The Granite Key (Arkana Mysteries)

by N. S. Wikarski

  The youth stepped aside to allow Leroy to enter the foyer. It was two stories high, with a single pendant light suspended from the ceiling. The only furniture the room contained was a pair of deacon’s benches facing each other from opposite whitewashed plaster walls. The effect was simple and austere. Like a monastery.

  Hunt followed his guide down a long, uncarpeted corridor. Doors on either side were shut. Other than the sound of their footsteps echoing on the stone floor, everything was silent. Eventually the pair turned right at a hallway that intersected the corridor. It too contained row upon row of shut doors. The doors were plain slabs of dark wood with no carving of any kind. They stretched off into the distance with absolute uniformity. It was disorienting, like walking through a hall of mirrors.

  “A fella could get lost easy in a place like this,” Leroy observed to his guide.

  The teenager smiled stiffly but made no comment.

  Eventually they arrived in front of another set of double doors. These opened to reveal a dining room whose dimensions were vast enough to rival a great hall in a medieval castle. Despite the grandiose size of the room, its furnishings were not designed to impress. They were ruthlessly functional.

  The trestle table could have served forty guests easily. This evening a smaller party was dining there. At the far end sat Abraham Metcalf in a high-backed armchair. On either side of him were eight children, the boys on one side of the table and the girls across from them. Instead of chairs, the children were seated on rows of benches. The boys were all dressed alike in black pants, white dress shirts and black ties. The girls wore shapeless grey smocks. Aside from the grouping by gender they also appeared to be arranged in age order with the oldest girl and boy sitting closest to Metcalf while the younger ones took the places below. They ranged in age somewhere from early teen to toddler. On the girls’ side of the table, in the place farthest from Abraham sat a woman. She might have been thirty. Her long hair was braided and coiled around her head like a skull cap. She wore a simple gray cotton dress which was covered by a white apron. Though she wore no makeup, she was very pretty. At the moment, she was also very frightened.

  Abraham was leaning forward over the table and glaring at one of the younger boys. Unaware that a visitor had entered the room, he continued to address the child. “Silas, I’ve warned you before about this behavior.”

  The boy squirmed in his chair, afraid to meet Abraham’s gaze. He was about seven.

  “Father, he didn’t mean—” the woman pleaded.

  “Silence!” Abraham commanded. “He knows his sin. Look at me, boy!”

  The child stared down at the floor.

  “I said look at me,” the old man thundered and stood up. He rested his hands on either side of his dinner plate and leaned over the table. “Now, Silas!”

  Quaking with fear, the boy complied.

  “What is the greatest of all sins?”

  “Disobedience,” the boy squeaked.

  “What did you say?”

  “Disobedience, sir,” this time the voice was louder.

  “Disobedience is the greatest of all sins. The first of all sins.” Abraham jabbed his index finger in the air for emphasis. “It is the reason that the human race lost paradise.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy whispered.

  “Do you wish to burn in hell?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You are risking your immortal soul, boy. Your immortal soul!”

  The child gulped but said nothing.

  “If I hear one more report of your bad behavior, just one more…,” he paused for effect. “Then I will have no choice but to pronounce judgment.”

  The woman across the table was twisting her napkin into knots. Her agonized gaze shifted back and forth from the boy to Abraham.

  “Yes, sir,” the boy said meekly. “I understand, sir.”

  Somewhat mollified by the child’s abject submission, Abraham sat back down to resume his meal. The other children and the woman took their cue from him. They were about to do likewise when Leroy interjected himself into the scene.

  “How y’all doin’ this evening?” he asked pleasantly.

  Metcalf looked up in surprise, aware for the first time that he had a visitor. “Mr. Hunt? Who let you in here?”

  Leroy pointed behind him to the youth standing timidly in the open doorway. “That nice young feller over there.”

  “Y…y…you told us to let you know the m…m…minute Mr. Hunt arrived, sir. I…w…w…would never dream of interrupting your d…d…dinner otherwise.”

  Metcalf scowled at the teenager for a moment. “You might at least have announced your presence.”

  “S…sorry, sir. I didn’t want to break into your ch…ch…chastisement.”

  “Enough!” Metcalf barked. “You may go.”

  The teenager fled before the word “go.”

  Leroy advanced into the room. He doffed his hat, his eyes fastened on the woman. “You must be the Missus. Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am. My name’s Leroy Hunt.”

  The woman nodded nervously, casting her eyes downward. She said nothing.

  Hunt surveyed the other occupants of the table. “These all your young ‘uns? What do I count here…five, six, seven, eight. My, my, you have been a busy lady.”

  The woman now looked panic-stricken and turned toward Metcalf in mute appeal.

  “Martha, take the children and go. I have business to discuss with this man.”

  Wordlessly, noiselessly, the woman and children slipped from the room like so many ghosts. Their dinners were left uneaten.

  Leroy dropped his hat on the table, walked up to the woman’s plate and helped himself to a chicken leg. He looked questioningly at Metcalf. “You don’t mind now, do you? I’ve had me a busy night and it’s a shame to see all these fine vittles go to waste.”

  Metcalf watched him eat, his face expressionless. Ignoring the question, he asked one of his own. “Do you have it?”

  Leroy tossed the chicken bone back on the plate, fastidiously wiped his fingers on a napkin and then advanced to the head of the table where Metcalf sat.

  Reaching inside his coat pocket, he produced the stone ruler. “Yes sir, I do.” He laid it in front of the older man’s plate.

  In a rare show of pleasure, Metcalf smiled. “Excellent! This is the Lord’s doing. Praise be!”

  Hunt’s expression was sour. “Beggin’ to differ, sir but it wasn’t the Lord’s doin’. It was mine. I don’t recollect him bein’ anywhere about when I nicked the thing.”

  Smoothly Metcalf replied, “You are the Lord’s instrument, Mr. Hunt.”

  Leroy grimaced. “That bein’ the case, your Lord must be mighty hard up for tools.”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways…” Metcalf trailed off. He picked up the ruler, examining its intricate symbols with keen interest.

  Leroy watched him for a few moments. “You call that doodad a key?”

  Metcalf nodded.

  “Strange shape for a key. What’s it unlock if you don’t mind me askin’?”

  Metcalf was lost in contemplation of the object. “Someday you’ll know. Someday the whole world will know.”

  “Guess I’ll wait then.”

  The older man frowned as a thought struck him. “You didn’t have any trouble this time, did you?”

  “Nope.” Hunt put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels in satisfaction. “I got it before that little gal come in to straighten up her sister’s place.”

  “Did she see you?” Metcalf transferred his attention from the ruler to Hunt.

  “Not hardly. The place was dark and I knocked her into a wall before she could get a bead on me. Lit out of there while she was still collectin’ her breath to holler fer help.”

  Leroy noted that Metcalf’s brow was furrowed in thought. “Something botherin’ you, chief?” he asked casually.

  “I wonder if she knows anything about this.”

  Leroy snorted. “Not hardly!
”

  “Why do you say that, Mr. Hunt?”

  “Cause if she did, she woulda done a better job of hidin’ the damn thing stead of leavin’ it settin’ right on the coffee table like it was some kind of knickknack.” Hunt sounded annoyed and a trifle disappointed. “Didn’t hardly make it worth my while breakin’ and enterin’. Didn’t have to ransack nothin’. Just left it settin’ out in the open, plain as day.”

  Hunt stopped speaking. A sly smile crossed his lips as a new idea occurred to him. “Course if you want I should go back and tidy up the situation for you, I aim to please.”

  Metcalf appraised Hunt with a look of thinly-veiled disgust. “I think that leaving a suspicious trail of bodies behind can hardly be considered tidy.”

  Leroy shrugged. “Whatever you say. So long as I get paid, it don’t make no never mind to me.”

  “You’ll get your money.” Metcalf stood up from the table, indicating that the interview was nearing an end. “I am satisfied that the antique dealer’s sister is not involved in the matter. You no longer need to concern yourself with her.”

  He walked with Hunt toward the dining room door. “Once this key is translated, I will have more work for you.”

  “You know how to reach me, chief. Always happy to oblige.” He retrieved his hat, tipped the brim to Metcalf and left.

  Chapter 8 – Digesting The Information

  Much later that same evening, a familiar group of four people gathered together in Faye’s kitchen. The mood was somewhat less grim than that of their last meeting as the old woman bustled about fixing them a midnight repast.

  “Despite the lateness of the hour, I’m glad you were all able to join me to discuss Erik’s latest findings,” she said as she passed out platters of cold cuts and bread.

  The Security Coordinator started building himself a three-decker club sandwich. He didn’t need any further encouragement from Faye to launch into his report to the group. “You were right, Maddie, it was them.”

  “And you’re surprised that they were behind it all along?” The red-haired woman blew a smoke ring into the air. She rose to help Faye bring a tray of cups and saucers to the table.

  “At first I wasn’t sure. It didn’t fit how they’ve operated in the past.” Erik bit into his sandwich. “Besides, they aren’t where we expected them to be.”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear,” Faye corrected gently as she poured coffee.

  Griffin passed the cups around the table. “Where we expected them to be? It isn’t as though we encounter these people everyday. When was the last time our path crossed theirs, Faye?”

  “Long before you came to join us. About ten years ago, I think.” Faye sat down and stirred cream into her coffee. “Much can change in a decade.”

  “Then I suppose it’s to be expected. Why shouldn’t they have relocated their headquarters?” Griffin directed his question to Erik.

  Erik dutifully swallowed his bite of sandwich before speaking. “Because they don’t exactly travel light, that’s why. You should have seen this place. It looked like they’re starting to build their own city.”

  Maddie scowled. “Bad news for our side.”

  Faye moved on to a more urgent topic. “What about this fellow who broke into Sybil’s apartment? You said you don’t think he’s one of theirs.”

  “Not likely,” Erik laughed. “He was wearing a cowboy hat.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?” asked Maddie.

  “Not great. It was dark and he was getting into his truck but I saw enough to put together a sketch. And I got his license plate number.”

  “Well, that’s a start.” Maddie walked over to the counter for a bag of chocolate chip cookies. She brought them back to the table. “Did you have a chance to check out the plates before we got here?”

  “Yeah,” Erik hesitated. “It was a rental. I found out it was leased to a guy named Matt Dillon.”

  Maddie and Faye both laughed. “Our villain has a sense of humor,” the old woman observed.

  Griffin looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “Never mind, old chap,” Erik said in an exaggerated British accent. “I guess you lot didn’t get Gunsmoke over the pond.”

  “Gunsmoke over the pond?” Now Griffin looked completely lost. “What on earth is he talking about?”

  Maddie patted Griffin reassuringly on the back. “Nothing important. It’s just an old TV series. What we Yanks would call a horse opera. You know, shoot ‘em up stuff. Cowboys and Indians.”

  “How very extraordinary,” Griffin remarked, helping himself to a cookie.

  “And what about Cassie?” Faye asked.

  Erik decided to skip the cookies and dipped into a bag of potato chips instead. “Today I trailed her from her dorm to Sybil’s apartment. It was already dark when she got there. I waited for her to go up in the elevator before I followed. I was just getting off on the fourth floor when I saw this guy come tearing out of Sybil’s place and head straight for the stairwell. He didn’t see me. I ran inside the apartment to check that Cassie was OK. That he hadn’t hurt her.” Erik looked around the table at the others. Their faces were troubled. He continued. “But she was just shook up. Lucky for us, she actually saw what he took.”

  At these words, they all stopped eating. A captive audience.

  “Yes?” Griffin prompted.

  “She said it was a five-sided ruler with markings on it.”

  “A what?” Maddie sounded suspicious.

  Even Faye was taken aback. “Griffin, do you have any idea what she meant?”

  “No, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Sybil never mentioned a find like that to me.”

  “We’ve been very careful to keep away from anything that they might consider interesting,” Faye mused to herself. “Sybil knew that. She wouldn’t deliberately go after a recovery if there was any chance they might want it too.”

  “If it’s ours, then we get it back,” Erik stated matter-of-factly, popping open a can of soda.

  “No dear, we don’t.” Faye sighed. “If we lose a valuable find, then we lose a valuable find. It’s far more important for us to protect our anonymity.”

  “So we let them kill one of ours and take something that belongs to us?” Maddie’s eyes were blazing with indignation. “Again?”

  Faye glanced at her sadly. “Yes, I’m afraid we must. It seems like the last straw but we can’t retaliate. There’s too much at stake here to risk exposure.”

  “I suppose.” Maddie relented slightly. “What about the kid? Do we tell her anything?”

  Faye folded her hands on the table, regarding her guests gravely. “Sybil died to protect our secret. We owe her a great debt. She always said she wanted to keep Cassie safe.”

  “By safe you mean in the dark?” Erik asked, a slight edge of sarcasm in his voice.

  “‘If ignorance is bliss, ‘twere folly to be wise,’” Faye observed softly. “I believe we have an obligation to respect Sybil’s wishes.”

  The group was silent for a few moments, mulling over the old woman’s decision. When the phone rang suddenly, they all jumped. It wasn’t the phone on the wall, but a cell phone lying on the kitchen counter.

  Griffin looked puzzled. ”Who would be calling you at this hour and on that line?”

  “Guess we’re gonna find out.” Erik reached over and handed the phone to Faye so she wouldn’t have to struggle to her feet.

  She nodded her thanks to him. “Hello?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Why, yes, of course you may.”

  Another pause.

  “Oh, I think it’s much too late tonight. You’d never find your way here in the dark. How about tomorrow at noon?”

  Faye then gave her address and detailed directions to her house.

  “Fine, I’ll see you then. We’ll have much to talk about.” She laid the phone down on the table. A look of bewilderment crossed her face.

  The other three stared at her, waiting fo
r an explanation.

  Faye wordlessly got up and started to make another pot of coffee.

  “Faye?” Maddie prompted. “Are you all right?”

  “Hmmm?” Faye turned absently toward her guests. “Well, as I was saying, I believe we have an obligation to respect Sybil’s wishes to keep Cassie away from this business.”

  “Yes…” Erik nudged her along.

  She looked around at their baffled faces. “I just never expected her to change her mind—posthumously.”

  Chapter 9 – Lost In Translation

  The morning after he acquired the key, Abraham was waiting for a visitor in his prayer closet. He called it a closet but the dimensions were the size of an average living room. It was the space where he conversed directly with God. Heavy drapes barred the passage of sunlight through the room’s two tall windows. Abraham liked cloaking the closet in shadow. It helped his concentration. There was an oak stand between the windows which supported a heavy leather-bound Bible. The wall to the right of the windows consisted of a series of built-in cabinets with locked doors. They contained sacred documents that were intended for his eyes only. A prie-dieu occupied the corner to the left of the windows. In a rare concession to comfort, the kneeler was padded. On another wall hung the portrait of an elderly man with a white beard. He bore a strong resemblance to Abraham but the cut of his suit hadn’t been in fashion for at least fifty years. His eyes stared down on the room. They were humorless and disapproving. A plaque embedded in the bottom of the picture frame announced that he was Joshua Metcalf—Diviner. Positioned directly below the picture was a small round table and two hard-bottomed chairs.

  Abraham was leafing through some pages of the Bible when he heard a gentle knock on the door. He absently said, “Enter,” without looking up from the page he was reading.

  A man of about thirty came in. He was of medium height. Although his hair was cropped short, it insisted on asserting its curliness. No amount of combing could straighten it out completely. His eyes were dark brown behind horn-rimmed glasses, his complexion sallow. He wore the usual white dress shirt, black tie and black trousers but the clothes didn’t seem to fit him properly. They seemed too big for his slight frame and rumpled even though they had been newly pressed. His shoulders sagged.