Faerie Tale (34 page)

He listened silently for a moment, then said, “No, everything is fine here. But are you ready for a shock? No, nothing terrible, thank heaven. It’s just that Jack and Gabbie have uncovered Kessler’s gold.” He grinned at the response on the other end, and even Gloria could hear Gary’s exclamation as Phil held the receiver away from his ear. “No, I’m not kidding, old son. That odd-looking piece of vellum you and Mark found was an overlay to a map Kessler had stashed in a trunk in the attic. Jack and Gabbie simply went to where some marks on the map indicated, dug a bit, and
voilà
, gold.”

He hung up with a chuckle. “He said, ‘I’m on my way,’ and hung up. He’ll call from Sea-Tac airport and let us know when he’ll be landing in Buffalo.”

Gloria stood up. “I think I’ll make a pot of tea. Want some?” He indicated yes as she crossed to the door. “Come on, guys, let your dad get back to work.” The
boys moved past their mother into the hall. Standing by the door, she said, “And, honey, thanks.”

“For what?”

“For telling me everything’s all right.”

As she and the boys vanished from sight, Phil leaned back in his chair and sighed. The twins exchanged glances which asked what that was all about, but despairing of understanding grown-ups, they decided to find something entertaining to do and quietly left. Phil hoped fervently that he hadn’t been blowing smoke at Gloria just to soothe her nerves. Since Gabbie’s assault, he had also been feeling something alien, something disturbing … something impending.

He pushed aside those feelings, judging them nothing more serious than being sensitive to Gloria’s worries. He turned his computer on, booting up the word-processing package. Zork was put aside for a while, both because of his frustration in not getting through the gas-filled room, and because he had a notion for another book and wanted to put some things down on paper. He chuckled to himself at that last thought, considering the electronic “paper” he was using. He put a fresh disc in the second drive and began to write. Soon he was lost in thought and caught up in the excitement of a new project begun.

Gary whistled in disbelief at the sight of the open chest on the kitchen table, his tired eyes almost lighting up. “I’ll be damned.” He had taken the red-eye in from Seattle to Buffalo.

Jack, who had picked him up at the airport, said, “Something else, ain’t it?”

Gloria handed Gary a cup of coffee, saying, “I’ve got to admit when you and Mark first told us all those stories about Kessler and the rest, I half didn’t believe it. But
with the junk in the basement and now this, well … you’ve got to believe.”

“Any idea what it’s worth?” asked Phil.

Gary took out a coin and examined it. Years of rain had deposited a slight silt crust on it, as the chest was not waterproof. No one had touched the coins since they had been carried two nights before. Gary washed the coin off in the sink and dried it with a paper towel. His eyes widened. He yanked the roll of towels off the holder and began furiously cleaning the dirt off coins at random, laying them out on the table. “I don’t believe this.”

Phil said, “What is it?”

“I don’t know what half these coins are, but I recognize a few.” He pointed to a tiny coin resting upon the paper towel. “This is worth maybe a thousand dollars to a collector.”

“Really?” commented Phil, beyond surprise at anything at this point.

“It’s a five-dollar gold piece, and the only reason I know it’s a collector’s item is because of a term paper I wrote in high school. I’ve seen some of these others in textbooks.” He held up a large coin. “Unless I’m mistaken, this is an imperial Austrian mark, from the late nineteenth century. This one”—he indicated a rough coin sitting next to the five-dollar gold coin—“is a Spanish real, about seventeenth-century. And this little guy here is an eight-escudo piece from”—he squinted at the faint lettering—“Peru. Spanish colonial period.” He shook his head. “These few are worth easily ten thousand dollars or more, Phil.” As if suddenly weary, he pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. He pointed to a coin that was almost worn smooth. “I think that one’s Roman.”

“So all these have collector’s value?” asked Gloria.

“I doubt if more than one coin in fifty in that box isn’t worth a lot more than the price of the gold used to make it. Some, like this Roman baby, are maybe worth hundreds of times their weight.”

Suddenly the implication of what Gary was saying sunk in. Phil’s mouth opened. “My God. That means this box is worth …”

“Maybe a million,” Gary finished.

“What do we do?” asked Gloria.

“I think,” said Gary as he stood up, “you call your lawyer back. Me, I think I’ll go home to get some sleep. I’ve got to call back to Seattle and give some more instructions to the guys and girls working on translating those photocopies I gave them. I left in something of a rush.” He half smiled, fatigue evident on his face. Softly he added, “And maybe Mark’ll call again one of these days. I’m not worried, but … well, I just wish I knew what he’s digging up in Europe.”

“Yes,” said Gabbie, from where she sat on the drainboard. “What have you guys come up with on those documents?”

Gary shrugged. He appeared to be weighing something, as if unsure what to say. At last he said, “Nothing that makes a lot of sense yet. But pieces are starting to fall into place. The best I can judge, Mark was right about there being some sort of secret organization.” He seemed about to add something, but stopped.

Gloria noticed and said, “What?”

“Nothing, really,” replied Gary. “I’m just tired.”

Gloria regarded Gary a moment. “No, you were going to say something. What?”

Gary sighed deeply. “Okay, just for a moment, suppose there was some organization Kessler was involved with. They might know about the gold. And they … well, they might not like the idea of someone else’s digging it up.”

Color drained from Gloria’s face, and she threw a look at Phil as if Gary’s statement refuted his reassurances of only a few days before. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone?”

Phil said, “That cinches it. I’m going to call the police. I’ll put this all in the police property room. Then I’ll tell the paper about the gold, making sure Malcolm Bishop prints that all the gold is moved. If someone’s after this gold, they can try to knock over the police station.”

Gary said, “Don’t be rash, Phil.” Phil’s expression showed his surprise at Gary’s remark. “I mean, it sounds
good to me.” He seemed to be forcing a lighter tone to his voice. “You know, I gave up an exhibition game between the Sonics and the Lakers to see all this. But it’s worth it.” He grinned weakly. “I was coming home soon anyway. I’ve got to take a trip up to Canada shortly—maybe I’ll leave tomorrow—to check up on some things Mark asked me to look into on my way back from Seattle. So, no rest for the wicked.” He paused, the smile fading. “Look, what I meant was that maybe your lawyer will consider it rash to tell anyone about all this, even the police. Maybe you should call him back?” Phil considered and Gary added, “Well, can someone drive me home?”

Phil rose. “Sure, I’ll get my coat.”

Once outside the house, Phil said, “Something really eating you. What is it?”

Gary opened the car door and got in as Phil slid behind the wheel. He was silent a long time while he considered what to say. He was still struggling with what he and Mark had uncovered in the last month. So much of what they had learned was so utterly fantastic, so outside the normal bounds of experience, that even Gary could scarcely believe it. And he was fearful about Mark’s absence. He decided to wait a bit before sharing more than was necessary. Perhaps if Mark wasn’t back when he returned from Canada, then he might tell Phil what he knew.

Gary looked over to discover Phil regarding him intently. He said, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Gloria. She seems a little … on edge these days.”

“Well, this stuff in the basement, and the gold … it all adds up to some pretty spooky possibilities.”

Gary thought about the tape Mark had made, that night in the woods, and for a moment wondered if he wouldn’t feel better sharing what he knew with someone. He decided to stay with his decision to wait until after he returned from Canada, and said, “I can’t argue with that.” He let silence pass between them until Phil started the car and put the transmission in gear.

As they rumbled down the drive toward the road,
Gary stared off into the distance. Finally he said, “I didn’t mean to upset Gloria back there, Phil.”

Phil made a noncommittal noise.

Gary thought about whoever had almost ridden Mark down and the mysterious youth who had saved him, and Mark’s claim that Jack’s infected shoulder was the result of his being elf-shot. There were possibilities here that deeply disturbed Gary. He was silent until Phil pulled up before the house he and Mark rented. As he reached for the door, he said, “Well then, I’m off to the Great White North tomorrow. If I discover anything that has a bearing on the gold I’ll call; otherwise I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

Phil said good-bye and, the entire way home, couldn’t shake the feeling that the discovery of Kessler’s gold was destined to be more curse than blessing.

Gabbie sat at the kitchen table, attempting a rough organization of the coins. She constantly consulted a pair of primers on coin collecting she had fetched from the local library, which both lay open on the table beside her. The largest pile was German coins, but many others were mixed in. British, French, and Spanish coins from the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries abounded, but some were much older. Gabbie held out one. “This is Greek, I think.”

Jack took it and said, “Look at the color. It’s full of impurities, almost red in places.”

“Copper,” said Gloria from the sink. “That’s how they make red gold.”

“It’s really old,” said Gabbie. “And these look like Roman over here.”

Jack sat down next to Gabbie. “Someone’s been gathering this gold for a hell of a long time.”

Phil entered the kitchen; he had returned from taking
Gary home and had walked into the house just in time to answer the phone. “Darren called. He’s flying out.”

“Really?” said Gloria. “He must think this is important stuff to get him out of L.A.”

“Important enough he said not to tell anyone about it. He’ll be in Buffalo tonight. He’s having a notary public meet him at the hotel, first thing tomorrow. They’ll be here about ten. He says he wants statements under oath from all of us. He says the best thing to do is to dump this on the IRS, hold our breath, and wait. If no one else has a claim, and there’re ways of checking that out, he says, then we’ll get it all. We’ll have to pay taxes, but under the new tax laws we’ll keep more than half. He said otherwise the feds might simply take it and let us bring suit to get it back, which could keep us in court for years.”

Jack said, “Half? That’s still a lot of bucks.”

“Do we call the IRS, or does he?”

Phil said, “He said, ‘Do nothing, big en, little oh tee aitch eye en gee.’”

Gabbie said, “Daddy, some of these coins are very rare. There’s a couple here that this book say are worth twenty, twenty-five thousand dollars just for one.” She grinned. “This is something else. Now I know how those guys who found Tut’s tomb must have felt.”

Gloria said, “Cursed.” The others looked up with startled expressions, and she said, “Just joking, folks.” She looked out the window at the deepening rain and wondered why she felt so empty. Somehow she couldn’t share in the others’ wonder at discovered treasure. Something stirred in the woods, a brief flickering of movement, and was gone. For an instant she felt cold pass through her: what her mother would have called “someone walking on my grave.” Then the feeling was gone, leaving behind a residue, a strange mixture of foreboding and resignation. Something was about to happen and she was powerless to stop it. No one could stop it.

Among the trees, under the mantle of rain and wind, they moved. The tall one with the mad eyes, who led, stood closest to the edge of the woods. He looked down
upon the human home, with its metals and electricity, and considered. To his companions he said softly, “Soon they will move the hoard off this land, thinking to keep it safe.” With a grin, like the rictus of a death’s-head, he turned to face his followers. “Then shall we roam unfettered once more.” The sky spit lightning and boomed its annoyance, and the glade was empty, as those who had assembled only an instant before were suddenly gone. They vanished into the woods, fading from view like the drops of rain flowing into puddles in the mud.

For three days the Hastings house became a camp. Darren Cross, the Hastingses’ attorney, had taken one look at the gold and called in a private security agency. Two somber, large, and intimidating men were brought in to ensure that no unpleasant surprises occurred. One was constantly walking perimeter around the house and barn while the other stood quietly in the corner of the kitchen, overseeing the work. At three in the afternoon, they would be replaced by two equally somber, large, and intimidating men who were relieved in turn at eleven by another pair who stayed until seven the next day, when the first two returned. All six men were polite but taciturn, refusing to engage in conversation. Sean was convinced they were CIA.

Darren Cross took depositions from the entire family, including the boys, then packed the notary off with healthy bonuses to ensure silence. He called in an appraiser to develop as clear a picture of worth as possible, as well as an inventory. The coin dealer had almost fainted at the sight of the chest’s contents. After only an hour’s examination, he had urged that a colleague be called in, maintaining some of the coins were antiquities and outside his expertise. Darren had acquiesced, but
only after making sure that security was not compromised, which slowed things down considerably.

The two coin dealers had been housed in the boys’ room, at Darren’s insistence, to minimize the chance of the story’s leaking prematurely. The boys were bunking in their sister’s room, while she was staying with Jack at Aggie’s. Now the two men had finished the tally and, after several minor arguments, had agreed on the final figures.