The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 2: Cold Wars (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #2)

by Michael Panush

  “Sounds like a plan.” I reached for a cigarette as I looked back to the bullet hole in my auto’s window. “Hop in. We’ll go around and head to the front. I feel like taking a peek at that sixth floor, seeing just what Nestor’s got stashed up there.”

  “But how are we to gain entrance?” Weatherby asked. “The place is swarming with Ushabti guards.”

  I looked down at Henry Wallace. “I’ve cracked open more armed German fortresses than you’ve celebrated birthdays. I’ve already got a good idea. But it’s gonna depend on the little fellow here. Can you handle it, son? It might get a little rough, but all we need is a distraction and then we’ll be back to bail you out before things get too hot.”

  Weatherby stared at me. “I do not want him exposed to danger, Mort! He’s in my care, and it’s my job to—”

  “I want to help,” Henry Wallace said softly. “I’ll help. And don’t worry, Weatherby. It won’t be that bad, and you guys will be nearby. Right?”

  “Aces.” I started the automobile. “It’s a simple thing, Henry Wallace. All you gotta do is throw a temper tantrum.”

  I drove the Roadmaster back to the front of the Duat Grand and parked. I peered inside the glass doors, getting a feel for how crowded it was. The joint was packed like a lifeboat leaving a sinking ship. Sly Baum wasn’t there, probably having moved to high stakes tables in other casinos. But there were plenty of other customers, and we’d blend in fine without those clay mooks spotting us. Weatherby and I stayed in the lobby while Henry Wallace walked further in.

  The kid had his hands in his pockets, and kept on pushing his glasses up his nose and staring around. He waited until he got to the center of the room, and then threw back his head and started to scream and cry. “I want a red racecar! And a BB gun! And a model airplane! And a real airplane!” He kept on shouting tons of items, yelling louder than the slot machines and the whirring roulette wheels.

  Everyone looked his way. He kept on shouting, stamping his feet and waving his little fists in the air. It worked like a charm. A dozen Ushabti headed his way, giving us a free run to the stairwell. Weatherby’s eyes were fastened on Henry Wallace, his lips a grim line. I tapped his shoulder.

  “Come on, let’s make some tracks,” I muttered.

  We started hurrying across the floor, moving for the stairs. Weatherby still looked sour. “We are using the poor child,” he said. “He is an intelligent, polite, friendly, and wonderful boy and we are using him!”

  “It’s for the case,” I replied, as we reached the stairwell. We started to walk up the red velvet steps. The stairwell wound around, bringing us to the second floor. There were more tables and rows of slots. We kept going. The Ushabti guards had all headed down, trying to stop Henry Wallace’s tantrum.

  Weatherby was not convinced. “Anything for the case, is that it, Mort?” he demanded, as we reached the third floor. I stopped suddenly and stared at the end of the stairwell. Weatherby did the same.

  “Almost anything,” I said. Miss Rosa was there, looking down at us. She walked down slowly, her eyes flashing. If she raised the alarm, a small army of Ushabti would descend on us in seconds. We wouldn’t simply be shown the door. I had a feeling that we’d be lucky to get a shallow grave in the desert.

  Miss Rosa folded her arms and looked us over. “Mr. Candle,” she said. “I believe this area is off-limits to guests of the Duat Grand.”

  “Well, you know me, sister.” I leaned on the railing, giving her a grin. “I’m always doing things I shouldn’t.” I leaned forward. “Your new lover’s got some strange habits, Miss Rosa. And some strange friends. These guards of his are made of clay. You ever been up to the sixth floor? Do you know what he’s got up there?”

  She sighed. “I’ve liked you, Mort. In Havana, you were a good man, helping a father find his lost son. And now, here you are and what are you doing?”

  “Making a living.”

  “You will not be doing much of that if you cross Nestor Caduceus.” She was cool as an icicle and could make any man melt. I tried not to. She leaned close to me. “I won’t call the guards,” she said, and I felt a little relief wash over me. “And I’ll tell you this, you loco detective – Nestor Caduceus is kind to me and he is dangerous. That is all that I know. Don’t pry more than you have to.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for the tip.”

  Weatherby smiled at her, his pale face going red. “Y-yes, Miss Rosa. It is wonderful to see you. You look wonderful, by the way.” I stared at Weatherby. He could give you a lecture on Egyptian iconography at the drop of a hat, but toss a pretty dame into the room and saying hello became an ordeal. He put his hands in his pockets and stared at his shoes.

  “Thank you, Weatherby. It is good to see you too.” Miss Rosa smiled at him, and passed us on the stairwell. I looked back at Weatherby and saw him grinning like an idiot. I shook my head and the smile vanished. We kept on going up the stairs.

  The fourth and fifth floors were nothing special — offices and living quarters, and we didn’t have time to search each room. Besides, I could tell that the goods were on the sixth floor, where the stairwell ended in a massive set of double doors, covered in carved hieroglyphs.

  Weatherby read them carefully. “He who enters this chamber shall have the wrath of the Gods fall upon him. The cobra will bite at him, and the scorpion will sting him, and the crocodile will have his flesh for an evening meal. Pestilence, famine, death, woe and destruction will come to all who come to this place.”

  I shrugged. “Could’ve just put a ‘do not disturb’ sign,” I said, and kicked open the doors.

  We stepped inside. The chamber was wide and made of carefully carved stone. Hieroglyphics and carvings of Egyptian gods decorated the walls, all glowing faintly in the light of blazing torches. A great cobra was coiled up near the door, thankfully sleeping. It was bigger than a python, with fangs like switchblades. But I hardly noticed it. I was looking at the strange device in the center of the room.

  It was a set of scales, twice as tall as a man. A tall feather hovered over one scale, and a small piece of bloody flesh, still beating, sat on the other. Strange, shining silver chains covered the scales, wrapped around it a dozen times, and then lead down into a dark pit behind them. I didn’t see what was lurking in the pit. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  “Good heavens,” Weatherby whispered. “The scales, used for weighing souls. The Feather of Truth.” He pointed to the red sphere. “And the heart of a good, innocent person.”

  “What the hell is it doing?” I asked. “And what’s with the chains?”

  “The chains are made of electrum, a combination of gold and silver renowned for its magical properties. Nestor Caduceus must be using them to hijack the process of judgment, and then use the magical power to bend fate – granting his casino good luck and turning fate itself against his rivals.” He pointed to the heart. “But that organ seems drained of energy. See how it sags and the blood trickles out of it.”

  I didn’t want to get too close, but I could see that the heart was nearly free of blood. Weatherby continued, staring at the organ. “It must be a heart from a fantastically pure person,” he said. “Someone who hasn’t sinned, or even felt temptation. And it is very small.” He looked up at me. His voice broke. “God,” he said. “It’s a child’s heart.”

  Both of us exchanged a glance. Nestor Caduceus seemed to take an interest in Henry Wallace, and now I knew why. He needed the hearts of children to power his machine. And we had just left poor Henry Wallace all alone, on the casino floor — a perfect target for Caduceus.

  Without another word, we turned and ran to the doors, then started to pound down the stairs. I reached into my coat, grabbing the handles of my automatics. Weatherby hurried ahead of me, his long legs leaping over the stairs as we ran furiously for the first floor. I was a sucker, a chump, an idiot – and an innocent kid was gonna be gutted in some deranged Egyptian ceremony because of it.

  We ran on, dashing down the stairwell, an
d passing the second floor. I could already tell it was gonna be too late as we neared the first floor. A small circle of curious patrons had formed around Henry Wallace. A half-a-dozen Ushabti were there with the boy, and Nestor Caduceus had his hand on Henry Wallace’s slim shoulder. Caduceus was smiling, looking more like a serpent than ever, and I could tell Henry Wallace was smart enough to be nervous.

  “Don’t worry, my boy,” Caduceus said. “Just follow me into my office, and we’ll keep you safe and happy until your father calls for you.”

  “W-well, I’m really not sure. Maybe I should wait a little, just in case—” Henry Wallace started.

  “Nonsense. Just follow me, little one, and all will be well.” Caduceus started to steer the kid away.

  I motioned for Weatherby to stop. I had a feeling we were gonna have to shoot it out to save Henry Wallace, but I didn’t like the odds. The Ushabti were scattered through the casino floor, all of them armed and ready for a fight. It would be me against a small army of guns, and there was no time to find cover. Weatherby clenched his teeth and reached for his revolver. He didn’t care if he had to take on an army and a half. He’d start shooting and get us both killed – for a chance at keeping a child safe.

  But then a clear feminine voice cut through the crowd. “Oh, there you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” We watched as a teenage girl, the same age as Weatherby, slid through the crowd and ran to Henry Wallace’s side. She grabbed his hand, pulling him away from Caduceus. “I’m so sorry,” she told Caduceus. “He just slipped away. Let’s get outside. We’ve got the car waiting.”

  She was a slim girl, with her light brown hair in two long braids. She wore a red felt vest and a tie under a small gabardine coat, and a long pleated skirt. She looked a little too smart for sock hops, and more like she would spend her free time in a library. Henry Wallace took her hand and she gave him a kindly smile, then steered him towards the door. Caduceus watched them go. I had a feeling he would have made a move against her, if a hundred tourist eyes hadn’t been watching. Gunning down a teenage girl and little boy would probably bring bad publicity.

  Weatherby and I exchanged a glance, as if to make sure that we had seen the same thing. Then we hurried down the stairs, dashed through the casino floor and ran outside into the night air. The girl and Henry Wallace were at the bottom of the stairwell – right next to a black Rambler Sedan resting near the curb.

  “Wait!” Weatherby cried. “That child is under my care!”

  The girl looked at Weatherby and gave him a sardonic grin. She put her arm around Henry Wallace’s shoulders. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it,” she said. She smiled. “I’m sorry. I should explain myself. My name is Evelyn Dearborn, and my father is—”

  But Weatherby and Henry Wallace beat her to it. “Doc Darby Dearborn, the world-renowned, globetrotting archaeologist, antiquarian, and adventurer,” Weatherby said, flushing as he smiled. “By all the gods and devils, Miss Dearborn, I read your father’s books when I was a boy.”

  “You still are a boy…” Evelyn pointed out.

  “Papa, I mean, my father bought me some of those books too!” Henry Wallace added. “They’re really good. Is he actually your father, ma’am?”

  Evelyn Dearborn nodded. She pointed to the Rambler sedan, and we moved down the steps to stand next to it. I didn’t know Doc Dearborn from Adam, and was still a little wary. These people had been following us, and for all I knew, their intentions were as honorable as Caduceus’. I looked to Weatherby. “Who the hell is Doc Darby Dearborn?” I asked.

  “You never heard of him? I find that unsurprising, as you are attracted to the simple and martial pursuits, and care little for esoteric studies and research into ancient civilizations.” Weatherby laid it on a little thick but I kept listening. “Doc Dearborn was an archaeologist and adventurer, active in the late thirties and during the war. I devoured his books, detailing his exploration of hidden ruins, encounters with lost civilizations and strange beasts, and all manner of adventures. I have no idea what he – and his daughter – are doing in Las Vegas.”

  We reached the curb and the Rambler sedan. The window rolled down and a head poked out. It was of an elderly fellow, with a neat white moustache and goatee. He had a pinched face, and bright eyes. He wore a pith helmet and a khaki shirt under a long coat. “Evelyn, my shimmering jewel, what happened in there?” His bright eyes flashed in my direction. “And who are your friends?”

  “I just met them, Daddy,” Evelyn said. “The little one was about to be taken by Caduceus. I know we’re not sure about Caduceus, but I judged it would be best to take him away from the casino floor.”

  “I’m sure about him, Doc Dearborn. And I don’t like what I know,” I said. “I’m Mort Candle. The kid’s Weatherby Stein and the smaller kid’s Henry Wallace Baum. We’re detectives, investigating the Duat Grand. It sounds like you and your daughter are doing the same. Want to go somewhere quiet to exchange notes?”

  Doc Dearborn looked us over and looked to Evelyn. She gave a quick nod and he agreed. “There’s a coffee and pie diner a little ways off the Strip,” Dearborn explained. “It’s not terrible. Follow me and we’ll go there directly. Come along, Evelyn. We mustn’t keep our new friends waiting.”

  Evelyn gave us a polite nod and headed to her car. They sped away, and I moved down to the Roadmaster to follow them. Weatherby’s eyes were fixed on the spot of sidewalk where Evelyn had been. I could tell the kid was dizzy over her. “You like her?” I asked, as I started the engine.

  “Um, well…” He was flustered and fidgeted in the passenger. “She seems to know exactly what she is doing,” he finally managed to say.

  “I got to meet Doc Dearborn,” Henry Wallace chirped. The kid was in the back, surrounded once again by my guns. “That is just swell. I bet Papa won’t even believe it!”

  “Just wait until we tell you what’s on the sixth floor of the Duat Grand,” I said. “And then we’ll talk about what’s believable.”

  After a little driving we reached the all-night diner. The joint was empty, except for a fat man in a stained apron at the counter. He gave us a dirty look until I ordered a coffee for me and Doc Dearborn, and then he slapped down the mugs on our table in the back. I took a sip and it tasted like mud. I let it rest on the table and thicken, and then looked up at Dearborn. He smiled.

  “I’m gonna tell you the whole damn story,” I said, reaching for a cigarette. I noticed Weatherby was staring at Evelyn Dearborn. Whenever she looked back at him, he busied himself with staring at the napkins and his face went red. “It’s crazy, but I’m guessing you’ve seen your share of crazy things, Doc. So I’ll bump gums and you’ll listen.”

  I told him about Don Vizzini giving us the case, and our initial search. I told him about the sixth floor, with the set of enchanted scales, and the pit, and the bloody sacrifice of a child’s heart that kept it all working. Doc Dearborn nodded as he listened, an ivory pipe smoking in one of his weathered hands. Evelyn was just as interested, and when I finished, she was the first to speak.

  “I believe we know the identity of Mr. Caduceus,” she said. “He’s Nepher-Ka, a heretical minor pharaoh from the Middle Kingdom period of Ancient Egypt.” She talked like he was reciting her times tables. “Nepher-Ka came to power under suspicious circumstances, murdering the previous pharaoh with a squad of trained and vicious baboons. Once he came to power, he abolished worship of the old gods and declared that everyone follow Apep.”

  “The Primal God of Chaos and Darkness,” Weatherby whispered. “Often depicted as a serpent.”

  “Exactly,” Evelyn agreed, giving Weatherby a small smile. “You know your stuff.”

  “He’s a Stein, my jewel,” Dearborn said. “The last male of his line. They know quite a bit of these matters.” He puffed his ivory pipe. “Please continue.”

  “Well, Nepher-Ka’s reign ended in bloodshed. The royal guards turned against him and killed him. But he had time to work dark enchantments
, promising that life would be returned to him if his sarcophagus was ever breached. And about a month ago, in a traveling museum and sideshow in Reno, that very thing happened. My father and I attempted to stop it, but the owner ignored us. Nepher-Ka emerged, sucked out the lives of several people and escaped. And now he’s working here.”

  I nodded. It all made sense – given how nuts everything else was. “You daughter knows the score,” I told Doc Dearborn.

  “She does indeed, sir. My daughter exceeds myself in knowledge and adventuring ability. After the death of her dear mother, I decided to raise her myself, so she might learn by my side, as we ventured across the world. She has proven invaluable.”

  “Oh Daddy,” Evelyn said, with an embarrassed shake of her head.

  Weatherby considered the information. “So, now Nepher-Ka – aka Nestor Caduceus—is using the hearts of children in a ritual to ensure good luck for his casino and the downfall of all others. Doubtlessly, he’s just warming up the machine. Perhaps in another month, he may have the entire city of Las Vegas firmly in his skeletal grasp. Further dark rituals may give him unimaginable power.”

  “So we stop him,” Henry Wallace announced. He was sitting between me and Weatherby, and he looked around nervously as we all stared at him. He looked at his shoes. “That seems the right thing to do. Maybe we can go to the police, or the guy who hired you, Mr. Candle, but we have to stop him.”

  Doc Dearborn slapped the table. “A magnificent suggestion,” he said. “Mr. Candle, I believe you are not unused to violence in your line of work?”

  “W-we’ve fought our fair share of monsters,” Weatherby said, nodding rapidly. He was staring straight at Evelyn while he talked. The kid was trying to impress her. “And we’ve thus far managed to remain alive.”