Darren Craske
The Eleventh Plague

CHAPTER I

The Eager Pupil

FANTOMA, EGYPT, 1853

'IS IT TRUE, teacher? Is Antoine Renard dead?' The young woman stormed into the cavernous chamber. The meeting room was almost pitch-black save for a row of torches affixed to a far wall, and their flames snapped at her as she walked past.

The older man sitting at the oval-shaped table barely acknowledged her arrival. His grey eyes watched the olive-skinned woman scrape a wooden chair across the stone floor and slump herself into it before he spoke, a voice coated with a thick Italian accent. 'Si, la mia allieva. It is true,' he said.

'Then my operation here in Egypt is sunk! If Renard is dead, then so is everything that we worked so hard to procure in London. That poison was essential for what I have planned for the Nile.' Spying the look of discontent on the man's face, the woman quickly lowered her guilt-ridden eyes to the floor. 'I have failed, teacher.'

'Almost,' growled the man. 'Prior to his premature death, Renard was able to dispatch the consignment of poison into another operative's hands. The Hades Consortium has more than one dog in our kennel.' Without warning, the Italian slammed his fists down onto the marble table, sending a glass carafe crashing to the floor. 'London was a mistake, Jocasta! I was against it from the start! You allowed Renard too much slack on his leash, and look what happened as a result. He derailed a delicate operation that took months to plan – and for what? A petty feud with a circus magician of all things!'

The woman's eyes flared. 'But surely you do not think that I had any power over that, teacher. Antoine Renard was always reckless!'

'As are you, Jocasta, but as my protegee I keep you tamed – at least, that is what I tell the Hades Consortium's inner stratum. I am quickly running out of favour with the council, and more rides on the success of your plot than just your own fortunes. You have a lot of ground to make up.' The Italian twisted his bulk awkwardly in his seat as if constricted by a straitjacket, and he washed his tongue over his pearly teeth. 'It was not just Renard that we lost in London, remember? The Hades Consortium had been planning Commissioner Dray's ascension within Scotland Yard for years! Sir George will not be best pleased to hear of his son's death.'

All colour drained from the woman's face. 'He…does not know?'

'Sir George is busy with Consortium affairs in India at present. I do not think the news has reached his ears. Perhaps you would like to be the one to tell him, cara mia. After all, it was your botched operation that was to blame for his son's death.'

'Surely you are more experienced in reporting failure to Sir George, teacher – or need I mention China?' said the woman, with a vague smile. 'It is not just me that has lost cultivated resources of late.'

The Italian fumed. 'That bloated Chinaman was a stubborn fool. There was no way that he would allow us to encroach upon his boundaries, especially after what happened in the old days. There is bad blood between Cho-zen Li and me, let us leave it there. If I were you, I would be more concerned with my own affairs.'

'I promise you, this project will be a success!' said the eager pupil, her smile now in full bloom. 'On New Year's Eve, the River Nile will be awash with the deadliest poison known to man. Egypt will be on its knees begging for mercy, and there are no circus magicians to get in the way this time.'