Maya stepped gingerly on the rope and barely escaped toppling over. She took a deep breath, raised her hand high on either side, and continued. Once she had gotten over the initial trouble, the remaining 15 feet posed little problem. She emerged on the other side, the man was still a few yards behind. Maya clambered down the roof, jumped upon a window shed, then straight onto a cart of wool parked on the street. The man saw Maya emerge from the roof and before Maya could get back up on her feet he had run ahead. Maya followed him once more, this time much closer, but the bridge had ended, and in the distance, out onto the road she saw a cluster of horse hansoms. The man summoned one while still running and soon a cart stopped beside him. He had taken one step onto the cart when Maya jumped and latched firmly onto his overcoat. But the man was adamant at getting away, he let go of the overcoat and quickly settled inside the cart closing the door behind him, but not before Maya had a glimpse of the bright blue uniform he wore underneath. The man was a High Guard?
Maya was left rolling on the dirty pavement with the discarded overcoat as the horse cart rumbled ahead. She got up disappointed and saw the cart fade into the darkness. Maya dusted herself then looked at the overcoat. It was new and she could see the mark of the Tailor inside, it might be possible to find the man through the tailor. She scrounged the pockets of the garment in the hope of some more clues.
They were empty apart from a single piece of paper. It was a colorful card, like the ones that people stuck on top of gifts. Maya stepped into the glow of a Street Lamp to inspect her discovery. The note on the card was in a neat slanting hand which Maya was sure she had seen before.
“Wish you a prosperous future in South Africa.
Your Friend,
Ernst Wilhelm”
EIGHT
Pick Pocket's Story
Maya stood restlessly under a Mango tree on St. Sebastian square. It was dusk, and the square was abuzz with the evening traffic - people spilling out of offices like ants looking for food, tram drivers with arms raised raucously inviting passengers upon their cabs and hawkers jostling through the crowd with baskets laden with apples and candies. Maya caught a familiar face in the crowd, the face she was looking for. It gave her an inexplicable sense of relief.
Maya was at a very delicate point in solving the mystery. She had given the man in the crowd a very critical thread to explore. The success of his endeavor would define if she was on the brink of the solution or so far away from it that it was unlikely that she would ever grasp success. Banwari was dressed in a white shirt too loose for him, trousers folded four times over at the feet, and a torn flat cap upon his head. He was waddling in the crowd, his bony hands hanging loose at his side at a convenient height to graze coat pockets, purses, and wrists of the people brushing past him. Evening was the peak time for his profession. Banwari was a full-time beggar and a part-time pick-pocket. Maya saw him nick a golden pocket watch from an elderly gentleman, then a leather wallet from a tall man too busy speaking to a lady and then finally a lady’s handbag each of which disappeared in the loose shirt that he was wearing. He then casually strolled over to the Mango tree that Maya was waiting under.
“Hello madam,” he said bowing low to her in the regular way of beggars.
“I have never seen you dress up so smartly,” said Maya smiling good-naturedly. In her year-long association with him, she had only seen Banwari in the dirty toga that he wore while begging.
“I dress gentleman like when I picking pockets. Beggar cloth too smelly, people run away, not good for business,” replied Banwari in an English as patched as his dress.
“What about the work that I told you,” asked Maya in a whisper, “did you follow Munro?”
Once Maya had found Ernst’s farewell note in the strange man’s pocket, she had run straight to Ernst who was still sleeping on the pavement at Mill Street and questioned him about it. The high guard had stuck the note on a tie that he had gifted to the man whose farewell party he had attended in the night. The same man who was leaving Cardim for South Africa to claim his uncle’s inheritance. Maya had got the man, Michael Munro’s, address and then went over to Banwari, a beggar who sat on a street near his house and had asked him to keep an eye on the man and then report all his activities to her in the evening.
“I follow him, madam,” said the beggar, “All day. But let us go to dark place, this place Longstaff come with his cane and cause trouble.”
Banwari led Maya to a dark alley some distance off the square. They stepped into the shadows behind an overflowing garbage bin. The beggar then opened his shirt buttons and pulled out the lady’s purse to inspect. He rummaged it thoroughly in the dark but could only find a couple of coins and a small mirror. Banwari’s face dropped in disappointment.
“People grow poorer in this city every day.” he said grimly, “No purse now full of money. Earlier I get a purse and I live in peace for weeks, now not enough to buy even one beer.”
“Let me have the mirror,” said Maya. She had realized the benefit of having a mirror in her paraphernalia. Banwari handed her the mirror, pocketed the coins, and threw the purse away.
“So what about Munro?” asked Maya, as Banwari took out the pocket watch to explore.
“Boring man,” said Banwari running the watch in his hands, “He get out his house early in the morning, I just woken up for the day. He then go to place called Sandwich and Tea which is in the street he live. He eat a sandwich and milk while standing up. There is seat available but he stand which I find funny. He then pay the fat man in the shop. I know the fat man. Good man. When he happy he sometime give me sandwich to eat or even tea in evening. Mr. Munro then go back to his house. He come out in a cotton shirt a long grey coat and hat. Very ugly, I think. Uglier even than what I wear. Then he go up on a hansom. I rush and find a cab nearby, the cabman not ready to let a beggar. He think I want free ride. But then I show him money and he agree to let me in. I ask to follow Mr. Munro. I think he go to office but no, he go to Flea Market in Old Cardim. He get off at Hafiz Square in Old Harbor. I know the place well, I live there earlier but the route he take, even I do not know. It is a maze. He take one alley then another then a street so dark that even bat go blind. I follow him for so much time that I think it must be night. Finally he stop. I stop some way off. He show a paper to three strong tall man standing in front of shabby looking door. The building is wooden three floor tall but no window. The man let Mr. Munro in. I later find about building is. It is call Shadow Vault. Never heard of it, not know what it meant for. I hide in street and wait for Mr. Munro. He come after some time, not know exactly how much, I have no watch. Mr. Munro has a box in his hand. It is three bricks tall and three wide. Now he walk fast, too fast for my liking but still I follow him. Again he go to the Hafiz square and get a cab. I get a cab and follow him to the house. When we reach his house it is noon. I wait for him outside his house for long time but he never come out. So when it turn evening I come to this place to meet you.”
“You said Shadow Vault, didn’t you?” Maya asked thinking deeply.
“Yes Madam. Never hear of it. Don’t think it is brothel, I know them all in that area.”
Maya had a feeling that she had heard of the place before but could not exactly recollect where and what the building was meant to be.
“Thank you Banwari,” she said opening her purse, “Here are your 20 Cowries and 5 more for the cab.”
“Thank you, madam,” Banwari bowed low, “Here is a flower for you,” he said taking one crumpled marigold flower out from under his shirt and handing it Maya.
“You even steal flowers?”
“When the fingers itch,” said the beggar smiling, “they take what they touch.”
NINE
The Visitor
There was a spring in Maya’s steps as she opened the gate to Prof. Mortemius Chinew’s garden and stepped towards the door. She ran her eyes upon the three windows, still covered in the strange symbols. They had troubled her inexorably till just a few
hours ago, but now their mystery had diminished substantially. She no longer felt the burden of the case cloud her vision, the symbols no longer floated in an arcane vortex in her head, the muddy footsteps did not ring in her ears and her eyes were free from the hallucinations of faceless spirits. She felt distinctly calm and cheerful, the way she felt when she was close to the solution of a problem. The end of the dark tunnel that she was traversing was near, she could see the light of lucidity already. Most pieces were in place save one and she had a clear plan to get that missing piece as well.
Prof. Mortemius Chinew welcomed her to the house. He had exchanged his colorful robes for a well-ironed cotton shirt and trousers and was reading a thick leather-bound book which was called the “Dead Man’s Abode”.
“Hello Miss Mitchell,” said he cheerfully, “I do not see Henry with you, has he sent the 50 Cowries for me?”
“Not yet,” said Maya stepping inside the house, “but I would like to tell you that this mystery is worth much more than that.”
The professor led her to the living room, but Maya insisted on going to the study where the first symbols had sprung up. The room was locked and the professor scrounged his trouser pocket to produce the keys.
“Are you looking for these,” Maya said handing him the hoop which she had nicked yesterday evening.
The professor glared at her in bewilderment but did not question her possession of the keys. The room had not been disturbed at all during the last couple of days. Chinew’s motley collection of artifacts still lay scattered on the floor while the Armenian spirit catcher stood on the table. The window too had the symbols intact.
Maya offered the professor the only chair in the room while she paced around scrutinizing the place.
“So?” the professor said in time, “what about this mystery?”
Maya smiled.
“This mystery,” she said much more loudly than was required (so much so that the flustered professor wrung his ears to make sure that they had not malfunctioned), “is worth 100 thousand Cowries stored in three lockers in the Shadow Vault.”
The professor stared at Maya, his mouth gaping wide. “A Hundred Thousand Cowries! These symbols point to a treasure?”
“Yes, they do.”
“I tell them students all the time, spirits are good. See I have evidence now, spirits drawing symbols on windows to point me to a treasure.” He scratched his head grinning broadly, “So, would I get a part in it?”
Maya stood up and paced around the room, “Unfortunately,” she said even louder than before, “That money is no longer in Cardim. A High Guard called Michael Munro ensured that. The gentleman is already on his way to South Africa to settle down with the treasure.”
The professor’s face dropped considerably but Maya did not notice it. Her attention was drawn by sudden activity above them. Maya cocked her face up towards the ceiling of the room, pulling out a small knife which she had kept hidden in the cuff of her blouse, while the professor toppled from his chair startled from the unexpected disturbance. There was a sound of footsteps, then a grinding noise, a wooden board was pulled back and a circular hole appeared in the ceiling of the room. Through the dark hole, a rope ladder emerged along with a small diminutive man who took one step on the ladder then jumped into the room.
“Hello, Randall Williams”, said Maya brandishing the knife at the visitor.
TEN
Three Brothers
“Who is he?” shouted the professor picking himself from the floor and shifting his corpulent frame behind Maya.
“Randall Williams,” said Maya not taking her eyes off the intruder, “He is a robber who has escaped recently from the Vasco Prison.”
The professor gasped. “A robber living in my house!”
Randall Williams shifted uneasily on the floor. He was cowering in a corner, his knees huddled against his body. The man was bare-chested and clad in a khaki trouser which was covered in fine red dust. On his face, he sported a long shabby beard and his hair was disheveled and covered in grit and dirt.
“Yes,” said Maya, “And not any robber, Mr. Chinew, Randall is a man of considerable fame. He is credited with the biggest heist in Cardim’s history. You must have heard of the Bank of Cardim Robbery. Randall Williams was one of the masterminds of the robbery. He, along with his younger brother Dohorthy Williams, and elder brother Hristo Williams, in July 1875, dug an underground tunnel from a rented shop one block away from the Cahira branch of the bank to its underground lockers and made away with more than 100 Thousand Cowries in cash and jewelry. The bank owners found about the robbery only a week later and by the time an extensive manhunt was ordered for the three men, it was very late. They had escaped. For one year there was no trace of the three associates and the 100 Thousand Cowries. Then suddenly in August 1876 Dohorthy Williams, Randall’s younger brother, made an appearance to the Vasco Constabulary to turn witness and reveal the location of his brother Randall Williams in return for legal immunity. As for the loot, he claimed that it had perished along with his eldest brother Hristo, who had been trying to escape the country in The Empress of Arabia which had sunk on its way to Madagascar a few weeks earlier. Randall was found in Delhi, hiding in a Mosque as revealed by his brother and was arrested while Dohorthy escaped punishment and took up residence in South Bank. The detectives investigating the case did not initially accept Dohorthy’s theory about the loss of loot on the ship. They searched his house as well as all his known hideouts in search of some information but were unable to find any clue. However, when they interrogated Randall, he too agreed that the loot was with Hristo. Randall’s statement left no doubt in their minds that the treasure was indeed now at the bottom of the Indian Ocean. They accepted the theory and put the case to rest. But it seems now, two years later, that Dohorthy was lying after all.”
Randall scowled at the mention of Dohorthy and spat at the floor in rage.
“The money,” continued Maya, “was with Dohorthy Williams all this time. He seems to have betrayed the brothers and had hidden the loot in Shadow Vault in three separate lockers. I don’t suppose you have heard of The Shadow Vault, professor Chinew. It’s not something many people know about. Even I had to spend two hours in the crime section of the Emilia Library to find about it. The Shadow Vault is one of the most interesting institutions in Cardim. It is not your normal bank where you deposit money and valuables. In fact, the institution does not cater to commoners like you and me at all. It is meant exclusively for criminals. People who have illicit wealth or valuables to hide from police, from the government, from enemies, from family and from brothers. The Shadow Vault offers locker services to these people, secret lockers whose contents are never scrutinized. All types of things can be found in the endless lockers of the institution. I have read people hide ancient Egyptian treasures, artifacts, wills, and documents as well as dead bodies in these lockers. The existence of the organization is rather secret, and it carries on uninterrupted with the blessings of some of the most influential men in the city - council ministers and merchants, who, I am sure, too hide a part of their considerable wealth in the millions of underground lockers that the Shadow Vault maintains across Cardim.
Now, Dohorthy Williams was a clever man. It seems to me that he never intended to share the loot with his brothers. He knew that when he turned police witness and gave the detectives the story about the loss of the loot in the sea it was certain that they would not believe him and search his house as well as all his other hideouts. So he deposited the loot in three lockers in the Shadow Vault. Each locker in the bank is designated by a locker number and one specific key. Without either you cannot withdraw the contents of the locker. Just to be double sure, Dohorthy did not keep the numbers in his house in South Bank but here in this place. Do you know who owned this house before you, Sir?”
The professor shook his head, “I got it from a bank agent a few months ago. It had been mortgaged to the bank and when the loan was not returned they auctioned it. That was
the reason I got it rather cheap.”
“The original owner of this house,” said Maya, “was Johnathan Williams, grandfather of Randall, Hristo, and Dohorthy Williams. The three brothers grew up in this house. When the brothers were in hiding, Johnathan Williams had mortgaged this house to cover his medical expenses and the brothers were not aware of this. Dohorthy knew that the detectives would search his house for the loot, so he hid the locker numbers here. What I still cannot reconcile is why Dohorthy wrote the code down at all, he could have just remembered the digits. But anyway, he put the locker number somewhere in this house with the intention of claiming it when the matter subsided. Randall, on the other hand, was in jail but he was not sitting still. Though in front of the detectives he too had agreed to the theory that the loot had drowned in the sea along with Hristo so that they stopped chasing it, he obviously knew that Dohorthy had all the loot for himself. He wanted to avenge his little brother’s betrayal in any way possible. So he made a deal with Sergeant Michael Munro of the Vasco Constabulary to help him escape in return for some portion of the loot. As soon as Randall escaped, he went straight to his brother who must have told him the exact location of the locker numbers. Randall murdered the brother and set out to this house expecting it to be empty after the death of his grandfather. But he found your servant Moin here cleaning the house. Moin told him that the house had been bought by you and that you would shift here next week. Randall must have paid Moin handsomely to get access to the house asked him to stay away for some days. Your servant conveniently wrote to you that his mother had died and took his leave while Randall got into your house to search for the locker numbers. He did not know, however, that you had preponed your shifting to the house. I suppose Randall was already in the house when you came here and hearing you enter, he must have made his way to one of these secret passageways which seem to be spread all around the house in every room. On the first night that you were here, he came down with the first code to meet Munro who was out on the street. But he could not get out of the house as the room was locked. Instead, he decided to write the locker number on the window. Munro must have already known that the loot was in the Shadow Vault in three separate lockers. Three locker numbers hidden all around the house in different places which would explain why it took Randall three days to get all the three of them. Each night Randall came down and wrote the number of one of the three lockers while Munro came on the street outside to note the symbols and then extracted the money from the locker the next day. What Randall did not anticipate though is that just like his brother Dohorthy, Munro too had plans to betray him. He had planned to leave Cardim with all the money to South Africa. He had booked a ticket aboard a ship due to leave tonight.”
The Spiritualist Page 6
