"So, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, we'll move to the fourteenth item on display today, the Flaming Heart. Price is set at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Do I have...oh, that's a lot of hands."
In the course of the bidding, Mr. Ferguson walked in to interrupt the process. He whispered to the auctioneer as everyone waited patiently, except for Adrian. His heart almost stopped. The rate had already crossed half a million before Mr. Ferguson interrupted the process.
The auctioneer smiled at the crowd. That could be her way of apologizing to the group or a way of expressing her surprise. Adrian couldn't wait to hear it. He left his seat and was making for the door.
"Sorry," the auctioneer said. "Someone just called to pledge two million dollars for the item."
A good number of people in the crowd sighed disappointingly. Adrian, who had already gotten to the door, retraced his steps. He bobbled with joy as the figures he had just heard resounded over and over in his head.
The auctioneer had closed the bidding or was about to move to another item on the shelf when she noticed that a hand was still up. The bid paddle with number 177 was still up. The bidder was a young lady. The auctioneer was as surprised as Adrian.
The young lady said, "Three million." A murmur followed it in the background.
"Three million? Sold!" the auctioneer added.
Thirty minutes later, other items were sold out. The young lady that bought the Flaming Heart was a 19-year-old blogger. It seemed odd that a blogger could afford such a big number, but when people learned that her last name was Wordsworth, it began to make sense.
New faces turned up again almost at the close of the meeting. Trade had already been concluded. The timing of the new guests was made fun of by some guests until one of them climbed up to introduce himself. He was in a simple outfit, too casual for a formal gathering. He claimed to be an officer from Interpol, working with the New York Police Department to track down a thief.
"The Flaming Heart artifact is a stolen item from a church cathedral in Spain. We believe it was smuggled into the US via private jet a week ago."
The purchaser, the young Miss Wordsworth, turned to the auctioneer for an explanation. But, instead, she followed the direction of her face to the back and saw cops arresting a 22-year-old man.
"I'm sorry, Miss Wordsworth. That was Adrian Santini, the vendor that delivered the items to us. I should have known when he offered to give us a soft copy of the certificate."
Before the cops collected the item, the young lady requested to take pictures of them. At the time of the bidding, she wasn't as convinced now as she was when she offered to pay three million dollars for the items.
2
Chapter Two
Soucis
Castries, St. Lucia
Harry sat on the deck of the rented villa that Bernice had picked out. A mimosa in his hand, he looked over the breathtaking view of gorgeous St. Lucia with its crystal-clear waters and serene mountains. The destination was Lucia’s’s choice to celebrate their engagement.
He smiled to himself, thinking about how at his old age and after two failed marriages, he never thought he would be able to find love again. Then Bernice Polson swooped into his life with her bright smile and cheerful ways and showed him what it was like to have love again. Harry hated that he was such a romantic, but he could not help himself.
"Are you done with that mimosa, dear? Do you want another?" Bernice called out from inside the house. They had gotten a fantastic deal on a villa in Soucis, Castries, which featured two bedrooms, four guest rooms, a swimming pool, free Wi-Fi, a fully stocked fridge, space for barbeques, and more. Bernice was a real estate agent, and she knew all the best spots.
"If you don't stop giving me all these sugary drinks, you might end up giving me diabetes as well," Harry replied with a chuckle. Bernice pushed the double doors leading to the deck open, with two more glasses of drinks in her hands.
"What do you mean?" she asked, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek, then sat next to him to enjoy the view.
"What? A peck on the cheek? Did we suddenly go back in time to middle school?" Harry joked. Bernice laughed and leaned in to kiss him properly.
"You're such a silly goose. If you're going to have diabetes, it would be from all the sweet and cheesy things you say." Bernice bopped Harry's nose with hers and leaned back into the deck chair, sipping her mimosa.
"I'm only this sweet for you—" Harry was interrupted by the multiple dings from his phone. He frowned and leaned to the side to grab his phone from his pocket. He had instructed his business associates and his assistant not to call or text him while he was vacationing, so it was not surprising to see that the messages were from his daughter.
April had sent him several pictures of different paintings and other artworks that looked very classical.
"What's that?" Bernice asked when she saw her fiancé frown at his phone. Then, finally, he turned the phone to show her.
"April sent me some pictures. I'm not sure what to make of them."
"Wow, they're lovely," she muttered, and went back to sipping her drink, a bit uninterested.
Another ding came in from April, and it was a message. Harry glanced through it then reread it carefully. He was shocked. According to his daughter, the works of art were stolen from a church in Spain. April was very into art and loved to scout galleries searching for anything and everything that caught her eye, sometimes making purchases with her father's money. She painted herself as well sometimes. She was excellent but did not believe it.
Harry responded, asking what she wanted to do, although he already knew that she wanted to learn more about them. It pleased him immensely that she had come to him, so he promised to help.
"Can she let me have you to myself once in a while?" Bernice teased, but she had an undertone of seriousness.
"She just needs me to help her search for something, and she says hi."
"Ugh," she grumbled and got up to go back into the house. Harry grabbed her hand and kissed it as she walked away. He sighed and picked up his phone again. There were some contacts he had in Spain, but there was only one person in particular that he was sure could get him the information he wanted. He hit the dial button and pressed the phone to his ear.
Eric Neumann shuffled across to the kitchen to make himself a hot cup of cocoa. His cats meowed and followed him around, circling his legs as he moved. It was a cold day in Omaha, and the rain was heavily pouring down like the skies were mourning something. He placed a kettle of milk on the stove and reached up for a mug that strained his back slightly.
He found himself thinking about how his 67-year-old body found it difficult to do even the simplest tasks. It saddened him because he did not believe he was that old yet. He was an active young seminarian in Spain, eager to serve God and be the next Alexis Bachelot or Nichola Aubry. Then he discovered things that made him quit the priesthood and run back to America to become a vet like his father always wanted. Sometimes he missed Spain. It was hardly ever cold in Spain.
His cats meowed even louder, trying to catch his attention. He looked down and tsked at them.
"Alright, alright, I'll give you each two treats, and you better leave me after that," Eric said and walked over to the cabinet where he kept the pet food. He ended up pouring the rest of the treats into their bowls. Then his phone started ringing, and the kettle whistled. The combination of the sounds made the cats start to meow loudly again.
"Quiet!" Eric yelled at them, switching off the stove before walking over to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Eric? Eric Neumann?"
He frowned and looked at the receiver; there was no caller ID.
"Who am I speaking to?"
"It's Harry. Harry Wordsworth."
"Oh, my goodness! Harry? Wow. It's so good to hear from you!" Eric exclaimed.
He met Harry in Spain years ago. They had been strangers on a bus, and he had ended up confessing to him t
hat he did not want to be a priest any longer. Harry was still in college then, visiting Spain for his summer break. They exchanged numbers and continued to become close, talking about everything from religion to marriage. But, unfortunately, they lost contact a couple of months before.
"I'm so sorry I've been out of touch. I've been busy with work, and I just got engaged."
"Really? Wow! Congratulations. This is going to be the tenth wife, yes?" Eric teased.
Harry laughed. "Third and hopefully the last. Well, there's a reason why I'm calling."
"I'm sure there is," Eric said and walked into his living room, where his pet macaque hopped onto his shoulder. "Well, let's hear it." He sat on the couch, completely forgetting about his hot cocoa.
"Well, I'm sure you remember my daughter, April. She found a bunch of amazing works of art in an exhibition. She bought them but almost immediately got them taken from her by Interpol. I've sent some pictures to your email, the ones she managed to take before they snatched them up. They were stolen from a church in Spain and are worth quite a fortune. I know you know a lot about these things, and I wanted to know what you could find out."
"Hold on, let me check." Eric grabbed his barely used smartphone and opened his email. He gasped quietly as he stared at the pictures.
"What?" Harry asked. "Did you see something?"
"Quite certainly. There's a masterpiece by Michelangelo among these."
"Incredible. Can you find out more?"
"I definitely will. Give me ’til tomorrow, and I'll find out more."
"Alright. Thank you so much, Eric."
Eric ended the call and slumped back into his couch. The news recalled the memories of his youthful days as a seminarian. He could feel the rush of excitement gushing through his body as he thought of all the possibilities of discovery.
"Remus," he called out to his pet, "can you believe the pot of gold that has landed at my feet? Not gold but like knowledge, which is like gold… You know what I mean?"
The macaque only tilted its head at him and started to hoot. Eric sighed and turned his phone screen to face Remus, scrolling through the pictures.
"Look at this one, this Michelangelo painting, and it's located in Pattanam, Kerla...at least it's supposed to be. That's in India!" he exclaimed, but the primate was still uninterested. Eric got to his feet and moved quickly to his computer to start his research. He burned through the night, searching for anything and everything that could relate to what Harry had sent him.
___________
Soucis
Castries, St. Lucia
"I'm guessing we're not going hiking today anymore," Bernice said, standing in the doorframe of the deck and staring down at her fiancé with evident disappointment.
"I'm so sorry, honey, but he's going to call, and I don't want to miss it."
"Because of April."
"April is my daughter," Harry said, sounding exasperated.
"And I'm your wife!"
"Not yet, " Harry muttered, and immediately regretted it. Bernice just stared at him for a hard minute, then turned around and left.
"Bernie..." He got up to follow her into the house. She went straight to the kitchen and started cleaning, which was her way to keep from getting too angry.
"I'm not your wife yet, sure enough, but you agreed to this trip, and you promised me a good time. Saying something like that to me is so hurtful. Is it too much to ask to have you to myself for two weeks?"
"No, it's not. I'm so sorry, honey, and I really shouldn't have said that. It was uncalled for."
"Whatever," Bernice responded and stormed off to their bedroom. Harry sighed and found a seat. In all honesty, the only thing in his head was the pictures that April had sent to him. April's mother tried hard to poison their daughter against him, and it worked to an extent because they barely spoke, so he loved to grab on to moments where she reached out to him.
Harry turned his head when he heard noises coming from their room, but he knew better than to speak to her when she was still angry. Instead, he would wait until the evening when she was calmer. He grabbed his phone and started searching more on the artwork, then eventually fell asleep on the couch.
Eric was frantic. He could hardly believe his eyes as he kept scrolling through the pictures. All the tiredness and aches Eric felt in his body earlier had disappeared almost completely. Instead, he could feel all his youthful excitement bubbling up inside.
He had to move his investigations to the study that he barely used. It was dusty and dark, but he managed to locate the texts that he needed. Then, a bolt of lightning flashed across the room, and thunder clapped above him. The rain was getting heavier, but Eric barely noticed.
"Do you see Remus! It's a miracle! A miracle indeed!" he said to the monkey that just stared at him comically. Many people believed that rhesus macaque was too dangerous to keep as house pets, but Eric formed an immediate bond with the creature when he found him, and apart from tiny tantrums here and there, he was mostly well behaved.
"Aha, here we go. This book is from 1932," Eric told Remus with a chuckle. "There's a particular picture that Harry sent me. I swear I've seen it before..."
He sat on one of the cloth-covered chairs and placed the book on a desk. The top was dusty, so he blew on it to get rid of the dust then started to flip the book gently.
"Where is it...should be...aha! There it is!" he exclaimed when he found the page he was searching for.
"Wow, listen to this, Remus. Pope Leo X, son of Lorenzo de Medici, was known for his hedonistic and lecherous ways. Living as he willed and popularly known to have said, 'Since God has given us the papacy, let us enjoy it.'"
Eric paused and scoffed, "He had several policies that were unknowingly ripping Christendom apart, which later directly led to the Protestant Reformation. For example, the painting to the left done in 1518 shows a portrait of Pope Leo X with Cardinals Guilio de Medici and Luigi de Rossi, who was rumored to belong to a cult group that Leo X was also rumored to have carried out several unseemly transactions with."
Eric sighed and pushed the book back. These kinds of findings led him to quit the seminary in the first place. He believed in God, but he did not believe in people, and people had a way of tainting the teachings of God.
In any case, he would have to do some more close inspections of the pictures and consider if they were the real thing. He found himself daydreaming, then turned to his pet and said, "Remus, do you like the sun? With the money I could get, we could move to Spain again but live like kings this time," to which Remus responded by hooting.
"So, you didn't come to bed last night." Bernice's voice jolted Harry awake. He blinked multiple times and felt his body cramp up from the uncomfortable position he had slept in. He looked up and saw that Bernice was fixing up something in the kitchen.
"What time is it?" he asked in a groggy and hoarse voice but go response. He grabbed his phone and saw that it was ten in the morning. He also had several texts but only one in particular that mattered. It was from Eric Neumann, and it only had one word: JACKPOT. Harry sat up quickly and rubbed his hand over his face to clear the sleep away.
"What is it?" Bernice asked.
"We have to go home," Harry responded. Then, he heard something drop from her hand onto a counter.
"Are you kidding me?" Bernice yelled.
"It can't be helped, Bernie, and I'm so sorry, but—"
"You're always sorry. No."
"What?"
"No! Harry, no. I'm not leaving. We're not leaving, and we're going to enjoy this vacation without your work or meddlesome daughter stressing us."
"She's not meddlesome, Bernie, and you know that. I'm afraid that this is not really up for debate. Pack our bags, and I'll call Johnny now." Harry left the room without giving Bernice another chance to speak. He was very traditional, and it might have been a bit harsh, but he knew how to get what he wanted.
He called Johnny, his pilot, and soon they were on a plane back to the US.
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Although she was very grumpy, she still did as he said, and by afternoon, they were back in his home in Houston, Texas. Unfortunately, she did not speak to him throughout the ride, and as soon as they got home, she had a driver take her back to her place, where she had not been for months. Harry tried talking her out of it, but she only ignored him some more, so he decided to deal with that later.
"Is everything alright, sir?" his assistant asked as they watched her being driven off.
Harry sighed and shrugged. "It'll be fine. Sorry to interrupt, Eric Neumann will be will be joining us in aa while. Make sure he's brought to my study immediately."
"Yes, sir."
About twelve hours later, Eric arrived at Harry's mansion and found himself in awe of how the wealthy lived. Harry was delighted to see Eric and offered him so much that Eric was overwhelmed, but he declined.
"I don't want to talk about what I want to eat or bathe with. But, what you sent me, what I discovered from it could alter so much that we know…and offend a lot of Roman Catholics."
Harry eyed Eric for a moment, then smiled.
"Let's talk about that then."
3
Chapter Three
Houston, Texas
The gold bubbles of the Dom Pérignon rose to the rim of the tall stemmed glass, and Harry smiled with pure satisfaction. He held out the glass to Eric like a prized trophy and raised his brows in question.
"No thanks. You have made me a second offer, but I'm sorry I can't take it," Eric declined.
"I'm aware that your lips have vowed not to taste the sweet sin of pure delight. The second offer, you say?" Harry sat on the edge of his long mahogany table, which could seat sixteen people at lunch or dinner.
The Lost Treasure of the Aztec Kings Page 2