Chapter Seventeen: Finding a Trail
"I can't believe we didn't think of this earlier," Jason Fisher said as he unlocked the door to his office. With Sawyer on his heels, the Water Master entered the darkened room, crossing over to the corner to light the fire. December had turned very cold as Christmas approached that year. "The registry is over there."
Sawyer fished out a set of files, laying them out on the nearest table as Fisher lit the lamps. "Nice place ya have here," he said.
Jason smiled. "I built this place up myself," he told his companion proudly. "I just hope we can figure out how to stop the cult before I am entirely ruined."
It may have just been a trick of the light, but for a moment, Jason could have sworn he saw the American's eyes take on an odd glint. He frowned. What had that been?
It was gone before the mage could even be sure he'd seen it. He shrugged and opened the first file.
"I have a list of the people I've seen going into the cult's meeting place," Sawyer said, handing it over to Jason. "So we need to look them up in your registry of workers and see if they have anythin' in common other than being taken in by a couple of ancient Egyptian gods."
The mage glanced over the list. There were about fifty names on it. "Is this everyone?"
"Only the people I managed to talk to," Sawyer said. "There's probably at least twice that many in all."
At least a hundred cultists. While it might not be a full-blown army yet, it was still a significant number of people that the League would have to see to. Jason wished he had managed to get more information about the Goa'uld out of Tecol Dorou before he'd been murdered a week and a half ago. He did not like going into a situation as blind as they were at the moment.
The tall mage resettled his glasses on his nose and began studying the names on the list. Fifty people… what on Earth could fifty people have in common? Only half of them even worked for him, he realized as he perused the names. That made the task slightly more manageable, but the loss of twenty-five sets of data would make the finding the true common denominator all the more difficult.
Sawyer leaned forward and got to work, seeming to crouch over his papers like a cat at a mouse hole. Jason smiled slightly. This League was certainly a unique group. Even though they had only been together for a few months, they worked together as a solid team, each with their particular strengths and contributions: Captain Nemo, stoic and dark, master of the advanced technology that he created and as fierce a fighter as Jason had ever seen; Mina Harker, beautiful, clever, and deadly, talented at gathering and distilling information like one of her chemical analyses; Rodney Skinner, cheeky, unseen, and outwardly cowardly with a most unexpected streak of courage; Henry Jekyll, bravely battling both his inner demon and his fears of being useless among the more extraordinary members of the team- but he had already proved his worth with the murder of Tecol Dorou. Jason hadn't gotten to know the Shadow Agent well, but the alien's knowledge had impressed him deeply, despite his attitude. And then there was Tom Sawyer himself- fiery and passionate, a natural leader who had managed to forge a group of disparate personalities into a unified whole like a knight leading his loyal troops. Remarkable. Most remarkable.
"Look at this!" Sawyer said after they'd been working in silence for several minutes. "I think I've got something!"
Jason looked up, startled out of his meditations. "What is it?" he asked.
Sawyer indicated several names on his copy of the list. "This lot have all recently been workin' on ships that came from Egypt," he said. "Within the last two months. And these," he pointed at another group, "All lived or worked along the Nile within the past year."
Jason studied the two lists, nodding. "You're right," he said. "I do a lot of business with Egyptian craftsmen- there's a tremendous market here in England for ancient Egyptian artifacts, but not everyone wants pieces that look like they've been buried in the sand for two thousand years, or there may be Sensitives who want to be in vogue but can't handle having actual grave goods in their homes. I deal with the counterfeiters that care too much about their work to dirty it up and make it look authentic. Everyone's happy- the craftsmen don't have to damage their pieces, moderately wealthy folk don't have to pay huge amounts of money for fashionable decorations, the Sensitives don't get haunted, and I have a nice loyal market.
Sawyer didn't seem interested in Jason's business dealings. "When did ya first start having trouble with Nebthet's cult?" he asked.
Jason thought it over. "I started noticing some odd things with my workers about a year ago. The British Museum contracted me to bring in some artifacts that had been discovered in an old temple not too far from the Valley of the Queens. Jewelry, canopic jars, a few mummies, the usual. I remember because there had been some trouble with the shipment- two of the canopic jars were broken during transport, and it was discovered that they were empty."
"Fakes?" Sawyer asked. There was an odd look in his eyes, one that Jason couldn't quite pin down.
"No," the mage said. "The curator said that there was some kind of residue left on the inside, but it was almost like they had never been filled with the preserved organs they were meant to hold. Shortly after I dealt with that mess, I noticed that some of my dock hands- and one or two of my clerks- were acting strangely. I started looking into things and eventually discovered references to a cult of Nebthet that had recently sprung up. At that point I went to White Circle Lodge and they told me to contact the League."
Jason slid his glasses off his nose and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Even thinking about the mess with the Museum's curator gave him a headache. It had taken weeks to sort everything out. As it was, Jason had been forced to fire the captain and crew of the ship that had transported the jars in order to appease the archaeologists. What a nightmare- Captain Scott had been one of his best sailors, and it certainly wasn't his fault that the jars had been packed improperly. At least the other Water Master hadn't taken it too personally.
"Do ya think there's any way that the Goa'uld could have been inside those broken jars?" Sawyer asked suddenly.
The older man frowned. "Inside them?" he repeated. That was ludicrous- canopic jars were ornamental containers designed to store a mummy's preserved internal organs- lungs, liver, intestines, and stomach-for the afterlife. And how would anything living be able to survive in a jar for five thousand years?
But the broken jars hadn't been ordinary, he reminded himself. Organs had never been placed inside them, as far as anyone could tell. The Earth mage who was the Museum's curator had told him as much. Could the Goa'uld have found a way to preserve a living creature in those jars?
I know the ancient Egyptian mages were supposed to be incredible, but what sort of magic could do that? Jason wondered.
"What makes you suggest that, Mr. Sawyer?" he asked.
"Just think about it," Sawyer said. "Ya said the jars were broken during shipping, right? What if the Goa'uld were being maintained in them, and woke up when they were broken? They could have found hosts among the sailors and come here-"
"To start the cult and gather supporters," Jason finished. It made sense- incredible sense, if one accepted the hypothesis that the Goa'uld had the ability to hold themselves in stasis for thousands of years. But it was better than anything else they had at the moment, even in spite of its flimsiness. "So if we track down where the jars came from…"
"We track down the Goa'uld," the American said. "I've been keeping an eye on the 'services' this cult's been holding, and the only one running things is Kheti. He's been tryin' to convince his followers to make some kind of pilgrimage to a temple in Egypt so they can 'worship at the altar of Nebthet' or something like that. I haven't seen anyone callin' themselves Nebthet, so it makes sense that she went back to Egypt."
"How do you figure that?" Jason asked curiously, impressed by his companion's knowledge of the aliens.
Sawyer shrugged offhandedly. "Dorou said they like it there," he said. "Can ya track down where the jars came from?"
"Of course," Jason replied instantly. He stood and crossed over to what appeared to be a fishbowl full of clear water.
Sawyer raised an eyebrow. "What are ya doin'?" he asked.
"Contacting a friend." Jason leaned over the fishbowl and murmured a few words. At his magical call, an Undine appeared in the water, peering up at him.
"I answer, Master of Water," she said.
"I need you to go to Dr. Jones at the Museum," Jason told the little Elemental. "Ask him where the canopic jars found last year were discovered. He'll know what I'm talking about- the broken ones. And have him give my regards to his nephew Henry too."
The Undine flicked her hair and nodded. "I hear and obey. I shall return shortly."
The mage smiled at Sawyer. "Dr. Jones is usually up at this hour," he said. "We shouldn't have too long to wait before my messenger comes back with an answer."
"Good," Sawyer said. He looked pleased with himself. At this point, any investigator would. They had a lead, a good solid one, and they had more information coming to them. This feeling of elation at the prospect of being able to crack down on a mystery must be what had attracted Sawyer to the Secret Service in the first place.
The mage paused in his train of thought, thinking of how he had mentally described Sawyer earlier. Fiery, passionate, a natural leader… like a knight leading his troops.
A Knight.
Perhaps the Knight.
The Knight… of Rods?