The Gold Pawn

by L. A. Chandlar

  “So, at first Matthew wouldn’t tell me who else had received an envelope, but that there were a couple of others. I told him everything I could, which wasn’t much. After a few days, he contacted me again and three people who received envelopes had a meeting. One of them was Rutherford.”

  “But he was Rex’s son!” exclaimed an indignant Evelyn.

  Mr. Hambro nodded solemnly. “I know. Rutherford ended up telling us everything he could. Apparently, he had turned out to be something quite opposite to his father. And his father detested it, felt that it was a shameful weakness that his son wasn’t as, ah . . . dedicated to the cause as himself.”

  Finn piped in, “Miles had heard the same thing.”

  Mr. Kirkland spoke up, “But how did he and Matthew come into contact?”

  “Matthew said that Rutherford had started up an anonymous correspondence with him, looking for someone to help him. To hide him, actually. He’d heard about Matthew from Rex, his fight in destroying the ring of thefts in the war. Rutherford turned to Matthew in utter desperation figuring that Rex’s enemy was probably his friend. Rex had actually sent Rutherford, his son, a red envelope telling him he’d better pick a side. He and Matthew kept their friendship on the lowdown, but Rutherford gave Matthew what information he could about Rex.”

  Mr. Kirkland leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “Matthew had told me about an informant; I wondered who it could have been. It had to be Rutherford. That information is what helped us nab Rex. We had no luck whatsoever until then.”

  “Yes. In fact, Matthew is the one who picked up Rutherford’s entire family in the middle of the night and moved them away, out of the clutches of Rex. I hadn’t realized that they moved to the same town as you and your parents, Lane. Maybe Matthew thought it was easier to keep his eye on things that way.”

  “Maybe,” I said, reaching out to hold Finn’s hand. I couldn’t believe my dad was the one who had helped Tucker and Eliza’s family in that way. My mind was quickly ticking away the questions I had and the corresponding answers we had just received. And a thought struck me. “But wait, you haven’t told us the third person who received a red envelope. Who was it?”

  At this question Hambro look flustered. He hemmed and hawed, “Well . . . Ah, that is to say . . .”

  “Oh dear,” said Aunt Evelyn.

  “Louie Venetti. Uncle Louie also got a red envelope. And, uh . . . Well . . . He and Matthew and I worked together on a . . . solution.”

  CHAPTER 65

  “Damn,” I said, in appreciation. “So, Venetti was threatened by Rex, too?” I asked.

  Hambro nodded. “Yes. It seemed that Rex’s ego knew no bounds. He’d been top dog in the war, now he wanted to be top dog in the States. To do that, you have to take out the competition.”

  Thinking of that picture of my mom and dad outside the Central Park casino with Uncle Louie in their party, I asked, “So how did my parents become involved with Venetti?”

  I was ready for it, so I caught the look that went between Kirkland and Evelyn. I pounced, “So what do you two know about that?”

  “Well, Lane,” Mr. Kirkland rasped, “I didn’t know about this meeting that was happening with Rutherford, Hambro, Venetti, and your father, discussing the red envelopes. I’m not sure why he kept that quiet. But right before we nabbed Rex, Venetti, ah, well, he helped us, too. A bit.”

  “What?” I exclaimed. “You’re buddy-buddy with Venetti and you never told me?”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” he said in all seriousness. “We were never friendly. It was like using the tiger to ward off the wolf. Either one might bite your hand off—or worse—but was a necessary evil.”

  “What exactly did he help you with?” asked Finn.

  “He gave us information about Rex. With his information and what I take to be Rutherford’s, we found Rex before he could find us,” said Mr. Kirkland. “You know, Louie’s bottom line has always been about business, just like you surmised, Lane. And believe me, Rex was a threat to his business.”

  I thought about that for a second, then asked Hambro, “So why did you get together with Venetti again after all this time? You surely have many more people you could have turned to . . . ?”

  “Oh, I didn’t turn to him. He showed up on my doorstep. It was a nonnegotiable,” said Mr. Hambro with his eyebrows raised expressively high.

  I kept going, “And if Rex is dead, who sent the envelopes this time and why?”

  Aunt Evelyn took a turn. “Oh, that’s obvious. It could only be one of two people. Tucker or Donagan.”

  Finn chimed in, “And I’m certain it was to try to force out the pawn. Both of them have been after it. I guess one of them thought that he could use the old scare tactics. They were trying to raise the Red Scroll gang from the dead anyway, why not use what worked in the past?”

  Mr. Kirkland said, “I think Donagan sent the envelopes; Tucker’s approach was through, uh, Lane. The question is, now that Donagan has the pawn, what will he do with it?”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” said Mr. Hambro. “Rex was a son of a bitch—sorry again—”

  “Stop saying that,” Evelyn snapped.

  He quickly continued, “Rex didn’t leave one single penny to Rutherford. He completely disowned him. Rutherford was originally the rightful heir to not only Rex’s money, but his legacy; and no one knows who got it. If my knowledge of Rex is correct, he wouldn’t make it easy to collect. Remember, he loved to play games, to toy with people. The heir he selected would have to demonstrate loyalty and some kind of concrete evidence that the inheritance belonged to him, thus the gold pawn.”

  “And that must be who was behind Marty’s murder,” said Finn. “What happened that night?”

  “God, I still can’t believe that happened,” said Mr. Hambro, shaking his head. “I kept in touch with a very discreet employee of mine, who helps me with cases that need a delicate touch. I wanted to see what was going on in the bank during my absence. He told me about Marty and I got very concerned when I heard that he’d started asking a lot of questions. The people at the bank were not a problem, but when he started looking around outside the bank, I figure Donagan’s gang got word of it. I set up a meeting with Marty to fill him in on everything. I wanted to tell him to stop digging around, that I was on it. We met up at Union Square when suddenly a man caught us off guard from behind. I stood up and he had a gun, so I put up my hands. Before I knew what happened, he switched hands with his gun, and grabbed my own knife. My coat was open, so he could have easily seen the handle. It happened so fast, it was definitely a professional, not just a robbery. Marty didn’t even get a chance to turn around when the guy suddenly stabbed me in the shoulder, then stabbed Marty in the back and ran off. I tried to help him, but he must’ve hit his heart, because Marty was already gone.”

  Fio put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Ted.”

  “I feel so bad. I already set up a trust for his parents. He wasn’t married, but he had a sister. I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

  Finn said, “Can you identify the killer?”

  “Definitely. Give me a lineup or some mug shots. Has to be one of Donagan’s crew, this seems like his work. He’s much sloppier than Rex. Grasping at straws and running all over trying several ideas at once. Rex was patient, methodical; he’d never try something so slipshod.”

  “Good. Because we got prints off your knife that weren’t yours. We should be able to clear this up pretty fast.”

  As I pondered about all this, I caught a glimpse of the Christmas tree in the parlor, the glittering shine that spoke of childlike pleasures and colorful joy. Such a good feeling strangely mixed in with our discussion of secrets, murder, and betrayal. Finn’s hand stroked the back my head with lingering fingertips on my cheek.

  Fio said, “Well, Hambro, I think you deserve a night off. But, my friend, you have one last job to perform before you can fully put your disguises away.”

&nbs
p; Hambro nodded. “Oh yes. That’s for sure. I need to follow Donagan while I’m still invisible. Find out his next move.”

  Everyone started to slowly get up and took their cups and dishes to the kitchen counter, finishing up our evening. I stayed put, my eyes mesmerized by the fire in the fireplace. Thinking about the revealed information, putting the people and their motivations together, and taking them apart like a puzzle.

  A grim thought stole into my mind like a slithering serpent. In the midst of finishing the current mystery, an old one had been pushed to the background. And it was like an icy drip of water splashing onto my unsuspecting head. Who called for the hit on my parents? And who executed it? It could be this heir we were talking about, but there was no evidence that pointed to a specific person. Not yet. But it had to be one of them. Venetti, although his relationship with my parents made that a little less likely, but not impossible. Or Donagan. Or Tucker.

  I wondered if I’d ever really know.

  After everyone left, I slowly went up the stairs to my bedroom, weary and ready for bed. My mind mulled over the possibilities of the weeks ahead. I found my fingers itching to play the piano, an unaccustomed feeling. It took me right back to my house in Rochester.

  I walked into my soft blue room and put on a lamp, casting golden light all around. As I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and put on my pajamas, I thought about Donagan and his next move, Finn and our close call tonight, Morgan and her band of Lost Boys. I stroked the white comforter as I sat down on the edge of the bed, and the other hand gingerly felt the bandages on my side, which were beginning to itch.

  I thought about seeing who I thought was Finn in the window of that house, about to be torn to shreds from that lethal machine gun. I looked over to the other side of my bed, at the slim volume on my nightstand. The one whose words I now knew by heart. I got up and slowly walked around the foot of my bed to the other side. I picked up the beautiful book and outlined the embossed swirls with my fingertip.

  No. There was no longer any pull. No hold left. I smiled to myself, patted the book, walked over to my bookshelves, and put it away.

  CHAPTER 66

  “I became, in my own person, a creature eaten up and emptied by fever, languidly weak both in body and mind, and solely occupied by one thought: the horror of my other self.”

  Tucker tried to roll over, in utter agony of mind and body. They had somehow made it back to a hideout of Eliza’s. The bloody journey was a blur to him; only the raw, deep pain was etched into his mind. He was told that he might not make it. Several bullets had penetrated his body and he’d lost a tremendous amount of blood. Yet he somehow knew he’d survive. There was more to do. Much more.

  With a shaking hand, he stroked the cover of the slender blue volume that he’d asked Eliza to put at his side. There was a strong, magnetic pull from it and it scared him. Nothing scared him . . . except this book. Except those words. Those words that had sprung out at him as he opened the book on Lane’s nightstand—the one thing bigger than death, more terrifying than pain. He had to figure it out. He’d sought out the same edition at several bookstores and at last finally found it. The same beautiful, but disturbing copy.

  He loathed those lines that leaped out and burned him. They revealed to him something more potent than anything or anyone he’d ever faced. But those words were also the key to his survival. They became his bible. He carefully slipped the volume under his pillow, to safely hoard it and keep it close, keep it secret.

  He came to a decision. He needed to do it. An action that would counteract the power this revelation had over him. Maybe. A last-ditch effort, a desperate move. With a trembling hand propelled forward by sheer will, he painfully took up the pen and scribbled the note. A note that would change everything.

  * * *

  The crunchy white snow, the red bows on the lampposts, and the fairy lights that hung here and there were a strange contrast to his thoughts. Donagan sneered at those who enjoyed such things, his own childhood devoid of such simple pleasures. He prided himself on this utter dismissal of holidays, wearing a sort of badge of honor, as it were, that he didn’t need them, barely recognizing the time of year as any different from any other day.

  Donagan took a quick look at the swarthy face walking along next to him. The man walked along with nothing but his suit coat for winter covering, impervious to the harsh wind and cold. He expected he had either an inner fire that warded off the winter or, perhaps, was simply cold-blooded.

  “The rendezvous is just up ahead,” he said, nodding to the large banklike structure a couple of blocks away.

  His subordinate nodded in understanding. After a few more paces, he said to Donagan, “So you got the pawn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your strategy worked well.”

  “Yes, it did,” said Donagan, smiling. “I got what I wanted. Rex’s legacy is mine. I want the power, but I’ll handle it my way. All his games and shenanigans, wheeling and dealing with red envelopes, gold pawns . . . It’s tiresome. Childish. I couldn’t care less how the diabolical maniac fucked around with his empire. I just want the empire. And it’s finally mine,” he said as his fist clamped ferociously around the gold pawn.

  His comrade grunted his approval. He wasn’t made for all these complicated games, either.

  Fueled by his passion and the last hoop to go through within sight, Donagan said, “Rex was so high and mighty. Thought he was God. Honestly, how did he have time to do all that crap? For me, it’s about money and power. No games. I find a good deal? I’m in, I’m out. Done.” He snapped his fingers, the sound surprisingly loud as it ricocheted off the wet sidewalks and stone buildings. “It was hard enough working out the delivery of those damned red envelopes and then carrying out the deception on Eliza and Tucker. Can you imagine running your whole life like that?”

  His partner shook his head in full agreement. They had both been astounded at the amount of thought and precision that was needed to pull off those events. It irked Donagan to no end that he didn’t get a little more collateral damage with the car bomb. It was a Hail Mary, but he’d still hoped to kill at least one of those bastards. But at least he hit his mark. Now Tucker was out of the way and Eliza realized she was the pawn she’d always been to him, or she was dead.

  With their heated discussion and heady thoughts running through their minds, they didn’t notice the shadowy figure trailing along behind them.

  The two men came to the ancient-looking marble building that was grand yet blended into its surroundings, making it strangely invisible. They were far downtown toward the oldest part of the city. The docks were nearby, obvious from the scent of brackish water and the dampness in the air. A freezing winter fog rolled in from the river.

  They walked in the door of the impressive establishment, the golden opulence of the plush interior feeling that much more extravagant in comparison to the dank weather. They were immediately greeted by two large, somber gentlemen. They took Donagan’s coat without a word, then ushered them into a room off to the side. In any other place the colors of the room would be inviting with dark woods and deep blues, but somehow there was a lack of actual warmth. Without a single piece of personal detail, not one picture frame or throw pillow, with sharp corners to all the furniture, the atmosphere spoke of cool dealings, raw business, and a conspicuous lack of humanity.

  Donagan took it all in, desiring to emulate the feel of the place in the design of his future domain. His mind was reeling with the potential of what he could do. How he would become the next Rex Ruby. A better one. A more powerful and brutal leader who wouldn’t get caught up in juvenile games. He licked his lips in anticipation.

  A tall, bald man with cold, all-seeing eyes came into the room. He quickly and professionally shook hands with both men. He stood straighter than a pool cue. “I’ll need your identification and your authentication from Mr. Ruby.”

  Donagan took out his passport, handed it to the man, and then looked one last time at the shini
ng gold pawn in his hand, warm from his own grasp. It had become such a part of him these last days, never letting it out of his sight. He brought it to his lips, pressing it to them and smiling at the gentleman.

  “Here you go.” He placed the pawn into the man’s outstretched palm. The man took it and held it up close to his eye. He took out a jeweler’s loupe and scrutinized it for a full two minutes, which felt like an hour to Donagan.

  “Yes. It’s authentic, Mr. Connell.”

  Donagan smirked in acknowledgment, feeling a flush of pleasure.

  The bald man said, “I will go get what Mr. Rex Ruby has left to you. I shall return.” He turned on his heel and left the room, closing the double doors behind him.

  Donagan took a stroll about the room, taking in its expensive furnishings, dreaming of his own palatial residence that he’d build, a symbol to everyone of his prominence. His partner took a chair and sat, still as a statue and with just as much emotion.

  The man came back in and handed to Donagan, with the utmost care, a thin black briefcase.

  “Here you are. Good day, Mr. Connell. You may use this room as long as you like. Our business has concluded with you. When you’re finished, my associates will show you out,” he said as he nodded to the two large gentlemen now standing in the doorway that led to the lobby.

  Donagan smiled and replied, “Thank you. Perhaps we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

  The bald man pressed his lips together and nodded curtly in return. Once again, he turned on his heels with military precision and exited the room.

  Donagan looked at the black case, closed for years, its sole purpose for this very moment, to be opened by the new master. He walked carefully to the desk and placed it gingerly on top. His fingers gripped the outside of the case, his thumbs stroking the buttons that would unclasp the locks and his destiny. He pressed the mechanisms and with a satisfying click, the locks unfastened. He slowly opened the case.