What’s in the Box?
‘What a gloomy, depressing place,’ muttered Drew, scowling at the dank, bare walls of the Cistercian monastery. ‘I thought serving the Lord was supposed to lift the spirits.’
‘To reinforce the merits of a plain and simple life?’ suggested Laura, brightly.
‘Silence!’ barked a voice from behind her.
They emerged into a panelled Hall, where stood Daedalus, flanked on either side by monks armed with pistols. On the floor before him was the crate the Admiral and Drew had recovered. Daedalus smiled at them, flourishing the metal crowbar, evidently determined to savour every moment of his triumph. ‘I thought we would enjoy watching this. You can see the finality of your failure.’ He held out the bar to the monk called Brutus. ‘Open it!’
Brutus stepped forward and put the bar against the lock of the crate. He yanked down hard, the lock splitting and shattering under the pressure. There was a sound of air escaping as the air-tight seal was broken. Daedalus waved him back and grasped hold of the lid, staring straight at the Admiral. He lifted it up, smiling.
There was a breathless pause as everyone looked inside. The smile froze on Daedalus’ face.
The chest was full of bones.
* * *
Gaston was standing in the garden training a pair of binoculars out to sea. As Rebecca came through the gate he turned, dropping the glasses instantly to his waist. ‘Rebecca!’ he called, evidently relieved. He hurried over and reached out to grasp her by the shoulders.
‘Jimmy Hendricks has told me everything! I haven’t slept a wink all night … been watching for you. Are you okay? Where are the others?’
Rebecca told him everything, hugely relieved she did not have to break the news about his father. Gaston ushered her inside to the kitchen where he quickly produced steaming mugs of tea. He sat down heavily, giving her a broad smile before his face became serious again.
‘I was about to go to the Manor. My father left something there for times like this. He said there is a number in the safe if he was ever in dire need. Never explained what he meant. He never told us anything about his work … couldn’t, I suppose. Top secret and all that.’
‘So we’d better go and find it?’ asked Rebecca. ‘Is it a phone number?’
‘Do you know, I have no idea!’ Gaston laughed, before becoming serious again. ‘Sorry, this is all a bit surreal. Nazis, Gold bullion, submarines, the dead coming back to life … The old rascal! Is he going to cop it when I see him!’
* * *
Daedalus was apoplectic with rage. His lips shrunk to a thin, creased line, veins bulging on his temples, his eyes ablaze with fury. For a few seconds he shook uncontrollably, until his eye fell on the Admiral.
‘So?’ He screamed, his voice echoing off the walls, shocking in its intensity. ‘Where is the gold? What have you done with it?’
Admiral Dewhurst-Hobb shrugged his shoulders, his surprise genuine. ‘I have no idea,’ he said, his tone quiet and measured. ‘I expected to find it in the casket, just as you did.’
‘Not good enough!’ yelled Daedalus, striding round the opened box and grasping the Admiral by his arms and waving one of the bones in his face. ‘Do you expect me to believe that you know nothing?’
‘That’s what he said,’ said Drew, taking a step forward. Immediately, he was knocked violently to the floor by Brutus.
‘Drew!’ cried Laura, as Drew clutched his shoulder and scrambled to a sitting position, backing away from Brutus.
‘Silence!’ barked Daedalus. ‘Leave him!’ He took a step back from the Admiral, threw the bone away angrily and flexed his hands and fingers. When he spoke again, he seemed to have regained his self- control. ‘Take them away and watch them. Give them some time to reflect on their situation and its … precariousness.’ He narrowed his eyes and stared straight at the Admiral. When his voice came, it barely rose above a whisper. ‘I will have that gold. You will tell me where it is. Or I will have to take certain … measures.’
Daedalus’ gaze locked for a few more seconds. Then he stepped forward and put his hand under Laura’s chin, lifting it gently, before looking at the Admiral again. ‘Beautiful girl … Beauty can be … precarious.’ He let this sink in before clicking his fingers, turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room.