The Death Mask Murders

by Gabriel Farago

  ‘Tour? What tour?’ asked Jack, frowning.

  ‘Let me answer that,’ said Lola, stepping in, as Isis seemed a little uncomfortable. ‘That’s my idea. We all saw the huge success of Isis’s concert in Bogota in July. So I thought, why not put together a South American tour for Isis and the Time Machine in support of the return of the lost treasure, and raise awareness, and money, for the project?’

  ‘What an excellent idea!’ said Jack, who could see where this was going. ‘As we’ve seen, Isis is incredibly popular in South America. And besides, a tour would do her good. All big egos need a little massaging from time to time.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack. I knew I could count on you,’ said Isis, relieved by the levity and the way the suggested tour had been received. ‘I can dig out my old feathered temple costumes you so admired and recycle them. I only hope they still fit.’

  ‘All jokes aside,’ said Sir Charles, ‘such a tour could be immensely useful and could be of great help with the third part of our strategy.’

  ‘Third part?’ asked Jack.

  Sir Charles adjusted his bow tie. He often did that in court when he collected his thoughts and needed a little time. It was an endearing habit well known to his friends and colleagues.

  ‘The third component of our strategy is political. In my view, this could easily turn out to be the most effective weapon in our arsenal, because it will give us a unique platform for presenting our arguments. It will add credibility and reach a worldwide audience.’

  ‘Could you please elaborate?’ said Celia.

  ‘Certainly. I think as part of our strategy, we should involve UNESCO straight away and prepare a proposal.’

  ‘What kind of proposal?’ asked Jack.

  ‘As you know, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization – it goes something like this on its website – seeks to build peace, eradicate poverty through international cooperation, intercultural dialogue, education, the sciences, culture, and communication.’

  ‘That’s quite a mouthful,’ said Jack. ‘And how exactly are you intending to use this?’

  Smiling, Sir Charles turned to Isis. Jack had just given him the opening to allow Isis to take centre stage. ‘Georgie,’ – Sir Charles always called Isis ‘Georgie’ because her real name was George Edward Elms, and Lord Elms since her father’s death in 2011 – ‘could you please tell us what you have in mind?’

  ‘As you know, I am bankrolling the salvage. Profesor Chavero here is in charge and will document the find according to accepted archaeological principles. He has an outstanding reputation and is, in my view, the best man for the job. He, and the Museo Nacional de Antropologia, the largest museum in Mexico visited by millions each year, will stand behind this venture and give it professional standing and prestige in political and academic circles. As part of our plan to return the treasure to Cajamarca, I would like to conduct an international design competition for a suitable museum to be built to house the legendary Llanganates treasure on the site of Atahualpa’s imprisonment, El Cuarto del Rescate, the Ransom Room.’

  ‘What a wonderful idea,’ said Chavero, who had heard this for the first time.

  ‘My foundation will finance the construction of the museum, which hopefully will become an iconic building like the Grand Egyptian Museum being built right now close to the Giza Pyramid complex. That is a UNESCO site that incorporates the Great Sphinx and the Giza Necropolis. This could become something similar, and attract millions of visitors each year.’

  ‘That’s incredible,’ said Celia. ‘And you want me to write about all this and break the story?’

  ‘Absolutely. I couldn’t think of anyone better. What you did with the lost Monet and the auction was outstanding,’ said Isis.

  ‘Involving UNESCO from the beginning would be a good idea,’ continued Sir Charles. ‘In fact, placing the Llanganates treasure into the custody of UNESCO may be the best way to go, and then having the site of the museum declared a UNESCO World Heritage site would give our plan the best chance of success. I have friends in UNESCO,’ said Sir Charles, lowering his voice, ‘and I know they would be delighted to assist us in this. This could easily turn out to be one of UNESCO’s most important and prestigious projects, made possible because of the tenacity of Jack and his friends in finding the treasure in the first place, and Isis’s generosity to finance its recovery, and build a suitable place to house and display it. In short, a perfect partnership.’

  ‘I’m speechless,’ said Chavero.

  ‘What do you think, guys?’ said Isis.

  ‘If Charles thinks we can pull this off, then it certainly has my vote. I have no doubt that the others who were involved in solving this mystery would feel the same way. I am specifically talking about Tristan, Francesca Bartolli, Dupree and Darrieux.’

  ‘We still have a long way to go,’ said Sir Charles, ‘but I think we can get there.’

  ‘In that case, I would like to propose a toast,’ said Jack. He stood up and pointed to Morro Castle with his glass.

  ‘To begin with, I would like to suggest that we change the name of our find from Llanganates Treasure to Ruminahui’s Ransom. After all, it is only because of the courage of that Inca warrior that the treasure survived and didn’t fall into the hands of the rapacious conquerors. At least not straight away. What do you think, guys?’

  ‘I’m all for it,’ said Isis, standing up as well.

  ‘Much more appropriate,’ said Chavero, straightening his moustache.

  ‘Certainly has a much better ring to it,’ said Celia.

  ‘In that case,’ said Jack, lifting his glass, ‘may Ruminahui’s Ransom finally return to where it belongs, and bring much-deserved self-esteem and recognition to a proud people who have lost so much. To Ruminahui’s Ransom!’

  67

  Cajamarca: 26 July 2019

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ said Isis, pivoting slowly in front of a mirror inside one of the vans used by the television crew.

  ‘Stunning,’ said Lola, helping Isis straighten her tight-fitting dress. Inspired by the traditional chaplet worn by the Sapa Inca as King of Cusco, the dress was made of exquisite layers of multicoloured braid and red tassels affixed to gold tubes.

  ‘Losing those few kilos definitely helped, don’t you think?’

  ‘Absolutely; you look fabulous.’

  Beginning the South American Ruminahui’s Ransom concert tour in Cajamarca by announcing the winner of the international museum design competition sponsored by Isis had been an inspired idea. And to do so on the anniversary of Atahualpa’s murder was a masterstroke that brought the historic aspects of the occasion into focus.

  Jack had suggested this after the release of his book – The Death Mask Murders – in Mexico City one month earlier. Because of Celia’s articles in the New York Times about Jack and Isis, and the historic find off Heart Island, the book launch inside the Museo Nacional de Antropologia had attracted huge media attention around the world. Everyone wanted to know more about the fabulous Ruminahui’s Ransom treasure, the Cajamarca Museum design competition, and Isis’s upcoming South American tour to promote the return of the treasure to Peru.

  Arranged by Profesor Chavero, the televised book launch was cleverly used to showcase a few stunning pieces of the treasure and introduce it to the public. As Jack’s book dealt with the extraordinary journey of the treasure and its discovery, this was most appropriate as it prepared the way for the planned handover of Ruminahui’s Ransom to Cajamarca and its people as soon as the new museum was ready.

  Sir Charles’ UNESCO campaign had been surprisingly successful. After some complex negotiations, a great deal of lobbying and several court cases, it had been agreed that the treasure would be housed temporarily in the Mexican museum under the auspices of UNESCO, but supervised by Profesor Chavero and his team. Chavero, together with archaeologists from Peru who had joined his team, were documenting the thousands of gold artefacts retrieved from the wreck, and were painstakingly res
toring them to their former glory after four hundred and eighty-five years under water; a daunting task and not for the fainthearted.

  ‘Wow!’ said Jack, who had been standing quietly in the background with Tristan. ‘This is even better than the costume you wore when we first met.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘No question.’

  ‘So, what’s the drill? You know I hate making speeches. I’m a musician, remember? My mind’s on tomorrow’s concert, not this!’

  Jack looked at Lola and winked. ‘All you have to do is look fabulous, announce the winner, and lay the foundation stone. I’ll do the rest. A few local dignitaries will be present, but definitely no crowds as this is mainly a television event, preparing the way for your concert in Lima tomorrow. Sold out months ago, just like all the others ...’

  ‘That’s a relief!’ said Isis, adjusting her hair. ‘Good to know that I’m still popular down here.’

  Tristan tried hard not to laugh.

  ‘Tonight’s merely a tribute to your philanthropy,’ continued Jack, ‘featuring the museum design competition and marking the beginning of construction. Small private function tonight, cheering crowds tomorrow. All part of the tour. I understand that some kind of performance by indigenous locals is planned, no doubt to entertain us.’

  Isis took a deep breath. ‘The things an artist has to do. All right, guys, let’s go.’

  A small wooden stage had been erected directly in front of El Cuarto del Rescate, the Ransom Room. According to the competition brief, the historic Ransom Room had to be the centrepiece of the new museum complex. As soon as Isis and Jack stepped onto the stage and were welcomed by the mayor, the haunting sounds of flutes and panpipes made of bone began to drift across the empty square, lit entirely by torches. Shaped like a human skull, a large ceramic brazier stood in the centre of the square, which had been closed to the public. Flames darting out of the eyes and mouth gave the skull an eerie, almost lifelike appearance.

  After a brief welcome by the mayor, Isis announced the winner – a Swedish architect well known for his Gaudiesque style of extravagant shapes and unique use of materials – and unveiled a model of the stunning design as the TV cameras zoomed in. Then Jack stepped forward and made a short speech about the lost treasure’s remarkable journey. He had brought the iridium piece with Baudin’s engraved landmarks with him up on stage, and used it to illustrate the story. He had done something similar during the recent book launch to great effect, as the intriguing artefact had attracted a lot of media attention.

  As Jack made a point and held up the piece of stardust, a group of Quechua men wearing traditional dress – loincloths and simple tunics – began to dance around the brazier, their athletic bodies casting strange shadows against the ancient stone walls of the unassuming building. Moving slowly out of the shadows, a group of drummers moved into the circle of light surrounding the brazier, and joined in the dance.

  Mesmerised by the beat of the drums echoing across the square, Tristan glimpsed fleeting images of a brutal slaughter four hundred and eighty-five years earlier, which had humiliated a king and defeated an empire.

  Then one of the dancers walked up to Jack, took him by the hand and guided him towards the brazier. Smiling, Jack followed and was immediately surrounded by the dancers, who formed a protective circle around him as the drum beat intensified.

  ‘The chosen one has returned,’ chanted the dancers in Quechua. ‘The time has come!’

  Tristan turned to the mayor standing next to him on the stage. ‘What are they saying?’ he asked.

  ‘This is an important local ceremony,’ said the mayor, sidestepping the question. ‘Very soon the Villaq Umm will arrive and all will become clear.’

  ‘Who is the Villaq Umm?’

  ‘A high priest. A direct descendant of Atahualpa and the guardian of ... here he comes now, look.’

  A strange sense of wonder descended on Tristan as he watched a procession of torchbearers enter from one of the narrow side alleys and walk slowly towards the brazier.

  ‘The one at the front is Villaq Umm,’ said the mayor, bowing his head.

  Wearing a traditional royal coat of colourful textiles and a spectacular woven hat trimmed with gold and topped with feathers, the Villaq Umm looked like an emperor. Walking behind him, four men carried on their shoulders what looked like some kind of a statue hidden under a colourful blanket covered with exotic-looking feathers, reminiscent of the religious processions parading effigies of saints through the streets during religious festivals, introduced by the Spanish after the conquest.

  The Villaq Umm walked up to Jack and bowed. ‘Welcome,’ he said in perfect English. ‘We have been waiting for you for a long time. Please follow me.’

  Lola walked over to Tristan standing at the front of the stage. ‘What do you think’s going on?’ she asked.

  ‘No idea. But whatever it is, it’s fascinating; look.’

  The Villaq Umm had taken Jack by the hand and was leading him up a set of rough stone steps towards the Ransom Room behind the stage, a small, stark building that looked mysterious in the semi-darkness. The men carrying the statue followed, but the men with the torches stayed behind at the brazier, chanting.

  ‘Please come inside,’ said the mayor. ‘You are about to witness something unique only seen by a privileged few. No cameras are allowed inside the El Cuarto del Rescate. This is strictly for your eyes only.’

  Isis looked at Tristan. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ she said.

  ‘Perhaps I have. Let’s go inside and see what this is all about, shall we?’

  * * *

  Despite the significant time difference – Venice was seven hours ahead of Cajamarca – Countess Kuragin and Leonardo were watching the Cajamarca transmission on TV in the palazzo salon.

  ‘I don’t know how he does it,’ said the countess, ‘but the stories certainly seem to find Jack wherever he goes. Just look at this!’

  ‘I know why.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘He’s something very rare and special,’ said Leonardo.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A just man.’

  The countess looked at Leonardo, surprised. ‘You put it very well,’ she said. ‘That’s exactly what he is.’

  Leonardo reached for the countess’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Thanks, Katerina.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For staying with me. I don’t think I could have coped with Lorenza’s death without you.’

  ‘You are one of my dearest and oldest friends. And you heard what Jack had to say about friendship.’

  ‘He got that one right. How long are you planning to stay?’

  ‘As long as you want me to. Why do you think I asked Adrienne to run the chateau hotel for me once we open it up again?’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘In that case, how does forever sound?’

  The countess looked at Leonardo, her eyes moist with tears, and squeezed his hand in silent reply.

  * * *

  Bartolli and her mother sat on the terrace above the bustling market in Travestere, where the stallholders were already busily setting up their wares. They were having an early breakfast and were watching the Cajamarca transmission on the television in the kitchen.

  ‘You like him, don’t you?’ said Bartolli’s mother.

  ‘He’s a very charming man.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked.’

  ‘My life is complicated enough. Two teenage daughters, a mother who fusses over me, a demanding conductor, and a faithful dog who doesn’t leave my side. That will do it for me. What more can a middle-aged single mother want? I’ll settle for friendship.’

  ‘Smart girl. Broken hearts never mend. Trust me, I know.’

  * * *

  ‘No cameras allowed inside,’ said Darrieux. ‘How weird. Why do you think that is?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Dupree, and turned up the volume on the TV. Th
ey were sitting in front of the fireplace in the Gatekeeper’s Cottage having an early cup of coffee while watching the Cajamarca transmission. The strange procession had just gone into the Ransom Room and the camera was swinging around to show the dancers moving slowly around a large brazier in the square to the beat of the drums.

  ‘Katerina is an extremely generous person, don’t you think?’ said Darrieux.

  ‘She sure is that. Without her, I wouldn’t have had a home after my son died in the fire. But she’s more than that. She radiates love, and this affects everyone around her.’

  Darrieux looked at Dupree, surprised. ‘You are absolutely right. That’s exactly what it is. Look at me. An eccentric, middle-aged trans woman who still struggles with her identity after all these years, has been asked by a sophisticated lady like Katerina, a countess, to run her boutique hotel for her? She has entrusted this chateau into my hands. Can you believe that? Someone like me, who started out as a teenaged male prostitute in New Orleans and told the whole world about it?’

  ‘Oh, I can. Do you want to know why?’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Because she’s also an excellent judge of character, who believes, just like Jack, that friendship is the greatest treasure of them all.’

  ‘And you, what do you believe?’

  ‘I agree with them. Another coffee?’

  * * *

  Grimaldi had arrived in his office early that morning. He didn’t want to miss the Cajamarca ceremony on TV. Cesaria and Samartini joined him for breakfast just before the transmission was due to start.

  ‘This is a momentous day for us,’ said Grimaldi. ‘What Jack and Isis are doing in South America is truly remarkable, and we – especially you, Clara, with Omerta – have played an important part in all this; congratulations. Not only have the notorious Death Mask Murders been solved and at least one of the killers arrested – making the French happy – thanks to Giuseppina’s evidence, Riccardo Giordano got life, and so have many other Mafiosi in Calabria. Effectively, the notorious ’Ndrangheta has been wiped out, and that is a big feather in your cap, Cesaria.’