Chapter 1: Thievery
Marrakesh, Morocco. Wednesday, January 7, 1976.
"Cut to the chase, Peter. How many and how deadly?" Neal crossed his arms in front of his chest, ignoring the shoppers crowding the stalls of the market in the historic medina of Marrakesh.
Peter placed his hands on his hips. "Just because it's called Scorpion Hill, don't assume the site's overrun with them."
"That's not what I read," Elizabeth countered. "Scorpions are common throughout the region, and I remember the hair-raising account of a certain archaeologist I know and love from a previous expedition. Don't tell me you invented those stories just to keep me from wishing I'd been able to go with you."
"Of course not." Despite his denial, the tips of Peter's ears reddened, leading Neal to suspect El's suspicions were perilously close to being accurate. "It's just that after facing hordes of rampaging ghasts and zoogs, scorpions no longer seem as threatening," Peter said in an apparent effort to salvage the situation.
"What about the legend of the giant scorpion inhabiting the Atlas Mountains?" Neal challenged. "Scorpion Hill is part of that mountain range. Isn't that where the scorpion's home is supposed to be?"
Peter groaned. "Mozzie told you about that, didn't he?"
"And me, as well," El added. "It sounds like a reasonable surmise."
Peter raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Fine. If you want to believe mythological creatures are real, I won't stop you. The Atlas Mountains were named after the Greek god who holds up the celestial heavens. It's no stretch at all to think that Atlas brought the constellation Scorpius down to Earth and transformed it into a giant arachnid whose nest is in Scorpion Hill."
Peter raised a brow, but if he expected Neal to laugh, he was out of luck. Neal would never be skeptical of anything again, not after he discovered the monsters written about by Abdul Alhazred in the Necronomicon were not mere nightmarish creations, but alien creatures from other worlds. In comparison, an immense scorpion lurking in the foothills didn't sound that outlandish.
Mozzie claimed that he hadn't accompanied them to Marrakesh so he could continue his work with Pagna Sastri and Milly, a Celaenian android residing within the armillary sphere. In a week Pagna was due to return to the Meropian home base, leaving Mozzie in charge of her lab. Ample justification to stay at home. The fact that he would also avoid any encounters with gigantic arachnids was purely coincidental.
Neal picked up the bottle of scorpion repellant which the vendor assured him would offer protection from all species. "This doesn't cost much. I'm getting it."
"I wonder if he has anything to repel zoogs," El asked. "That's what we really need."
If the reports Sara had obtained from her Interpol contact were accurate, zoogs had been spotted in the ancient Moroccan city. The presence of animals from the planet Tirelia would indicate an active wormhole and, along with it, the likelihood of an active branch of the Starry Wisdom cult.
A couple of years ago, Peter had worked on a dig near Scorpion Hill which was in the foothills south of Marrakesh. He'd uncovered Neolithic drawings of starfish reminiscent of images they'd learned to associate with the Elnath, an ancient alien species who colonized Earth in its prehistory. Peter had wanted to return to the excavation site in any case, but Sara's report made the need more urgent. Funding and all travel arrangements had been provided by their Meropian adviser Gideon Talmadge.
If zoogs were present, were ghasts as well? Humans could spot zoogs but ghasts were invisible to anyone who didn't carry algolnium in their spinal fluid. As far as Neal knew, the only humans capable of seeing ghasts were the members of his group. He hoped they'd be able to discover the wormhole, seal it, and then explore the dig at their leisure. They'd only just arrived in Marrakesh. Absolutely no reason to be a pessimist.
"Sara wishes she could have joined us," Neal said. "The possibility of Godzilla-sized scorpions appears to only increase the allure for her."
"You should buy her something in Marrakesh to help ease her disappointment," El suggested. "Peter, you're our expert on Morocco. Anything come to mind?"
"Marrakesh is known for its glass jewelry," he suggested. "I bet you'd like some too."
She looked at her watch. "My appointment with the coroner isn't for a while. That should give us enough time to shop." The rumored zoog sightings had taken place close to the scene of a murder. Before they left Arkham, El was able to secure permission to review the findings. If the victim's blood contained a rare selenium compound, they'd likely been parasitized by a zoog.
An hour later with purchases made, El left in a taxi to the city morgue. "Are you ready to head back to the hotel?" Peter asked Neal.
"Not yet. I'd like to have more time in the market. It reminds me of the last one we visited."
"The Hlanith bazaars on Tirelia?" Peter smiled. "I wouldn't mind having some of those baroque pearls we were bartering, but I'm glad we don't have to worry about Azathoth's monks. The cult's bad enough."
Neal paused to scan the people around them. The possibility of being tracked by members of the Starry Wisdom cult was a constant in their lives, but even if ghasts were around, they wouldn't attempt anything in broad daylight.
"Markets are a great resource for the archaeologist," Peter added. "Even today it's possible to discover artifacts that are sold by locals unaware of their significance." He nodded toward a vendor who was selling pottery and rocks of various sorts. "Let's check out this stall."
The man had pottery figurines and fossils for sale. Morocco was rich in fossils, and a Moroccan trilobite would make a good present for Mozzie. Peter didn't need Neal's translation services or a Meropian language amulet since he knew enough Arabic to manage on his own. As Neal examined the fossil collection, Peter inquired about the pottery.
The man's weather-beaten face broadened into a grin, displaying his prominent broken teeth. "You are a collector? My son returned from Imlil with some interesting pieces. I haven't put prices on them yet but you are welcome to inspect them." He bent down to retrieve a tray of earthenware items from under the counter.
Peter picked up one piece to study it. The small vase had been embellished with a few straggling plant stalks, all made in the same red clay. He chuckled. "My daughter would like this for her dollhouse. How much?"
With that, the haggling began. Neal studied the small sculpture more closely. Any piece which caused Peter to invent a daughter was worth a second look. It was crudely shaped as if it had been made by a child. The red clay object appeared to have been dried under the hot Moroccan sun.
Bargaining concluded, the vendor wrapped it in sheets of newspaper and Peter placed it in his string shopping bag along with an ammonite fossil Neal had purchased for Mozzie.
When they'd walked far enough away that the vendor couldn't overhear him, Neal murmured, "Tell me more about your daughter."
"You didn't like my story? The sculpture does look like a child could have crafted it, but I'd stake my reputation that it's an ancient statue. If the vendor had suspected the truth, he would have charged a king's ransom." Peter shrugged. "And it might be worth it."
"What do you think it is?"
"Remember those cave drawings outside Lyon?"
Neal stopped in his tracks. "You believe it could be an Elnath?" He spoke in a whisper not for fear of being overheard but because of the sheer outrageousness. This was hardly a likely place to find a carving of Earth's earliest known alien visitors.
Peter nodded. "The barrel shape was what first attracted me to it. Those five projections at the top I bet are meant to represent the tentacles on top of their head. You can see traces of two parts that were broken off. They could have been wings. The vendor said it came from Imlil. That's a village to the south in the mountains near Scorpion Hill." His eyes glinted with excitement. "I can't wait to get this back to Arkham and have Cyrus date it. This alone makes our trip worth the expense, and we've yet to explore the cave."
Cyrus Dexter was the chemist on their team. They were fortunate to have the head of the university's chemistry department working with them. Between analyzing the composition of artifacts and working with El on alien compounds, his research was a vital component of their efforts.
The sun was now low in the sky, and Peter suggested heading back to their hotel to wait for El's return. If anything, the market became more crowded as business workers joined the throng.
"Watch out!"
Peter gave Neal a hard shove as a motorized bike veered straight at him. Losing his footing, Neal stumbled and fell. Angry shoppers cursed at the helmeted cyclist as they scrambled to get out of his path.
"Are you all right?" Peter asked as Neal scrambled to his feet.
"Yeah, thanks for the warning,'' he said, dusting off his pants.
"Wait, where's my bag?" Peter scanned the crowd frantically. "I'm sure I didn't drop it. Someone must have snatched it."
Neal grabbed Peter's arm. "That man in the gray hoodie, he's got it and he's speeding away!"
Neal tore off to catch him, Peter at his heels. Ignoring the disgruntled yells of vendors, Neal leaped over baskets of goods in a mad dash after his quarry.
The thief darted into a narrow lane in the medina. Running footsteps alerted Neal that Peter wasn't far behind, but he didn't dare break his stride for fear of losing sight of the thief.
It was small consolation that El had kept the glass bracelet Neal had bought for Sara. A statue of the Elnath had been ripped away from them before he'd had a chance to study it thoroughly.
When Neal rounded the corner into an alley, he was just in time to see the man enter an unmarked building. He stared at the door with frustration. What should he do now? Bang on it and demand the return of their property?
Peter caught up to him, panting from the chase. "Where'd he go?"
Neal nodded toward the door. "I could knock and, depending on who answered, take it from there."
"And find yourself in a den of cultists?" Peter shook his head firmly. "Not happening."
"He has your statue," Neal said bitterly. "We can't let him get away with it."
"I have no intention of giving up," he retorted, "but first we need to know who we're dealing with. Weren't you the guy who was worried about scorpions?"
"That was different," Neal protested.
"You're right. They aren't nearly as dangerous as the cult." Peter scanned the street. "If memory serves me right, this is a service alley to townhouses. I visited a professor in his riad near here."
The Moroccan version of a townhouse was built around a courtyard. Most had attached gardens. "Then this is a service entrance?"
Peter nodded. "We need to find out who lives there before planning our next move."
As they approached the door in the alley, Neal's fingers began to tingle as if they'd gotten a mild electric shock. He paused to focus on the sensation.
"What's wrong?" Peter asked.
Neal sniffed the air. A faint trace of something indefinable. An image of the night sky filled with stars . . . The smell of ozone. He walked one pace forward. The door ahead began to shimmer softly.
"There's a wormhole inside," he whispered. "I can see the shimmer. It's happening just like Milly predicted."
Milly had told him that the shimmer he detected around wormholes was a manifestation of energy produced by excited atoms of algolnium. The Celaenians had discovered that deep within Earth's core resided pure molten algolnium. The energy it radiated was indiscernible to humans. Neal was able to see it because of his Celaenian DNA. He knew algolnium energy powered wormholes but Milly hadn't told him much else about it.
Algolnium which had formerly resided only in Neal's spinal fluid now permeated every cell of his body. With each day that passed, he became more alien even though to outward appearances nothing had changed. What that meant for the future was unknown. Neal tried not to dwell on it. For the moment, it was a godsend. Milly was confident that he'd be able to sense an active wormhole by focusing on the stream of algolnium energy it emitted. She said it was how he'd detected the cave in Abydos and now it was happening again.
Peter exhaled slowly. "You may have just found the cult's headquarters. That was no random theft."
"Cult members could have been following us ever since we arrived." Neal stood back to inspect the stucco wall. How'd they be able to get inside undetected would be a major challenge.
They noted the address on the door which was indicated by only a number. The front entrance was around the block on Rue Azbezt. The carved wood door was simply adorned with a brass number, but it appeared to be a luxurious dwelling. The peach-colored stucco was in sharp contrast to the dark wood of the door. Containers of palms lined the walkway leading to the entrance. Peter had made an appointment with a colleague in Marrakesh before they left Arkham. He was counting on her help in identifying the owner.
They'd prefer to avoid going to the police. Sara's Interpol contact had spoken of suspicious incidents in Morocco and warned that not everyone on the police force could be trusted. Morocco was undergoing political unrest and terrorism. Although on the surface, Marrakesh appeared a safe location to visit, their Meropian advisors also had warned them to steer clear of the government if at all possible.
Sunset was falling. Their appointment with Peter's archaeologist colleague wasn't till the following morning. Peter recommended returning to the hotel. El was likely already waiting for them in their suite. Neal was anxious to hear her report, but in a way it was moot. They'd already obtained confirmation that the cult was active in Marrakesh.
#
Their hotel, La Mamounia, was a short walk away. It had been chosen by Gideon. The Meropian had assimilated himself into society as a global financier headquartered in London, and he appeared to enjoy the trappings fitting for a man of his wealth. Their hotel was ranked as one of the most luxurious in the world. It was a universe apart from the modest accommodations Peter used to frequent.
The hotel was surrounded by gardens. Its ornate tilework, courtyards, and swimming pools made Peter feel like he was living in a palace. Gideon's assistant Fei Hong had reserved a two-bedroom suite for them. Suites were considered more appropriate both for privacy and security reasons.
El was sitting on the balcony of their suite when they arrived. Neal headed off to take a shower, leaving it to Peter to explain the theft.
"Is our every move being tracked?" El asked worriedly.
"We have to act as if it is. I shouldn't have let you go unaccompanied to the coroner's."
"I took a taxi straight back to the hotel."
"Which could have driven by a cultist," he reminded her. "You might have been kidnapped. From now on, nobody travels alone."
She nodded. "Agreed, and that goes for you too. On the plus side, Neal discovered where the wormhole is. The thief might have known he was being followed but he couldn't be aware of Neal's ability."
"But we don't know how we'll be able to get inside. For now, we may have to abandon any thought of closing the vortex. We can make a return trip later when we're better prepared."
She raised a brow. "How can we be better prepared? Call the Army to accompany us? We already decided federal authorities can't be brought in."
He didn't have a good answer for her. They'd agreed the government couldn't be informed about the presence of extraterrestrials on Earth. Their alien advisors Lavinia and Gideon had a low opinion of government agencies and were adamantly opposed to bringing in outside experts. Who could argue with their reasoning? If they somehow succeeded in convincing the authorities of the accuracy of their statements, Neal would immediately be placed in quarantine along with Lavinia and Gideon.
"Interpol may be able to help with the cult," he said. "If the members are rounded up, then perhaps Neal will have an opportunity to safely close the wormhole." The notion was most likely impractical, but what other options did they have?
Neal came out of his bedroom, his hair still a little damp from the shower, a reminder he needed to clean up as well. "At least we can be comforted that the hotel security is excellent," Peter added, glad Neal could hear his words of caution. "Even so, we shouldn't press our luck."
Neal frowned but he didn't argue. He realized they couldn't take down a cult stronghold. "El, what did you find out at the coroner's?"
"Blood was discovered under the victim's nails, presumably from his attacker. My analysis confirmed our suspicions. Whoever attacked him was likely being controlled by a zoog."
Peter's gloom increased. Additional evidence of cult activity, as if they needed any.
"Should we alert Diana?" Neal asked, not appearing distressed by the news. He must have already assumed the results would be positive. "Someone knew we'd be in Marrakesh. Cult members may have moved back to Arkham."
"Even if they had, it wouldn't have been easy to discover our travel plans," El noted. A knock on the front door caused her to pause. "That's probably room service. They said they'd bring up a bowl of dates and mint tea."
"I'll get it." Neal was already heading for the door, but Peter was half a mind to insist he answer the knock instead. He knew he was being irrational. Neal was no longer the eight-year-old kid he'd traveled back in time to rescue. If he attempted to impose restrictions, Neal would complain vociferously. He'd already survived multiple attacks. Neal would likely argue Peter and El were the ones who needed protection.
"Henry!" Neal broke into a wide smile at the man standing at the entrance and pulled him inside. "Elizabeth, Peter, meet Henry Chaseman. He's changed just a little since the last time Peter saw him."
"I should hope so," Henry said with a grin, "given that was fourteen years ago." He strode over to El to shake her hand. "A pleasure."
Maybe for him, and clearly for El who appeared charmed, but for Peter, not so much. Sure he'd hoped to meet Henry, but the guy was a big unknown, and the timing was beyond suspicious. First the cult, now Henry. Was he in league with the enemy? Was that why the cult knew they were in Marrakesh? Maybe Henry had been recruited and there was a zoog nesting in his cranium.
Henry had revealed virtually nothing about what he did for a living. Peter had asked Diana to check if he had a record, and the results were not comforting. A suspected mercenary, hustler, and thief. No known employer. This was a far cry from the boy who'd befriended Neal as a child.
Henry was a couple of inches shorter than Neal but built much more powerfully. His brown hair was cropped short. He still had a few freckles sprinkled over his nose. He appeared relaxed and friendly. Peter tried to be as well, but until he knew more, he wasn't about to welcome him into the band.
"I finished a job not far from here and decided to take Neal up on his offer," Henry explained.
And what kind of job was that? Peter bit back the words, hoping Neal would ask instead.
"We arrived this morning," Neal said. "How did you know which hotel we were in?"
Henry smiled and shrugged. "You weren't hard to find. I was looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with Peter. If I'd known how charming your wife is, I would have stopped by earlier." He paused. "I'm glad I didn't need to make an appointment. Judging by your popularity, I thought there might be a line."
Peter grew even more uneasy. How had Henry found out about the chase?
"When I was in the lobby, I heard a woman ask about you," Henry continued. "She not only inquired about Neal but Peter as well. She attempted to get your room numbers but the hotel wouldn't give them out."
"Did you catch her name?" Neal asked. To Peter's chagrin, he didn't follow up with the obvious question. If the hotel hadn't given out the information to the woman, how had Henry found out?
"She introduced herself as Raquel Dubois. Claimed to be a guest, and since she was wearing a caftan over a swimsuit, she probably was." Henry shrugged carelessly. "Or she was putting up a good act. Last I saw her, she was lounging by a swimming pool. She a friend of yours?"
"We met her in France," Neal said. "She's with Interpol. There were no messages from her for us. I wonder why she didn't call our suite."
Henry flicked Peter an appraising look. "You have interesting lives, jet-setting across the globe, staying in palaces, hobnobbing with Interpol. The intergalactic security business must be prospering."
If Henry intended for him to divulge anything, he'd have to first explain his own business. "We're here to check out an archaeological site," Peter said calmly. "This is Elizabeth and Neal's first time in Marrakesh. The hotel is a splurge indulgence."
"Um-hm." Henry didn't challenge him but his skepticism was on full display.
#
Neal decided to call a timeout to the standoff. He was much more interested in discovering what Raquel was up to than worrying about Henry being a cult member. Meanwhile, Peter was giving Henry the once-over as if he thought a ghast had taken up residence inside him. Neal had a stack of questions too, but he was positive Henry was no threat.
"Peter, you wanted to take a shower," Neal said. "I'll go downstairs and speak with Raquel." When Peter started to object, he added, "I won't let on I heard anything but I'm curious to see how she reacts when she sees me. She's on the Interpol cult task force. She may have heard about cult activity in Marrakesh."
"But that doesn't explain how she found out about us being in town," El said, her brow creased with concern. "Diana arranged for me to meet with the coroner, but she didn't say anything to me about contacting Interpol."
"Possibly she's the one responsible for us being followed," Neal said and turned to Henry. "There are several swimming pools in the hotel. Which one did you see her at?"
"I'll go along and show you." Neal was relieved Henry picked up on the unspoken suggestion.
Peter looked like he wanted to object but El forestalled him. "Henry, I hope you'll join us for dinner. We've barely had a chance to chat."
"I'd love to, thanks." Henry showed no sign of being discomfited by Peter's unease. Neal suspected the cause wasn't Henry so much as it was the accumulating pressure of the threats surrounding them. They were taking more of a toll on Peter than Neal had realized. The chase was just the latest example.
"Don't blame Peter for being suspicious," Henry said once they were in the hallway. "He doesn't know anything about me. Hell, I wouldn't trust me."
"We're not completely ignorant about you," Neal said, deciding to be upfront about it. Better that Henry should hear it from him. Besides, he was curious to see how Henry would respond. "When we heard you were living overseas and using an alias, Peter asked a friend on the police force to look you up. She reported that you're suspected of working with mercenaries."
Henry half-lifted one shoulder. Could that be called a confirmation? "Anything else?" he added calmly as they waited for the elevator.
"A few items. They believe you're a thief, a gambler, and a hustler but admitted you've never been arrested."
"So those are all hypotheticals. What was your reaction?"
Neal chuckled. "None of it surprised me. You were already an expert pickpocket as a kid."
"You knew?" he said, acting dismayed. Was Henry trying to con him?
"Of course, I knew. I wasn't as innocent as you apparently thought. I was also impressed by your skill." Neal paused when the elevator arrived and was pleased that the car was empty. They could talk without fear of being overheard. "I'll never forget how you stole gingerbread for me. I don't how I would have survived if you hadn't befriended me."
"That was a long time ago, kiddo."
"Not to me." Neal didn't elaborate that he'd experienced the events less than a month ago. Henry wasn't ready for that, but he already knew that Peter had engaged in some sort of time travel. "And not to Peter. He tends to forget I'm no longer a kid. That's why he's so . . ."
"Looming?"
Neal grinned. "His protective instinct is currently in overdrive. I hope it will subside."
Henry's expression grew thoughtful. "I'd like to know what happened after I was dropped off at the home."
"And I'd like to tell you, but there are some steps you'd need to go through first. What we've involved in is deadly serious, and there are several excellent reasons why we don't discuss it with anyone outside the group."
Henry studied him for a moment. "Those invisible bad guys are still around?"
Neal hesitated then nodded. He'd never informed Henry about the true nature of ghasts but he could lift the curtain a little. "They're not a danger to me, but they are to others. And we've learned our foes have other weapons at their disposal which can be just as deadly."
"You mean Dr. Octopus?"
"Mozzie told me what he'd led you to believe. Dr. Octopus is still out there."
"I won't bug you for more information. I hope you appreciate I'm not even asking about the cult you're worried about or why you think you're being followed. But it's best if we're not seen together. Raquel is sitting by the inside pool. It's along the passageway leading to the gardens. I'll keep an eye on you two, but don't worry, she won't know it."
She won't? Mozzie had speculated to Peter that Henry could be part of a Mission Impossible team. Neal hadn't taken the remark seriously, but maybe he should have.
Raquel was still at the pool. She was relaxed in a lounger in a skimpy black bikini. There were few other people in the vaulted space. The pool had an intricate tile floor design that was surrounded on all four sides by carved stucco archways. Lanterns of Moroccan glass were suspended from the arches, making the lounges along the deck appear to be in private niches.
Neal strode to the pool as if to admire it, not paying any attention to Raquel. It only took a minute for her to call out to him in French, "Neal, is that you?"
He spun around. "Raquel? I didn't expect to see you here." He sat down on a lounger next to her. "Are you on vacation?"
"With a little business mixed in. A report arrived at the office of possible cult activity and I offered to go." She glanced around and smiled mischievously. "I upgraded my accommodations. I didn't dream I'd see you here." She cocked her head. "What brings you to Marrakesh?"
Notes: Thanks for reading!
Introduction to Arkham Files for new readers: This series is part of the Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen. FBI Agent Diana Berrigan began writing Arkham Files as part of a strategy to capture a cybercriminal nicknamed Azathoth. Most of her characters are drawn from the world of White Collar and retain their same given names. The series is a meta work. Events and characters in Arkham Files are sometimes referenced in the Caffrey Conversation stories and are a factor in plot development. Further information is on the Arkham Files page of the blog I co-write with Penna: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation.
Story Visuals and Music: The Scorpion Hill board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website