He placed his left hand upon her cheek, and pinched it gently. His skin was chill to the touch, and she let out a little animal whine.
‘I think you know what I’m talking about. To be honest, it was a blessing for him when the end came.’
Her legs went weak. She would have fallen had Herod not held on to her. She tried to push him away, but he was stronger than her. She began to weep, but suddenly his hand was in her hair again, pulling her head back so far that she heard her neck crack.
‘None of that,’ said Herod. ‘No time to grieve now. I’m a busy man, and time isn’t on my side. We have things to do, and then you can mourn him all you like.’
He led her to the basement door. He reached out his right hand and placed it against the wood.
‘You know what’s down there?’
Karen shook her head. She was still crying, but there was a numbness to her grief, like pain fighting to break through the diminishing effect of an anesthetic.
‘You’re lying again,’ said Herod, ‘but in a way you’re also telling the truth, because I don’t think that you do know what’s down there, not really. But you and I, we’re going to find out together. Where’s the key?’
Slowly, she reached into the pocket of her robe and handed the key to him.
‘I don’t want to go back in the basement,’ she said. She thought that she sounded like a little girl, sobbing and wheedling.
‘Well, missy, I can’t very well leave you up here all alone, can I?’ he replied. He spoke reasonably, even kindly, but this was the same man who had called her a whore earlier; who had left marks in her skin where his fingers had dug into her shoulder; who had torn her earlobe; who had killed Joel and left her alone again. ‘But you don’t need to worry, not when you’ve got me to take care of you.’ He handed the key back to her. ‘Now go ahead and open it. I’ll be right behind you.’
To encourage her further, he showed her his gun, and she did as she was told, her hand trembling only slightly as she inserted the key in the lock. He stepped back as she opened the door, revealing the darkness beyond.
‘Where’s the light?’ he asked.
‘It doesn’t work,’ she said. ‘It broke when I was down there.’ They broke it, she almost added. They wanted me to trip and fall, so that I’d be forced to stay down there with them.
Herod looked around, and saw the flashlight lying on the floor. He bent to retrieve it, and as he did so she kicked him hard on the side of the head, sending him to his knees. She ran for the front door, but she was still fumbling for the latch when he was on her. She cried out, and he covered her mouth with his hand and pulled her backward, then tossed her to the floor. She landed on her back, and before she could raise herself up he was kneeling on her chest. His hand reached into her mouth and grabbed her tongue so hard she thought that he was going to rip it out. She couldn’t speak, but her eyes begged him not to do it.
‘Last warning,’ he said. The wound on his lip had torn and was starting to bleed. ‘I don’t cause pain without reason, and I have no desire to hurt you more than I have already, but if you make me do it, then I will. Cross me again and I’ll feed your tongue to the rats, then leave you to choke on your own blood. Do you understand?’
Karen gave the faintest of nods, fearful of moving her head too much and tearing her tongue. He released his grip, and she tasted him in her mouth, sharp and chemical. She got to her feet, and he turned on the flashlight. ‘Seems to be working fine now,’ he said and gestured for her to go ahead of him.
‘You first,’ he said. ‘Keep your hands away from your body. Don’t touch anything but the stair rail. If you make any sudden moves while we’re down there, it will go hard on you.’
Reluctantly, she moved forward. The beam of the flashlight illuminated the stairs. Herod let her get three steps ahead of him, then followed. When she got halfway down she paused and looked to her left, where the darkness was deepest and the gold box rested on its shelf.
‘Why have you stopped?’ asked Herod.
‘It’s back there,’ she said.
‘What is?’
‘The gold box. That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it: the gold box?’
‘You’re going to show me exactly where it is.’
‘There are things down there,’ she said. ‘I saw them.’
‘I told you: you’re in no danger. Keep going.’
She continued descending until she reached floor level. Herod joined her, the flashlight searching the corners of the basement. Shadows jumped, but they were caused by the beam, and she might almost have been persuaded that she had imagined the earlier forms were it not for the fact that the whispering had returned. This time, it sounded different: puzzled, perhaps, but expectant.
She led him to where the treasures lay, but he showed no interest in the exposed seals, or the beautiful marble head. He had eyes only for the box. He allowed the light to play upon it for a time, tutting softly at some of the damage that it had incurred, the small dents and scuffs that marred the decoration on its sides, then pointed to a canvas bag that lay on top of some old suitcases stacked beside the shelf.
‘Pick it up and put it in that bag,’ he told her. ‘And be careful.’
She didn’t want to touch it again, but equally she wanted all of this to be over. He would leave when he had the box. If he was a man of his word, he would let her live. Despite her fear of him, she believed that he did not want to kill her. Had he wished to do so, she would be dead already.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What’s in there?’
‘What did you see when you were down here?’ Herod replied.
‘I saw shapes. They were deformed. Like men except . . . not men.’
‘No, not men,’ said Herod. ‘Have you heard of Pandora’s box?’
She nodded. ‘It was a box that contained evil, and it was opened and all of that evil escaped into the world.’
‘Very good,’ said Herod, ‘except it was a pot, a pithos, not a box. The term “Pandora’s box” derives from a mistranslation into Latin.’
He was glad that there was someone with him, now that he had that for which he had long been searching. He wanted to explain. He wanted someone else to understand its importance.
‘This,’ he continued, ‘is a true Pandora’s box, a prison of gold. Seven chambers, each with seven locks symbolizing the gates to the netherworld.’ He pointed to the arachnid clasps. ‘The locks are shaped like spiders because it was a spider that protected the prophet Mohammed from assassins by weaving a web in front of the mouth of the cave in which he was hiding with Abu Bakr. The men who constructed the box hoped that the spider might protect them in turn. As for what the box contains, well, let’s call them ancient spirits, almost as old as the Captain himself. Almost.’
‘They’re bad,’ said Karen. She shuddered. ‘I felt it from them.’
‘Oh, that they are,’ said Herod. ‘They’re very bad indeed.’
‘But what are you going to do with it?’
‘I’m going to open it and set them free,’ said Herod, speaking as if to a child.
Karen stared at him. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Because that’s what the Captain wants, and what the Captain wants, the Captain gets. Now pick up the box and put it in the bag.’
She shook her head. Herod drew his gun and placed it against her lips.
‘I have what I want,’ he said. ‘I can kill you, or we can both live. It’s your choice.’
Reluctantly, she lifted the box. Once again, she felt it vibrate in her hands. There was a tapping from inside it, as though a rodent were trapped in there, scratching vainly at the lid. It very nearly caused her to drop the box. Herod hissed in vexation, but said nothing. Carefully, she placed it in the canvas bag, then pulled the zipper closed. She tried to hand it to him, but he shook his head.
‘I’ll let you carry it,’ he said. ‘Go on. We’re nearly done.’
She led the way up the stairs, Herod close behind her this time, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder and the gun at her back. When she reached the living room, she stopped.
‘Keep—’ Herod began to say, before he saw what Karen had seen. There were three men in the room, all armed, their guns now pointing at his head.
‘Let her go,’ I said.