Darren Craske - The Eleventh Plague

As he slammed the heavy iron door, Destine felt an uncomfortable silence settle upon her. If Godfrey Joyce was employed by the Hades Consortium, it did not bear thinking about. Surely Aloysius was not mixed up with them back in 1833? Was that why Cornelius was en route? Had his line of enquiries led him right to Joyce's door? Did Cornelius know of her fate? Would he arrive in time to save her?

'Pondering your fate, Madame?' said a familiar voice, as Heinrich Nadir peeled himself from the shadows.

'I wondered what that bad smell was,' said Destine.

'I see you have picked up some of your English companion's bad habits since our last meeting onboard the ship, Madame,' said Nadir slimily. 'Now, like Cornelius Quaint, you are just another victim of the Hades Consortium.'

'You also?' demanded Destine.

'But of course,' said Nadir, with a bow. 'Herr Joyce seems a most confident individual. Certainly not one of our more astute employees, but he has at least enabled me to arrange things according to my plan.'

'Your plan?' asked Destine. 'I thought Joyce was in charge.'

'So does Joyce,' grinned Nadir. 'But even though we share employers, I suppose you might say that I pay heed to a higher calling than he. Joyce is just like you – a means to an end…and that end is almost in sight.'

'So that is why you have come down here?' asked Destine. 'To boast of your employers' plot to poison the Nile?'

'Not at all,' Nadir said deftly. 'I just wanted to look at you one more time. Before your imminent death, I mean. He has your eyes, I think.'

Destine was taken aback. 'He? Of whom do you refer?'

'Why…your son, of course,' the German replied, watching the jolt of disbelief on Destine's face. 'Antoine's lust for death is virtually unsurpassed in the annals of the Hades Consortium. I have worked by his side and watched him excel these past few years, he really is something to behold.'

Destine's eyes narrowed. 'You…you knew my son?'

'Oh, ja…we are old friends,' Nadir replied.

'Do you not mean "were"?'

Nadir grinned shrewdly. 'Do I?'

Destine's heart missed a beat. Attempting to get a measure of what thoughts were running throughout the German's mind, she ordered her sensitive feelings to examine this creature. Her incredibly delicate senses detected numerous layers to him, many conflicting with each other.

'I can see why Antoine would have liked you,' she said, eventually. 'You have such coldness in your heart…you are bereft of any feeling.'

'You possess a marvellously sharp intellect, Frau Destine – yet you are not quite on the mark,' Nadir replied, taking pleasure with every clipped syllable. 'I do feel. Revenge, hatred, passion…I feel them all when I am in service to the Hades Consortium – and, soon, your companion Cornelius Quaint shall feel them too. If only you still retained your ability to see the future, Frau Destine, perhaps you could have warned him that he is about to walk into a trap.'

The Cog in the Machine

MINUTES LATER, GODFREY Joyce returned and stood in front of Madame Destine's cell, his arms linked behind his back, glaring with a self-satisfied expression as his two silent assassins manhandled her to her feet and dragged her from it and out into the Embassy's stable yard. She squinted her eyes as the blast of daylight hit her. Heinrich Nadir stood by a horse-drawn cart with a covered roof, his tongue silent, but the cogs within his brain ever working. His employer would be pleased. So far everything had transpired just as he had foreseen.

For Nadir personally, this boded well.

To her credit, Destine fought against her brutish captors the whole way, and as she was flung into the back of the cart, she lashed out with her feet, catching one of the assassins in the face. His nose spat blood. He raised his arm to strike her, but Nadir intervened, grabbing the assassin's arm.

'She is no good to the Hades Consortium dead, fool!' he reprimanded.

'Defiant until your last breath, Madame?' taunted Joyce. 'At least you'll have some company on the journey to Fantoma.' He nudged the Aksak's brother, bound and gagged next to Destine in the cart, and he stumbled onto the floor, his face littered with bloodied bruises. 'But enjoy it, because once you get there, you'll never see daylight again.'

'Gloat whilst you still have a breath in your body, Monsieur Joyce,' retorted Destine sharply. 'Soon Cornelius will come, and I only wish I was here to witness your downfall. You do not know him as I do. When he sets his mind to it he is capable of moving mountains.'

'We shall see,' said Joyce, as he signalled to his assassins. 'Take her away.'

Nadir shook Joyce's hand limply and clambered up onto the front seat of the cart next to the driver. 'I will send Lady Jocasta your regards,' he said.

The Hades Consortium assassins tied a blindfold around Destine's eyes and a gag around her mouth. The material tasted of paraffin and the Frenchwoman retched, swallowing the acrid taste back down her throat. With the blindfold obscuring her vision, she did not see Godfrey Joyce's gloating face as the cart moved along the gravel driveway towards the rear gates – nor did she catch a glimpse of Cornelius Quaint crouch down behind the low wall, out of sight.

Quaint watched the cart disappear into the distance, consumed by the fading light of the passing day.

'I hope that wasn't Joyce, or this plan is over before it's even begun,' he said.

'It was not,' said Faroud. 'It was Joyce's driver…and another man and a woman. I did not see them clearly, but neither was our target, which means that the man is still inside.'

'Well, what are we waiting for?' asked Quaint. 'Let's go and say hello.'

'It will not be an easy feat to sneak into this place, Cornelius.'

'Whoever said we were going to sneak in?' replied Quaint with a cocksure grin.

'Somehow I knew you were going to say that,' said Faroud. 'Just remember what I told you about Joyce. He might not look a formidable threat, but his mind is always ticking away behind his eyes. He is as slippery as an eel…a traitor not just to his own country, but to Egypt as well. Surely there can be nothing more despicable than that.'

'And when did you find out that Joyce was a rotten egg?' the conjuror enquired of a suddenly perplexed Faroud. 'You know…a bad seed,' rephrased Quaint, attempting to clarify his point. If the Egyptian's expression was anything to go by, he had failed miserably. 'For the leader of a band of underground criminals, you are woefully out of date with your slang! I mean, how did you find out about Joyce's connections to the Hades Consortium?'

'Through my brother,' Faroud replied softly. 'Rakmun was captured whilst stealing from the Embassy. He almost killed two of the guards and was apprehended at the scene, supposedly.'

Quaint raised an eyebrow. 'Supposedly?'

'Rakmun was no angel…he was a Scarab, after all…but he was loyal to me as a brother and as an Aksak,' explained Faroud. 'He had never expressed any interest in thieving from the Embassy; he knew it would have been a pointless venture. What we Scarabs do, we do for the good of the clan. We would never attempt such a foolhardy exploit so far from Bara Mephista – especially alone. The last I heard of Rakmun that night, he was out near the ruins of Fantoma sniffing around the Hades Consortium's affairs. He had been observing increased activity in the area and wished to investigate further.'

'And yet he managed to drag himself halfway across the country to rob the Embassy?' quizzed Quaint. 'That doesn't make much sense.'

'No, Cornelius…there is much of Rakmun's crime that failed to make sense.'

Quaint raised an eyebrow. 'Oh?'

'Joyce made it known in the local communities that one of the Clan Scarabs had been captured. He knew it would reach my ears,' Faroud began, the details still fresh in his mind. 'I contacted him to try to broker a deal between us. Even though I thought he was far too convenient in his guise as my brother's saviour, I had no choice. He told me that Rakmun was to be hanged but if I agreed to aid him, he would petition his release.' Faroud's eyes seemed to cloud over, as if spread with a layer of fine frost. 'Yet that was many weeks ago now. Joyce claimed that only his influence is keeping my brother alive. With no other recourse, I was forced to do as he commanded. I became a lapdog…just as Professor North rightly called me yesterday. Rakmun is all I have left of my family, Cornelius…I had to do whatever it took to keep him safe. But no more. I want to get inside that Embassy and beat the truth from Joyce…which is why I agreed to your hasty plan.'