by Zach Neal
Criminals—real, proper criminals, just like the kind you read about in the paper, thought Jeremy. Her and O’Dell were con artists, is what he thought she was saying—or trying to say it, anyways. They had pooled their resources, and invested heavily into an operation that had gone badly wrong.
He and his uncle were lucky to be alive, on sober reflection. She didn’t actually say that—
“Is there more?”
There was nothing but silence, punctuated by the sound of the birds on the other side of those billowing curtains…
“Were you planning to kill us?”
She shook her head, the tears finally flowing.
Mister Day cleared his throat.
“No, sir. We were going to grab the gems, tie you up, and steal the boat—everything Mister Syrmes did, basically. You would have eventually gotten out.” His face was bleak. “And she’s right. We were going to get caught.”
He shook his head at his own stupidity.
They’d been thoroughly used.
Uncle Harry sought out Jeremy.
Heaving a deep sigh, Uncle Harry asked one final, perhaps rhetorical question.
“What, in the hell, are we going to do now?”
Jeremy shrugged.
“Beats me, Uncle Harry.”
Beats me.
“Where did the artifacts come from?”
Day, perhaps realizing cooperation was his only hope, answered for the two of them even as Melody put the gun down on the table.
“Syrmes had stolen them years before. He worked at a big museum in Caracas. He’s very convincing, and he weaseled his way in somehow. Think of all the English-speaking tourists they get. Anyways. He grabbed as much as he could carry, and booked out. He was on the run, and he had no choice but to find safe keeping for them. Those artifacts are pretty well-known. Someone will recognize them. I don’t know what the real crime was, originally, back in England. Probably murder, knowing him. His whole life was like that. But then, he was fortunate to get back home with a new name and a new face. And after all that time, four years later, he runs into you and your little talk at the Explorer’s Club. You can imagine how it hit him—now is my chance to go back. Now is my chance to recover the jewels. Now is my chance to be rich…” He’d been dreaming about it forever, but he didn’t have the resources.
He sighed deeply.
“And that, Doctor Fawcett, is basically the whole story.”
The big question, and it was odd to hear Mister Day say it, but what were they going to do with us two, as he put it.
And as Uncle Harry said, that was one very good question.
***
“What an extraordinary tale.” They were back in school.
The nights were getting longer, dull, drab routine was settling in, and his good friend and colleague Richard Hamble was astounded.
Possibly even unbelieving. Jeremy had been sort of holding him off, and at the same time savouring his knowledge, perhaps even his new powers. They’d finally gotten together in Hamble’s digs, his room-mate temporarily off in the study hall.
“Yes. The funny thing is, that it’s already sort of fading into history.”
“Would you ever go back?”
Jeremy laughed.
“I go back next summer. By then, they should have quite the camp set up, with shacks for the workmen, a proper cookhouse, maybe even a bathhouse, everything they need to properly survey and excavate a major archaeological discovery.”
Mister O’Dell’s and Mister Smith’s bodies had been recovered, receiving a far more Christian burial than that provided for Mister Syrmes. With no known next of kin, they would get small, plain white headstones in the local cemetery and that was about it. The whole thing had cost about twenty pounds, at least according to Uncle Harry.
Hamble had cut their obituaries out of the Times and proudly presented them to Jeremy.
“I find it hard to believe that your uncle would be fool enough to hire Mister Day.”
Jeremy shrugged, reaching for a macaroon, mug of cold milk all ready for the dipping.
“Yes. Well, he wasn’t such a bad chap. He really is qualified, and he was on the spot. There are not too many educated Englishmen around, and it’s possible that they understand each other a little better now. Gerald…seemed pretty grateful and he knows he’s sort of on probation. He’s learned one hell of a lesson, when you think about it.” As Jeremy had as well, many lessons, some of which would never be forgotten.
Some of which might take a while to sink in, as he put it…
“I refuse to believe that your uncle has taken up with this O’Dell woman. And what are they going to put in this alleged book that he’s writing?”
Jeremy grinned, and then sighed.
“Melody is a very beautiful woman. She’s smart, she’s tough, and she’s also very independent minded.”
“Yes. But how can he ever trust her?”
“I don’t know, Hamble. Maybe he’ll have her watching Gerald. And he’ll have Gerald watching her. The gold’s been returned to the museum, and he got a pretty big reward. He was smart enough to get them to sign an agreement before ever leaving London. Harry ain’t exactly stupid, when you get right down to it. That money’s sitting in the bank, so they have to play pretty straight with him. But there is such a thing as love, and I have this insane idea that they might actually make a pretty good marriage out of it.”
“Marriage?” Hamble shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“Yes. Incidentally, if you’re looking for something to do next summer, you might just want to consider coming out. It’s only a couple of months, really. A chance to travel. You can shoot and everything, right, you’re a big strong boy, and there’s going to have to be guards. Otherwise all kinds of poachers and grave robbers will be in there…” There was some safety in sheer numbers. “You might have to do a little work, of course.”
Lots and lots of guns.
“And what about the bloody cat—Ozzie, or whatever?”
“Ah, yes. Mister Day has promised to look after her—it’s a girl, actually. The thing comes and goes, that’s for sure. But there’s no way I could ever bring it home.” It was probably the wrong thing to do and he couldn’t see how it could ever work out.
Certainly, back home in Norfolk, there was no real place for it.
It was a sad admission, but probably true.
Hamble sat there, mouth open, eyes unfocused.
Then he came around, rather quickly, intelligent brown eyes noting again, his tanned and rather daunting friend. Jeremy had filled out, over the summer, and he’d grown an inch or two as well. His voice was deeper and he had this impressive way of thinking a second before he spoke.
He had an air of manly confidence. The boy he’d once been was now someone else, someone truly different. Hamble had always been the lead hand with their little crew and now suddenly something had changed…interesting.
Venezuela?
Excavating the Temple of the Jaguar God?
For money, and everything.
“Right. Right!” Hamble grinned fiendishly, sitting up straighter. “Yes—that might do rather nicely. Do you really mean that? Is that what…er, is that what your Uncle Harry is really saying?”
Jeremy nodded firmly.
“Yup. You know how he loves the Rugby spirit…the right sort of man. A gentleman can do anything, all that sort of thing.”
Hamble choked at little on what was either a laugh or a question.
Jeremy tipped his head to one side, taking a minute and having a thought.
Why not.
Why not indeed.
Hamble was a bloody good fellow.
The best friend he’d ever had, and just when he’d needed a friend the most—
Hamble had stood up for him, which was something unusual in Jeremy’s experience…
“I am, in fact, authorized to offer one or two positions to the right sort of person. And I reckon we’re always looking for talent, Hamble.
”
Well!
That one sort of straightened the bugger up, didn’t it?
End
About Zach Neal
Zach Neal has been writing ever since he can remember. A forestry management professional, he prefers the outdoors to the office. He lives in the Halton Hills overlooking the Greater Toronto Area. He studied at the University of Toronto. Zach’s a single father of two healthy and energetic children. Zach’s boys, Aaron and Jason, mean everything to him.
> Zach Neal <
Table of Contents
Act One
Act Two
Act Three
About Zach Neal