Frankie froze. Had he said too much already? That was quite a leap, unexpected. Just a lucky guess. Coincidence.
But still worrisome.
Frankie didn't know what to say, and wisely said nothing.
Unusually wise for him.
"Of course," Tony continued, "If the cross isn't a Christian cross, it might have nothing to do with the Vatican. What the hell." He shrugged his shoulders and continued typing. He clicked ENTER, and waited.
One entry popped up.
"Demon Star". That was it. One entry. Along with a drawing that wasn't all that different from Frankie's. All three of them stared at the screen, amazed that they'd actually found something. Not only the cross they'd been searching for, but the lockbox as well. Just like Frankie's drawing.
Tony double-clicked the item and waited a moment for the article to pop up.
Demon Star
The Demon Star, according to legend, is the remains of a meteorite that fell in the area of what is now southern France or eastern Italy in approximately 1200 to 1210 A.D., and was reportedly transported to various locations in what is now northern Greece. The meteorite was to have been used in various ceremonies, and then placed in a specially adorned lockbox to be hidden. Followers of a long vanished pagan sect thought it was a sign from God that they were to overthrow the rule of Rome, especially the religious domination of the Catholic Church.
The box was to have disappeared shortly thereafter. Many feel that the box and star were only symbolic, not actual items, as neither the box nor the remnants of the meteorite it may have contained have ever been seen or reported since.
For further information, click HERE.
Tony clicked for more information, but the screen just went blank. He tried to click back, but the original site would not come back up. Going backwards, the site was simply not there.
Puzzled, he tried to reenter the same search terms, starting from scratch, but this time, nothing came up. He tried the exact same search terms, but still, nothing. He then tried searching for the "Demon Star", but none of the references went to their original site.
Tony just shrugged his shoulders again and turned around. "Beats the hell out of me. I don't know what happened there. One minute there, next gone. Website must have crashed. Anyway, that was it. A meteorite in a box. There's your treasure."
"That's it. A box of rocks." Tony looked at his buddy, and they both started laughing. Frankie was puzzled. He didn't get the joke.
"What's so funny?"
"What's dumber than a box of rocks?" asked Tony. Not waiting, he answered himself. "Anyone looking for a box of rocks."
Frankie turned red. Some treasure. A fucking box of rocks. After all that.
Shit.
He stood up, knocking the chair over backwards. He didn't even bother picking it up.
"Hey, man, anything else you want us to find?" Tony was still laughing.
"Fuck you, asshole." Back to the old Frankie. He stormed out, still hearing the laughs. The rest of the room stared at him as he stomped out. Some Neanderthal pissing in the pool.
He headed home without so much as a glance back.
Tony turned back to the computer, clearing the screen. His buddy crumpled up Frankie's drawing and tossed it into the can.
Not a bad afternoon. Cash AND entertainment.
* * *
Someone else was also very happy. It had been many years, and although he obviously had not sat at a computer watching all that time, the electronics had, and flashed him on the screen. Someone had found the box. Maybe. The search parameters used by the boys flashed alongside it.
'iron lockbox yellow ribbon seals Vatican Khachkar cross'
This was not a random or wild guess hit. The description showed they had more information than was originally posted on the site that had been prepared as bait. When it had been set up, he hadn't actually expected a result; he was just covering his bases. Curiosity seekers might accidentally hit the site, and find the generic information, and move on. But if someone hit it, and actually had information, he would know it by the way they searched, and by their clicking for more information.
That was why he designed the site to close down after the first contact. He could always put it back up if he needed. But this was good. He knew that this person had actually seen it or had first-hand information. Maybe. Not just a guess. Probably. He tried to temper his enthusiasm. Could it be? Finally?
He continued reading the header information. This information encoded the location of the requestor. Using the information, he quickly ran it down using some additional software he had paid a lot of money to get, and a lot more to make sure the seller forgot who bought it, narrowing the IP address to an internet café in Rome. That made it even more reasonable and probably legitimate. He printed out the information to keep a hard copy, and fired up his e-mail. Looking through the list for a moment, he selected a name, then transferred the information to the body of the letter. He was dialing his phone at the same time.
"I have a job for you," as he pressed SEND.
Chapter 10
Frankie's Deal
One phone call led to another, and in less than forty minutes two men were standing outside the café listed as the address the computer had directed them to. They stepped inside, and Manny, the smaller of the two, spoke briefly to the clerk. Their badges looked real enough, the request reasonable, so the clerk pointed to the computer where the two boys were still playing. The men approached them, badges still out.
"Boys, we have a few questions."
"Hang on a sec," replied Tony, concentrating on the game.
The larger man reached over and yanked the plug from the monitor from the wall, turning the screen black.
"What the fuck?" asked Tony, turning around to see who had messed with his game, starting to rise from his chair.
The same man gave him a shove back into that same chair.
The boys recognized instantly that these two weren't messing around, and uncharacteristically shut up, no smart replies from either one.
Manny quickly flashed his badge, then stuck it back in his pocket.
"What's up," asked Tony, finally, his voice cracking. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "I mean, what's the matter? What did we do?"
"What can you tell me about this?" showing them a printout with a sketch, one very similar to the sketch they had seen on line. In fact, it looked as if it had been printed directly from the web site. Had it?
"Why? What's the big deal?" The boys started standing up.
Both were pushed, roughly, back into their chairs.
"Sit down. Where did you get this?" The men had turned on their 'threatening' look, so useful during the collections and enforcement activities they usually performed.
It was usually pretty effective.
It was certainly working now. Both boys suddenly looked scared.
"Hey, no, it wasn't us. I mean, we were here, but this guy came in and paid us to look it up for him. He said he didn't know how to look stuff up on the internet. We didn't know anything was wrong. We were just-"
"Who was he? Where is he now?"
"We don't know, he left. He didn't say who he was or anything. He just gave us some cash to look it up for-"
"Give me something. You must know something about him. Think hard. Now!"
"Honest mister, uh, sir, he didn't say anything, he just left a little while ago, he just-" Tony paused, thinking a moment. "Wait a minute - ,"
Tony reached over to the trashcan, pulled it over to him and looked down inside. Reaching in, he grabbed several crumpled pages, finally selecting one. "He tossed uh," as he was quickly uncrumpling sheets, "he tossed - here it is! He left this behind."
The men turned so they could both see it. That was it. The information. But no name, no number, no idea who. They were as bad off as before, except, maybe - "Give me that," demanded Manny
He held it up, looking at several angles. There it was. Somewhat smeared, but still e
nough they could probably use. The paper was waxy enough that he might have been able to get a print, if he was lucky, but Frankie had helped them out. When sketching the box in the bar, Frankie had left several large, greasy prints. He might just as well have signed it.
Manny grabbed another, blank, sheet of paper from a printer on the table. He lay the crumpled sheet on top, then folded the other sheet around it, as protection. Grabbing another sheet, he jotted down a number and handed it to one of the boys.
"This is my number. If you see this guy, call me right away, and see where he goes. There's a big reward," then added, "but don't say anything about this to anybody, and I mean anybody. Not even another, uh, cop. That number goes to no one but you. Understand?"
The two men glared at the boys, and Manny paused for effect before continuing.
"We can find you. We found you this time. We can find you next time. Don't give me a reason to do that."
Both boys were nodding like bobble head toys in the back window of car.
"Remember," Manny repeated. "A big reward if you have information. Big problems if you talk."
The men left. Outside, the larger one turned to the other. "Shouldn't we have gotten their names and stuff?"
"We can always find them. They got records and stuff of who uses the computers here." The big guy nodded in understanding.
"What ya gonna do with the paper?"
"Me, nothing. But Mr. Depardieu's got connections. I think they can probably get a print from it. Any better ideas?"
"No, no - just askin'. That's a good idea." Manny had lots of good ideas. That's why he was in charge.
"Yea, I know. Here's another idea. How about you just shut up for a while and let me think."
Manny made a quick phone call. He turned away as he talked, and his voice was muffled, but it didn't matter. All the big guy could hear was a sequence of "yes sirs", "no sirs" and a final "I'm headed there now."
* * *
They drove in silence during the quick trip. The car finally stopped directly in front of a police station. Not exactly a police station, but some kind of law enforcement administrative building that included a forensics lab. Not that either of them had any idea what that even was, but that didn't matter.
Mr. Depardieu knew. He always knew.
"Wait here with the car. This shouldn't take too long. And turn it off. What do ya think I'm gonna do in there?" It wasn't unusual for him to keep the car running while Manny would run inside for a minute to discuss something with a 'client'. The engine went silent.
Manny walked into the building, approaching the reception desk.
"Can I help you?" A shapely girl in her twenties smiled at him. Her dark hair curled down both sides of her face, resting on a sweater designed to attract the attention of the men around her.
It worked.
Her name tag read Andrea. Manny smiled back, with his oiliest, slickest smile, intended to disarm people. He had no idea how much it worked in reverse.
"Why, yes you can, miss." He smiled at her again. That sweater is way too small for her, he thought, fits her just right. And, his line of though continued, I can see she wants me. Anyone could see by the way she smiled at me. "Actually, I'm here to see a Detective Tomosa. Is he available?" He put his smile back on.
"Just one moment, please. I'll check for you." She stood up and ducked around a divider, and Manny saw her head down a short hall before knocking and entering one of the doors. He lost sight of her.
"Detective? There's some guy out front asking for you. Real creepy guy. You want me to send him back or what?"
"No, no way. I know who it is, and I don't want him anywhere near my stuff. I'll come up there." He rose and followed her back down the hall. Passing through the security door, he greeted Manny.
"You got it? Let me have it."
"Detective. Now is that any way to be sociable? In front of my new friend Andrea here?" Manny handed the folded sheets to the Detective. "Shall I wait here for you?"
Detective Tomosa looked at Andrea, who, out of sight of Manny, was shaking her head no.
"No. No, you wait outside. I'll bring it out when I get done."
Manny nodded, turned to where he could see the receptionist again, and gave a little tip of an imaginary hat, along with just the slightest bow at the waist, winking at her, before heading outside to the entryway.
Andrea shuddered. "What a creep."
Tomosa gave a little laugh. "You have no idea. Stay away from him. You see him on the street, cross over and walk the other way." Punching the code to the security door, he went back inside.
Manny left the building, walking slowly back to the car. His buddy, seeing him approach, hopped out to hold the door. "Got it?"
"Not yet. Get back in the car. It'll be a few minutes." He glanced back at the building, and saw Andrea looking out the window at him. She really does have the hots for me. If that asshole Tomosa hadn't kicked me out of there, I'd have had her number by now. Putting on his most debonair look, he leaned against the car and pulled out a cigarette. He slowly lit it, taking a deep drag, and casually looked back over to where she was watching. He smiled at her again.
She quickly pulled the shades. He laughed, and took another drag. Snuffing it out on the light pole next to the car, he flicked the butt towards the building. It reached the top step, falling just shy of the doorway. It paused a moment before the breeze swirled around the doorway, sending the butt back to the sidewalk not so far from where it started.. Not bad, he thought, judging the toss, both distance and accuracy, maybe even points for style. He leaned back against the car and waited.
* * *
It was less than five minutes before the detective came outside. He looked down at the cigarette butt, still smoldering, then up at Manny, then back down at the butt. He kicked it toward the street, where it landed a few feet from Manny's foot. He handed Manny a folded piece of paper.
"Here it is. Two people. One, no record on file. Nothing. Probably somebody at that café. The other one, this one, showed up. But he's a nobody too. Picked up a couple of times drunk and disorderly. Nothing big. Few fines. At the time of his arrest, it says he was working maintenance at the Vatican. What you want with him?"
"Me? I don't want nuthin' with him. But Mr. Depardieu, he has some questions. I don't speak for Mr. Depardieu. I just do what he says." Taking a drag on his new cigarette, he added "Like you."
Detective Tomoso's face suddenly turned scarlet, and he grabbed the front of Manny's collar, almost lifting him off his feet. When his buddy started to get out of the car, Tomoso pointed at him.
"Stay right there. Don't you move." He looked like he meant it, and could back it up.
The man didn't move.
Turning back to Manny, he brought his face nearly up to him, close enough for Manny to tell exactly what he'd had on his sandwich. Tomoso's face, already scarlet, turned darker still, a single vein across his forehead popping out.
"You listen to me, asshole, and listen closely. I'm saying this once. You tell that prick that we are even. I'm done. I don't owe him nothin', and he ain't getting nothin' else from me. And if you, or him," pointing inside the cab, "or even Depardieu, so much as spits on the sidewalk, I will be all over you."
He let his collar loose, and Manny reached up to smooth his shirt. Tomoso was still just inches away. "You got it?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. I got it. You sure you want me to pass that on to Mr. Depardieu? He might find it a little, shall we say, disrespectful?"
"Damn right I want you to pass it on. I don't care what happens. We are done. You've got your fucking name, and that's the last little chore he gets out of me. Period. If he needs anything else, well, you can tell him I'm not doing anything for him. I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire."
He paused, thinking about it. "Well, maybe. After he burned for a while. I might piss on him. But not enough to put it out. Tell him that. Capiche?"
"Okay, okay. I'm out of here." Manny handed the detective a c
ard. "Could you give that to Andrea for me?"
The detective stared at him, and the card, and back at him again, before tearing the card in half, then into quarters, and finally into tiny little pieces. Holding his hand out at arm's length, he let the pieces slow filter from his hand into the gutter. Then he picked up the cigarette butt and flicked it inside Manny's car. "Saving you a ticket for littering." Then he turned and went back inside the station.
Manny stole a quick glance at the window. He saw Andrea peeking through a corner, then quickly again closing the curtains. He smiled at her again.
He climbed into the car, unfolding the paper. He studied it for a moment, picturing the address in his head before speaking.
"Okay. Here it is. Let's go see this Mr. Uh, Mr. Frank Notini."
* * *
Frank arrived home about two hours after leaving the boys. He'd stopped for a quick one, a well-deserved one, in his mind, and then another. All things considered, he wasn't there all that long before deciding to head home.
Emotionally, he'd been on a rollercoaster. At first, when he thought he had an honest-to-God treasure, he'd been ecstatic. Then, realizing he had nothing but the proverbial 'box of rocks', he sank just about as low as he'd ever been. He'd felt the frustration and anger flowing through him as he reached for another drink. His guardian angel, he'd long decided, was sitting in a bar, just like him, but across town, with no interest in helping him out. It seemed his angel must have gotten bored, slipped out of whatever bar he had been hiding in, and just for pure entertainment, had picked Frankie up and body slammed him to the ground.
How else to explain what had happened to him?
The bartender had been a little leery – for good reason. Frankie had been in such good spirits a short while before, and here he was, back, in a far less desirable, but far more common, mood.
SUMMATION Page 7