“I’ve asked the chef to make some extra, now that Ben and Juliet have arrived.”
“Appreciate it.” Ben smiled, the one ray of light in the darkness. He turned to Hammitt, then Colts. “Well, seeing as we’re not going anywhere, why don’t you tell me everything?”
*
All the signs pointed to Tresco. Colts had had enough time to read the recently recovered diary pages in full. TF had buried everything there.
Everything.
They set off in Colts’s cabin cruiser after refilling its tank in the harbour, with all of them, except Danny and Hammitt, on board.
Tresco was the one major island Ben was still to visit. From what he had been told, it was the second largest both in population and size with a total of 175 permanent residents and 297 hectares of ground. Approaching from the west, its appeal became obvious. The rugged outcrops that typified the north coast and the endless shell beaches presented an image of a near unspoilt paradise.
They landed at New Grimsby, a small settlement on the west coast, where they docked among an impressive collection of similar vessels; Chris helped Colts secure the boat before disembarking.
“Where exactly are we headed?” Ben asked, studying the seafront. Up on the local hillside, several quaint houses overlooked the coastline, their exteriors partially hidden by colourful gardens. At Old Grimsby, east of New, the citizens of the older settlement carried out their daily chores in relaxed moods, while north of the two hamlets, the ruined walls of the King Charles Castle and Cromwell’s Castle were being visited by small groups of holidaymakers enjoying an afternoon discovering the area’s history.
“South,” Colts replied, first out on to the sandy beach, grateful they had arrived during school time. Fortunately there were no great crowds to witness their arrival. “The only clue we have is that it has something to do with the Abbey Gardens.”
“In that case I suggest you hand over the diary.”
*
Dominic Velázquez leered discreetly at the younger of his two visitors who had recently arrived in his scholarly office. One of the two he remembered from having attended her wedding.
The older of the two was unknown to him.
The information he was receiving was intriguing, yet not exactly a surprise. He had heard a rumour years earlier that apparently confirmed similar reports.
An account that was potentially newsworthy.
Putting on his most charming smile, he concentrated his attention on the younger of the two. If what he was hearing was correct, the decision he was about to make could be of great consequence.
43
Ben took his time studying Colts’s translations of the codex before comparing what he saw to the rediscovered diary pages. It was obvious from the handwriting and the texture of the paper that the ripped-out pages had once formed part of the same leather-bound, silt-encrusted tome he now viewed as a family treasure.
The codex was strange, unique. Though it was clear to him that TF had written the final passage and discovered three of the Cortés emeralds, it was less clear what he had done with them. The writing differed to his previous prose; it was similarly poetic to the codex’s earlier passages, less personal than his diary. The codex offered few clues as to what he had done with the pieces.
Only that he seemed to have taken them to Tresco.
Leaving the boat, they took a long walk through the greenery to the island’s most famous location, Tresco Abbey Gardens, in the southern part of the island, away from the main settlements. According to tradition, the seventeen-acre estate had been erected as a private sanctuary for the former leaseholder, Augustus Smith, on land that had once belonged to the church.
The monastery had fallen into disrepair centuries ago; thanks to Colts, Ben was now familiar with its history. The original Benedictine abbey had been founded in 964 AD, before being extended by monks from Tavistock Abbey in the early 1100s, who created the Priory of St Nicholas in devotion to the patron saint of mariners after being granted the land by Henry I. When the property at Tavistock was lost during the Dissolution of the Monasteries, the land on Tresco passed to the Crown.
The modern building didn’t look like an abbey. Instead, the nineteenth-century, grade-II-listed mansion, located less than a hundred metres away, was primarily of coursed granite construction topped off by a sloping slate roof. The nearby tower had been added just prior to the turn of the last century.
Ben sat quietly on a wooden bench located off a pathway at the heart of the gardens and began to reread the recently rediscovered diary entries.
TF had briefly possessed all of the lost replica emeralds. The rose had been discovered beneath the Star Castle in the same place Ben later found it himself. The same was true of the fish stone at the mausoleum, concealed behind the wall. The bell – that Ben had obtained courtesy of Kernow – TF had apparently found located within the bell tower at St Lide’s in a niche that also contained relics connected to the island’s founder. The trumpet, intriguingly, had been given to him by a woman on St Agnes, apparently in response to his kindness to her.
The learned gentleman had entrusted the Devil’s Cup to him freely.
The missing days had been spent in England. After obtaining the five stones between the evening of 7 April and the early hours of 8 April, he was granted passage on a postal ship and disembarked at Penzance around midnight. A coach at dawn then took him to Godolphin, at that time the seat of the Duke of Leeds.
His request to enter the mine by honest means was denied.
He stayed the night at the pub on the crossroads, in the company of several locals. It was obvious from TF’s recollection that he had learned enough from his experiences on St Lide’s to ensure past mistakes of asking too many questions were avoided. 10 April passed quietly; the Duke was witnessed taking tea on the lawn, along with several guests. On the 11th, the family took leave of the estate, apparently to return north. TF had clearly refused to let the opportunity go to waste. After making his way into the heart of the estate, he came across the Raleigh statue in the local woodland. Assisted by two locals, he descended the same ladder Ben had found in the ventilation shaft, and followed the railway tracks into the heart of the mine.
After inserting the replica stones, the door opened.
The mystery of the lost hoard had been solved.
Ben couldn’t believe what he was reading. The missing pages confirmed his suspicions that the hoard had been discovered. The way was resealed, the gold left untouched. Ben read how his ancestor had wrestled strenuously with the temptation to take away samples, but decided against it; the fact that the hoard was located on private land weighed heavily on his conscience.
He returned to St Mary’s the next day.
Shuffling the rediscovered pages, Ben took his time digesting the facts. The more he read, the more he found himself attempting to fill in the gaps of an epic story, one he had begun to follow as a child. Despite the hardship, his grandmother had always tried to tell it positively; he loved her all the more because of it. In reality, he now knew the ending was very different. The story had not ended happily. Within twenty-four hours of writing his final entry, TF was dead.
Taking a breath, he concentrated on the final entry a second time.
Having again been offered safe passage by the captain of the Jason, I must admit having returned to Penzance at such a late hour I was little deserving of such good fortune, albeit in much need, I took up my position on the deck in the company of the first mate. Unlike my recent passage back to the mainland amongst the company of the postage labourers, it was made instantly clear to me that travelling overnight on a private vessel would be much different to my relaxing experience on the trawlers. The captain, to his great credit, confirmed with radical bluntness what was to be expected, and after a night toiling on the decks, it was with great joy I witnessed the sight of St Mary’s harbour appearing with the sunrise.
Having returned to my place of lodgings, such was the lateness of
the hour it was with much regret I had missed the learned gentleman who has been such a loyal friend to me throughout my time on the Isles, and, having avoided the urge to rest my tired body, I set off to find him. Having failed to locate the learned gentleman in any of the local taverns, I wondered whether better luck might be had in the town. Having exhausted all the expected possibilities, I discovered him in the church at Old Town, a fortuitous coincidence, as the location was one of many that required my attention in order to undertake the necessary tasks that still awaited completion.
Having had the opportunity to discuss matters frankly, it was mutually agreed that the purpose of our being stationed here was fast approaching a necessary, albeit complicated, conclusion. With the location of the lost hoard at last known to us, proof of which I have now seen with my own eyes, it was also agreed that the time had come to divert our attention to other important considerations, most notably that of the ancient city, which, after having also had the recent pleasure of witnessing first-hand, I now firmly believe to be the source of the original story. The gold in Cornwall, I genuinely believe will be safe now; its location I intend to reveal to our superiors the moment we return to London. Having discussed this matter again with the learned gentleman, it has been agreed the replica stones will be returned to their rightful locations, starting with the cup at the inn and the fish at the mausoleum. The trumpet, received most graciously from the mother of young Sam, I intend to return to her and its native island, along with that once taken from the bell tower.
Ben noticed the text broke off, and a final entry, dated several hours later, ended the diary.
Having completed my task with the cup, rose and fish stones, all three of which have now been safely returned to their original locations, I took the Dunster to the island of Tresco in response to an invitation to have an audience with the learned governor, who, unlike many among the Isles, has been of great support for me since my arrival.
Having had the rare opportunity to discuss many important things with him, I was most pleased our meeting ended amicably and with good news. With my earlier problem now largely settled, another awaited regarding the lost city itself. Having had much success in recent months attempting to track down the original trinkets, I remain sorry to say that little luck has been granted me since my discovery of the three during my trip to the continent the previous autumn. For my failure here, only one such person can be held accountable, just as the same is true of many other shortcomings. The location of the other two remain a mystery; both of which I hope to solve on my return to England. On the advice of the governor and the learned Foxdog, I have decided the time has come to part with what I have uncovered. Here it will be safe. Watched over by friendly eyes and away from evil ones.
Having had the opportunity to walk the blessed gardens once trodden by the monks of old, I have chosen a position I know others will never stumble upon by chance. Its instructions I leave only to those whose ability to recover them can be deemed beneficial. Should anything happen to me, I leave this as a reminder. For one who begins his journey beneath the ruined arch, they should take precisely one hundred and ten paces north with no spaces. There will end the journey.
So also ended the text.
*
Colts emerged through the nearby archway, walking with great purpose. He found Ben seated in the same place.
Not for the first time, he had a curious expression on his face.
“By now I’m guessing you’re aware of the great problems we face.”
Ben rose to his feet. “The emeralds were buried one hundred and ten paces north of a ruined archway.” He approached the one Colts had just walked through. The iconic, lancet design remained intact, despite the surrounding stonework being overrun by wild greenery. “I’m guessing this is the one.”
“I’m guessing so too. Unfortunately if it is, it leaves us with a pretty big problem.”
“What?”
Colts led Ben through the archway and continued north through an area of thick woodland. Ben counted his footsteps as he walked, ensuring he left no extra spaces. Emerging beyond the trees, he saw Chris and Juliet in animated discussion on a grassy area.
Overlooking a large pool of water.
*
Kernow arrived forty-five minutes later, after receiving the call from Ben. Colts was the first to see him emerge from the abbey woodland, dressed in his usual elderly Levis and a bright blue pullover.
He had with him two large carryalls.
“Did you bring them?” Colts asked.
“Gonna require a second trip if he hasn’t,” Ben added.
Kernow put the bags down and opened them. “Afraid this is the best I could do at such short notice.” He removed two custom-made dry suits and scuba tanks from the smaller of the two carryalls and a Garrett Sea Hunter Mark II underwater metal detector from the other. “The largest suit belongs to my eldest. These days I get my own made to measure.”
Ben was more interested in the Garrett than the suit. “You detect underwater often?”
“More of a hobby these days when the old knee isn’t giving me jip. Comes in mighty handy when you’re out searching for wrecks.” He measured the suits against Ben’s toned frame. “Other one might be a better fit for you.”
“Fortunately it’s Chris who’s the professional of the family.”
Kernow turned to Chris. At six feet two, he had more than five inches on Kernow, but only a few millimetres over his son. “Ah, well, that’s all right then.” He handed Chris the suit. “Think this will do?”
“As long as the rod doesn’t attract lightning, I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
“No luck so far; not that I go out much in the storms. Want my advice. Don’t try it.”
Chris grinned as he started getting suited up. “I’ll be sure to bear it in mind.”
*
Eduardo waited until his uncle was strapped in before taking off. After vomiting a second time, he felt sufficiently recovered from the recent stench of decaying flesh to pilot the chopper.
He watched his uncle from the controls, now flying at three thousand feet. Unlike before, Juan was distant.
“You’re really not going to tell anybody about what we saw?”
Juan let out a tired sigh. “What do you suggest I do? Inform New Scotland Yard they have a mass murder on their hands, that there were unfortunately no survivors.” He laughed without humour. “Trust me. Those who matter already know. Those who don’t know don’t matter.” He looked his nephew directly in the eye, his expression so serious his eyes were bulging in his sockets. “You just fly. Concentrate on landing us safely. Later we can worry about the rest.”
“Where do you want to head?”
“Fernando’s yacht is still moored off the island of Tresco. I suggest we return there. At least we will have the promise of a warm shower.”
44
Chris couldn’t have wished for a better pool of water to dive into. His initial fear that visibility might be a problem was dispelled the moment he put his head underwater. According to Kernow and Colts, the Great Pool had been designated an area of special scientific interest due to its importance to the island’s birdlife and was the largest source of freshwater anywhere on the Isles. On busy days, swarms of nature lovers would descend on the area to enjoy the peaceful scenery.
Today, thankfully, there were no such crowds.
Ben had counted precisely eighty-seven steps to the water’s edge, which left an equally precise twenty-three if the diary pages were to be taken literally. How exactly TF had counted that many was a mystery. Colts suggested he had taken a raft out on the water and dropped it. Ben had another suggestion.
According to his grandmother, TF’s famous heavy diving suit had never been found.
Chris’s suit was far too light to be able to walk beneath the surface. He managed to get to ninety-two steps before the force of the ancient pool tipped him off balance, forcing him to swim.
Everything was worki
ng perfectly; the metal detector bleeped a consistent pattern through his waterproof headphones that Kernow had rigged up to the comms inside his facemask. Following Kernow’s advice, he kept close to the bottom, holding the detector at arm’s length.
If Kernow was right, it would identify anything with even the slightest hint of metal.
*
Kernow was standing on the shoreline, wearing a heavy set of headphones. Other than one response from Chris, the only voice he was hearing was Ben’s.
“How’s he doing?”
“No response yet.” He looked at Ben. “Chris, everything okay down there?”
Chris replied, “Fine. Visibility is fast diminishing though. Good thing we’ve got this detector.”
“It’s what it’s there for. Any sounds so far?”
Chris swept the area in front of him like a human windshield wiper, the bleeps continuing.
“Nothing of value. Will try extending the search.”
*
Juliet had remained quiet since Chris disappeared beneath the water. Occasional bubbles continued to rise to the surface, giving a reassuring sign that he was still breathing.
She spoke to Ben as he paced along the shoreline. “I hope you know what you’re doing here. You honestly think you can just show up somewhere, borrow a suit and go diving without permission? This is private land.”
Ben was relaxed. “Be a lot more difficult if I didn’t show up. As I told you before, Colts is employed by the Duchy and said he’s worked here before. Apparently it’s called the Great Pool.”
Juliet huffed, her hair moving as she blew outwards. Though the pool was a quaint area of unspoilt beauty, the water was dark, murky.
The Cortés Trilogy: Enigma Revenge Revelation Page 93
