novelraw Chapter 180: The Orient Express
Chapter 180: The Orient Express
Sir Henderson’s “invitation” ended the Iron Triangle’s brief, pleasant respite, and in no uncertain terms pressed the start button for their trip to Egypt.
The matter left Lin Jie feeling a bit helpless, but remembering that Ethan had once helped him, he accepted the summons willingly.
Three days later, at Paris Lyon Station, a quietly tense “meeting” was taking place.
When Lin Jie arrived at the association’s secret waiting room on the station’s second floor together with William and Julian, who had just returned from the countryside and the library, the person they had expected to meet only in Cairo was already waiting there.
Ethan sat alone in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the busy platform.
He wore a custom-made, light-beige top-quality wool hunting travel outfit, standing in stark contrast to the hurried, ordinary travelers around him.
A cup of expensive Blue Mountain coffee, now cold, sat before him, and beside him leaned two custom gun cases reinforced with heavy leather and brass, clearly worth a small fortune.
“Good, our honored sir has arranged everything for us.”
Ethan turned his head, a self-mocking smile in his eyes.
“He was even too lazy to write more lines for our ‘coincidental meeting’ script.”His words instantly broke the polite awkwardness among the four of them.
“At least he picked us a fairly decent trip.”
Julian, the French scholar who always put “style” first, shrugged and pointed to the massive vehicle quietly docked on the VIP platform outside.
It was the Orient Express, famed among Europe’s high society, operated by the Belgian International Sleeping Car Company, a symbol of luxurious romance and adventurous spirit!
Its deep blue steel body shone with the proud gloss of the industrial age under the sunlight.
Behind every spotless brass window frame peeked an interior of velvet, rosewood, and crystal chandeliers.
This conveyance was a statement of identity and status.
It was Sir Henderson’s first gesture of dignity prepared for the team that would represent I.A.R.C. and travel to a land hostile to outsiders.
Accompanied by a long, penetrating whistle, the iron dragon slowly pulled out of Paris.
It would carry four passengers, each nursing their own burdens but bound by the same fate, on a journey spanning thousands of kilometers across the European continent.
The train’s interior luxury exceeded Lin Jie’s imagination.
Soft Persian rugs absorbed all noise, and well-trained attendants in sharp uniforms delivered chilled champagne before you even felt thirsty.
The air carried the decadent scent of Cuban cigars, French perfume, and fine leather.
Yet beneath this intoxicating veneer of comfort, Lin Jie sensed a current of tension bubbling.
They were placed together in the same carriage, in a luxury compartment with a private salon and two sleeping chambers.
Sir Henderson seemed to want to use this long, secluded voyage to force a deep and necessary internal adjustment for this complex “joint operation team.”
At the core of that adjustment was clearly Ethan and the cursed diamond he brought, hanging like a shadow over them all.
On the first night of the journey, while the train ran through the night-shrouded plains of southern Germany, Ethan finally told the Iron Triangle the full story of the Egyptian inner demon that had tormented him for years.
He first emptied a glass of amber-colored, expensive Scotch in one gulp.
Then in a weary, confessional tone, he exposed to the three “judges” the darkest original sin of his family that had been covered by wealth and glory.
He told of his great-great-great-grandfather, the Redgrave baron who had followed the “Lionheart” Richard on the Third Crusade, and how, on a sandstorm-filled night, he accidentally stumbled into an underground temple devoted to the serpent god Apophis, long forgotten by the world.
He told how his ancestor was enchanted by a blue diamond, embedded on the temple’s altar, that absorbed light like a “solidified night.”
He told how his ancestor renounced faith in God, murdered two Templar companions, and claimed the relic—an object that should have belonged to the Descendants of Apophis—and smuggled it back to England.
“From that day on, the curse descended on the Redgrave bloodline along with the wealth.”
A bitter, ironic smile crossed Ethan’s face.
“Every head of the family who possessed the diamond achieved miraculous commercial success. Yet without exception, they all encountered bizarre and terrifying ‘accidents’ at the peak of their glory.”
“My great-grandfather was shot dead by his hunting companions who mistook him for prey during a fox hunt.”
“And my father…”
Ethan paused when he mentioned the name.
“He, five years ago, the year I had just graduated from Eton, led an ambitious archaeological expedition to Egypt organized by the British Museum, intent on finding that legendary tomb of Tutankhamun.”
“He wanted a great discovery to cast an academic gloss over our family’s tawdry history.”
“My father’s best friend, David Carnarvon—the younger brother of the present Earl Carnarvon—went with him as his assistant.”
“We didn’t find Tutankhamun. Instead, deep in the Valley of the Kings, we found an unmarked tomb not on any map.”
“And that tomb’s curse was deadlier than any pharaoh’s.”
Ethan drained the remaining Scotch from his glass;
the alcohol seemed to give him the courage to continue.
“There were no gold or treasures in that tomb, only a massive sarcophagus carved from a single block of obsidian.”
“My father was like a man possessed. He believed there was a mysterious ‘resonance’ between that sarcophagus and the family diamond. He thought that returning the diamond to its rightful place would lift our family’s centuries-old curse.”
“David…”
Tears glistened in Ethan’s eyes.
“He was my best friend, and the only one of the three of us who remained sane. He tried to stop my father’s madness. He believed that diamond was an extremely dangerous source of spiritual contamination.”
“He tried to seize the diamond from my father’s hands despite the warnings.”
“And then…”
Ethan’s voice broke at that moment.
His blue eyes filled with an indelible terror.
“Then I saw it—pure darkness surge out from the diamond! It coiled around David like an invisible viper!”
“I heard him scream! His body shriveled before my eyes! It was as if all the water, the blood, and the life in him were instantly sucked dry by the diamond’s dark power!”
“In mere seconds, my friend had become a dried husk.”
Ethan could say no more. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.
“And I…”
“I stood beside him and did nothing.”
“I only watched him die.”
“And then… I turned and ran, driven by fear.”
A long silence enveloped the salon.
Beneath the flippant exterior of this heaven-blessed scion lay a festering, pus-filled wound.
A heart demon born of betraying a close friend.
The train ran through the night, the wheels striking the rails with a rhythmic, hypnotic clack.
After such an information-heavy conversation, the carriage atmosphere grew heavy.
Ethan sank into recollection, William quietly polished his Colt, and Julian frowned over a Ptolemaic tome.
Feeling stifled, Lin Jie rose alone and left the compartment for the Orient Express’s famous dining car.
He needed time alone and a cup of coffee devoid of story.
Attendants in impeccable attire moved gracefully among tables draped in white linen, while the scent of roasted lamb drifted through the air.
Just as he prepared to signal for service, his peripheral vision was drawn to two passengers at a nearby table.
They were an older man and a younger boy, appearing as a teacher and student on an academic trip.
The elder looked around fifty, with a thick brown beard and an explorer’s jacket worn and sweat-stained from travel.
He was bent over charts filled with strange symbols, muttering about stratigraphy and pottery sequences—an archetypal obsessed scholar.
But what truly caught Lin Jie’s attention was the boy across from him.
He looked about fifteen or sixteen, yet carried a composed, scholarly air beyond his years.
He wore deep prescription gold-rimmed glasses and a threadbare but neat tweed suit, standing out among the mostly wealthy passengers.
Before him were no dishes, only a cold cup of tea and an ancient book bound in heavy leather.
Lin Jie’s gaze slipped to the book’s cover, his black pupils narrowing.
He saw the title stamped on the leather in an old sacred script.
—The Egyptian Book of the Dead.
The bearded professor, finishing a calculation, spoke to the boy with a slightly brisk tone, “Don’t keep reading only those myths and curses. Look more at the ‘Measurements of Pyramids and Temples’ I gave you. That’s where the real truth lies.”
The boy merely smiled and shook his head. He adjusted his glasses and answered with a reflective maturity, “But Professor Petrie, don’t you think myths are history dressed as art? Perhaps the truths we seek hide within these seemingly absurd curses?”
While Lin Jie listened intently, the boy seemed to notice his stare.
He looked up from the ancient Book of the Dead;
a hint of surprise passed through the gentle eyes behind his thick lenses when he saw Lin Jie’s distinctly Eastern features.
He raised his cup of tea in a small salute, acknowledging Lin Jie’s attention.
Then, with a faint Oxford accent, he smiled and spoke in flawless English.
“Good evening, sir.”
“You look as if you’re interested in that land of shifting sands, gods, and pharaohs’ curses as well.”
He closed the heavy book and politely extended his right hand.
“My name is Howard Carter.”