Ron Goulart - The Curse of the Obelisk

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18 RON GOULART "Yes. Thanks to Lorenzo, I feel I've got my mind back." She touched the magician's pudgy hand for an instant, smiling at him. "You really are a wizard, you know." "I have never laid claim to any true magical powers," he reminded. "But one can't help but be aware that a few of my little knacks do seem a trifle supernatural." Jennie flipped back a few pages in her notebook. "You have some serious opposition, Harry," she said. "Have you ever heard of an Englishman named Max Orchardson?" "A true mountebank," murmured the magician. Harry exhaled smoke. "Sure, he's been called the most decadent man in Europe," he said. "He supposedly pals around with the Yellow Book crowd— Oscar Wilde, Aubrey Beardsley and such— and also dabbles in black magic. Though that last could be only an affectation." "It isn't," she said. "I wrote a series of articles on Orchardson last year while I was in London for my paper." Harry frowned. "Don't recall seeing those." "That's because they never ran," Jennie explained. "My editors decided we might be risking libel charges after . . . well, I'd had signed statements from several witnesses. One evening all of them suddenly burst into flames while sitting on my desk in the hotel room. Next, two of my best witnesses got in touch with me and claimed they'd lied. A third dived into the Thames one foggy night and never surfaced." "Typical of the way Orchardson operates," commented the Great Lorenzo. "The guy is really a magician?" "The man seemingly does have true powers," he acknowledged. "He also has a great deal of money, earned in India long ago by kin less aesthetic than he. And, like Wilde, he is a master showman." "I had a sworn account of devil worship and at least one instance of human sacrifice," said Jennie. Harry asked her, "Is Orchardson here in Paris? Is he the one who hypnotized you?" She nodded. "He was waiting in my hotel room," she said, shivering once. "He's an obese man, puffy and pale as death. He . . . even though I tried to fight against it . . . hypnotized me. Using an opal medallion he wears around his fat neck." "Nowhere near as effective as a coin," said the magician. "What were you supposed to do?" She lowered her head, picked up the pencil and tapped at the tablecloth with its blunt tip. "Follow you, report to him all that you did while in Paris." "He knows why I'm here?" "Seemed to. At least he knew you were going to the museum and when. I was instructed to follow you." "Why?" "He's interested in the Osiris Obelisk."
THE CURSE OF THE OBELISK 19 Harry said, "What about shooting the mummy?" She turned to the next page of the notes. "I was told to destroy anyone who tried to get near it." "Including me?" "No, no. I was only to keep close to you and report regularly to him." "What about that giant bat?" The Great Lorenzo coughed. "There's a striking detail no one has bothered to share with—" "Fill you in later," Harry promised. "I don't know anything about the bat," answered Jennie. "Apparently when I shot and scared the darn thing off, I was acting on my own." "How were you supposed to report to Orchardson?" "He's staying in a villa in a suburb of Paris, Neuilly-sur-Seine." "When do you report?" "Three this afternoon." Harry nodded at the magician. "Is your afternoon free?" "I had intended to rekindle a touching relationship with a countess who is, except for a cork leg, the quintessence of middle-aged charm and beauty," he replied. "However, I'll give up that pleasure to put myself entirely at your disposal, my boy." "Good. We'll pay a call on Max Orchardson." "Harry," warned Jennie, "he's dangerous." "So am I."
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Ron Goulart - The Curse of the Obelisk

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