Chapter 3: Defense Mechanisms
Marrakesh, Morocco. Thursday, January 8, 1976.
By midafternoon, Neal and Henry were on the roof of Kattan's riad. Disguised as the newest employees of Marrakesh's power company, they both wore loose coverall uniforms and had cloth tool bags strapped to their waists. Neal had already replaced his shoes with soft climbing slippers supplied by Henry.
Neal kept watch as Henry tied a polyester cable to a drainage pipe. They'd use the cable to descend through the courtyard into the building. The riad had three floors. Their destination was a terrace on the top floor.
"I'd feel better if you'd let me sneak in alone," Henry said, yanking the knot tight. "You've given me a detailed description of the statue. There's no need for you to put yourself in jeopardy. Besides, you'll be doing me a service. If anyone should come along, you can invent a plausible explanation for the cable." He paused and gave him a sharp look. "Unless, that is, there's something else you're looking for."
Neal took a breath. "You guessed." His vague comments to Peter about the necessity of him going along must have waved numerous red flags at Henry.
He shrugged. "As protective as Peter is, it doesn't make sense for him to allow you to accompany me unless there's some very compelling reason."
"And there is, but I can't tell you anything about it."
Henry frowned. "You're not making it easy, you know."
"It's frustrating for me too." All Henry needed to do was give him a nudge and he'd likely reveal more than he should, but Henry held off. Did he ease up because he knew what a difficult situation Neal was in? Still, for his own sake, Henry needed to be at least as well informed as Diana was back in Arkham. "You're armed, I assume?" Neal asked.
"Yeah, a knife and a gun equipped with a silencer."
"Good. You may need them."
"You expect Kattan's henchmen to ambush us?"
"Not so much them as an animal. It looks like a large rat and is about the size of a large squirrel. You can recognize it by the tentacles on its snout."
Henry's eyes widened. "Tentacles, huh? Is it vicious?"
"Potentially deadly. It's called a zoog. Don't let it bite you."
Henry nodded slowly. "Got it. Avoid all tentacle-snouted rats."
Neal was glad Henry didn't grill him on where they came from. That would have to wait till he'd obtained clearance.
"The rope's ready," Henry said. "Let me go down first. Once I'm on the balcony, I'll give you a signal when it's safe."
With that, Henry dropped off the edge of the roof and started his descent. Neal held the cable to keep it steady, but it really wasn't necessary.
He'd assured Henry he'd have no difficulty with the climb. Conceivably, Henry got the incorrect impression that Neal was an expert climber. Still, there were knots at regular intervals to use as grips. For someone who'd ridden on shantaks and climbed to a crow's nest on a galleon, how difficult could it be? Neal winced as he imagined how Peter would answer. He promised himself that if he could just avoid disgracing himself today, he'd take up rock climbing as soon as he got back to Arkham.
Henry had tied the cable to a corner of the building so it would be less noticeable. The polyester cord was painted a soft peach that closely matched the color of the stucco. The corner he'd picked was in the shadows. Henry was worried about being spotted from the courtyard but Neal was more anxious about what they'd find inside.
With the help of his amulet, he'd been able to close wormholes in Arkham and Providence. Would Marrakesh soon be added to his list?
He watched as Henry swung onto the balcony of the third floor. After tying the end of the cable to the railing, he gave Neal a thumbs up.
Neal had already slipped on the climbing gloves provided by Henry. He slithered down with what he liked to think was the agility of a winged serpent. And maybe it was. Henry's glint of appreciation acted as a welcome confidence boost.
The riad was equipped with air-conditioning but on a mild day in January, the doors and windows were open. They'd landed in front of a bedroom that was fortunately unoccupied. Together they sneaked along the corridor bordering the courtyard.
The shimmer, along with the distinctive scent of ozone mixed with wind-swept ice, was even stronger now that Neal was inside the house.
Henry gripped his upper arm. "Let me go first," he mouthed.
Neal shook his head. "You don't know where to go."
"And you do? Are you psychic?"
"Later," Neal mouthed and stepped in front of him.
The shimmer blazed a path down the staircase and onto the second floor. A faint murmur of voices could be heard coming from the ground level. Suddenly, Henry grabbed him and pulled him into an alcove behind a large potted palm. They hid in the shadows as a woman carrying linens walked past them.
Neal counted two minutes before Henry would let him resume the search. Their goal was only one door down the hallway, but it was locked. That was good news as it meant the room was likely unoccupied.
Henry whipped out a small case from the pocket of his coveralls and selected a lock pick. Flashing a smile at Neal, he had it open an instant later. Neal's cheeks grew hot when he remembered his own fumbling attempts with lock picks. Yet another skill he needed to practice.
They slipped inside the dark room. With his enhanced night vision, the dimness presented no problem for him but Henry wouldn't be able to see much. "I'll switch on a light," Neal whispered.
"Don't!" Henry ordered, pulling out a flashlight. "The door was locked. Lights could be connected to an alarm sensor."
He wouldn't have thought of that. Henry had already proved his value many times over. Determined to do his bit, Neal reached for his flashlight. "I'll sweep the area for zoogs."
The room appeared to be Kattan's office. It was sparsely furnished with a desk and a few side chairs. The jewel tones in the Persian rug tempered the austerity of the appointments. No paintings on the walls behind which a safe could be concealed, but a closet door was more promising, mainly because of the strong algolnium aura. The lock on it was more elaborate than the door to the hallway, but it only took Henry a couple of extra seconds to pick.
When Henry opened the door he found a landing rather than the expected closet. Neal stepped inside. They were at the top of a stone staircase. The steps shimmered as if they were a mountain stream, beckoning them downward. Henry couldn't see the iridescence, but a wall safe was in plain sight. While he tackled the lock, Neal checked out the black robe dangling from a wall hook. It was a priest's cassock such as Keller wore in Arkham with a deep vermilion band. A yellow hood was attached to it. The design was a copy of the garment worn by Azathoth's lieutenant Nyarlathotep who dwelled in the monastery of ice on the frozen plateau of Leng. Neal grew cold as he remembered his ordeal on Leng. Did that sparkling stream lead straight to the monastery? He had no business taking Henry along, but trying to convince him to remain upstairs would be impossible.
"Hold your light closer," Henry requested. Luckily he hadn't noticed Neal's unease. "I could probably crack it by touch alone but I like to see what I'm doing. I wish I had your ability to see in the dark. Is that another one of those secrets you're not allowed to discuss?"
"'Fraid so."
"Right." Henry put his ear close to the dial. Neal could hear the soft clicks as the tumblers fell into place. He retrieved a lightweight nylon backpack from his tool bag, hoping it would soon contain the artifact.
When the door to the safe swung open, Henry used his flashlight to scan the contents. "Is this your statue?" He pulled out the small earthenware figure.
Neal exhaled in relief. "Yes it is, and it appears undamaged." He wrapped the precious sculpture in a piece of padded museum wrap he'd obtained from Peter. "What else is inside?"
"Stock certificates . . . cash . . . some gold jewelry . . ." He pulled out a book. "You're the egghead. Is this valuable?"
Neal stared at it in disbelief. The Book of Azathoth. He'd seen it only once, and that was at a meeting place for the cult in Arkham.
"I gather by your stunned look it is," Henry said. "Stick it in the bag. You can tell me about it later, along with all those other secrets you're keeping."
Neal nodded, frustrated at the constraints. Henry had to be chafing even more. He consoled himself that they were on the clock. This wasn't the time to recount the history of extraterrestrials on Earth.
Henry closed the safe. "I assume you want to investigate those stairs."
"I'd rather you stay here, but if you insist on accompanying me, stay a couple of paces back and do exactly what I say."
Henry cocked a brow. "Got it. Watch out for invisible bad guys and tentacle-snouted rodents."
"And perhaps worse." If this was a permanent wormhole, all bets were off. The Arkham portal had opened directly into the monastery of Leng.
The stone staircase consisted of three flights, ending below the ground floor of the riad. The construction on the lowest flight was markedly different from that of the upper levels. Neal wished Peter was present. To him, the technique appeared identical to the staircase they'd found leading from the altar in the Osireion in ancient Egypt. Did that mean it was also thousands of years old?
The stairwell was eerily quiet. Henry relied on his flashlight to see where he was going. The glittering shimmer provided sufficient illumination for Neal. When they arrived at the bottom they were in a small enclosed space of perhaps eight feet square. The wormhole filled one wall in front of them.
"God, what is that?" Henry asked, staring awe-struck at the gaping maw of dark turbulent space.
"A wormhole into another universe." The vortex wasn't what he was focused on but the disk affixed to the wall next to it. The bronze plate was a failsafe device fabricated by Celaenians to reseal the wormhole. It was identical to the ones he'd found in Arkham and Providence. He reached inside his shirt for his amulet. Once he fit it into the center depression on the disk, the wormhole would close, and all that would be left was a blank wall.
"Watch out!"
Neal spun around to see Henry's knife slice through the air and skewer a zoog a few feet away.
"It darted out of the wormhole when you approached the disk," Henry said, walking up to it and poking it with his foot. "It's dead now. You want to take it, too, I suppose?"
Neal took a breath. "Yeah, thanks. It probably won't stay visible for long, but we need to get it back to El."
"I'll put it in a bag. You do your alien mojo and then let's get the hell out of here."
#
It was late afternoon by the time the taxi dropped El and Peter off at the hotel. They'd prolonged the meeting with Kattan for as long as they dared. At no time did he seem aware of intruders inside his house. His graciousness and hospitality made it difficult to believe he could be associated with the cult. Could they have made a mistake?
El was on high alert the entire time. Thoughts of Neal and Henry sneaking around the riad drove her to wax enthusiastic over whatever Kattan said. He was bound to think she was a frivolous airhead of an American.
She admired Peter's smooth delivery. Making presentations about upcoming expeditions was a routine occurrence for him. He went into excruciating detail about the nature of the fictitious trip and what they hoped to accomplish.
Although, perhaps it wasn't fictitious. Would Scorpion Hill warrant a return trip? Peter's gift of persuasion had Kattan convinced of its significance. He agreed on the spot to facilitate the necessary arrangements. What would he have been like if he knew his premises, like some ancient tomb, were being plundered? At least El hoped they were. They didn't have any confirmation that Neal and Henry had succeeded in penetrating the riad.
When she and Peter arrived back at the hotel, she took it as a positive signal that there were no police cars parked outside the entrance.
"Don't break out the champagne just yet," Peter warned. "Neal and Henry might not have managed to break in."
"I have complete faith in their larcenous ability," El retorted.
Peter snorted. "You probably wish you could have been with them instead of me."
"How'd you guess?" El checked herself when she saw Raquel approach. "Incoming hostile," she murmured in Peter's ear.
He turned around. "Raquel, this is a pleasant surprise," he said smoothly with a warm smile. "I thought you'd be at work."
"I'm done for the day," Raquel said with a syrupy French accent that El used to love and now found revolting. "This weekend I'll head back to Paris."
"Have you found any evidence of the cult?" El asked, hoping the question sounded innocent. She noted that Raquel wasn't wearing the perfume from the previous evening. Was that because she didn't expect to see Neal?
"Nothing to substantiate the rumors. The police will notify me if they hear of any activity." Raquel smiled at them. "There's no need for you to be concerned. Or me either, for that matter. Before I leave, I'm treating myself to a vacation day so I can enjoy the sights of Marrakesh. Could I entice you into joining me for a tour of the museums and art galleries tomorrow?"
"I'd love to!" El exclaimed before Peter had a chance to jump in. "Peter and Neal have already agreed to assist a colleague but I have no specific plans for the day."
Raquel hesitated only a moment before expressing her delight. The disappointment she must have felt was reflected only in a slight tightness to her expression.
El knew Peter was dismayed, but he hid it till they were alone in the elevator going up to their floor.
"Why did you agree?" he demanded.
"We're already concerned about the cult following you. By keeping Raquel occupied, I could be keeping one of their biggest players out of commission."
"But this is a woman who tried to poison Neal with who-knows-what. Now you'll expose yourself to the same risk."
"I have no intention of drinking or eating anything Raquel could have tampered with," El said calmly. "You don't need me at Scorpion Hill. I'll be much more useful by preventing her from following you."
Peter wasn't happy about it but he couldn't dispute her reasoning. Marrakesh had a number of museums she'd like to explore, but she didn't intend to spend the entire day with Raquel. A couple of hours together would prevent her from tracking the men. El could then return to the hotel to enjoy the spa. The events of the past couple of days had been more draining than she'd anticipated. She hoped they'd be able to fly home the following day.
#
After closing the wormhole, Neal and Henry escaped back to the roof with their loot. Neal was on a high roughly equivalent to when he'd climbed on the back of a shantak to flee Azathoth's fortress. Henry was ribbing him about experiencing rookie euphoria. Neal longed to be able to tell him about his previous thefts. The crystal in ancient Egypt surely counted as one. Mozzie had been prescient when he said their group was destined to be a band of thieves.
Up to now, the only zoog specimen they'd been able to examine was the one killed by Mozzie's cat on the roof of the science building. The body vanished within a few minutes of being discovered. The Moroccan specimen lasted long enough for El to extract tissue and blood samples before it too lost its integrity. So far the samples hadn't suffered the same fate, but the need to return to the lab facilities in Arkham was now even more essential. At El's prompting, Peter went ahead and made their flight reservations.
The Book of Azathoth, samples, and sculpture were securely stowed in the hotel safe, but they'd all breathe easier when they were on the return flight from Marrakesh. And they wouldn't be flying alone. Henry had assured him in so many words he'd come along, and Neal planned to hold him to it.
They'd made their getaway from the palace ruins exactly as planned. Once they were a safe distance from the city, they removed their outer Moroccan garments. Now they were bouncing along a bumpy road in the Jeep.
Peter pointed with one hand through the windshield. "You see that waterfall ahead? The cave I excavated is near it. Our current destination is on the far slope. When we leave the Jeep, we'll have about an hour's hike to reach it."
"So, aside from the hordes of scorpions Neal told me to be prepared for, are there any other threats I should know about?" Henry asked nonchalantly.
"No, that about covers it," Peter replied, looking equally relaxed. "Oh, keep an eye out for snakes. Puff adders and cobras are the most dangerous. I haven't spotted any human foes, have you?"
"Nope. The ruse we used must have kept any cultists from following us."
The only threat Neal was currently worried about was a bruised tailbone. The shocks on the Jeep had evidently died years ago.
#
Without Laban Shrewsbury's directions, Peter wouldn't have discovered the cave. Shrewsbury was famous in the archaeological world for his ability to discover previously unrecorded sites. Peter suspected the cave would be yet another example of his skill.
His two novice archaeologists followed him up the slope. Henry insisted on bringing up the rear so he could watch for anyone tracking them. Peter didn't try to dissuade him but at this point, any foes wouldn't likely be human. They hadn't spotted another vehicle for the past fifteen miles.
The climb in winter wasn't arduous, but in summer the site would be a furnace. Only small pockets of sandy soil clung to the rocks. Vegetation was reduced to a few scattered thorny shrubs.
Neal doused himself with scorpion repellent when they left the Jeep. Henry declined his offer to share as did Peter. There were only a few scorpions about, and they probably laughed at the repellent. No giant winged monsters blocked their path. Mozzie would have had no cause for alarm. Compared to their other adventures, this was turning into a cakewalk.
The cave opening was a shallow niche in a tumble of rocks. They had to crawl through the entrance on their hands and knees. Once they were inside, the cave revealed itself to be spacious. It was roughly twenty feet square and would have made a decent shelter for early humans. Perhaps back then the entrance had been easier to access.
As they swept the walls with their flashlights, the significance of the find quickly became apparent. Along with drawings of starfish, prehistoric deer, and scorpions, the unmistakable shapes of the Elnath covered the walls. Charcoal and red ochre were the predominant paints. The outlines had been incised into the walls first, providing a record even in areas where the paint had worn away.
Exhilaration thrumming through his body, Peter hoped the flash equipment he'd brought had sufficient wattage to record what was quite likely the finest example of Neolithic cave art in Africa.
"Peter, look at this!"
He spun around to see Neal pointing at a stone slab. Henry had already darted over.
"What are those?" Henry asked, peering at the marks with a bewildered look on his face. "Chicken tracks?"
Neal grinned. "Hardly. This is writing—Elnath writing."
Peter was stunned at the discovery. Scratch his earlier prediction. This could be the preeminent Neolithic cave site in the world if it proved early Moroccans were familiar with an alien script. Up to now the earliest known examples of writing were from Mesopotamia and dated to the fourth millennium B.C. According to Lavinia, the Elnath were known to be on Earth between 12,000 and 9,000 B.C. at which time the Ymar conquered their settlements. Since the paint pigments contained charcoal, he'd be able to determine just how old the writing was.
Henry's brow furrowed. "Elnath? Who are they? Some prehistoric tribe?" When Neal winced, he sighed. "Never mind. This is why I'm going to Arkham."
"Can you read the text?" Peter asked.
Neal nodded absently. "It appears to be a hymn of praise to their gods, asking for their blessings . . ." He studied the wall intently and pointed to a line of writing. "This is puzzling. It indicates they will guard the treasures of the gods with their lives. What treasures could they be referring to?"
Peter racked his brain for ideas. "You don't see any shimmer, do you?"
"No." Neal reached under his shirt and pulled out his amulet. The bronze-like surface emitted a soft glow.
Peter's immediate reaction was that ghasts must be nearby. Generally, that was the only time the amulet glowed. When they were in ancient Egypt, it had scorched the skin of a priestess allied with the Starry Wisdom cult. In the confined space of the cave, there was nowhere for a ghast to hide and they would have spotted anyone outside the entrance.
Neal blinked and pressed his hand to his forehead. Henry was beside him in a flash. "You okay?"
"Just a little dizzy. It's already gone." His lips tightened as he concentrated. "I can feel the energy. It's growing stronger."
"What energy?" Henry demanded.
This wasn't the time to discuss algolnium with him, and Neal didn't try. He was staring at a section of the wall, but Peter was more interested in keeping a bead on him. An aura was coalescing around him. Were Peter's eyes playing tricks on him or was Neal glowing? He seemed to be acquiring a faint viridian cast similar to the color of the amulet.
Peter nudged Henry. "Do you notice anything different about Neal?" he murmured.
"Like what?"
"An iridescence to his skin, like he's . . . radiating energy?"
Henry shot him a dismayed look. "He looks like that to you?"
"Yeah, and it's growing stronger."
"I don't notice anything different."
That likely meant whatever Peter was seeing was because of the algolnium in his body chemistry—not necessarily a comforting thought.
Neal began to sweep his hand over a blank area in the wall facing him. It was a section without cave art. Peter assumed it was because the surface was rougher than the other areas, but was there some other factor at play?
"There, can you see it?" Neal smiled, seemingly oblivious to the glow his skin had acquired. In front of him, the wall had disappeared. Peter stood at the threshold of what was a much larger cavern. The walls glistened with bioluminescent stalactites. They shed enough light that the cavern appeared to be lit. It reminded him of the cavern of H'nir on Merope. Although small in diameter, it was over thirty feet high. A large pond filling half the cave was bordered by lavender-colored ferns. Shelf mushrooms in hues of rose and coral lined the walls. Next to the pool was a clump of what appeared to be large open clam shells. In the center of one was a peridot-colored crystal the size of a golf ball.
"What are we supposed to be looking at?" Henry asked, frowning in frustration. "Is this some kind of prehistoric art? I gotta tell you, all I see is a jumble of rocks."
"Sorry, this is another one of those need-to-know situations," Neal said.
Henry groaned. "I should have known. Is it a wormhole?"
"I don't think so. It's another section of the cave. It's been restricted to . . ."
When Neal stumbled over the words, Henry supplied them for him. "You don't need to tell me. If I'm not a Guardian of the Universe I'm outta luck."
Peter tested the opening by tossing a pebble inside. It entered the cavity without any sparks, proving that algolnium wasn't necessary to enter.
"We won't be gone for long," Neal assured him, wincing in sympathy.
Henry shrugged. "Don't worry about me. I'll guard your flank. It's not like I have anything else to do."
#
Henry sighed as the two men vanished through the supposed opening. He could still hear them. Once more excluded from the action. This was uncomfortably like what had happened fourteen years ago—Neal, Peter, and Mozzie took off for an intergalactic adventure while he had the thrill of a new life in a shelter for unwanted kids.
Damn.
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate what Mozzie and Peter had done. That home was a helluva lot better than his former life. And from the way Neal described his childhood, he hadn't had a picnic either. Henry still didn't know what had caused Neal's amnesia. He'd asked a doctor friend who'd said he'd never heard of anyone recovering their memory after such a long time had elapsed.
Henry had alternated between believing that Neal and his odd friends were space aliens to being convinced he'd been tricked—but no matter what, he'd instinctively known he could trust them.
Was his curiosity enough to make him give up his current job? On the face of it, he'd have to give it a snowball's chance in Hell. But there was a tiny whisper saying that just maybe he was on the verge of something really big that would make everything else in his life seem insignificant.
Neal and Peter must have moved further into the cavity as their voices were now indistinct murmurs. Henry approached the wall. "Hey, guys, remember me? What did you find?"
"I wish I could tell you," Neal called out.
Henry's shoulders sagged. Doomed to ignorance once more. He thrust out his hands in frustration and was astonished to see them disappear inside the cavity. It was as if the wall didn't exist. He'd be able to enter after all!
Henry felt all around to judge the size of the opening and then stepped into . . . total blackness.
"Neal, can you see me?"
"Hey, you made it!"
That's when it went south. Straight in front of Henry were two fiery red eyes. That was the only warning he had before it lunged at him. He felt a giant claw scoop him up as a cloud of foul-smelling gas made him cough. Loud clicks reverberated in his skull like machine-gun fire . . .
#
Neal froze in shock when the giant scorpion came out of nowhere. The creature's pincers encircled Henry's chest and dragged him back toward the opening.
"Don't struggle, Henry!" Peter yelled, reaching for his gun.
"Wait," Neal shouted. "Those clicks, I can understand them." He raced forward.
"Leave him alone," Neal clicked frantically. "He's my friend."
The scorpion halted. "He is not like you. He is not permitted entrance."
The scorpion's eyes were luminous garnets in its dark head. The body was mottled dark mahogany and olive and appeared to be twice the size of Henry. Neal kept his clicks slow and reassuring, at least he hoped they were. "Please don't harm him. He's working with us."
"Your companion is marked as belonging to you but this creature is a trespasser."
"We didn't realize he wasn't allowed to enter. If you free him, I promise he won't enter again."
The scorpion bowed its head. "I live to serve." An instant later it vanished.
Neal raced to Henry's side. "Are you okay?" he asked, crouching beside him.
"I guess," Henry gasped, pressing his chest. "Nothing broken. What was that thing?"
"A giant scorpion."
Henry's eyes opened wide. "It was bigger than me. It must have been the Godzilla of scorpions."
Neal wasn't going to argue the point. "Apparently it was charged with guarding the entrance to the inner cave. It thought you were a threat."
"Are you sure there was only one? I heard two of them. The clicks were coming from different directions." He wrinkled his brow as he stared at Neal. "Did I hear right? You could understand what they were saying?"
Neal stared at him, at a loss for words. He hoped Henry hadn't been able to see that he was the one clicking at the scorpion.
"There will be plenty of time for explanations later," Peter said, shooting Neal a sympathetic look. "Let's get you out of here. The scorpion's gone for the moment but we don't want to risk a return visit."
"Sounds like a good plan to me," Henry mumbled. "Just point me to the exit door. And I wouldn't mind some of that scorpion repellent."
Neal helped him into the main section of the cave and then returned to collect samples. They'd already determined that the other clam shells were empty, but Peter wanted samples of the ferns, mushrooms, and the water in the pool.
This was one time Neal didn't have to worry about cult members accessing the cave. The scorpion would continue to protect the entrance from intruders. Peter must be wondering what the scorpion had said. Even if Peter had been wearing his language amulet, it probably wasn't equipped to translate scorpion clicks. What had the scorpion meant about Peter? When Neal encountered the winged serpent for the first time, he'd pleaded with it to read his thoughts and recognize his friends. Had the serpent somehow marked his colleagues?