The Khamsin Curse

by Anna Lord

  “That’s not my case. Mine is purple. That belongs to Lorna Baxter. It’s full of scorpions.”

  Instinctively, he stepped back from the bed. “Scorpions?”

  “Xenia found them this morning while searching for burqas. There might be a scorpion or two on the loose in Lorna Baxter’s cabin.”

  Warning bells turned into alarm bells. “Sweet Jesus! What next!” He stared at the green leather case and then at Xenia. “How did this case get into the saloon?” he demanded to know.

  Xenia’s eyes were moist and about to get moister. She had suffered a terrible fright and felt guilty, though none of it was her fault. “I know not,” she whimpered. “I know not.”

  In an instant he regretted his harshness. There was nothing to be achieved by apportioning blame. “All right, this is what needs to happen next. Find Fedir. Tell him to meet me here. He can help me search Lorna Baxter’s cabin. In the meantime, the Countess goes to lunch. She tells everyone I’m suffering from heatstroke and I’m resting in my room. I requested not to be disturbed.”

  Xenia hurried away.

  Gideon watched the Countess pull on three pairs of gloves, one after the other, then hitch up her petticoat and skirt. “What are you doing?” he said, but even as he said it he knew. “Oh, no you don’t!” he hissed, blocking her path to the bed.

  “We have to check how many scorpions are left,” she argued. “Xenia said there were between six and ten scorpions in that case. What if they are now running loose in the saloon? We have to warn the others. The sooner we do it the better. You flip open the lid and then stand back. I’ll count the critters then slam it shut.”

  He marvelled at her perspicacity and coolness. Most women would have hyperventilated and then fainted. Or was it that men hoped women would faint and so most women lived up to that expectation? He heaved a breath to make sure he didn’t hyperventilate. “Go ahead,” he said, releasing the clasp and flipping the lid.

  The case was empty.

  He uttered an expletive for both of them. “Great! Just what we need! Those scorpions could be anywhere. Let’s hope they’re not Deathstalkers! Whoever released them could have released them into the bedrooms as well as the saloon.” They both looked at the floor and felt a creeping shudder. “We’ll have to search the entire ship. You interrogate Lorna Baxter as to why she kept scorpions in her case. I’ll alert Azrafel and organise…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence because Fedir burst in. Urgency propelled him swiftly forward. “Prisoners dead,” he blurted.

  Gideon felt his head spin. “Say that again.”

  “Prisoners dead,” Fedir repeated. “Someone put scorpions in room with prisoners. Both men dead.”

  Gideon rushed from the room. He didn’t know who to throttle first – Hayter or Azrafel. Interrogating the two saboteurs once they returned to Cairo had been the plan. He wanted the name of the man who put them up to it. But, of course, whoever killed those two men wanted to make sure they didn’t give up the name. Sharif was the most likely suspect but without proof his hands were tied. The foreman was highly respected by the workforce. If the descendent of Ibn-the-Mad was arrested without proof the workmen would down tools and the dam project would come to a grinding halt.

  Only this afternoon, he felt as if they were finally making progress. He had found the culprits who set the explosives. The three engineers had begged him to sort out the matter of the dead crocodiles and the double murder. The workmen are starting to believe the project is cursed, they said. You have no idea what superstition can do to a project of this magnitude, they said. If the workmen desert in droves it could be a disaster, they said. He had assured them not to worry.

  Who held the key to the luggage room? Hayter or Azrafel? That’s what he needed to find out first.

  Lunch went ahead as normal on the aft deck under the striped canopy though it was a quiet affair. Dr Watson had not yet returned and Gideon Longshanks was absent.

  “Mr Longshanks mentioned something about suffering from heatstroke,” essayed the Countess airily. “When I bumped into him on my way to lunch he requested to be allowed to rest undisturbed.” They would all discover the prisoners were dead soon enough, but the last thing Gideon needed was Colonel ‘dithering’ Hayter getting in his way.

  Dr Watson returned just as lunch was drawing to a close. There was enough food left to satisfy his abstemious needs. He was wearing his stolid face. It told her there had been no surprises with the post mortems. If there had been anything unusual he would not have returned to the Sekhmet until almost dinner time.

  Herr Graf burped and mumbled something about having a lie down in his room. Colonel Hayter swabbed his brow with his napkin and mumbled something about a gin and tonic in the saloon. The four ladies retired to their cabins.

  When our two sleuths were sure they would not be overheard they talked quickly for there was much news to share. “You go first,” she said.

  “The post mortem revealed that both men died from drowning, asphyxiated by urine.”

  “What did Dr Bell make of that?” she asked, curiosity high, watching him mop up the last of the tahini dip with a chunk of flatbread.

  “He is a seasoned professional. A fact is a fact. Emotion doesn’t enter into it. He asked me if I had any idea who the females were and I replied that I had not.”

  “Females?”

  “Female urine has a less pungent smell. There were also traces of blood found in the urine in the bladder of both victims but no blood found in the mouth or gums from the sticks. Pungency alone is not an indicator, but male urine cannot carry traces of blood because men do not menstruate. It was female urine.”

  “So Moran was right! The two men were killed in the Pashtun tradition by a woman or several women or someone who used female urine.”

  “So it seems,” he said grimly, moving on quickly. “Where’s Gideon? I didn’t see him at the luncheon table as I mounted the gangway.”

  “He’s dealing with the saboteurs. They’re both dead. Scorpion bites by the looks of things. Xenia found a jewel case in Lorna Baxter’s cabin while searching for burqas. The case was full of scorpions. It is now empty. I have it in my room. I’m going to question Mrs Baxter shortly. I didn’t want to speak to her during lunch in front of everyone.”

  “What, urgh,…” Disbelief had him choking on a crumb of flatbread. “What the blazes was she doing with scorpions in her jewel case?”

  “What the blazes was she doing with a jewel case? It was a Morocco case similar to mine. They don’t come cheap.”

  A glass of warm Pimms helped to unclag his glutinous throat. “How did she kill the saboteurs so quickly?”

  “She must have had help – either Hayter or Azrafel.” She watched him wince but wasn’t sure if the sour expression was because the Pimms was warm or because he refused to believe his ex-army chum could be guilty of anything more than incompetence and petty corruption. The latter seemed the likely culprit.

  “What happened on Agilkia Island with Ali Pasha?”

  “I expected hostility but received a warm welcome. Japhet is still alive. I fell into the bigoted trap of not being able to see beyond dark skin. The Nubian who attacked Gideon wasn’t Japhet, though he was wearing Japhet’s Turquerie slippers, possibly to incriminate him in the event of Gideon’s sudden demise. Ali Pasha went to the papyrus workshop in Luxor to have it out with Mallisham. Mallisham is creating his own fake artifacts. Herr Graf is selling them. Herr Graf passed fake artifacts to his own brother, Rhinehart, which resulted in the brother’s disgrace and suicide. According to Ali Pasha, Jurgen Graf was jealous of his younger brother.”

  “Why should we believe anything Ali Pasha says? He probably wants to divert suspicion form himself. Who but Sobek would play a dirty trick with crocodiles? However, if Herr Graf is dealing in fake artifacts, that gives him a motive for killing both Mallisham and Lee. There could be some double-dealing going on, including secret codes on some of the artifacts. And let’s not forget the tom
b that waits to be discovered. I wonder if Fraulein Graf is privy to the plan? Did she have a torn burqa?”

  The Countess recalled what Xenia said about the burqas. “Her burqa was intact, as was Daisy Clooney’s. She didn’t mention Lorna Baxter’s. Hypatia Lee’s burqa was missing.”

  “Hmm, I wonder if Fraulein Graf stole Miss Lee’s burqa to incriminate her.”

  “Hmm, I wonder if Ursula knows about her uncle’s jealous streak. I can speak to her straight after I speak to Lorna Baxter. It wouldn’t hurt to ask Hypatia about her missing burqa too. She was looking slightly feverish the last time I saw her.”

  “I’ll speak to Herr Graf about buying some artifacts. I’ll call Ali Pasha a fraud and see what he says. I’ll speak to Hayter too. I’ll tell him I suspect Ali Pasha released those crocodiles, just to see what he has to say. We don’t have much time. There’s a lot of disquiet at the construction camp. Gideon invited Willcocks, Aird, Baker and Dr Bell to dinner. Things could get out of hand fairly quickly if the workmen start linking the Sekhmet to dead crocodiles, ritualistic murder and evil curses.”

  “Keep an eye out for scorpions,” she warned.

  20

  Eye of Ra

  Someone sneezed.

  “That photic nerve response must be driving you to distraction,” cooed the Countess. “You poor darling! Hopefully, it will abate when we leave the solar-disc of Ra behind us and decamp to colder climes.”

  “That wasn’t me,” replied the doctor, pushing up from his chair. “It came from the lower deck. Whose bedrooms are down there? We weren’t talking too loudly, were we?”

  A look of consternation passed over her face. “I’m afraid we were. On the lower deck are Lorna Baxter, Daisy Clooney, Ursula Graf and Herr Graf.”

  He moved quickly to the guard rail and peered over as far as he could. “No one there, dammit!”

  “I think it was a woman’s sneeze.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Let’s get to work. No time to lose.”

  They raced to the centre of the ship where a flight of stairs led to the lower deck. Gideon was hurtling toward them, taking the stairs by twos. His blue eyes were spitting sparks and his stern face was set in a rigid frame.

  “Where’s Hayter?” he barked.

  They both glanced back at the door of the saloon. The action was intuitive.

  Gideon brushed roughly past them and made straight for the saloon. Dr Watson, feeling alarmed, did an about face and raced after Gideon. A spontaneous impulse propelled the Countess in the same direction.

  Hayter was slumped in an armchair. His eyes were closed but he wasn’t asleep because he was idly drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, as if marking time. The ubiquitous gin and tonic was, for once, not glued to the palm of his hand. Gideon shirt-fronted the Acting High Commissioner and hauled him out of the chair so that his legs dangled helplessly. He looked as if he was tap-dancing on his toes.

  “Where’s the key to the luggage room?”

  “What? Unhand me! Have you lost your senses, man? Let go!”

  Gideon let him drop and bunched a fist. “Where’s the key to the luggage room?” he repeated brusquely before telegraphing a punch to an unco-operative jaw that failed to respond in the desired manner first time round. The Acting High Commissioner bounced across the saloon like a cricket ball hit for six until it bumped up against the drinks trolley. Fortunately, it was at the tail end of the spin and the trolley didn’t come crashing down on top of it.

  Dr Watson could see what was coming next – Colonel Hayter’s lip was already cut and bleeding – so he put himself between the two men. “Calm down, Major Nash! What’s this about the luggage room?”

  Gideon realized that his cover had just been blown. Anger fuelled by frustration turned into fury. “Shut-up and step out of the way, Dr Watson. This doesn’t concern you!”

  No one could ever accuse Dr Watson of cowardice though he was a pacifist at heart. He stood his ground despite Gideon’s fist being twice the size of his. At the same time he realised his mistake and cringed but it was too late to recant. “I’m sorry, Major Nash, but you cannot go about beating up defenceless men. It does you no credit and I will not stand for it. If you have a bone to pick or an accusation to make, you must do it lawfully.”

  The Countess was worried Gideon’s next telegraph might be dispatched straight to the teeth of the well-meaning doctor. “The luggage room is where the saboteurs must have been imprisoned,” she reasoned quickly. “Whoever had the key to the luggage room must have killed them.” She looked directly at Gideon in an effort to distract him from his own fury, and wilfully held his gaze. “Is that right? Was it scorpions?”

  “Yes,” he grunted, breaking free from her powerful hold over him before glaring at Hayter, who had managed to pick himself up and was currently trying to muster some dignity. “Azrafel had a key but he didn’t go near the luggage room. Three men have sworn to that and one of the men was one of ours, working undercover. Moran escorted the men to the luggage room then left Hayter to lock the door. Moran left the ship almost immediately. Hayter stayed below for about ten minutes. He was the last one to see them.”

  Gideon took a menacing side-step around the doctor. Hayter dodged and fumbled for the key in his top pocket.

  “Yes, I have a key to the luggage room. Here it is. But this is the first I’ve heard that the saboteurs are dead. Scorpions? What scorpions? Where would I get scorpions from? When I left those men, they were alive. I remained below for ten minutes because I was checking entrances and exits, cupboards and storerooms, to make sure no one was hiding down there to avoid exactly what just happened.”

  The Countess was the first to notice his voice was no longer a whiny stammer; it was firm and forceful. “Your voice?” she said.

  Hayter slapped the key into Gideon’s hand as he by-passed him and picked up his gin and tonic tumbler from a side table. “The game is up. There’s no gin in here. It’s water. Taste it.” He handed the glass to Dr Watson. “I’ve been working undercover too, off my own bat, unofficially. The last High Commissioner suspected Mallisham of dealing in fake artifacts. It’s not the sort of thing we want to encourage in the colonies. It gives the Empire a bad name and sets a precedent that anything goes. Just before he left to join the Foreign Legion, Rex Bootham informed me of his suspicions and hand-balled the problem to me. When I heard Mallisham was travelling with Mr Lee to Philae I decided to get on board. I could check out the dam, keep an eye on the Eastern advocate,” he paused and cast a dubious look Gideon’s way, “and hopefully find the proof I needed to nail Mallisham at the same time.” He paused and looked wryly at Dr Watson. “Have you tasted it?”

  “Yes, it’s water,” confirmed the doctor before passing the glass to Gideon.

  “Please continue,” said Gideon after taking a sip and agreeing it was not gin, “but keep your voice down.”

  “When I discovered Dr Watson was in Cairo I feared he might spoil my well-laid plans so I feigned being a drunk to put him off spending any time with me. I do apologise. I had recently suffered a bout of influenza and my weight was down. I still looked a bit sickly and thought I could use that to my advantage. But as luck would have it, the good doctor ended up on the Sekhmet too. I had to keep pretending to be a drunk. I kept re-filling the gin bottle with water to dilute it and whenever I thought no one was looking I tipped the contents of my glass into the pot plants or spilled as much of it as I could. When Mallisham and Lee were killed I actually suspected Colonel Moran and Mr Longshanks, whom I now understand is a British agent, presumably looking into the sabotage of the dam.” He extended a hand to the man who had just given him a bloody lip. “Welcome aboard, Major Nash. If you are looking for who killed the two saboteurs you will need to look further afield.”

  “Who suggested locking those men in the luggage room?” asked the Countess, breaking up the male camaraderie. “Moran or Azrafel?”

  “Azrafel,” replied the colonel, wondering how his old cadre, bl
ess his provincial Scottish heart, had ever found such an unlikely travelling companion – autocratic, aristocratic, attractive, clever and damned rich to boot!

  “Hmm, Azrafel could have observed from the upper deck as the two men were being escorted with their wrists bound. He could have prepared the luggage room in advance,” she suggested, thinking quickly. “He would have had about ten minutes. According to my maid, he had been checking the cabins. He was the likeliest person to have removed that jewel case from Lorna Baxter’s cabin, possibly expecting jewellery and finding scorpions instead. He could have released them in the luggage room, and then placed the empty jewel case in the saloon. Lorna Baxter would hardly complain that her scorpions were missing. If he offered the men a drink of water with some sedative in it then they would have been sleepy or numb. They would have slumped to the floor and been bitten many times over. It also explains why they didn’t cry out.”

  “Blast me down!” exclaimed the colonel. “He had two tin cups waiting on a shelf in the luggage room. I thought that was mighty efficient on his part.”

  Gideon surged toward the door. “I’ll arrest him now! Colonel Hayter would you care to come? We’ll pick up a Smith & Wesson from the gun cupboard on the way.”

  “No,” said the Countess, pulling him up short. “No arrest as yet. Azrafel thinks you suspect the colonel. Let him go on thinking it. Colonel Hayter can be locked in his room. It is a fitting prison for someone of his rank - only a ruse until dinner, of course. You may keep your own key, colonel. We want the ringleader, remember. And we have a murderer to catch as well. I want to speak to Lorna Baxter about why she had scorpions in her jewel case, and to Miss Lee about her missing burqa. Dr Watson will speak to Herr Graf about Ali Pasha. In the meantime, you can get that Smith & Wesson and fill Colonel Hayter in on what we are dealing with.”

  Gideon acquiesced and they parted ways.

  Miss Lee’s room was actually closer so the Countess went there first. She feigned sympathy but Miss Lee was not having it; her manner was haughty and her tone abrupt.