Heart of the Pharoah - Dave Wolverton - Paperback

A Stranger in the Dark London1937 Thunder boomed outside twelve-year-old Alex O'Connell's home, waking him from his sleep. As it faded in the distance, he heard a steady thumping from downstairs. Someone was pounding on the front door. For half a moment he waited for his parents to answer, then remembered that they were gone for the evening and wouldn't be back until late. He ran to the window and looked down. On the cobblestone lane in front of the house was a horse-drawn hearse. Two brawny men were trying to wrestle a casket out of the back. "What the devil?" Alex mouthed. Was this some kind of joke? It was Allhallows Eve, after all, and it seemed like just the kind of prank some of his mum's students at Bembridge might pull. She had recently accepted a post at the college teaching Egyptology and had moved the family back to London, much to Alex's disappointment. He missed the warmth of Egypt, a place where the skies were more likely to drench you in warm sunlight than cold showers. From the front door, the pounding came more fiercely. A deep-voiced man shouted, "Halloo. Anyone there? I must speak with Mr. and Mrs. O'Connell. It's the utmost emergency!" Alex flipped a light switch but found that the power was out. He threw a bathrobe over his pajamas, rushed downstairs, and flung open the door. A heavyset man was about to bat the door again with his mahogany walking stick. Alex cringed as it stopped inches from his face. "So sorry, young fellow," the man said. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles that were fogged and wet, along with a gray bowler hat and cloak. "Are your parents home?" "No," Alex said. "They went to see a play downtown." "Oh, bother," the man sighed. "I need to get an urgent message to them." "I can give it to them," Alex offered. "No, no, no," the man muttered. "This is a matter of great importance . . . to all of England, I daresay. I shan't entrust it to some woolly-headed boy. Such matters are far beyond the understanding of mere children." Alex glowered. "Some children understand things better than most adults." "Hah, well said!" the man replied. "Well said indeed. With retorts like that, you could go into politics." He glanced back at the hearse. The pallbearers had just pulled the casket out and were now trying to lower it to the ground. In the sitting room, the grandfather clock began to chime. Lightning blasted a tree on the hill, and for a moment the man's face was limned in light. Alex recognized it immediately. "Winston Churchill, from Parliament?" Alex blurted out in surprise. "Please come in. My parents would have my head if they knew I kept you waiting outside. I don't think they'll be much longer." Churchill looked up at the pouring rain, "I don't mind if I do." He shouted to the pallbearers, "Careful with that casket." The pallbearers grunted and panted. Alex led Churchill to the sitting room. "I'm sorry about the lights," Alex said. "The power must be out." The house was three hundred years old, and there were oil lamps in brackets attached to the wall. The lamps served mostly as ornaments, but now Alex took one down to light it and stared at Churchill in awe. "I recognized your face from the Sunday News," Alex told him. "I listen to your speeches on the radio all the time." "How nice," Churchill said, arching his brow as if in disbelief. "Although some don't call them speeches so much as tirades." "Oh, but I agree entirely with your views," Alex said. "My parents and I talk about them all the time. We've been especially tWolverton, Dave is the author of 'Heart of the Pharoah - Dave Wolverton - Paperback' with ISBN 9780553487558 and ISBN 0553487558.