The Carpet Cipher

by Jane Thornley

  “These are the elder Continis you’re talking about, not Maria,” I protested, slowly climbing to my feet. She did the same.

  “Not Maria, no, but she knew. Her parents die but still she not give riad back to my aunt. She promised money in will. We don’t want money, we want what is ours!”

  There was a sound below us in the courtyard. We stilled, listening, but continued after a few seconds. I wet my lips. “So you thought you could find it by stealing the painting?”

  She nodded. “Maria Contini would not will riad to Aunt Zara. She told her this. Many times we hear Continis say that secret must lie in painting but we could see nothing even after we steal it.”

  “So your aunt was behind this from the very beginning?”

  “No!” she said, cutting the air with her free hand. “She knows nothing! We bug her things, the house. We hear everything. She is just old woman—very sad, my aunt. Do not blame her. I moved to Venice and visit Aunt Zara with my brothers many times when Maria Contini left house. We placed the devices.”

  Theirs must have been the rudimentary ones Seraphina scoffed at. “And you made the call to Maria that night?”

  “On burner phone, yes. I said I must talk about my aunt. She agreed. She said she had meeting with someone after but would meet with me first.”

  “But you and your brothers were waiting instead.”

  “Yes. My brothers very angry. She would not give us the key. It was accident.”

  I saw it all play out in my imagination. “No, it wasn’t. You don’t just meet with someone at night to politely ask them to pass over property possibly hiding a family fortune and expect it to all go smoothly. Of course she didn’t agree; of course there was a struggle, and you and your brothers are responsible for what happened next.”

  Though her expression remained defiant, I caught the pain running there. Still, though she may have participated, she was not the orchestrator of this tragedy. And Zara had inadvertently been providing access to her niece and nephews spying all along. I knew she had to have factored in this somewhere. “But you still didn’t know exactly where the secret lay until you heard me discussing it with Nicolina? That’s why you wanted me because you think I’m an expert, which I’m not.”

  A smile touched her lips. “You have led us back to here. You read the symbols in the painting. Now your man digs for treasure.”

  “Look—what’s your name, anyway?”

  “Amira.”

  “Look, Amira, first of all, he’s not ‘my man,’ and secondly, I have no vested interest in whatever might be hidden here, do you understand? I like the puzzle part, I like the challenge, but neither I nor any of my friends are here to steal anything from anyone.”

  “But you work for her, that Nicolina who now owns all.”

  “I don’t work for her. She asked me to help find out who killed Maria Contini and now I know—you apparently.”

  She stepped toward me, gun still pointed at my chest. “Not me, my brothers—very dangerous men. I want only what is right and to give my aunt the life she deserves.”

  “What’s hidden here may not only be valuable but a symbolic message to all the warring religions worldwide—Islam, Judaism, Christianity, even Hindu.”

  She spat. “Allah only true god. Where is Omar and Youssef? What have you done with my brothers?”

  “Omar got arrested for chasing me through a hotel and Youssef—” I hesitated. Telling her that one brother was dead might enrage her.

  “And Youssef?” she pressed.

  But a noise drew our attention to the courtyard again. This time the sounds of a scuffle were unmistakable. Those few seconds of inattention were all I needed to knock the gun from her hand and retrieve the thing in a flash. Now I held both guns.

  “You would not shoot me,” she said.

  “Not to kill, no, but I wouldn’t let you shoot me, either. Come on, Amira, there’s been enough bloodshed already. You can’t help your aunt if you are all in jail or dead. Let’s go down and meet my friends.”

  She seemed to agree with that much.

  We were almost on the bottom level when a cry ripped the air. “Phoebe!”

  21

  I couldn’t tell where the sounds were coming from at first.

  “There.” Amira pointed, running to the other side of the pool to where two figures struggled in the half-light.

  Peaches had a man facedown on the floor behind a table with his hands wrenched behind his back. “Quick, give me something to tie him up with!” she called.

  “Can’t, got my hands full at the moment.” I lifted the two guns to prove it. “Let him up and take my other gun. Amira, stand against the wall.”

  Amira did as I said, shouting Arabic at the man straining to break Peaches’s hold.

  “Does he speak English?” I asked her.

  “No English,” she said. “Don’t hurt him.”

  “Then tell him to stop fighting or I’ll shoot him in the leg like I did Youssef,” I said.

  “Abdul does not listen to me.” But she said something that made him still at once. Peaches pulled him to his feet by the scruff of the neck and he—almost a carbon copy of the other two guys—threw me a vicious look as he regained his footing.

  “They’re all siblings,” I told Peaches, “here to take what they see as their property and to compensate for their aunt’s hard work, broken promises, and a swindled deal. That’s the story in a nutshell, anyway.”

  “Lost property?”

  I leaned forward to pass Peaches the other gun. “The family bought the riad years ago from the Continis, sold to them at a bargain price in thanks to their employee’s—Zara’s—work apparently. She’d been employed by the family for nearly forty years. Then the elder Contini swindled it back from the family when he finally started believing that a treasure was buried here.”

  “That explains almost everything.” Evan was striding across the tiles toward us. “Here, let’s tie them up. I’ve brought the rope.”

  He wrenched Abdul around and bound his hands together while speaking to him in Arabic as I held the gun.

  “What did you say to him?” I asked.

  “I said that it was over, that the police will arrive by morning to arrest them all.”

  Abdul spat something back.

  “What did he say?”

  “He quoted the Quran, something about wealth being like a poisonous snake unless you take care of your family, or something to that effect.”

  “This riad is ours,” Amira cried while Peaches bound her hands. “Anything you find belongs to my family!”

  “That might have been true had you told the authorities and let the court handle your property complaint.” But the words stuck in my throat. I knew damned well how the poor fared against the wealthy in situations like this but that didn’t justify murder and destruction.

  Once bound, the siblings were marched back into the smaller courtyard where Peaches forced them to the floor against a wall and proceeded to tie their feet.

  “How close are you to finding it, do you think?” I asked Evan after he’d assisted with the roping and returned to the digging site.

  “Close, hopefully. I’ve chipped down at least a foot to the original flooring,” he said, gazing down at the pile of broken tiles scattering the floor. A ragged hole now gaped where the basin had been while the fountain itself sat a few feet away with its electrical cord snaking away across the floor.

  I leaned over and peered down, seeing the outline of much older mosaic revealing itself beneath the rubble. In a minute, I was on my knees prying up the top layer of loosened tiles with my fingers. The first piece—blue against white with inlays of deep carnelian red—had not faded across the centuries and seemed to form part of a triangle. I brushed away more to reveal almost a foot of beautiful, intricate mosaic.

  I looked up at Evan as he leaned on his pickax. “It’s the Bartolo carpet in mosaic.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  “But we c
an’t just destroy it.” Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was willingly participating in the destruction of ancient art.

  “We must if we are going to retrieve the dowry. I’m hoping to preserve enough that it can be reconstructed.”

  “These tiles are inlaid with lapis, carnelian, and other precious materials. It’s a work of art in itself. How could anyone just cover it up in the first place?”

  “Either politics or religion,” he remarked, “the two most destructive forces in history.”

  “Yes, but this mosaic may say something even more explosive, especially if it celebrates all religions, which could be seen as heresy to all. And the fact that it’s not a Moroccan design in itself could have compelled the renovators to bury it.” I stood up.

  “Do you truly believe this mosaic celebrates omnism?”

  “Yes, the same way the Bartolo carpet does. It’s a message, a powerful message. Is there any way to preserve it?”

  “Sadly not. This should be an archaeological site and protected accordingly, I admit, but if we want to preserve what’s hidden here, we need to work quickly.”

  “It’s a travesty.”

  “Agreed.”

  I wiped my eyes on my arm. “So, how can we help?”

  “Stand back and let me get back to it, if you don’t mind. I’m afraid that extra help will only get in my way. I’m trying to preserve what I can.”

  “Right.” I stepped away. I couldn’t bear to watch those tiles be destroyed, in any case. I checked my phone, finding that Agent Walker hadn’t responded to my midnight text and that all my other contacts in London were obviously asleep. I strolled over to Peaches, who stood staring at the siblings where they sat bound on the floor.

  “How long do you think those ropes will hold them?” I asked.

  “As long as necessary,” Peaches said. “I can tie a mean knot and Evan a better one apparently. “Where did you find him again?”

  “In London, sort of. Anyway, that’s the last of the siblings,” I said, gazing at Amira. Her brother leaned against the wall with his eyes closed but her gaze remained fixed on every move I made.

  “You killed him,” she said at last. “My brother is dead?”

  “Yes, he is gone. I’m sorry, Amira, but I did not kill him,” I told her truthfully. “Somebody else pulled the trigger.”

  “Noel?” Peaches asked.

  “Of course Noel,” I whispered.

  “Who is this Noel? Why did he kill my brother?” Amira cried, straining against the ropes.

  “He thought he was protecting me. Your brother shouldn’t have stolen that document or knifed the courier trying to deliver it to me.”

  But Amira had begun wailing a high-pitched keen, a sound so much like pure pain that it nearly broke my heart.

  Peaches covered her ears. “Will you stop?”

  Evan paused his digging. “I think I’ve hit something,” he called.

  Peaches and I were at the dig in seconds, staring down past the shattered tiles at a square shape just visible under a crumble of earth. “A chest?” I asked.

  “I believe so,” Evan said. “Who wants to do the honors?”

  “You go.” Peaches nudged me. “You’re why we’re here in the first place.”

  Evan chunked away a bit of earth around either side of the box—rusted iron, at first glance—and let me try to lift it out. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Here, allow me.” In seconds he had hoisted a small chest of about two feet wide and a foot deep from the earth and carried it over to the table.

  For a moment, all we could do was stare at the badly damaged metal box that hadn’t seen the light of day for over seven hundred years. Encrusted with earth, it appeared as though the fountain may have been slowly leaking onto the metal for decades, maybe centuries. Most of the outer casing had nearly rusted away and the padlock securing it hung from the ring like a

  broken jaw.

  “I hope what’s inside isn’t damaged, too,” I said.

  “Go on, open it.” Peaches nudged me again.

  Evan gave the lock a final whack with his ax handle and the rest of the lock crumbled to the floor. I stepped forward, touching the lid, trembling with anticipation for that moment in time when a person from one age gazes into another…

  “What is the meaning of this?” a shrill voice demanded.

  I swung around, my arm still outstretched toward the chest. June was striding through the door, Joe scampering at her heels. For a second, I viewed the scene through her eyes—a ruined floor, three people obviously involved in a search, and two more bound up against the wall. If you could paint a scene for nefarious, we’d nailed it.

  “Pardon?” I said, scrambling for an explanation and finding none.

  “I said, what is the meaning of this?” June’s gaze swung from the siblings to the three of us and back again.

  It was such a stereotypical question that I countered with a stereotypical answer. “I can explain everything.” My arm dropped to my side.

  “Oh, really?” She was pulling a phone from the pocket of her pink robe. “It’s time I called the police, something I should have done long ago. There!” She held the phone up as she pressed a number in her contacts, too far away for anyone to see the details. She had the Moroccan police on speed dial? She said something I couldn’t catch into the cell followed by a loud: “Come at once!”

  “This isn’t what it appears,” Evan whispered beside me, and then: “Mrs. Meredith, don’t do this,” he said. “It won’t unfold how you expect it to, I promise you that. Don’t interfere.” He stepped forward as if to intercept her while Peaches slid in front of the chest to hide it from view. “Just leave the room now.”

  “Are you kidding me—three people demolishing private property? Are you going to tell me that you’re just repairing the fountain or something? Come now, Mr. Ashton, do you take me for a fool? What is that on the table?”

  “We work with Interpol,” I said, stepping forward, “and we’re here on official business investigating a murder that has led back to here.” That wasn’t quite true, and if Walker didn’t contact the Moroccan branch soon, we were going to end up in the local jail, regardless. “Obviously, we couldn’t inform the staff or guests what we were up to.”

  “I bet,” June said, inching forward. “So you’re going to tell me you’re detectives now, are you?”

  “More like agents for the ancient lost and found. That’s what we call ourselves.” I was willing to say anything at that point. “My friend actually owns this riad.” That wasn’t quite true since the ownership of the riad may not have been officially passed into Nicolina’s hands yet.

  “Though we are not actual detectives,” Evan said, striking his most officious tone, “we are indeed working with the authorities to locate buried or hidden artworks. I assure you our actions are quite legitimate, despite the appearance.”

  If he was trying to distract her with assurances, she wasn’t buying it, not that I blamed her. Her look of self-righteous alarm had shifted to something more smug. “Real Indiana Joneses, are you? Why don’t you just open the box before the curtain falls?” She met my eyes. “Well, go on.”

  I turned, reluctant to pollute this treasured moment with June Meredith and her cowed husband looking on but seeing no choice. While everyone watched, I lifted the badly rusted lid and gazed down at what looked to be a bundle of dark red rags that might once have been velvet. As I lifted the bundle from the box and set it on the table, the disintegrating fabric fell away. All we could do was gasp.

  Green fire shot from the surface as Evan ran his phone light across the four sides of the box.

  “Oh, my sweet Jesus!” Peaches exclaimed. “Is that what I think it is?”

  I touched the surface reverently. “A box made of sheets of carved solid emerald? Yes, it totally is.” Staring at the ornate, jewel-and pearl-encrusted lid with its omnistic symbols, I fought the urge to cry—so much beauty with such a powerful message. “And it celeb
rates the god in all religions, a universal symbol of religious unity.”

  “Open it.”

  That was June’s voice but I didn’t look up, couldn’t tear my gaze away from that casket for a single moment—none of us could. I lifted the lid while Evan beamed light into the interior, illuminating the gem surface from the inside out like some surreal jungle mystery. “It’s filled with jewels,” I whispered, scooping a fistful of precious gems into my hand—sapphires, diamonds, rubies, all sparkling like crazy.

  “Holy shit,” Peaches whispered, gazing down at a palm full of gems. “I never really got why people would kill for a bundle of shiny rocks but, like, I’m changing my mind.”

  “This is worth a fortune in any century and is a simply magnificent find,” Evan said, while holding a faceted diamond up to the light. “Flawless."

  My tears released, blurring in the light of so much beauty. After a few moments of reverent gaping, I shook away the spell. “What’s taking Interpol so long? This is going to need an armed guard to safely transport it anywhere.”

  “Step away now.” June again but I ignored her, so intent was I on this amazing discovery.

  Amira was shouting from behind me.

  “I said step away or I’ll shoot.”

  That caught my attention. I turned to June, who now held a gun pointed right at me.

  22

  I should have seen it coming. Maybe at some level I had but refused to pay attention.

  “Don’t looked so shocked, Phoebe. Do you think you’re the only one who can make a booking under an assumed name?”

  June stood with a gun trained on us, Joe behind her holding a pistol of his own. The three of us were unarmed. I’d left the two guns I’d been carrying near the fountain, and since one of them was Evan’s, that left him defenseless, too. Peaches’s knife was firmly shoved into her scabbard but that didn’t do much good under the circumstances. One move and she’d be shot.

  “Who are you?” Evan asked, pitching his voice over Amira’s keening. He, at least, did not seem surprised.