The Baited Hook
IMPRISONED WITHIN A holding cell beneath the British Embassy, Destine was seated on a long wooden bench with her back to the wall, silent and brooding. A tray of food had been placed outside the bars of her cell, but she was in no mood to eat. Be it fate, or circumstance, or even coincidence, something had caused her path to cross Godfrey Joyce's. Hearing the scuffing of footsteps down the flight of stone stairs, she steeled her nerve as the large double doors at the far end of the cell block were wrenched open.
'Not hungry, Madame?' asked Godfrey Joyce, tapping his toe against the tray of untouched food on the floor. 'That'll do you no good, you know.'
'I am not making a petition for release, monsieur,' Destine said calmly. 'I simply find it difficult to stomach food in your presence.'
'Hoping your friend Quaint will come and save you?' asked Joyce.
'If Cornelius is on his way here, then he is not coming for me,' said Madame Destine. 'He is coming for you.'
'You're sure of that are you? You've certainly got a lot of faith in your companion. I must admit to being a little intrigued by this Quaint fellow myself. Nastasi was rather vague. What is this man doing in Egypt?'
'Hunting,' Destine replied.
'Hunting what, might I ask?' Joyce enquired.
Madame Destine's expression did not falter. 'People like you.'
'Well, I am afraid that he'll find me a tricky prey to catch,' Joyce said, smoothing his mutton-chop sideburns. 'Fortune-teller or not, you are still just as good a bargaining chip as the fellow in the cell next door to you. Is that not right, boy?' Joyce stepped back and slammed his hand against the metal bars of the cell next to Destine's. For the first time, the Frenchwoman realised that she was not alone in her incarceration. 'Your fate rests in your brother's hands, young Scarab, but fear not…your time will come. Once you have outlived your usefulness I will have no hesitation in ordering your death.' Joyce returned to Destine's view. 'So, Madame…what exactly is in that journal of Bedford's anyway? And how much does your friend Cornelius know about it?'
'He knows what I know, ver!' Destine lied. Cornelius Quaint had absolutely no idea at all who Aloysius Bedford was, of course, but at that moment it was the only weapon she had at her disposal. 'He knows all about your betrayal and he knows what happened in Umkaza!'
'Does he now?' mused Joyce. 'Well, that puts an interesting slant on things. Nastasi didn't tell me that. It seems my hard efforts for Umkaza to remain secret were for nothing. So what was Bedford to you anyway?'
'A friend,' Destine replied, lowering her head. 'You pretended to help him, introducing your accomplice Nastasi, promising assistance, yet all the while all you cared about was stealing the Pharaoh's Cradle from under his nose!'
'The Pharaoh's Cradle?' Joyce took a step closer to the bars of the holding cell. An inch of iron was the only thing separating him and Destine, but it might as well have been a mile. 'Now there's something I've not heard mention of for a long time. My, you're just full of surprising information, aren't you, my dear? I may have misjudged you, Madame. Why is it that it has taken you so long to find your voice? All this stuff happened two decades ago. It's ancient history!'
'Not to me,' said Destine, grinding her teeth on the words. 'I warned Aloysius not to trust you!' She felt an itch somewhere at the back of her mind, the vaguest of recollections, the merest hint of a memory – confirmed by Aloysius's words in his journal. 'I warned him what you were planning, how you sought to betray him!'
'You? So you can see the future, after all.'
'Non, my clairvoyance is no more…but twenty years ago it was functioning perfectly!' snapped Destine. 'I saw what you were planning, monsieur. I saw that you were merely using Aloysius…and because of my intervention you never got your hands on that treasure!'
'Whoever said it was the Cradle that I was after?' asked Joyce. 'But anyway, as I say, that was a long time ago now. It really doesn't matter what you know about Umkaza…or what your friend Cornelius knows. No one cares any more!'
'On the contrary, Monsieur Joyce,' said Destine. 'I am sure that the British government will not look upon you favourably once they learn the truth.'
'It's not the British that I'm fearful of, let me assure you,' said Joyce. 'And even if you were in a position to speak of it, who would believe an old crone like you over someone like me, hmm?' He stared numbly at Destine as she began to laugh. 'Am I missing something?'
'I see now what my task was all along,' Destine replied, a tranquil expression on her face. 'My destiny was not just to shed light upon Aloysius Bedford's betrayal…it was to expose you for the fiend you are! You think that you are safe here within the walls of your little castle, monsieur, but you are wrong. Soon it will all come crashing down.'
'I hardly think so!' Joyce protested. 'If you don't mind me saying, you do seem to have a slightly discoloured appreciation of your present predicament.' He leaned cockily against the bars of the holding cell, grinning widely as if a distant relative had just passed away and left him a small fortune. 'I am dispatching you to Fantoma, to my employers, and I wonder how long it will take the torturers of the Hades Consortium's jail to wipe that smile off your face.'
'The Hades Consortium?' asked Destine shaken.
'I must leave you for a time whilst I check on the whereabouts of your companion, but I will return soon.' Joyce turned swiftly towards the cell block's exit, his voice trailing as he walked back up the stairs. 'Sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but I think the walls of my little castle will be fortified for quite some time yet.'
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.'