The Amulet

by William Meikle

  The priest turned away, but I stayed there for some time. I wasn't sure what was keeping me there, and I had no idea what I would say before I opened my mouth.

  "I never really got to know you as well as I would have wanted to, but I hope that wherever you are, you're happy. And I promise you-I'm going to stop those who did this to you."

  And suddenly I found myself crying. No tears, just great dry heaves that raked through my body. I wasn't sure whether I was crying for Jimmy, for John Harris, for Doug, or for myself, but when the sobs finally passed I felt a whole lot better.

  I had Doug's book in the pocket of the leather jacket. I took it out, half-expecting it to be smoking this close to a church. I removed the photo of Fiona Dunlop with my fingertips without opening the book. Resisting an almost overwhelming urge to keep it for myself, I let it drop into the grave. Remembering a funeral from my childhood, I searched my pockets for small change. Finding a five pence piece, I tossed it onto the coffin, wincing as it rattled heavily across the brass plate directly above where Jimmy's sightless eyes must have been.

  A flash of black and white sped from a tree on my right, swooped into the six-foot hole, and, as I looked on dumbfounded, the magpie hopped out, the coin firmly held in its beak. It turned one jet black eye on me and seemed to give me a long, slow wink; then, with a quick flurry, was once again airborne.

  I had a feeling that Jimmy had just sent me a sign. Perhaps the supernatural was not all a bad thing. I left the graveyard with a slightly lighter heart than I'd entered it. The sun was shining, and the leather jacket suddenly felt heavy. I took it off and swung it over my shoulder, feeling the weight of the grimoire hit me in the small of the back. I caught myself whistling as I left the grave behind.

  My newfound good cheer didn't last long-Newman and Hardy were waiting for me just outside the graveyard gates. I hadn't spotted them at the funeral, but they both wore black ties, and it looked like they had combed their hair. They were really pushing the boat out. I wondered if they had really known old Jimmy.

  "We thought we'd find you here," Newman said.

  "We wondered if you had anything new to tell us?" Hardy said.

  My heart sank. I thought they'd found Marshall's body. I knew that if they had, I was in trouble. I had been seen in the bar, and I had been seen leaving just after him, and I was sure I must have left fingerprints all over his room.

  "Come on guys," I said. "I've just buried a friend-can't it wait?"

  "Oh, a friend, was it?" Newman said.

  "And how many more 'friends' are you going to be burying?" Hardy said.

  I had a sudden mental image of myself at Doug's funeral, trying vainly to explain to his mother how her son had come to die. I resolved that I'd do everything in my power to make sure it didn't come to that.

  "And what do you mean by that?" I asked, trying to keep my anger at bay.

  Suddenly I realized that they couldn't have found Marshall-they were being much too polite. If they had discovered the burglar's body, I would have been in the cells faster than I could blink. I began to relax-not much, though. It always paid to be careful where Stan and Ollie were concerned.

  "Well?" said Hardy.

  "Well?" said Newman.

  "Well, what?" I asked, and Newman stepped towards me before being restrained by his partner.

  "Well, have you remembered anything else?" he said, slowly enunciating every word, the voice he would use when talking to a school child. "Or are you too busy playing at detective to do any real work?"

  "No. There's nothing else I can think of. Did you find out where that fancy leather outfit of Tommy's came from? I think that might give you a clue as to who killed him."

  "We thought maybe you lent it to him," Hardy said.

  "We thought maybe you were bum chums?" Newman said, and both the policemen laughed. I didn't join them-there was no humor there.

  "No. There's no mileage in following the outfit," Hardy said.

  "We've found out that he brought it himself, mail order," Newman said. "We found the receipt."

  So Tommy had never intended the outfit to be sold. That didn't surprise me. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but Tommy had been congenitally incapable of telling the truth, no matter how easy it would have been to do so. He saw it as a contest between himself and the rest of the world. I reckon the rest of the world won, in the end.

  I suddenly had an idea, a way to get some more help on our side.

  "Actually, I did hear something this morning. I was just going to follow it up."

  I hoped they were going to buy it. If they did, it might slow our adversaries down and give us more preparation time.

  "Remember that thing I was looking for?" I asked.

  Hardy snorted, but Newman looked interested, so I addressed the rest to him.

  "I've heard that Durban-you know, of Durban and Lamberts-I've heard that he's been putting out feelers, trying to find a buyer."

  It had the desired effect. I'd played on the right prejudices. What more could they want-two antique dealers dead, and now a third involved in the case. I could almost hear their synapses making connections. The wrong ones, of course, but if it got them off my back and onto Durban's, I wasn't going to complain.

  "I wouldn't bother following it up," Hardy said.

  "Just leave it to us," Newman said.

  "We'll check it out," Hardy said.

  "You'd better be careful," I said. "That was three that time."

  "What-"

  "-was-"

  "-three?" they said in turn. Then I got that smile again. I wondered how long they spent practicing together.

  They had already walked away when Hardy turned back.

  "By the way, Mr. Adams-how did you get that?" he said, pointing to my arm.

  At first I didn't realize what he was asking, then I looked down.

  My bandages had leaked. It must have happened when I helped to lower the coffin. There, in the crook of my elbow, was a still spreading stain of blood, an inch wide.

  I tried to look casual, but I'm not sure I succeeded.

  "I cut myself shaving," I said, showing him the plaster on my ear.

  He looked closely at me, suspicious. I realized why when I ran my hand over my chin-it was obvious I hadn't shaved recently.

  "Designer stubble," I said. "It's all the rage. I was just tidying it up a bit."

  "Designer stupidity, more like," Newman said.

  "Come on," Hardy said, as he turned away once more. "We can't stand around here all day."

  Newman still studied me. He came closer and waved a finger in my face.

  "You're up to no good, laddie. You know it, and I know it. So you had just better be careful. We'll be keeping an eye on you."

  "Just the one?" I asked, and cursed myself inwardly. I could see that I'd gone too far. He stepped closer to me, so close that I could smell his cheap after-shave.

  "That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble some day," he said. He clenched his fist and drove it, hard, into my midriff, forcing me to double up. I almost expected a follow up blow, but when I looked up he was just standing over me, a look of sadness on his face.

  "Now look what you made me do," he said. He waved his finger in my face again, but I forced down the urge to bite it.

  With one last wave of his finger, he stomped off after his partner, leaving me to start breathing again. I realized that someday soon I would have serious trouble from that policeman, but at the moment I had more than enough other worries.

  I had one last look back at the graveyard before I left. The men had started to fill in the grave, and some of the flowers were being blown away by the wind. The magpie was nowhere to be seen. I said a small personal prayer to Jimmy before leaving, hoping that wherever he was there were still Chandler books to read. If he was in the right place, he might even get to read a new one.

  I drove back to Dunlop's house as fast as possible without exceeding the speed limit, and arrived to find Dunlop strugg
ling out of the house with a suitcase. Whatever was in it was obviously heavy, but he refused my offer of help.

  "And about bloody time, too," was all he said. "Help Fiona with the other case, will you-we're getting short on time."

  I did as I was told.

  Fiona was in the hall. She had changed into a blouse and skirt, and I thought I glimpsed, as she bent over, the tops of stockings. Did this woman not realize the effect she was having on me?

  I helped her carry the case outside, and when I got back out I was just in time to see Dunlop loading the other suitcase into the boot of a large black Mercedes.

  I found that I was nominated driver. Dunlop was clearly too ill to try, and Fiona couldn't drive.

  "We'll take this car," Dunlop said. "Can you drive an automatic?"

  I couldn't, but I wasn't about to tell Dunlop that. I was almost salivating at the thought of being in control of all that sleek, black power. I decided I had better put in a token protest; I didn't want to seem too keen.

  "Wouldn't we be better off in something a little less conspicuous?" I asked, pointing over at Doug's car. "Someone might be watching out for your car."

  "I don't think it matters much," he replied. "I'm pretty sure they'll be expecting us to try something. We may as well travel in comfort."

  By the looks of him he'd need all the comfort he could get. I had doubts that he would survive the trip.

  Dunlop got in the back and Fiona got into the passenger seat, her skirt riding up to show an expanse of thigh. I had been right about the stockings, and it was all I could do to keep my hands on the wheel. I know-all very childish, very macho, but show me someone who wouldn't have been moved by those legs, and I'll show you a woman.

  I almost embarrassed myself just getting the car started, and managed to stall it twice before we even got to the road, but after a few minutes the car seemed to drive itself. It was silky smooth and purred like a big cat. On any other day I might have taken a great deal of pleasure from being behind the wheel.

  The early part of the journey passed uneventfully. Dunlop had told me little more than to head for Fort William and points north. Fortunately there was only one road, so it was difficult to get lost.

  "So tell me about Durban," I said.

  "There's not much to tell," Dunlop said. "His great grandfather's name was Johnson. Does that tell you all you need to know?"

  I did. I'd been right about the family feud.

  The car was a joy to drive and the rain had eased. By the time we reached Loch Lomond, the sun poked its way through the clouds and I had mastered the controls. The scenery was at its best, with just a fine mist covering the hilltops.

  We had been cruising along in silence for about half an hour before Dunlop spoke to me again.

  "You seem to be taking all this very calmly, Mr. Adams. We must seem very strange to you."

  I looked at him in the rear view mirror.

  "Aye, strange is a good word for it. But I've seen too many 'strange' things in the past few days-I think I'm suffering from overload."

  He started to laugh, then thought better of it as another coughing fit hit him.

  "One thing does worry me, though," I said. "I just can't imagine you as the man who controls the North Side."

  This time he did chuckle.

  "Oh yes-I have my father to thank for most of that. But I like to keep my hand in. We all have some price to pay for our power."

  Whatever that meant, it was too obscure for me, but I wasn't able to quiz him further. We got caught in a spot of heavy traffic and I had to keep my wits about me as the boy-racers played their games in front and behind me.

  Once the traffic had calmed down, Dunlop started talking to me again.

  "Tell me about the Arab you saw-what did he look like?"

  I didn't have to think too hard; the image was ingrained in my mind. I described him, as best as I could, and when I had finished Dunlop looked thoughtful.

  "Just as my great grandfather described him," he muttered.

  I jumped at that, and almost lost control of the wheel.

  "What do you mean-it can't be the same man. Can it? He'd have to be well over one hundred years old-maybe as much as fifty years over."

  "Oh, it's the same man, all right. And he's much older than that. I wouldn't like to guess how old, but Great-granddad reckoned it might be as long as three thousand years-maybe even older. It is rumored that he is the same age as the amulet itself, and that could go back tens of thousands of years."

  I think I snorted, but my mind was reeling. It was just too much to take in. I concentrated on the road while Dunlop continued.

  "Whoever, or whatever, the Arab is, his life has been bound with the amulet and the ritual. Great-granddad speculated that he was one of the original priest kings, bound to walk the earth until the stars were right for the ritual. From grandfather's research, I think I have a fairly good idea of his motives. A long time ago he was the keeper of the amulet, but he abused its power and it was taken from him and placed in the sepulchre, surrounded by rock and bound by many spells. He was exiled, forced to wander the desert for centuries-you'd be surprised how often he turns up in old legends-until Johnson came along."

  He paused and coughed up a lump of blood into his handkerchief. I only caught a quick glimpse as he put the handkerchief away, but it looked like a piece of raw meat.

  I was grateful for the pause; it gave me a chance to check the rear-view mirror. We were being followed. I'd spotted the same car three times over the last fifty miles. They hung well back, and never came too close, but it was the same car, all right. I didn't tell my passengers; I didn't want to alarm them. Anyway, they must be police. It was just Stan and Ollie's style-they probably put the tail on me right after I met them at the cemetery.

  I decided to ignore them. They might come in useful later on, but for the moment they weren't causing us any difficulty.

  Dunlop was still coughing, and it was several seconds before he was able to continue.

  "In Johnson the Arab found a man he could use, a man he could mould to his own ends. What with Johnson's ambition, and his dynamite, the old Arab got what he wanted-the amulet. If it hadn't been for Andrew, he might have achieved his purpose already."

  I didn't want to ask any more, but he was bent on telling me.

  "When the stars are right, and he has the amulet, then Great C'thulhu will be called from his dreaming sleep. That's what we are going to have to stop."

  "And this C'thulhu chap? He's a bad guy?"

  Fiona answered this time.

  "One of the worst-he is the very embodiment of chaos. If the ritual is successful, C'thulhu will be able to reclaim his old form and all of evolution until now would be reversed in an instant-it would mean the earth being returned to its primal form."

  "A bad idea, I think you'll agree, Mr. Adams," Dunlop said, and chortled again until a fresh bout of coughing forced him into quiet.

  I talked quietly to Fiona for a while, but didn't learn much new. She thought that we had a chance to disrupt the ritual and retrieve the amulet. A slim chance, but one we had to go for. I got the impression she didn't expect to survive the trip.

  "And where does Doug come into this?"

  I saw her glance quickly at her husband, and he shook his head.

  "We don't know," she said. "We hope that we will find your friend at Arkham House, but it may be too late."

  I resolved to put my mind in neutral and go with the flow. I would keep my head down and let Dunlop get on with the hocus-pocus. If a chance came to save Doug, I'd take it. And if Doug could not be saved, somebody else would pay.

  I'd paid already.

  Dunlop slept for most of the rest of the trip, and after a while Fiona was keeping her thoughts to herself. Every time I glanced over at her she had her eyes half closed and she muttered to herself, but I couldn't make out the words. I contented myself with enjoying the feel of the car, and admiring the sweeping scenery.

  Near Crianla
rich I decided it was time for a cigarette. I needed some rest anyway-my arm had started throbbing again, and the stiff pedals were giving me shooting pains in my calf muscle. Dunlop was still sleeping, so we left him in the car.

  Once I'd got my cigarette going I asked Fiona what she thought was waiting for us.

  "Hell, Mr. Adams. Pure, unadulterated hell. Just pray to whatever gods you have that we get there in time."

  "I don't believe," I said.

  I realized I didn't sound convinced. If I had answered her just three days ago there would have been no hesitation, but something in the things I'd seen had got through my cynicism. I found that I couldn't cope with the idea of so much evil without a balancing force, a force of good.

  She gave me the smile again, and I felt something melt inside me.

  "You don't sound as if you're very convinced about that," she said, echoing my own thoughts back to me.

  "I'm not, but I always fancied changing my mind on my death bed, preferably after my ninetieth birthday."

  Now she looked serious, two small lines appearing as furrows.

  "I just hope you don't have to do it sooner."

  She accepted my offer of a cigarette and we smoked in silence for several seconds.

  "So how did you get involved with Dunlop?" I asked, and she gave me more than a smile, she gave me the full works.

  "You mean, what's a nice girl like me doing in a place like this?" she said, and I had to join her laugh.

  "I met Arthur through the Craft," she said, and must have noticed my blank stare. "I'm a witch. Hadn't you guessed?"

  "Where's the broomstick?" was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I thought at first she was angry, but then she threw her head back and roared with laughter.

  "You really don't know anything about us, do you? It's not all libido-raisers and palm reading."

  I had to admit she was right-films had clouded all my views on the occult. I learned fast, though. I found out a bit more when I asked her what she had been muttering in the car.

  "Protection, a spell to keep us all safe. You won't have noticed, but we have been under psychic attack since we left the house. Only the combined efforts of Arthur and myself have kept them at bay. They know we are coming."