Seed- Part One

by D B Nielsen

  She exhaled sharply, ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Like Indiana Jones, Fi.’ I said, my eyes darting to her face briefly and then back to the photo in front of me, ‘Remember? In the map room? With the sunlight hitting the crystal in the centre of the medallion and the beam pointed to a certain location?’

  ‘Like where the lost ark is?’ she glanced back at me, biting her lip.

  ‘Yeah, like that.’ I agreed, ‘But not the ark of the covenant. Something better. Something more important.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ I admitted, clasping my hands together to stop them from shaking, ‘All I know is that the artefact is going to help us find it.’

  I fell silent and was lost in my own thoughts for the remainder of the time we spent there, my thoughts confused and scattered, flitting from one idea to the next. It was like a puzzle or riddle that I was meant to solve or, more accurately, like I had been given a compass and been told to embark upon a journey, a quest. Well, that sucked because I was hopeless at navigating my way around even the simplest streetscape, even where there were road signs to assist me. I never seemed to be able to find my sense of direction.

  And I was impatient for answers now, for confirmation that my hypothesis was correct. I just wanted to ascertain the truth.

  We worked in silence except when Fi was giving me instructions as she decided to make a second set of photos; so the day was already well advanced by the time we finished and packed away our gear. I waited by the stable doors, now locked, as Fi went to find the caretaker and hand him back the keys. Even with the daylight, the temperature had not risen – at least, not perceptibly. The grounds of the studio seemed deserted as it was the time of the year when people went away. Christmas was creeping closer and we were almost into December and the holiday season. Back in Australia my friends would be at Byron Bay. It wasn’t worth thinking about.

  I wondered about St. John’s family in Paris. I had no idea about his parents or siblings; whether he even had any siblings. He was travelling to Paris in a fortnight to visit his family – would he be returning to them for Christmas? Did they even celebrate Christmas? It was frustrating knowing so little about him. I supposed I should have learnt my lesson the other night when he’d called me childish and told me I was too young for him, but I somehow felt that he wasn’t being completely honest with me, like he was holding something back. Maybe he did feel that I was young but that certainly wasn’t all of it – he had his own reasons for avoiding me that had nothing to do with age. I just couldn’t figure him out.

  It was cold standing in the open waiting for Fi; cold enough almost for snow. It looked like it would be a white Christmas this year. Beneath my feet the ground was frost-hardened, solid. I stamped my feet and did a little jig to keep warm. This time, my scarf was wrapped around my face, covering my mouth and nose. As I waited for Fi, in my peripheral vision I caught a movement – a redwing was hopping amongst the frosted boughs of a fruit tree. I saw it fret and strop its beak, tilt its head at an angle as if listening to some unheard summons, and take off. It was beyond sight far too soon. In the distance, Fi was walking towards me – as if mimicking the bird that had just flown away, I saw her tilt her head and give it a shake. She was talking to herself.

  As she approached me, she looked up and paused. I wondered what was happening to us – why were we both being so secretive? Uncannily, Fi answered my unspoken question as she approached me, ‘About these last few days...’ She paused, searching for words.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, falling into step with her, ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.’

  She looked surprised. ‘You have?’

  ‘Well, yeah.’ I met her gaze as we walked along the pavement heading towards the bus stop, our boots crunching on the frozen ground under our feet, ‘I’ve got so much to tell you – this weird thing happened at the kennels which will completely freak you out ... and then there’s St. John ... and these visions I’ve been having.’

  She frowned. ‘Actually, I was going to tell you some stuff that’s been happening to me. But that can wait. What do you mean “visions”?’

  My story unfolded as we rode the bus back to the Manor House, Fi and I speculating about the vision I’d experienced and its relation to the artefact. We agreed that visions would probably go hand-in-hand with a mystical object that transformed when one looked at it. But what neither of us could figure out was the behaviour of the dogs at the boarding kennels. Fi agreed with me that Mum’s explanation didn’t quite cut it.

  ‘I have a theory,’ I began, hesitant, swivelling around in the bus seat to face her, ‘If the artefact is like a cosmic map of some sort – a cosmic map of reality and maybe something else besides – then maybe St. John is wrong. I mean, what if ... what if the dogs and their behaviour are like the winged lions and bulls that guard the ancient Mesopotamian temples and palaces? What if they were drawn to me because I’ve been experiencing something that no one else has and I’m connected to the artefact now?’

  ‘Sounds reasonable,’ she remarked, ‘but what do you mean that St. John is wrong?’

  ‘Well, he said that the tablet depicted something that wasn’t real. But what if it was real? Is real?’

  She held my eyes with her own, ‘Well, I guess that means that you’re right – this cosmic map is like an ancient navigational tool and it’s pointing us in a particular direction. And I guess that means that whatever it is at the end of the journey is so important that it needs protection.’

  I nodded in agreement, pressing the button for our stop.

  ‘But that also means that if they were trying to guard you, you are also in need of protection,’ she said, suddenly intent, ‘Maybe you’re the only one who can find the way there.’

  I looked at her shocked, the thought had never even occurred to me.

  ‘Fi,’ I breathed, ‘What if you’re right?’

  Fi stepped down from the bus to face me, her face sombre, ‘Well, if I’m right then we’d better start figuring out what the artefact really is and where it’s trying to lead you because I have a feeling that we’re going to need that information real soon.’

  APPEARANCES AND DISAPPEARANCES

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was just beginning to drizzle when we reached the circular driveway of the Manor House only to see a sleek black Audi pull away from the entrance and drive towards us. I caught a glimpse of St. John behind the steering wheel and gave a brief wave; he stared straight ahead not even bothering to acknowledge me despite it being unavoidable that he’d seen Fi and me walking down the drive. And then he was gone; the car speeding down the street and disappearing round the corner before I could even gather my thoughts.

  ‘Wow,’ Fi exclaimed, ‘did you see his face?’

  ‘Yes.’ My voice broke.

  His body had been stiff, face closed, lips pressed together tightly. He’d looked mad as hell.

  ‘Man, it looked like someone had shoved a pole up his–’

  ‘Fi!’ I exclaimed harshly, ‘Shut up!’

  ‘Fine. But I wonder what’s got his goat?’

  As we entered the front door, the grandfather clock in the entranceway chimed the hour but otherwise all was quiet. Fi put her finger up to her lips and dragged me along the corridor until we stood outside the study, listening intently to the voices inside. I felt that I could have been growing roots into the floorboards with the amount of eavesdropping I’d been doing lately outside the study in that very same spot.

  This time Dad’s voice could be clearly heard as he was shouting at the person and I realised that they must have been at the other end of the phone line. He sounded more distressed than angry.

  ‘–incompetent. How could Security have been so lax? I don’t suppose anyone thought to check?’ He paused, obviously listening to the other speaker, before giving an agitated reply, ‘Well, see to it that you do ... St. John agrees with me – this has to be an internal investigation ... We
can’t afford for the media to get involved ... I don’t give a damn – just do it. And, no, we don’t need to bring in Scotland Yard or Interpol just yet ... It has to be handled sensitively ... Well, do your damn job and I’ll do mine.’

  Fi and I had never heard Dad speak like that to anyone, he’d never used that tone of voice before, so whatever it was that was making him so upset had to be huge.

  He slammed down the phone with such force I heard the Waterford crystal paperweight rattle on his desk. Mum’s voice, calmer, placating, could then be heard.

  ‘Honey, what does this mean?’

  ‘It’s gone. Vanished.’

  ‘It can’t have just vanished, Robert.’ Mum said, ‘There must be a reasonable explanation for its disappearance. Could someone have mislaid it? Could it have been taken by mistake to some other part of the museum? Placed on display in the exhibition, perhaps?’

  ‘No, no, no. It’s gone, Rose.’ This time there was resignation in Dad’s voice.

  ‘But how could it have vanished?’ Her voice came out a little sharper this time.

  ‘Just the same as it arrived – out of thin air. I knew it was too good to be true.’

  Fi and I exchanged a glance where we hid. None of this was making much sense.

  ‘God!’ Dad exclaimed, ‘If I only knew why – what was the purpose of it all? Where did it even come from? I really thought we’d found it this time. We were so close. If we’d found evidence that it existed ... do you know what that would mean?’

  ‘Robert, please, calm down!’

  ‘This is all so hopeless.’ Dad stated wearily. ‘Theories. Hypotheses. Conjectures. And nothing – not a goddamn clue!’

  Now we could hear them moving about the study; their voices getting louder as they headed towards where we were standing out in the hallway.

  ‘That’s not exactly true, Robert. You yourself told me that Sage knew how the artefact should be placed. You would never have figured out what it represented otherwise.’

  I started, gasping, and would have done more if Fi hadn’t put her hand over my mouth at that moment to keep me quiet.

  ‘I didn’t figure it out, Rose. St. John did.’ Dad was saying.

  Mum sighed, ‘What does it matter whether it was you or St. John – you’re both part of the same team. All I’m saying is that at least you know that much about the artefact.’

  ‘No, you’re right.’ He agreed, ‘And there’s more. We also know that the artefact–’

  The handle of the door to the study rattled and Fi and I bolted back down the corridor, rounding the staircase just as Dad opened it.

  Whatever he said was lost in our mad flight to escape getting caught. I doubt if I would have been able to hear anything anyway over the pounding of my heart. I could feel the blood rushing to my head and the sound of my agitated breathing as I collapsed on my bed next to Fi.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Fi breathed, sitting up to face me on the bed, ‘It’s been stolen!’

  ‘It hasn’t been stolen,’ I contradicted, trying to get my breathing under control, ‘It’s disappeared – that’s what Dad said.’

  ‘Oh, come off it, Sage. Don’t be so naïve.’ She rolled her eyes, ‘Disappeared? Huh! It’s been stolen. And they can’t call the authorities in to investigate because the artefact’s not even supposed to exist or something.’

  I sighed, staring up at a cobweb in the corner of my bedroom ceiling without really seeing it at all. ‘They don’t want a media frenzy, Fi.’

  ‘That too,’ she agreed, rising from the bed to pace the room in a kind of nervous excitement. ‘It had to be an inside job – after all, who knew about the artefact except for Dad and his team?’

  ‘And you and me.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t take it and I doubt if you did so that just leaves the people that Dad works with,’ she replied cheekily.

  ‘Not only at the museum,’ I added, sitting up in bed to watch Fi as she stood at my desk chewing unconsciously on the end of one of my pens – a good one too. ‘This find would have been bigger than just Dad’s colleagues at the British Museum. No way would they have been able to keep it to themselves. I bet academics and archaeologists around the world know about it. And then there’s the conservators, the security guards, the–’

  ‘All right! I get the point!’ Fi exclaimed, ‘Not just an inside job then.’

  I shook my head, ‘No.’

  She came back to sit by me on the bed, ‘But it’s not Dad and it’s not St. John. That much we know. No wonder he looked so mad.’

  At that I smiled. At least St. John wasn’t mad at me. And the stress of having an artefact stolen would justify his incivility when he drove past us. I knew I was pathetic – any excuse would have done; I just didn’t want to be the cause of his ill-mannered, boorish behaviour. This was the best news I’d heard so far.

  ‘What the hell are you smiling at?’ Fi scowled. ‘Sometimes you’re just so weird.’

  I shot her a dirty look but then jumped up, remembering something else that Dad had said.

  ‘Fi, I was right!’ I turned to face her, grabbing the backpack which held the photos from where Fi had tossed it on the floor next to my bed when we had dashed into the room. ‘The artefact was – is – meant to be positioned on its smaller base.’

  Fi frowned at the memory, pulling the backpack out of my hands, ‘Yeah, that’s true but Dad also said that St. John had discovered what it represented because of you.’

  ‘Do you think that Dad meant he’d discovered a cosmic map?’ I asked, doubtfully.

  Fi shook her head, pulling the photos out of the backpack as she said, ‘Nah. Didn’t sound like it. I think St. John’s discovered your “something else”. I think he knows what that “something else” is.’

  That was a possibility I hadn’t really thought of.

  ‘What do you think they were looking for anyway? Dad thought they’d found some proof in the artefact’s existence,’ I paused, speculating, ‘Evidence of Alexander the Great’s occupation of Mesopotamia? Or even the location of his final resting place? The Tower of Babel? The Hanging Gardens?’

  Fi shrugged. ‘It could be any of those things. You know what Dad’s like – he’s obsessed with ancient Babylon. I bet St. John’s the same. If they found another hoard of boring clay tablets they’d be over the moon!’

  Looking down at the photos Fi held in her hands didn’t yield any more clues than what we’d discovered earlier. And now with the artefact missing I knew that I might never get another chance to view it again so the mystery would remain unsolved.

  ‘Well, at least we know more than we did before, but it looks like you’ll have to cosy up to your St. John Rivers and pump him for the information we’re missing.’ Fi insisted.

  Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative and I blushed wildly at Fi’s unintended use of sexual metaphors.

  My reaction did not go unnoticed by my sister.

  ‘Why, Sage Rose Woods – whatever are you thinking?’ Fi teased mercilessly, ‘Maybe doing a little under cover – or should I say under the covers? – work may be a little too hot for you to handle.’

  ‘Shut up!’ I exclaimed. If it were possible, I blushed even more, letting my hair fall in front of my face like a waterfall to shield me from further embarrassment. ‘Forget it – no one’s going to pump St. John for information.’

  ‘Then how do you propose we find out what they know and we don’t know?’ countered Fi, launching herself off the bed to stand in front of me. ‘I wasn’t joking before – you may be in need of protection, Sage. We need to know all we can about the artefact and we’ve just about hit a dead end.’

  I knew she was right. Now that we’d figured out that the artefact was pointing us in a certain direction we needed to know what we could expect to find at the end of the journey but I was reluctant to face St. John again after our confrontation the other night. And, on some deeper level, I wished to repress the fear I was beginning to feel whenever I though
t about the artefact, especially if I faced the truth – that someone had indeed stolen the artefact from the museum.

  Another thought occurred to me. ‘Fi, what if they view the security footage? How are we going to explain sneaking into the Conservation Room and taking photos of the artefact? We’ll be suspects if they believe it’s theft.’

  ‘No, we won’t be,’ Fi assured me, ‘Think of the timeline, Sage.’

  I looked at her in concern. ‘What timeline?’

  ‘You – or rather, I – took the photos four days ago. If the artefact has disappeared then it could only have been recent. Most probably it was stolen today – otherwise Dad and St. John wouldn’t be so worked up about it. Ergo, someone – one of the hundreds or thousands of people who work at the museum – must have seen the artefact between Tuesday and today.’

  ‘“Ergo”? Since when have you used Latin words in your sentences?’

  ‘Have you been listening to a word I’ve just said?’ she asked impatiently.

  I laughed at the offended expression on her face. ‘Yes, I get it. But that doesn’t mean we’re not up to our neck in it. When Dad sees those security tapes we’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she agreed with amusement, ‘but trust me. I have a plan. It’ll be fine – I promise you.’

  I shook my head, groaning. ‘Great. Well, when we’re both sent to prison in Outer Mongolia, I’ll know who to blame.’

  In response, Fi grabbed a pillow from my bed and whacked me with it, so I picked up the other pillow, retaliating, and the next thing I knew we were engaged in a pillow fight that drew the attention of Jasmine and Alex who ran into my bedroom prepared to do battle. Indy also bounded in from the solar, barking excitedly as we pummelled each other till we were all exhausted. The photos of the artefact slid to the floor unnoticed in the fracas that had occurred. But later, as I was cleaning up pillow stuffing and goose feathers from the carpet, I realised an unassailable fact – the artefact was something I could never forget. Even when I tried.