by Cacey Hopper
Ignoring the sound of shouting voices outside the car, I remember the time Jason tried to teach me to drive his old Gremlin. It had been a fairly unsuccessful attempt, since I had only managed to get it started once. But right now once is all I’ll need. I glance up just in time to see one of the Things about to put his elbow through the passenger side window. Simultaneously I push in the clutch and turn the key, the car starts instantly. I pop the clutch one more time and shift it into first gear.
The little car is off like a rocket, leaving Things One and Two in my dust. I race through the rows of cars, looking for an exit. My heart is pounding at a decidedly unhealthy rate and someone has left the stereo cranked up to full blast. My heart throbs in time with the bass line. I head for the direction of the front gate, praying it is open. As I near it I can see the bored-looking woman from the other day, she appears to be taking someone else to get their car. But I don’t slow down, not even when she yells and waves her arms. There are worse things behind me, so I just step on the gas.
I’m almost to the gate when I see someone attempting to close it. How Thing One got ahead of me, I’ll never know. But I manage to shift one more time and the little car puts on a burst of speed that sends it flying through the quickly narrowing gap. There’s a quite a lot of honking as I pull straight out onto a heavily trafficked road. But once I remember to drive on the left side instead of the right the honking ceases.
Right away I check in my rearview mirror to make sure they didn’t get in a car and follow me. Everything looks clear. At some point I manage to turn off the blasting radio in an effort to calm my frantic nerves. I stall out a few times at traffic lights, but I’m quickly getting the hang of shifting gears. I know I’m good and lost, but I need to calm down. And the only thing that can calm me down right now is to put as much distance between myself and those two as possible.
Surprisingly this time I’m not nearly as shaken up as I was yesterday after my first meeting with the Things, though the fact that I’m getting used to near-kidnapping situations is unsettling in its own way. Sirens wail behind me and I wonder for a second if they’re after me, but the police car passes me by. I comfort myself with the knowledge that I didn’t technically steal the car, it did belong to Jason after all.
I keep driving, growing more and more lost by the moment. Finally I spot a familiar landmark, the Thames River. In the distance I can just make out the distinctive shape of the Tower Bridge. I pull into a parking spot nearby and climb out of the car at last. I lock it behind me, shove the keys in my pocket and take my backpack with me. I’m not even sure where I should go next, but I need to stop running and think for a moment.
The afternoon sun is glaring down through thin clouds overhead, attempting to drive away the dreary weather. I find myself walking along a concrete path parallel to the river with other tourists and locals out enjoying the relative sunshine. I walk for about ten minutes, just because I can’t seem to stop, until I finally find a free bench. I sink down and lean forward, resting my head in my hands. I can feel the events of the past three days catching up to me. I’m more tired than I can ever remember being in my life, both mentally and physically. Every inch of my body seems to hurt. My legs feel as though I have just run a marathon, my arms ache, and my tailbone is definitely bruised. Shifting back, I lean up and squint up at the sky. I’m not even certain of the day or the hour anymore.
After allowing myself a few brief moments of rest, I contemplate my options. Should I go to the police now with what I know? It still doesn’t seem like a good idea since I have no proof of who has Jason or where he’s being held. Also from a legal standpoint neither one of us is in good shape. He has stolen something from his father, most likely something valuable, and I have just committed grand theft auto. Going to the police is definitely out of the question now. Briefly I consider calling my dad, but there is nothing I can think of he could do to help my situation, besides freak out and insist I come home immediately. That’s another definite no.
There is nothing I can do but continue on my own. As long as I’m free and Mr. V still has Jason, I will have keep following the clues.
I take out the book I had found in the apartment, the second volume of Metamorphoses. With my notepad balanced on one knee I begin the tedious task of searching for underlined or circled letters. It’s slow going, just like before. The print in the book is small and the pages are so scribbled on that it’s hard to spot anything of importance. But I do spot something. Once again there are circled letters. I find them one by one, and the words begin to form. And just like before the words appear to be in Latin. When I finish writing them down I’m left staring at another sentence I’m unable to read. Groaning aloud, I can’t help but hope this is the last clue.
For once, instead of being completely confused by these seemingly meaningless clues, it hits me with stunning clarity what Jason has been doing all along. Obviously he had prepared, probably long before he got my text, for this situation. He had to have known someone would be coming for the jewels, so he hid them. Then he left a careful trail that only I could find. I was his fail-safe, his back-up plan in case he couldn’t get to them in time. Or in case something happened to him.
Unfortunately his worst-case scenario has come true and now I’m his only hope. He is leading me to the jewels, and he has been all along. But what am I supposed to do with them when I find them? I can’t go to the police once I find them for the same reason I can’t go now, it will look far too suspicious. I’m running out of options and time. I have to decide what my next move is, and fast.
A second realization courses through me just then, Jason has been kidnapped by Mr. V, who only wants one thing: the jewels. If I can find the jewels then I can use them to trade for Jason’s life. What Jason planned on doing with them once this was all done with I have no idea, but I don’t really care. I’m pretty sure he hadn’t intended on getting himself kidnapped. His freedom and safety are far more valuable than these jewels, of that I am certain.
This new revelation means I have to figure out this next clue right away. I hold up the notebook, not caring how insane I might look to people walking by, and read the sentence aloud. “Sancta rex omnibus solarus.”
Of course I have absolutely no clue what it means, but that is about par for the course these days. Time for my contingency plan.
I dial Alexa’s number automatically, but it only rings a few times then goes to voicemail. I’m hesitant to leave a message, so I hang up and call back again. After two more tries without an answer I give up, frustrated. It looks like I’m on my own for this one.
Not knowing what else to do, I scan the sentence one more time. A few of the words look familiar. I’m pretty sure rex means king, but after that I’m completely lost. There is simply no way I can translate this on my own, not in the short amount of time I have to work with. I know now that somehow Thing One and Thing Two had been given information about the locker. But only Jason knew about it before me, and I don’t want to think of what they must have done to him to make him talk. If they’d found a way to get him to talk then there’s also a strong possibility he might have already caved in and given them the location of the jewels. The thought of Mr. V winning and getting his hand on both the jewels and Jason is about more than I can bear. I have to find them first; it’s the only way I can see that this wouldn’t end badly for me.
Right now I can only think of one step to take next, I need to get some help and fast. And there is only one person I can think of who can help me now.
8. MARION
As I get back in the Mini and head in the direction of Jason’s apartment I can’t decide whether I’m being incredibly brave or stupid. Maybe the line between the two has been blurred already. Still, the apartment and surrounding neighborhoods are the danger zone now. I have already been spotted here once by Thing One and Thing Two, and there is no question in my mind they would still be looking for me. The thought of running into the two of them again causes me to sh
iver. It takes me a while to find my way back to his building, but I manage okay. I find a parking spot on a side road near the apartment and get out. I start walking, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one is following me. I don’t care if look paranoid. I am paranoid at this point.
However, I don’t go back to the apartment. I’m not feeling that stupid right now. Instead I head for the café around the corner, where I first met Peter. With any luck he’d be there, or at least maybe I’d find someone who knows how to reach him.
I’m in luck, the waitress whose section I sit in is the same one from the other night, and she knows Peter well.
“He should be in around four for his tea,” she says when I ask her about him. “You can expect him in a few. He’s like clockwork.”
Finally someone I can count on. Alexa still isn’t answering her phone and I’m equally annoyed and worried. At least I know she’s safe from Mr. V’s clutches back in the States.
Like sleep, food has been low on my list of priorities in the past few days. I force myself to eat, even though I don’t feel hungry. The sandwich tastes remarkably like cardboard.
The waitress was right, and at precisely four o’ clock Peter appears. He spots me immediately and sits down across from me without a word. We both wait while the waitress brings him tea and soup, just like before.
Finally, when we’re alone, he speaks. “How are you?” he asks, calmly sipping his tea.
Suddenly I have the urge to strangle him. If he has any idea of what’s going on, and I have a feeling he does, how can he be so calm? It’s unnerving.
“I’m okay.” But my hand gives a tell-tale tremor as I reach inside my bag. Without any hesitation I push my notebook toward him.
“Do you read Latin?” I’m counting on it.
He nods. Holding up a finger he reaches for his glasses in his shirt pocket before taking a look at the page.
“Can you tell me what it says?” I ask hopefully.
“Sancta rex omnibus solarus,” he says in a rich baritone voice.
“No, can you translate?” I huff irritably. My patience is running a bit thin.
“Oh, right.” He looks at it again for several minutes. “Well, I can tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?” I lean over the table anxiously.
“Your friend is terrible at Latin, this hardly makes sense.”
I frown. This doesn’t fit what I already know for several reasons. First, I know Jason isn’t terrible at Latin, he’s already proven that. Second, I have already done the hard part of finding the sentence, why would it not make sense?
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering how he knows who had written it.
“Here,” he points at the first word. “Sancta means holy. Rex means—”
“King,” I supply.
He nods. “Very good, now omnibus means everything and solarus, well, I’m not even sure about that one.”
I sit back in my seat with a sigh. This isn’t what I was expecting. “Holy king everything?” He’s right, it doesn’t make sense.
“Now, what’s this all about?” Peter questions. “What were you hoping for?”
I bite my lip nervously. “A message of some sort.”
“Ah, well let’s take another look.” He pulls the page back. But I’m already envisioning what they could be doing to Jason right now. Suddenly I’m wishing I hadn’t just eaten. Moments later Peter speaks up.
“Aha, that explains it.”
“Explains what?” I sit up again.
“I believe this could be an anagram.” He pushes the notebook back towards me.
“An anagram, what’s that?” The word seems vaguely familiar to me, but in my current state I can’t quite remember what it means.
“An anagram is a word, or sentence, that when you rearrange the letters it becomes another word or sentence.”
Realization dawns on me, this is just the sort of thing Jason would come up with. True to form, the clues are getting more and more complex the farther along I get.
I look down at the sentence again, trying to see the hidden message inside.
“So, what does it say?” I ask hopefully.
He shakes his head. “Although my Latin is excellent, I’m afraid I have no head for puzzles of this nature. Perhaps you should take another look, now that you know what you’re looking for.”
“Do you think I’m looking for more Latin or English this time?” I ask Peter.
“English, I think. If the message was in Latin it would be nearly impossible to decipher.”
He’s right again; my knowledge of Latin is fairly limited. There is simply no way I could manage to rearrange four Latin words into four more Latin words. So instead I begin look for English words. I can feel Peter’s eyes on me as I try out different letter combinations. Strangely I feel like I’m taking a test and he’s my teacher, anxiously watching to see how well I will do.
My eyes flicker across the page quickly, taking in the several S’s, the U and the X first.
“Sussex,” I say, writing down the word and handing the notebook over to him.
“Very good,” he mumbles approvingly, crossing out the used letters. He slides it back to me again with a smile. “What else?”
I spend a few more minutes poring over the remaining letters, but come up with nothing. When I look to Peter for help he pulls the notebook back towards him and frowns at it for a moment.
“Let me give you a hint from a linguistics standpoint. Your friend might have overestimated your knowledge of the language,” he says finally. “In English the Latin C can also mean K, and a U can often take the place of a Y.”
I nod, ignoring the jab, and write a K over the C in Sancta, and a Y over my remaining U.
Minutes later I announce, “Royal Bank, Sussex. How far is Sussex?”
“Too far,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “What do you have left?”
I search the page, double checking that I’ve crossed out all the used letters. “T, A, O, M, N, I, R and S.”
“Ah.” He reaches over and crosses out the S and T.
“
Sussex Street,” he reads aloud. “Not too far from here.”
I’m still staring at the remaining six letters, waiting for them to reform into a word that makes sense. It takes me another minute, but finally I pick up my pen and write.
“Marion,” I say.
“Someone you know?” He asks.
I shake my head. The rest fits, somewhat, but this part is beyond my comprehension.
I start to gather up my things. “I have to go,” I say. Time is of the essence. Now that I have the next clue, or in this case the next address, I have to get moving again. Before I can pick it up, he takes my pen and writes something in my notebook.
“Directions to the bank on Sussex,” he says before I can ask.
I nod my thanks. I’m fully expecting him to say something else, to tell me not to do anything stupid, or worse, to call my dad. But he’s just staring at me, a little like he’s seeing me for the first time with a look of surprise in his eyes.
“Thanks,” I say, and I’m gone before he can reply.
Following his directions I start walking towards
Sussex Street, and as I do I attempt to sort out the rest of the puzzle. Why would Jason have me going to the bank? Different ideas rush through my mind, each less plausible than the last. Again the possibility of him waiting for me, no matter how unrealistic, crosses my mind. But when I come back down to reality, I know the only way I will ever see him again is if I can find a way to rescue him from Mr. V. But before I can form my plan to free him I have to get to the bank and figure out what is there that is so important.
It takes me a few more blocks before my next revelation hits. At that moment I already know, without a doubt, what I will find at the bank: the jewels. They have to be what he’s leading me to now, probably in a safety deposit box. Where else do people store valuable items? The funny part is; I still h
ave no idea what these stolen jewels even look like, or why they are so valuable. All I know is that they are the key to getting Jason back.
With that I suddenly remember the keys in my pocket. I take them out and examine them one by one. Besides the pocketknife and the keychain there are four keys on the ring. The key to the car, one to the apartment, the other one for locker, and one last key I have yet to use. A smaller key, marked with a crown emblem. That has to be it, the key to the box. My feet quicken their pace on the sidewalk. I am now surer than ever of what I will find in that safety deposit box.
I don’t even consider the possibility of not going to the bank. As far as I know I’m still one step ahead of Mr. V’s men. And as long as I hurry, I should be okay. Following Peter’s directions I walk straight to the bank. It’s not your average local bank. It lives up to its name, with an imposing gilt façade and ornate leaded windows. The gold lettering on the door says they close at six, which means I only have a few minutes. As I enter the rotating doors I see guards flanking the exits and multiple security cameras. It’s a good thing I have a key, I’m not about to add bank robbery to my current list of transgression. Still, it gives me hope to see the bank’s tight security. It means even if the Things know about the box, there’s no way they can access it without the key I hold in my hand.
I wait in line for close to five minutes, trying to figure out what I will say when it’s my turn. I’m well aware of the fact that I stick out like a sore thumb in the gold and marble foyer wearing frayed jeans and dirty sneakers. A few snobby, British bank customers shoot irritated looks in my direction. I ignore them.
At last, I step up to the teller’s windows and smile what I hope is a convincing smile. “Hi, I was wondering if Marion is in today?” I’m taking a huge gamble, but it’s all I’ve got right now.