Henry Wood: Time and Again: (20 page)

“Oh, I'm not done. It appears the paper is still around, though it has grown beyond the business of the Thorstians, and my friend was able to talk to the editor, who was there when it happened. He didn’t have many details beyond the article, but he did say that there were still those who believed they had been betrayed. It was also rumored that the remaining Thorstians had an idea who it might be and had vowed to see them dead and to do anything to get their treasure back. My friend found the name in an old newspaper article ‘Eye of God’ and got a description. He says it sounds very similar to the Antikythera mechanism, but that the Eye of God was in working condition, though the editor didn’t think it really did anything. I trust my friend, but I may have opened a can of worms by letting him in on our secret. I'm going to need to come up with a reason for giving up on the research.”

“You made the right move. This is exactly what our client wants to know. It will help justify our fee and keep him happy while I continue to look for Mickey’s killer. Oh, and that reminds me, I meant to call you yesterday. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I asked another friend to look into it as well.”

“Really? You doubted me.” He sounded a little hurt, but mostly curious.

“His name is Bobby. He's a strange little guy who rented me my current office. He wanted to help on the case, so I thought I would throw him a bone. I don’t expect him to have any luck, but I wanted you to know. He is an annoying little fellow, but is starting to grow on me.”

“You are a kind man, Henry Wood. I'd like to meet Bobby, and I'll bring him up to speed on what I've found. Make him feel like part of the team.”

“You’re aces, Prof. Pop by the office later, and I'll introduce you.”

Henry almost made a call to Dr. Schaeffer, but thought better of it. It was still pretty early, so it could wait. Starting off the day with a little good news helped his hangover.

Chapter Forty-Three

Patrick had been filling boxes for a couple of hours. The radio's volume was barely audible, not much more than white noise. Humming to himself, he applied the packing tape. He had done a lot of soul searching and was at peace with his decision to get out of the business. Maybe he would try painting something not painted before or…perhaps not. It might be nice just to sleep, drink, and wile away the hours.

The phone, under a box, gave a muted ring.

“Yes?”

“I have the final location finished. When will the showings begin?”

“I'll have a schedule delivered to you tomorrow.”

There was a click on the other end, which Patrick liked. Short, to the point, and once the question was answered, done. He continued to pack as he thought about how he would word the invites for the viewing. Short and sweet, a quick review of the process, though it wasn’t necessary, as they had all been through his auctions. He would start with Dr. Schaeffer, as he was always polite, which Patrick appreciated. Then he would invite Andre Garneau, who was seldom polite, usually annoying, and such a pain, he wanted to get him out of the way. Mr. Brown, sadly, had passed.

The phone rang again. A thick accent, speaking too quickly for Patrick to understand, was shouting at him.

“Who is this, and what do you want?”

“We want what is ours,” the voice said more clearly. Then the line clicked off.

Patrick sat down. This was upsetting. In all his years, he had never had one of his deals go south. Too much was getting out of control. Patrick didn’t like this at all.
How in the hell has anyone gotten this number?
he thought. He spent a few minutes trying to figure out how many times he had given it out. Six times, all to people he trusted. He stopped packing. He could send for the stuff later. Patrick put on his collar and headed off to the church. Paranoia began its assault on his calm.

***

Celine had the office open, and Henry noticed a new plant.

“That is a nice touch. What kind is it?”

“It is the green kind.”

“You don’t know?”

“I liked the shape of the leaves and thought it would look good in the corner, which it does. I have named it 'Betty.' She is a friendly plant.”

“Is she?”

“Yes, in fact, I believe she will be an excellent guard plant.”

Henry sensing that this could go on for a while, said, “Any messages?”

“Yes, the professor is on his way, as is Mike. Bobby called too; he is very excited. He found something out, but was talking too quickly for me to understand what. I imagine he may have had a stroke, so I don’t expect we will see him. I hope not, but he was pretty wound up.”

“He will be fine. It’s his way.”

Henry grabbed a cup of coffee. He placed a call to update Dr. Schafer, who was pleased to hear from him. Then he dug out Mickey’s notebook and recopied the pages he had given the captain, in his own notebook. It was still troubling Henry that he couldn’t decipher Mickey’s code.

The phone rang and Celine answered it. Henry was pleased with his hire. He heard her answering a few questions; it was obviously a wife looking to catch her husband. She told her they were booked, but could set up an appointment for next week.

He turned back to his deciphering and noticed the words seemed to have fewer vowels than he would have expected. He remembered a time, when they were both drunk. Mickey had made a toast, “To words with no vowels.” Henry thought it was one of the funniest things he had ever heard. Now there were a bunch of words without vowels, but they weren’t really words at all. Henry counted the number of letters in each group, but that didn’t get him anywhere. Maybe each letter equaled a numeric, he thought to himself.

Henry wasn’t sure, but his gut told him he was on the right track. The phone rang again. He ignored it until Celine said, “Mr. Wood, a woman named Luna, for you.”

“Hey Luna, how are you feeling today?”

She laughed. “I took the day off from the bakery. I'm feeling a little rough.”

“Me too, but I owe Mickey, so I dragged myself out of bed.”

A heavy sigh came, then, “I feel just terrible about Mickey, even though I never met him. After hearing the stories last night, I know I would have liked him a lot.”

“You did a good job with the wake. Mickey would have loved it. I like to think he was watching.”

“So you made it home all right…er…obviously, I guess.”

Henry sensed the question not being asked, but didn’t want to discuss it. “Yes.”

“Good, well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll let you get back to work. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks Luna, you are a good friend.”

The sound of Bobby coming was unmistakable. The decoding would have to wait.

Chapter Forty-Four

Bobby shut the door, louder than he intended. "Sorry." He opened it up again, peeked through at Celine, then whispered, "Sorry, I didn't mean to slam the door."

Celine giggled.

"Henry, I have a friend, well, really more of an acquaintance. He lives in London, drinks too much, but he's really smart. He used to work for a guy who was some professor at Oxford. You know, tweed suits, proper accent, snooty attitude.... Well, I met the professor once. It was a few years ago…” He took a breath and looked up at the ceiling. “…no, I think it has been almost ten years ago...wait, it was before the war. It was a long time ago. I didn’t think he would remember me, so I called Norton. Norton is my friend, well, acquaintance. I like him well enough; I suppose we could be friends. It is hard though, him living in London and all.”

Henry listened. Bobby seemed to be on a roll, and disrupting his runaway train of thought could be dangerous. It wasn’t worth the risk.

“So I called Norton yesterday. He was pleased to hear from me. It was late afternoon, so he had a few pints in him, but he could still talk. Sometimes he can’t, he gets drunk and his accent is so thick I can’t make out a word. I asked him if he knew if the guy he worked for at Oxford was still there teaching. He said, 'No, he is here drinking.' He then went on to tell me a lengthy story of how the professor got kicked out for a transgression with a grad student. He said it was rather unseemly and rather funny. I could tell you the story, but I'm sure you want me to get to the point.”

“I think that boat has sailed.”

“Boat? Oh, you mean ship. Yes, you are right, the ship sailed a few weeks ago.”

Bobby didn’t catch the joke, which made it all the funnier to Henry, but he controlled his smile. “I fear you have lost me. Could you back up to the professor?”

“Oh yes, well, the professor got on the phone and he remembered me, called me a good American chap. He is really quite nice. I feel bad that he lost his job. I asked him if he knew anything about secret societies and ancient artifacts. Could I have some coffee?”

Henry stood up. “Please keep going, I’ll get you a cup.” Henry poured a cup while Bobby talked at a blistering pace.

“He said he knew everything about secret societies and ancient artifacts. I think this was a bit of a boast, and it was obvious he had a few pints in him as well, but I believe he knows a lot. I had written down the name of the device. I don’t remember it now, weird name, but he knew it. As soon as I asked about the anti-thingy, he said he knew of it, but also knew something else. He said it was something nobody knew. Then he ordered another beer. I didn’t think it would help, but what could I do?”

Henry handed Bobby the cup of coffee. Bobby took a breath and a sip. “You got any sugar?” Henry handed him the sugar and a spoon. “Okay, where was I? Oh yes...so I asked him what the thing was that nobody knew, and he said there was a secret society, which had almost disappeared during the war, but there were rumors they had survived. I didn’t know what he was talking about, but he kept going. They are called the 'Thorstians,' and they are from Greece. I remembered their name, because I knew it was important.”

Henry was surprised that Bobby could get so far, and though he already knew about the Thorstians, he flipped open his notebook and wrote it down. Bobby spelled it for him. “Good find, Bobby.”

“Oh, that isn’t all. The professor went on to tell me that they had their own anti-thingy, but it was much better, and had strange powers.”

“What sort of powers?”

“The members of the Thorstians had used it to bring good fortune to their friends and great tragedy to their enemies. He said it didn’t always work, and there were times it backfired, but eventually they figured out how to read the dials. Once they understood when it could be used, they were able to find answers to questions, and from there profit greatly. One member had a maritime insurance business, and he would ask if a ship he was considering insuring was doomed. In the first year, he turned away five contracts, and all five ships sank. All of the ships he wrote that year sailed without incident. He told another story of a member who used it to find the woman he was to marry. He had lots of other crazy stories, but at the end, he told me it had been stolen during the war. Not by the Nazis or something, but by a handful of the members, who had taken it and seemingly disappeared. He said the item is priceless, even if the stories about its powers aren’t real. He also said it could become invisible. I didn’t believe that last part. This is really good coffee.”

Henry was now writing furiously. This might explain why some would kill for it.
People have killed for less,
he thought.

“The weird part was this: he knew that the Thorstians had recently discovered that the artifact was heading to New York, to be sold in some secret auction. He also said that the Thorstians almost had the culprits, but that they slipped through their fingers. Now they are in NY, trying to find out about the auction. I asked how he found out this last bit, but a song broke out in the pub, and he was gone. Norton got back on the phone, and we talked a little bit more, but I never got to speak with the professor again.”

Henry was writing intently and didn’t even notice that Bobby had left. He was in the waiting room telling Celine the same story. Henry thought he heard him jumping with excitement. Celine could be heard encouraging him to "go on."

Henry took a sip of his own coffee and started to reach for the phone, though it wasn’t ringing yet. Just then, it did, and he grabbed it before Celine could. “I got it. Hello.”

“It’s Mike. A buddy called...they fished two Greek guys out of the Hudson. My gut tells me you should get down there and check it out."

Chapter Forty-Five

Father Patrick wasn't much into religion before he donned his collar, but he didn't mind his cover. He liked the church; he enjoyed working with the elderly and hearing confession. His favorite part was the quiet, closely followed by the sound of a choir practicing to an empty room. He often spent hours sitting in the back of the church, listening with his eyes closed. Today a group of men were singing some sort of Gregorian chant. It was delightful; he would have listened, but had too much to do.

As he walked to his office, Patrick sensed people shifting their gaze. The greetings were muted. The little voice in his head was issuing warnings. Patrick knew better than to tune out the little voice. He opened his office door.