The Cortés Enigma (32 page)

43

Ben was furious. “For goodness’ sake!”

“It’s not my fault. It slipped,” Valeria said, emotion rising in her voice.

Ben leaned over to allow her easier access to the floor. She jumped off the mantelpiece to inspect the damage.

“It’s okay; nothing’s broken.”

Ben had never been so relieved. The thought of all that work, perhaps the only opportunity to find Chris…

His hands were shaking.

He got down from the mantelpiece and stood beside Valeria. With both of their torches fixed on the stone, it was possible to make out the features clearly. There were eight petals around the centre of the flower, matching what was included on the stained-glass window back at the lighthouse. The symbol was perfectly symmetrical, the smooth petals illustrating the soft features of a real flower.

If it had been real, Ben guessed it would probably have been red.

“What’s it say?”

The writing was on the back, just like the others. There were three big letters, all easy to read.

O S S

“What does it mean?” Valeria asked.

Ben bit his lip. He tried to think of an answer, but in truth he had none. Logic no longer seemed to work, except regarding the games. The earlier letters, GOD OLP HIN, he was certain spelled out the name Godolphin – that and nothing more. OSS. It could really mean anything.

He took the stone for a closer look, hoping he was simply missing something.

He wasn’t.

“Come on. We need to find the fifth.”

Colts was standing in the cellar when he heard running from behind the door. He stood to one side, using the kegs as cover.

“Hope you haven’t forgotten our little deal, Ben?”

Ben was so shocked he thought his heart was about to leave his chest. The light of the cluttered cellar, the first real light he had seen since entering the tunnel, was momentarily painful on his eyes, leaving him unprepared for someone standing there. The door at the top of the stairs was closed. There were no employees around looking for stock, replacing barrels or throwing out empties.

The last thing he expected was Colts standing in the corner, brandishing a gun.

“You?” Valeria asked, not knowing how else to react. The man was a regular at the GM, so much so that Nicholl had actually allocated him his own room. In truth, Valeria still knew nothing of his background.

Colts smiled at Valeria and tipped his hat like a gentleman. “My, my, my, what have we been rolling in this evening?”

Valeria was confused, whereas Ben had figured out the reason for the smile. He looked at Valeria’s cheek and pointed. “You have a little…”

She looked back at Ben, removed a small mirror from her handbag and saw her face was covered in dirt.

“Here.” Ben licked his finger and walked toward her. He received a slap for his trouble, and Valeria finished the job herself.

“My, my,” Colts repeated, “sure is a terrible evening out there. Question is, what has brought two such fine people as yourselves to a place like this?”

“You were right about the markers, Colts.” He looked at the man he believed was an archaeologist and then at Valeria. “The Spaniards have Chris.”

Colts failed to hide a grin. “I did warn you.”

“They came. They took the trumpet.”

“Trumpet?”

“The first marker stone.”

“Ben.” Valeria poked him in the midriff. “Why do you talk?”

“Mr Colts works for the Duke of Cornwall. He’s been assigned to find the treasure for its rightful owner.”

Valeria’s expression had noticeably soured. “You bastard. All this time, you were lying to me.”

“Montezuma’s dead. So is Cortés. When the treasure is found, the money can be shared. The treasure belongs in a museum.”

Ben turned away, concentrating on Colts. “They have Chris.”

Colts remained vigilant, gun at the ready. “You’re quite certain?”

“They came down on us after you dropped me off. They took the diary.”

“Diary?” Colts adjusted his hat. “I don’t remember you mentioning any diary, Ben.”

“I showed it to you earlier when I showed you the coat of arms. Besides, the diary belonged to my ancestor. It’s a family heirloom. Personal property.”

“You think it contains clues?”

Ben hesitated. “I didn’t know you. I still don’t.”

“Well, why don’t I make it nice and clear for you, Ben. It’s not me, as such, you need to answer to, but my employer.”

“We’ve seen four of the stones. Together they spell out a name. They took the trumpet, but we saw what it said.”

A strange silence ensued, the atmosphere affected by the occasional sound of heat expanding wood and metal, usually a dull clunk or snapping sound, enough to make the hairs on the back of Ben’s neck stand on end. He was becoming apprehensive, Valeria worse still.

Colts was clearly in no mood to compromise. “Well, come on, then, Ben. Let’s hear it.”

“Ben.” Valeria was worried. She had taken to standing behind Ben, even cuddling up against him.

“It’s hard to make out for sure. Three of them seem to spell out the name Godolphin.”

“Godolphin?”

“Yeah.”

“Very good, Ben. What else?”

“I don’t know. It just has the letters OSS.”

“That the stone, right there?”

“Ben,” Valeria said, increasingly nervous.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, walking toward Colts. He lifted the base, allowing him to read the letters.

“That’s mighty pretty there, Ben. And I must say, you’ve done some sterling work – both of you have. It’s been missing for a long time – all of them have. And in the space of one night you go and find them.”

Ben’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Being underground for so long had caused problems with his breathing, but he knew it was not the stale air alone that was making him feel the way he did. Chris had been missing all day. He still had no idea where he was or whether it really was the Spaniards who had taken him. There were no clues, no leads; as far as he was aware, Hammitt wasn’t even working on it.

The solution lay with solving the riddle.

“What does it mean?” Ben asked Colts, struggling to keep his composure. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

Colts raised an eyebrow and smiled, that same smile, like the cat that had the cream. “Maybe if you ever stay here as long as I have, Ben, you’ll get to see things others don’t. Tell me, what were those other letters again?”

“Other letters?”

“Yes, Ben. The ones you thought spelled out Godolphin.”

“The first was HIN. Then another was OLP. Finally GOD. Then this one.”

Colts nodded. “That sure is mighty fine logic, Ben. He might even have a point,” he said to Valeria, who was in no mood to respond.

“We need to find the other piece; that will tell us where we need to go,” Ben said.

Colts removed his pipe from his jacket and filled it up with tobacco. Ben was exasperated.

“Colts, for goodness’ sake.” He slapped the pipe from the man’s mouth, causing it to crash down onto the floor, spilling tobacco everywhere. “I’m not playing games. My cousin is missing because of this. Tell me now. Where is the fifth?”

Colts picked up his pipe and most of the tobacco. “What are the ones you said you have found?”

“A rose, a fish, a bell and a trumpet. They took the trumpet. I understand the last one is a cup.”

Colts finally lit his pipe, blowing rings of smoke toward the ceiling. “You think you’re pretty good at seeing things, Ben? I mean, you’re not the kind of person who would see something directly in front of you only to fail to see the significance, are you?”

Ben could tell a rebuke was imminent. “What?”

Colts laughed, practically a snigger. “I suggest you follow me.”

Of all places, Colts led them back to the Gibbous Moon. Danny was behind the reception desk, finishing on the phone.

“Hi there, Danny,” Colts said, beaming his brightest smile. “Some storm, huh?”

“Between you and me, Mr Colts, I’ve seen a lot worse.”

“How about that?” Colts said, looking at Ben and Valeria. “Such a man of the world.”

Danny watched as Colts walked through the doorway of the sitting room and into the bar area. The tables were clean, coasters plentiful, visitors, not for the first time, notable for their absence. Colts led the way across the red carpet and stopped in front of a large wall cabinet, the centrepiece of the room.

Immediately Valeria understood what was going on. “Oh my.”

“By my accounts, the Gibbous Moon became famous for two reasons,” Colts said; his trademark grin returned. “Besides being the worst drinking establishment on this whole goddamn island.”

Ben was not amused. “What’s the other two?”

“One, it’s the oldest inn on the island. Perhaps oldest of all on the Scillies.”

“What’s the other thing?”

Colts nodded at the artefact located behind the glass. “People round here have never been quick to get too close to this. They say misfortune and death surround those who touch the Devil’s Cup.”

Valeria wetted her lips, her eyes focused on the white cup-shaped stone that lay before her. She had seen it every day for seven years, even cleaned the area around it.

Never had she connected it with the five emeralds.

Ben folded his arms, remembering the object from when Nicholl had shown it to him the day after his arrival. “What is it?” Ben asked, ever sceptical.

“Tradition has it the cup was moulded by Lucifer himself. Used to like tormenting people, particularly Scillonians. One night, he gave this as a reward to a former owner…”

“Let me guess. He beat him at cards?”

Colts laughed. “Actually, drinking. Not many people can outdrink the devil. They say anyone who picks it up will be met with grave misfortune. Death within seventy-two hours.”

“You ever touched it?”

Colts adjusted his hat. “Well, that would be telling now, wouldn’t it?”

Ben looked at Valeria. “You?”

Valeria was as white as a sheet. No prizes for guessing who was the most superstitious of the three.

Ben bit his lip, eyeing the cup from a distance. Conventional logic told him he should leave it alone; after all, it was someone else’s property.

He tried to open the cabinet. “You got a key?”

Valeria was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Ben?”

“Come on. Give me the key to the cabinet. Come on.”

Valeria removed the keys from her pocket and shuffled for the right one, nearly dropping them. Ben took them and inserted the correct one into the lock. The glass door on the right opened, allowing Ben access. There were five items on a single shelf, the alleged former property of TF, a small miniature portrait, said to be of the former owner who outdrank the devil, and, finally, the cup.

Ben wriggled his fingers and touched it, tentatively at first before carefully picking it up. Its texture was identical to the other five: white, weighing about 9kg and easy to hold. The shape was identical to the cup in the stained-glass window: long and thin, like a simple drinking cup from the Middle Ages.

He turned it over, inspecting the base. Like the others, there was writing, not three letters but two.

“Well, captain? What’s it say?”

Ben double-checked it and passed it to Colts.

“CR,” Colts said, adjusting his hat. “Any bright ideas?”

Ben shook his head. “No, not really.”

Colts studied the letters and looked back at Ben with a dry expression. No doubt about it. It said CR.

“Nothing springs to mind?” Colts asked.

“I’m still pretty sure the earlier stuff said Godolphin.”

Colts took a seat at the nearest table, put the cup down and removed his hat, revealing a receding hairline flanked by fuzzy black hair with hints of grey. This was the first time Ben had seen him bareheaded. It seemed to change the man’s complexion, adding at least five years to his appearance. His hat had made him seem taller.

Somehow, the hat made Ben take him more seriously.

“Give me everything. In order.”

Ben started with the trumpet. “HIN. OLP. GOD. OSS. CR.”

Colts considered the message, for now struggling to make sense of it.

Ben looked at both of them in turn. “You’re sure they spell out the name of a place?”

“Yes,” Valeria said.

In truth, Ben didn’t doubt it. He took the other three stones from Valeria and spread them out across the table. Looking at them in order helped, although the absence of the trumpet made things more difficult.

“Godolphin,” Ben said, convinced by the bell, fish and missing trumpet. As he pushed the cup next to the rose, he noticed something. The CR on the cup was right of centre, indicating a space.

“Godolphin Cross,” Ben said.

Colts looked up. “Pardon me?”

Ben noticed a change in Colts’s expression. It was as if he’d hit a nail on its head. “I said–”

“No.” Colts waved his finger and rose to his feet. “You said Godolphin Cross. Who told you about Godolphin Cross?”

“Nobody. It’s what it says.”

Ben stepped to one side as Colts moved alongside him and looked the stones over, one by one. Even with the absence of the trumpet, the logic behind the order of the letters was undeniable.

And obviously correct.

“You sure you didn’t know about this before?”

Ben was confused. “No. Why…Colts?”

Colts had moved away from the table, heading toward the doorway. Fortunately there was no one about; the wind and rain battering against the windows was the only sound, their voices aside.

“You telling me you’d never heard of the place before tonight?”

Ben was speechless. “You mean it exists?”

“Oh, it exists all right.” He turned to Valeria. “And you?”

She hesitated, eventually finding the nerve to muster a response. “No, never.”

“Godolphin Cross was the family estate of the Godolphin family. The chief seat of all the famous governors.”

“The chief seat. Where is it?”

Colts raised his eyebrows. “England.”