The Emerald Casket

by Richard Newsome

  ‘If he’s spending time out here that’d explain his tan,’ Ruby said. ‘Can you get sunburnt at night? This heat!’

  They waited. But there was no sign of Mr Hoskins.

  Gerald scanned the crowd. He spotted a lone figure standing by a light pole, maybe twenty metres away. He noticed that with all the coming and going this person hadn’t moved; a constant in the changing tide of faces. In spite of the heat, the person was dressed entirely in black: trousers, long-sleeved shirt untucked and a loosely wrapped headscarf. For a split second Gerald imagined it was the thin man back from the dead to torment them. He shuddered. The memory of that vile creature still haunted him: the sneer, the remorseless brutality, the rank odour of bleach that hung over him like his own personal nuclear cloud. Sir Mason Green had said his hired thug was obsessive about germs and thought humanity was infested with bacteria. This made him a poor dinner companion but a very effective killer.

  But the figure beneath the lamppost couldn’t be the thin man. The thin man was painfully pale. A narrow gap in the headscarf revealed a flash of nut-brown skin and piercing dark eyes.

  Eyes that were locked on Gerald.

  Gerald nudged Ruby. ‘Do you see that guy over there?’ he said, not shifting his gaze from those hypnotic eyes.

  Ruby looked up. ‘Yeah. What about him?’

  ‘What did Mr Prisk say? About kidnappers?’

  Ruby moved her head to get a better view of the figure in the lamplight. ‘Whoever it is, there’s a lot of interest in you.’

  Gerald shuffled to his feet and stood behind Sam. The eyes traced every movement.

  ‘Not being paranoid are you?’ Sam asked.

  ‘No. But I wish Mr Hoskins would hurry up.’

  The black-clad figure remained motionless, staring. Gerald could feel the eyes drilling into him.

  ‘This is starting to creep me out,’ he muttered.

  A piercing blast split the air: a car horn’s shrill rendition of La Cucaracha. They spun around. An iridescent yellow armoured vehicle bore down on them like a runaway tractor. It mounted the kerb with a howl of brakes and rocked on its springs. A second later a head emerged through the sunroof.

  ‘What took you lot so long? I’ve been waiting for ages.’

  ‘Mr Hoskins!’ Gerald said, with some relief.

  ‘So much for being discreet,’ Ruby said as the rotund body of Mr Hoskins climbed down from the enormous vehicle.

  Gerald glanced towards the lamppost. The figure in black had disappeared.

  Gerald, Sam and Ruby piled into the back of the car and soaked in the cool air inside. It took Sam two hands and all his strength to pull shut the armour-plated door, which closed with a resounding clunk. Mr Hoskins and another man loaded the luggage into a second vehicle. The driver’s door opened and Mr Hoskins clambered in.

  ‘Where’s Mr Fry?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘He’s going to follow in the other car,’ Mr Hoskins said. ‘I thought you lot could use a break—misery guts that he is.’

  They pulled out into the traffic like an ocean liner leaving port and joined a line of vehicles heading towards the city. Mr Hoskins leant on the horn and unleashed a musical tirade as he changed lanes.

  ‘Mr Hoskins,’ Gerald said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘What type of car is this?’

  ‘This, young Gerald, is a Conquest Knight XV—the foremost urban assault vehicle on the market.’

  ‘I see.’ Gerald paused. ‘Are there many bright yellow Conquest Knight XVs in Delhi?’

  ‘Reckon this’d be the only one.’

  ‘I see.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  ‘Got a problem with the transport, sunshine?’

  Gerald shook his head. ‘No. No. It’s fine. Really comfy. But Mr Prisk said we should be careful and, um …discreet.’

  Mr Hoskins snorted. ‘That uptight pencil pusher needs to get into the real world.’ Another burst of La Cucaracha blared into the night. ‘You can be discreet or you can get things done. Take your pick.’

  The Knight ploughed through the traffic, a tangle of cars, scooters, trucks, motorcycles and autorick-shaws. Even though it was close to one o’clock in the morning, the streets were crawling with people.

  ‘Is it always this busy?’ Ruby asked, her nose pressed against the tinted window. A motorbike with a gamily of five on the back zipped past them.

  ‘One thing you’ll find here,’ Mr Hoskins said, lurching into the next lane, ‘is you’re never too far from the next person.’

  Gerald leaned between the front seats and gazed through the windscreen. ‘How come you never told me you worked for Archer Corporation?’

  ‘You never asked,’ Hoskins replied. ‘Don’t find out stuff unless you ask.’

  Gerald wondered what he had to do to get a straight answer from some people. Mr Hoskins in particular was about as opaque as they came.

  Then Gerald had a sudden flash of inspiration. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Do you remember at Great Aunt Geraldine’s funeral? You said she never came to visit me in Australia because she had to protect something. I’m asking you now: what was it that she was protecting?’

  Mr Hoskins popped a peppermint into his mouth and chewed.

  ‘I can’t tell you that,’ he said.

  ‘But you just said you don’t find out things unless you ask!’

  Hoskins continued chewing on his mint. ‘Well, you can’t believe everything you’re told neither. And that’s advice you can take to the bank.’

  Gerald flopped back between Sam and Ruby. Why did Hoskins insist on speaking in riddles?

  Then Gerald had a thought. If Mr Hoskins wasn’t going to be any help, maybe someone else might. ‘Do you know if any of my relatives have seven daughters?’ he asked.

  Hoskins adjusted the rearview mirror and gazed into the backseat.

  ‘Seven daughters?’

  ‘That’s right. Geraldine mentioned them in a letter to my mum.’

  Hoskins stared unblinking into the mirror.

  ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘Never heard of them.’

  Gerald held Hoskins’ gaze for a few seconds, then turned his head to look out the window. For some reason, Gerald thought, Mr Hoskins didn’t seem to trust him.

  The fatigue from the long flight kicked in and Gerald, cocooned in the plush comfort of the Knight XV’s leather seats, drifted off to sleep. At one stage he had a vague sense of the vehicle slowing and of voices outside but he was so shrouded in weariness that it all just washed over him. Then there was a blur of movement as he floated out into the heat of the night. Was he walking? Or dreaming? He could feel his feet plopping down onto the ground, one sluggishly following the other. Was there a whisper in his ear? Then it was cool again. And he was lying on smooth sheets. Head on a pillow of impossible softness. Horizontal bliss. He slept.

  Sir Mason Green said nothing when he visited that night. He stood by the bed, silent.

  This time, Gerald was ready. He knew it was a dream.

  He opened one eye and saw that his imaginary Sir Mason was staring at a piece of paper in his hands. After a minute, he let it slip from his fingers. As it wafted to the floor, Gerald saw it was a photograph of himself, Sam and Ruby. They were on a picnic blanket under a tree at Avonleigh, laughing. Their faces reflected the joys of summer. All looked serene. Apart from the hole burned between Gerald’s eyebrows, and the slash marks across Sam and Ruby’s hearts.

  Gerald flipped his pillow and welcomed the cool side to his cheek, then settled to his slumber.

  He woke to the sound of water. He propped onto his elbows and found that he was in a vast four-poster bed, complete with a canopy trimmed with maroon and gold brocade. If Aladdin’s cave had an adjoining bedroom suite, he seemed to have woken up in it. Silk sheets swept across his waist. He leaned back on an elaborately carved bedhead, festooned with pillows of all shapes. The walls were hung with tapestries, and block-printed fabrics ballooned like parachutes across the ceili
ng. Cushions were stacked in the corners of the room and the stone floor was covered with an enormous red, gold and white woven rug.

  ‘Far out,’ Gerald breathed. Even after living in a billionaire’s mansion for the past month, he was stunned by this step up in luxury and style. He looked down and discovered he was still dressed in his clothes. He swung his feet onto the rug and enjoyed the sensation of silk beneath his toes. The sound of running water again attracted his attention. He crossed to a set of windows, pulled back the shutters and gasped. Outside, a stream of crystal clear water bubbled past the window, tumbling over boulders and winding through an expanse of lawn down to a pond beneath a copse of trees. Butterflies danced in the morning sunlight. If he was still in the middle of a bustling city, this must be some sort of oasis.

  ‘It’s all fake, of course.’

  Gerald turned around. Ruby was leaning against the door. She was wearing over-sized cotton pyjamas and her arms were folded across her chest. ‘The water’s chlorinated from a pump house,’ she said. ‘The rocks are polished concrete. The pond’s tiled, for pity’s sake. I think the trees are real but that’s about it.’

  ‘What’s got you in such a good mood?’

  Gerald changed his clothes and followed Ruby into a spacious lounge. Two other bedrooms opened onto the space, which appeared to be the centrepiece of a large colonial villa. Glass walls on two sides overlooked the enormous water feature and the gardens that seemed to go on forever. A covered walkway led across the lawn to a much larger building. Sam lay slumped in a pile of cushions, eating a croissant.

  ‘Grab one,’ he said in a spray of pastry flakes. ‘They’re delicious.’

  Gerald took a pastry and a glass of lime juice from the sideboard and fell back onto a sofa.

  ‘What’ve you found to be grumpy about?’ Gerald asked Ruby.

  ‘She’s just looking forward to seeing Alisha again,’ Sam said with a smirk.

  ‘You can go jump,’ Ruby said to her brother. She took a bite from an apple and turned to Gerald. ‘You saw how she treated me last time. She was a complete princess, making out she was so much better than me. And now look at this place.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Don’t you see? It’s all so fake. Like some theme park for the rich and tasteless. I wish we hadn’t come.’

  ‘Do you remember how Alisha made fun of Ruby’s shoes?’ Sam laughed. ‘And ignored her after we got the diamond back? That was hilar—’

  Ruby cut her brother short. ‘I thought you were in the process of jumping, melon head. Look, Alisha Gupta represents everything I hate. She’s conceited, she’s spoilt and she’ll bat her pretty eyelids at you boys all day long to get her way.’

  ‘Um, Ruby,’ Gerald said.

  ‘No, let me finish. She’s the type who uses her looks to compensate for yawning holes in her personality. And it’s something boys never see through—’

  ‘Ruby.’

  She counted on her fingers. ‘She’s bland, she’s boring, she’s opinionated—’

  ‘Ruby!’ Gerald hissed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s…behind you.’

  A stillness hit the villa. Ruby’s eyes closed and stayed that way. Alisha Gupta stood in the doorway and for a moment the only noise was the air conditioning kicking up a notch to cope with the inflow of warm air from outside. Alisha stepped into the room as if she was walking on stage. She was dressed in a traditional robe of golden silk, her long dark hair draped loose across her shoulders. She crossed to Gerald, raised onto her toes and pecked him lightly on the cheek.

  ‘Gerald,’ she said with delight. ‘It’s so good to see you.’ Her voice rang like morning birdsong. ‘And Sam,’ she skipped over and grabbed Sam by the hands and squeezed, pulling him to his feet. ‘You’re looking so well after your adventure. It’s lovely to have you here.’ Sam stood there with a look of dumb rapture on his face. Then Alisha’s eyes fell on Ruby who was still dressed in her rumpled pyjamas, her hair piled on the top of her head like a collapsed haystack. ‘And it’s nice to have you here too, Rosie.’

  Ruby ran her hands through her hair, trying to straighten out the mess. ‘Um…it’s Ruby, actually.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right. Terribly sorry.’

  ‘Look, about what I just said—’

  Alisha arched an eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry? Were you speaking? I hope I didn’t interrupt. Because that would be unforgivably rude.’ She looked Ruby square in the eye. ‘Perhaps you might say it again.’

  Before Ruby could mumble a response Alisha swept an arm into Sam’s and led him to the door. ‘Come along to the main house,’ she said, casting a glance back over her shoulder at Gerald. ‘Father wants to say hello.’ Sam padded along happily but Gerald hung back.

  ‘I’ll wait till Ruby’s ready,’ he said. ‘We’ll be there in a minute.’

  Alisha gave him a curious look, then left the room with Sam on her arm like a handbag. The moment the door closed behind them Ruby was at Gerald. ‘See how she treats me? Like I’m some lower form of life.’

  Gerald tried to smother a snigger. ‘You’ve got to admit, you said some nasty things. She’s bound to bite back.’

  Ruby stamped off to her bedroom. ‘Why did she invite me if she hates me so much?’ she called back through the door.

  ‘Beats me,’ Gerald said. ‘The invitation came from her dad, anyway.’

  Ruby emerged wearing a T-shirt, shorts and sneakers, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. ‘Maybe when she’s done pulling the wings off all these butterflies we might get to know each other better.’

  Gerald shook his head. ‘You love a grudge, don’t you?’

  ‘Grudges,’ Ruby said flatly, ‘have made the world what it is today.’

  They found Sam and Alisha inside the main building, in a wood-panelled library overlooking a patio and an enormous swimming pool. Sam was inspecting the contents of a display case. He looked up as they entered the room.

  ‘Gerald, come see this,’ he said.

  The wooden cabinet held a collection of coins and carvings, illuminated by display lamps. On the middle shelf was an array of gemstones: glittering rocks in almost every colour imaginable. In the middle of them all sat an enormous diamond. Gerald gasped at seeing the Noor Jehan again. The last time he’d seen it was when they’d returned it to Mr Gupta at Beaconsfield. It sparkled brilliantly under the lamps—Noor Jehan: the light of the world.

  ‘You can hold it if you want.’ Alisha stood up from a silk-draped couch and walked across. She unlatched the glass door to the cabinet and tossed the diamond to Gerald.

  He gasped at the sight of the priceless gem sailing through the air towards him. He juggled the catch, wrapping his fingers around the stone, and stared down at the most valuable diamond in the world.

  ‘Are you sure we should be playing with this thing?’ Gerald said, not taking his eyes off the gem in his hands. Alisha let out a trilling laugh. ‘There’s more security around this compound than at the White House. That diamond isn’t going anywhere.’

  Gerald felt a tingling in his fingers. A dull glow seemed to come from the heart of the gem. And then Gerald yelped in surprise as the Noor Jehan popped out of his grasp like a wet cake of soap. Alisha caught it neatly with one hand and placed it back in its stand in the display cabinet.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Ruby asked Gerald. He was wriggling his fingers in the air.

  ‘That thing just gave me a jolt,’ he said. ‘Like it was electric.’

  A jovial voice boomed across the room.

  ‘It does seem to come to life sometimes, doesn’t it?’

  Gerald looked up to see Mr Gupta walking towards them with hands outstretched and a smile on his round face. ‘Greetings, Gerald. I’m so glad you and your friends have come for a visit. I trust Alisha has made you welcome.’

  Gerald’s eyes darted to Ruby. She was gnawing on her bottom lip. ‘Just like home, Mr Gupta,’ he said.

  The man clamped an arm around Gerald’s shou
lders and squeezed. ‘Your timing is perfect. Now I can thank you properly for recovering my diamond. It’s been in the family for more than fifteen hundred years—it’s the centrepiece of my collection. It would be very poor form for me to lose it.’

  ‘It was very kind of you to invite us, Mr Gupta,’ Ruby said in her politest voice. She avoided Alisha’s eyes.

  Mr Gupta let out a raucous laugh. ‘The least I could do—seeing as you were in the neighbourhood.’

  He tapped a fingernail on the glass of the display case. ‘All these bits and pieces are from the Gupta empire. At that time, our ancestors controlled almost all of India. Sadly, those days are long gone. But a few trinkets have been handed down through the centuries.’

  Gerald looked around at the opulent furnishings and the palatial scale of the house. He guessed that more than a few trinkets had found their way into Mr Gupta’s care.

  A servant dressed in a long white robe appeared bearing a tray of iced drinks. Mr Gupta ushered Gerald and the twins to a suite of armchairs. Alisha made a point of sitting very close to Sam. But she didn’t take her eyes off Gerald.

  ‘It’s very hot in Delhi this time of year,’ Mr Gupta said, taking a sip from a frosted glass. ‘The monsoon rains that usually cool us down are late. So, if it fits in with your plans, I suggest you spend only a few days here before escaping the heat. My company sponsors a tiger reserve in Kerala and, if you like, you can have a week on a houseboat there, cruising the rivers. I think you’ll find it fascinating.’

  ‘That sounds great,’ Ruby said. ‘I’ve always wanted to see a tiger in the wild.’

  Alisha leaned forward and rested a hand on Ruby’s knee. ‘Let’s hope they’re not very good swimmers. We’d hate to have an accident.’

  There was an awkward silence. Ruby pressed her lips together, restraining herself. Then Alisha turned back to Sam and unleashed a smile that would light a small village, revealing dimpled cheeks and two rows of orthodontically perfected teeth. ‘First, I want to give you a taste of Delhi. A traditional market. Let’s go this evening.’

  Sam slipped back into his stupor and nodded readily. Gerald wasn’t sure, but he thought he could hear Ruby’s teeth grinding.