Quillings looked at the pen and compact on the table, then took a step closer to me so that I was forced to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. "Do you really think it will be that easy?" he asked. "With Chaos causing riots in the streets—"
"Chaos is behind that?"
"We believe so. Someone is certainly behind it and Chaos is the most likely. You must understand, Miss Throckmorton. Things are different here on the frontlines of the fight against Chaos. The London operation that Wigmere runs is more of a last line of defense. It is designed to catch whatever slips through our grasp. But here in the field, we take a much more active approach when we come face-to-face with evil."
His words sent a chill down my back.
"Now, take these." He took the pen and compact from the table and put them firmly in my hand. "And do not be afraid to use them. Remember, it is not only your life you are protecting, Miss Throckmorton, but the lives of countless innocents who do not even suspect that such hideous magic exists or what it would do if unleashed in their midst."
Reluctantly, my fingers closed around the items, and then I quickly dropped them into my pocket, as if they were hot. I was suddenly desperate to be away from Quillings and his sinister laboratory. "Is that all, sir? I should probably get back to my mother. She didn't have that much to discuss with Monsieur Maspero."
Quillings looked at me steadily, as if he knew perfectly well why I wanted to leave. "Of course. But do remember one thing. It's different here, where we live side by side with the ancient mysteries." Then he bade me goodbye and wished me Godspeed.
Slowly, with my head whirling, I made my way back to the public part of the museum. I couldn't make up my mind about Quillings and his thoughts on how to combat Chaos. It seemed too much like the methods Chaos themselves used.
I did envy him his laboratory, however. Just think of how many curses I could remove with all of that equipment!
I'd reached the door that led back to the storage closet and cautiously poked my head through. Bing wasn't waiting for me in the closet, so I stepped out into the hall.
An unfamiliar gentleman loitered in the corridor. As soon as he saw me, he hurried over. "Bing sent me," he explained. "He has been detained by Maspero and asked that I escort you back to your mother."
"And who did you say you were?" I asked, giving him a nudge to use the code phrase.
There was a flash of annoyance in the other man's face, just a second-too-long pause before he answered. "I am Carruthers."
That was it. Simply "Carruthers." No mention that he had come from the West. Slowly, I began to back away from him.
The stranger lowered his brow in a scowl and took a step toward me just as Bing himself came round the corner. "Oh, are you done, then? I was just coming to fetch you."
The stranger, realizing the gig was up, leaped forward, grabbed for my arm with one hand, and fumbled at his jacket with the other.
CHAPTER FOUR
Come Into My Parlor, Said the Spider to the Fly
I DIDN'T STICK AROUND LONG ENOUGH to see what he was reaching for. I grasped the cords of my reticule, then swung it down—hard—against his knuckles. He gave a shout of surprise and relaxed his grip. I jerked away and darted down the nearest hall. "Be careful!" I called to Bing. "I think he's got a weapon!" Then I clamped my mouth shut and took the next corner at full tilt.
The exhibits, I thought. I needed to get to the exhibits where there'd be loads of people. He'd have a hard time snatching me if others were watching. I ran as silently as I could, which was hard in the echoing marble halls of the museum. I stayed up on my toes as much as possible, which helped keep my footsteps quieter but made my calves scream in agony. I turned a corner, then another, and the shouts of the men faded behind me.
I took another turn and found myself in a gallery, which meant I must have crossed the full length of the museum. Pursuing footsteps sounded behind me. Not waiting to see who it was, I tore down the stairs to the ground floor, afraid a huge, hairy hand would reach out from behind and snatch me at any moment.
At the bottom of the stairs, I darted into a room full of magnificent jewelry (New Kingdom, seventeenth century BC). Unfortunately, the room was empty, so there were no witnesses among whom I could lose myself. However, the display cases were enormous, so I threw myself behind the nearest one and tried to breathe as softly as I could, even though my lungs were begging for air.
There was the squeak of shoe leather on the polished floor and I felt the pursuer's ka, or life force, hovering in the doorway. I quickly cast my eyes downward so he wouldn't feel me looking back at him and held my breath.
After a long moment, the footsteps moved on down the hallway. Allowing myself to breathe a little more deeply, I waited another five minutes to be certain he wouldn't double back. Finally, with great reluctance, I crept out of my hiding place and inched toward the doorway, careful to keep close to the wall and out of sight. When I slowly stuck my neck out to check the hallway, I nearly screamed as I came eyeball to eyeball with a pair of rapidly blinking eyes.
"Mr. Bing!" I gasped in relief, putting my hand up to keep my heart from thudding right out of my chest.
"This way, miss," he said, keeping his voice low. "Let's get you back to Maspero's office."
"What happened to Carruthers?" I asked, falling into step alongside him.
"He made his way to the front exit and got out that way. I sent one of the guards after him, but he had a decent head start, so I'm not hopeful."
"How did he get in, do you think?"
Bing shrugged. "He'd just have to pay admission like everyone else."
When at last we reached Maspero's office, Bing rapped quickly on the door. "Come in," a muffled voice called out.
Bing opened the door and stepped aside so I could go in. "I'll go see if the guard had any luck," he whispered, then closed the door behind him.
"There you are, darling," Mother said. "Do come in and meet Mr. Borscht."
My head snapped up. Borscht? I thought she was to meet with Monsieur Maspero. "How do you do, sir," I said as I bobbed a small curtsy.
"Very pleased to meet you, young lady."
Mr. Borscht did not have a lick of hair on his head, and his shaved scalp gleamed faintly in the light coming from the window. It was an odd look, especially when coupled with the dark black mustache that covered the lower half of his face. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were an arctic blue.
"Come sit down, dear. We're almost done."
I wanted to ask Mother what had happened to Monsieur Maspero, but that seemed rude to do in front of Mr. Borscht. Hoping I didn't look too disheveled after my gallop through the museum, I took the seat next to her, my heart still beating rapidly. There was a small tray with empty plates. They'd had tea, I realized, then remembered I'd not gotten the refreshment Mr. Bing had promised me. Looking at the empty plates only made my stomach feel emptier, so I turned my attention to Mr. Borscht.
He was staring at me hungrily. Something about that gaze sent a chill of warning down my spine. Unsettled, I quickly cast my eyes downward.
His hands were encased in black gloves, and his right hand toyed with a letter opener while his other hand...
His other hand lay perfectly still. In fact, he held it at a rather odd angle, as if it was useless to him.