I began to realize this was a man who believed his actions were reasonable and principled; he saw his cartel as a family, or a kind of brigade, and its rules were based not on violence, but on trust. Most of the kids who came to him were orphaned or from homes so broken by poverty and violence they were better off without them. He gave them something to do, something to define themselves against, and a strict routine with tangible rewards. Most strangely, perhaps, he was proud of the city, and of his position.
As a-now-former Medjay officer, I belonged on the opposite side of everything he stood for, and everything he said. And yet I found myself unable, at times, to challenge the truth of his arguments. But in any case, it was not in my interest to question him further about the less appetizing aspects of his apparently benign underworld tyranny. I only needed to know what he could tell me about the Black Star Gang.
‘They are a mystery, and they are a big problem. The supply of opium is limited, and hard to obtain, and therefore of great value; and so all the Theban gangs have always fought over it. It has been notoriously unreliable. Of course it is smuggled up the Great River, by boat. It is not so difficult to bribe the right men to smuggle the shipments through the port. And the captains take their share willingly. Sometimes the quantities are excellent- three or more shipments in one month. But at times they have dwindled to nothing. Some of us tried to set up better, more consistent supply lines, but it was impossible. The distances were too great. The contacts were obscure. The jars are heavy, and the opium juice is inconvenient to transport. It is a strange world out there, beyond our borders, and mostly our dealers and negotiators do not return.’
‘And now?’ I asked.
‘Now, suddenly, the gang war in the city has exploded again. At first we suspected each other. But soon even the most adamant of my rivals recognized this was the work of a different group. They are nothing like us.’
‘Tell me what you know.’
He sighed, and began to pace the chamber.
‘These killers are like the spirits of the dead. They travel in silence. They destroy everything. They go where they will … and no one escapes or survives,’ he said simply.
‘But how do they do that?’ I wondered.
He shrugged.
‘It is their style. It’s very elegant. And you know, unlike the rest of us, they don’t diversify at all. Gambling, prostitution, illegal smuggling of rare goods, kidnapping-these are all potentially lucrative areas. But as far as I know, they have shown no interest in any of this-’
‘How do they distribute the opium? It’s one thing to import it, and to destroy the competition. It’s another to set up a new distribution system of dealers,’ I said.
He opened his hands wide in agreement.
‘I have no idea. I am hoping you will tell me. Perhaps, when they have wiped out the rest of the opposition, they will offer us a distribution deal. No doubt the terms will not be very acceptable.’
He gazed at me, then leaned back, and roared with laughter.
‘You know something; I feel I could almost like you. You must have some balls, coming in here and talking to me like this.’
I ignored him.
‘Is there anything else you can tell me? The smallest detail might be useful,’ I said.
He pondered the papyrus and the black star.
‘Here in Thebes we are at the end of a long process, a long journey, a chain of many connected businesses. This has never been efficient, but it was always necessary. But it seems to me somehow this gang must have solved that problem. I don’t know how, but I believe they control the whole process from supply to delivery. Perhaps you should think about that. Think about where the chain begins, as well as where it ends.’
‘And where is that?’
He smiled.
‘North.’
‘Everyone knows the opium crop is grown in the badlands between Egypt and the Hittite Empire. So perhaps Canaan? Amurru? Qadesh?’ I said, thinking of the territories that Egypt had struggled to control during the long stalemate of the Hittite wars.
‘I will repeat to you one word, which I hear, coming down to me from far, far away.’
He beckoned me closer.
‘
‘I know what obsidian is. It is the material of looking glasses, and our sharpest knives.’ I interrupted.
Then I remembered the masterful butchery of the decapitations. What if the killer had used an obsidian knife?
‘Obsidian is a
The man stood up. Something in his gaunt face had suddenly changed. He was dangerous again.
‘You should go now. But I will be watching you. So don’t think you can just walk away from this. Do your part. Or else I will show you what happened to our boys could happen to you, too.’
And with that, he screwed up the papyrus with the black star, grinned and swallowed it. And then swiftly he turned, and slashed his knife across the throat of Dedu, the waiting Nubian boy. Dedu gurgled on his own blood, and then his body collapsed at my feet.
The Nubian wiped his knife over my cheeks so that the hot blood trickled down.
‘You are already deep in blood. Remember that.’
11
I had never seen Nakht lost for speech. I had just finished recounting the facts of Khety’s death. He embraced me lightly, and patted me on the shoulder-which surprised me, for he was not given to displays of emotion or intimacy, and he rarely tolerated physical contact. We stood like that, uncertainly, for a moment, and then moved apart, awkwardly. We were in the reception chamber on the first floor of the mansion. It gave on to the courtyard, where his caged birds trilled and water trickled along the crisscross of stone channels that fed the plants.
‘At the times when we most need language to express our feelings, it fails us,’ he said.
‘Silence is fine,’ I replied, curtly. ‘What is there to say?’
He glanced at me, but I was in no mood to apologize or modify my behaviour. He went to a tray, and poured us wine into two handsome goblets. He offered me a place on the inlaid couch, and we sat.
‘I suspect you are intent upon some sort of revenge, in response to this dreadful tragedy?’
‘And?’ I said.
‘Let me counsel you. In moments such as this, we are inclined to allow the animal aspect of our natures to take control. It is a mistake.’
‘Why?’ I demanded.
‘Because revenge can destroy a man as surely as the plague. It seems like a god, so pure and true, and full of its sense of justice and entitlement. But it is truly a monster. It feeds perpetually upon its own pain, and upon any pain it can find. And it can never be satisfied until everything has been destroyed utterly.’
‘And how would you know?’ I snapped.
There was a nasty moment of silence between us. His topaz eyes gazed at me, detached. Sometimes arguing with him was like trying to punch water. It made no difference. And he knew I wanted a fight, and he was not going to give it to me.
‘Death makes us strangers to ourselves,’ he offered, by way of reconciliation.
He rose, and walked away, to look out of the doorway at the beautiful private world of his home.
‘You are right, of course; I know little of grief. I have been fortunate in that respect. Fate has been kind to me. One cannot trust it, of course. We are all vulnerable to misfortune,’ he said.
‘This was not misfortune. It was murder. And I’m going to track them down and then-’
‘Yes, and then what?’ Nakht interrupted, sitting down beside me again. ‘I suppose you thought I would support and encourage you in your righteous revenge? Now that tragedy has struck you personally, in an instant you
