Ghosts by Gaslight - Jack Dann [35]
“Just as I found it, Dr. Kray,” I said.
“Which was where, Mr. Trenton, if I may ask?”
“You will understand that this must remain undisclosed for the present.”
“Of course. Of course.” Kray was examining the casket again, carefully, so carefully, spending long minutes studying the wood, the mixture of pitch and resins keeping it still airtight after so many centuries. He was no doubt imagining a new royal cache, one not yet made known to the Arab Bureau, the Antiquities Service, or the British High Commission, or possibly even more: the barely imaginable wonder of a new sealed tomb, possibly that of Herihor or Tutankhamun, for heaven’s sake, a continuing stream of artefacts finding their way into the special holds of ships using the Suez Canal or reaching England by way of the old contraband routes out of Morocco and Spain. “I’m sure we can reach an agreement, Mr. Trenton. But please. Why have you invited me here ahead of Dr. Bendeck? We are business associates. He said he was asked to call on you at four o’clock, yet your invitation to me specified three and asked for strictest discretion. Surely we might have called on you together. Unless . . . May I assume . . . ?” Kray hesitated a final time, daring not say it.
I spread my hands. You understand how it is. Make an offer if you wish. “I know you are a man of discrimination, Dr. Kray. A man of letters. A scholar as well as a collector and a dealer. I merely wanted to give you time to examine this piece in your own time, make an unhurried appraisal, form your own conclusions.”
“Yes, yes, I see. I thank you for that.”
“And give us a chance to talk. Let me be frank. When Dr. Bendeck arrives, it will be different.”
Kray returned to his armchair, seated himself again. He took another sip of port and gave me a shrewd look. “Very well,” he said finally, setting down his glass. “May I be equally frank? This is an unadorned casket. It possibly contains the mummy of a nonentity like those unidentified individuals Maspero discovered among the fifty kings of the DB320 cache. The controversial Unknown Man E, for instance, possibly a disgraced royal prince, possibly a murdered royal suitor for Tutankhamun’s widow, but, equally possible, nothing more than a favorite servant, even someone the overzealous reinterment officials accidentally included in their haste to stay ahead of the looters.” Kray leant forward, well-manicured hands on his knees. “If there were the occasional relic of—not to put too fine a point on it—actual intrinsic as well as archaeological value, say, of gold or silver, gemstones, of the finest craftsmanship, I would be happy to reach some mutual accommodation on a more—personal—basis.”
I smiled and nodded to indicate that this was exactly what I had had in mind, as if, all going well, there would indeed be such intrinsically valuable pieces on offer.
“Excellent,” I said, raising my glass. “This is precisely why I made so bold as to ask you here ahead of your, so I’ve been told, more officious colleague. As you can appreciate, I prefer not to deal with a consortium.”
“Capital.” Kray emptied his glass and chuckled with pleasure again as Ramose repeated his earlier performance, stilting and propping across to the decanter, tilting forward to pick up the second tray of the three, and returning with it, setting it down on the occasional table between Kray and me. Fortunately, instinctively, my guest moved his empty glass clear and placed it on the tray when he took a filled one. Ramose could not have managed such a retrieval. The mummy then stiff-legged back to his place to the left of the fire and became still, though, as ever, seeming to be listening, following everything we said.
While Kray’s attention was on the construct, I checked the time. A quarter of four. Kray’s examination of the WH38 casket had taken longer than expected. Bendeck would be here soon. It was time to give the good doctor his due. Minchin had been their agent in Cairo, the one