‘That was awesome!’
Gerald untangled himself from a knot of arms and legs then looked around. ‘Where’s Sam?’
‘Dunno. I heard him crash.’
They found Sam flat on his back halfway up the stairs to the upper deck. His head was on the bottom step, his feet above him.
‘Well, that was interesting,’ he mumbled.
Ruby grabbed her brother by the shoulders and pulled him upright. ‘How good was that!’ she said. She turned to Gerald. ‘Can we do it again?’
‘I don’t think the captain’s going to go around again just for us,’ Sam said.
A look of confidence spread across Gerald’s face. ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘It’s my plane.’ He strode to the cockpit.
Fifteen minutes later Gerald, Sam and Ruby were lined up on the trays, ready for another takeoff.
This time the three of them made it to the end of the main cabin a jumble of giggles and laughter. Mr Fry appeared and Gerald, Sam and Ruby sheepishly handed over their trays and helmets.
‘Lunch will be served in two hours,’ he said, as if announcing a death in the family. ‘Unless you decide to take a detour via Disneyland, in which case it will be much later.’ He trudged back to the galley.
‘Is Mr Fry married?’ Ruby asked.
‘Don’t think so,’ Gerald said. ‘Can’t imagine anyone volunteering to spend any time with him.’
‘I think we should find him a girlfriend,’ she said. ‘To cheer him up.’
Sam smirked. ‘And who’s going to cheer her up?’
They wandered into the cinema room, piling their arms with chips and soft drinks from the bar.
They each dived into a leather lounge.
‘How long’s it take to get to Delhi anyway?’ Sam asked, clicking a remote at the enormous flat-screen television. A program guide flashed up.
‘About nine hours, I think,’ Ruby said.
‘Time to catch a couple of movies then,’ Sam said. ‘What do you feel like? Action? Comedy?’ Images filled the screen as he scrolled through the offerings from the plane’s library of films. ‘Look. Here’s that new war film, Grunt Once Then Die. What do you think?’
Ruby tore open a chip packet and stuffed a few into her mouth. ‘Yuck! Too violent. Isn’t there something where people’s heads don’t get blown off? How about that new vampire movie?’
Sam reached over and took some chips from his sister. ‘Oh sure, killing soldiers in a war zone is offensive. But sink your teeth into someone’s jugular and suck out their entire blood supply? That’s the height of romance and sophistication.’
Gerald sipped on his drink and grinned. He loved it when Sam and Ruby got going.
‘What do you think, Gerald?’ Sam said. ‘Gritty war movie or soppy love story? Gore-fest or bore-fest? Your choice.’
‘How about a horror movie,’ Gerald said. ‘That way you get a bit of both.’
Ruby snatched the remote from her brother. ‘You’re always compromising, Gerald. You need to be more assertive.’ She stabbed at the buttons and the screen flashed with a rapid series of movie images. ‘How did you get to be so indecisive anyway?’
Ruby stopped flicking at an extreme close-up of a woman’s face. Every pore, pimple and facial hair stood out in massive high definition.
‘Yow!’ Sam cried. ‘That’s hideous. What slasher movie is this?’
Gerald’s eyes popped. ‘That’s my mother.’
The face on the screen pulled back and Gerald’s mother Vi Wilkins settled into an armchair in a fashionably decorated lounge room.
‘Your mother?’ Sam said. ‘Why’s she starring in a horror film?’
Ruby leaned across and clipped her brother over the back of his head. ‘It’s a videophone, moron,’ she hissed.
‘Hello, Gerald? Gerald? Can you hear me?’ Vi’s voice filled the cabin. ‘I can see you but I can’t hear you. Can you see me, my darling boy?’
Gerald sat open-mouthed but mute. He’d spoken a few times to his parents on the phone since they’d abandoned him at the start of the summer. But he hadn’t seen them. The weeks spent cruising the Caribbean on the Archer yacht had turned his mother’s skin a glossy brown and her helmet of blonde hair had been coiffed into a creation from a fashion magazine. But there was something else. Gerald couldn’t pick it. Then it dawned on him.
‘Mum. Have you had Botox?’
Vi lifted her chin and pulled back the corners of her mouth in an attempt at a smile. Her face barely moved.
‘It makes me look twenty years younger, don’t you think?’
Gerald thought it made her head look like a waxed apple.
‘Um, yeah. It looks…really natural,’ Gerald said, mortified. ‘Where are you?’
‘We’re at the Archer compound on Martha’s Vineyard, darling. The heat in the Caribbean was a little too much for your father, even with the outdoor air conditioning. I thought he might be more comfortable here.’
Sam leaned across and whispered in Gerald’s ear, ‘You wouldn’t want to risk melting.’ Gerald tried not to giggle.
‘What’s at this Martha’s place?’ he asked.
‘This Martha’s place?’ His mother rocked back and laughed. ‘Gerald, you are too too gauche, my darling. Martha’s Vineyard—all the right people come here. To be anywhere else in the summer would be terribly infra dig. There’s the Lodges and the Cabots, of course. And the Rockefellers and the Carnegies. Geraldine has a simply enormous place here, right on the water—but of course it’s your place now, sweetie. Everyone’s dying to meet you. We’ll come back next summer and stay a few months, I think. The weather here is much kinder to your father.’
Vi took an almighty breath and beamed into the videophone. ‘Who are your friends, dear?’ she asked. ‘Introduce me.’
Gerald was glad for the break in his mother’s monologue. ‘This is Sam and Ruby Valentine. They’re coming to India with me.’
‘So glad you’re making friends and keeping busy. Hello there,’ Vi said, again attempting a smile.
Ruby and Sam waved at the screen. ‘Hi,’ they chorused.
‘You take good care of my Gerald won’t you,’ Vi said. ‘He’s my little soldier.’
Sam bit his bottom lip. ‘He’s a very brave little soldier, Mrs Wilkins. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine with us.’
Gerald glanced sideways at Sam, who had wisely shuffled out of striking range.
‘Anyway, Gerald. I was just calling to say hello,’ Vi said. ‘We’re off to the Cabots’ for brunch in a few hours and I have to put my face on.’
Sam opened his mouth to say something but a death stare from Ruby shut him down.
Before his mother could end the call, Gerald spoke up. ‘Mum, did you hear about Sir Mason Green? And our family tree?’
Vi sucked on her lips. ‘Mr Prisk told me about it. What a frightful chap Sir Mason turned out to be. A Knight Grand Cross of the Order of Saint Michael and Saint George! There was a time when that stood for something. Why he’d be interested in us is beyond me. Very disappointing. And speaking of disappointing, I’m none too impressed with our Mr Prisk at the moment either.’
Gerald blinked. His mother was being particularly random. ‘What’s wrong with Mr Prisk?’
Vi sniffed. ‘The enormous pile of correspondence and paperwork he expects me to go through. It eats right into my day.’
Gerald couldn’t hide the smile spreading across his face. ‘That sounds terrible.’
‘And here’s a surprise for you. All this talk about family and I almost forgot. Have a look at this.’ Vi hauled herself out of the armchair and bent down to poke through a document box on the floor. Sam had to hold back a laugh as the videophone’s automatic camera adjusted to give a close-up of Vi’s backside.
She sat down with an envelope in her hand.
‘What’s that?’ Gerald asked.
‘It’s a letter from Great Aunt Geraldine.’
There was a hollow silence in the aircraft as this announcement
bounced off the walls.
‘But,’ Gerald began, ‘she’s dead.’
Vi emitted a shrill laugh. ‘Of course she’s dead, Gerald. I’d hardly be kicking back in magnificent luxury on Martha’s Vineyard if the old bat was still alive!’
Gerald’s mother had embraced the billionaire lifestyle with more gusto than he had. She pulled a sheet of paper from the envelope. Gerald noticed a splodge of red wax on the back.
‘It’s dated a week before she died,’ Vi said. ‘Written but not mailed. There’s the usual blather about how you are and whether you’re growing into a trustworthy young man. I swear, she was obsessed about your honesty. She seemed to think we hadn’t brought you up right.’
‘I can imagine,’ Gerald mumbled.
Vi ploughed on. ‘Here it is. There’s some fluff about how important family is—blah, blah, love, respect, blither, blather—and then she says: if Gerald ever has any questions about any of his family history then he should seek out the seven sisters.’
‘Seven sisters?’
Vi nodded. ‘No idea what she’s on about. No one in the family has seven sisters. Maybe on your father’s side? But then his lot didn’t provide us with our little windfall, did they? So they’re hardly worth worrying about.’
Gerald sat back into the lounge. Seven sisters? What did Geraldine mean? His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of his mother blowing him a kiss.
‘Lovely chatting with you, my darling, but must away. So much to do. Ta ta for now.’
Vi’s face dissolved into static, then The Bride of Frankenstein started screening.
Ruby plopped down on the couch next to Gerald.
‘So, how did you get to be so indecisive?’
Gerald shook his head. ‘She casts a big shadow, doesn’t she.’ He took a deep breath and sighed. ‘I thought she might be more concerned about Green and our family tree though.’
‘Gerald, you’ve got to stop worrying about Mason Green,’ Ruby said, giving his knee a pat. ‘None of those paths on the map in Green’s room went anywhere near India. There’s nothing to worry about.’
Gerald picked up the remote and switched to a music video.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘There’s more than a billion people in India. What are the odds of running into Mason Green there?’
Chapter 5
An old black and white detective movie flickered on the big screen. Sam and Ruby were sprawled across the lounge, only half watching it. Gerald sat on the floor, putting the finishing touches to a sketch of Mr Fry dressed as a French maid complete with frilly apron and a long-handled feather duster.
‘You’re very good, you know,’ Ruby laughed. ‘You should frame that one.’
Gerald studied the drawing. ‘Don’t think Mr Fry is going to make an offer for it, somehow.’ He flipped the page and started a sketch of the Valentine twins. ‘So,’ he said, his pencil darting across the paper, ‘I wonder what’s in the other caskets.’
Ruby glanced at him. ‘I thought we weren’t going to worry about Mason Green anymore.’
‘I’m not, I’m not,’ Gerald said. ‘I was just thinking about the Green Room and that stuff on his desk. That’s all.’
‘H-hmm.’ She didn’t sound convinced.
Gerald glanced up at the screen. ‘These old detective movies are hilarious,’ he said. ‘Everyone talks a million miles an hour.’
A man in a trench coat stood in an office, barking orders at a secretary.
‘Maybe I should start treating Ruby like that,’ Sam said.
‘Only if you enjoy major blood loss,’ she said. ‘What’s he doing now?’
The man on the screen had picked up a notepad from a desk and was shading a blank page with a pencil. After a few strokes, a telephone number appeared.
‘That’s clever,’ Sam said. ‘The guy they’re chasing must have written the number down and torn off the top page—there’s the impression on the one underneath.’
Gerald stopped drawing.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ruby asked.
He dropped his sketchpad and dragged his backpack from under the couch. He fished inside and found the three envelopes he’d taken from Green’s desk.
He laid them flat on the cabin floor.
‘Surely you don’t think…’ Ruby said.
Gerald shrugged. ‘Worth a try. Green could have written something on top of these.’
He took his pencil case and found a piece of drawing charcoal. He laid it flat on the envelope marked Family Tree and rubbed across the surface—leaving a plain black smear.
‘Nope,’ he muttered, then picked up the envelope marked Fraternity. He repeated the shading and this time the faint outline of some letters appeared.
‘Hello,’ Gerald said. ‘Look at this.’
Sam leaned in. ‘Mama la ram,’ he read.
‘French, maybe?’ Ruby suggested.
‘For what?’ Sam said. ‘A confused male sheep?’
Ruby screwed up her face at him.
Gerald shaded across the final envelope with the random string of symbols on it but nothing showed up.
‘What do those symbols mean?’ Ruby said.
‘No idea,’ Gerald said. ‘So we’ve got some gibberish and a ram called Mama.’
Ruby picked up the remote and changed channels. ‘Can’t believe everything you see in the movies.’
Mr Fry announced that they would land in forty minutes, then disappeared back to the galley.
‘I’m looking forward to this,’ Gerald said, tucking his pad and pencils into his backpack.
‘The whole country’s meant to be amazing,’ Ruby said. She thumbed through a travel guide, full of photographs of ancient cities and temples. ‘The south was hit by the tsunami a few years ago but it looks like everything’s back to normal. Can you believe it? A billion people.’
‘Do you think Alisha will be at the airport?’ Sam asked.
‘And from today, a billion people plus one moron,’ Ruby said, shaking her head. ‘Sam, get over it, will you? Alisha Gupta won’t even remember your name. You are but road kill on her motorway through life. You are a pimple on the bottom of—’
‘Go easy,’ Gerald interrupted. ‘Let a man have his dream.’ Sam gazed out a window into the midnight blackness somewhere over the Himalayas.
‘Pfft,’ said Ruby. She leafed through the travel guide. ‘Hey, here’s something that could be handy,’ she said to Gerald.
‘What’s that?’
‘It says here that ancient mystics used to recite a secret mantra to bring the dead back to life.’ She looked across to Sam as he gazed love-struck through the window. ‘Wonder if it works on the brain dead as well?’
The jet made a rattling landing and taxied to a terminal building, taking a space by an air bridge.
They were greeted by an airport official who led them into a sparsely furnished VIP lounge. At one end of the room a customs officer in an ill-fitting shirt sat behind a bare wooden table. The officer inspected their passports and stamped each in turn. Mr Fry had everyone’s luggage on a cart and they followed him to the doorway.
‘Keep close,’ he said to Gerald, Sam and Ruby. ‘I’d hate to lose you in the crowd.’
Sam glanced at his watch. ‘It’s past midnight,’ he yawned. ‘Who’s going to be out this late?’
The doors slid apart and a wave of hot air rolled through the gap. It curled up and over the air-conditioned coolness and dumped on top of them, squeezing gasps of surprise from their lungs. They stepped into chaos. There were people everywhere; a jostling mass of bodies at the doorstep to a new world.
The temperature was incredible. Even beyond midnight, it must have been thirty-five degrees or more. Heat radiated up from the ground, chewing through the soles of their shoes. It was impossible to tell where the warmth of the night ended and the heat of the crowd began.
Gerald stood in awe. Hundreds of people filled the area outside the airport building. There were people arriving and leaving, taxis
and cars delivering and collecting, bags being dumped and carted. The queue at the taxi rank snaked across the concourse.
‘What do we do now?’ Ruby asked.
‘We’re supposed to be met by Archer Corporation’s in-country agent,’ Mr Fry said, a little testily. ‘He ought to be here to take us to the Gupta compound.’
In the crush of activity that surrounded them there was no sign of any waiting driver.
‘Do you know what the agent looks like?’ Gerald asked.
‘I do,’ Mr Fry said. ‘I believe you’ve met him.’
‘We’ve met him?’ Sam said.
‘Yes. It’s Mr Hoskins. From the book store in Glastonbury.’
Gerald was stunned. They hadn’t seen Mr Hoskins since before the clash with Mason Green in the chamber under Beaconsfield. He’d been very helpful in their quest to find the diamond casket but left town before they had a chance to thank him. The news that Mr Hoskins was Archer Corporation’s agent in India was almost as surprising as the discovery that he was Mrs Rutherford’s brother. For while Mrs Rutherford was gentle, kind and thoughtful, Mr Hoskins was—
‘What’s that grumpy old fart doing here?’ Sam asked, neatly filling in Gerald’s thoughts.
‘He said he was an old friend of the family,’ Gerald said. ‘But I had no idea he worked for the company.’
The Emerald Casket Page 5
