by R D Hathaway
Rennie and Angie looked at each other with concern.
Angie asked, “Did you say he ingested a stone?”
“Yes,” Joshua answered. “There was a brief reference to that effect, and it may not have been accurate.”
Angie turned to Rennie. “That’s just like what happened to those library people here at the British Museum and in the other countries. Joshua, when you have a chance, I’d appreciate your adding another item to your research list. We need to know of any deaths caused by stones in people’s throats, beginning with any related to the British Museum. It sounds odd, but we’ve come across that now and then.”
“Will do, ma’am. I’ll ask the fellow I contacted at the museum. He seemed to be interested in your venture. Lastly,” Joshua continued, “the Lady died in 1968, in her country home. There was no listing of cause of death.”
“Wait a moment, Joshua.” Rennie studied the young man as if there was a puzzle on his face. “You were in contact with someone at the British Museum?”
“Yes, ma’am, for your original inquiry. I also thought Professor MacDonald may be known to them given his unique expertise.”
“I understand,” Rennie responded. “Did you happen to mention to this person my name or contact information?”
Joshua shifted uneasily in his chair. “Well, I felt it was necessary to note who needed the information. You did say it was for a newspaper story, right?”
“That’s correct.”
Angie interrupted. “The endowment, do you know anything about that? Who manages it or how it works?”
“No, it’s a private foundation, and frankly, I did not go that far. Is it important?”
Disappointment seemed to spread across Joshua’s face.
Rennie folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Probably not. Angie, what do you think?”
“I don’t see anything vital about that. Joshua, you’ve done a great job. Both of you have done wonders. given the time you’ve worked on this and the information you had to go on. Thank you for your efforts.”
“I agree,” Rennie chimed in.
“As a reporter, I know how difficult it can be to get information and get it quickly. Your work will help me put this story to bed. Thank you.”
Joshua seemed pleased. “The address and contact information for Professor Matthew MacDonald is in the file I’ll give you. He may be available soon. He’s been in the Mideast on some sort of dig.”
“Tell us about that.” Rennie eagerly said.
“I guess he has continued his interest in the Near East since his retirement from university and the museum by participating in various archeological digs and occasional Mideast peace activities. He’s probably 80 or more. He’s quite remarkable, really. I’d like to meet him myself. He was expected to return earlier this week.”
Rennie took the files from Joshua.
“If we can do anything else on this, please let us know.” Tiffini said in a cheery voice. “We would be delighted to see your story when it is published. That will provide a satisfying conclusion to this enterprise.”
“Oh,” Joshua interjected. “I mentioned a wrinkle with Professor MacDonald’s surname. It’s a bit odd. There are references to his last name as ‘Justus,’ as in the name of the professor in your query. I thought it must be a mistake or overlap. A bit unusual, though.”
Rennie and Angie shared a suspicious look.
Rennie thought it was time to end the meeting.
“I’ll get a copy of the story to each of you as well as letters highlighting your research assistance. If you discover any other information, please let us know immediately. This has been quite an adventure.”
The four arose from the table to leave, shook hands and promised to keep in touch.
Rennie and Angie took the file folders and left the coffee shop, returning to their hotel with renewed spirit in their steps.
“Rennie, I know this project isn’t about us, but I feel like I’m getting all the benefits. I think we should call Professor Justus. I mean Professor MacDonald. Isn’t it freaky, how he ended up in a similar line of work? And, what’s with the name mix up?”
“Yeah, a lot of mysteries in this family. You would think that Priscilla molded him as a remake of the guy she lost. I’m looking forward to meeting him. I just hope he’s here.”
As they approached the hotel, Angie paused and glanced back down the street.
Rennie noticed the look and asked, “What’s up?”
Angie squinted. “I’m not sure. For a moment, I felt like someone was watching us.”
Rennie scanned the area. “Was it the guy who confronted us? Did you see him again?”
“No, I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”
“Angie, I told you on the plane about my experience with the break-in at my house and that guy who warned me of people who might want to cause trouble. We’ve got to take seriously any indication that someone is a threat, even here in London. Did you hear Joshua say he told some fellow at the British Museum about me looking into this case? Who was that person and who was the guy that harangued us on the street? In fact, who was the man who suddenly came to our aid?”
She swiveled around to see if anyone of concern was around. “Rennie, I don’t know. I didn’t connect with what you’ve experienced. It’s seemed like you’ve been under a lot of pressure and all this is so strange. But your concerns are real.”
“Angie, I’m a professional fact-finder who’s handled a lot of strange stories, and I’ve never run into this type of thing before. It has me unsettled, too. I wonder if that guy in the truck who threatened me at Simpson is related to this?”
Angie pointed at a man across the street. He was speaking into a cell phone. When he noticed her motion toward him, he put the phone away and got into a car. The driver of the car sped off.
Rennie became furious. “What the heck is going on!” she shouted.
“Was that the person you thought was watching us?”
“It was only a feeling.”
“Let’s get inside,” Rennie said.
They hurried to a quiet sitting area in the back, near the windows.
Rennie laid on the table her travel bag of reference material with the file folders.
“Okay, here’s what I suggest. We’ve got to pay attention to what’s going on around us. We must be careful. It’s too strange. Now, we call Matthew’s place and see if he’s there or leave a message. Then, we take a cab and go by the addresses we have for where Matthias, Priscilla, and Lady Jane lived. If we don’t hear back from Matthias, or I mean Matthew, we go back to the British Museum for whatever other questions we may have. If all else fails, we hit the tourist circuit. What do you think?”
“Great plan. Do you want to call him or should I?”
“Good question. I feel anxious about talking with him. He is so close to the people I’ve gotten to know but have never met.”
“I understand. I feel a little of the same, and you’re the one who read all the journals. Do you want me to call?”
Rennie laughed. “No, I’ll do it.”
She got up and went to the front desk, folder in hand. A few minutes later, Rennie returned, dropping onto the couch.
“No luck. The number Josh had was apparently for Matthew’s landlady or somebody. She sounded old and we couldn’t understand each other.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she thought he was back in town, but she had a lot of questions about who I was and what I wanted. I finally told her I was an old friend of the family, in town visiting from America, and we wanted to stop by. I left her our number here and asked her to be sure he got the message.”
Rennie breathed a deep sigh. “I hope we see him, Angie.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Angie studied her friend. Then, she slapp
ed the arm of the chair. “Okay girl, we need to get going. Grab your stuff and let’s get a cab.”
The desk clerk approached them with a thick, mailing envelope. On it was a label with a name typed in bold letters. “Ladies, which of you is Miss Haran?”
“That would be me,” Rennie replied.
He handed her the envelope and departed to a back room. Rennie felt that something was not right. She set the envelope on the table but asked Angie to open it.
Angie ripped the top fold open and looked inside. Her face became pale and her mouth opened. “Rennie,” she whispered. “It’s a stone.”
Rennie leaped out of her chair and ran to the front desk.
“Hey, you,” she yelled to the clerk, barely visible in a back room. “Who delivered this?”
The man approached the desk.
“Who delivered this?” Rennie demanded as she shook the envelope in the air.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see anyone. I heard the door open, and when I came up front, the envelope was lying on the desk. I saw no one. It only had a name on it.”
“When? When did this happen?” she replied.
“It was about 30 minutes ago,” he stammered.
Rennie glanced back at Angie. “That’s when we were down the street. They are watching us. Angie, I’m so sorry I got you into this.”
Angie motioned for Rennie to return to the table.
“We’ve got to call the police,” she whispered.
“And, what do we tell them? I’ve been around cops most of my career. They are reactive only. I can hear it now. ‘Ladies, let us know when you’ve been attacked, and we’ll find the guys who did it.’ No, we have got to stay on track. Let’s stay alert, get our job done, and get the heck out of town.”
London, UK
VII - 2
Seated at a table in a dark, well-appointed restaurant, Seth Galila’s aristocratic style and expensive suit blended well with the clientele and the aloof service personnel. In a whisper, he asked for tea, and with a flick of his finger he dismissed the server.
The trim figure and graceful movements of Galila suggested a younger man than his 65 years. As a successful, influential in London, his appearance demanded recognition from those who saw him.
Another man, whose attire and bearing were far less appropriate for the arrogance of the setting, strolled in an uncertain manner past the tables and stopped near Galila.
Looking above his reading glasses, Galila observed the man.
“Sit, Daniel,” he said.
“Thank you,” the man mumbled. “They’re definitely after something,” he earnestly reported as he sat down.
Galila’s nostrils flared. “Might we begin with something more circumspect?” he sneered.
“Yes, sir. I’ve been looking into the matter that we’ve discussed over the last few days. It seems things are proceeding despite our suggestions to the contrary.”
Removing and slowly folding his glasses, Galila laid them on the table. Tilting his head slightly, he commanded the full attention of the other man. “Daniel, what is your assessment of these ladies? Do you think they know what they are doing?”
“Sir,” Daniel began with hesitation, “they are all over the place. They’ve visited some of the old sights in the city, where the professor and the lady lived. So, they definitely have some of the history. It seems more of a tour though, rather than a hunt.” The man grinned. “Maybe they don’t know they are the hunted ones.”
Galila’s eyes swiveled with the comment as he checked to see who might be within hearing distance.
Daniel squirmed in his chair. “Since our source at the museum heard of their inquiry, nothing further has been pursued there. We know that one of them is a reporter at a paper in the city near Simpson College, and the other is apparently a librarian. Hardly threats to us.”
“We shall see, won’t we Daniel,” Galila said with care. “If they have not been dissuaded by any warnings or activities at this point, why are they not a threat to our mission? Could they be allies with our vile acquaintance in California?”
“I cannot imagine it. He operates at a much higher level. They must be stumbling forward, not knowing what they are dealing with and must also be ignorant of our messages to them. I don’t see their motivation in knowingly putting themselves at risk.”
Daniel finally relaxed in his chair and looked straight at Galila. “I left a little gift at their hotel. I don’t know if they have any idea of its meaning, but it might give them pause.”
The muscles in Galila’s face hardened. “What do you mean you left a gift? You had better not mean a stone.”
The color in Daniel’s face drained away.
Galila folded his hands on the table and lowered his voice. “Daniel, our goal is to keep anyone from finding the documents. We don’t know where they are, and it is our duty to be sure no one else discovers them. The risks to the glory of the Holy One falling into the hands of man are simply outrageous. It would be desecration of the highest order.”
As the server approached, Galila raised a finger and indicated “no” with a quick nod of the head.
“Daniel,” he continued, “we must remain men of and protect the law. People of our faith somehow came to perceive the Pharisees wrongly. They don’t realize that Jesus loved them and argued with them because of His bond with them. We have taken on the mission of keeping the law to honor our Lord. Anyone who tries to touch His person must be struck down, just as Uzzah was condemned when he touched the Ark. The church must return to being the enforcer of the law. If those documents are ever found, it could unleash the destruction of the church.”
Daniel became tense as Galila’s nose and mouth began to twitch into a snarl. “That apostate in California,” Galila hissed. “Sfumato cares nothing about the holiness of what he pursues. Gold is his god.”
A bead of perspiration arose on his temple. “If I ever get the chance, I have a special stone just for him,” Galila said with a twisted smile.
He rested back into his chair. “As for the ladies, you’ve given enough warnings. Simply observe them for now. If you can access their records, do so. The moment you sense they are onto the scent of the treasure, immediately notify me. But, if they can be dissuaded with impunity, act quickly. We must erase this and all future attempts to find what the mischievous Professor Justus uncovered.”
Daniel slid his chair back from the table. “I’ll take care of it, sir.”
“Thank you, my friend. As you know, my dear mother began this holy crusade to protect the church. I must pursue it with all I have. You are a noble warrior in this cause. My grandfather, the Archbishop, would anoint you with his blessing if he were here. There was a reason God gave him the name ‘Worthy.’ It was a great loss to the church that he was taken to the holy realm much too soon.”
As the distinguished fellow drifted into thought, Daniel stood and took one step away from the table. After a moment, he said, “Sir, I’ll be leaving now.”
Seth Galila didn’t look up. The fingers of his right hand flicked up to dismiss the man.
London, UK
VII - 3
Rennie and Angie looked down the street in front of the hotel waving at every cab that passed by.
“How do you know which ones are available?” Angie said in frustration. “There, there. That one saw us.”
The cab made a tight turn in the middle of the street and stopped. They hurried aboard and gave the driver the address. The house where Matthias had lived was not far. When the taxi reached the corner of Bloomsbury Way, Rennie studied the people on the sidewalks and the surroundings.
“I’ll bet this is what he walked past every day, on the way to work,” she said to the window.
Past High Holborn Street, they continued down Drury Lane. Recognizing the name, Rennie became more anxious. Just beyond
Great Queen Street, the taxi turned onto Broad Court. Rennie asked the driver to slow down as he approached the address she had for Matthias’ boarding house. When they arrived, Rennie could not move. She just stared at the front door.
The building appeared to be a “boutique” hotel. The exterior was much like the adjacent buildings, but the door and windows appeared to be modern versions of an older time. It reminded her of their hotel.
Rennie asked the driver to wait. Leaving the taxi, she approached the hotel. She studied the door then grasped the heavy bronze handle. She stopped. For a moment, Rennie felt she might step back into time. She gave it a pull and went in. Angie waited briefly in the taxi before going in.
A young man in a white shirt and blue tie came down the stairway, greeted them, and went behind a short counter as Angie arrived. “Hello, my name is Dale. How can I assist you ladies?”
Rennie felt confused and not sure of what to say.
“We just stopped in to see the place. We’ve been doing some research on a family friend who lived at this address long ago, back when it was a boarding house.”
“When was that, ma’am?”
“It was in the nineteen twenties.”
“Well, the hotel is certainly much different now. After the war, this property was joined with an adjacent one. Then, in the 1980’s there was a major renovation. I doubt there’s much that resembles what was here in the twenties. Was there anything in particular that interested you?”
Rennie glanced around. “I’m not sure. Are any of the sleeping rooms as they were then?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s doubtful. The only room that may have any connection with the old building is what we call the Hearth Room. It’s apparently where the old kitchen used to be. In fact, the display table in the room supposedly was the kitchen table. Rather quaint, wouldn’t you say?”