by S. Robertson
Tyloar, in disbelief, stepped forward to examine the medallion. “Nat, you must be kidding. You are implying that this medallion might belong to some Egyptian pharaoh. I thought it belonged to a group of British aristocrats in the 1600s?”
“Tyloar, what I’m hypothesizing is that the workmanship and gold in this medallion could date to the 18th Dynasty of Egypt, or, and it is highly unlikely, someone at a later date was able to duplicate the same quality. Before we get caught up with this anomaly, let me draw your attention to the second.”
“Since you’re determined to challenge existing reality, go on. What else do you have up your sleeve Nat?” asked Tyloar, wondering if he was prepared for more dents in his world view.
“You will see that the design appears to be Celtic, but it could just as easily be Scythian. Now the Scythians around the time of King Tut were trading partners with the Egyptians. According to the Scottish Declaration of Arbroath of 1320, the Scythians travelled by way of Spain to Ireland. This might explain the origin of the design which is not so much Celtic as Scythian. It might also provide the Egyptian/British link.”
“I’ve never heard of the Scythian connection to the Scots,” said Jessie.
“Well, if you get a chance to dance your fingers over your Internet keyboard you will assuredly find a great deal on it,” replied Nat, not wanting to take time for a history lesson. “Now let me add another wrinkle. So far the four gemstones we’ve examined are similar to those recorded in the breastplate of the High Priest of Israel. The other four would confirm or negate my hypothesis that there may be some correlation between this medallion and the breastplate.”
“My God, what would possess you to think of that?” demanded Tyloar.
“Well, the time period and specifics about positioning stones and their protective properties. You will recall, in the book of Exodus, God gave specific instructions as to how to fashion the Breastplate of Aaron and exactly where each stone was to be placed,” said Nat as if lecturing to a group of university students. “At dinner tonight, when Wolfram commented that the medallion stones had to be reinserted in their original state, it sounded familiar.”
“I’m not up to date on the Bible, I’ll take your word for it,” said Wolfram. “But weren’t there twelve stones in Aaron’s Breastplate, and, I believe the gemstones were a square cushion cut?”
“Admittedly,” said Nat, “this medallion has nine stones, if you count the center one, and the cut is definitely different. However, if the remaining four stones are similar to those in Aaron’s breastplate then we might be looking at the Israelites as the point of origin for this medallion.”
“Interesting,” replied Wolfram, “I once read that many ancient civilizations thought the number nine symbolized a deep religious truth, and some thought it represented perfection, balance and order. The Chinese thought nine was a symbol of change. So the nine stones might have greater significance than we thought.”
“I also remember reading that nine was the symbolic number for Merlin. In numerology, nine is also considered the eternal number, the optimum number of the 360 degree ring. I’m sure there’s more,” said Angi, fascinated by the diversion.
“Let’s leave the speculation on the number nine for now. Because at this point you’ve theorized that this medallion might belong to the Sumerians, Egyptians, Scythians or Israelites. Of course we’re not forgetting Atlantis. What else? I would think that is sufficient but I see you have a puzzled look on your face, Nat?” asked Tyloar, still struggling with the ramifications of Nat’s earlier revelations.
“Until now, it was understood that the marquise cut was created at the end of the seventeenth century during the time of Louis XIV, the Sun King of France. Yet, this medallion has eight marquise sockets, meaning there are eight gemstones. We have identified four. It would be logical to argue that the gemstones and gold were created at the same time for some specific purpose, possibly religious. Someone else might argue that the stones were cut in the 1600s and placed into an existing piece of ancient jewelry. This latter argument does not hold for a number of reasons, one being that these gemstones are both old and unique. I could tell you more if I had a chance to examine them in my lab. So, it is my opinion, this medallion could originate about 1300 B.C.E… or even earlier. If true, then our history of the marquise cut needs to be revised. The Egyptians may have beaten the Europeans by centuries.”
“Is it out of the question that the ancient Egyptians were capable of creating a marquise cut?” asked Wolfram.
“No. The Egyptians had centuries to improve their craft. What we do know, is that they were capable of some fantastic achievements. Just think of the treasures found in King Tut’s tomb; the diadems, necklaces, pectorals, amulets, pendants, bracelets, earrings, and rings of superb quality and high degree of refinement which have rarely been surpassed or even equaled. I’ll leave this theorizing for now until we have more proof, but I’d stake my reputation on the fact that the medallion was created centuries before the 1600s.”
“To summarize,” said Angi, having followed Nat’s argument with rapped attention, “the medallion’s date could be much older than these beautifully engraved storage containers?”
“Right, the boxes are seventeenth century French or Italian craftsmanship, maybe even Tuscany. Wouldn’t you agree Gracelyn?”
“Yes, now that you mention it, the technique is definitely seventeenth century,” replied Gracelyn.
Nat picked up one of the small boxes and continued, “A fascinating feature of these boxes, and one you may not have noticed, is a cleverly constructed mechanical mechanism to secure the gemstones and medallion. Watch this.” He opened one of the boxes, turned it up-side-down and shook it, to the horror of the group. Nothing happened. The gem stayed securely in place. “I noted the pull of this mechanism when I returned the gemstones to their boxes. Considering the era of the construction, these were expensive purchases when you take into account the number and shape of the boxes. The workmanship and materials in these boxes alone could be worth a fortune.”
“We could be at this all night, and the hour is growing late,” interjected Wolfram. “Let’s leave these puzzles for later. What still needs our consideration is whether we should or can reinsert the gemstones into the medallion. Moira’s probability argument last night stands, without a blue print we’re stymied.”
Each member toyed with the possibilities. After a few minutes Gracelyn spoke up. “Wait, I remember an odd phrase of my great-grandmother. Before she died, she kept saying the medallion ‘will recognize its own’. Do you think that has any significance?”
Angi jumped to the challenge. “O.K, I know we’re grasping at straws, but let’s take the statement as given. Suppose we position the three gems beside the medallion and see what happens. What can we lose?”
Nat, seeing the logic, carefully removed the gems from their tiny boxes and positioned them within inches of the medallion.
The expectation was huge; the probability one in a trillion. ……….Silence engulfed the room as they sat staring at the medallion. Five minutes passed……... Then as restlessness was beginning at the end of ten minutes, Vette whispered “Look!”
The blue center stone began a pulsating rhythm of fine sparks spinning clockwise. As the spinning increased, minute sparks danced around the periphery of the stone. Before anyone had time to react, an arc of lightening shot out from the stone, engulfed the sapphire, and raising it into the air brought it down into a socket on the medallion, sealing it firmly in place. Seconds later, another arc grasped the jasper and in the same manner inserted it firmly into another slot. A third arc followed the same course retrieving the amber stone. With the fourth stone in place, half of the medallion was complete. The electrical current ceased and the stone returned to its quiet pale blue state. The electrical display left a faint burnt odor near the table.
Stunned………bewildered…….mesmerized……..speechless……the group sat frozen in their chairs. Minutes passed�
�….the clicking sound of the hall clock dominated the room……..no one moved……. unable to put into words what they had just witnessed. Nat broke the spell.
“God forbid what power this medallion possesses when all gemstones are in place. I’ve never witnessed anything like this.” Turning he stared at Tyloar, “All bets are off……I have no idea where this comes from or even if it belongs to this world. The date of origin is up for grabs.” Staring at the medallion again he went on, “Since we have begun to use gemstones for technology, is it possible our ancient ancestors knew this as well? Archeologists would disagree. Nevertheless, it seems to be an energy source. But it begs the question, for what was it built?” Thinking……. “Wouldn’t it be ironic if, in completing some cosmic cycle, we are just discovering technologies already familiar to our ancestors?” Taking a few minutes to consider his own question, he continued, “It’s no wonder this medallion has been buried for centuries. But in waking it up are we bringing peace or hell to humanity?”
The small group, who had come together as strangers, for the first time, faced the frightening magnitude of the treasure their families had protected for generations.
“Now what?” said Wolfram, still struggling with his own reactions.
Jessie reacted. “I remember something else about the awaking of the medallion. My grandmother said that if I was around when it happened, and God forbid here I stand, then the medallion must have human contact until all the stones are in place. According to her, the selection of this Guardian would be clear.”
Nat, still lost in his world of analysis, said, “Perhaps that’s due to the power source. Maybe a particular human genetic pattern can keep this dynamo stabilized. This would confirm my earlier comment that it was only the temple priests who could control the blue stones of Atlantis.”
“Good God, are we back on Atlantis,” replied Tyloar, getting somewhat testy with tiredness.
“Tyloar, forget Atlantis, we must stay focused,” said Gracelyn, and turning asked, “Jessie, have you any idea what your grandmother meant by the selection process?”
“No, she never elaborated. But let’s resort to the simplicity we used with the gemstones. Maybe if the four of us try on the medallion there might be a sign. If that doesn’t work then we’ll have to think of something else.” Jessie picked up the medallion, saying, “I’ll go first.”
Within seconds she screamed, “Take it off! It’s burning me! …..Quick, it’s burning my skin! Angi jumped up, released the clasp, and carefully removed the medallion noting the second degree burn mark on Jessie’s neck. Gracelyn scurried off for ointment.
“Well, that’s definite,” said Moira. “I’ll go next.”
Moira and Gracelyn had identical reactions. The three then turned to Angi, the final test candidate.
Fastening the clasp, Angi waited for the expected burning thinking “It can’t be me. I’m overdue for a different test. It’s likely someone in Britain.” Instead of a burning sensation, Angi was jolted by a bolt of nausea, followed by a blinding light, and then oblivion. Wolfram and Vette jumped to cushion her fall.
* * *
Boston, Rosie’s Bar and Grill
Waiting for a predator to attack is nerve racking. Fred and Gritty calculated Antonino had to make his move, and soon, the unknowns were when and how.
Bodyguard routine was becoming second-nature. Fred nodded to Gritty as he passed, acknowledging the end of his shift. Reorganizing his car for the long hours ahead, Fred contemplated the situation, “This case is like babysitting two unpredictable children. Morgan is still not convinced he’s a target, and Kari-Ann keeps dancing to her own drummer; a troubling mix. Routine security work is looking better all the time.” After several weeks he had created a well organized field office, equipped with the latest electronic gadgets.
At 7:30 in the evening he lazily watched Kari-Ann back her car down the driveway. “There goes Goldilocks, off to Rosie’s. What a light-weight……. nearly forty and still no idea what she wants to do in life …….totally self absorbed……..it’s good she never had kids. She’s a poster child for what ails our society; too much money and not enough responsibility. This fun brigade marches on singing and dancing.” As the car slid past, he did not know what possessed him to take a second glance, but when he did he saw Morgan pull himself upright on the passenger side of the front seat.
“Morgan, you are a stupid, God-damn imbecile!” Fred yelled. As he ignited the engine and swung the car into position to follow, he pressed his car speakerphone to contact Gritty.
Gritty responded on the first ring, “What’s up?”
“Morgan, against all sanity, has just left with Kari-Ann. I expect their heading to Rosie’s. I’m in pursuit. I’ll keep the line open. We suspected as much, but hoped for better.”
“I’m on my way. Since I’m closer, I’ll get there before them. Antonino’s snagged her. She’s a perfect pawn.”
The one advantage Fred had was that neither Kari-Ann nor Morgan bothered to check to see if they were being followed. Kari-Ann was absorbed in the bright lights which lay ahead while Morgan was convinced this was his last act before contacting his lawyer.
Kari-Ann, parking the car at the rear of the restaurant, selected a table for four near the entrance for quick recognition. Being a weekday night, the place was busy but not overly crowded. Morgan ordered drinks while they waited for Tony Moretti, Antonino’s Boston alias.
Gritty, preceding them used the employee entrance at the rear. Finding a table near a large plant he waited as, he thought, it was imperative that Antonino appeared before exposing his hand. There was the remote possibility that this was an innocent outing not needing rough intervention.
But within fifteen minutes Antonino appeared, in slight disguise. Recognizing Kari-Ann he headed right for their table. Gritty was close enough to see the slimy grin on his face as he shook hands with Morgan. “Now I have to act,” he said to himself. Bringing out a couple of crisp bills to seal his intended negotiations, he signaled a waiter
Before Tony, Kari-Ann and Morgan had time to settle, a male waiter appeared looking at Morgan, “Sir, I’m terribly sorry, could you talk to the manager over there. It’s about your credit card.”
Reacting, Morgan exploded. “Damn it, Kari-Ann have you maxed out all our credit cards?” Angry and embarrassed, Morgan got up and followed the waiter saying, “I’m sorry, Tony, I’ll be right back.”
As he reached the counter, a firm hand grabbed him from the side and pulled him around the corner. Gritty, red with fury, whispered loudly, “Look at this photo you idiot!” pressing Antonino’s photo into Morgan’s face. “Does that look familiar? ……….. You have just shaken hands with the devil.”
Fear engulfed Morgan, “Christ……….Kari-Ann has delivered me to my doom. God, I must be the biggest idiot in Boston.”
“Let’s not get into measuring your stupidity. What the hell were you thinking? I do recall saying ‘anything out of the ordinary’. Did she drug you or use sex to get you into this mess? You are now in deep shit and I have to bail you out.”
“I can’t go back there,” replied Morgan in a panic.
“Listen to me! You will go back and you’ll do exactly what I say, or so help me, I’ll do you in myself. We can’t call in the police as, at this stage, it’s only our suspicion that he orchestrated those other killings. I have no doubt he’s guilty and you’ll be the next corpse if you don’t obey my instructions.” Gritty phoned Fred who was parked outside. “Antonino’s here and Morgan knows it. So, we’ll go with the plan we concocted earlier.”
Giving Morgan orders he went on, “You get back to that table. I haven’t got time for details just do exactly as Fred says. I’m working on the premise that Antonino doesn’t know Fred, but he might have fingered me at the university.”
Stiff legged, Morgan returned to the table.
“Is everything OK?” asked Tony, appearing interested in his victim’s welfare.
“Sure, everyt
hing’s fine,” replied Morgan, relaxed as he could be under the circumstances, “another card worked.”
Within minutes of Tony ordering a drink, Fred barged through the restaurant door heading right for their table.
“There you are, you pipsqueak!” said Fred in a loud voice, aiming his remarks at Morgan. “You promised me you’d complete that report tonight so I would have it first thing tomorrow morning. I arrived at your place to deliver some more info just to see you drive off with your wife. I followed you here to find you living it up with your friends and will likely be too drunk to even look at a computer when you get home.” Gripping Morgan firmly by the shoulder he continued, “Sorry, folks this report is critical to my survival. This guy’s coming with me. These are bad economic times and I have a wife and three kids to feed.” Roughly steering Morgan towards the door he went on, “Come on, you can party tomorrow.”
While Fred was in full performance, Gritty snuck closer and took a number of photos of Antonino.
Antonino wasn’t sure. “Was this an act? It’s all feasible but still, why do I feel like I’m the victim.” Looking at the confused expression on Kari-Ann’s face he realized whatever just happened she wasn’t party to it. “I can’t lose this perfect stooge. Maybe I’ll slip away…….give me time to think. If it’s legitimate, then I can set this up again. If not, it means the police could be closing in. I still need the name of whoever contracted Morgan for this medallion research. Kari-Ann may know more than she thinks.” Standing up, speaking softly, he said, “Kari-Ann, perhaps, we could leave this for another time. There’s no rush. I’ll be in touch.” With that he turned and made a b-line for the exit.
Kari-Ann, dazed at the unexpected outcome to her well-planned evening sat forlorn, unable to sip her drink. “What was that black bodyguard doing here, she lamented. What’s this about a report…….he’s not at the university.” Depressed, she picked up her bag and dragged herself to the door.
