The Mask of Destiny

by Richard Newsome

  ‘Are we still taking the train to Rome?’ he said.

  Ruby tapped Gerald on his side. ‘Stop here.’

  Gerald pulled over and rolled off the bike to collapse onto the gutter. He stretched his legs out in front of him and rubbed his burning thighs. Ruby stood over him, clearly considering her next words carefully.

  ‘Sam would want us to go on,’ she said. ‘To find the Tower of the Winds.’

  ‘But he’s your brother,’ Gerald said. ‘I thought twins were super close.’

  Ruby rubbed her fingers against her temples and screwed her eyes shut.

  ‘What is it?’ Gerald said.

  ‘I’m getting a message,’ she said.

  ‘A message?’

  ‘Yes. A message from my stupid twin brother who was too slow to avoid the police.’

  Gerald frowned at her. ‘Yes, very funny. But seriously. You want to go on without him?’

  ‘It’s not what I want to do,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s what we have to do. I know it. You know it. And Sam knows it too.’

  Gerald dropped his head. He just hoped that Sam would forgive him one day.

  This time, Ruby sat facing forward on the bike and they eventually found their way to a main road.

  ‘I think there’s a bridge up here. That’ll take us across the river,’ Ruby said. ‘It can’t be much further.’

  Gerald slammed on the brakes. Ruby shot off the seat and buried her face in Gerald’s backpack. ‘What’d you do that for?’ she shouted.

  Gerald stabbed a finger towards the middle of the snarl of traffic ahead of them. ‘That’s Sam,’ he said. ‘In the back of that police car.’

  Ruby shoved the pack out of the way and looked to where Gerald was pointing. The car was crawling ahead at a snail’s pace in the centre lane, hemmed in on both sides by traffic. They could see the blond hair of the back of Sam’s head through the rear window and what looked very much like the shape of Constable Lethbridge sitting beside him.

  ‘What do you think?’ Gerald said.

  Ruby swung off the bike seat. ‘I think you better go wait beside that laneway up there and get ready to ride like you’re in the Tour de France.’ Then she ducked low and scouted ahead, keeping below the tops of the cars. Gerald pedalled along the footpath, holding back, until the police car had passed the laneway. He stopped and watched Ruby shadow the car that was carrying her brother. He could make out Inspector Jarvis in the front, next to the driver. Ruby was a car length behind them, and one car to the right.

  The flow of traffic came to a halt.

  Then Ruby made her move.

  She calmly walked between the lanes of cars to the back door of the police car, and tapped on the window. Ruby tapped at the window again. In the backseat, Lethbridge raised his hands to Jarvis in a gesture of ‘what do I do?’ There was more shouting. Then the window wound down. Lethbridge peered out at Ruby with a sheepish grin on his face.

  There was a pause, then a flurry of activity inside the vehicle. Both front doors shot open as Jarvis and the driver tried to get out. But because the lanes of traffic were so tight, the doors couldn’t open more than a few centimetres. Again and again, Jarvis and the driver banged at the doors. But they were stuck. The muffled sound of shouting came from inside.

  ‘Hello,’ he said.

  But that was all he had the chance to say. The moment the window was open far enough, Ruby shoved Lethbridge aside and dived headfirst through the opening. She grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt and, with a single heave, pulled him right out the window. To Gerald, it was like watching a baby giraffe being born.

  Sam landed on the road in a shambolic heap. His hands were bound behind his back with cable ties. He writhed around on the ground before Ruby took him by the collar and lifted him to his feet.

  Jarvis was screaming from inside the police car: screaming at the driver, at Lethbridge and finally at the gods. There was another barrage of door banging, which was answered by shouts of protest and the blaring of horns from the drivers of the vehicles that were hit.

  Ruby and Sam appeared at Gerald’s side. Sam had a huge grin on his face. ‘I knew you’d come and find me,’ he said. Ruby ignored Gerald’s pointed look while she shunted Sam onto the bike seat.

  ‘Come on, Gerald,’ she said, lifting herself into the basket on the handlebars. ‘We’ve got a train to catch.’

  Gerald launched the bike down the narrow laneway towards the river. With three on board, it was especially hard going—and it wasn’t made any easier by Ruby singing ‘Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head’ at the top of her voice as they bounced along the cobblestones.

  Chapter 14

  Ruby turned the lock and tested the compartment door. It held firm. She flopped back onto a lower bunk and propped her feet against the window. Outside, the suburbs of Paris were gliding by, bathed in the pale yellow light of the dying day.

  On the opposite bunk, Gerald laid out a small feast. Baguettes, cheese, ham, olives, a box of chocolates. He twisted the top from a bottle of cola and took a long swig before passing it to Sam. Sam was rubbing his wrists, trying to get the blood flowing again after the tight cable ties. He took the bottle with a nod of thanks and drank deep.

  ‘That Inspector Jarvis has it in for you, Gerald,’ Sam said, passing the bottle to Ruby. ‘He was furious that the French police let you get away. He’s convinced that you killed Green. I don’t think he’s going to give up the chase any time soon.’

  Gerald sliced open a baguette with his pocket knife and layered in some ham and cheese. ‘How about Lethbridge? Wasn’t he putting in a good word?’

  ‘He tried,’ Sam said. ‘But Jarvis wasn’t listening. He’s obsessed.’

  ‘Did Jarvis ask you anything?’ Ruby said. She accepted a baguette from Gerald and took a bite.

  ‘Ask me anything? He didn’t stop. Where are you going? Who are you meeting? Are you armed?’

  ‘Armed!’ Gerald said, spraying breadcrumbs across the train carriage. ‘As if we’d be carrying guns.’

  ‘Like I said,’ Sam bit into his roll, ‘he’s obsessed.’

  ‘So what did you tell him?’ Ruby asked.

  Sam finished his mouthful and swallowed. ‘That Gerald was on a quest to return a magical monkey’s fist to a curio shop in the grand bazaar of Cairo before the next full moon or all humanity was doomed.’

  Gerald and Ruby looked at him in disbelief.

  Sam took another bite. ‘I don’t think he believed me though.’

  Ruby’s eyes rose to the carriage ceiling. ‘At least he doesn’t know where we’re actually going,’ she said. And then, ‘You idiot,’ for good measure.

  Gerald smiled to himself. It was good to have everyone back together again. Sam polished off the last of his roll and broke off a chunk of cheese. ‘So what’s the plan from here?’

  ‘Well, the train gets into Rome tomorrow around ten,’ Ruby said. ‘I guess we head to the Vatican Museum and find the Tower of the Winds.’

  Gerald cocked his head. ‘The Vatican Museum— doesn’t Professor McElderry have a friend who works at the library there? He mentioned him when he was first researching my family seal.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Ruby said. ‘Maybe it’s time to give the professor a phone call?’

  ‘Weren’t you worried that the police might be listening in to his calls?’ Gerald said.

  ‘Maybe it’s time to start taking a few risks.’

  Sam popped an olive into his mouth. ‘Yeah, we haven’t done near enough of that so far.’

  Gerald pulled his wallet from his pocket and went through the contents. ‘I’ve got enough to buy a phone card and not much else. Those train tickets have wiped us out.’

  Sam eyed the black American Express card inside the wallet. ‘You couldn’t use that?’

  ‘One risk at a time,’ Gerald said. ‘We can’t let Jarvis know where we are.’ He folded the wallet shut and slid it back into his pocket. ‘I’m not sure what we’re going to do for cash now.’
/>   Ruby lay flat on her bunk and fluffed up a cushion for a pillow. ‘I can go busking in Rome,’ she said.

  Sam laughed. ‘I don’t think freak shows bring in much money.’ He ducked as Ruby’s pillow hurtled across the compartment.

  ‘I meant I can sing,’ Ruby said.

  Sam clambered up to a top bunk. ‘I don’t think freak musicals do much better.’

  Gerald wrapped up the dinner leftovers and shoved them into his pack. They’d have to be breakfast as well. Then he kicked off his shoes and sank into his bunk. His legs ached from the bike ride, but a sense of calm washed through him. He took a pen from his pack and tried to recreate the illustration from the book on the back of a train menu. But he couldn’t concentrate. He reached into his pack and retrieved the ruby. The gem seemed to vibrate in his hand. He wrapped his fingers around it and closed his eyes. Soon the roll of the train, the clickety-clack of the wheels and, to a lesser extent, the sound of Ruby’s singing lulled him to sleep.

  That night, for the first time in a long time, Gerald dreamed about Sir Mason Green.

  It wasn’t like the dreams that had dogged him in India, where Green had somehow infiltrated his subconscious using one of the golden rods. Those events were painful, distressing—like someone had attached a vacuum hose to his forehead and tried to suck out his brain.

  This dream was actually relaxing. Gerald and Mason Green were enjoying a quiet lunch together, in one of the private dining rooms at the Rattigan Club in London.

  ‘Some bread, Gerald?’ Green held out a silver plate laden with rolls.

  ‘Thank you, Sir Mason,’ Gerald said, selecting a sourdough roll. ‘Very kind of you.’

  ‘Not at all, old chap. Now, tell me, how is the hunt going?’

  ‘That’s the strangest thing,’ Gerald said. He placed a pat of butter on the side of his plate. ‘I’m really not that clear on what it is I’m looking for. We’re always running and chasing and hurtling along. But we never get closer to anything. It’s very frustrating.’

  Green topped up his glass from the bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket. ‘The first rule of any hunt, Gerald, is know your quarry. That’s where you’re going wrong. From the start, I knew exactly what I was after. You have never had a clue. And yet, what you seek is very close by. You just need to look within yourself, Gerald. It’s all there.’

  A slender woman, her dark hair pulled back in an efficient bun, appeared at the table, and laid a bowl of soup in front of each of them. Gerald couldn’t remember ever smelling anything quite so delicious.

  ‘Ah, this looks good,’ Green said, laying his napkin on his lap. ‘You’ve met my niece, haven’t you, Gerald? She’s a dab hand in the kitchen.’

  Gerald looked up to find Charlotte beaming down at him. She produced a pepper grinder from behind her back.

  ‘Cracked pepper?’

  Her uncle declined.

  ‘And you, Gerald?’ Charlotte said, holding the grinder above his steaming bowl. ‘Cracked poison for you?’

  ‘Poison?’

  ‘Slip of the tongue,’ Charlotte said with the faintest of smiles. ‘Pepper, naturally.’

  ‘Uh, no thanks,’ Gerald said. He wasn’t sure he wanted to taste the soup after all.

  ‘Do dig in, Gerald,’ Green said. He held a spoonful to his lips. ‘It’s very good.’

  Gerald could feel Green and Charlotte staring at him, waiting, while he dipped his spoon into his bowl.

  The soup smelled so good. Gerald brought the spoon to his mouth and closed his lips around it. The liquid warmed his throat. Green and Charlotte watched with satisfaction. Then Gerald’s throat started constricting, as if someone was clenching their hands around his neck. His head jolted back and forth and panic welled in his eyes. His airway was cut off—he couldn’t breathe.

  Just as he thought he was going to pass out, he sat up and banged his head, prompting a snort from Sam in the upper bunk.

  Gerald rubbed his forehead and stared into the blank darkness of the train carriage. It was an hour before he could rid his thoughts of Sir Mason Green and finally fall asleep again.

  Gerald, Ruby and Sam crammed into the phone booth inside the main entrance to Rome’s Termini train station. The concourse was an ants’ nest of activity, with travellers dashing to trains that were heading out across Italy and all over Europe.

  Gerald held the phone to his ear and motioned for Sam and Ruby to stop arguing. ‘It’s ringing,’ he said. Then the call to London was answered. ‘Professor McElderry? Hello? It’s Gerald.’

  There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then the reply came back, ‘Oh, hello…Mother.’

  Gerald cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘He just called me Mother.’

  ‘There must be somebody with him,’ Ruby said. ‘The police, maybe?’

  Gerald took his hand away and held out the phone so they could hear. ‘Is there somebody else there?’ he asked the professor.

  ‘Oh, about half past ten,’ McElderry’s voice crackled through the tiny speaker.

  Gerald shot a concerned look to Sam and Ruby. ‘Professor, we need to see your friend at the Vatican library—do you think you can you arrange it?’

  ‘Um, half a dozen eggs and a pickled herring will do nicely.’

  Gerald screwed up his face. ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘Just ask for Dr Serafini, Mother. He’ll see you right.’

  Gerald motioned for Ruby to write down the name. ‘Dr Serafini? Is he your friend at the library?’

  The professor’s reply was sharp and to the point. ‘Yes, that’s right, Mother. Is your dementia acting up again?’

  ‘We found another ring, professor,’ Gerald said. ‘And there’s a third gold rod, but Green’s niece stole it from us. She wanted to know about the Tower of the Winds. Do you know it?’

  ‘The Tower of—’ McElderry checked himself. ‘I’ll call the doctor myself and make an appointment for you. He sounds exactly the right person to help you with your…condition. Turn up this afternoon and I’m sure he’ll see you straightaway.’

  Ruby and Sam gave Gerald a thumb’s up. Gerald took a long breath before speaking again. ‘Are we in big trouble?’ he asked the professor.

  McElderry’s voice sounded through the phone speaker. ‘Put it this way, Mother, unless you find the cure to your condition very soon, I don’t like your chances.’

  The queue outside the main entrance to the Vatican Museum snaked and baked its way for hundreds of metres along the footpath, with no respite from the fierce summer sun. Gerald, Sam and Ruby were happy to bypass the thousands of tourists outside and take a side entrance into the air-conditioned comfort of the main building. They were ushered into an office overlooking a vast grassed courtyard. A young woman asked them to wait, and went to fetch Dr Serafini.

  Gerald and Sam wandered over to the tall windows that looked down on the courtyard. Tourists gathered in whatever shade they could find.

  ‘Do you think this guy is going to let us see the tower?’ Sam said.

  Gerald shrugged. ‘This is a dead end if he doesn’t.’

  ‘It’s all pretty fancy,’ Ruby said, as she studied the collection of baroque paintings that lined the high walls. ‘Oh my gosh, is this a Caravaggio?’

  A deep voice rumbled across the room. ‘Not a particularly good one, I’m afraid Miss Valentine. But they have to hang them somewhere.’

  Gerald looked up to see a bear of a man filling the doorway. He stood almost two metres tall. His cheekbones formed an overhang as treacherous as anything in Gerald’s school climbing gym, and he wore a dark beard like a burglar might wear a balaclava. He could have stepped from any one of the paintings on the walls. He looked at Gerald and smiled.

  ‘Ah, you are admiring the Cortile della Pigna—my little garden plot. It is quite a view, yes?’

  ‘Mr Serafini?’ Gerald said.

  ‘I prefer Dr Serafini, please. Doctor of Religious Antiquities. Our mutual friend McElderry speaks highly of you Gerald
, and you, Miss Valentine.’ His eyes settled on Sam, who had picked up a small statue from the desk in the middle of the room. ‘And this must be Mr Valentine,’ Dr Serafini said. ‘Knox has spoken of you as well.’ His eyes moved to the statue in Sam’s hands. ‘Perhaps you might place that back where you found it. It survived the sacking of the Serapeum in Alexandria in 391AD; it would be a shame for it not to survive you.’

  Sam replaced the statue, which wobbled for a second on its fragile base but then settled into place. ‘There,’ Dr Serafini said. ‘All is as it should be. I’m sure Knox was mistaken when he said you were the stupidest boy in the world.’

  ‘Huh?’ Sam said.

  ‘You are twins? Always interesting things, twins.’

  ‘Things?’ said Ruby.

  ‘Rome was founded by twins of course,’ Dr Serafini continued. ‘Romulus and Remus, descendants of a prince and raised by wolves, so the story goes. Now there’s a childhood! And of course there’s the legend of Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri.’

  ‘Dios—?’

  ‘Dioscuri—twin brothers from Greece. You may have heard of their Latin name—Gemini. A very interesting pair. When Castor died, Pollux was so upset that he asked the gods to let him share the death.’

  ‘How do you share a death?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Pollux would spend one day enjoying life on Olympus, while his brother was in the underworld. Then they’d swap places the next day. A fairly good arrangement, given the circumstances.’

  Sam looked confused. ‘How do you mean underworld?’

  ‘He means dead, Sam,’ Ruby said. ‘He means you’d spend every other day dead and buried.’

  Sam thought for a few seconds. ‘Well, that doesn’t sound much fun at all.’

  Dr Serafini studied Sam with a wary eye. ‘Knox may have been onto something after all,’ he said. He turned to Gerald. ‘I am so glad you have come to visit, young Wilkins. Come, I have something to show you.’

  Dr Serafini crossed to the desk. In the centre of the polished wooden surface sat a shallow rectangular box, about half a metre long. A piece of soft leather covered the top.