Death Mask (2 page)

“Sir, a guest is here to see you.”

“Thank you, Holly,” Mr. Gaines said. “See him in.”

Holly smiled at Andrew, tilted her head sideways then gestured a classic “Vanna White” invitation into the office.

Andrew returned her smile then winked to show his acknowledgement. He entered the room extending his right hand. “Mr. Gaines, it’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Thank you for fitting me into your schedule on such short notice.”

Mr. Gaines rose from behind a massive mahogany desk and stuck both thumbs underneath a broad set of suspenders that straddled his shoulders. He gave Andrew a polite but suspicious nod then released one of his suspenders and met Andrew’s hand with his own. “Likewise I hope. Please have a seat.”

“I won’t waste more of your time than is necessary. I’m here to offer you a proposal.”

Mr. Gaines eyebrows perked upward.

“A proposal,” he gruffed. “What type of proposal might that be?”

“I’m a freelance dealer in unique items,” Andrew said. “Procuring historic, highly valued artifacts is how I make a living. Acting as a middle-man, I locate and secure the items then hand them over to an approved establishment for safe keeping.”

“Sounds like interesting work. Go on.”

“After reading the news about the recent troubling incident involving your museum’s highly publicized Death Mask, I thought you might be in the market to sell.”

“Sell!” Victor, erupted. “Why on earth would I do that? I just jumped through one hundred and one government hoops to acquire it.”

“Yes, sir, I know. But sometimes, as I’m sure you know, big-ticket purchases end up being more trouble than they’re worth, especially when there’s negative publicity attached. That’s where I can help.”

“Mister…Game was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Game. Have you lost your mind?” Victor said, calmly latching both thumbs underneath his suspenders again. “The newsworthy attention stemming from this mask is anything but trouble. In fact, I’m banking on it being a gold mine. The publicity alone stands to more than double my revenues at the museum this coming year.”

That was not the response Andrew expected.

“Things couldn’t have worked out any better than if I’d scripted it myself,” Victor added, tugging out on his suspenders and puffing out his chest.

“Come on, Victor. Everything has a price. Name yours. I just might surprise you.”

Mr. Gaines gave him a hard glare then said, “Okay hotshot. What’s your offer?”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. “One million dollars in your account by the end of business today.”

Victor’s jaw slacked causing him to swallow hard. Then, out of instinct, he haggled back to see what would happen. “Two million,” he said, calmly.

“Done,” Andrew said.

“Just like that?” Victor asked.

“Just like that.”

Victor furrowed his brow and thought a minute. He loved the museum and was fond of the things he collected, but he was a businessman first. If this guy was willing to pay two million dollars for the Death Mask today then surely, he reasoned, someone else might be willing to pay three…or more.

“Mr. Game, I’m sorry but it’s not for sale.”

“No last offers?” Andrew prodded.

“No.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Victor, but I understand. I’ll tell you what. Here’s my card. Give it a few days to let it brew then call me at this number. I’ll answer anytime of day or night.”

“Thank you. I may do that,” Victor said, taking the business card. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

Andrew was nearly to the door when he stopped and abruptly turned around.

“One more thing,” he said. “People like you and I, Mr. Gaines, have an inherent duty to protect priceless pieces of art and history at any cost, no matter what they are, even the ugly and macabre. And while most of us usually have the right ideology in the beginning, it’s easy to become disillusioned by the money and attention these items can bring. As one protector to another, I beseech you to never lose sight of that real purpose.”

His point made, Andrew nodded respectfully then said, “I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

***

Within minutes of leaving the Curiosities Museum, Andrew was driving up Interstate 75 North and talking on his cell phone.

“Boss, this is Agent Game checking in.”

“Go ahead, Agent Game.”

“Hello, sir. My discussion with Mr. Gaines went cordially enough but he didn’t take the bait, nor was he interested in entertaining further offers. Although I sensed he knows there’s an associated risk, the mask is making too big of a splash in the news right now for him to see clearly; greed has him blinded by dollar signs.”

“Give it time,” the Boss said. “These things tend to work themselves out once the newness and public attention wears off. Just bide your time and stay available for when, or if, he changes his mind. If he does, you’ll need to act quickly. You have my full approval to do whatever it takes to immediately secure the item from out of the public sector. Just make sure you play it close to the vest. The less anyone knows the better.”

“Thank you, sir. Will do. You can count on me.”

Chapter 4

Detective Finnegan Winters, because of his unorthodox approach, keen instincts and trusting intuition, is widely regarded by his superiors and peers alike as the best investigative officer employed by the Atlanta Police department. So it came as no surprise to anyone that Lieutenant Anderson had requested his presence at the museum the night of the puzzling Death Mask incident. However, with a high profile case such as this the Lieutenant wasn’t about to rely solely on Detective Winters without conducting his own private research into the matter, including full details pertaining to the history of the mask.

Within twenty-four hours of the initial investigation, the Lieutenant’s findings had turned up some interesting and entertaining stories. Unfortunately, he uncovered nothing concrete relating to hard evidence. The majority of information he gathered came from a few paraphrased verbal family traditions handed down by successive generations while the rest came from sporadic journal entries and urban legend sites posted online.

Most of the older records he obtained theorized the mask had been made in the colonial Americas around the turn of the twentieth century, most likely, as was the norm of that day, in compliance with a request specified in the will of a deceased male; in this case, probably a middle-aged man of extreme vanity and wealth with high regard for his facial features and social status.

Because no identity was ever given in the documentation for whose face the impression had been lifted, the guessing games had abounded for decades. Generally though, the thinking had shifted over time with most of the newer theories believing the person to have been little more than an ordinary citizen, financially speaking, which was a strange exception for the times given that the creation of mask castings from the dead in those days were normally reserved for rich, powerful or well known personalities. Although there are no known official data trails of the previous mask owners and no direct reports of bad omens surrounding the mask, there were habitual warnings listed in nearly all the documentation, both from the verbal tradition and the written, against the mask’s inherent, wicked potential.

For those with a penchant for myth, further investigation from some of the more outlandish resources lent the accompanying tale that superstition and legend had it that the man whose face was cast in the Death Mask was a jaded womanizer and escaped mental patient. The creation of the mask was believed to have been his vengeful, master plan for extending life in which to continue his persecutions after death.

Of interesting note, another, more reliable, source mentioned a cult-like following of the mask during the early 1900’s immediately after its creation and another again in the 1960’s with the appearance of the Hippie culture.

After another day of research, the Lieutenant’s investigation concluded with no real evidence to contradict his original hunch that an elaborate practical joke had been perpetrated against the museum’s curator by a person, or persons, with knowledge of the mask’s mysterious background. Per his orders, the case was to remain open for thirty days in the off chance of catching the pranksters. After the thirty days had passed, the case was to be immediately closed with no further action taken.

Chapter 5

Juan Gonzales is a proud worker. He is living in the United States on a Worker Visa from Ecuador. No one takes his job more seriously. He shows up everyday, thirty minutes early without fail, to perform his duties as the night security guard at the Atlanta Museum of Curiosities. On the night of Andria Walker’s incident, since she planned to work well into the night, he was given the night off with full pay, in part to ensure privacy against leaked photos before the grand opening of the Death Mask exhibit the next morning, and also, as a reward for his previous good service. He thought that living with the guilt of not being on duty that night to protect Andria was his worst nightmare come true.

He was wrong.

On the third night after the mask had spoken to Andria, the police were finally done with their investigation and had removed the Yellow crime scene tape blocking the entrance to the main exhibit room. During the second pass of his normal rounds around the museum, Juan gathered the courage to poke his head into room. With the coast clear, he felt confident enough to continue all the way inside for a peek at the infamous mask.

He was apprehensive at first, working his way in slowly before stopping about ten feet in front of the podium. Being a man of Catholic faith, and knowing the recent history surrounding the mask, he made the Sign of the Cross before committing to his final approach.

Impressive, he thought, but eerie.

He stood and stared at the stark white face a good thirty seconds before he noticed it slightly turning side-to-side. The length of the turns seemed to increase with each twist as if the mask was gesturing—
NO
.

Juan crooked his head back. If not for the knowledge of Andria’s encounter a few days before, he probably would have reacted the same as she: to panic and run away. Instead, he was mesmerized and continued watching. The mask’s head gesture got gradually more pronounced then abruptly ended with the mask mouthing something that was mostly muted by the glass dome sitting over the top of it.

Spurred by curiosity, Juan reached forward and lifted the glass then gently sat it on the floor beside the podium. With no barrier to block its voice, the mask took full advantage of the opportunity.

“Why were you praying, are you afraid of me?”

“Si, señor,” Juan said.

“Why?”

“Because you scared Miss Walker.”

“There’s no need to pray. It won’t help against me anyway.”

Juan didn’t respond, just stood there frozen in place.

“What’s your name?” the mask asked.

“Juan Gonzales…What is yours?”

The mask smiled at Juan’s innocence, then quipped. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Juan stared in silence then bent down to pick up the glass when he was interrupted by a request from the mask.

“Can you leave that off for a bit?” the mask asked, employing its best plaster “puppy dog” eyes. “It’s hard to breathe under that thing.”

Juan wasn’t sure how to respond. After another a long pause, he nodded his head in agreement and returned the glass to the floor.

“Thank you, Juan,” the mask said.

***

Roughly two hours later, on his third and final pass around the museum, Juan returned to the exhibit room to replace the glass over the mask.

“Hello again, Juan.”

Juan didn’t respond, only nodded.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mr. Gonzales.”

Without making eye contact, Juan picked up the glass dome from off the floor and replaced it over the top of the mask then turned and left the room. Quickly pacing himself toward the security office he collected his belongings and clocked out for the day. On his way home Juan couldn’t help but wonder whether to be afraid or intrigued by his own strange encounter or what, if anything, he should do about it.

One thing he did know for sure. He couldn’t tell anyone. Whether true or not, he felt that nothing good could come from sharing his news. If he did tell, he calculated the reaction would be one of two options. Either he would be thought crazy and put behind bars in an insane asylum or he would have his Green Card revoked and sent back to Ecuador. He decided to do nothing.

Chapter 6

Exactly one week after encountering the talking Death Mask, Andria used her master key to gain entrance back into the museum after hours. She had to know the truth.

Since the night of the incident, she’d done nothing but stare at the four walls of her apartment and question her sanity. She kept replaying the impossible scenario over in her mind, wondering how much the non-stop work with little sleep to prepare the museum for its grand opening had played a part in what she’d seen. Any variety of delusions seemed possible under those circumstances.

Luckily for her, she and Juan had occupied the museum together, at night, many times before. From this association, she had learned that Juan was a creature of habit and took his nightly dinner break at precisely the same time each night. She never imagined such a simple detail would come in handy. But tonight she would use the knowledge to her advantage.

It was well after midnight when she entered the building disguised in a black hooded spandex suit, black sneakers and black face paint. The epitome of a commercialized ninja warrior, she blended in perfectly with the night. Crouching into stealth mode, she easily slipped past the expansive lobby then quickly crept down the hall. She drew up next to the Death Mask room and tilted her head into the open doorway to peek inside. The stoic mask sat idle facing the entranceway under the square domed glass. The sight of the mask’s blank stare sent a chill down Andria’s spine. With no eyes, it was impossible to tell if the mask was watching or not. She looked away then retracted her head from around the door’s casing and pressed her back against the wall. Summoning all her courage, she drew in a deep breath then willed herself forward into the room; her entire focus was on the mask. When the mask noticed her presence it instantly came to life. Squinting its plaster-filled eyeholes and contorting its mouth, the mask made vibrating, convulsing actions as though it were choking and couldn’t breathe. Andria instinctively panicked and rushed forward to remove the glass.