Lost Things: Three Adventure Novels

by K. T. Tomb

  The vision slowly dissolved around him.

  Franco found himself once more standing in the abandoned ship at the bottom of the sea.

  “This is Franco to base,” he said into his comm link. “Preparing for ascent.”

  “Affirmative,” Nick said in reply. “Any sign of the diamonds?”

  “Negative.”

  Franco turned to leave the dining room, and as he did, the orb of his headlamp caught a reflection of something glinting against the wall. A halfhearted thought fluttered into Franco's mind that perhaps he had found the diamonds after all, though if he were to be honest, he did not feel the burning need to find them any longer. Matvei had promised them a payout regardless of the outcome if Franco could complete the final dive. Regardless, he wanted to check just to be thorough. Franco approached the area against the wall. He recognized the form of the dive suit even before he had gotten much closer. The suit was identical to the one he himself was wearing, gray with the orange pinstripe edging. He had found Harper's body. He reached forward to attempt to uncover a film that had formed over the face plate. He had no way to retrieve the corpse of course, but he wanted to see with his own eyes what had happened to the man. When he touched the surface of the face plate, it strangely dissolved, crumbling under his touch. This exposed the face underneath. Franco saw nothing more than a bare skeleton, as if Harper had died here a century ago. The coloring of the suit looked faded much like the rest of the ship which had been exposed to the elements of the sea for decades. The sick, grinning skull stared back at Franco and he suddenly felt the need to be away from there. Franco turned and kicked through the opening in the large window above, beginning his ascent back to the support vessel.

  Two hours later his head broke the surface of the sea. This time, he had been able to ascend slowly with the designated rests along the way to prevent the decompression sickness he had suffered last time. Nonetheless, he was grateful for the reaching arms of Nick and Lisa as they pulled him onto the deck of the ship. He opened his face plate and purged the liquid from his body. Despite the strenuous exertion from the dive itself, Franco felt overcome by what he had seen down below in the bowels of the Titanic. He felt something inside himself that he had not felt for a very long time. He was not quite ready to explore that feeling. He lay on his side on the cool wooden surface of the small ship, feeling the calming motion of the sea beneath him. The sun warmed his face as the other two knelt by him, releasing the various parts of the suit so he could remove it.

  “What's this?” Lisa said.

  “What?” Franco asked, not moving from his position on the deck.

  He sensed Nick leaning over to see what Lisa had discovered. He felt her pull something from his belt; the carrying bag that he had taken the locket down to the ship in. Lisa opened the bag and pulled something small out. Franco still could not see it. He wanted nothing more than to lie still for a moment, then take a shower and have a cup of coffee. All the while feeling the movement of the ship headed back to harbor, finally done with this adventure.

  “This can't be,” Lisa said.

  “Whoa,” Nick exclaimed. “Franco, you better take a look.”

  Against his desire, Franco pulled himself up into a sitting position. Nestled in Lisa's hand was a small blue satchel that had last been seen in the depths of the wreckage of the Titanic.

  “The diamonds,” Franco said.

  All the emotion had drained from his voice.

  “I thought you said you hadn't found them,” Nick said.

  “I didn't find them,” Franco said. “Darya must have given them to me.”

  Franco looked at Nick and wordlessly communicated with a look to drop the topic. Nick and Franco had been through dives so many times together that they had each other's moods and idiosyncrasies down to a science.

  “Let's get you into decom,” Nick said.

  “I'm fine,” Franco said. “Let's turn the ship around and get back to land.”

  Lisa signaled the captain and gave the all clear. A moment later, the engine started and the nose of the DSV Diamond turned back the way they had come two days before. The propellers started up and they began to move. Franco stood and watched over the edge, partially to make sure that no one or nothing had somehow clutched to the hull of the ship to continue to haunt his dreams. But nothing did. Franco knew that having the diamonds was good news, but he felt drained and empty after the events of the last few days. He watched the spot where they had been stationed, just on top of the Titanic, as it faded away and soon blended with the rest of the blue expanse of the sea.

  Chapter Eight

  June 28, 2014

  Moscow, Russia, The home office of Leo Matvei

  “I cannot thank you enough for seeing me today,” Franco said to the man before him, as they sat in the roomy home office.

  Leo Matvei sat at the large oak desk surrounded by a large expanse of bookshelves. Behind him, the picture window framed him with a view of the immaculate gardens. In the distance, Franco could see the edging of a large hedge maze. The man looked pale and thin, with a wisp of white hair on his head, but he had a bright spark in his eye which defied his eighty years. His gleaming ivory cane rested against the desk next to him. The man nodded at Franco's greeting.

  “Tell me everything,” he said in a strong, bellowing voice.

  He motioned for Franco to sit in one of the ornate leather chairs facing the large desk.

  “And hold nothing back. I know your experience during the dive may have been a bit unconventional, but fear not, my boy. I am a bit unconventional myself. None of this, 'my mind played tricks on me' nonsense! I want to hear the whole thing, word for word.”

  He punctuated his words by pointing his thin finger onto his desk top as he spoke.

  Franco did so and began the tale. Leo listened intently, nodding and shaking his head at certain parts. His eyes flamed when Franco mentioned the fate of Harper. When Franco described the final vision of Darya and Stephan dancing together, he could see moisture standing in the eyes of the old man. Leo nodded again when Franco described arriving back on the support vessel and finding the diamonds in the carrying bag, impossible but present nonetheless.

  “Darya had seen that you were worthy to have them,” Leo said with conviction.

  “And now I have brought them to you,” Franco said, bringing forth a small, white jewelry box.

  He placed the box on the desk before Leo, who turned and lifted his hands over the lid. His thin fingers caressed the edge of the lid. Leo's aged face became like that of a child experiencing the joy of opening a present, relishing in the last moment of not knowing. He took a breath and lifted the lid and the small cotton padding that lay on top, exposing the small satchel. Leo removed the delicate purse, almost paper thin. The fabric would have to be replaced. He carefully opened the drawstring, his thin fingers fumbling with the loose knot. Carefully, he poured the diamonds onto the dark brown surface of the desk, counting each one as it emerged. Franco watched the rapture overtake the man's face at the sight of the small luminous jewels. His family legacy had been at long last restored. A cry of joy escaped Leo's lips as he fingered over each small jewel, each one glowing from an inner light captured by the sunlight through the picture window.

  “So beautiful!” he cried, emotion choking his words. “They are all there; each one representing a generation of the maternal family line. How can I thank you?”

  “You have done more than you know,” Franco said quietly.

  Leo carefully collected the jewels back together and placed the satchel back into the box.

  “There is more,” Franco said.

  He reached into the carrying case and pulled out the small chest they had found aboard the Titanic. The photographs and the diary lay within. Leo opened the box to discover these final treasures. He stared at the pictures, speechless. His fingers grazed over the image of Darya as she stood next to her younger sister in the photograph.

  “My grandmother,” Leo sai
d, referring to the younger of the girls pictured. “She had always been very distraught over her sister's disappearance. She often spoke of her heartbreak when I was a young child. You don't know...” he became choked again with emotion. “This,” he said, holding the journal and photos to his chest. “This is priceless.”

  Franco could not help but feel the closure and gratitude coming from the old man before him. Again, something stirred and awakened deep inside himself, and again he felt that he was not quite ready to face it.

  “Grandfather.”

  A lilting voice at the door of the study caused both men to turn.

  “Ah, my dearest darling!” Leo cried. “Come in! Come in!”

  Franco stood out of polite custom, as the young woman pranced into the room, sitting on the arm of the chair in which Leo sat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a small kiss on her grandfather's cheek. The young woman had a full head of dark curly hair, large bright eyes and a wide smile full of energy. Franco could little help but notice her near identical resemblance to her great-great-aunt. She was the very picture of Darya in the living flesh.

  “Franco, this is my granddaughter, Tanya,” Leo said, introducing them.

  “Pleased to meet you, Franco,” she said, extending a hand to him.

  Franco took her hand almost expecting his own to pass through as it had on the ship when he had tried to reach out to Darya in the dining room. But his skin made contact with Tanya's hand and she gave him an enthusiastic shake, smiling all the while. Rendered speechless, Franco simply smiled.

  “Tanya is to be wed very soon,” Leo explained. “She is largely the reason why I hired you to find the diamonds. I wanted to restore our legacy. Now she will give them to her betrothed on their wedding day. The custom of the dowry is restored.”

  “Oh, don't start getting sentimental, Grandfather,” Tanya said playfully. “Besides, Boris is here. He only just arrived.”

  “Well, go and get him!” Leo said, shooing the girl off the arm as she laughed. Leo watched her leave. Turning back to Franco he explained. “Boris is her fiancé. He knows nothing about the diamonds. It is to be her surprise to him after they wed. He is a good man, madly in love with her.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Franco said.

  Leo's eyes grew distant as he nodded. “It is strange,” he said, with a serious tone. “All of the struggles that each generation suffers all get washed away by the waves of time. I am an old man, soon to die. But Tanya... is young and in love, her whole life ahead of her. As we all were once....”

  Leo's waxing was interrupted by the return of Tanya, bringing a smile back to the old man's face. Leo stood to shake hands with Boris. Franco stood as well, waiting to be introduced, feeling again like an intruder in a personal family moment. When Tanya and Boris entered the room, Franco felt overwhelmed again by the mirror of Tanya to the face in the photographs, the face he had seen in the visions aboard the Titanic. Only this face – Tanya's face – was alive and vibrant. The man next to her had a strong farmer's build and shoulder length blond hair, but he bore no resemblance to Stephan. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt. He had his arm resting lightly around her waist and they smiled at each other with utter devotion.

  “I must go,” Franco said to Leo.

  “Hogwash,” Leo replied. “You stay for dinner.”

  “My sincerest apologies,” Franco said. “But I do have a pressing engagement of my own that I must attend to. I thank you for your hospitality. Should you ever have need of my services again, you have my card.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. I understand. Thank you again for all you have done.”

  “It was very nice to meet you, sir,” Tanya said as Franco rose to leave.

  “Please,” Franco said in reply. “Not sir. You may call me Franco.”

  He took one last look at the living embodiment of Darya's face, inherited from one generation to the next, smiling at her beloved sitting next to her, and the family patriarch gazing over them from behind the oak desk. Franco exited the room, down the hall and out the front door, nearly skipping down the stone steps to his car. He started the vehicle and pulled out, driving down the shady country lane toward the main road.

  The stirring in his chest had returned. This time, he embraced the feeling percolating inside of him. He prodded at it with his inner mind, picking it up and turning it over. Something he had not seen for a while, something he had not even realized how much he had missed. He thought he had found it many times, by seeking the largest payout he could find working as a petty thief and criminal. But this time it was different. The sense of satisfaction came not from what he had gained materially from Leo Matvei. Instead, this came from the idea that he had a hand in contributing to the good of another. As Franco drove along, feeling the breeze through the rolled down window of his car, tinged with the scent of honeysuckle, the trees creating a shaded canopy, dappling the road with delicate spots of sunlight, Franco realized that the feeling that was growing inside of him was happiness.

  He reached into his console and found his own cell phone. With his thumb, he scrolled through the names until he found the very one that he had not spoken with in the longest. With a moment of hesitation, he pressed 'send'.

  “Hello,” the raspy voice said on the other end of the line.

  “Dad?” he said the word for the first time in twenty years. “Dad, it's Franco.”

  The End

  Return to the Table of Contents

  CURSE OF THE COINS

  An adventure novel

  by

  K.T. TOMB

  Curse of the Coins

  Published by K.T. Tomb

  Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  The author wishes to dedicate this book to the late

  Jerry Hicks.

  Curse of the Coins

  Prologue

  “As they sat there in the synagogue that afternoon before Jesus began to speak, there was just one great mystery, just one supreme question, in the minds of all. Both his friends and his foes pondered just one thought, and that was: ‘Why did he himself so deliberately and effectively turn back the tide of popular enthusiasm?’ And it was immediately before and immediately after this sermon that the doubts and disappointments of his disgruntled adherents grew into unconscious opposition and eventually turned into actual hatred. It was after this sermon in the synagogue that Judas Iscariot entertained his first conscious thought of deserting. But he did, for the time being, effectively master all such inclinations.” –The Urantia Book 153:1.5

  Professor Jonathan Grindlay pushed aside a half-charred two by four that the cleaning crew had left behind. He glanced around at the rubble, most of it having been cleared out already, but a few bones of the structure, a shadow of what had once been, still remained. It was a shame, really. It had been a beautiful church, over three hundred years old, and a landmark in the neighborhood. Other churches, larger and more ornate than this one, had been erected over the years, some of them bearing over the squat building, but none had the history and the worth that this one had had. He was saddened by thoughts of the fire that had ravaged through, but smiled a bit, subconsciously, at the prospect of the treasures that had been hidden and forgotten within the walls.

  Everything within the walls above ground had been lost in the flame, save a few artifacts that refused to melt down without temperatures much higher than what had been produced here. They required fires that had to be coerced and force fed, and a simple structure fire just wasn’t going to cut it. He was hoping that the same could be said for the contents below the surface. The kids – in his mind, they would always be kids, no matter their age – followed closely behind. Most had done excavations with him before. This was Boston and old structure
fires were relatively common.

  However, this excavation was a first for Julie who, unlike the others who had graduated the year before, had been unable to attend previously. But this year, alongside her fiancé, Piers, she was just as ready and willing as the rest of them, if not more.

  For them, this was an adventure. Lost treasures and untold stories. Pirates, kings and queens, legends and relics, this was why they were all here. All save Grindlay, who was out for much more than just the adventure. After so many years, he’d lost count of just how many; the adventure was no longer there. Now it was just disappointment after disappointment, and his only crew was always students or, rather, fresh out of grad school, who didn’t have a clue of what they were doing or what they were looking for. Still, they could work in his favor, too, given the right circumstances.

  Grindlay shoved a long, stray gray hair behind his ear. He’d pulled most of it back and secured it with a rubber band, but most times it was an unruly bunch and he often felt the annoying tickle of strands escaping and obscuring his view. The students watched him anxiously, awaiting his direction as he scoured the burn site; stepping lightly here, moving quickly there, avoiding this plank altogether while balancing precariously on that one. The entire group was a bit weary as they stepped onto the blackened ground, the crucifix shape of the church forever burned into the soil along the perimeter of the colonial building. Julie felt chilled suddenly, as if ghosts still lingered, their fingers brushing across her skin.

  Piers pulled her close, giving a quick kiss to her cheek, as his eyes roamed the tiny area, imagining the box pews lining either side of the nave, noticing the area where the pulpit should have been was slightly brighter than the remainder of the site. He imagined the choir sitting just behind, waiting to burst into their hymns. He could almost hear the organ playing, could almost see the women with their dull-colored petticoats and the men with their white, powdered wigs. The church had been remodeled several times over the years, but the integrity of the church, the character that it had, had always remained. It was devastating to see such heritage lying in a pile of rubble and ash beneath their feet, but here it was nonetheless.