“It looks as though your instincts were correct. The three of them were already preparing to leave. I gave your order and they are on their way there now. I do not expect to hear anything before,” Joe looked at his watch, “sixteen hundred hours. Possibly much later, depending on what they come up against.”
“The three of who are on their way where?” Alex asked as he stood and took a step towards the rear of the vehicle.
“I would prefer it if you remained seated.”
“Of course, Doctor, but why?” Alex asked as he sat back down.
“Because the chairs not only isolate you from the movement of the vehicle, they stop any ancient from knowing that you are coming.”
“So, you think we are about to meet our first English ancients?”
“No, Alex, I do not think that. But, if we are unfortunate enough to do so, I most certainly do not want them to be warned of our arrival. What is it that I have taught you?”
Alex looked to Emmy for help, and she obliged. “Anything, however small, we can do to give ourselves an edge against ancients, we must do.”
“Exactly, my dear. Now, sit back and enjoy the journey.”
Alex tried a few more times to find out who the three were and where they were going, to no avail.
Chapter 4
-
The Meeting Place
It was just after two in the afternoon as they pulled up outside an old English tea shop. So old that Alex considered it would fit nicely into a work by Dickens. The Old Curiosity Shop perhaps. The writing across the fascia read, in very large letters, The Meeting Place. Beneath this, though in much smaller letters, Alex read, No Meat, No Plaice, in fact No fish of any kind, just good vegetarian food freshly prepared. The large bow windows either side of a recessed door should have made it easy to see inside, and they would have done so, if they had not been made up from such small panes of glass, some of which resembled the bottoms of old bottles. The tea shop looked really, really old, though it was in very good decorative order.
From their mostly long and boring lessons with Dr Margretti, both Alex and Emmy knew this to be one of six such places dotted around the country. The floor in each was exactly two centimetres above ancient ground level. This allowed for easy recognition of who was, and who was not, an ancient, while allowing them to mix together in order to resolve their differences. Once inside and with a large pot of tea, freshly baked scones, homemade raspberry jam and large scoops of clotted cream in front of them, they started to discuss the events of the day.
Alex had been surprised to find that the tearoom was not only L-shaped, and therefore much larger than he had expected it to be, but that it was also devoid of customers. Dr Margretti had immediately sat at the corner table by the window. This offered them the clearest view of the room in both directions. He had also been surprised to read a quote, supposedly by Albert Einstein, proclaiming the benefits to the world of a vegetarian lifestyle.
“Nothing will benefit human health
and increase the chances for survival of life on Earth
as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet.”
Alex could not believe Einstein would have ever said anything remotely like that, but as if to remove any doubt as to which Albert Einstein uttered those words, there was a picture of the immediately recognisable German-born physicist on the wall beside it.
The conversation was only interrupted by the occasional opening of the door. Immediately Alex and Emmy looked to the feet of anyone stepping in, though they were not alone, as all eyes went to the floor. The feet of any ancient would be slightly beneath the traditional red quarry tiles allowing easy recognition. A record of their name and reason for their visit would be taken. The postman, a delivery of milk, and the reading of the electric meter, were all by who they purported to be, as their feet rested firmly upon the tiles.
Alex was already feeling much more alive. His brain had been spinning since earlier in the day. This started after he had walked down the stairs to the basement of the cottage. Apparently this was where Babs had fallen and broken her neck. The problem which faced Alex was that he was unable to see how anybody could fall with enough momentum to kill themselves, even if they had wanted to. In a desperate final attempt to prove to Emmy that if it was not ancients, then foul play must be the cause, he had thrown himself down the stairs. Emmy had screamed, but his actions had had the desired effect, as now she also believed there was something very suspicious with the death of Babs.
There were so few stairs, and what there were doubled back on themselves. Two handrails, firmly fixed and a great shape to hold onto, were attached to the walls either side of the narrow steps. These were so narrow that nobody could fall freely. Even when Alex had thrown himself down the stairs for the second time, the handrails had proved to be far too easy to grab onto. The most conclusive evidence had occurred on Alex’s third attempt to replicate his mother’s fall. That time he had made no attempt to grab hold of the handrails. There were not enough stairs or enough room in order to gain the momentum needed to cause a fatality.
Neither Dr Margretti nor Joe had left the lorry. Having clipped small cameras onto both Alex and Emmy, no explanations had been needed upon their return.
The little bell which hung from the ceiling tinkled as the door touched it. The old gentleman who entered The Meeting Place turned away from them. He sat at a table, by the window, on the far side of the room. He was obviously a regular, because the waiter took over a pot of tea and a piece of Victoria sponge without any order being taken.
Alex was becoming irritated by the way the conversation was going. “Look … we need to stop beating around the bush and admit to ourselves that Babs was murdered and—”
“Do keep your voice down,” Joe said quietly though firmly.
The waiter, who appeared to be vaguely familiar to Alex, stopped by their table. “Don’t worry about old Fred over there, he is as deaf as a post.” he said to the table in general before turning to look at Dr Margretti. “Long time since we have seen you here, Doctor. I hope this does not mean trouble, rather than tea, is brewing?” He laughed at his own joke, and just as with Dr Margretti, his shoulders moved a little too much as he laughed.
Alex thought the waiter looked a little too everything to be a waiter. Too intelligent, too well-spoken, clothes which were far too expensive, he was also far too confident and far too good-looking. Alex peered at the waiter’s shoes and they were standing upon the tiles, so he could not be an ancient. It was as the waiter’s conversation with Dr Margretti came to an end, as he turned to walk away, that Alex saw his shoes had a built up sole, he was an ancient.
Again the bell tinkled, though this time Alex was far too engrossed in watching the waiter walk back to the kitchen to look away. It was a good job he did not, for he was the only one to see two spinning axes fly through the air. The first travelled away from them, deeply embedding itself between the shoulder blades of the waiter, who fell to the floor without either a murmur or any sign blood. Alex pushed the table away from him with all of his might. The afternoon tea went sprawling and so did Dr Margretti and Joe. His actions allowed the second axe to fly harmlessly over them, though it took out a large section of the tearoom window before finally embedding itself in the front tyre of their delivery lorry.
Joe grabbed the shoulders of a somewhat shocked Dr Margretti. Lifting him from a kneeling position, Joe took him through the broken window, making the already large hole even larger, and bundled him into the back of the lorry for safety.
Alex watched a wild man come through the wall and run straight for him, arms outstretched and hands ready to break his neck. He looked like an ancient Briton.
Emmy moved quickly and jumped over the upturned table. As her feet hit the ground she grabbed the nearest thing to her and threw it. The modern china teapot went straight through their attacker and smashed on the wall behind. Alex, at the very last second, in a trick he had learned from his friend Cairo, dived between the legs of the ancient B
riton before running over to the waiter. He ripped the axe from his body and stood there wielding it in as menacing a way as possible. Ancient axe could kill ancient person, and their attacker, who had turned to face Alex, realised this.
Alex could see the complete thought process. At first the ancient had wanted to kill Alex, but the axe Alex was holding had stopped him in his tracks. He was now wondering if he could get to Emmy or if he should just run. He wavered left, and then right, in indecision, before his eyes opened unnaturally wide, his arms went up into the air, and he fell forward to the ground. Alex saw Joe standing outside and the axe, which had been embedded in the front tyre, was now embedded in the back of the ancient Briton.
Emmy righted the table, put the chairs back into position and picked up anything which was not broken. Alex decided to relax with the axe, but he was not going to put it down just yet, so he held it to his side. Joe came back in through the door, which caused Alex to chuckle, as the hole in the window was both larger and easier to get through. The door jammed on the broken pieces of crockery which were strewn across the floor. Emmy kicked them to one side, so Joe did eventually make it back in.
The waiter pushed himself up and stood with some difficulty. He was in great pain, though he was infinitely more worried about how difficult it would be to obtain a replacement jacket. He went over to old Fred and shouted his apologies for the disturbance.
“Nothing to apologise for, Son.” Fred called everybody son. “It brought back great memories of when I was a Rocker. You should have seen that café in Clacton in 1964. When we had finished with those Mods there was not a Mod or an item of furniture left in one piece. Great days, oh yes, those were great days.” He left with such a spring in his step that he barely needed his walking stick.
Chapter 5
-
Ancient Briton?
Dr Margretti emerged from the lorry. “My, my, we do have a bit of a mess here. It tends to add weight to the theory that Babs …” He abruptly stopped in mid-sentence, his face contorted as he pointed to the ancient Briton and shouted, “Joe, stop him!”
Everybody turned to look at the body on the floor as all eyes had been on Dr Margretti. It faded to a shimmer and then disappeared before their eyes.
“Disappointing … very disappointing,” Dr Margretti said as he stepped back into the tea room via the hole in the window, “though at least it proves he was no ancient Briton. Joe, I think it best if you call them back as we have our answer here.” Joe stepped outside, choosing not to battle with the door this time, and as he did, Dr Margretti called after him. “After that call, get ART [Ancients Repair Team] here as quickly as you can.”
Alex expected a rebuke from Dr Margretti for not thinking things through, but he had to ask, “How do we know he was not an ancient Briton, call who back, and what answer do we have here?”
“My, my so many questions. Do you remember what I told you about ancient Britons being mindless thugs?”
“I remember what you told us about ancient Britons,” Emmy said cheerily. “To this day, their decedents mass at football matches. They are the ones who always cause all the trouble on the terraces. The ancients themselves have to walk on ancient ground, so they can be found causing the trouble away from the stadium.”
“Correct, though that might be something which is better kept to yourself, young lady. The English are particularly fond of that game, though, for the life of me, I have no idea why. Now, let us get back to ancient Britons. Even if there was no chance of winning a fight, they would keep fighting. They were fearless, not because they were great warriors, but because their brains were not wired to process fear. In fact, their brains were not wired for much at all. This country would still be in the dark ages if the Germanic tribes had not arrived, but that is another story altogether. This assassin,” Dr Margretti pointed to an empty space on the floor where the body had been, “would rather kill himself, remove both himself and his family from the afterlife, than be interrogated. This act alone would have required far too many thought processes for him to have been an ancient Briton.” Dr Margretti paused, in the hope that either Alex or Emmy would work out what had just happened. They did not.
Joe came back in the same way he had left, through the broken window. He stepped to the door, turned the sign to closed, then sat down just as the waiter brought freshly brewed tea to their table. Rather than walking back to the kitchen, he pulled a chair over and sat down. He did not look good, though he looked considerably better than most would after suffering such a brutal axe attack.
“Don’t get me wrong,” the waiter said to Dr Margretti, “it is always great to see you, but, the next time you decide to pay us a visit, please let me know the day before. That way I could take the day off, go sick, or preferably leave the country!”
“Pay no attention to him,” Dr Margretti said while giving a dismissive flick of the hand. “Now, what do you think just occurred here?” he asked as he looked at Alex and then Emmy.
“I think,” said Alex, who had no idea what he thought. His thought processes were at a complete halt. He looked to Emmy for a response.
“You can only be removed from the afterlife,” she said with confidence, “if every instance of your name is removed. That ancient Briton, or whoever he was, must have somehow destroyed the last instance of his name.”
“Exactly … well done my dear. This is how I know that he was an assassin. They only ever have one piece of papyrus with their name on it. When they dissolve this in their mouth, their name disappears, and so do they.”
“Like a cyanide pill.”
“In some ways, my dear, yes. I saw his hand go to his mouth, but by then it was too late to be able to stop the inevitable.”
“So,” Alex said after a flash of inspiration, “he was the person who killed Babs.”
“Please justify that statement.”
“Happy to, Doctor.” Alex was suddenly full of confidence. “If there was more than one ancient trying to kill us, then with the four of us here, more ancients would have attacked us. He would never have taken the risk of defeat if he was part of a group. No … this ancient was working alone. Obviously he thought that with us all feeling relaxed he was good enough to take us out. Probably he had dealt with three, four or five people on his own before, possibly more. Whatever he had done in the past, this ancient felt confident, wrongly as it turned out, that with the element of surprise, he could finish what he had been sent to do. He dressed as an ancient Briton, so we would not know who he was working for. And it worked, because, apart from knowing that he was not an ancient Briton, we have no idea who he was or who sent him.”
“No idea, hmm. That may not be quite correct, but I will address that subject later,” said the Doctor as he rubbed his chin. “I do believe, after the rather over eager demonstration you gave earlier today, that your non-blood mother … sorry, that sounded rather clumsy … that Babs was killed by an ancient. Though I must admit to not understanding why. She vehemently denied the existence of ancients, so as such, I fail to see how she could pose a threat to any ancient.” He turned to Joe, “Did you manage to contact them?”
“Sorry, no. Wherever they are, he either has his phone turned off, or much more likely, there is no signal.”
Dr Margretti nodded slowly as he considered all the options.
“I have got to go to Egypt,” Alex blurted out as he stood and attempted to leave.
“Sit down,” Joe said firmly though kindly as he stood in order to block Alex’s exit.
“I agree, you do have to go to Egypt, but we can get you to the airport quicker than you can get there.”
“No, Doctor, not with that flat tyre you can’t.” Alex did a double take. The tyre was fully inflated. “But I never saw your driver leave the cab.”
“You did not, because he did not. In fact, he cannot, as he is just there for show.” The Doctor gestured for Alex to sit down.
Joe placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder and guided him back to hi
s chair whist he enlightened him. “All our vehicles are driverless. Not today, of course, but usually whoever attacks us goes for the driver. Not having a flesh and blood driver takes that worry away.”
“So I did see his eyes turn yellow.”
“Yes, it is the one thing that can give him away. His eyes are nothing more than biometric scanners.”
“All very interesting, Joe, but I would like to know more from this young man here. Tell me, Alex, why are you suddenly in such a rush to get to Egypt?”
“Tell me who the three are and where they are going, then I will tell you.”
“Hmm … oh well … I will, though only after you tell me first.”
“You promise to tell me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then. I know why Babs was murdered. It is because they needed to change Quentin’s plans.”
“Interesting thought.” Dr Margretti glanced towards Joe and they shared a nod of agreement.
“I know dad is going to collect an award in Cairo. Afterwards he was going to go down to the dig in Luxor. That is where, I believe, for whatever reason, they do not want him. Whoever sent the assassin does not want him there. If Babs or I died, they expected dad to cancel his flight. That shows just how little they know him. Egypt is the most important thing in his life. That is why I need to be in Egypt. Now he is there, there will be an attempt to kill him, and it will probably succeed. You know how much he hates personal security. He will never accept it.”
Dr Margretti and Joe were both nodding slightly as the Doctor assured Alex of Quentin’s acceptance of the security he had sent to protect him.
“No way. He will give them the slip at the first opportunity.”
“Of that, my boy, you are most definitely wrong.”
“I am not. I know my dad better than you, he will give them the slip. He is happy to have security on his finds, but not on him.” Alex looked really annoyed.
Gold of the Ancients Page 3