The Billionaire’s Curse (21 page)

Gerald mouthed, “Come on,” and pushed open the door. They hurried across to a glass cabinet of Arthurian trinkets and were able to hide within earshot of the professor.

“How did you come by this, Jervis?” McElderry asked the man behind the counter. “I need to be sure of its provenance.”

The man let out a wracking cough.

“It turned up in the barn of old Glenn Crowther. He passed away a few months ago, but I only got the call to look over his things this week,” the man said.

He peeled back a layer of black cloth on the countertop and the professor peered down at what it contained.

“It has the markings on it, just like you described,” the man said.

“So I see,” the professor murmured. He bent low to the counter, squinting close through his glasses. “It certainly looks the goods. How did this Crowther fellow get hold of it?”

“He was the oldest stonemason in the district,” the man said. “He would have worked on every major building in this area.”

“Including St. Michael’s Tower?”

“Yes, including St. Michael’s. It’s not unknown for tradesmen to take, shall we say, souvenirs,” the old man said.

The professor’s red whiskers pulled back into an approximation of a smile. “Then this must indeed be the one,” he said. With a grunt, he hefted up a large brass weathervane in the shape of an archer.

From behind the glass cabinet, Gerald gasped.

The professor placed the weathervane back onto its velvet bedding and turned to the shopkeeper.

“We agreed five hundred pounds,” the professor said, eager to complete the transaction.

“Cash,” the man said, revealing a gap-toothed grin.

“What?” the professor said. “I don’t carry that much around.”

The man extended a bony finger toward the door. “You’ll find a cash machine around the corner.”

In a flurry of swearing and a promise to be right back, the professor bustled out of the shop.

A look of determination crossed Gerald’s face.

“Come on,” he said to the Valentines. He rushed up to the counter and surprised the old shopkeeper.

“Hello,” Gerald said cheerily. “I couldn’t help noticing the weathervane you were showing that man.”

“Yes,” the man said, his eyes narrowing at the young stranger. “What about it?”

“I’d like to buy it, please.”

The man’s eyes narrowed further. “Sorry, sonny,” he said. “It’s already sold.”

Gerald took out his wallet. He slapped a fistful of notes onto the counter.

“I’ll give you two thousand pounds for it.”

The old man didn’t blink.

“Can I wrap that for you?” he asked.

T
hree empty tins of brass polish lay on the terrace at Avonleigh. The weathervane rested on a large tarpaulin, and Ruby knelt beside it, a blackened rag in one hand.

Gerald let out an exaggerated yawn and stretched his arms wide.

“What do you reckon the professor said when he got back to that antique shop?” he asked. “I don’t suppose he was too happy.” Gerald and Sam reclined on deck chairs in the warm afternoon sun, enjoying the sight of Ruby sweating over the weathervane as she tried to extract a shine.

“It’ll be nothing compared to what I’ll be saying to you two unless you come and help,” Ruby said, wiping a dollop of polish from a cheek with her sleeve. “This thing is a mess.”

Gerald and Sam hauled themselves onto the tarp and each took a rag from a selection that Mrs. Rutherford had found for them. “I can get Mr. Pimbury to do this for you, Master Gerald,” she had said. “It’s really not the done thing for the lord of the manor to be shining the brass!” Gerald had waved away her offer. But now he was having second thoughts. The sun bit into his neck as he leaned over the archer, rubbing hard.

Ruby sat back on her heels and dabbed her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Gerald, can I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure. What’s up?” he replied, adding more polish to his rag.

“Back in the bookshop, when we were looking for places to hide—”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you suddenly peeled off down an aisle and just happened to find a spot right on top of the book that everyone was searching for.”

Gerald stopped polishing and rested on his hands and knees.

“You know, I have no idea why I went down that aisle. It was just like that day in the Reading Room at the museum. It was like a movie was playing inside my head and I went along with it. I can’t explain it.”

Ruby looked at him curiously. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Gerald picked up the tin of polish. “No. What’s to hide?” he said, avoiding Ruby’s eyes.

She looked at him for a second. “Let us know if it happens again,” she said.

It took another hour of polish and perspiration before the brass archer lay gleaming in the afternoon sun.

The last color of the day was draining from the evening sky by the time Gerald, Sam, and Ruby were ready to set off for the Tor. They had told Mrs. Rutherford that they wanted a good view of the fireworks from the hill overlooking Beaconsfield and promised to be back straight after midnight. She packed them a picnic of sandwiches and fruit in an old cake tin, which Gerald stowed in his backpack.

Sam hoisted the brass weathervane, wrapped carefully in its black cloth, onto his shoulders and they started down the grassy slope.

They made good time across the fields. The evening was perfectly still, and the sound of crickets and night birds filled the air. As they broached the crest above Beaconsfield the last of the twilight melted away, and across the valley, another body was making an appearance.

Gerald and the Valentines paused under a chestnut tree.

“Will you look at that!” Sam breathed. A golden sliver appeared along the horizon. Within minutes an immense full moon was clear of the treetops and on its way into the night sky. A Swiss cheese of craters pocked its face.

“Do you reckon the peak of eternal light is up there?” Ruby asked, her face bathed in the moon’s glow.

“Better be,” Sam grunted, shifting the weight of the weathervane on his shoulders. “This thing weighs a freaking ton.”

Gerald checked his watch. It was just after ten o’clock.

“Come on,” he said. “We better hurry.”

St. Michael’s Tower stood a silent sentinel in the distance as they crossed into the shadows of the valley.

By the time they reached the base of the Tor, the full moon was well into the heavens, giving the tower a huge glowing halo.

Sam adjusted his heavy load and looked up.

“Bit spooky, eh?” he said.

“We better take the path that goes up around the back of the tower,” Gerald said. “Don’t want to let the world know we’re here.”

They climbed in silence. As they approached the top of the hill, a yellow glow appeared from the opposite side of the tower.

“What’s that?” Gerald whispered, surprised at how loud his voice sounded.

They hurried to the foot of the tower and pressed themselves against its side. Ruby motioned for the others to stay put and skirted to the corner. She glanced back at the boys and held an index finger to her lips. With a skip she disappeared around the side in the direction of the glow.

“What’s she doing?” Gerald breathed.

Sam shrugged.

Almost immediately, Ruby reappeared.

“It’s the bonfire,” she said, with relief. “There’s a couple of hippies lying down next to it. Looks like they’re asleep or drunk or something. Come and see.”

Sam and Gerald followed Ruby around the corner. About twenty yards down the other side of the hill was the bonfire that they’d seen being prepared a few days before. Flames licked high into the air. The effigy of the witch was nearby, strapped to the large wooden wheel, which was wedged against a rock. On the ground next to it was a petrol tin, its lid off and lying on its side. Two men in bright clothes were stretched out by the fire. The space around them was strewn with beer cans and wine bottles.

“I guess the excitement got too much for them,” Sam said, twisting his shoulders under the weight of the weathervane. “We better get this thing into position.”

They ducked inside the tower and Sam tipped the archer from his back and laid it on the stone floor.

“Right,” he said. “Who’s going up?”

Gerald and Ruby spoke at the same time.

“I am,” they both said.

Gerald gave Ruby a dubious look.

“I think you’ll find I’m better at this type of thing,” he said. He pulled a coil of rope from his backpack and looped one end around his hips.

“Yes, we were all impressed with the rock-climbing exhibition the other night,” Ruby said, grabbing the other end of the rope. “But I think the poise and balance of a gymnast might be more useful here.” She tied a knot around her waist.

Gerald stared at her.

“You’re joking, right?”

Ruby fixed him with an equally determined glare.

“Not even slightly. I’ll climb up, throw the rope over the beam at the top of the tower and you two muscle men can hoist the weathervane up to me.”

Gerald looked at Sam for support, but he simply shrugged. He’d clearly been on the receiving end of too many battles of will with his sister to bother arguing.

“Okay,” Gerald grumbled. “But once we’ve hauled the weathervane to the top, I’ll climb up and help put it into place.”

Ruby grinned. “Sure. If you feel you need to prove yourself.”

Before Gerald could respond, Ruby wedged a foot into a crevice between two stone blocks and hauled herself off the floor. Soon she was feet off the ground.

“Make sure you have three points of contact at all times,” Gerald called up. He gave Sam a meaningful look.

“Oh, right,” Sam mumbled. He cleared his throat. “Way to go, sis! Woo-hoo. You’re my new hero!”

“Get knotted, both of you,” Ruby grunted back, not looking down.

Ruby made steady progress up the inside of the tower, the rope hanging from her waist like an enormous rat’s tail. She reached the first level of empty window casements in a few minutes.

“This is easy,” she called down. “But there’s a lot of pigeon poo up here.”

She continued climbing, searching for cracks between the ancient stones. But the higher she went, the longer she was taking to find footholds.

“Come on!” Sam called up to her. “We haven’t got all day.”

From the ground they saw Ruby fumble with her right hand as she stretched high to grab a narrow ledge.

“It’s getting a bit thin up here,” she said. Her voice was strained.

Sam gave Gerald an uneasy glance.

“She’s not too good with heights, actually,” he said. “Should have mentioned that earlier, I guess. She just wants to show she’s as good as you.”

Gerald tilted his head to look up. Ruby was about two-thirds of the way up the tower, with nothing but sixty feet of air between her and the stone floor. He suddenly felt sick. One wrong move and…

“Ruby,” Gerald called out. “There’s a stone jutting out from the wall a few feet up to your right. Can you see it?”

Ruby froze.

“Yeah?”

“If you can get to that, then it’s a clear path to the next line of windows. You can have a rest and it’s only a meter or so to the top.”

Ruby paused. “Waddya mean if?”

“What?”

“You said if I can get there. What happens if I can’t get there?”

Gerald swallowed. “Let’s concentrate on the stone, okay?”

Ruby extended her right hand. Her fingers sought out a nook in the rocks, like a spider seeking shelter. She eased her way up the stone face. All the while the rope snaked longer and longer down to Gerald on the ground. Finally she was able to wrap her fingers around the protruding stone and swing both hands up to cling on tight.

She breathed. Then she stuck her foot onto a narrow ledge and pushed up hard.

Without warning, a section of stone gave way. Ruby dropped face first into the wall, landing a heavy blow to her chest. Her full weight dragged on her fingers. Her body twisted as her feet flailed in the air, trying to find support.

“Ruby!” Gerald and Sam cried in alarm, as a shower of stone and mortar rained down. “Hold on!”

Her knuckles white, Ruby flung her right foot to the side and jammed her toe into a tight cranny. With one foot and two hands clinging to the wall, she took a deep breath, her left leg searching the air.

“You all right?” Sam called to his sister.

She didn’t answer.

With another breath, Ruby pulled herself up. Her dangling foot found a ledge and soon she was grunting her way to the top. She threw a leg up and straddled the window as if it was a stone horse. She beamed down at the boys.

“Ta-dah!” she called out, waving a hand in the air.

Gerald and Sam gave Ruby a slow round of applause.

“Yes, well done,” Sam called. “Now how about finishing the job?”

Looking up, Gerald saw Ruby stiffen on her perch.

“What’s the matter?”

Ruby’s face had tightened in alarm. “B-b-behind you!” she shouted.

Gerald swung around. In the shadows, a few yards away, stood the thin man.

With alarming speed, the black figure covered the distance between them. He raised a gloved hand and swatted Sam’s face with a cruel backhand blow. Sam smacked into the wall, knocking his head against the stone, and his body slid senseless to the floor.

Ruby’s scream filled the narrow void. The thin man barely glanced up. He snatched the rope from Gerald’s hand and gave it a mighty wrench. The force of the heave yanked Ruby from the casement, flipping her over the ledge. She clung to the stone shelf with her arms, her legs thrashing over the sheer drop.

Before Gerald could move, the thin man had him by the shoulder and lifted him clear off the floor.

The vice grip shot lightning bolts into Gerald. And again, the overwhelming stench of bleach filled his nostrils.

“The time for subtlety is over,” the thin man snarled. He ground a thumb deep into Gerald’s shoulder. “You will tell me what I want to know!”

Gerald’s cries soared to the top of the tower.

“Waddya want?” he screamed in agony. “Let me go!”

The thin man flung Gerald to the floor. He lifted a pointed black boot and drove it hard into Gerald’s ribs. Gerald rolled across the flagstones trying to escape, but again and again the boot found its mark, ripping the breath from Gerald’s lungs.

Then it stopped. Gerald lay gasping for air. The thin man glared from behind his sunglasses. Not so much as a bead of sweat showed on his alpine skin. Then he crouched, took a fistful of hair and reefed Gerald’s head back.

“Where is the diamond casket?” he demanded.

Gerald peered back at him through half-closed eyes.

“Tell me,” the thin man snarled, “or this birdie is going to fly.” He reached out and tugged hard on the rope. High above Ruby yelped in alarm as she was yanked dangerously close to the window’s edge.

“It’s at Beaconsfield,” Gerald gasped. “Somewhere at Beaconsfield.”

The thin man twisted his hand, tearing out clumps of Gerald’s hair.

“I know that!” he hissed. “Tell me where!”

“We don’t know,” Gerald said through the pain. “That’s why we’re here…trying to find out.”

He stared back at the skeletal creature. Even with all the menace and the violence, the thin man’s face still didn’t register an emotion.

At last, the thin man spoke: “I killed your great-aunt.”

Gerald clenched his teeth and stared straight ahead.

“And those two filthy beings lying out by the fire—I killed them as well.”

A slow grinding realization was forming in Gerald’s brain.

“And I’m going to kill you. You know that, don’t you?”

Gerald blinked back tears. But he shook his head.

“You w-won’t kill m-me,” he stammered. “If you do, you’ll never find the casket.”

The thin man’s mask broke. A broad sneer spread across his face.

“Mr. Wilkins,” he derided, “unless you want to watch your friend fall to a cruel and painful death right before your eyes, you will tell me where the casket is.” He lowered his mouth level to Gerald’s ear. “And then I will kill you.”

He gave the rope another violent tug. Gerald could hear Ruby scrambling to hold on—a muffled cry tumbled down. Without a sound, the thin man slid a long thin blade from his sleeve, the same one that he’d thrust into Gerald’s back at the museum a week before. The point pressed into the skin at the base of Gerald’s exposed throat. A bead of blood formed at its tip.

“Killing the old woman brought me no joy,” the thin man breathed. “There’s no challenge in killing the weak.” He licked his lips, a sharp colorless tongue wiping across the equally colorless mouth.

“What do you and the major want this casket for?” Gerald blurted out, fire in his eyes. “What’s so special that you have to kill for it?”