asked, knowing that, despite their immense strength and size, a six-year old could outsmart the thugs he'd brought along to do the heavy work.
The smaller of the pair, Ollie Wentworth, lifted up a limp arm and let it go. It dropped back to the floor with a dull thud. Not satisfied, the one called Blick sent a hard kick into the unconscious man's ribcage.
"E's out cowld," Blick said with a happy grin.
Ollie laughed and kicked Bey himself for good measure. "Ere now," he observed with some concern after a moment. "'e looks like e's barely breathin'. 'Ow much ovat stuff'd you give 'im?"
Blick scratched his head. "Dunno," he mused. "Arnie said 'e was a biggun so oi used an 'ole bottle."
"Blick!" Cummins cried, quietly. "You may have killed him! Don't you know that too much chloroform can be deadly?"
"Uh..." Blick thought about it for a moment. "No."
"Why me?" Cummins muttered to himself.
"Oi know! 'Cause the Boss said this 'ere Bey bloke was a real biggun an' real fiercelike an' 'e needed a couple a strong blokes ta deal wif 'im." Ollie was overjoyed at what he felt was the correct answer and he beamed.
Cummins slapped his hand to his forehead and cursed. "Just bring him along!" He ordered. "I want to be out of here, now."
None to carefully, Blick and Ollie grabbed Ardeth's arms and dragged him down the corridor. The only indication that anyone had been in the area at all was the white silk jacket that lay abandoned on the black tile floor.