Thief (7 page)

Chapter 13.

- I might throw in a comment or two here.

- If you feel that you must.

- Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying the story so far. It's just that it badly needs a bit more
sophistication
. A bit more of the ‘renowned through the ages’ touch. Something to propel it into the realm of ‘classic’. In other words, it needs
me
to contribute the next few scenes.

- Oh, please,
enough
with the self-congratulatory commentary.

-
You'll
see, oh ye of little faith.

Paul and Bella disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal, leaving myself and Martina sitting on the couch.

“You’ve done yourself
proud
recently,” I told Martina, sincerely. “We'd never have come as far as we have except for your contributions.”

Martina shrugged off my praise. “It's nothing,” she informed me. “I was just lucky.”

I placed my hand on her arm in disagreement. “No, you weren't just lucky. You were very clever and I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done so far.”

Martina blushed. “Thanks,” she muttered, embarrassed, “that means a lot to me, coming from you.” She hesitated for several seconds, looked away from me and said in a small voice, “You know that I still love you, don't you, Kim?”

“Yes, sweetie, and I'm flattered that you do, although I really can’t fathom your reasons for picking
me
. You're a courageous, beautiful young woman and I'm proud to call you my friend.” I gently stroked her face with the backs of my fingers. “And I'm sorry for calling you a
child
when you first told me you cared for me.” I saw the glimmer of tears in Martina's eyes as she leaned into my caressing hand.

“You know how I feel about you, Kim,” she whispered. “Is there
any
hope at all that you'll ever feel something for me, too?”

I scrutinised Martina’s face as she waited for my reply. I could see she wasn't begging me for a positive response, but was simply holding herself in calm acceptance of whatever answer I was going to give her. I marshalled my words, juggling the phrases in my mind to present the
least
painful way of saying ‘
No, I’m sorry
’ that I could find. I started to open my mouth to tell Martina that we could never be together when I was engulfed by sudden emotion. I mean, here I was, sitting next to this lovely, valiant young girl who came from a deprived background and who struggled to survive in a hostile world. And she
worshipped
me for reasons I still didn’t understand. How could I destroy her hope? What could I say that wouldn’t devastate her? And all at once I realised that I couldn't do it. I
couldn't
bring myself to hurt her that way. She
loved
me, for god's sake. And, now that I came to think of it, I really
did
have some feelings for her. I was astonished at this sudden revelation.
Where
had it come from? I intensified my gaze into her eyes but saw nothing there except a loving regard, overridden by the pain of a rejection that she was positive was impending. What was going
on
here? I was with someone who’d do absolutely
anything
for me and what was love if not that? How could I
not
reciprocate? Isn’t that what we
all
wanted from life – to be loved unconditionally? Martina must have been becoming impatient with me, but I was too bewildered to give her a coherent response. I needed
time
to sort out my emotions. I looked away from her, trying to postpone my responsibility for an answer but was drawn back to her when she took my hand from her face and pressed her lips to my fingers. She was beautiful and desirable, there was no doubt about it, and I felt myself responding to her emotional needs. The feel of her lips made me quiver with longing. I couldn't deny it to myself any longer. I yearned to be in a passionate relationship once again. It had been so long since I'd been in one and my soul
ached
for the touch of a loving hand. My feelings for Martina dawned and blossomed into an overwhelming craving, leaving me breathless. I put my palms either side of her face and drew her gently towards me. Her eyes widened as I slowly bent my head and kissed her. I felt her initial resistance, then her arms looped around my body and she eagerly pulled herself against me.

We dragged ourselves apart after a minute or so and Martina looked at me in amazement. “What just happened?” she questioned, confused. “
Why
did you do that?”

I took one of her hands in mine and inadequately tried to explain the sequence of steps that had bought me to the realisation of how I felt about her. “But let’s not get carried away,” I admonished. “I need time to sort myself out first. My emotions are still all
over
the place right now.”

“For sure. I understand,” Martina said, agreeably. “When I first realized that I loved
you
, I couldn’t think straight for weeks.” She smiled shyly at me. “I don’t want to jinx things between us, Kim, but, although I want with all my heart for you to choose to be with me, I
also
want you to know that I’ll follow whatever you finally decide to do.”

I was touched by the sincerity in Martina’s voice. I hugged her and kissed the top of her head in gratitude. “You’re such a loving and generous person, honey,” I told her with a sigh. “Thank you for understanding. I just need a little space to myself in the meantime. It’s all been a bit sudden.”

Martina stood up, captured both my hands in hers and pressed them together. “I’m here for you, Kim, anytime you want. Just whistle and I’ll come running.”

“I
know
that, honey,” I informed her, “and that’s why I have to be so very careful about this. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” A loving smile lit up her face and she gave my hands a final squeeze and then left me alone with my chaotic thoughts.

Chapter 14
.

- Well done, although hardly ‘classic’. I often wondered how you and Martina finally got together.

- Yes, love is a mystery, that’s for sure. I’m still not quite sure
how
it happened. One minute I wasn’t in love, and the next minute I
was
. Weird.

- That describes
you
in a nutshell.

- Careful. I don’t suffer fools gladly.

- Really? You must hate your
own
company then.

-
Enough
! Tell me about you and Bella. I’ve told you about me and Martina.

- All in good time, my sweet. All in good
time
. A tale like ours has to be savoured like a fine wine – slowly and delicately.

- Spare me.

- Quiet, you!

The next morning, we readied ourselves to attend the auction. Bella insisted on coming, claiming that her injury wouldn’t be a problem. I couldn't help noticing that Kim and Martina were giving each other sharp, conspiratorial glances and then looking away again just as quickly. Obviously,
something
momentous had happened in their relationship, but I didn't have the time to speculate about it right then. We drove to the auction in plenty of time and looked eagerly at the catalogue for what Lot Fifteen was supposed to be. It turned out to be a spice rack.

“A
spice
rack?” Bella asked in astonishment. “Are you
sure
this is right?”

Kim scratched her head. “I'll admit sounds a bit bizarre,” she admitted. “But it's the
only
lead we have. Let's bid on it anyway. How much money can we scrape together?”

We pooled our individual financial assets and came up with a hundred and twenty dollars between us all.

“That should be enough,” Kim assured us. “I can't imagine that a spice rack would sell for very much.”

“Probably not,” I commented, “
if
we’re the only people bidding on it. Just remember that someone
else
might have read that message as well.”

“Yes, I didn't think of that,” Kim mused. “We'll have to play it by ear. Anyway, this could be a wild goose chase.”

“We'll find out soon enough,” Martina interjected.

“How so?” Bella asked.

“Well, if someone starts a serious bidding war, then we
know
we're on the right track,” Martina replied. “Nobody in their right mind would spend a lot of money on a second-hand spice rack.”

“Well done, young Jedi,” Kim said admiringly, giving Martina a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Okay, troops, let's stick together and see what unfolds.”

The auction proceeded in a boring fashion as amateur auctions often do. There was no jumping up and screaming with frantic bids as you see in the movies. The whole thing ambled along with sedate calmness with nobody getting very excited about anything. I was scrutinising the catalogue when the bidding started for item number twelve. I heard an excited voice nearby raising the bid time after time until the auctioneer cried “
Sold
!” Lot Twelve was listed as a ‘unique clock’ and I wondered what sort of weirdo could become so enraptured over a mere
clock
. I looked up from the catalogue to find Kim proudly clutching the said timepiece. It was a huge, ugly wooden thing. Whoever had made it hadn't been able to decide on a manufacturing period because it was part Victorian, part Grecian, part Rococo and had been frescoed to a
ridiculous
degree.

“What on earth is
that
monstrosity?” I exclaimed, horrified. “Kim, it's
hideous
! Take it back immediately!”

“
Won't
!” she replied, like an argumentative child. “It's a work of beauty. A
masterpiece
. What do
you
know about art?”

“A lot more that
you
do, apparently,” I told her, bluntly. “Your taste in art has always been appalling, but this is
beyond
a joke. Exactly how much did you pay for this……..
thing
? I wasn’t listening to the bidding.”

“Fifteen dollars,” Kim said defensively. “But just
look
at it! It was a
bargain
!”

I was about to continue my scathing denunciation of Kim's purchase when Lot Fifteen came up for sale. Bella put her hand on my arm and I turned toward the auctioneer who was holding up the object we had all come to see. It seemed to be well made but didn't appear to possess any specific noteworthy features. Kim started the bidding at one dollar and several people joined in but when the price was raised to five dollars everyone else dropped out except for
one
man on the far side of the room who began to increase his offering by five dollars at a time.

“I think you're right,” Kim whispered to me. “Somebody
else
must have read that note. Here,” she said, handing me her eyesore of a purchase, “look after this for me. And be
careful
with it! I'll have to go and see to our rival before he outbids us. Keep a dollar ahead of him. I won't be long.” She sidled off through the crowd and disappeared. Martina started to follow Kim but I restrained her with a grip on her elbow. I shook my head in silent negation at her rebellious look and concentrated on keeping financially ahead of our competitor. The bidding had reached ninety dollars, to the absolute
astonishment
of the auctioneer and everybody present, when there was a sudden silence at the far side of the room.

“Going once, going twice……
Sold
!” was the verdict, and we had ourselves a spice rack.

“What happened to our rival?” I asked Kim curiously, as we drove back home to our place.

“Oh, he had to take a little nap,” she explained.

“How did you explain that to the people
around
him?” Bella inquired.

“I just told them that he was drunk,” Kim casually replied. “Then I dragged him out and sat him in a chair in another room.”

“What if he happened to
be
an innocent bystander, and was honestly bidding for the spice rack?” Bella tentatively asked.

“
Ninety
dollars plus for a beat up spice rack?” Kim snorted, derisively. “Nobody is
that
innocent.”

We drove to our house and, after installing Kim’s beloved atrocity on the mantelpiece where it immediately downgraded the resale value of everything in its immediate vicinity by its very presence, we placed our prize on the kitchen table and scrutinised it carefully. To all outward appearances, it was exactly what it pertained to be – a common, ordinary, run-of-the-mill spice rack. It was obviously old, with scratches and dents marring its surface. The eight spice bottles were labelled with their ingredients but weren’t arranged in alphabetical order, with the ‘dill’ and ‘pepper’ being doubled up for some reason.

“Maybe there's a sealed note
inside
one of the bottles like the last few times,” Martina suggested.

Kim shrugged. “That's as good a starting point as any,” she commented. “Let's do it.”

We carefully emptied each spice bottle into eight cups but found nothing.

“So much for
that
idea,” Bella said, disappointed. “What we do next?” We looked at each other in bafflement.

“Beats me,” Kim remarked. “There's just a wooden frame with empty bottles. I can't see any hidden compartments or disguised messages. Maybe we got it wrong after all.”

“Perhaps it's some sort of code,” I pondered. “You know, like a cipher.”

“That's
right
!” Martina said, fervently. “If what we are looking for wasn't in the bottles and isn't on the frame, it has to be in the
spices
themselves.”

“Exactly,” I enthused, caught up in the moment. “Is there anything strange about them, do you think?”

Martina 's face went blank as she concentrated. Kim and Bella held their breath, not daring to interrupt our train of thought.

“It certainly is a weird collection,” Martina observed. “I mean, ‘dill’, ‘pepper’, ‘wasabi’ and ‘horseradish’ okay, but ‘yerba buena’ and ‘
zedoary’
? What the hell
is
‘zedoary’ anyway?”

“Yeah, those last two are certainly peculiar,” I concurred. “Let's break it down. The spices must stand for something. Do the first letters of each one spell a
word
or something?”

We all tried to juggle the letters around to form a word, or words, but had no success at all.

“There's no
vowels
,” Martina complained. “Scratch that then. What about the
second
letters?”

“Now there's no
consonants
,” I grumbled. “I don't think this is going to get us anywhere. We'll have to try another tack.”

“One more go,” Martina suggested. “How about we take the first and second letters of
alternate
words?”

We tried this also and met with resounding failure.

“We're definitely on the wrong track here,” I commented, sourly. “Does anybody else have any suggestions?”

Kim and Bella displayed vacant stares. Martina was screwing her face up in thought.

“How about……
substitution
?” she hesitantly offered.

“You clever,
clever
girl,” I congratulated warmly. “Let's try.”

“What do you mean by ‘substitution’?” Kim asked, perplexed.

“It's a really old and simple code system,” I explained. “You simply substitute numbers for
letters
of the alphabet. You know, ‘A is ‘1’, ‘B’ is ‘2’ et cetera. Simple, but effective.”

“Let's see what we have, then,” Martina told us, writing down the numbers on a piece of paper. “D is four – twice, P is sixteen, W is twenty three, P again, H is eight, Y is twenty-five and Z is twenty-six.” She handed around the piece of paper. “So there we have it.”

4, 4, 16, 23, 16, 8, 25, 26

“That's all very nice,” Kim said, “but what does it
mean
?”

“Well, numbers could mean any
number
of things, pardon the pun,” Martina clarified, “but if we're looking for something at a specific location, then it could mean only
one
thing, don't you agree, Paul?”

“Of course,” I acceded, as realisation dawned. “What
else
could it be?”

“It's all very well for you two geniuses,” Kim criticised with some asperity,” but could you please explain your conclusions to the
rest
of the local brain-cell-challenged community?”

“It's simple really,” I told her. “I'm kicking myself that I didn't see it earlier. To find something you need a
map
. And to find a place on a map you need guidelines. And guidelines on a map are always latitude and longitude numbers.”

“The spices weren’t picked for their culinary taste,” Martina excitedly interjected, “but because the
numbers
they stood for had to be the correct ones. That's why the last spices were so strange.”

“And that’s why they weren’t in alphabetical order,” I concluded triumphantly.

“You two are
brilliant
,” Kim congratulated. “I feel like a positive ignoramus just standing beside you.”

“I second that,” Bella agreed, coming up to me and taking possession of my arm. She tilted her head upwards and pouted her lips. “
Kiss
me, my talented stud muffin!” I hastened to comply with her request.

“And you come here too, you incredibly clever Smurf,” Kim commanded Martina. “Why should
those
two have all the fun?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kim enfolding Martina in her arms and kissing her with a tad
more
than friendly affection.
Hello, hello, what's all this, then
? I thought to myself. Kim and
Martina
? I never even suspected. Well,
there
you go. At least we can go out on double dates now. I became rather distracted at this stage with the feel of Bella's body pressing against me. Maybe it was time to bring our relationship to the
next
level. I knew she was still totally confused by my refusal to take her to bed, but if I put it off for too much longer she might begin to think that I didn't fancy her. And that would be a total misunderstanding on her part. Because I did.
Big
time. She was one of the sexiest women I'd ever known. But I knew she didn't see
herself
in that light. She still suffered from an incredibly poor self-image although I truly believed that my attitude towards her was changing that misconception bit by bit. She still plied her chosen profession but I noticed that she was spending more and more time with me and
less
with her clients. This pleased me immensely because I hoped it meant that she was becoming more interested in me as a person.