But his victory was cut short when Charley rolled her wheelchair over his outstretched hand and picked up the pendant for herself.
“The Eye of Horus,” said Charley, recognizing one of the most potent symbols in Egyptian magick. Tying a quick knot in the broken chain she slipped the necklace over her head. “Oh lovely,” she said, “it fits.”
Doogie was gasping for breath as the mummy continued to crush him remorselessly.
Charley raised her hand to the mummy. “Stop!”
Obediently the mummy froze.
“Release the boy.”
Again the mummy obeyed.
“No,” Cowley shrieked. “I am your master!”
The mummy growled at Cowley but refused to move.
“You obey ME!” Cowley was screaming now. “I brought you back to life, you are my servant, MINE!”
Charley wondered what order she should give the mummy. Kill Cowley? No, she was a police officer, not an executioner. Capture Cowley?
Charley allowed herself a smile as she came up with a different idea. Being a servant had driven Cowley down such a desperate and bitter path of revenge, so perhaps…?
“I give you one last command,” said Charley. “I set you free from whatever chains you have been bound with.”
The mummy started to roar. “Ffffffeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr.” Its head snapped round so that it was facing Cowley. It took a slow step towards its former master. Then another.
Cowley laughed. “See,” he sneered. “The mummy is my slave…and always will be.”
“Fffffffffeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeee,” groaned the mummy, standing in front of Cowley.
It placed one hand on Cowley’s shoulder. Then the other.
“Fffffferrrreeeeeee,” said the mummy. “Ffrree.”
The mummy’s hands began to squeeze Cowley’s shoulders. Charley watched the emotions change on Cowley’s face. Confusion becoming fear becoming pain.
Cowley wasn’t finished yet, however. With a massive show of force, he took his axe in both hands. Clenching the shaft and using it like a quarterstaff he pushed up and away, breaking the mummy’s death grip. Without even pausing, Cowley let one hand slide along the shaft and brought the axe down with a mighty chop.
The mummy looked at the stump where his arm had been. Then he looked down at his bandaged feet where the severed arm lay. “Freeeee,” the mummy growled, swinging his one remaining fist at Cowley’s head. On the floor, the detached arm jerked towards Cowley’s legs, snatching at his ankles and dragging a trail of loose bandages behind it.
Cowley attacked again. This time the axe connected with the mummy’s neck, slicing through the corpse like butter. The mummy’s head bounced across the floor to land at Billy’s feet.
But the headless body and the disconnected arm continued to attack.
“Freeee,” said the mummy’s severed head.
Billy picked it up. “Here you go, mate,” he said, tossing it to Cowley. “Catch!”
Cowley caught the head instinctively. As he held it in his hands more bandages uncurled. The leathery lips moved. “Free,” the mummy gurgled. Then it tried to bite Cowley’s fingers with its ancient brown teeth.
Charley and Doogie turned their attentions towards the door of the tomb and the outside world. A dog was barking in the distance – someone else was coming their way.
“Go, Doogie,” said Charley, “get out while you still can.”
Doogie looked at the three steep steps which led to the open door and freedom. He looked back at Charley. “I’ll not leave ye, miss.”
On impulse Charley took the young lad’s hand and kissed it. “Go and get help,” she said. “That’s an order.”
By now, Cowley had dropped the mummy’s head on the floor and lifted his axe to split it in two. He would have managed it too if Billy hadn’t stepped in behind him and grabbed him by the wrists. But Cowley was bigger and stronger than Billy and easily able to break the young detective’s hold. With a callous grin, Cowley turned and kicked Billy in the stomach. Billy crumpled to the floor in pain.
The headless mummy was beginning to unravel completely, the bandages peeling away from the preserved body. The strips of cloth writhed in the air like the legs of an octopus, apparently with a life of their own…
Cowley raised his axe again, this time aiming for Billy.
“Off with his head!” shouted Queen Victoria.
“Nooooooo!” shouted Charley.
“Freeee,” gurgled the mummy’s head.
Whilst Charley watched, terrified, the animated bandages reached out. They looped around Cowley’s wrists and pulled as tight as a hangman’s noose. Other living bandages snatched the axe out of Cowley’s grasp.
As Billy scrambled backwards on his hands and feet, every last strip of cloth unwound from the mummy. The bandages snaked out and lashed themselves around Cowley. He tried to escape but the bandages were too quick. First his legs were captured, rooting him to the spot. Then his arms, his body. His face.
It was a macabre sight. The mummy was gradually reduced to a walking headless skeleton, wizened brown muscles clinging to yellow bones, while Cowley was turned into a living mummy, screaming with every fresh binding that tightened around him.
Finally it was complete. The bodily remains of the mummy stood for a second – and then collapsed, disintegrating into dust. A grisly skull with leathery skin pulled tight against the bone was all that was left to show that the mummy had ever been there at all.
“Peace,” sighed the mummy’s skull and then his head too crumbled away into nothing more than sand.
The momentary silence was interrupted by the sound of footsteps like a herd of elephants, charging down the tomb steps. Wellington came first, a scrap of Billy’s trouser leg still in his jaws. Doogie was a close second, followed by three burly constables manhandling three ashamed-looking servants, dressed in Egyptian robes. Inspector Diggins brought up the rear, bravely wielding a notepad and sharp pencil.
“Just as I suspected,” Inspector Diggins declared, looking at Cowley who was struggling against his bandages. “I knew all along the bandages were a disguise.”
After the dust had settled… After Charley had washed the last traces of sand from her hair… After the stolen jewels had been returned and 44 Morningside Place restored to what it considered to be “normal”…Charley and Billy were sitting quietly in the corner of the Last Drop Tavern.
Like in so many of their investigations before, the bizarre and the supernatural had been mixed up with an ordinary commonplace sort of crime in the case of the mummy’s revenge. The Sandman, at the end of the day, was a servant with a grudge. And it had turned out that the Temple of the Seven Stars was located in a real tomb, but in Edinburgh, not ancient Egypt.
Rich men, like Lord Wintersfall, liked to look important even after they had died and spent fortunes building huge monuments in the cemeteries. This particular tomb, built in the Egyptian style, complete with carved palm trees on the front, was in The Grange cemetery, within sight of Lord Wintersfall’s house. Inspector Diggins had found his way there, thanks to the persistence and keen nose of a very special Scottish terrier named Wellington, and a scrap of Billy’s trousers which had given him just enough scent.
Inspector Diggins wasn’t very interested in the truth of the case. He had his suspects safely under lock and key and that was all that mattered to him. He didn’t want to hear any mumbo jumbo about mummies and Egyptian magick. Mrs Whisker, Mr Harris, Mr Humble and Mr Cowley wouldn’t be seeing freedom for quite some time.
“We didn’t get any credit again,” said Charley with a sigh.
“What’s new?” said Billy. “Anyway, we don’t do it for that, do we? That’s not what S.C.R.E.A.M. stands for.”