Other People's Baggage (20 page)

FOOL'S GOLD: FIFTEEN

  

Sanjay and I looked at each other for a moment before following the steps.

As we descended, it was clear the surrounding shrubbery had been strategically placed around the fountain and bench so that nobody outside of the immediate vicinity would see whoever was taking the hidden staircase.

When my foot hit the bottom step, I felt the stone move. Unlike the loose stone above ground, this stone was sinking. My breath caught and I instinctively backed up, bumping into Sanjay.

Sanjay swore in Punjabi at the same time another noise sounded: The stone bench was closing above us.

That's what the sinking step had done. Sanjay realized it, too. He turned and ran up the steps, but it was too late.

The thick stones came together, closing us off from the world. I don't think of myself as being afraid of the dark, but fear gripped me as pitch black enveloped us. This was definitely not the relaxing vacation I'd signed up for.

The darkness lasted only a few moments. As soon as the stones clicked firmly into place, lights came on. The scene before us was amazing enough that I forgot my fear.

A series of gas lamps hung along the stone walls, but that wasn't what had lighted the room. A set of modern bulbs had been strung along the walls, leading to a room roughly the size of my San Francisco studio apartment.

The room was a combination of old and modern. It hadn't been professionally upgraded. A man of Clayton's wealth could have afforded to do so, but he must have wanted to keep his secret from everyone.

The high-ceilinged room was stocked like an old fashioned chemistry lab. In the back of the cave-like room was a large clay oven. Two stone dragons stood taller than me on either side of the oven. A small trickle of water dripped down one side of the open mouth of the oven. The ceiling in that section of the room was lower than the rest of the room. That wall must have been directly under the fountain. Wooden tables lined the two walls flanking the oven, with crowded shelves above. Glass jars filled with powders of metallic colors, beakers of liquid, metal tongs for lifting hot vessels. In a corner near the oven, a primitive faucet hung over a copper bowl.

“The alchemist's lab,” I said. “The fountain even gives it running water.”

“It looks like a chemistry lab from Houdini's time,” Sanjay said. “He's preserved it perfectly. It's not even dusty.”

An acidic smell filled the air. Fresh, not musty. That was curious. Even more curious: a small glass bowl of gold flakes lay on the table closest to us.

One look at Sanjay and I knew he was as confused as me.

“You don't think he actually…?” Sanjay's voice trailed off.

“No,” I said, more confidently than I felt. “Definitely not. This isn't real. There has to be a logical explanation.”

Sanjay picked up the bowl of gold, raising it to eye level.

“It looks real,” he said.

“What do you know about gold?”

“I'm just saying.”

“I'm waiting for a host from a reality TV show to jump out from behind the clay oven,” I said.

Sanjay walked over to the oven.

“I didn't really mean—” I began.

“I know,” he said. “Can I see that magnifying glass you always carry around?”

“You could if it hadn't disappeared with the rest of my luggage.” I mentally kicked myself again for putting so many things I didn't want to lose into that checked bag.

“Look at these ashes,” Sanjay said, kneeling down. He picked up a handful of blackened ashes and watched them flutter through the air as they slipped through his fingers. “This oven is in use. Why would it be in use if he wasn't practicing alchemy?”

“Burning evidence?” I suggested.

Brushing off his hands, Sanjay considered the idea with a thoughtful expression. “Speaking of which,” he said, “I don't see the gold half of a chess set anywhere. You don't think you were wrong about him, do you?”

“No,” I said. “My theory makes sense. It's a con. He's hiding something. You saw how well hidden this lab is.”

As I spoke the words, I was reminded we were trapped in a room nobody besides Clayton Barnes knew existed. I shivered, and I wasn't sure if it was from the damp chill.

“If he believes he's an alchemist,” Sanjay said, “then he believes he needs to hide this lab so he won't be persecuted. I mean really, look at this place—”

“Sanjay,” I interrupted. “There's got to be a way out of here, right?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, looking away. “The problem is we need to find it.”

“You're good at this stuff,” I said. “You found the way in here.”

“That was one clever entry system,” Sanjay said. “This lab is hidden away below several feet of stone. We need to find the way out ourselves. Nobody is going to find us here.”

FOOL'S GOLD: SIXTEEN

  

Sanjay's cell phone didn't get any reception, even from the highest step we could climb. For the next thirty minutes, he meticulously tapped every few inches of the walls, floor, and stairway, looking for our way out. I picked up the containers on the tables and went over the table tops and legs. None of it revealed the opening of a secret door. When we regrouped in front of the fireplace, Sanjay's knuckles were raw.

“The stone door we came through is the only way out,” he said. “There has to be a trigger, but I'll be damned if I know what it is.”

I had been so confident Sanjay would figure it out. I trusted him completely. Just like I knew my own strengths that led us to this alchemy lab, I knew Sanjay's. I hadn't been as frightened as I knew I should have been because I knew he would be able to escape from this room. But what if I was wrong?

Sanjay sighed and sat down on the well-swept floor. He leaned his back against one of the dragons. Watching him, an idea clicked into place in my mind.

“The dragon,” I said.

“I already tried it,” Sanjay snapped. “I tried everything.”

“The black dragon,” I said.

“There's no black dragon. They're both gray stone.”

“But the scales carved into the stone,” I said. “Look at this. There's a black one.”

“That's natural discoloration,” Sanjay said. “It's been worn…”

His voice trailed off as I pushed on the black scale on the chest of the dragon. It didn't move.

“The black dragon is a meaningful term to alchemists,” I said. “Clayton mentioned it, and there was also a tapestry of a black dragon in his castle.”

I pushed harder on the black stone. It shifted. The carved stone scale was a lever. The movement dislodged something I hadn't planned on. A large stone fell forward.

I jumped back, but I wasn't fast enough.

The rock smashed into my left arm, a jagged edge tearing through my sweater. I felt the bone break and I screamed.

As searing pain shot through my arm, I realized not only had I broken a bone, but I'd done so while trapped in an underground cave with no cell phone reception, and nobody knew where I was.

“Jaya!” Sanjay cried, pulling me further back from the avalanche. But it was only the one stone that fell.

Pain made its way from my forearm up to my neck. I hadn't broken a bone since I was a kid, but the memories flooded back. I was five years old when I fell out of a tree along the water near our house in Goa. More than the pain, the thing that stuck out in my mind was the difference in what I smelled—I associated a broken arm with fresh air and the scent of bananas, but now the air was stifling and musty. I felt as if I might choke.

“You're bleeding,” Sanjay said, kneeling to examine my arm. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. Then another. I must have been seeing double. No, that wasn't it. It was a set of five white handkerchiefs tied together. They must have been for one of his tricks.

“It's broken,” I said, my head spinning. I closed my eyes and the sound of scraping stone filled my ears. Was I hallucinating?

“Stay there,” he said, as if I was going to go anywhere.

I opened my eyes as a new shot of pain surged through my arm.

Sanjay used the handkerchiefs to tie a wooden spoon from the lab to my arm as a makeshift splint.

“We have to get you out of here,” he said. “I'll go over every inch of the room again.”

“You don't need to,” I said, pointing to the stone stairs with my good arm.

Natural light cascaded over the steps. I hadn't imagined the sound of scraping stone. The doorway down to the lab had opened back up. I'd never been so happy to see the light of day.

“The dragon opened up the door,” Sanjay said, following my gaze.

“We didn't hear it because of the falling rock.”

“
Come on
,” he said. “I can carry you up the stairs.”

“I can walk,” I said.

My voice was shaky and I wasn't sure I believed my own words. But the thought of being carried to my rescue like a damsel in distress wasn't much more appealing than being stuck down in that alchemist lab. “I just need a second.”

Sanjay held my good arm to help me across the room. Hot pain throbbed each time I took a step. Drops of blood followed in my wake.

“Wait!” I said.

“Do you need me to carry you after all?”

“No,” I said, holding my arm in my other hand. I winced in pain. “This is another diversion.”

“That's great, Jaya. We can talk about diversions later. Now come on.”

“Stop,” I said. “I need to think.”

“No, you don't,” Sanjay said. “You need to get to a hospital.”

“Clayton is smart,” I said. “Really smart. Just like how he dresses so outrageously so he can hide in plain sight when he wears more normal clothing, this lab is the same false front.” I paused and steadied myself on the edge of a table. “If someone happened to find their way into this lab, all it would do is tell them is that he takes his alchemy seriously. Those gold flakes are a prop. This place has another hiding place—the real one.”

“That's great, Jaya, but this accident—”

“Don't you get it? That wasn't an accident. It wasn't that a rock was so unstable that it fell when the doorway opened back up. That rock fell because we were too close to his hiding place. It's a booby trap. A booby trap that opens the door back up, for the person who got caught in the trap to be relieved to have a way out—instead of searching for the real hiding place. We were looking for a way out, so we weren't looking for a hiding place. Those dragons are the perfect hiding place.”

“You're not going to let this go,” Sanjay said.

“No,” I said, ignoring the growing bloodstain on the splint wrapped tightly around my arm.

Sanjay's shoulders sagged and he closed his eyes. “All right,” he said. “Two minutes. Then we get you out of here.”

“The dragon's mouth,” I said as I reached the dragon. “The stone tongue is a different piece of stone, not a continuous carving.”

Sanjay inspected the mouth of the dragon, grumbling about how I didn't have the magnifying glass I use for historical documents. His grumbling cut off abruptly.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A key hole in the back of the dragon's mouth,” he said.

“We don't have the key,” I said.

“Who do you think you're talking to?” Sanjay pulled one of the tools from his escape acts and poked it into the dragon's mouth.

A few moments later, a sharp click sounded. Sanjay lifted out the tongue of the dragon. Beyond it were three black velvet bags.

Opening the first drawstring bag, a smile spread across Sanjay's face. He pulled out the gold chess figure of a crazed rook biting his shield.

FOOL'S GOLD: SEVENTEEN

  

Two hours later I sat in a reserved box watching
Fool's Gold
. My arm rested on a pillow in its new cast.

The house was packed. The media was having a field day with the fact that Clayton Barnes had been arrested for stealing the gold and silver Lewis Chessmen and was suspected of countless other thefts of gold treasures.

The media attention was great for business. Not only had Daniella's show sold out all its scheduled performances, but Feisal had secured a buyer for the chess set.

Sanjay had insisted we go straight to the hospital, rather than stopping at the theater to hand over the gold chess pieces to Feisal. But while I was getting my cast, Sanjay had called Feisal who came by to pick up the pieces that Sanjay and I happened to have “forgotten” were in my bag when we handed over the other evidence to the police.

“I don't know how to thank you,” Feisal had said, bowing and kissing my fingers that poked out from the cast.

Clayton made a full confession after being assured he would get a deal for returning several missing treasures. He couldn't return all of the treasures he'd stolen, though. He hadn't been selling the pieces intact. He's been melting down treasures in his alchemy lab. It was easier—and safer—to sell gold once it had been disguised.

Clayton's theft of the chess set was never meant to be an impossible crime. His plan had been to have an alibi for the time when the theft was supposed to have taken place, and for Izzy to be the one person without an alibi. With Izzy's past, he was sure the police would have things wrapped up quickly. The German tour group in the hallway ruined the simple plan.

Clayton had used the key, which Astrid left at an appointed spot, to get into the suite and break into the safe early that morning. He'd set an explosion on a timer to go off during the picnic. He was a good thief, and part of his M.O. was that he was exceedingly careful, taking steps such as never having an accomplice know his identity. That's why even though the police had long suspected him, they had never been able to prove anything.

Clayton needed Astrid's key because he hadn't wanted to be seen picking a lock in a crowded hallway. He could open the safe himself, when he had more time and knew Astrid would be making sure the suite's occupants were otherwise occupied. Astrid's other role was to make sure Izzy would be fixing a security problem at the theater while everyone else had the alibi of the picnic. Clayton hadn't counted on Daniella being suspicious of the theater's security breach or of the depth of her feeling for Izzy. That's why he tried to get me to distract Daniella, so we wouldn't look carefully into what had happened.

In retrospect, Clayton should have anticipated human emotions to get in the way, since it was precisely his own feelings that had tripped him up. He knew he would be inconveniencing Feisal by stealing the chess set, but he never imagined Feisal wouldn't have insurance. When he learned Feisal had cut corners and didn't have insurance, he decided to anonymously return the silver half of the chess set, so Feisal could recoup some of his losses. The only reason Clayton had decided on this theft in the first place was because he was desperate. He was running low on funds and didn't see an alternative. He got sloppy.

I heard about Clayton's confession from Feisal when I arrived at the theater from the hospital. Being the good man that he was, Feisal was already talking about forgiving Clayton.

“Is your cast dry yet?” Sanjay asked as the stage lights flickered and signaled that
Fool's Gold
would begin soon.

“I think so,” I said. “Why?”

As the lights when down, Sanjay whipped out a black marker from a hidden pocket and signed his name across the cast with a flourish.

Izzy wasn't the greatest actor, but it didn't matter. He wasn't lying when he said he knew the part of Alex, and now that Daniella's usual confidence was back, she had enough talent to carry the show. Besides, half the audience only cared about the sensationalist chess set mystery they were able to be a part of. From the way Daniella and Izzy were looking at each other, Daniella didn't seem to care.

I hadn't ever thought that Sanjay's illusions as The Hindi Houdini could help solve crimes, but it was those clever deceptions of his that had been the key to piecing together how the theft was done. I also hadn't previously thought my research skills as a historian could help catch a criminal, but maybe there was something to it….

I never did get that relaxing vacation I was after. But sitting in the theater box with Sanjay after we'd caught a clever thief, seeing Daniella and Izzy find happiness, and knowing I'd helped save Feisal's antiques business and ensure he'd get to stay in the country that has become home, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

 

Dear Madison,

 

You might be wondering why your clothes aren't packed as you left them. I don't normally rifle through the suitcases of others, but this didn't end up being much of a vacation. Instead, your black and white dress (which has been dry cleaned) helped catch a thief who had slipped through the fingers of authorities for years. You can read about it in the Scottish press.

 

I'm sorry to say I lost the white clutch that went with the dress (I don't know how women keep track of those things!), but I hope the knowledge that your gorgeous clothing was used for good is enough to make up for it. I've also enclosed a small gift for you from Scotland: an Edinburgh Fringe Festival tote bag with a bottle of rare Scotch whisky inside. I wasn't able to go whisky-tasting on this trip as I'd planned (maybe I'll make it back in the future), but I hear it's quite good.

 

Sláinte – to your health.

Jaya Jones