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  The Eleventh Plague

  ( Cornelius Quaint - 2 )

  Darren Craske

  Darren Craske

  The Eleventh Plague

  CHAPTER I

  The Eager Pupil

  FANTOMA, EGYPT, 1853

  'IS IT TRUE, teacher? Is Antoine Renard dead?' The young woman stormed into the cavernous chamber. The meeting room was almost pitch-black save for a row of torches affixed to a far wall, and their flames snapped at her as she walked past.

  The older man sitting at the oval-shaped table barely acknowledged her arrival. His grey eyes watched the olive-skinned woman scrape a wooden chair across the stone floor and slump herself into it before he spoke, a voice coated with a thick Italian accent. 'Si, la mia allieva. It is true,' he said.

  'Then my operation here in Egypt is sunk! If Renard is dead, then so is everything that we worked so hard to procure in London. That poison was essential for what I have planned for the Nile.' Spying the look of discontent on the man's face, the woman quickly lowered her guilt-ridden eyes to the floor. 'I have failed, teacher.'

  'Almost,' growled the man. 'Prior to his premature death, Renard was able to dispatch the consignment of poison into another operative's hands. The Hades Consortium has more than one dog in our kennel.' Without warning, the Italian slammed his fists down onto the marble table, sending a glass carafe crashing to the floor. 'London was a mistake, Jocasta! I was against it from the start! You allowed Renard too much slack on his leash, and look what happened as a result. He derailed a delicate operation that took months to plan – and for what? A petty feud with a circus magician of all things!'

  The woman's eyes flared. 'But surely you do not think that I had any power over that, teacher. Antoine Renard was always reckless!'

  'As are you, Jocasta, but as my protegee I keep you tamed – at least, that is what I tell the Hades Consortium's inner stratum. I am quickly running out of favour with the council, and more rides on the success of your plot than just your own fortunes. You have a lot of ground to make up.' The Italian twisted his bulk awkwardly in his seat as if constricted by a straitjacket, and he washed his tongue over his pearly teeth. 'It was not just Renard that we lost in London, remember? The Hades Consortium had been planning Commissioner Dray's ascension within Scotland Yard for years! Sir George will not be best pleased to hear of his son's death.'

  All colour drained from the woman's face. 'He…does not know?'

  'Sir George is busy with Consortium affairs in India at present. I do not think the news has reached his ears. Perhaps you would like to be the one to tell him, cara mia. After all, it was your botched operation that was to blame for his son's death.'

  'Surely you are more experienced in reporting failure to Sir George, teacher – or need I mention China?' said the woman, with a vague smile. 'It is not just me that has lost cultivated resources of late.'

  The Italian fumed. 'That bloated Chinaman was a stubborn fool. There was no way that he would allow us to encroach upon his boundaries, especially after what happened in the old days. There is bad blood between Cho-zen Li and me, let us leave it there. If I were you, I would be more concerned with my own affairs.'

  'I promise you, this project will be a success!' said the eager pupil, her smile now in full bloom. 'On New Year's Eve, the River Nile will be awash with the deadliest poison known to man. Egypt will be on its knees begging for mercy, and there are no circus magicians to get in the way this time.'

  CHAPTER II

  The Fond Farewell

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  WHERE THE HECK is Mr Q?' the knife thrower asked the Chinese identical twins, as she coiled her hair nervously around her fingers. 'He should be here by now!'

  Dressed in their matching leotards, decorated with the black and white symbols of their namesakes, Yin and Yang exchanged awkward glances and silent thoughts.

  'He will be here soon, Ruby,' insisted Yang. 'The boss would not miss a party, especially one where he is the guest of honour. He is probably on his way here as we speak.'

  'My brother is correct,' added Yin, also seeking to mellow Ruby's mood. 'The boss is a man of his word. When has he ever been late before?'

  A sudden hush descended upon the trio. Poor Ruby, she had worked so hard to plan this party to be perfect. It was just a shame that she had not factored Cornelius Quaint's legendary unreliability into the equation. Although capable of great marvels whilst on stage, the conjuror's timekeeping was decidedly less than marvellous.

  'Well…there was that one time in Spain,' said Yang. 'We had to perform the entire programme without him.'

  'And Austria. Don't forget Austria,' added Yin, unhelpfully.

  'Ah, yes. Quite right, brother,' nodded Yang. 'I had forgotten Austria.'

  'He spent almost six hours being measured for a new suit and we missed getting our papers stamped, remember?' offered Yin. 'We had to wait three days at the border before they would let us in.'

  'Now that you come to mention it…the boss is always late,' Yang said.

  'Actually, he is renowned for it,' agreed Yin.

  'Thanks, boys,' said Ruby through gritted teeth. 'You're just the tonic I needed. Remind me never to come to you if I'm feeling suicidal – which might be in about ten minutes if the boss doesn't show up!' The young woman threw her arms in the air and moved swiftly away from the acrobats, leaving them to practise their routine.

  The platform at Grosvenor Park railway station was a crowded affair. Colourfully decorated banners, streamers and flags adorned the side of the circus steam train. A hand-painted sign reading 'Bon Voyage' hung from the iron girders of the roof, and all the company's performers and crew had flocked onto the platform awaiting the arrival of their employer. Clowns, jugglers and acrobats were decked out in all their glory in readiness to perform a proper send-off befitting the much-respected – albeit currently absent – circus proprietor.

  Jeremiah the clown had painted himself up (reluctantly, if the look on his face was any indication) and stepped into his most garish outfit alongside his co-performer, Peregrine, who was dressed in a striped shirt and high trousers – high trousers, indeed, for the dwarf, who measured just shy of two and a half feet tall. Whilst Jeremiah gulped from a bottle of nondescript brown liquid, Peregrine seemed oddly transfixed by the cuffs of his shirt.

  'Perry, you've got a face like a slapped arse,' said Jeremiah. 'Have a swig of this stuff – it'll cheer you up no end.' He offered the bottle to the dwarf, who pushed it away as if it were arsenic.

  'Is that your homemade liquor?' squawked Peregrine. 'Christ, I ain't drinkin' that stuff again, Jerry. I'll be chuckin' me guts up all night like last time.' The dwarf took sniff of his cuffs, and retched. Standing on tiptoes, he presented his wrist to Jeremiah. 'Do us a favour and 'ave a sniff of this, will you?'

  Jeremiah leaned down and took a brief sniff of Peregrine's cuff. He recoiled, clamping a hand over his mouth. 'What the hell's that stench?'

  Peregrine scowled. 'It's that flippin' tiger, I swear! The bloody thing has been usin' me trunk as a bleedin' lav' again.'

  'You want to have a word with Kipo, mate – that stuff stinks!'

  'No wonder no one's botherin' to come over and chat!' grumbled Peregrine.

  'Oh, I don't think that's got anythin' to do with it, mate.'

  Peregrine looked up hopefully. 'You don't?'

  'Course not. Tiger piss is a darn sight more fragrant than the stink you normally give off,' said Jeremiah with a toying grin.

  As Ruby approached, the two clowns stood to attention and saluted.

  'Officer on deck!' chimed Peregrine.

  'Everything's ship-shape and ready for your inspection, ma'am,' added Jerry.

  'It was funny t
he first twenty times, lads, but now it's wearing a bit thin,' said Ruby. 'I've come to ask if you've seen Mr Q – if it's not asking too much to get a straight answer for a change?'

  'Straight answer?' chirped Peregrine, scratching his bushy beard. 'From us?'

  Jeremiah leaned over to him. 'Maybe she's got us confused with someone else.'

  'Could be,' said Peregrine, glancing at his colleague's baggy trousers, red-and-green-striped shirt and carrot-orange wig. 'We do get mistaken for the twins a lot.'

  'We heard that,' chorused two Chinese voices from across the platform.

  Ruby held up her hands. 'Never mind! I'll go somewhere else for some sense.'

  'Good luck with that,' called Peregrine. 'Most people have had some of Jerry's grog so there ain't much sense left in many of 'em. If the boss doesn't show his face soon this party will be over without him!'

  'Thanks for reminding me,' said Ruby as she turned away swiftly, bumping headlong into a diminutive Inuit dressed in a smart pinstripe suit, with an off-kilter bow tie at his neck.

  'Sorry, Miss Ruby. I did not see you,' the Inuit said, doffing an invisible cap.

  'Butter! At last, someone capable of normal conversation,' Ruby said, steering the Inuit away from the cackling clowns. 'If anyone knows where the boss is, it's going to be you.'

  Butter beamed up at the pretty knife thrower with besotted eyes.

  'Well?' Ruby asked, with a shrug.

  'Yes, thank you, Miss Ruby. The party is all going swimming!'

  'We've still got a way to go on your English lessons, I see,' said Ruby. 'I meant "Well?" as in "Well…have you seen him?"'

  'Seen who?' Butter enquired.

  'Who do you think?'

  Butter laid his head on one side. 'You can give me a clue, yes?'

  'I had better luck with the clowns,' Ruby said under her breath. 'A bossy six-foot-tall conjuror with a shock of silver curls. Ring any bells?'

  Butter broke into fits of giggles. 'Oh, Miss Ruby, I have played this game. It is much fun! And now I must guess who you say, yes?'

  Ruby was not quite at the end of her tether – but she was making extremely good progress towards it. 'This isn't a game, Butter! I'm asking if you've seen our illustrious leader anywhere.'

  'Oh…you mean Mr Quaint?' the Inuit asked.

  'Unless you know any other bossy six-foot-tall conjurors with shocks of silver curls?' enquired Ruby.

  Butter carefully considered the question. 'No. I do not think that I do.'

  'Never mind. I'll find Prometheus and ask him,' Ruby said, turning around.

  'Prometheus, yes. I know where the strongman is!' said Butter.

  'Yes?' asked Ruby expectantly.

  'Yes!' announced Butter with pride.

  'You know where Prometheus is?' asked Ruby again, just to be sure.

  'Yes!' repeated Butter.

  'You're absolutely sure?'

  'Yes! Yes!'

  'Okay then…so where is he?' Ruby asked.

  'He is with Mr Quaint,' the Inuit replied.

  Ruby waved goodbye to her tether as it vanished into the distance. She should have won some kind of award for keeping her composure, but as she bent down closer to the Inuit, it was clear that her fixed smile was obviously causing her some discomfort.

  'And…why did you not tell me that when I asked?'

  'But Miss Ruby, you ask if I have seen Mr Quaint, yes? For which the answer is no, but for where is our strongman, it is yes. Prometheus has a spotty business.'

  Ruby waggled her finger in her ear. 'He's got a spotty what?'

  'Prometheus says he is going with the boss for "a spotty business down by the docks",' the Inuit confirmed.

  It was at times such as this that Ruby had often wished that she had listened to her mother, and learned skills more befitting a young lady than being able to catch a knife between her teeth from twenty yards.

  'When did he tell you that?' she asked Butter.

  'It has been more than two hours, Miss Ruby.'

  'Two hours?' groaned Ruby.

  'Something is wrong perhaps?' asked Butter.

  'When the boss is involved it's pretty much guaranteed, isn't it?' said Ruby, darting off down the platform and leaving the Inuit in a state of bewilderment. 'I'll find Madame Destine. If anyone can tell me whether Mr Q is actually going to bother showing up to his own farewell party, it's her!'

  Ruby pushed through the eclectic collection of circus performers towards a veiled woman kneeling near the front of the brightly decorated steam engine, seemingly immersed in deep conversation with a muscular tiger.

  'You naughty pussycat, you should be ashamed of yourself,' the woman said to the tiger, her lilting French accent draping every syllable in silk. 'Peregrine is a dwarf, not one of your cubs.' The tiger growled back its discontent. 'Oui, I am well aware that he is small and furry, but it is not acceptable. You will just have to find something else to snuggle up with at night!' Madame Destine looked up at the white turban-wearing, gangly Indian, holding the tiger's chain. 'I think Rajah has learned his lesson, Kipo. Hopefully Peregrine will no longer have cause for complaint.'

  'Bad Rajah! No supper for you,' said Kipo, as he tugged on the tiger's chain and led him back onboard the steam train.

  To anyone else this might have seemed a strange affair, but for Ruby Marstrand it was a common occurrence as part of Dr Marvello's Travelling Circus. Surrealism she could handle – it was reality that was sometimes difficult to grasp.

  'Destine, thank God I've found you,' she said breathlessly.

  The elderly fortune-teller lifted her white lace veil. She was in her seventies, but her complexion was smooth and her misty blue eyes sparkled with youthful vigour. 'Something that I can do for you, ma chere fille?'

  'I hope so,' replied a flustered Ruby. 'Mr Q hasn't turned up and Butter says he's gone to the docks with Prometheus. How can this be a farewell party if the guest of honour is nowhere to be found?'

  Madame Destine rested her hand upon Ruby's shoulder. 'Calm yourself, child. I can feel your apprehension.' Although her exceptional clairvoyant abilities had been noticeably infrequent of late, Destine was still possessed of her uncanny ability to perceive the emotions of those close to her – not that it was all that difficult on this occasion. 'Do not worry, my sweet. Cornelius has a habit of making a grand entrance. When he arrives I shall let him know how he has worried you so. In the meantime, please try to enjoy yourself. This is a party, n'est-ce pas?'

  'It was supposed to be.' Ruby puffed her cheeks in submission and pushed up on her toes, flapping her arms at her sides. 'I'll say one thing: it's going to be awfully quiet around here without Mr Q. You've known him nearly all his life…how on earth are you going to cope whilst he's away in Egypt?'

  The Frenchwoman's smile slipped, and she quickly pulled her veil down to cover her face. 'Pardonnez moi, Ruby, I…I have something that I must attend to. Will you please excuse me?'

  Ruby grabbed Destine's wrist and tugged her back. 'Destine? Are you…crying?' She brought the fortune-teller into her embrace. 'Oh, sweetheart, don't do that, you'll start me off. Listen, I'll miss him too. We all will. But he'll be back before you know it, you'll see. It'll be like he never even went away!' Ruby gently pushed against Destine's shoulders, hoping to see a smile blossom once more upon her delicate face, but the expression was as cheerless as before. 'What is it? What's wrong?'

  Madame Destine looked at the crowd that bustled around them, before leading Ruby to a more secluded area of the platform.

  'I am afraid that it is not just Cornelius whom the circus will miss, Ruby,' she said softly. 'You see…I have decided to accompany him.'

  Ruby's face went ash-grey. 'Accompany him where? To Egypt, you mean?'

  'Oui, that is so.'

  'But…why?'

  'Because he needs me,' the Frenchwoman replied.

  'Rubbish! Mr Q doesn't need anyone!'

  'He likes people to think that, true…but as you said, I have known him all his life
. Far better than most. Better than he knows himself, in fact. Soon, he will be in most desperate need of a guiding light…and I must be there for him,' said Destine, with an audible lament to her soft tones.

  'But…what about us? What about me? I need you too! You're the only person that I can have a decent conversation with around here without you breaking wind, talking in riddles or bouncing around the place like a rubber ball. Losing Mr Q is one thing, but losing you as well? How on earth am I supposed to cope without you?'

  Destine smiled warmly, fresh tears in her eyes. 'You will cope just fine, Ruby.'

  'But…I don't understand. After all we've been through recently…with what happened to Twinkle, and Prometheus being locked up. Why do you want to go?'

  'That is just it, my child, I do not…but I must,' replied Destine. 'Before my clairvoyant gifts became clouded with interference, they left me with a tantalising souvenir…a vision of something that is to occur in the near future. It is connected to the plot that Cornelius is hell-bent on preventing, I am certain. That is why I requested to accompany him on his voyage.'

  'And it's bad news I take it?' asked Ruby.

  'With Cornelius is it ever anything but?' smiled Destine. 'With my gifts absent, I cannot translate the true meaning behind what the vision was trying to show me, but even so the message was clear.'

  Ruby could not resist asking, 'And…what was it?'

  'Dark times are coming, my dear Ruby,' Destine replied. 'Dark times for Cornelius…and possibly for us all. The words in my vision still haunt me even now. "The past and the present shall entwine once more. Beware the dawn of the Eleventh Plague." I can only assume that it refers to Cornelius's impending quest. After all, was Egypt not visited by ten biblical plagues? The poisoning of the River Nile would certainly fit amongst their number. With my prophetic gifts playing hide and seek, it is like taking a leap of blind faith, and I must accept much. It is most disconcerting for a clairvoyant to be faced with an unknown future, Ruby. I only pray that the fog in my mind will clear once we arrive in Egypt.'