Beneath the Hallowed Hill

by Theresa Crater

  “On the contrary. He seems…” Michael hesitated, “…happy.” He shrugged in apology, but Adeline nodded.

  “That’s a relief. When someone’s life is cut off like that, it can cause problems. The person has to reorient themselves if there’s unfinished business.”

  “You had experience with this?” Michael asked.

  “Oh my, yes.” Adeline looked around to be sure they weren’t overheard. “I used to work with Frank, the man from the California lodge, exorcising houses.”

  “Really?” Guy leaned forward.

  “Many of those spirits met a violent end. We helped them reconcile and move on.”

  “You haven’t felt Robert?” Guy asked.

  “Not yet. I expect I will tonight or during the funeral.”

  Other members arrived, and they began to reminisce. Michael joined in, savoring bittersweet memories and relishing new tales. They finished the evening late at The Mortlake, one of Robert’s favorite English pubs.

  A sudden silence in the chapel brought Michael back to the present. The choir finished their hymn. At a gesture from the director, they sat, scraping chairs and shuffling music sheets. A lone sniff sounded through the church. Michael rubbed his temples, hoping to unseat the dull headache that had been with him since he woke up this morning. Too much Queen’s Blond Ale from last night, he supposed.

  “It’s more than that,” Robert’s voice sounded in his ear. “Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine.”

  “What do you mean?” Michael asked, but the minister introduced Robert’s wife, who walked to the front to deliver part of the eulogy, and Robert gave her his full attention. She talked about how she met Robert, how it was love at first sight. Michael thought it probably was a past life connection. Robert hovered in his corner, his light pulsing as she spoke.

  One of Robert’s long time business associates talked next, then it was Michael’s turn.

  He walked quickly to the pulpit, note cards in his moist hands. He gulped water from the glass sitting next to the thin microphone, and looked out at the sea of faces—family, friends, business associates. Sprinkled among them was Michael’s audience, the Lodge, a group most of the others had no idea existed. He only needed a few well chosen words, nothing more, to soothe the hearts of those who stood by Robert as he led their ceremonies and came to him with their questions. Robert recruited them, trained them, and finally conducted their initiations.

  “I’m honored that the Rhodes family asked me to speak today,” he began. “Robert was my dearest friend. I am an Egyptologist. Robert and I shared an interest in the past. Some of the most productive and pleasurable moments of my life were spent in his company, delving into his extensive library. I want to thank Mrs. Rhodes for her indulgence in our pastime.”

  Laura waved her hand to dismiss this.

  “His knowledge in our pursuits was profound, a fact that always amazed me considering how hard he worked,” Michael nodded to the head of Robert’s firm, “and how devoted a husband and father he was.” The daughter wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “The time will come soon when you no longer have to hide.” Robert’s voice sounded low in his mind.

  “To those of you who shared our interest, I say that Robert Rhodes was a great scholar, a great friend, and a luminous soul.” A few business associates looked around, surprised.

  Robert’s boss frowned at these last words, but Michael continued. “He will be missed more than my paltry words can say.”

  “You shall do greater things than I,” Robert quoted in his ear.

  Michael’s throat closed and he squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears finally escaped, and he wept in front of the entire congregation. The minister escorted him to the edge of the platform, where Guy took him by the arm and led him back to his seat. He wiped his eyes. The headache was gone and he felt better than he had since getting the news of Robert’s death.

  Adeline patted his shoulder from the pew behind him. “Well spoken.”

  Michael nodded, now content in his silence. The minister announced the service would continue in Eternal Rest Cemetery, but somehow Michael couldn’t imagine Robert resting for eternity. The family followed the pallbearers out with the congregation crowding behind.

  Guy and Adeline hovered around him on the steps. “Are you going to the graveside?” Guy asked.

  “I don’t have my car,” Adeline answered.

  “Come with me,” Michael said on impulse, and led them to the waiting limo.

  His two friends looked at each other. Lawrence opened the door and, after a slight hesitation, they got in. Michael slid across the seat and faced them. The limo pulled out and the police waved them toward the front, mistaking them for family.

  “At least we fit in,” Michael observed.

  Adeline laughed, then looked chagrined. Michael and Guy burst out laughing too.

  “What?” Adeline asked.

  “I think it’s just tension,” Guy said.

  “I saw him, Michael,” Adeline said. “I’m glad I finally saw him.”

  “Yes?”

  “He looked proud of you.”

  Adeline looked at Guy, who shook his head. “I thought I felt a hand on my shoulder when I walked Michael back.”

  “Yes, he was with you,” she said. “You know, I’m surprised Robert wasn’t cremated.”

  “His family’s tradition took precedence,” Michael said. “Robert said it wasn’t worth upsetting Laura.”

  When they arrived, the crowd had thinned significantly. The family sat in a row of metal folding chairs before the casket and a heap of earth discreetly covered in a green tarp. The Lodge members gathered behind them. Stephen found them first, then Diane, and they stood together in a tight knot. After the minister read from the liturgy and the group made the proper responses, he held up his hands in blessing. A sudden burst of light made Michael glance up to see if the sun had come out from behind a cloud, but the sky was a clear blue. He looked back, and standing beside the minister was Robert, radiant with light. A shimmering form waited behind him. Robert gazed at each of the lodge members in turn. Michael felt an urge to salute him and Guy took a sharp breath. Robert turned back to the form behind him and they disappeared.

  “Goodbye, old friend,” Michael sent, but this time there was no answer.

  * * * *

  The drive to Grandmother Elizabeth’s house was a welcome respite from the surge of people at the wake and this morning’s funeral. Michael had time to sit back and watch the scenery change from city to endless strip malls. He felt as empty as the repetitious display of chain stores. Finally these ended and gave way to rolling green hills, and peace of a kind settled over him. Lawrence pulled up to the wrought-iron gate and the man in the booth pushed a button, nodding to them as they passed. They drove through the fenced pastures, dotted here and there with grazing horses. Around a bend, a new foal cavorted near its mother, legs wobbling.

  “Two days old,” Lawrence said. “The first one this year.”

  Michael watched the baby until the stand of oaks blocked the view. They pulled around the crescent driveway and stopped in front of the star-shaped reflecting pool. He made his way across the drive, gravel crunching underfoot. Inside, he climbed the sweeping stairway and walked down the dark paneled hallway until he came to the library. The double doors stood open. Doctor Abernathy sat at the large desk, Arnold in a chair in front.

  Doctor Abernathy waved him in. “Arnold has just returned.”

  Michael sat and Arnold said, “He rented a house on the island and a yacht, but the locals say he comes and goes by plane.”

  “This is Cagliostro?” Michael asked.

  “Yes.” Arnold nodded. “He arrived yesterday. I couldn’t dig up any information about his plans. Looks like he’s put the fear of God into the people at the
marina.”

  “Not quite God,” Michael said in a low voice.

  Arnold snorted. “I couldn’t get a word out of them. I’m sure they’ll report back that someone was snooping around. I did manage to get some cooperation, so I’ll hear about his movements.”

  “Who?” Doctor Abernathy asked.

  “One of the housekeeping staff.”

  Doctor Abernathy nodded.

  “What island is he on?” Michael asked.

  “Bimini,” Arnold said.

  “Of course,” Michael said. “The Bimini Road. That’s where they found the underwater stones back in the sixties, evenly cut rocks that look like the top of a wall or road. People think it’s a remnant of Atlantis.”

  “Go find those records of yours,” Doctor Abernathy said to Michael. “We need to get ahead of Cagliostro this time.”

  Michael strode down to a building near the stables that looked like another barn but served as an environmentally controlled storage facility for the family. Rows of file cabinets filled one wall. Michael found his cardboard boxes, looking scruffy beside the neat crates that stood in the middle of the room on raised wooden platforms. He rummaged for a while before he found the box with his Atlantis research, and stooped to pick it up.

  “I’ll get that for you, sir.”

  A young handyman stood behind him.

  “I don’t mind,” Michael said.

  “Doctor Abernathy’s orders, sir.”

  Michael was learning not to argue with the staff. He followed the man back to the library where he placed the box on the coffee table between the two sofas as if it were fine china. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, thank you.”

  The handyman left. Doctor Abernathy sat behind the desk absorbed in paperwork, Arnold worked on his laptop on the opposite sofa. Michael set the box on the floor and shuffled through the files until he found one marked Crystals and Other Stones. He pulled it out and sorted through articles he cut out, a bibliography, and photos. Finally he found it, a report he did for Robert on all known Atlantean crystal or stone artifacts.

  It was two years old. He’d have to do a little updating, but probably wouldn’t find much new material; archaeology usually didn’t change that quickly. He skimmed the list. The first page-and-a-half listed crystals in museums around the world. The list noted the owner and provenance, and it provided a short description and a report on whether any psychics worked with the stone. Next were stone artifacts, followed by a longer list of private collectors, similarly divided. He put the artifacts whose existence was confirmed but whose present location was unknown at the end of the list.

  “Holy shit.” Michael looked up. “The Chintamani Stone.”

  Doctor Abernathy let out a long sigh. Arnold looked from one to the other, a frown on his face.

  “The Chintamani Stone has a long history.” Michael read from his report. “The main stone is said to reside in Shambhala, high in the Himalayas. The Sanskrit translation is something like ‘magical stone from another world’. Legend holds it was given to the Atlantean Emperor Tazlavoo by a visitor ‘from the heavens.’ Some say Orion, others Sirius. In Asia, the crystal is known as ‘the jewel that grants all desires.’ In the west, ‘the Stone of Heaven.’ Good esoteric sources claim the stone tunes the Earth to the rhythm of the universe.”

  “Well, if it’s in Shambhala,” Arnold said, “we don’t have to worry about that one.”

  “Actually, Helena Roerich, Nicholas’s wife, was given a fragment of the Chintamani to wear when they traveled in Asia,” Michael said. “The Roerichs were artists and mystics. They studied eastern philosophy and the Theosophical Society’s teachings. In fact, they translated Blavatsky into Russian. In the 1930s, they traveled in the east, studying and searching for Shambhala.”

  “Did they find it?” Arnold asked.

  “I doubt it, the expedition was harassed by the authorities. I’m sure they met with spiritual leaders who had contact with Shambhala themselves, but I guess it’s possible that they went there themselves.” Michael shrugged. “Their biographer claims that Helena was chosen to represent the Mother of the World. She was instructed to use the stone fragment to set the energies for the new age. The bad news is that this piece is connected to the main body of the stone in Shambhala.”

  “So where is this necklace?” Arnold asked.

  “No one knows, really.” Michael rubbed at his eyes. “Some say the Roerichs left it in Shigatse, where the Tashilumpo Monastery is located. It’s supposed to be connected to Shambhala by underground tunnels. Other sources claim it’s in…” He squinted, trying to remember. “…Agartha.”

  “Where is that?”

  “The center of the Earth.” Michael couldn’t help but laugh.

  Arnold favored him with a look.

  “The stone could also be in the American Museum of Natural History right here in Manhattan.”

  “I vote for that,” Arnold said.

  “You’ll like this one. Others claim it is with the Kaaba in the great mosque in Mecca.”

  “Kaaba?” Arnold looked first at Michael, then at Doctor Abernathy, who took a breath to explain.

  “It’s a large black meteorite sacred to Islam.”

  “No, a large scarab from ancient Egypt,” Michael argued.

  “Whichever,” Arnold said. “If it’s there, it’s safe from both me and Cagliostro.”

  Michael held up a finger. “It could be in the Moscow Museum or the Roerich Museum in Moscow. His paintings are in several museums, but I think we can count the rest out.”

  “It seems one of our tasks will be to find this fragment.” Doctor Abernathy’s tone was mild.

  Michael eyed him. “Only a lifetime’s work.”

  * * * *

  Michael spent the next day back in the city. His first stop was the American Museum of Natural History—an unlikely place for the Chintamani Stone, but perhaps that was a good reason to hide it amongst dinosaur skeletons, human skulls, and neckties for the museum shop. He waved at the clerk behind the information desk, who recognized him from his old job at the Metropolitan Museum, and took the stairs to the curators’ offices two at a time. He arrived at Doctor Nancy Langton’s door and knocked, receiving a grumpy “Yes?” at his second knock.

  He pushed the door open, but didn’t enter.

  Nancy looked up, a scowl on her face until she saw him. “Michael.” She popped up from her desk, arms open.

  He gave her a quick hug. “It’s good to see you,” he said, and plopped down in one of the chairs facing her desk.

  She sat down and glanced at her computer. “Let me just save this.” She pushed a few buttons, then turned back with a broad smile. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I’ve got a question for the best esoteric geologist in the business,” he said. At the word ”esoteric,” Nancy’s eyes darted to the door. Michael reached around and swung it shut. “Still in the closet, I see.”

  “Not all of us have been taken into the bosom of a wealthy family,” she scolded, but her smile belied the harsh words. “When’s the big day? Do I get an invitation?”

  “Middle of May,” he said. “The family’s secretary is handling all the arrangements.”

  “Family secretary,” she repeated, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Your name is on the list,” Michael said before she could tease him any more. “Speaking of families, how’s yours?”

  “Great. The kids are shooting up like weeds, as they say. Tom’s good too. So, what’s up?” Her eyes shone in anticipation.

  Nancy spent most of her days planning programs to interest children in rocks. Michael imagined he brought her juicier fare. He told her the story of the missing crystals, leaving out the grisly detail of Robert’s murder: better not to dip into those waters today
. “I’m trying to get ahead of this thief and imagine what other crystals he would target.”

  “He?” Nancy tapped a pencil on her desk. “Women steal, too, you know.”

  “We know who it is.”

  “Then why don’t the police go arrest him?”

  Michael couldn’t very well tell her that the police didn’t know or how he came by this information, so he said, “Lack of hard evidence, money, political influence…the usual.”

  She sat back in her chair, hands clasped behind her back. “You must be wondering if this fine establishment is housing the Chintamani Stone in secret.”

  Michael blinked. “That was quick.”

  Nancy laughed with the glee of a sprite who’s just tweaked someone’s nose. “What else could it be?”

  Michael grinned in spite of his heavy heart. “Well?”

  “I’ll have to check the records.”

  “Surely they wouldn’t be available for just anybody to see,” Michael said.

  Nancy cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not just anybody.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest—” Michael began to blurt, then pulled up short when he saw her smile.

  “No offense taken,” she said. “Any other artifacts I should look for?”

  “I can’t think of any that might be here.”

  “Consult with Robert. He knows his rocks,” she said. At the look on his face, she stopped short. “What?”

  Michael took a breath to explain, but it caught in his chest.

  “What is it?” Her voice carried the experience of a mother comforting a fractious child.

  “Robert was killed during one of the robberies,” he said.

  “I didn’t hear.” She moved to his side and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Michael.”

  He struggled with himself. This was not the time or the place.

  “You should be at home, or with your lodge, not out here conducting business.”

  He shook his head. “The funeral was yesterday. It’s time to get back to work.”

  “That’s the worst time,” Nancy said, “when things are supposed to be normal again. That’s when it hit me with my father.”