The Emerald Casket

by Richard Newsome

  ‘What’s missing?’ Gerald pondered out loud. He shoved the book back into his pack.

  Gerald found Sam in the lounge on his favourite pile of cushions, munching toast and jam.

  ‘You know, Gerald,’ he said between mouthfuls, ‘this whole luxury thing—it’s the way life’s meant to be. People getting you breakfast, making your bed, picking up after you.’

  ‘Isn’t that what parents are for?’ Gerald asked.

  ‘Yeah, of course. But servants do it with style. And they don’t expect you to say thanks. Or help with the washing up.’

  ‘So you’ve found your place in the world, have you?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Sam said, stuffing more toast into his cheek and nestling back into the cushions. ‘This is where I belong.’

  Gerald poured himself some orange juice and took an apple Danish from a tray brimming with pastries. He picked up a remote, switched on the television which filled one of the villa’s walls and flicked through the channels, not looking for anything in particular. He settled on a music video station and dropped into a lounge chair with his breakfast.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said.

  ‘Always dangerous. What about?’

  ‘We should look for one of the caskets.’

  ‘What!’ Sam almost dropped his toast. ‘Are you insane?’

  ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’

  ‘What? Your lack of sanity?’

  ‘No. My family seal. The way it keeps turning up. It must have something to do with one of the other caskets.’

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  Gerald wasn’t about to describe his imaginary conversations with Sir Mason Green after what Sam had said about his sanity.

  ‘Just a hunch,’ Gerald said. He opened his backpack and pulled out the bandit’s dagger. He rubbed the silver butt against his shirt. ‘Gaius Antonius had this symbol on his ring. He was the bearer of the diamond casket. It’s on a knife that some bandit used to snatch Alisha off the street. And it’s on this.’

  He retrieved the card that the fortune-teller had slipped into his pocket the night before.

  Sam gave a ‘So what?’ shrug.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ Gerald said. ‘One of the caskets must be in India.’

  ‘But that map in Green’s study,’ Sam said. ‘There was no link to India. And you don’t care about the other caskets, do you?’

  Gerald thought back to his dreams. Before this whole billionaire thing had happened his dreamscape had been restricted to the terrain of his sketchbook. Fighting dragons or rescuing girls. But ever since Sir Mason Green had started invading his sleep, the dreams had taken on a clarity he’d never experienced before. And he hated to admit it, but he was desperate to know what was in the other caskets. The power of the golden rod that had surged through him that night in Beacons-field— he wanted to know what lay behind it. He needed to know. And if he was honest, there was something else as well.

  He wanted to feel that power surge again.

  ‘If we can find those other caskets we’ll stop Green from getting them,’ Gerald said to Sam, not very convincingly.

  ‘Not worth interrupting a holiday for,’ Sam said, helping himself to pastries.

  ‘Well it is to me,’ Gerald said. ‘I think we should find the tower on this card.’

  They were interrupted by the sound of laughter. Shrill, uninhibited laughter. Gerald and Sam looked through the windows to see Ruby and Alisha holding hands and dancing in crazy whooping circles in the pouring rain.

  Gerald looked back at Sam. ‘Are you seeing this?’

  Sam shook his head. ‘They are from another planet.’

  The girls danced into the shelter of the porch and almost kicked in the glass doors as they tumbled inside. They were drenched through and still laughing.

  ‘What’s with you two?’ Gerald said. ‘You’re like a pair of—’

  ‘What?’ Alisha said. ‘Giggly schoolgirls?’

  For some reason, Ruby thought this was the funniest thing that she had ever heard. She fell into the cushions on top of Sam.

  ‘Hey! Careful,’ he yelped. ‘You’re soaked.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruby panted through gulps of air. ‘I think it’s raining.’

  This time it was Alisha’s turn to burst into a fit. They both rolled onto the silk rug in the middle of the room, giggling madly.

  ‘Ruby wasn’t like this before,’ Gerald said to Sam.

  ‘There wasn’t another girl around before,’ Sam said. ‘Alien species. May as well try to understand creatures from Mars.’

  ‘Or anything from Uranus!’ Ruby blurted out. That was the end of her and Alisha for the next five minutes.

  Gerald and Sam sat on the couch and continued eating while they waited for the hilarity to subside. Eventually, Ruby and Alisha squeezed out the last cackle and lay exhausted in a haze of tears and snuffles.

  ‘Finished?’ Gerald asked.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Ruby said. She raised herself up on her elbows and smiled at the boys. ‘Everything feels better after a laugh.’

  Ruby was like a new person. It was the first time they’d seen her happy in days. She was wearing one of Alisha’s white and gold robes—the girls had clearly been playing dress-ups.

  ‘Shouldn’t you two be spitting poison into each other’s eyes, cobra-style?’ Gerald said.

  Ruby grinned. ‘We sat up most of last night. We’ve sorted things out,’ she said.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘None of your business,’ Alisha said. ‘Girl things. We understand each other now.’

  Sam looked at Gerald.

  ‘Do you understand me, Gerald?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Why of course, Samuel,’ Gerald said. ‘I understand that you were hungry because you’ve just eaten a loaf of bread. And I understand that you are extremely ugly.’

  They both burst out laughing.

  Ruby pulled Alisha to her feet. ‘I am so glad you’re here, Alisha,’ she said. ‘I was getting tired of putting up with these two. Now, what are we going to do today?’

  ‘Gerald wants to find a casket,’ Sam said, changing the channel on the television. ‘What do you want to do?’

  Ruby looked at Gerald in exasperation.

  ‘Gerald? I thought we agreed that it was pointless.’

  ‘I think you agreed for the both of us,’ Gerald said.

  ‘Welcome to my world,’ Sam mumbled.

  Gerald showed the fortune-teller’s card to Alisha. ‘Do you recognise this?’

  The picture showed a slender stone tower, rising five storeys and becoming narrower towards the top. Carved balconies ringed the structure at each level and there were small windows like finger holes on a tin whistle. The overall impression was of a giant pirate’s spyglass.

  Alisha studied the picture.

  ‘It looks familiar. But there are so many monuments and temples. I’ll ask Father. He’ll know.’

  ‘Your father!’ Gerald said. ‘I’d forgotten about him. After what happened last night there’s no way he’s going to let you out.’

  ‘That’s not a problem,’ Alisha said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘He doesn’t know.’

  Gerald looked dumbfounded. ‘Miss Turner must have told him about us running off,’ he said. ‘That’s what the fun police are for.’

  Alisha smiled to herself. ‘I had a little chat with her last night. It’s not a good look that she and Mr Fry lost us at the market. So we’ve agreed that Father needn’t hear anything about it.’

  ‘Not even about the kidnapper?’

  ‘They don’t know anything about it and I’m not going to let some common bandit, or my father, get in the way of me having some fun. That thug was just after money. People get robbed everyday—it’s no big deal.’

  Gerald took the card back from Alisha. ‘Good. It’s agreed then. Let’s find this tower.’

  Mr Gupta held the picture under a gilded desk lamp.

  ‘That’s the Qutab Minar,’ he said. ‘It
’s a little south of here. Tallest brick minaret in the world. Would you like to see it?’

  Gerald nodded and retrieved the card, slipping it into his shirt pocket. ‘Yeah. It looks interesting.’

  Mr Gupta stood from his desk and walked across to wrap an arm around his daughter’s shoulders.

  ‘I’m delighted you’re seeing some of our national heritage, Gerald. And getting Alisha interested as well. Until now, she preferred to spend her life in a shopping mall.’

  Alisha shifted under her father’s embrace, as if cold porridge was running down her spine.

  ‘So I can go?’ she asked, through clenched teeth.

  ‘Of course. As long as—’

  ‘Miss Turner and Mr Fry go along as well. Yes, I know.’ Alisha’s voice was all sunshine, but Gerald could see her eyes were brewing a storm.

  From the backseat of the Mercedes limousine, Gerald couldn’t tell which was more frosty: the air conditioning or the reception they received from Mr Fry and Miss Turner.

  ‘Shall we enjoy the pleasure of your company for the entire day or will young sir and his friends be attempting another suicide mission?’ Fry’s voice was carved from ice.

  Gerald tried to keep a straight face amidst the sniggering in the backseat. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Fry. You won’t lose us today.’

  ‘Oh, joy,’ Fry said.

  The choking traffic was no longer a novelty and Gerald amused himself for the thirty-minute ride by trying to annoy his butler.

  ‘Mr Fry,’ he said. ‘I never found out. What’s your first name?’

  There was silence.

  ‘Mr Fry?’

  The butler shifted in the passenger seat. ‘I choose not to divulge that information.’

  ‘Why not?’

  There was another pause.

  ‘Because any unnecessary familiarity between the master of the house and the staff will lead to an inevitable and irretrievable breakdown in discipline and the corrosion of the chain of command.’

  ‘What chain of command?’ Gerald said. ‘This isn’t the army.’

  ‘More’s the pity,’ Fry muttered. ‘Nevertheless, it would be inappropriate for you to refer to me by anything other than Mr Fry.’

  Sam leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eye. ‘It’s not because you’re embarrassed, is it?’

  Fry’s jaw tightened. ‘I have nothing about which to be embarrassed.’

  Ruby chimed in. ‘I bet Miss Turner would tell us her name.’

  ‘It’s Emily.’ The name popped from Alisha’s mouth like a pip from an over-ripe cherry. She grinned. ‘Her name’s Emily. Emily Turner.’

  Gerald glanced at the statuesque Miss Turner behind the wheel, her sunglasses reflecting the arc of the Mercedes’ windscreen wipers. Did he catch a flash of her eyes darting across to Mr Fry? A single bead of sweat made a break from Fry’s right eyebrow and tracked south along his cheekbone.

  ‘I bet Miss Turner would like to know your name,’ Gerald said. ‘Wouldn’t you, Miss Turner? Emily?’

  For a moment all that could be heard was the fwump-fwump of the wipers, sweeping the rain from the windscreen. Miss Turner didn’t answer. But she did cast a glance towards Mr Fry.

  Fry’s eyes swivelled a millimetre towards the governess. ‘I’ll write it down,’ he said.

  The four occupants of the rear seat tumbled back in triumph. Fry pulled a notebook from his breast pocket and scribbled in it with a pencil. He tore out a sheet and flicked it back over his shoulder. There was a bridesmaid scramble for the page before Gerald emerged the victor. He shielded the contents against his chest.

  ‘Come on, Gerald,’ Sam said. ‘Let’s see.’

  Gerald peeled back the corner of the paper. His forehead puckered. ‘St John?’ he said.

  Fry’s nostrils flared. ‘It is pronounced Sinjin,’ he sniffed. ‘It is an old family name.’

  Gerald blinked. ‘Your name is Sinjin Fry,’ he said. ‘Singe and Fry. That’s too good.’ The back seat erupted in laughter.

  Fry’s eyes glazed over.

  Eventually the mirth died down and Gerald came up for air.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Fry,’ he said, catching his breath. ‘I don’t feel so bad about being called Gerald now.’

  Gerald wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Miss Turner’s lips edge up slightly at the corners.

  The Mercedes turned into a parking lot near the entrance to the Qutab Minar complex. From behind a bank of trees they could see a cluster of ancient stone buildings.

  The rain had eased to scudding showers. Before they could get out of the car Miss Turner flicked a switch and the rear doors locked with a metallic clunk.

  Alisha tugged at the handle. She swung around to face Miss Turner. ‘And?’ she demanded.

  Miss Turner drew a hand to her face and removed her sunglasses. Her eyes shone a not-to-be-messed-with blue. ‘There will be no running off. No silliness. No levity. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alisha said. ‘No fun. No laughter. No reason to live. Can we get out now?’

  The blue eyes drilled into Alisha’s face. ‘Need I remind you, Miss Gupta, that all it takes is a word from me and your father will have you in lockdown until it’s time to go back to school. We don’t want a repeat of the Swiss incident. Do we?’

  Alisha narrowed her eyes and glared back at her governess. ‘No,’ she said through strained lips. ‘We don’t.’

  Miss Turner managed a smile. ‘Then we understand each other.’

  The door locks sprung open. The four of them climbed from the backseat and rushed to the shelter of a banyan tree while Mr Fry and Miss Turner queued for tickets at the admission gate.

  ‘Those two make a good pair,’ Gerald said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Sam said, ‘Sinjin and whingein.’

  ‘What happened in Switzerland?’ Ruby asked Alisha.

  Alisha glared across at Miss Turner. ‘I’d rather not talk about it,’ she muttered.

  ‘Must have been big,’ Sam said.

  ‘Put it this way,’ Alisha said. ‘If you ever need tips on starting an avalanche, come and see me.’

  They dodged some puddles and followed Mr Fry and Miss Turner through a stone archway and into an expansive garden. They declined an offer from a man in an orange shirt for a guided tour and walked towards the stonework remains. Vaulted gateways of red sandstone the height of a five-storey building stood amongst dome-topped temples and the ruins of columns and courtyards. The site was dominated by a singular structure that stood sentinel over it all. The minaret, a work of art in red brick and white marble, towered over them.

  Gerald craned his neck to take in the scale of the building. ‘How old is this thing?’ he asked no one in particular.

  Ruby read from a plaque at the foot of the tower. ‘At least 700 years.’

  Sam leaned up against a railing that circled its base. ‘There’s a lot of old stuff around here.’

  Ruby glared at her brother. ‘You’re not much into history, are you, geography boy?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Of course there’s a lot of old stuff here. People have been living here for thousands of years. This is home to some of the world’s earliest civilisations. What were you expecting? People flying about with jetpacks?’

  Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. He folded a stick into his mouth. ‘I dunno,’ he said, chewing away. ‘Maybe a bit more new stuff.’

  Ruby closed her eyes and, judging by her lips, she was counting to ten. Finally she took a breath and turned to Gerald. ‘Either he is or I am.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Adopted.’

  Gerald fought back a grin. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s see if we can find my family seal around here.’

  Mr Fry and Miss Turner accepted their request to explore and seemed happy to keep at a distance.

  Sam stayed beside Alisha as they wandered across a stone courtyard towards a domed building. Gerald nudged Ruby as they followed.

  ‘Don
’t you think that’s cute?’ he said.

  Ruby blew a raspberry. ‘Alisha would rather kiss the cat,’ she said.

  They followed Alisha and Sam inside a temple. Light streamed in through arched openings on two sides. There was a tangle of bamboo scaffolding in one of the archways where workmen were busy with hoses and brushes, cleaning carvings on the inner edge.

  ‘Your family seal might be among these patterns,’ Alisha said as Gerald stopped beside her.

  He scanned the archway and the surrounding ceiling. There were countless designs cut into the red rock but nothing resembled a triangle of forearms.

  He sighed.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ he said to Alisha. He took the card from his pocket and studied the black ink sketch. What had the fortune-teller been trying to tell him?

  Alisha reached out and squeezed Gerald’s forearm. ‘Let’s keep looking,’ she said.

  They wandered back outside. ‘Where do we even start?’ Sam asked.

  Gerald, whose shoulders had curled into a despondent slouch, suddenly straightened. He pointed a finger towards a man in an orange shirt, standing near the base of the minaret. ‘We ask that guy,’ he said. And before anybody could say a thing, Gerald ran into the rain towards the man who had offered them a guided tour.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Gerald called from a dozen paces away. ‘Excuse me. Can you help us?’ He skidded the final couple of metres across the wet paving to stop beside the middle-aged man.

  ‘What can I do for you, sir?’ the man said.

  Sam, Ruby and Alisha caught up with them as Gerald held out the card. ‘Have you ever seen this symbol anywhere here?’

  The man took the card from Gerald and studied the drawing, then flipped it over to look at the other side.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ he said to Gerald.

  ‘Last night. At a market. From a fortune-teller.’

  The man seemed satisfied with the answer. He glanced about, then asked Gerald, ‘Would you like a tour of the inside of the minaret?’

  Gerald looked up at the tower.

  ‘I’m afraid I can only take one of you as the stairway is very narrow,’ the man said.