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Faro’s Ring
Part Three
By: Samuel Hayne
“But I am
Robert Faro, and I wouldn’t be so sure as to when you think you killed me,
Nick. Now let me tell you a story. As you know I have always been a collector
of Egyptian trinkets. Mostly museum replicas, but one time while I was in
La Paz,
Mexico, on
business, I happened across an obscure curio shop with the most curious item.
Seems decades ago a scholar of Egyptian antiquities was murdered in his sleep
in La Paz and
many items in his possession came to be sold on the black market. The shop
owner claimed a certain ring held the secret to immortality. He sold
it to me at a fair price, but I couldn’t get it over the border. Seems the
government was aware of this item and wanted it kept in Mexico. I
disagreed with their decision.”
“What was it?”
Nick croaked. His vision had faded to blackness and all he could see was a
strange white outline of everything in the room.
“You know what
it is.” Faro sucked on his smoldering cigar, hoping the dramatic pause was not
lost on Nick Black’s rotting corpse. “You and Oded delivered it to me the
night you murdered me.”
“The ring!”
Nick felt excitement as the image of the gold band with the blue stone
appeared in his head. He didn’t think his voice conveyed that excitement or
any other emotion, anymore.
“Yes, the
ring.” Faro held out his hand like the Pope, revealing the very ring that Nick
had thought was lost. “You see, Nick, this ring is very magical. I don’t know
too much about the history of it, but it’s safe to say that the pharaoh who
commissioned its creation worshipped Gods older than the earth.” Faro
fearlessly pushed aside one of the Dark Watchers to take the seat next to
rotting Nick and sat down.
“The answer to
your second question is simpler to answer, Nick. This warehouse is my burial
chamber; just like those built in the times of the ancient Egyptians.
When I died, my 'Will' left instructions to place all my favorite possessions
in this tomb so that I could have them in the next life.” Faro pulled out and
lit another cheroot. “I even had the Ammut summoned to keep me company," and
he motioned to the Dark Watchers, “in case you never made your way here.”
Nick’s interest
in the situation was waning, but he asked anyway, “What is…the…answer…to
my...last question?” Nick’s gravely voice was nearly gone.
“Yes, that.”
Robert blew smoke of the cheroot at Nick’s leathery face and he
vaugely recalled the pungent odor of Egyptian tobacco, but it was lost on
him now, since he no longer had a nose. “Nick, let me start by telling
you that your journey to number 249 Arkham Alley did not take place in one
evening. Let me add that I have no idea what year it now is, either. What
I do know is on that Friday night in October, 1975, when 'The Egyptian' pulled
his gun and shot Oded in the chest, he shot you too. But it wasn’t a good
shot. You didn’t die right away. You were able to retrieve Oded’s gun and
shoot both of us.” Faro extinguished the stub of his cigar on a china plate.
He smiled at Nick.
“You were
right, old friend. I did underestimate you. Why didn’t you show that kind of
initiative before that moment? I guess I’ll never know." He shrugged his
shoulders. "Had you and Oded not abandoned your mission and just had the
guts to cross the damn border, I would not have ordered your deaths,” Faro
confessed.
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