The Eleventh Plague Read Online Free PDF

‘Well…I mean, when I was a younger man.’
    ‘And what am I to do whilst you are gone, boss?’ the diminutive Inuit asked.
    ‘You carry on as normal, of course. You’re my deputy, Butter. I’m relying on you to hold the troops together in my absence.’
    ‘But…what if I cannot live up to your example, boss?’ asked Butter.
    ‘I wouldn’t expect you to,’ smiled Quaint, with a pat on the Inuit’s head. ‘But you’ll be perfectly fine. You won’t be on your own. Ruby and Prometheus will be about if you need them, and there’s always Yin, Yang and Kipo too. And then of course if you get really desperate you can always rely on the clowns…although for the life of me I can’t imagine for what.’
    Butter cocked his head. ‘But why must Madame Destine go also?’
    ‘To keep me from making a fool of myself, keep me on the right track, and to stop me from getting myself killed,’ Quaint said, with a grin. ‘Although, not necessarily in that order.’
    Butter rose from the bunk and threw his arms around theconjuror, his stature bringing him just past Quaint’s waist. The tall man looked down in surprise at such an unexpected display of affection.
    ‘I think that I will miss you much, boss,’ Butter sniffed.
    ‘As I will you, my Inuit friend,’ replied Quaint softly. ‘As I will you all.’
    ‘You will promise me something, yes?’ Butter asked, looking up at Quaint eagerly.
    ‘Anything!’
    Butter gripped his fists tight together. ‘Numbers one, you come back alive.’
    ‘And number two?’ asked Quaint.
    ‘Numbers two, you punish the Hades Consortium for their bad plot.’
    ‘You have my word, Butter,’ said Cornelius Quaint, ‘on both counts.’

CHAPTER VII
The Terminal Introduction
    T HE D ECEMBER WEATHER pulled no punches as Madame Destine and Cornelius Quaint stepped out of the horse-drawn carriage onto the crowded concourse that ran parallel to Dover’s docks. The chill wind whipped in from the English Channel and scratched at Destine’s cheeks, forcing the Frenchwoman to tighten her white headscarf.
    Quaint paid the cab driver and looked up at the ice-white SS Silver Swan moored to the wharf, one of the first passenger steamships in existence. The tickets had cost Quaint an arm and a leg, but he would have paid the price twice over if it secured a swift passage to Egypt. A sailing vessel would have taken far too long for his needs, whereas the Silver Swan boasted that she could do the trip in half the time. It was a proud boast, but one that Quaint was willing to place his faith in. After all, time was a commodity in very short supply. With the mention of Al Fekesh, Egypt’s most notorious port, it meant that intercepting the poison was an even greater priority. Little did the conjuror know that at that very moment, the poison was nowhere near Al Fekesh, or even anywhere near Egypt. In fact, it was as far away from Egypt as Quaint was.
    Almost exactly to the yard, as it goes.
    Heinrich Nadir pushed roughly past Quaint, jogging his elbow intentionally, as he bustled into the terminal dragging a large wooden trunk on a trolley.
    Quaint gave him a scathing look. ‘Excuse me !’ he snapped, feeling Madame Destine’s grip tighten on his arm.
    Nadir spun around and his beady eyes flicked up and down, measuring his broad-shouldered mark. ‘So sorry, sir! My trolley has a life of its own. You are sailing today onboard the Silver Swan I take it?’
    ‘ Oui , that is so,’ Madame Destine confirmed.
    ‘ Ausgezeichnet !’ said Nadir, rubbing his hands. ‘Then I shall at least be guaranteed scintillating company upon the long voyage.’
    ‘She gets that from me, thanks all the same,’ said Quaint, taking an instant dislike to the German – and rightly so.
    Madame Destine, on the other hand, prided herself on her propriety, and duly curtseyed by way of an apology. ‘Please ignore my companion’s lack of manners, monsieur. We have had a long and uncomfortable journey from London, and