Shadows Out of Time

“Thanks for coming,” he said in a low growl. Up close he looked haunted, like dark angels were scouring the streets for him. For all Phillips knew, they were.

“Let’s get this straight,” said Phillips. “I’m not sold on this yet. If you want to employ me, you’ve got your work cut out.”

“Yes, I understand,” said Morgan. He clutched his glass but made no effort to drink from it.

“When you contacted me and said I was one of the few men who had the kind of desert experience you wanted, my initial reaction was to walk away.” Phillips had promised himself he’d never go near a sand pit again, never mind a desert. The things he’d experienced in Egypt a few years back had scared the hell out of him, and he didn’t care who knew.

“You did a good job in the Sahara. You put a stop to something very terrible. Few people know about it. You know how close things came to a disaster.” Morgan leaned nearer, his voice a low rasp. “The Chaos Blade and the gate it went back into.”

Phillips nodded. “So? If whoever’s running you is after the Blade, you’re wasting your time with me. Believe me, you have no idea how dangerous it is.”

“We do, Mr Phillips, that’s the problem. We don’t want the Blade released back into the world. Nor do we want that gate— or any other — opened.” Morgan wiped beads of sweat from his brow and took a tentative sip of his drink.

Phillips studied him uneasily. “The gate is buried deep. No one is ever going to find it. It’s sealed.” He pushed back the images of the desert that tried to squeeze into his mind, and the cloying darkness that came with them. It had taken him a long time to rid himself of his nightmares after he’d returned from Egypt.

Morgan nodded. “We’re less concerned about it. There’s something new. Do you know Sir Conrad Alvington, the archaeological explorer?”

“Only what I read or see on television. He’s always on the hunt for the last place God made, that kind of thing. I don’t know him personally.”

“He’s been in Mauritania for the last six months. Western Sahara.”

Phillips suppressed a shudder. “That may not be the last place God made, but it would be close to it.”

“A month ago, Sir Conrad and the last of his party were arrested and are being held in a jail in Nouakchott, the capital. He managed to get a message out to a friend here in New York. Terrance Carnadine. They’d shared a coupla digs together. It’s Carnadine who wants to hire you.”

Phillips sat back, mentally groaning. He knew Terrance Carnadine. The man had been a loose cannon, a seeker of relics and a hell-raiser to boot. He’d more than once got himself into a tight corner, before he’d finally settled down to a more sensible life as part of the huge Carnadine Industries, run by his sister. These days, she kept him on a tight leash. If he was looking to go back to his old ways, Phillips wasn’t ready to sign up, not by a long chalk.

Morgan continued. “Terrance Carnadine wants to get Sir Conrad out of Mauritania. His own adventuring days are over, but he can fund an expedition.”

“Expedition? You mean extradition?”

“Both. Sir Conrad found something out there in the desert. Something akin to what you found in southwest Egypt. He has no chance of going back to it and dealing with it. The Mauritanians don’t want anyone poking around in those desert wastes. But someone has to do it.”

“You mean me?”

“Do you know the country?”

Phillips let out a short, dry laugh. “ Know it? For God’s sake, man, its own people hardly know it. Almost the entire country is Saharan desert. There’s nothing there. Sand, sand and more sand. You’re talking about one of the most extreme environments on the planet. And you want me to go digging there? I don’t think so.”

“You’d be paid very well.”

“I don’t need the money, or a trip to that kind of madness.”

“You don’t understand,” said Morgan, his face creased in pain. “The gate cannot be allowed to open. The consequences would be too horrific.”

“Gate? Like the one we found?”

“It is potentially linked to others. The one under Mauritania is the prime. The spokes of the wheel turn on it. Open it and the power travels down the spokes, opening more gates. In Europe, Asia, Australia, Antarctica.”

“Then you need a small army to deal with it. It’s way above my skill set. And how the blazes are you going to get anyone in? It’s a Sunni Muslim country and from what I know, Al-Qaeda is very active there. Be like entering a hornet’s nest naked and covered in honey.”

“There are some places even they dare not set foot. There is a way in, though. It follows the market in meteorites.” Morgan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of cloth. He unwrapped it to reveal a gray lump of stone, and handed it to Phillips.

Phillips weighed it. It was unduly heavy for its size.