Rumour had it a great treasure was buried beneath the Star Castle. He’d also heard about the tunnel that connected the inn to the castle.
Though he accepted it existed, he’d always assumed that it had been constructed by smugglers.
The chef was also indisposed, leaving Colts unobserved to enter the cellar.
The question was where did it lead?
42
Ben had expected an average vacation. The discovery of TF’s boat would be fascinating more than relevant: he and Chris would sip some drinks, do a little exploring, check out the local talent, maybe find a bit of closure to the story of the great Thomas Francis Maloney.
The week was turning out to be anything but ordinary.
The floor was an exact replica of an original Aztec ball court. Though the light was poor, in the last five minutes he’d seen enough to create a mental blueprint of the room.
A circle had been mapped out in the centre of the court, flanked by four long and narrow rectangles, two on either side: the colours, red, white, green and yellow. That part of the floor was flat and even, whereas on either side it was elevated, rising at an angle of some twenty-five degrees up to where the circles jutted out.
Like the original courts in Mexico, the so-called goals were located at exactly the midpoint on either side.
Ben picked up the ball and headed toward the nearest goal. As he did so, something strange happened. The wall opposite the writing half opened, and a stone screen emerged, covering the pitch like a roof over a football stadium.
“Ben!” Valeria screamed.
Ben’s reactions were immediate. He dived to one side, losing the ball as he covered his head with his hands. Though the screen missed him, it was so low he was unable to get higher than his hands and knees.
“I have to play the game.”
Valeria was standing by the side of the court, looking desperately for any sign of Ben hidden beneath the temporary roof.
“What’s happening?”
Ben took a deep breath, composing himself. He recovered the ball in his hands, and started to make his way across the court. The ground moved from side to side, causing him to lose balance. Movement was only possible if he stayed low.
He climbed up the raised platform, now less than five metres from the circular goal. The area was slippery, far worse than he had anticipated. No sooner had he made it to the top than he slipped off.
The ball was not allowed to touch the floor – fourteen years studying the Aztecs had taught him the basic rules. Other rules stated no carrying of the ball.
As far as he was aware, there was no referee.
He secured the ball inside the waist of his jeans and headed for the raised platform. Succeeding at the second attempt, he made his way quickly across the slippery slope and stopped on reaching the circle.
He grabbed hold of it to help maintain his balance, fearing one bad step would cause him to fall again. Using his left hand for support, he removed the rubber ball from his jeans and pushed it through the hole. The fit was tight.
But it went through.
No sooner had he succeeded, he heard a second noise. Seconds later the roof disappeared, returning to its original position within the far wall. Almost immediately there was further movement: as in the mausoleum, the wall with writing on it opened up like a doorway, revealing a second chamber.
This time it was Valeria who was the first to enter, heeding Ben’s earlier warning about possible booby traps. On this occasion, the layout of the room was easy to make out. There was light entering from somewhere, not much but enough to make out outlines. There were ornaments on the walls, including a long unused fireplace. Shining the torch, Ben could see items of heraldry, swords mounted in a crossing position, shields, suits of armour, things that would look at home in a great hall.
That was when he saw it. A large rose-shaped object attached to the wall above the fireplace.
At least twelve feet off the ground.
Valeria was so excited she almost forgot about the obstacle. She moved closer to the wall and jumped as high as she could, raising her right hand.
Ben laughed but without amusement. “You might want to grow another couple of metres first.”
She retorted, “If you have a better suggestion, I’d very much like to hear it.”
He didn’t, but he knew from past experience there would be a solution nearby, be it a ladder, steps, a rope…
He looked around, examining every square inch of the chamber with his torch. Nothing.
There was a mantelpiece above the fireplace, old but sturdy.
“Here, help me up,” he said to Valeria, passing her the torch and accepting her hand for support. Ben climbed the mantelpiece carefully, holding the wall as he rose all the way to his entire six feet two inches. The wall was cold and rough, its exterior coated in cobwebs.
“Still too low,” Valeria said, shining the torch on the area where Ben had his hands. Looking up, the eight-pointed rose was still over a metre out of reach.
“Get up,” he said.
“Excuse me.”
“There’s no other choice. You’ll have to get up on my shoulders.”
Valeria was mortified. The entire depth of the mantelpiece was surely less than a quarter of a metre.
“I’ll fall.”
Ben looked back with a unique expression. “No, you won’t. I promise I won’t let go.”
His words sounded reassuring, but she failed to trust his expression. She shone the torch on the replica emerald and pursed her lips, deep in concentration.
She’d come this far, she thought.
She accepted Ben’s outstretched hand and felt herself being pulled up to the mantelpiece. She slipped as she tried to make contact with the shelf and grabbed Ben tightly, heart in mouth.
“Relax,” Ben demanded, still holding her hand tightly. He looked her in the eye, doing his best to reassure her. “Two seconds. Up then down. That’s all we need.”
Valeria took a deep breath to compose herself. “How do we do this?”
Ben turned away from her and bent forward. Taking another deep breath, Valeria climbed onto his back, as if being given a piggyback ride. As Ben straightened his back, she felt the balance shift, forcing her backward.
“Careful.”
Valeria was furious. “It’s you who should be careful.”
Ben extended his back as far as it could go. “Can you reach it?”
Valeria turned to her right, straining. “No.”
“You need to get up higher.”
Again, she strained.
“You need to stand.”
The words brought her new fear.
“Come on. I’ve got you.”
Unconvinced, Valeria held her breath, doing her best to motivate herself for the challenge. She crossed herself, muttered a short prayer in Spanish and did everything she could to ignore the sound of Ben laughing.
She straightened her back, using Ben for support.
“Ow.”
“Sorry,” she said, half glad she’d poked him in the eye. Standing almost entirely on Ben’s hands, she extended her legs as far as she could, pressing her right hand against the wall to keep her balance.
Slowly, she was getting there. Slowly but surely, nearer and nearer, now just inches away.
She touched the rose with her fingertips; surprised under the circumstances how warm it was – as if it was somehow generating its own heat. She moved her fingers further along the base, eventually getting one hand beneath it.
“You got it yet?”
“Don’t rush me.”
“You’re not getting any lighter.”
Straining, Valeria pushed the replica emerald from beneath and felt it become looser from its attachment. It was heavy, more so than the others she had touched, and had clearly not been moved for some time. The holders were deeply entrenched, perhaps even forming their own grooves. Failing to dislodge the emerald, she tapped it. Softly and then harder.
/> Slowly it was coming, definitely looser. As she moved her hand, she felt it come free.
Bouncing onto Ben’s head and hitting the floor.
43
Ben was furious. “For goodness’ sake!”
“It’s not my fault. It slipped,” Valeria said, emotion rising in her voice.
Ben leaned over to allow her easier access to the floor. She jumped off the mantelpiece to inspect the damage.
“It’s okay; nothing’s broken.”
Ben had never been so relieved. The thought of all that work, perhaps the only opportunity to find Chris…
His hands were shaking.
He got down from the mantelpiece and stood beside Valeria. With both of their torches fixed on the stone, it was possible to make out the features clearly. There were eight petals around the centre of the flower, matching what was included on the stained-glass window back at the lighthouse. The symbol was perfectly symmetrical, the smooth petals illustrating the soft features of a real flower.
If it had been real, Ben guessed it would probably have been red.
“What’s it say?”
The writing was on the back, just like the others. There were three big letters, all easy to read.
O S S
“What does it mean?” Valeria asked.
Ben bit his lip. He tried to think of an answer, but in truth he had none. Logic no longer seemed to work, except regarding the games. The earlier letters, GOD OLP HIN, he was certain spelled out the name Godolphin – that and nothing more. OSS. It could really mean anything.
He took the stone for a closer look, hoping he was simply missing something.
He wasn’t.
“Come on. We need to find the fifth.”
Colts was standing in the cellar when he heard running from behind the door. He stood to one side, using the kegs as cover.
“Hope you haven’t forgotten our little deal, Ben?”
Ben was so shocked he thought his heart was about to leave his chest. The light of the cluttered cellar, the first real light he had seen since entering the tunnel, was momentarily painful on his eyes, leaving him unprepared for someone standing there. The door at the top of the stairs was closed. There were no employees around looking for stock, replacing barrels or throwing out empties.
The last thing he expected was Colts standing in the corner, brandishing a gun.
“You?” Valeria asked, not knowing how else to react. The man was a regular at the GM, so much so that Nicholl had actually allocated him his own room. In truth, Valeria still knew nothing of his background.
Colts smiled at Valeria and tipped his hat like a gentleman. “My, my, my, what have we been rolling in this evening?”
Valeria was confused, whereas Ben had figured out the reason for the smile. He looked at Valeria’s cheek and pointed. “You have a little…”
She looked back at Ben, removed a small mirror from her handbag and saw her face was covered in dirt.
“Here.” Ben licked his finger and walked toward her. He received a slap for his trouble, and Valeria finished the job herself.
“My, my,” Colts repeated, “sure is a terrible evening out there. Question is, what has brought two such fine people as yourselves to a place like this?”
“You were right about the markers, Colts.” He looked at the man he believed was an archaeologist and then at Valeria. “The Spaniards have Chris.”
Colts failed to hide a grin. “I did warn you.”
“They came. They took the trumpet.”
“Trumpet?”
“The first marker stone.”
“Ben.” Valeria poked him in the midriff. “Why do you talk?”
“Mr Colts works for the Duke of Cornwall. He’s been assigned to find the treasure for its rightful owner.”
Valeria’s expression had noticeably soured. “You bastard. All this time, you were lying to me.”
“Montezuma’s dead. So is Cortés. When the treasure is found, the money can be shared. The treasure belongs in a museum.”
Ben turned away, concentrating on Colts. “They have Chris.”
Colts remained vigilant, gun at the ready. “You’re quite certain?”
“They came down on us after you dropped me off. They took the diary.”
“Diary?” Colts adjusted his hat. “I don’t remember you mentioning any diary, Ben.”
“I showed it to you earlier when I showed you the coat of arms. Besides, the diary belonged to my ancestor. It’s a family heirloom. Personal property.”
“You think it contains clues?”
Ben hesitated. “I didn’t know you. I still don’t.”
“Well, why don’t I make it nice and clear for you, Ben. It’s not me, as such, you need to answer to, but my employer.”
“We’ve seen four of the stones. Together they spell out a name. They took the trumpet, but we saw what it said.”
A strange silence ensued, the atmosphere affected by the occasional sound of heat expanding wood and metal, usually a dull clunk or snapping sound, enough to make the hairs on the back of Ben’s neck stand on end. He was becoming apprehensive, Valeria worse still.
Colts was clearly in no mood to compromise. “Well, come on, then, Ben. Let’s hear it.”
“Ben.” Valeria was worried. She had taken to standing behind Ben, even cuddling up against him.
“It’s hard to make out for sure. Three of them seem to spell out the name Godolphin.”
“Godolphin?”
“Yeah.”
“Very good, Ben. What else?”
“I don’t know. It just has the letters OSS.”
“That the stone, right there?”
“Ben,” Valeria said, increasingly nervous.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, walking toward Colts. He lifted the base, allowing him to read the letters.
“That’s mighty pretty there, Ben. And I must say, you’ve done some sterling work – both of you have. It’s been missing for a long time – all of them have. And in the space of one night you go and find them.”
Ben’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Being underground for so long had caused problems with his breathing, but he knew it was not the stale air alone that was making him feel the way he did. Chris had been missing all day. He still had no idea where he was or whether it really was the Spaniards who had taken him. There were no clues, no leads; as far as he was aware, Hammitt wasn’t even working on it.
The solution lay with solving the riddle.
“What does it mean?” Ben asked Colts, struggling to keep his composure. “You don’t seem too surprised.”
Colts raised an eyebrow and smiled, that same smile, like the cat that had the cream. “Maybe if you ever stay here as long as I have, Ben, you’ll get to see things others don’t. Tell me, what were those other letters again?”
“Other letters?”
“Yes, Ben. The ones you thought spelled out Godolphin.”
“The first was HIN. Then another was OLP. Finally GOD. Then this one.”
Colts nodded. “That sure is mighty fine logic, Ben. He might even have a point,” he said to Valeria, who was in no mood to respond.
“We need to find the other piece; that will tell us where we need to go,” Ben said.
Colts removed his pipe from his jacket and filled it up with tobacco. Ben was exasperated.
“Colts, for goodness’ sake.” He slapped the pipe from the man’s mouth, causing it to crash down onto the floor, spilling tobacco everywhere. “I’m not playing games. My cousin is missing because of this. Tell me now. Where is the fifth?”
Colts picked up his pipe and most of the tobacco. “What are the ones you said you have found?”
“A rose, a fish, a bell and a trumpet. They took the trumpet. I understand the last one is a cup.”
Colts finally lit his pipe, blowing rings of smoke toward the ceiling. “You think you’re pretty good at seeing things, Ben? I mean, you’re not the kind of person who would see something direct
ly in front of you only to fail to see the significance, are you?”
Ben could tell a rebuke was imminent. “What?”
Colts laughed, practically a snigger. “I suggest you follow me.”
The Cortés Enigma Page 27