by Ben Hammott
Furtive stepped toward Butler and took the painting from him. Butler turned his nose away and leapt back. Furtive folded the top painting over on itself, made a few adjustments and then stood back. "Okay, Butler, what do you see?"
At first Butler saw nothing, but when he included what Furtive had said about the eyes and ears, an image formed. "Could it be so simple?" he questioned.
"It would explain that strange clause in Jacobus's will," said Ebenezer.
"What clause would that be, Sir?"
Ebenezer explained. "The clause states the castle could only be owned by a Drooge, that the owner must feed Diablo every day and if the food remained un-eaten for longer than a week, meaning it was probably dead, a message must be sent to the address included in the clause and a replacement would be brought. It even includes a failsafe if the Drooge family line died out. Failure to adhere to any stipulations in this clause would result in the family member responsible being turned out of the castle without a penny and with only the clothes on their back."
"So he hid his wealth in the quarry somewhere, knowing no one would dare enter because of Diablo."
"Exactly!" said Ebenezer. "It's the perfect hiding place and Diablo is the perfect guardian."
"I've been in the quarry," said Furtive. "I only saw a little and that was a big area, it won't be easy to find."
"That's where you are wrong, Furtive. I know exactly where it is." Ebenezer tapped the image of the red eyed wolf baring its fangs. "Diablo's lair!"
Butler stared at the scary image. "I suppose the reversed manor and castle was the clue to match them together. Here like this," he pointed to the painting, "the two castles are on top of each other and folded back to reveal two manors. It's so vague if Furtive hadn't glimpsed something we may never have worked it out."
Ebenezer smiled at the burglar. "Yes, well done Furtive."
"I wonder what we'll see if we put the two Drooge Manors together and fold half the painting back?"
"Good point, Furtive, let's try." Butler flipped the folded painting over and repositioned it on the other half of the painting.
All three stared at the image and though there seemed to be something there, none of them could work out what it was.
Butler tilted his head to the side and thought he saw something. He grabbed the paintings and turned them so they were upside down and slowly the details faded together.
Two dark patches in the rocks became eye sockets with a single white bloom in their centers; an outcrop of rock became a nose and a fissure was now lips. Clumps of bushes become ears and moss a beard.
Ebenezer and Butler glanced at the portrait on the wall.
"It's Jacobus!" stated Ebenezer.
Unlike the stern features of the man's likeness in the portrait, his image in the painting smirked at them.
Lurch shouted down the staircase. "Sir, I think we might have a problem."
Butler rushed to the window. In the distance a group of men stampeded along the road toward the Manor. At a less hurried gait followed a lone man; Sebastian. "Furtive, do you have a pair of binoculars?"
"I'm a thief, ain't I? Of course I have binoculars." He thrust a hand into a pocket and rummaged around. "Any particular make or magnification?"
Butler turned his head to look at the thief. "The strongest you have."
Furtive pulled out a small red pair. "Oops, they are me opera glasses. His hand returned to his pocket.
"You go to the opera?" said Butler in surprise.
"Only to find out what toffs aren't at home so I can go to their house and rob 'em."
"I suppose that makes sense and rather clever. I'm surprised you aren't a rich thief by now." Butler took the next pair of binoculars to appear in Furtive's hand, turned to the window and put them to his eyes.
"It's me own fault I'm not. Drink and gambling is my curse. I spend quicker than I can steal."
Butler focused in on the men; all were heavily armed. He repositioned his view upon Sebastian. His face was a mask of angry determination that informed Butler if Sebastian had previously worn gloves, they were now definitely off.
"What do you see?" Ebenezer asked.
"Nothing good, Sir. Your brother and his men are coming and I fear this time they won't stop until they have the paintings."
Ebenezer decisively grabbed his painting from the table and threw it into the fireplace. Flames hungrily began to devour it. The oil paint blistered and burst into flame.
Butler's brow creased in a frown "Perhaps not the wisest move, Sir. If your grandfather's inheritance is not where you think it is there will be no second chance to find it."
"It's there, Butler. I've never been more certain of anything in my life." Ebenezer grabbed Sebastian's painting and gave it to Butler. "Return this to my brother; it may quell his thirst for revenge."
"Without yours to accompany it, I find that very doubtful, Sir." Butler opened the window, threw the painting out and closed it. "I suggest we make sure the prisoners are secure and move ourselves out of harm's way through the secret tunnel."
"And go find Jacobus's long lost inheritance," added Ebenezer.
"Lurch, we won't be able to take the wheelchair."
"No problem, Sir, he's not heavy. I'll carry him." He lifted his master from the chair and put him on his back.
"I'm not a sack of coal, be a bit gentler with my old body."
"Sorry, Sir."
"Okay, let's get going before our uninvited guests arrive." Butler led them from the room.
ESCAPE AND RESCUE
Butler, with lantern in hand and a fast pace to his feet, led the oddball group down the steps and across the rickety bridge.
Shadow, who was only a few steps behind them, had decided to follow them and take charge of as large a portion of the treasure as it was possible for one person to carry when it was found.
Their dash through the underground realm was a wise move.
Though not totally unexpected, when Sebastian had gone to his hidden museum to check all was in order and discovered the room absent its hunchback guardian and his painting stolen, the man was livid. When he set his art appreciative eyes upon the painting that had replaced his, the amateurish grotesque rendering of his brother's naked butt violated his mind, body and soul. Any unwritten rules that may have existed were torn to shreds and promptly burnt. With a face as red and angry as the boil festering on his brother's butt cheek that had recently stared out at him from the picture a moment ago, Sebastian had stormed from the room.
Though Flint Stone and his men had expected their employer to return in a good mood, a smile on his lips and generous thoughts of handing out Christmas bonuses for a job well executed, as soon as they saw the furious look upon his face all thoughts of praise and bonuses of any description quickly evaporated.
Fuming, Sebastian paused in the doorway and glared fiercely at the anxious expressions of his employees.
When after a few moments he had still not said anything, Flint asked the worst question he possibly could in the current situation. "Is everything alright, Sir?"
Slowly Sebastian turned his head to stare at Flint. "IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT! Hold on, let me see. I return home from a not too entertaining party to discover the one thing I had spared no expense to protect, including the hiring of the eight men in this room, a hunchback who came highly recommended, arranged security a flea would have trouble passing through, and yet, despite all these precautions the impossible has happened; my painting has been stolen."
Flint glanced at the rolled canvass held in his employer's hand. "Stolen, Sir, are you sure?"
As you can tell by his latest inquiry, Flint is at the top of his class when it comes to choosing questions that should not be asked.
"AM I SURE?"
Though Flint tried to ignore the smoke whooshing out of his employer's ears, it was so fascinating he couldn't help but stare.
"OF COURSE I'M SURE!"
He unrolled the painting and held it up for all in the room to s
ee.
A shocked gasp travelled the length of the room until it was spoilt by the man at the back, who screwed up his eyes to get a better look at the painting.
"Is that an elephant?" He used his recently cleaned pistol to point at certain details, which caused all those directly in its path to duck. "I can make out the long trunk and its left eye, but the right pink one seems too small and too centralized." His gun waved to the right. "It should be over a bit."
The man directly in front, leaned forward and whispered in the art critic's ear the exact nature of the painted image.
The man was so shocked his finger tensed on the trigger. A gunshot echoed through the corridor. A bullet sped down its length, went through the painting and whizzed past Sebastian's ear.
Sebastian put his eye to the hole and peered through at the man who had fired the shot.
The guilty man quickly hid the weapon behind his back and stared at the eye peering through the hole his bullet had made through the detail he had believed to be a small pink eye. "Erh! That's very disturbing. Does anyone else find that rather creepy?"
The others stared at the eye the far side of the hole and saw it blink and though all thought it was the creepiest thing they had ever seen, they kept their opinions to themselves.
In an attempt to restore some sort of order to the proceedings, Flint took it upon himself to ask another of his questions that should never be asked. "So, Mr. Sebastian, this painting is definitely not your missing painting?"
The eye looked at Flint. Slowly the offensive image was lowered. "Is the repulsive subject portrayed so amateurishly here look like something I would own?"
Flint, forever one to push his luck, shrugged. "Not knowing you very well, Sir, or indeed any peculiar tastes you may have, I find your question impossible to answer. But be assured, none of us here are passing judgment. We all have different tastes in art. Now me, I like a nice landscape, but I know people who…"
"SHUT UP!"
"Of course, Sir. Shutting up immediately."
Sebastian threw the painting to the ground. "If I don't get my painting back, deaths will occur. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" His gaze looked at each man in turn until it fell upon the man at the back who had raised a hand. Sebastian sighed. "It was a rhetorical question."
"Oh, yes, Sir, I understand that alright. It was about the painting why I raised my weaponless arm. I was wondering like, that if you don't want it, could I have it?" He looked at his angry employer hopefully.
"Ignore him, Sir, he's an idiot." Flint stepped in front of Sebastian to block his view of the man. "We understand your orders completely, Sir, and they will be obeyed," he said confidently.
With a puzzled expression professionally painted upon his face, Sebastian tilted his head to the side so he could peer around Flint and see the idiot at the end of the room again. "You really like the painting?"
The idiot nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes, Sir, I really do. It's got a certain appeal I can't quite work out and I am certain the wife will like it. It'll look great in a nice frame. We always wanted a nice bit of art to hang on the wall, a sort of talking piece for when we have guests, like."
Sebastian shook his head in amazement. "There is no accounting for some people's taste. Flint, pick it up and give it to the art blind idiot, the further it is away from my sight the better."
"Yes, Sir." Flint picked up the painting and passed it to the man behind him. "Pass it along lads."
Held between two fingers and with eyes averted from the unholy image, the painting was passed back to the idiot.
He proudly took charge of it and rolled it up. "Thank you, Sir."
Sebastian dismissed the thanks with a casual wave of the hand and looked at his second in command. "Maybe I was hearing things, Flint, but I am certain a moment ago you informed me, quite confidently as I recall, that you all understood my orders and would obey them."
"One hundred percent correct, Sir. We are to find and return to you your painting that in no way resembles a degusting, deformed elephant."
Sebastian placed his hands behind his back, grasped them together and leaned forward. "And yet here you all stand. Is your plan to wait here for the thief to bring back my painting and hand it to you?"
Flint smirked. "No, Sir, I think that's highly unlikely."
Sebastian shook his head. "Now I am seeing things, because if that is a real smile on your lips, I will cut them off and make you eat them."
Flint's smile disappeared. "Not a smile, Sir. Definitely not a smile." He spun around. "Okay, men, on the double now, let's go and get Mr. Sebastian's painting back for him."
Keen to be away from Sebastian's wrath, the men poured through the far exit.
"I'll be having a drinks party next week if anyone wants to come," said the idiot.
No one accepted the invitation.
"I don't care how you do it or who gets harmed. I want my painting, as well as Ebenezer's, in my hands before the sun rises!"
"Yes, Sir, we'll do our best," called out Flint a moment before he rushed through the door.
Sebastian followed at a slower pace and attempted to piece together what had taken place that night. It was obvious now that Crakett was actually working for his brother. What about Shadow? Where did the assassin thief's loyalties lie? He had to assume the worst; Shadow could not be relied upon. They would all die for their deceit, but how could this and the retrieval of the paintings be achieved? His incompetent men were no match for the skills of Crakett and Shadow and perhaps even the thief, Furtive, Ebenezer had hired. Or was that just a ploy to distract him. And how did the hunchback manage to climb up the narrow chimney? But even more of a mystery is how could the person who painted that picture stare at his brother's disgusting rear end long enough to record its details onto canvas? Nothing made sense anymore. There was only one thing he could do. He would have to take control.
With vengeance guiding his thoughts, Sebastian strode along the corridor and up the stairs.
Butler entered the old secret study. Kicked the armchair aside, tore back the rotten rug and knelt to raise the trapdoor hidden beneath. He held up the lamp and told Furtive to enter. "It only leads in one direction so you won't get lost."
Furtive clambered down.
"Butler lifted Ebenezer off Lurch's back and waited while Lurch squeezed his large bulk through the small opening."
"Isn't this exciting, Butler. Just what the doctor ordered."
"Em, no, not really, Sir. If I recall, what the doctor actually said when he took your pulse, was, 'I have known corpses to have stronger pulses than yours. It's so weak if you experience anything more exciting than a sudden change in the weather your heart would likely curse your stupidity and promptly decide enough is enough and explode.'"
Ebenezer looked at Butler. "It would be nice if once in a while you let one slip by."
"And give up one of my few moments of fun? It's the only thing that gets me through the day, Sir."
"Okay, I'm ready Mr. Butler. Pass him down."
Butler handed Ebenezer to Lurch and climbed into the opening. He paused and stared over at the far side of the room. He thought he had detected a movement, a passing shadow. His gaze searched the darkness but found nothing that should not be there. He climbed down and caught up with the others.
The assassin thief stepped out of the shadows, walked over to the trapdoor and listened to the sound of fading footsteps. When they had reached a safe distance, Shadow followed.
Furtive reached the end of the tunnel and paused at the steps leading up. He directed his head lantern aloft to highlight the bottom of the trapdoor and the two iron bolts holding it firmly in place. He turned as the others arrived.
"Slide back the bolts and give it a shove with your shoulder," instructed Butler.
Furtive did as instructed but the trapdoor was heavier than he expected. He gave it a more forceful push. The soil, grass and weeds that had grown over it slid off when it swung open. Furtive poked his head abov
e ground and looked at the ring of rocks surrounding the secret door. He climbed out and passed through a gap between the stones. Castle Drooge stood about quarter of a mile distant. He turned and saw Drooge Manor just as far. Lurch and Ebenezer joined him, Butler a couple of moments later. They all stared toward the Manor as the sounds of pistols shots and breaking glass rang out.
"They are ruining your home, Sir," said Butler.
Ebenezer was unconcerned. "It's already a ruin. They can burn it to the ground for all I care. I'll buy a new one far from here when we find the inheritance."
Furtive pointed at one of the figures heading toward the manor. "There's your brother, Mr. Ebenezer."
Ebenezer glanced at Sebastian and smiled. "I would have loved to have been there when he discovered his painting had been stolen and replaced with the one you painted, Butler."
"Yes, Sir, I was particular proud of the lighting on your septic boil. It looked so real I often thought it might burst."
Ebenezer sniggered. "Ah, fun times, eh, Butler."
"Maybe now, Sir, now the image of your naked boil adorned butt has begun to fade. I'm sure it's hard to decide which caused your brother the biggest shock, discovering his painting was missing, or setting eyes upon the one that had appeared."
"Maybe I'll ask him one day, but not today. Let's keep moving while Sebastian is distracted."
To the sound of gunshots, breaking glass and excited shouts, the four men rushed across the open ground toward the quarry.
Shadow had smiled on learning of Butler's masterpiece swapped for Sebastian's painting. Though a strange mix, they seemed like a fun crowd. It would be a shame if one or more of them had to die, but the life of an assassin thief was not meant to be fun or filled with compassion. What must be done will be done swiftly and decisively, emotions would play no part. Shadow glanced at the manor, slipped from the top of the rock, landed silently on the ground and set off in pursuit.
They had almost reached the quarry entrance when Furtive glanced back. What he saw caused him to stop. The others joined him in staring at Drooge Manor and the flames in one of its upstairs windows.