Lost Things: Three Adventure Novels

by K. T. Tomb

  “Cool place, Morning Star. Do you come here often?”

  It was obvious that she was still trying to figure out what he did in his spare time.

  “I’ve stopped by with my friend Spike on occasion,” he said.

  “Spike? Sounds like the name for a vicious attack dog.”

  “Oh, he can be vicious at times.”

  Morning Star smiled. He was having fun with their game of cat and mouse.

  “I see you have dressed to go unseen during our operation,” Linda commented sarcastically as she looked him up and down. “You know it would be okay to shed the headdress.”

  “Oh, um. I’ve grown accustomed to wearing it. It brings me luck from the spirits.”

  “I bet there is a good-looking man underneath your costume. Why don’t you at least give me a peek?” Linda asked.

  He ignored her request and instead of replying suggested they hop in a taxi and head to the entrance to Central Park. The driver gave him one glance and shook his head. The wig and headdress threw the man off for a moment but he had come to expect the unusual. He took them to their destination without a word of protest. The driver was lucky to pick-up another fare immediately. An upper Eastside woman waved down the cab. Linda threw the man a $20 and they stepped out of the vehicle. They listened to the woman giving the driver directions before she got in the cab with a light pink poodle.

  “We will be heading to the Pampered Pooch medical clinic on 5th. We are in a hurry to make Leticia’s appointment. The cosmetic surgeon has to give her a little Botox booster.” She turned to her dog. “Don’t worry Leticia. We’ll soon get rid of those little doggie lines. It’s just like the injections mommy gets on Tuesdays. When we are finished we will have a little caviar snack and maybe I will put some Krug in your water dish.”

  The cab driver shook his head deciding that Now, he had seen it all.

  ***

  They entered the park near the reservoir. During the day, it was a safe enough area next to the Park’s largest body of water. It didn’t hold drinking water although it supplied water to various attractions throughout the park. Nearly everyone in the world had seen at least a part of the track that circles the reservoir because it had been featured in many television series and movies. It was a favorite spot for celebrities to exercise. For that reason, it was a place avoided by Patch. He only ran at the track when his PR people said he needed a good photo op.

  They ran into a man with a sign stating that he needed funds as a wounded veteran. He was in a shiny new wheel chair, which he stepped away from after they passed. Patch thought to himself that he must have just witnessed his magical powers in action.

  It was not pleasant looking at the growing underbelly of New York City. He was aware that there were holes in the safety net but still they grew in intensity when he viewed them first hand. He passed many shady characters and a few that needed legitimate assistance and although it was difficult not to notice them, he had to focus on the matter at hand. He made a mental note of what he was seeing and followed Linda. She was holding a copy of the map, viewing it with a flashlight which she expertly held in her mouth. They traveled off the paved paths to cut grass and eventually thick forest. It was increasingly ominous and would have been completely black if not for the moon which was swollen and enormous in the night sky. Patch felt as if the thing was following him and instinctively he kept looking up to check, slowing the pace. Linda’s voice broke the silence.

  “We need to cross the Reservoir quickly or we won’t make it to the bridge in time. It looks as if the moon is moving slowly, but it’s deceptively fast. We have to catch the light when it’s just right.”

  Linda looked out at the misty water. In the distance, she spotted a moving object. As it drew near, it could be seen to be a small rickety boat navigated by an old man. The boat veered in her direction and she waved her arms and yelled out for him to come closer.

  The man was a skimmer; he removed debris from the waters of the park. Patch didn’t know that they even existed. The man agreed to help them cross the Reservoir and they boarded his boat, which could barely contain three people. It stunk and the stench of rotting fish disgusted Patch. He wondered for a moment if the man provided turtles to the folks at the powwow. Something wet and slimy moved between Morning Star’s feet. He reacted instantly. His yelp caused Linda to jump as he pulled his feet up to the bench.

  “Easy does it, Morning Star. Our goal is to get to the other side, not sink this good man’s boat. We are on a tight schedule.”

  They reached the other side of the reservoir. Patch expected to have time to chat with the skimmer for a moment to thank him for taking the trouble. Apparently, there was no time for niceties.

  Linda sprinted into the woods, following the map. She had started out by following the map using the light of the moon when some clouds began to distort it but by then, she knew the direction she was heading. She left her flashlight shoved into her back pocket. Patch could barely keep up with her.

  Suddenly, Linda pulled up before a cluster of boulders. She appeared to know exactly what she was doing.

  “What now?” asked an out-of-breath Morning Star.

  “Shut up and watch.”

  Above, the clouds parted to reveal the full moon, which was now closer in its orbit to Earth than it had been in twenty-two years. Patch felt as if he were getting an astronomy lesson as an added bonus. The silver moonlight was touching everything. As more clouds gave way, a bright moonbeam reflected off the surface of the boulders. The beam hit off another surface creating a ‘Z’ pointing to a small patch of grass.

  Linda tore up the grass in the patch revealing a hole. It was smaller than the typical city manhole but large enough to fit a human in. Linda was running on pure adrenaline. Morning Star peered into the hole.

  “Maybe we should wait until morning,” he suggested hopefully.

  Linda shook her head ‘No’.

  “Morning Star, I know the mayor and he will have us arrested if we wait until daylight. If there were no police strike, we would have been arrested and thrown in jail by now. I assume they’ve had to cut back on unnecessary patrols. It’s now or never.”

  “I vote never.”

  He’d forgotten for a minute that his vote didn’t matter outside of a city council meeting. Linda dropped down the hole leaving him to debate the matter alone. Morning Star reluctantly followed.

  The hole was heavily overgrown with root systems but the penetrating moonlight helped them see where they were going.

  “Hill – I mean a little girl I know, would liken this to going down the rabbit hole. I feel like a Native American and male version of Alice in Wonderland.”

  Linda ignored his comment. To the left was an even smaller tunnel where the light of the moon was no help. “I am not going to fit down there. I’ll stand guard.” He didn’t know what he was guarding against but it sounded like a good idea. Linda grabbed the flashlight and slithered through the tunnel.

  “Ah, hell!” he said as he followed her into the darkness.

  There were rats everywhere and he even spotted a couple of snakes. They climbed over his moccasins and into his loose tunic. He was repulsed, but Linda had no time for his squeamishness. She continued on the way, turning into a still smaller fissure. Morning Star was right behind her as they were dropped into a chamber. It was even darker down there and they both felt lucky that Linda’s flashlight hadn’t been damaged in the fall. She focused it and cast the beam over the small circular room. There was nothing there. Linda went to examine the walls and the low ceiling more closely, feeling along the surfaces with her hands. She brushed over what seemed to be the roots of a plant and decided to tug at it. Instantly, it came loose and fell to the ground, but then a small avalanche of earth followed it. As the hole opened up a bright beam of moonlight illuminated the cavern and they saw the rock sitting in the middle of the room. A crude leather tube was sitting on it.

  “That must be it!” Patch said loudly, overta
ken with enthusiasm.

  He moved towards the object. Linda called out a warning but she was too late. Morning Star stepped on a floor tile which sunk into the ground. What happened next took his breath away. An arrow was released from the adjacent wall and whipped through the air. It was directed right at his chest.

  Linda lunged forward and snagged the arrow out of mid-air, just inches before it pierced his heart. He gasped for breath and looked at Linda. He had new respect for her; she had just saved his life.

  “How the hell did you do that? Not that I’m complaining, don’t get me wrong.”

  She said simply, “Let’s just say that this is not my first booby-trapped chamber.”

  Linda took hold of the leather tube and gently slipped its contents out. She removed a tightly rolled, yellowed document. Morning Star peered over her shoulder.

  “What does it say?” he asked, impatiently.

  “I truly don’t know,” Linda admitted. “It’s written in Old Dutch. This must be it.”

  From behind them, they heard a crunch. It sounded like approaching footsteps. They turned to find Pale Fox flanked by two goons who looked familiar to Patch. It was Bruno and Lenny from the other night in the park. They were holding pistols directed at Morning Star and Linda. Pale Fox stood with his arms crossed on his chest. He appeared larger in the small space.

  “What is going on here? I knew you were jealous Pale Fox, but this is extreme. You followed us here?” Linda huffed.

  “Silly woman, this has nothing to do with you. It never has, but your vanity certainly made you an easy mark. I’ve come to an arrangement with the Moretti family to re-create Manhattan as the world’s new gambling mecca. With this lease, I can return the island to the Canarsee Indians and the Moretti crime family will offer the tribe the use of their invaluable gambling connections to turn this place into a permanent money pit.”

  “How could you strike a deal with criminals like these men?” Linda asked.

  “Hey lady, I take offense to that. My buddy Lenny and I are not criminals. We are handlers. We handle stuff that needs handling,” Bruno said, in his poetic way.

  Lenny knocked Bruno on the head.

  “Names – don’t use names, Bruno. How many times do I got to tell you?”

  Pale Fox stepped up. He touched Linda on the shoulder and gazed in her eyes.

  “I made sure that our people will get what they deserve. We’ll reap the rewards together as a tribe. We could still be the wealthiest couple in the world.”

  Linda spat in his face.

  “You are a greedy fool, Pale Fox. Couple? We will never be a couple.”

  She glanced at Morning Star, who was standing with his hands raised wondering what had happened. Pale Fox turned his attention to Morning Star.

  “Here we have the legendary Morning Star, come to save us all. He appeared and mesmerized the Canarsee like some kind of hero. Except…”

  He paused to make sure that all eyes were on him. “For one thing.”

  He pulled out a rolled up newspaper from his back pocket to reveal a copy of the days ‘New York Times’. He makes Linda look at the photograph.

  “Look closely,” Pale Fox insists.

  Linda Lightfoot studied the photograph closely, narrowing her eyes. The headline read, ‘Mayor of New York – Just Like Us’. The photograph was of Patch at the grocery store. The scratch above his brow was clear. It is the same one incurred by Morning Star at the river. She was horrified and astonished.

  “It’s you,” she whispered.

  Pale Fox grinned in triumph. He pulled off Morning Star’s headdress and wig.

  Standing before Linda was Vincent Patch, Mayor of New York City. Linda cried out in anguish. Patch stepped over to her, but she slapped him in the face. Pale Fox and the others were loving it. Pale Fox reached over and yanked the lease from her grasp.

  “With any luck,” said Pale Fox, “the Canarsee will become the most famous tribe in the world and the richest.”

  He looked at Bruno and Lenny.

  “Don’t you boys think this would make a fitting tomb for the mayor of New York?” he asked the thugs rhetorically as he leveled the gun at Patch’s chest.

  Someone appeared behind the mobsters. It is the old skimmer from the Reservoir. He was holding a small revolver.

  “Drop your weapons, boys.”

  Instinctively, and knowing they had been ambushed although not by whom, they dropped their weapons on the dirt floor.

  “Hey you,” he gestured towards Patch, “You’re Mayor Patch, I like you. You’ve helped pretty up the park. I know you don’t believe an old coot like me votes, but I do and I voted for you. After this, you owe me big time.”

  Patch removed the lease from Pale Fox’s hands as Linda picked up the discarded weapons.

  “Will you once again take what is rightfully ours?” she asked Patch, sarcastically.

  Patch looked down, not answering her question as he and the skimmer disappeared through the tunnel.

  ***

  That night he visited Nathan at his apartment and took off his costume for what he believed to be the last time.

  “What am I going to do with this thing?” he asked his brother, throwing the lease down on the table in front of him.

  “You got yourself into this mess. You probably wish the thing never existed, but it does. It means an awful lot to a lot of people that you care about on both sides of this fence. I’m your brother Patch, if you decide to burn the thing I would never say a word.”

  “I don’t think I can do that without hurting the people I have come to love and respect. Then there is the matter of Linda Lightfoot.”

  Patch fell asleep on his brother’s couch with the lease in his arms. He dreamed of Linda.

  ***

  The next day Mayor Patch found himself in front of the history building at NYU. He had last been there when visiting Professor Abernathy, where it all started. It had been very game-like back then. This time he was not on a fact-finding mission. This time he was at the university to right a situation that had gone terribly wrong.

  He found Linda Lightfoot in her small office. It was crowded but still a great deal tidier than his was. Linda was perched behind her desk wearing glasses. She looked up briefly, her demeanor was stoic.

  “Linda, I am so sorry if I deceived you,” Patch offered.

  Her mouth fell open and he knew that if was not the appropriate word to use.

  “It’s me, Mayor Patch,” he continued.

  Linda still did not speak. He laid the lease on her desk and said, “Do what must be done.”

  Chapter Ten

  Some weeks later

  With their lease in hand, the Canarsees sued for Manhattan. The suit rocked the entire nation. Print and web media had a field day. The Canarsee had hired the best attorneys that money could buy and Linda served as the mouthpiece for the tribe. She had insisted they use her as the face of the Canarsee as opposed to hiring a professional PR person and she fit into the role beautifully. She was more eye-catching than anyone they could have hired and she had enough knowledge to answer the difficult questions. The first step was getting the document verified.

  Patch had a visit from an old friend regarding the matter. Nadine spoke through the speaker on Patch’s desk.

  “Hello Patch. I am beginning to get the hang of this intercom thing.”

  Patch had taken to keeping his office door closed more often. It was against his policy but necessary because things had grown out of control with the whole lease debacle. He spoke back to Nadine.

  “I know it’s a pain in the ass. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Yeah, I have to speak with you about my upcoming wedding.”

  Patch assumed she needed time off, which of course, he would arrange.

  “We’ll discuss it later. What’s up Nadine?” Patch said.

  “I have a visitor for you who is not on the calendar,” she whispered, so the visitor could not hear her. “It’s that Abn
erbody guy. He smells a little moldy, Sir. If you want me to get rid of him I will.”

  Patch laughed. It felt good; he hadn’t had a reason to laugh in weeks.

  “It’s Abernathy. He always smells that way. I’m used to it; I’ve known the guy since I had zits.”

  Patch threw open his door.

  “It’s good to see a friendly face. Come on in and tell me to what I owe the pleasure.”

  Abernathy hobbled into his office with his intricately carved cane. The man was old but he had always been an old man.

  “I am here to see how you are holding up under the extreme pressure of this lease nonsense.”

  “Well Abernathy, it’s a mess to say the least. I watched Dr. Lightfoot on the television all day. Every mayor wants to leave a legacy and I appear to have created my own. I am only one person and everybody looks to me for answers. Ah hell, most look to me for blame. My administration is splintered and I have to hide out in my office to avoid the crush of press. I also have countless ordinary citizens and very un-ordinary citizens knocking at my door. The President of the United States called me. I forget what I said to the man. I’m shocked that you were able to make it into the building.” Patch looked weary.

  “I am a decrepit old man. My grey hair allows me unlimited unquestioned access regardless of where I travel. I am not sure if you are aware of my involvement in this matter,” Abernathy said.

  “No, but then I’m aware of very little these days,” Patch said.

  While they chatted, he cracked open his desk cabinet and spotted the peace pipe. He decided to leave it alone for the moment.

  “I was approached by the Canarsee, more specifically by Dr. Linda Lightfoot herself. They needed a great deal of help verifying the authenticity of the lease. As a well-known historian specializing in Native American culture, they contacted me. Patch, I removed myself from consideration. I would have loved to be involved but I had to turn it down. I consider you a friend. I was your professor at NYU when you were 18 years old. I was at your wedding to Juliet.