The Jackal Man Read Free Page A

stone jars with animal-headed lids stood
     near the doorway: Neil recognised them as Canopic jars, designed to hold the organs of a mummified body, and the realisation
     of their purpose made him give an involuntary shudder.
    Either side of a massive stone fireplace stood a pair of life-sized Egyptian figures in black and gold, the sort left in tombs
     to keep the dead company. The figures watched his progress with painted eyes as Caroline led him into a book-linedroom, the shelves packed with ancient volumes. The room was cosier than one would expect from the outside appearance
     of the castle with polished oak furniture and rich Turkish rugs on the dark wood floor. Caroline invited him to sit on a worn
     velvet sofa.
    ‘Would you like coffee? I usually have one myself at this time of day.’
    Neil nodded. He felt nervous, although he wasn’t quite sure why, and coffee would give him something to do with his hands.
    He had expected Caroline to tug the tasselled bell pull that hung by the great stone fireplace but, to his surprise, she excused
     herself and left the room. It seemed that she was going to make the coffee herself. He had assumed there’d be some kind of
     housekeeper at least.
    He took advantage of her absence to look around. In the corner stood a grand piano supporting the traditional assortment of
     family photographs – he’d seen a similar arrangement in almost every stately home he’d ever visited. But instead of smiling
     grandchildren and the owner of the house shaking hands with a member of the Royal Family, these photographs were mostly black
     and white. And most of them featured one particular man.
    This man was middle-aged, well built with the kind of weather-beaten good looks normally associated with heroic explorers
     of Queen Victoria’s reign. He sported a fine moustache and in each photograph he posed triumphantly next to some notable Egyptian
     site: at the great pyramid of Cheops; in front of the mortuary temple of Rameses II; dwarfed by a colossal statue of a long-dead
     pharaoh. There were photographs of him with other men wearing light suits and pith helmets flanked by native Egyptians in
     theirflowing robes, some smiling, some sullen. These were images of a more romantic age of flamboyant gentleman amateurs and great
     discoveries – a world away from the type of archaeology Neil knew.
    He had heard of Sir Frederick Varley, of course. His name had cropped up occasionally at University but, as the topic of Egyptology
     hadn’t featured heavily in the syllabus he’d chosen to follow, he knew only the bare facts about the great man’s achievements.
     Varley had financed various expeditions to the Valley of the Kings and he had been a keen participant in the excavations,
     although he always employed professional archaeologists to do the scholarly work and locals to do the physical digging.
    However, for all his efforts, Varley had never experienced the glory of a really big find: he had been no Lord Carnarvon discovering
     Tutankhamen’s virtually intact tomb. But he had a respectable record none the less, including the discovery of the tombs of
     a twentieth-dynasty queen, complete with intact sarcophagus, and the richly decorated tomb of a chief musician in the court
     of Amenhotep II when the culture of the New Kingdom was at its peak. For a gentleman amateur, Frederick Varley hadn’t done
     too badly.
    Neil walked slowly around the room. Most of the books around the walls were connected in some way with ancient Egypt and there
     were several small glass display cases containing jewels and amulets. All, no doubt, taken from tomb; objects intended to
     adorn the dead. Neil had always felt that the Egyptians had been obsessed by death and the preservation of the body for the
     afterlife: perhaps that’s why he’d preferred other branches of his chosen profession.
    ‘I see you’re admiring my great-grandfather’s collection.’
    Caroline’s voice made Neil jump. He turned