“What?”
“Bobsyboy,” she repeated. “That’s the username of the person who said it was an emerald.”
“I don’t give a bugger what his name was. We need to find out what the bloody stone is worth.”
“How are we going to do that? We can’t just march up to some jewellers and produce the cross.”
“We take the stone out.”
“What, remove it?”
“Yes. The bloody thing’s already loose.”
“Oh, Ben. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Good idea or not, it’s the only way we’re going to get an understanding as to what we’re dealing with. I’ll go and get it and we can see how difficult it’ll be to take the stone out.”
I placed the cross on the kitchen table and we both looked down at it.
“I don’t think we should do this, Ben.”
I gripped the cross in my left hand and jiggled the centre stone with the fingers of my other hand.
“It’s definitely loose,” I said. “Pass me a knife.”
“Which one?”
“One of the ones we use to eat with. They’re not sharp. I don’t want to scratch anything.”
Sue had her fists up to her chin as I gingerly levered the clasps outwards, scared that one of the four large strips of gold might break off. If any of them did, I was in trouble, big trouble.
“That’s enough, Ben!” Sue said urgently. “Leave it! That’s enough!”
“It’s almost there,” I replied, my mouth gone dry. I gave the fourth clasp one last twist. The stone toppled out onto the table.
We caught the train into the city and took it to one of the manufacturing jewellers in Queen Street.
“My God!” Sue exclaimed as we left the jewellers.
“Just keep moving,” I said, almost as shell-shocked as Sue was.
They had asked how we had come by the stone and we gave them the deceased relative story again. Within minutes the whole of the staff were crowded around gaping at the stone. It was an emerald. It was South American. It was Columbian, and it was old. Bobsyboy had been right.
“What’s it worth?” Sue had finally asked.
“For insurance purposes?” the manager had replied.
“No,” she said. “If we were to sell it, for instance. How much would somebody pay for it?”
“It’s difficult to say, madam. The purchaser would probably be a collector of precious stones. It wouldn’t be purchased by someone wanting to have it made into a piece of jewellery. The cut is too primitive, and yet it is the cut which gives it its value. The oval shape is quite unusual, and that lighter spot in the centre is most intriguing.”
He kept looking at the stone and not at us. It was almost as if he couldn’t move his eyes away
“Well,” I said. “If it was yours, and somebody came in here and offered to buy it, how much would you ask for it?”
“Hmm,” he replied, raising his head to me, massaging the lobe of his left ear between thumb and forefinger. “Not less than one, maybe even two hundred thousand dollars.” He thought for a while, and then added: “No, I think I’d want more than that. That deep green colour is extremely rare.”
“Green,” I said. “I thought it was black.”
“No, although you could easily mistake it for black. It is so dark! It is truly beautiful.” He paused again, his head turned to one side. “It’s funny,” he said. “But it’s familiar somehow. It’s almost as though I’ve seen it before, or heard it described.”
We had thanked him, gathered up the stone, and almost run from the premises.
Fitting the stone back into the cross was even more nerve-wracking than removing it had been, but I managed it without damaging any of the clasps. When I had finished, the emerald was fixed tighter than before.
We laid low for a couple of days, and then went out to the north side of Brisbane to the Chermside Shopping Centre, to check to see if there was a reply from Truecross. Sue thought I was being completely ridiculous, adamant that there was no way anyone could track us to an individual computer, but I was taking no chances, even though it meant fighting our way through traffic for three quarters of an hour to get there. It wasn’t a wasted journey.
I was surprised by their reply, not so much as by what they told us, but by the fact that they did tell us.
As you may have surmised, we are the Society of Jesus, known to you as the Jesuits. I am communicating with you from our head office at the Church of Gesu, in Rome, Italy. We believe that the cross which you have in your possession is one and the same as one which was taken to China with one of our early missions in the late 16th Century. This cross disappeared during the Boxer Uprising in 1900, along with other Church regalia. We are most anxious that, provided that it is the same cross, it be returned to its rightful place in the Church. That is why we wish to examine the cross, to ensure that it is one and the same. We believe that it is, although it could be a clever forgery. Our offer of $75,000 would be conditional on the cross being the true cross. If you wish to confirm our bone fides further, may I ask that you ascertain our telephone number here in Rome by your own separate means, and ask for me personally. I beg you, in all conscience, to do that which is right by almighty God and return the cross to us. The sum which we would give you is a reward for its return and not as consideration for its sale. We have no knowledge as to how the cross disappeared in 1900, whether it might have been misappropriated by Boxer forces, by Chinese bandits, by Imperial soldiers, or by soldiers of the Western powers, or whether it may have been given as a reward for services rendered in saving the lives of our clergy. Once again, I beg of you, please return the cross to its rightful place.
May God be with you.
Father Xavier.
Assistant General
General Curia
The Society of Jesus
“Well,” Sue said. “That clears a lot up. There’s no way they could’ve been responsible for the break-in.”
“Actually,” I replied. “It muddies the waters slightly, and in our favour.”
We had moved off to one of the coffee lounges and had taken a table as far from the counter as we could, the print-out of the Church’s email face down on the table in front of us.
“How could the fact that the Church wasn’t responsible for the break-in muddy the waters?” Sue asked.
“I’m not talking about the break-in, although if it wasn’t the Church then it was someone else, and that’s still pretty worrying.”
“Well, what are you talking about?”
“The cross itself, and our right to it,” I replied.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, we know that the cross was found in a chest which was in the possession of what Monty describes as a pack of those blackguard Boxers. It was obviously looted, or stolen, call it what you want. If it is stolen property then the true owner, if that person or persons can be established, probably has a claim for the return of the property, although the time factor might come into play seeing as how it was over a hundred years ago.”
“So?”
“So this Father Xavier opens the argument that the cross could have been given away by the priest who was in charge of it. If it was given away, and then maybe lost, then it belongs to whoever finds it, unless the person to whom it was given turns up and says that it wasn’t lost, only hidden with the intention of recovering it at a later date. We know that’s not going to happen. Captain Monty is long since dead. It makes the Church’s claim for the return of the cross that much more difficult.”
“So, what do we do?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “It’s going to depend on what’s in the chest. If there’s other church regalia or treasure inside the chest, then there’s probably a better argument that it was looted. But if the chest is full of Chinese bits and pieces, and nothing else that might belong to the Church, then maybe the looted argument isn’t so strong.”
“But according to Captain Monty there were a co
uple of pictures of religious people in the cart, along with religious clothing. The Bishop, or whoever, wouldn’t have given paintings away, or clothing. That’s the sort of thing the Boxers would have stolen.”
“Yes, but they were in the cart, not in the chest. And we’re the only ones who know that there was other religious stuff in the cart. If we don’t produce Captain Monty’s letter, or if we only produce one page, the page with the location of the chest, then it all depends on what’s in the chest. Let’s wait and see.”
“That’s if we find the chest!” she exclaimed.
“Don’t be negative, Suze. We’ll find it, and if there’s nothing else of a religious nature in the chest we could argue that the cross was given to someone as a reward, as Father Xavier suggests, and that the Boxers stole it from that person. And there’s no way that any such person is going to come forward after over a hundred years. It’s ours by right of finder.”
“Yes, but what if we don’t find the chest, what then?”
“In that case we could hide Captain Monty’s letter to his wife, and claim that we just found the cross and the other pieces taped to the underside of one of the drawers of the campaign chest my grandfather left to me. We can say that we know nothing about their origin. My grandfather had the chest for about fifty years before he gave it to me. I think he bought it from some sea captain who’d brought it out from England.”
“Do you think they’d believe us?” Sue asked.
“I don’t see why not. They couldn’t disprove it. Anyway, it’d be up to the Jesuits to prove that the cross was looted, and that’s something they can’t do, not without Monty’s letter, and even that isn’t conclusive. We don’t have to prove it wasn’t looted. The onus of proof would be on them.” I was feeling happier than I had for days. “This is getting better by the minute.”
“What about the first letter to his wife, and the letter he wrote to his brother George, the letter that we think John Jenkinson-Smythe has? The first letter to his wife indicates that he’s found something of value. It’s a pity we don’t know what he said to George.”
“I don’t think it matters at all,” I replied. “I don’t think he would’ve told George much about what he’d found or where he’d found it. He was going to send the detailed instructions and a plan back with one of his brother officers, someone who he trusted. The letter to George would have gone back with normal army mail, and likely to be opened by anyone. He would’ve been very careful in what he told George, and I reckon all he told him was that he’d come into wealth and wanted to know what would be the best way of investing it.”
Sue thought about what I had said for a moment. “Okay, you might be right,” she said. “So what do we tell Father Xavier? Do we tell him it was in your grandfather’s campaign chest or do we mention the writing box?”
“We tell him nothing. We’ve already told him that your aunt left it to you. That’s enough. If we mention my grandfather’s campaign chest of drawers now, then we only complicate things. If we don’t find Captain Monty’s brass chest, or if we do and it hasn’t got any other church regalia in it, then we’ll sell the cross on the open market. If the chest does have church regalia in it, then we sell the cross to the Jesuits, but not for $75,000. We already know it’s worth much more than that. The rest of what we find we’ll put up for auction on the open market.”
My coffee cup was empty and I was feeling peckish.
“Do you want another cup?” I asked.
“Okay.”
“What about a Danish or something?”
“No, just a cup of coffee.”
I was back within five minutes, with the coffee and two apple Danish, both for me.
“You’ve forgotten one small thing,” she said as soon as I sat down.
“What’s that?” I asked, taking a bite from one of the Danish.
“The break-in at the address we gave when I opened the email account. Whoever it was has obviously been hacking into our emails. Anything we say to Father Xavier is going to be read by them.”
“So we need to open a new email address, another dummy one,” I replied.
“That’s probably a waste of time,” Sue replied. “If they’ve hacked into our email address they will have also hacked into Father Xavier’s.”
“Okay then. We’ll use the one we’ve already got, the one in the old bloke’s name.”
“I think our story is getting a bit too complicated,” Sue said.
“Why?”
“Well, we’re possibly going to tell them about the underside of the drawers of your grandfather’s chest. We’ve already told them about your aunt or my aunt leaving the cross to us, and then we might switch over to it being in the writing box.”
“So?” I said.
“I think we’ve got to stick to the truth as much as possible otherwise we’re going to get ourselves in a hell of a mess. We’ll keep tripping ourselves up.”
“Okay, well then,” I replied. “We’ll tell Father Xavier about the writing box, but we’ll also tell him that the cross is securely locked away in a safe-deposit box at our bank, and that he doesn’t have to worry about its security for the time being. We’ll tell him we’re going to think about his offer. We’ll tell him that the writing box at one time belonged to a British officer who was killed during the rebellion and that it probably passed through many hands since then, and that anyone could have hidden the stuff in the box. We’ll tell him we purchased it from a Chinese dealer in Beijing, and that’s all we know about it.”
“On the other hand,” she said, reaching over and taking the other apple Danish from my plate. “Maybe we should say it was in your grandfather’s campaign chest of drawers. That keeps it well away from China.”
“Oh, bloody hell, woman! We won’t tell him a damn thing about where we got it! We’ll just tell him that it’s locked up safe and sound in the bank.”
“Okay, okay,” she snapped back at me. “There’s no need to get stroppy.”
“Sorry, it’s just that the whole bloody thing is getting far too complicated. Maybe we need to write down exactly what we’ve said to these guys, and to the other guys who replied to the websites about the jade and gold things, so that we don’t accidentally contradict ourselves.”
“Good idea,’ she replied. “Do you think we should tell this Father Xavier that someone has hacked into our email and trashed the house next door to Martin?”
“No. If you do that, the bad guys will know we’re on to them. They’ll know we either live close by or that we know someone who lives close by. If they start asking questions around the neighbourhood, Martin might accidentally tell them about us, and mention that he told us about the break-in. He might also mention that we were using the computer at the mall.”
“Fair enough,” she said and dropped the remainder of the half-eaten Danish on my plate, and headed back to the bank of pay computers.
While Sue typed out the reply to Father Xavier’s email, I stood back across to the side of the mall and kept turning and watching for eyes that might be concentrating on Sue, even though we were many kilometres from where we had sent and received all the other emails. There was one well-dressed woman who had arrived only minutes after we had left the coffee lounge. She stood off to one side, about four or five metres away from Sue, glancing in my direction every couple of minutes, and then back towards Sue. I knew she wasn’t waiting for Sue to finish with the computer, for there were two others that were free. Just as Sue finished the message and hit the send button, the well-dressed woman turned and smiled at a second woman who was walking towards her at a fast pace. They hugged briefly, and then strode off.
I would be glad when we finally left for Beijing. There was only five weeks left until our departure and I wasn’t certain whether my nerves would last that long.
Four
Those five weeks dragged. Every time I heard a strange sound during the night I would creep out of the bedroom and slither down the hallway, checking the rooms on ei
ther side of the passage and making certain that all the windows were still closed. We had a dog, but he was a pretty sound sleeper. I was almost certain that a burglar would be inside the house and gone again before the dog even knew he had been there. I had a Japanese sword hidden behind the bedroom door. Twice I unsheathed it as I crept through the house, finding nothing more threatening than shadows on the walls.
There were several more emails from the Jesuits, each one pleading a little more strongly for us to sell the cross back to them. I think they realised they couldn’t sue for the return of the cross as being looted property. Any witnesses to the cross having either been given away by the priests or forcibly taken from them were long since dead. There wouldn’t be any written records, apart from Monty’s letter. As far as I was concerned, the fact that the cart pulled by the Boxers contained religious clothing and paintings depicting priests would be prima facie evidence that the cross had been looted by the Boxers from a church or some other holy place. But we were the only ones who knew those details, and it was going to stay that way.
The letter, the cross, and the other small items, were all locked away in my old legal office safe in the garage. The safe itself was under a heap of old furniture and other junk I had been meaning to get rid of for years. I didn’t think anyone would find it. But, just to be on the safe side, we had rented a safe-deposit box at our bank. The cross and the gold and jade items would be put there just before we left for China. I hadn’t wanted to put them in the bank in case there was a judgement from some court acting on John Jenkinson-Smythe’s behalf ordering us to produce them. Even though I had told Sue that we had no cause to concern ourselves about him, he was still lurking there at the back of my mind. If they were in the safe in the garage I could move them somewhere else without anyone being any the wiser.
The letter from Captain Monty setting out the details of his fight with the Boxers and the location of the chest in the temple grounds had to go somewhere else, maybe into a bottle and buried in the garden where not even a court order could find it.
Dark Eye of the Jaguar Page 9