The Tomb

by F. Paul Wilson

  “Eddie, how are you?” Nellie said, extending her hand.

  “Nellie! How good to see you!” Burkes took her hand and kissed it. He was a burly man of about fifty, with graying hair and a mustache. He looked at Gia, then smiled. “Miss DiLauro! What an unexpected pleasure! You look wonderful! Allow me to introduce you both to Mr. Kusum Bahkti of the Indian Delegation.”

  The Indian made a small bow at the waist but did not extend his hand. “A pleasure to meet you both.”

  Gia took an instant dislike to him. His dark, angular face was a mask, his eyes unreadable. He seemed to be hiding something. His gaze passed over her as if she were an ordinary piece of furniture, but came to rest and remain avidly on Nellie.

  A waiter came around with a tray of champagne-filled glasses. Burkes gave one each to Nellie and Gia, then offered one to Mr. Bahkti, who shook his head.

  “Sorry, Kusum,” Burkes said. “Forgot you don’t drink. Can I get you anything else? A fruit punch?”

  Mr. Bahkti shook his head. “Don’t trouble yourself. Perhaps I’ll examine the buffet table later and see if you’ve put out any of those good English chocolates.”

  “Are you a chocolate fancier?” Nellie said. “I adore it.”

  “Yes. I developed a taste for it when I was with the London Embassy. I brought a small supply with me when I came to this country, but that was six months ago, and it has long since been depleted.”

  “Just today I received a box of Black Magic from London. Have you ever had those?”

  Gia saw genuine pleasure in Mr. Bahkti’s smile. “Yes. Superior chocolates.”

  “You must come by sometime and have some.”

  The smile widened. “Perhaps I shall do that.”

  Gia began to revise her opinion of Mr. Bahkti. He seemed to have gone from aloof to quite charming. Or was it simply an effect of her fourth glass of champagne? She tingled all over, felt almost giddy.

  “I heard about Grace,” Burkes said to Nellie. “If there’s anything I can do…”

  “We’re doing all we can,” Nellie said with a brave smile, “but mostly it comes down to waiting.”

  “Mr. Bahkti and I were just discussing a mutual acquaintance, Jack Jeffers.”

  “I believe his surname is Nelson,” the Indian said.

  “No, I’m sure it’s Jeffers. Isn’t it, Miss DiLauro? You know him best, I believe.”

  Gia wanted to laugh. How could she tell them Jack’s last name when she wasn’t sure herself.

  “Jack is Jack,” she said as tactfully as she could.

  “He is that!” Burkes said with a laugh. “He recently helped Mr. Bahkti with a difficult matter.”

  “Oh?” Gia said, trying not to sound arch. “A security matter?” That was how Jack was first introduced to her: a security consultant.

  “Personal,” the Indian said, and that was all.

  Gia wondered about that. What had the UK Mission used Jack for? And Mr. Bahkti, a UN diplomat—why would he need Jack? These were respectable members of the international diplomatic community. What could they want “fixed”? To her surprise, she detected an enormous amount of respect in their voices when they spoke of him. It baffled her.

  “But anyway,” Burkes said, “I was thinking perhaps he could be of use in finding your sister, Nellie.”

  Gia was looking at Mr. Bahkti as Burkes was speaking and she could have sworn she saw the Indian flinch. She did not have time to confirm the impression because she turned to give Nellie a quick warning look: They’d promised Jack no one would know he was working for her.

  “A marvelous idea, Eddie,” Nellie said, catching Gia’s glance and not missing a beat. “But I’m sure the police are doing all that can be done. However, if it—”

  “Well, speak of the devil!” Burkes said, interrupting her and staring toward the entrance.

  Before Gia turned to follow his gaze, she glanced again at Mr. Bahkti, who was already looking in the direction Burkes had indicated. On his dark face she saw a look of fury so deep, so fierce, that she stepped away from him for fear that he might explode. She searched the other end of the room to see what could cause such a reaction. And then she saw him … and her.

  Jack … dressed in an old-fashioned tuxedo with tails, white tie, and winged collar. He looked wonderful. Against her will, her heart leaped at the sight of him—That’s only because he’s a fellow American among all these foreigners—and then crashed. For on his arm was one of the most striking women Gia had ever seen.

  9

  Vicky was supposed to be asleep. It was way past her bedtime. She’d tried to push herself into slumber, but it just wouldn’t come. Too hot. She lay on top of the bedsheet to get cool. The air conditioning didn’t work so well up here on the third floor. Despite her favorite pink shorty pajamas, her dolls, and her new Rascal to keep her company, she still couldn’t sleep. Eunice had done all she could, from sliced oranges—Vicky loved oranges and couldn’t get enough of them—to reading her a story. Nothing worked. Finally, Vicky had faked sleep just so Eunice wouldn’t feel bad.

  Usually when she couldn’t sleep it was because she was worrying about Mommy. Sometimes when Mommy went out at night she had a bad feeling, a feeling that she’d never come back, that she’d been caught in an earthquake or a tornado or a car wreck. On those nights she’d pray and promise to be good forever if only Mommy got home safe. It hadn’t failed yet.

  But Vicky wasn’t worried tonight. Mommy was out with Aunt Nellie and Aunt Nellie would take care of her. Worry wasn’t keeping her awake.

  It was the chocolates.

  Vicky could not get those chocolates out of her mind. She’d never seen a box like that—black with gold trim and a big red rose on the top. All the way from England. And the name: Black Magic! The name alone was enough to keep her awake.

  She had to see them. It was as simple as that. She had to go down there and look in that box and see the “Dark Assortment” promised on the lid.

  With Ms. Jelliroll tucked securely under her arm, she crawled out of bed and headed for the stairs. Down to the second floor landing without a sound, and then down to the first. The slate floor of the foyer was cool under her feet. Down the hall came voices and music and flickery light from where Eunice was watching television in the library. Vicky tiptoed across the foyer to the front parlor where she’d seen Aunt Nellie put the box of chocolates.

  She found it sitting on an end table. The cellophane was off. Vicky placed Ms. Jelliroll on the little couch, seated herself beside her, then pulled the Black Magic box onto her lap. She started to lift the lid, then stopped.

  Mommy would have a fit if she came in now and found her sitting here. Bad enough that she was out of bed, but to have Aunt Nellie’s chocolates too!

  Vicky felt no guilt, however. In a way, this box should be hers, even if she was allergic to chocolate. It was from her father, after all. She’d hoped that when Mommy stopped home today she would find a package there just for her. But no. Nothing from Daddy.

  Vicky ran her fingers over the rose on the lid. Pretty. Why couldn’t this be hers? Maybe after Aunt Nellie finished the chocolates she’d let Vicky keep the box.

  How many are left?

  She lifted the lid. The rich, heavy smell of dark chocolate enveloped her, and with it the subtler odors of all the different fillings. And another smell, hiding just underneath the others, a smell she wasn’t quite sure of. But who cared? The chocolate overpowered everything else. Saliva poured into her mouth. She wanted one. Oh, how she wanted just one bite.

  She tilted the box to better see the contents in the light from the foyer. No empty slots! None of the chocolates was missing! At this rate it would take forever before she got the empty box. But then she forgot about the box. Chocolates … the chocolates …

  She picked up a piece from the middle, wondering what was inside. It was cool to the touch but within seconds the chocolate coating became soft.

  She held it to her nose. It didn’t smell quite so good up
close. Maybe it had something yucky inside, like raspberry goo or some such awful stuff. One bite wouldn’t hurt. Maybe just a nibble from the outer layer. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about what was inside. And maybe no one would notice.

  No.

  Vicky put the piece back. She remembered the last time she’d sneaked a nibble of chocolate—her face swelled up like a big red balloon and her eyelids got so puffy all the kids at school had said she looked Chinese. Maybe no one would notice the nibble she took, but Mommy would sure notice her blown-up face. She took one last, longing look at the rows of dark lumps, then replaced the lid and put the box back on the table.

  With Ms. Jelliroll under her arm again, she walked back to the bottom of the stairs and stood there looking up. Awfully dark up there. And she was scared. But she couldn’t stay down here all night. Slowly she started up, carefully watching the dark at the top. When she reached the second floor landing she clung to the newel post and peered around. Nothing moved. With her heart beating wildly she broke into a scampering run around to the second flight and didn’t slow until she’d reached the third floor, jumped into her bed, and pulled the sheet over her head.

  10

  “Working hard, I see.”

  Jack whirled at the sound of the voice, nearly spilling the two glasses of champagne he’d just lifted from the tray of a passing waiter.

  “Gia!” She was the last person he expected to see here. And the last person he wanted to see. He felt he should be out looking for Grace instead of hobnobbing with the diplomats. But he swallowed his guilt, smiled, and tried to say something brilliant. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “I’m here with Nellie.”

  “Oh. That explains it.”

  He stood there looking at her, wanting to reach out his hand and have her take it the way she used to, knowing she’d only turn away if he did. He noticed a half-empty champagne glass in her hand and a glittery look in her eyes. He wondered how many she’d had. She’d never been much of a drinker.

  “So, what’ve you been doing with yourself?” she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

  Yes—definitely too much to drink. Her voice was slightly slurred.

  “Shoot anybody lately?”

  Oh, swell. Here we go.

  He tried a soothing tone. He wasn’t looking for an argument. “Reading, trying a few videogames—”

  “Which ones? Hitman? Grand Theft Auto?”

  “—and watching movies.”

  “A Dirty Harry Festival, I suppose.”

  “You look great,” he said, refusing to let her irk him as he tried to turn the talk toward Gia. He wasn’t lying. She filled her black dress nicely. It made her blond hair and blue eyes seem to glow.

  “You’re not doing so bad yourself.”

  “It’s my Fred Astaire suit. Always wanted to wear one of these. Like it?”

  Gia nodded. “Is it as uncomfortable as it looks?”

  “More so. Don’t know how anyone ever tap-danced in one of these. Collar’s choking me.”

  “It’s not your style, anyway.”

  “You’re right.” Jack preferred to be unobtrusive. He was happiest when he could walk past with no one noticing. “But something got into me tonight. Couldn’t pass up the chance to be Fred Astaire just once.”

  “You don’t dance and your date will never be mistaken for Ginger Rogers.”

  “I can dream, can’t I?”

  “Who is she?”

  Jack studied Gia closely. Could there be just a trace of jealousy there? Was that possible?

  “She’s…” He looked around the room until he spotted Kusum … “that man’s sister.”

  “Is she the ‘personal matter’ you helped him with?”

  “Oh?” he said with a slow smile. “You’ve been asking about me?”

  Gia’s eyes shifted away. “Burkes brought your name up. Not me.”

  “You know something, Gia?” Jack said, knowing he shouldn’t but helpless to resist. “You’re beautiful when you’re jealous.”

  Her eyes flashed and her cheeks turned red. “Don’t be absurd!”

  She turned and walked away.

  Typical, Jack thought. She wanted nothing to do with him but didn’t want to see him with anybody else.

  He looked around for Kolabati—not a typical woman by any standard—and found her standing beside her brother who seemed to be doing his best to pretend she wasn’t there. As he walked toward the silent pair, Jack marveled at the way Kolabati’s dress clung to her. The gauzy, dazzlingly white fabric snaked across her right shoulder and wrapped itself around her breasts like a bandage. Her left shoulder was completely bare, exposing her dark, flawless skin for all to admire. And there were many admirers.

  “Hello, Mr. Bahkti,” he said as he handed Kolabati her glass.

  Kusum glanced at the champagne, at Kolabati, then turned an icy smile at Jack.

  “May I compliment you on the decadence of your attire.”

  “Thank you. I knew it wasn’t stylish, but I’ll settle for decadent. How’s your grandmother?”

  “Physically well, but suffering from a mental aberration, I fear.”

  “She’s doing fine,” Kolabati said with a scathing look at her brother. “I have the latest word and she’s doing just fine.” Then she smiled sweetly. “Oh, by the way, Kusum dear. Jack was asking about durba grass today. Anything you can tell him about it?”

  Jack saw Kusum stiffen. He knew Kolabati had been startled when he’d asked her about it on the phone today. What did durba grass mean to these two?

  Still smiling, Kolabati sauntered away as Kusum faced him.

  “What did you wish to know?”

  “Nothing in particular. Except … is it ever used as a laxative?”

  Kusum’s face remained impassive. “It has many uses, but I have never heard it recommended for constipation. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. An old lady I know said she was using a concoction with a durba grass extract in it.”

  “I’m surprised. I didn’t think you could find durba grass in the Americas. Where did she buy it?”

  Jack was studying Kusum’s face. Something there … something he couldn’t quite define.

  “Don’t know. She’s away on a trip right now. When she comes back I’ll ask her.”

  “Throw it away if you have any, my friend,” Kusum said gravely. “Certain durba grass preparations have undesirable side effects. Throw it away.” Before Jack could say anything, Kusum gave one of his little bows. “Excuse me. There are some people I must speak to before the night is over.”

  Undesirable side effects? What the hell did that mean?

  Jack wandered around the room. He spotted Gia again but she avoided his eyes. Finally, the inevitable happened: He ran into Nellie Paton. He saw the pain behind her smile and suddenly felt absurd in his old-fashioned tuxedo. This woman had asked him to help find her missing sister and here he was dressed up like a gigolo.

  “Gia tells me you’re getting nowhere,” she said in a low voice after brief amenities.

  “I’m trying. If only I had more to go on. I’m doing what I—”

  “I know you are, dear,” Nellie said, patting his hand. “You were fair. You made no promises, and you warned me you might not be able to do any more than the police had already done. All I need to know is that someone is still looking.”

  “I am.” He spread his arms. “I may not look like it, but I am.”

  “Oh, rubbish!” she said with a smile. “Everyone needs a holiday. And you certainly seem to have a beautiful companion for it.”

  Jack turned in the direction Nellie was looking and saw Kolabati approaching them. He introduced the two women.

  “Oh, I met your brother tonight!” Nellie said. “A charming man.”

  “When he wants to be, yes,” Kolabati replied. “By the way—has either of you seen him lately?”

  Nellie nodded. “I saw him leave perhaps ten minutes ago.”

>   Kolabati said a word under her breath. Jack didn’t know Indian, but he could recognize a curse when he heard one.

  “Something wrong?”

  She smiled at him with her lips only. “Not at all. I just wanted to ask him something before he left.”

  “Speaking of leaving,” Nellie said. “I think that’s a good idea. Excuse me while I go find Gia.” She bustled off.

  Jack looked at Kolabati. “Not a bad idea. Had enough of the diplomatic crowd for one night?”

  “For more than one night?”

  “Where shall we go?”

  “How about your apartment? Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

  Jack could not think of one.

  11

  Kolabati had spent most of the evening cudgeling her brain for a way to broach the subject to Jack. She had to find out about the durba grass. Where did he learn about it? Did he have any? She had to know.

  She settled on the direct approach. As soon as they entered his apartment, she asked:

  “Where’s the durba grass?”

  “Don’t have any,” Jack said as he took off his tailed coat and hung it on a hanger.

  Kolabati glanced around the front room. She didn’t see any growing in pots. “You must.”

  “Really, I don’t”

  “Then why did you ask me about it on the phone today?”

  “I told you—”

  “Truth, Jack.” She could tell it was going to be hard getting a straight answer out of him. But she had to know. “Please. It’s important.”

  Jack made her wait while he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the winged collar. He seemed glad to be out of it. He looked into her eyes. For a moment she thought he was going to tell her the truth. Instead, he answered her question with one of his own.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Just tell me, Jack.”

  “Why is it so important?”

  She bit her lip. She had to tell him something. “Prepared in certain ways it can be … dangerous.”

  “Dangerous how?”

  “Please, Jack. Just let me see what you’ve got and I’ll tell you if there’s anything to worry about.”