Eagle of Darkness

  "Tonight."

  "It's up to you. You're the one with the key to the front door. But the first thing I'm going to do is get up through the hatch in your bathroom and see if anyone's been mucking around. Give me a hand up."

  Five minutes later he looked down at Panya through the open trapdoor. "Someone's definitely been up here."

  "A Peeping Tom?"

  He dropped the flashlight to Panya and lowered himself onto the bathroom stool, his arm and chest muscles taking the weight. "Someone's drilled a small hole though the hatch. It's recent. The wood around the hole smells fresh."

  Panya pulled the blind on the frosted window. "Would he have been able to see me in the bath?"

  Sam shrugged. "I shouldn't think so." Would Panya believe him? The hatch was directly over it. "Anyway, it might not have been Dr. Wynne. What about the Second Partner?"

  "Denby Rawlins? It doesn't make much difference, does it? They're both dirty old men. How did they get up there without me knowing? I mean, look at all the bits that fell down when you got up."

  "This isn't the only hatch," he said. "I found another over in the far corner. Who uses that room?"

  "No one. It's a store room."

  "So someone waited until you were over at the Institute, got up through the hatch in the store room and drilled a hole over your bath."

  "What about the sawdust from the drill?"

  "He probably let himself in through your front door and swept up the dust. Which one of the old men is on drugs?"

  "Drugs? Like hard drugs, you mean?"

  He stood on the stool, feeling cautiously around the edge of the hatchway. "This syringe was up there. It's not been there long. There's no dust on it."

  "It's horrible." Panya took the syringe and dropped it into the bathroom bin. "Put the hatch back."

  "We'll have to contact the police. One of those two men needs locking up."

  Panya shook her head. "I don't want my cover blown." She shuddered. "It makes me feel dirty for every bath I've taken. I knew something was wrong when I heard the noises."

  "I'm going round to wring their bloody little necks!"

  "Don't do anything hasty, Sam." Panya held his arm. "There's someone else it might be. Just lately the Third Partner, Andy Olsen, he's been acting strangely. He keeps looking at me, if you know what I mean. Only it doesn't seem so bad, because he's our age."

  "Do you only hear noises up there at night?"

  "That's when I usually bath. Just before going to bed."

  "Let's go over to the house now and see if we can find Andy Olsen's file in that filing cabinet."

  "I'll take the flashlight. Do we need anything else?"

  "A big screwdriver should do it."

  Panya produced three from the drawer in the hall table. "Take your pick."

  He selected the largest. It looked the least likely to bend. "Right, let's get over there. Tomorrow night you can turn on the bathroom light and run the water. I'm going to catch the rancid rat red handed."

  Chapter 27

  Institute of Egyptologists, England

  SAM WATCHED Panya open the front door of the Institute without hesitating. She could certainly keep her cool under stress. Mr. Pulaski had got himself one hell of a fine wife the day he got married. Losing a husband and being forced to submit to multiple rape would have finished many women. Just surviving would have been enough to earn respect, but to come back to face more danger by volunteering to be an insider at the Institute showed courage that left him almost bewildered.

  This time the hall was empty.

  "There's someone in the computer room." Panya held his arm, preventing him from going forward.

  "Perhaps they've just left the lights on."

  She shook her head. "They never do. The office is down this way. Keep close."

  He needed no encouragement. Panya seemed fearless. He wouldn't dare confess his own feelings right now. "I can hear someone moving," he whispered.

  "It's probably Andy Olsen trying to sort out the computer system. Right, here's Dr. Wynne's office." She shut the door and switched on her flashlight. "This is the filing cabinet. Any ideas?"

  He heaved the cabinet away from the wall. It was old, and probably ex-MoD: the sort he'd often seen in use on small airfields. The plywood backs were never intended for the storage of sensitive material. He used the screwdriver to lever the back away, starting at the top. Then he reached into the gap with the blade to find the locking rod. "This should do it." There was a click as the top drawer moved forward a couple of inches. He came round and pulled it fully open. "How's that?"

  Panya flicked through the separate sections and pulled out a folder. "We'll have to get this back before morning."

  He felt they'd been here long enough. "Okay, let's move." They were in the hallway when Sam stopped. "Someone's coming out of the computer room. We'd better hide."

  "Quickly, into the Hall of Aten," whispered Panya.

  As Panya pushed him into the huge room, Sam looked up at the red laser. The starlight projected onto the walls showed the large Egyptian relief. "What is this place, a chapel or something?"

  "They don't worship here. Not like in a church. They study Aten, the Sun god, but..." Panya pulled him back into the cover of the curtains. "You'd better take this." She passed over Olsen's file as the footsteps from the computer room got closer. "Climb out through the window if I get caught. I can always think of some explanation for being here."

  A small man in his late twenties came into the room and stood below the Egyptian relief. He sank to his knees on the spot where the laser beam scattered off the polished wooden blocks. "Hail to you, Aten of daytime, creator of all, who makes all things alive," he said quietly in a slow monotone. From his pocket he produced a roll of cloth.

  "It's Andy Olsen," Panya whispered in his Sam's ear. "That's the hymn of Aten I was telling you about."

  Sam knew what to expect. The roll of cloth would contain a syringe and drugs. The man was a bloody junkie. With shaking hands he spread it out in the red light beam from the laser.

  "O Aten, disc of the sun, you want my life, so take it now." The man raised the syringe as though to plunge it into his arm.

  Panya broke from Sam's grip. "No, Andy, don't kill yourself."

  Olsen looked up in surprise, the raised syringe in his right hand, his left arm bared with the cloth clenched tightly in his fist. "Mrs. Pulaski, what are you doing here?" He jumped to his feet as though to attack Panya with the sharp needle.

  Sam was ready to go forward to give protection, but Olsen dropped the syringe and started to shake. "Why have you come?"

  Panya bent down and picked the syringe from the floor. Sam watched her turn his way, shaking her head as she looked at him. It seemed she wanted him to stay out of sight. Perhaps she was worried about the file being seen. "You need help, Andy," she said.

  Andy Olsen stood up and embraced her in a bear hug. He began to sob. "You don't understand. I came here to work for Endermann, and I've lied to everyone. Aten wants truth, and I've given him deception. Give me back my needle." He continued to shake. "I have to atone for the great deception."

  Sam felt concerned for Panya and he moved forward. "My name's Sam Bolt. Mrs. Pulaski is here with me."

  The eyes stared as Olsen released his hold. "I've crashed the computers." His voice sounded remote. "There is no prophecy."

  A light came on in the hallway, its yellow light flooding through the doorway into the Hall of Aten, contrasting dramatically with the reflection from the red laser. Sam moved swiftly back behind the long curtains.

  "What are you doing here, Third Partner?" Gresley Wynne stood in the doorway peering into the darkness. He switched on the overhead lights and the sudden brightness made Olsen cry out with pain.

  Panya sounded astonishingly self-assured. "It's Andy Olsen, Dr. Wynne," she said. The syringe and roll of cloth lay beside the man who now crouched with his hands on his head, emitting a low moan. "You'd better call an ambulance."


  "That man is our most trusted technical expert. Drugs at the Institute!" Gresley Wynne sounded horrified. "How can I face the publicity?"

  "You have no choice." Panya said firmly.

  Gresley Wynne sounded flustered. "The Third Partner has his own doctor. Please get his personal records from my office while I go and wake Denby Rawlins. You will find the key to the filing cabinet on this ring."

  Sam stayed out of sight until Dr. Wynne had gone.

  "You've got his records, Sam." Panya took the file from him and began to sort through it. "You'd better go," she said. "Through the window."

  *

  The Lodge, Institute of Egyptologists, England

  "ANDY OLSEN might as well not have existed before he came here. He spent a couple of years in America studying computer programming, and that's all I could find about him in the file. I had to leave everything with Dr. Wynne."

  "Then we wasted our time."

  "We rescued Andy Olsen," Panya said with a slight smile. "Who's this Endermann he mentioned?"

  "Dr. Wynne came too soon," said Sam. "But it's strange Dr. Wynne never asked what you were doing in the Hall of Aten." He looked out of the Lodge window into the night. "I suppose he was too worried about Olsen to notice."

  "That doctor was odd." Panya picked up their mugs and took them to the sink. "He seemed more interested in taking Andy Olsen away than in trying to treat him."

  "The whole thing was odd," said Sam. "Flash car for a local doctor. Anyway, it's time we got some sleep. Look, I'll sleep on the sofa if you've got any blankets."

  "That's exactly what I had in mind," said Panya gently. "I have plenty of blankets. My brother comes down to stay occasionally. I have to get permission from Dr. Wynne, but he allows it for family."

  Sam stared. "I never thought about you having a family."

  Panya laughed. "I suppose you're so naive you thought I was found under a gooseberry bush."

  "I like you, Panya." It wasn't much, but it was all he could think to say.

  Chapter 28

  Cheltenham, England

  ENDERMANN stood at the end of Spaxley's hotel bed. "Sorry to wake you, Admiral, but I've just got back from London."

  "This had better be good," growled Spaxley. The green digits on the bedside clock said six twenty-seven. It was pitch dark outside.

  "Dr. Wynne rang me from the Institute last night. God knows what Olsen's been doing to himself. I had him picked up and taken straight to London."

  "And he's out of harm's way?"

  "He was suffering from an attack of conscience. Probably why he put the monkey wrench in the computer program."

  Spaxley felt a little more awake now. "Why are you telling me this?"

  "I want you down at the Institute this morning."

  "I thought I had to brief the press in London. And you're supposed to be with Ahmed in Cairo."

  "A slight change of plan. I'm seeing the press in London. You have to see Dr. Wynne this morning and persuade him to release the prophecy immediately, before the service at the Cairo mosque."

  "What do I tell him?"

  "Tell him you're Olsen's closest friend. Tell him Olsen's a genius, and the work drove him to drugs. That way Dr. Wynne will still have faith in Olsen's earlier work, and not worry too much about the last few days."

  "It will mean thinking on my feet," said Spaxley, "but I can do it okay." He felt angry that Endermann would be seeing the journalists in London, but he knew he was too scared to object. Endermann had a way about him that put fear into everyone he met.

  "But don't let them try and visit Olsen."

  Spaxley looked up sharply. "Why not?"

  "He's being buried on Wednesday."

  "He's dead?"

  Endermann shrugged. "Private arrangements always come with a medical care package."

  Chapter 29

  Institute of Egyptologists, England

  SPAXLEY sat for a moment, looking from his rental car through the large entrance gates at the center of prophecy. Making the appointment had been straightforward. He was still Mr. Grant. Mr. S. Grant, visiting England, and suddenly deciding to look up an old friend called Andy Olsen. Dr. Wynne had sounded extremely anxious for news of Olsen. He pressed gently on the gas pedal and the Ford moved into the drive.

  This was a large house, though not old enough to be a genuine country manor. The exterior, rendered with dark gray cement, looked unpleasantly dirty. On the side wall a large creeper clung to the gloomy surface, its leafless limbs looking like charred bones. Perhaps in the greener season it would carry flowers and disguise the depressing walls. Early twentieth century. Edwardian, the English called the period. This would have been a residence of the English upper classes in the past. No, not the upper classes. It would have been the home of what the English snobbishly referred to as the nouveaux riches. Spaxley switched off the engine and stepped onto the yellow gravel. Dr. Wynne was probably as disagreeable as the house he occupied.

  "Yes, Dr. Wynne is expecting you, Mr. Grant." The woman who opened the door gave him a smile that instantly made him feel welcome. The English could normally only manage a cold reception, but this dark-skinned woman sounded American, and friendly.

  "And who are you, young lady?"

  "I'm Mrs. Pulaski."

  "Mrs. Pulaski? Don't you have another name?"

  "Panya Pulaski, Mr. Grant. Come this way please."

  "Sure thing, Panya. This is a great house you've got here." The door to a large room was partly open and Spaxley was unable to resist peeping in. "Is this your chapel or something?"

  "It's the Egyptian room, Mr. Grant."

  "We call it the Hall of Aten," said a man from the large staircase. "I'm Dr. Wynne. Thank you, Mrs. Pulaski, I will take the visitor to my office."

  Spaxley winked at Panya Pulaski who seemed to be showing no signs of leaving them. "Bit of an old sour puss in the morning, your chief."

  He continued uninvited into the large room which was filled with Egyptian murals. "This is some great place. Too bad about Andy Olsen's tragic breakdown."

  Gresley Wynne made a clear signal with his hand that Panya Pulaski should leave them alone. "Tell me, Mr. Grant, how do you know Andy Olsen?"

  "I'm sorry, Gresley. You are Gresley Wynne I take it? Right. Andy's a close friend of mine. I've been talking to him at the hospital this morning. He's asked me to give you a message. Verbal, of course." Spaxley glanced at Panya. "It would be a pleasure if your secretary stayed, Gresley."

  Dr. Wynne made no further comment and Panya followed behind as they walked to the office.

  Spaxley felt obliged to put his arm on Gresley Wynne's shoulder, even though the man's suit looked sickeningly dirty. "Andy's already aware of the big mistake he's made, and he sure is sorry."

  "Perhaps you can tell me exactly what sort of mistake he is talking about, Mr. Grant. Andy Olsen has been engaged on important work here at the Institute."

  "Sure, I know something about it, Gresley. A new prophecy of some terrible events in the Middle East, starting in Cairo."

  Dr. Wynne seemed surprised. "But it was highly confidential. We still haven't gone public with this one."

  He thought quickly. "Confidential, absolutely, which is why I don't know any details. I can assure you Andy's been discretion itself. All I know is he's working on some kind of prediction, and he seems to think he's accidentally released some kinda bug into the computers."

  "It would appear that way." Dr. Wynne shook his head and sighed. "The whole system has crashed."

  "Gresley, I'm sure you know that Andy found the work here an enormous strain. But I have his word he was only taking drugs for a few days. That's the opinion of the staff at the private clinic as well."

  "Then you think we can rely on all his workings, Mr. Grant?"

  "Sure, sure. Andy wants you to go ahead and call a press briefing immediately. He wants to assure you that all his work is valid."

  "Is the clinic close? I'd like to see him."

&nbs
p; "I'll fix it, Gresley. Soon. In the meantime I think you should go public immediately. Andy has put his whole reputation behind the predictions."

  Gresley Wynne stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. "Aten speaks."

  "Yes, sure." Spaxley let the old fellow have his minute of silence. He thought of Kramer on the riverbank in Virginia. It needed skill and patience to land a big one. "I could help," he said at last, judging the moment.

  "You can mend our computers, Mr. Grant?"

  Spaxley laughed. "I don't think it's your computers that need fixing. You need someone to handle the press. They'll not give you an easy ride over this."

  Gresley Wynne turned. "You may get me us coffee, Mrs. Pulaski. Or perhaps Mr. Grant would prefer tea."

  "If we're talking business, I could do with a coffee, Gresley." He winked at Panya. "Thanks, ma'am, coffee will be fine." This young woman was attractive in an unsophisticated sort of way. As soon as she left, Spaxley turned to Dr. Wynne. "We could work together, Gresley."

  The offer was a mistake, he could see that immediately.

  "I'll show you round, Mr. Grant." The reply sounded cold and formal. "The computer room is out of bounds, but a closer look at the Hall of Aten may interest you. Come this way, please."

  The woman wasted no time in coming back. "I'll be serving the coffee in your office, Dr. Wynne." She gave a pleasant, almost seductive smile as they returned to the office after examining the huge mural.

  Spaxley sipped his coffee, deciding to try another approach at getting his way into the group. "Andy Olsen says that the world must be warned about something he discovered in the codes last night. I've got it written down." He pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket. "The establishment will tremble from the depths, and the followers of the One God will be confounded, and their enemies will mock their destruction in the fallen house." He shrugged his shoulders. "Means nothing to me, of course, but Andy wanted me to pass it on. Something about Cairo, and it seems to be bothering him."

  "We already have those words in our computer printout, but they mean very little to us." Gresley Wynne frowned. "Did he say how soon this will be?" He turned round to the woman who was sitting quietly. "I think you'd better get on with your duties now, Mrs. Pulaski."

  "No, I think your secretary ought to stay, Gresley. We might need someone to take notes."