The Mummy's Revenge

by Andrew Beasley

  “Inspector Diggins can worry about getting the jewels back, we’re only after the mummy,” said Billy.

  “On that subject, I found a strand of fibre snagged on the safe and it looked surprisingly clean for something which was meant to be thousands of years old.”

  Billy nodded, taking it in. “The servants confirmed Lady F’s story,” he said. “The mummy made straight for the secret safe. If it weren’t for the fact that the burglar was thousands of years old and as dead as a doornail, I’d say this was a simple inside job.”

  Doogie nodded enthusiastically. “Servants are always pinching stuff from their employers.”

  Charley raised an eyebrow.

  “Or so I’m told, anyhow,” Doogie said quietly.

  “No sign of forced entry, all the windows and doors were locked,” said Billy, opening his notebook. “But what do you make of this?”

  Charley examined the pictures eagerly. “Hieroglyphics,” she said. “Ancient Egyptian picture language.”

  “Like a code,” said Billy.

  “Exactly,” said Charley, “so I’d better get cracking. I’ve got some books in my luggage which might help. Translating ancient languages is never an easy task, and hieroglyphics are famously difficult to decipher.”

  “Each picture is a word,” said Billy, showing the full extent of his knowledge.

  “I wish it was that simple,” said Charley, “but there’s more to it than that, unfortunately. Not all pictures are words, some are sounds.”

  “Like letters.”

  “Yes, but some sounds that we use in English weren’t used by the Egyptians at all, like ‘th’ – ‘Thoth’ may have been pronounced ‘tote’, for example. Whilst other sounds that we think are different, the Egyptians thought were the same, such as ‘f’ and ‘v’. Anyway, that’s when it starts to get really complicated.” Charley knew that she was showing off a little, but she couldn’t resist it.

  “Most Egyptian scribes left out vowel sounds altogether and just used consonants. So to give the reader a clue as to the word they were writing they’d use an extra glyph, a determinative, on the end. Then there are ideograms – those are glyphs which represent a thing or an object without spelling it out. Plus, and this is the best bit, the hieroglyphs can be written left to right, right to left, vertically or horizontally.”

  Charley stopped in mid-flow and frowned at the paper Billy had given her. “What have you drawn here, Billy? Is that meant to be a dog?”

  “It’s a man,” said Billy.

  “Oh dear,” Charley sighed. “This may take longer than I thought.”

  Sir Gordon’s house was massive. More like a castle really, Billy thought, with its turrets and crenellated walls. A harassed-looking butler approached the carriage.

  “I am Mr Cowley,” he said. “This way if you please.” He helped Charley down and then directed them inside with a small bow. “Sir Gordon is expecting you.”

  With a little help, Charley was able to get her wheelchair up the front step and the two detectives found themselves in a huge hallway, a shimmering chandelier above their heads. “Doogie will look after your luggage,” said Cowley, “and rooms have been prepared for you upstairs.”

  Charley groaned inwardly as she took in the mountain of stairs that she would need to negotiate.

  “We have a lift,” Cowley added, as if reading her thoughts. “Sir Gordon had it installed last year at great expense. He is very proud that his house is the only private dwelling outside of London to have such a modern facility. We all so enjoy His Lordship’s little…eccentricities.” In a nervous gesture, Cowley’s fingers briefly touched his perfect fringe, checking that not a single hair was out of place.

  Billy and Charley followed silently, their heads turning left and right as they tried to take in their extraordinary surroundings. Many fashionable houses contained a “cabinet of curiosity”, a collection of strange and wonderful objects from around the globe. Sir Gordon seemed to have turned his entire house into one enormous curiosity cabinet. The walls were crowded with exhibits and oddities. In frames. In display cases. Everywhere they turned they were surrounded by the macabre and the bizarre. Fierce masks from Africa. Bronze statues. Bones and skulls and beetles of every size and shape. Knives and axes and arrowheads from a hundred different tribes. A stuffed walrus suspended from the ceiling.

  For Billy, it felt as if he was being assaulted on every side. Most houses had some supernatural traces in them. Faint footsteps of long-dead ghosts. The echoes of joy and sorrow lingering in the brickwork. Whispers from the spirit realm. But Sir Gordon’s house was shouting at him. There was something very wrong in 44 Morningside Place.

  Cowley opened the sliding doors of what appeared to be a metal cage and gestured for Billy and Charley to move into the small dark cave beyond. The butler stepped inside with them and then closed the doors with an ominous clang. The lift floor shuddered and, with a creak and groan of pulleys, it began to slowly rise, just as their spirits fell. They both felt it, not just Billy with his sixth sense. Some buildings can be rotted by damp; the joists and the floorboards – the bones of the house – silently decaying until the whole thing collapses. 44 Morningside Place was being eaten away by something darker and far more deadly.

  Billy leaned in towards Charley and whispered, “What have we got ourselves into this time, Duchess?”

  “And this is His Lordship’s Egyptian hall,” said Cowley, as they completed the grand tour of 44 Morningside Place. The butler opened the door for them but Billy placed a warning hand on Charley’s shoulder.

  “What is it?” asked Charley.

  “Echoes of the tomb,” said Billy softly.

  Although she didn’t have her partner’s “gift”, Charley understood – he was sensing something dangerous. She paused…and then went straight in. That was what S.C.R.E.A.M. detectives did.

  Cowley had explained that some items had been destroyed when the mummy went on its rampage but there was still cabinet after cabinet full of Egyptian treasures. Pottery and jewellery and fragments of the past. Racks of gleaming weapons, statues of strange gods and beautiful women. And gold. So much gold. It was breathtaking. But what really held Charley’s attention were the dead things.

  Wrapped in rotting bandages they were assembled at the far end of the hall, like the strangest family that ever lived. Or died. From their outlines Charley could recognize the preserved remains of a cat, a monkey and a baby crocodile. Behind this disturbing gathering stood an upright coffin. Its door was open and its occupant was gone.

  Beside her, Billy took a shuddering breath, but kept his thoughts to himself.

  “Billy,” she said, turning. But Billy wasn’t there any more.

  He was moving like a sleepwalker towards the open casket, heavy-footed and clumsy. His legs were stiff, as if he was suffering from rigor mortis, Charley recognized with horror; the rigidity that came over a corpse when the life had drained away.

  “Billy,” she said, louder this time, following him. If Billy heard her then he didn’t show it. Charley spun her wheels and drew level with him. Billy was panting in short, sharp bursts. And this close she could see the trembling in his fingertips. His eyes were impossibly wide, the pupils expanded into deep dark holes, seeing only the sarcophagus – or perhaps into the spirit world beyond.

  Cowley caught up with them. “Are ye all right, Master Flint?” he said.

  Charley shushed him urgently. “I’ve seen him like this before,” she said. “We mustn’t wake him from the trance.”

  Billy’s expression grew more intense. Now his eyes rolled up into his head until only the whites were showing and his eyelids fluttered rapidly. Charley hated to see Billy like this; whatever was happening to her friend, it looked like torture. And still Billy’s focus remained on the empty sarcophagus…the last earthly resting place of the marauding mummy.

  Billy continued to stumble forwards. Then suddenly, after half a dozen faltering paces, he picked up speed until he was half
running, half falling towards that terrible open coffin.

  Billy reached the sarcophagus. He stepped inside and turned around to face them, his eyes screwed tightly shut. Long seconds passed while he stood where the dead Egyptian had stood. Then his eyes sprang open again, wide and staring. Billy’s jaw twitched.

  “For those who dare disturb my tomb, Remember you have sealed your doom!” he chanted.

  Charley’s hands clenched into fists as the message from beyond the grave vibrated inside her soul. The ripples spread out through 44 Morningside Place, until it seemed that every timber, every brick resonated with the mummy’s curse.

  Cowley was rooted to the spot. The blood had drained from his cheeks, leaving his face as grey and cold as the grave.

  The message delivered, Billy dropped to the ground. Lifeless. Charley rushed to him. Leaning over the side of her chair, she placed one hand on his cheek, rousing him gently. “I’m here, partner,” she said.

  Billy woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright. He looked confused, as if he was struggling to make sense of the world around him.

  “Billy,” said Charley soothingly. “It’s me, Charley.”

  Billy stared at her as if they had never met, then, with another blink, the light of recognition dawned. “It’s real,” said Billy. “The mummy, the curse, all of it.”

  Charley nodded. She was a scientist at heart but she was also a S.C.R.E.A.M. detective. She knew that science had only begun to scratch the surface of the mysteries of the universe.

  “We can solve this,” she said, but her voice wavered slightly as she said it.

  “Yes,” said Billy, squeezing her hand, hearing the tremble in her voice. “I’m afraid too.”

  “Blast,” said Charley. Back in her room after the tour of the house, she was rifling through her suitcase for the third time with growing irritation. But it wasn’t there. She felt a sudden pang of emptiness.

  It was silly, Charley knew – it was only a small piece of silver. But it was something she treasured and she always carried it with her. Her father had given it to her and when she held it in her hand, she imagined that he was near.

  “Blast and damn!”

  Where was it? She remembered having it at the hotel because she’d shoved it into her bag when they had to get out in such a hurry.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Billy, arriving in the doorway.

  “I can’t find my watch.”

  “The little pendant you wear round your neck? You had it on the train, I’m sure.” Billy frowned. “It’ll come to light,” he said hopefully.

  He was about to help her look when Doogie knocked on the door. “If you’d care to follow me,” he said, “Sir Gordon has rearranged the conservatory so that ye have an area to work in.”

  Charley smiled. “Excellent,” she said. “Be a good chap and carry these down for me too, please.” She indicated her precious microscope and the bags containing some of her books and chemicals. “I collected a rather interesting sample at Lady Fitzpatrick’s and I’m keen to unravel its secrets.”

  “Oooh,” said Billy. “I’m intrigued.”

  “It’s that tiny strand of cloth fibre I told you about.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m slightly less excited now.”

  Doogie hesitated. He still hadn’t picked up Charley’s microscope.

  “Is there a problem?” Charley asked.

  “No, miss, but…I don’t think ye’ll be needin’ it.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “His Lordship has a surprise for ye. It’s best if ye just come and look.”

  They returned to the lift. Cowley was out, walking Wellington apparently. Doogie closed the doors and, with the usual creaking and groaning of the suspension cables, the lift juddered down to the ground floor.

  “This way,” said Doogie, bouncing ahead of them down the corridor. Charley paused at a huge portrait of Sir Gordon. She smiled. Though it was definitely Sir Gordon, the artist had been very kind, making His Lordship taller and much slimmer than he was in real life. “He looks a real Skinny Malinky long legs,” Doogie chuckled.

  When they had wiped the grins from their faces, Doogie took them the rest of the way, finally stopping at a set of double doors. Doogie turned the handle and flung them wide. “Welcome to the crime lab!”

  Charley gasped. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Like every room in 44 Morningside Place, Sir Gordon’s conservatory was full of surprises.

  The two detectives were surrounded on all sides by exotic plants from around the world. Most gardeners were content with an orange tree and a few orchids. Clearly not Sir Gordon. Some of the plants were vast, with knotted trunks and huge waxy leaves. Vines climbed up the walls, and hung in loops from the ceiling. Dotted here and there through the undergrowth were the ghostly white shapes of statues – Greek beauties that had been frozen in time, furry moss clinging to their perfect faces like beards.

  Charley spotted the huge white trumpet-shaped flowers of the datura. She brought her nose close and drank in the heavenly aroma. Billy cupped another flower, like a bright red mouth surrounded by thin spiky leaves, pulling it towards his nose for a sniff.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” warned Charley.

  “It’s just a plant,” shrugged Billy. “How dangerous can a plant be?”

  A fat fly buzzed over, drawn by the strange flower’s sickly scent. It landed and quickly found that its six tiny feet were stuck. Before it could escape the plant had closed around the poor insect, trapping it inside a red velvet cage.

  “It’s a Venus flytrap,” said Charley. “A carnivorous plant.”

  “A plant that eats meat?” said Billy. “Lovely.”

  The plants stirred suddenly overhead and, looking up, they saw a flash of blue and yellow as a huge bird came squawking and shrieking out of the canopy of leaves.

  “What the—?” said Billy, ducking as the bird swooped past, its beak clacking.

  “Ach, don’t worry, that’s just Queen Victoria,” said Doogie. “She’s a parrot.”

  “God save me!” Queen Victoria screeched from somewhere overhead. “Show us your bloomers!”

  “Nobody knows who taught her to say that,” said Doogie, a little sheepishly.

  “I imagine it’s a complete mystery,” said Billy, giving the young lad a knowing look. “Any other animals that we should know about?”

  “Only Prince Albert,” said Doogie. “He’s a snake.”

  “Of course he is,” said Billy. “Stands to reason.”

  “There,” said Charley softly. Billy followed the line of her gaze until he spotted the coiled shape, wrapped around a branch. It was a vivid green with a yellow diamond pattern down its scaly back.

  “That’s a big snake,” said Billy.

  “A green boa,” said Charley, “quite a beautiful specimen actually.”

  “If you say so,” said Billy. Prince Albert looked at Billy and poked out a forked tongue. It hissed menacingly and Billy took a step back. “I feel like I’m in a zoo. In what way is this a crime lab?”

  “In this way,” said Doogie proudly. “Sir Gordon had Mr Cowley working half the night to get this ready.”

  They followed the path through the conservatory and found that an area had been cleared for them. A blackboard had been installed, accompanied by a new box of chalk. Positioned next to that was a large map of Edinburgh on an easel and an extensive selection of reference books. There were also chairs, tables, pencils, paper, notepads, ink pads, a magnifying glass, reading lamps, an impressive chemistry set, Sir Gordon’s own camera and, to Charley’s delight, the finest microscope she had ever seen.

  “Look at this!” she said.

  “Look at this!” said Billy, heading for a side table where a tea urn was bubbling merrily and a plate of biscuits had been arranged. “Sir Gordon really has thought of everything,” he said, spraying crumbs. He was bringing a second biscuit to his lips when Queen Victoria swooped down and snatched it right
out of his hand.

  “She does that,” said Doogie.

  Billy glared at the bird and shoved another biscuit into his mouth whole; he wasn’t taking any risks this time.

  Now that they weren’t in the thick jungle part of the conservatory and were far enough away from Prince Albert, Billy could see that this would be a good place to work. The windows let in a clear light and a vent provided a pleasant breeze. There was even an ornamental pool with a fountain in the middle and beautiful fish swimming in slow circles. The tinkling of the water was very relaxing, almost like music. Although the effect was somewhat spoiled by the glass tank nearby which held some enormous hairy spiders and a selection of other equally horrible scuttling things. Billy shivered; he didn’t like bugs.

  “Don’t worry,” Charley said, reading the look on his face. “None of those spiders or scorpions could actually kill you. Oh, except for those yellow ones. They’re deathstalker scorpions. They are deadly. One sting is all it would take.”

  “Where is Sir Gordon, by the way?” Billy changed the subject, and edged away from the crawling nasties. “We haven’t seen him since we arrived.”

  “His Lordship has business in town,” said Doogie. “He said something about buying a gun. He’s afraid… We all are.”

  By flickering candlelight, in his secret, dark place, the Sandman was busy. His eyes narrowed to slits as he concentrated on his task. Egyptian magick as powerful as this couldn’t be rushed. Preparation was everything.

  He had bathed in scalding hot water and dressed in the white linen robes of a Lector Priest – an Egyptian magician. The braziers were lit and the coals were glowing red-hot. With ceremony, the Sandman placed an earthenware bowl on the coals and then carefully lowered a block of wax into the dish. Within seconds the wax had softened and was becoming a bubbling soup. Using tongs, he removed the bowl from the coals and poured the molten wax into a wooden mould.

  The Sandman smiled as the wax ran into the recesses and the shape became clear. Two arms, two legs, a body, a head. He was making a figure, a little wax person. But not just any person…this doll would have a name.