The Emerald Casket

by Richard Newsome

  ‘There’s another set of doors here.’ It was Alisha, calling from around the corner.

  ‘Here too,’ Sam called to Gerald’s right.

  But it was Ruby’s faint voice from the far side of the temple that had them all running. ‘Found it!’ she shouted.

  Gerald caught up with Alisha and almost lost his footing on the sandy paving on the final turn. Sam arrived from the other direction and the three of them skidded to a stop to join Ruby. She was pointing at the lintel above a tall doorway—carved into the rock was the familiar triangle of arms with a sun blazing in the centre.

  Sam slapped his palms onto the stone and pushed. Nothing. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Give me a hand.’

  Four sets of shoulders heaved against the doors but they may as well have been trying to turn back time.

  Sam slumped onto a mound of sand. ‘That thing’s not moving for anyone, at least not without a stick of dynamite.’

  ‘Maybe the casket is safe, then?’ Alisha said.

  Gerald stared at his family seal, still clear after so many centuries buried in the sand. ‘A door isn’t going to stop Mason Green. Or the thin man. We’ve got to find a way inside.’

  Ruby had joined Sam on the sand pile and poked around some of the half-buried sculptures scattered there. She found a brush left behind by one of the archeologists and whisked sand away from a statue of an elephant.

  ‘That one’s Ganesha,’ Alisha said. ‘The god for removing obstacles.’

  Ruby brushed more sand away to reveal a potbellied elephant with four arms. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘We’ve seen him before.’ She cleared away the last of the sand at the base of the statue. ‘What’s this?’

  Alisha peered over her shoulder.

  ‘That’s just his vahana…his vehicle. All the gods have an animal to carry them around,’ she said.

  Ruby snickered.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Guess which animal Ganesha rides about on,’ Ruby said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your favourite—a rat!’

  Sam scrunched his eyes shut, as if someone had just scraped their fingernails down the inside of his skull. ‘Shut up about rats, okay?’

  Gerald glanced at Ruby. There was a glint in her eye.

  ‘What’s the matter, Sam?’ Ruby asked, taking a step towards him. ‘You’re not still frightened of little claws on your skin, are you?’

  ‘Shut up, Ruby!’ Sam squirmed deeper into the sand.

  His sister loomed over him, her eyes wide and her fingers wriggling in the air. ‘Ooh, the rats are going to get you. They’re crawling under your shirt. Their tails are slithering down your back!’

  ‘Shut up!’

  Sam rolled back onto the sand pile. His face contorted in disgust, the thought of a rat scurrying down his spine sending him into a roiling fit of revulsion. Ruby couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Feel the fur! Feel the claws!’

  There was a hollow clunk. It came from deep beneath the sand. Sam stopped his squirming and his eyes shot open. Then, as if a hand had reached up from the pit of hell and grabbed him by the collar, he disappeared beneath the surface.

  The sand settled flat again, as if Sam had been vacuumed from existence.

  Chapter 22

  For a full three seconds, no one moved or uttered a sound.

  Then Alisha dived into the pile, dropping to her knees and shovelling sand aside. Before Ruby and Gerald could get in to help, she sank to her waist. The sand was like a whirlpool intent on swallowing her whole. A plaintive cry of ‘Gerald’ escaped her lips, then her head vanished under the sand.

  ‘Come on!’ Gerald cried. He and Ruby both leapt into the pit. The sand collapsed clean away.

  They landed feet first in a mound of fine sand, sinking up to their thighs, and stood there like candles stuffed into a birthday cake. The last of the grit showered onto them.

  Gerald wiped his eyes and looked at Ruby. She had a pyramid of sand on her head. He started laughing.

  ‘This is all your fault, you know,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t tease him.’

  Ruby shook her head like a dog at the beach. Sand flew everywhere.

  ‘It’s his fault for being such a wuss.’

  They were in the centre of an eight-sided chamber. Sam and Alisha were dusting off by an alcove set into one of the walls. A thin beam of light shone through the narrow opening above.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll be climbing out that way,’ Gerald said, gazing at the hole they’d fallen through. He slid down the mound of sand to the stone floor. Ruby followed.

  ‘See, Sam?’ she said to her brother. ‘Maybe when you grow up you can be a plumber—drains unblocked to order.’

  Sam reached into his backpack, pulled out a headlamp and flicked on the light. ‘Gosh, you are so funny,’ he said. ‘Don’t suppose you thought to bring one of these? Lucky for you, I’ve got spares.’ Sam dug out three more lamps. He tossed one to Ruby. ‘Now why don’t you use that amazing brain of yours to find us a way out of here? Shouldn’t take you more than a hundred years.’

  Soon four beams of light darted around the chamber as they poked about searching for an exit. The walls were lined with stone carvings, depicting hundreds of gods and demons in various stages of battle. A deep alcove with more carvings inside was set into the centre of each of the eight walls.

  Gerald and Sam inspected one cluster of stone figures.

  ‘Look at that one,’ Sam said, pointing to a line of carvings on the wall. ‘Does that look like a priest raising someone from the dead?’

  ‘Do you have a thing about zombies?’ Gerald asked.

  ‘Nowhere near as big as the thing he has about rats.’

  ‘Shut up, Ruby!’

  Gerald chuckled and stepped into one of the alcoves. He trained his light onto the back wall. He ran his fingertips across the smooth face of a pig-headed demon. How long ago had the artist put the finishing touches to that? Gerald tilted his head. There was a rumbling sound above, like thunder. In an instant, a massive granite slab crashed down behind him, sealing him in. He spun around and threw himself against it but, just like the doors to the temple, it wasn’t going anywhere. He smacked the flat of his hand on the rock and yelled. Nothing. If the others were calling out for him from the other side, he couldn’t hear them. He was completely cut off, like the dead from the living.

  Gerald tried to swallow the rising panic. He was snared in a space no bigger than two old-fashioned phone boxes. The light from his headlamp bounced around the walls as he searched for a way out. He raced from side to side, sliding his hands across the walls of his stone prison. There was no hidden panel, no secret switch to open the trap. He called out again but the dead sound of his voice rang hollow in his ears. Then he noticed a trickle of water on the floor. Gerald dropped to his knees. Water was seeping in through a line of small openings at the base of the far wall. The trickle was building to a flow. Within seconds it was gushing in, splashing over Gerald’s boots.

  The tiny alcove was filling with water.

  Gerald pounded on the walls, screaming for help. A searing pain shot through his foot. Two crabs had slipped into his torture chamber with the torrent of water. One lashed out with a nipper. It sliced the tough fabric of his boot, nicking a toe. Gerald kicked out. The crab threw its claw and swam clear. Gerald stamped into the knee-high water, but more crabs swam in through the openings.

  The panic that had been bubbling at the surface now cascaded over. Gerald flailed in all directions, lashing out with arms and legs, churning the water into a frothing cauldron. But the higher the water level rose, the harder it was to have any impact on the crabs. A claw slashed through the leg of his pants, cutting into his thigh. Gerald drove a hand under the surface and grabbed the crab by its back. He ripped it free. The claw stuck in the cloth of his pants. He dashed the crab against the wall. Still, the water level rose. And still the crabs came.

  Gerald had to get out of the water. He jammed h
is shoulders up against the granite slab and pressed a foot against the opposite wall. With a grunt he pushed back and walked himself up the wall.

  With his hands pressed up over his shoulders he was able to lift himself clear of the surface and he stretched out horizontal across the alcove. He inched up as high as he could get. But he knew it couldn’t last. He flinched. The tip of a crab claw had sliced a neat line through the seat of his pants.

  ‘This is getting serious,’ he muttered.

  Gerald took a deep breath and summoned every spark of strength left in him—then heaved out with his feet, driving hard from the thighs. Nothing happened. The water kept rising. Gerald felt more nips at his backside. But then there was a give, a slight shift in the rock. He heaved once more, crying out like a teenage tennis player.

  Whether it was Gerald’s brute strength pumped by adrenalin or the build-up of the water pressure, the back wall crashed open spilling thousands of litres and dozens of crabs across a broad stone floor. Gerald dropped to the ground and rolled clear of the flashing nippers that snapped at his back. He came to rest on his hands and knees and sucked in deep breaths.

  Somewhere in the background he sensed a change—something different in the atmosphere. The pumps had just switched back on. Must have been a blackout, Gerald thought. He picked himself up and stepped over the last of the crabs as they scuttled across the stones, crunching one under his boot on the way. He swung his headlamp around. He was on the edge of a huge courtyard under a vaulted ceiling. A mezzanine skirted the upper walls. Doorways led to rooms and halls that hadn’t seen the light of the sun for a thousand years. He ventured into the courtyard. The sound of his footsteps bounced around, the clear echo somehow emphasising just how alone Gerald was feeling. He had to get back to his friends.

  The light from Gerald’s headlamp started to dim. He whacked it on the side. It flared, but he knew that time was short. He started to jog towards the far side of the courtyard. He ran up stone stairs to a wall with three doorways. He poked his head inside the middle one. The straining lamp illuminated a narrow passageway.

  ‘This looks as good as any,’ he muttered and wandered in.

  He could just make out a lightening of the darkness ahead. Finally he stumbled out of the passage.

  ‘Holy cow,’ Gerald breathed.

  He stood inside the base of the tallest temple in the lost city of Mamallapuram.

  Each of the four walls that sloped up to the peak played host to hundreds—maybe thousands—of sculptures. They clung to the surface in an endless diorama of figures locked in an eternal battle of good versus evil, no closer to resolution than when the artists set the fight in motion more than a thousand years ago. They were painted in the brightest hues of red, green, gold and blue. Each face was an individual and each one a masterpiece. The sculptures climbed all the way to a jewelled ceiling that glowed in a shaft of radiance from the floodlights outside.

  Gerald stepped further into the heart of the pyramid, overwhelmed by the splendour. He scuffed his boots across the vivid red, white and blue mosaics of the floor. Light streamed into the space through scores of rectangular slots hidden among the sculptures in the sloping walls. The entire structure was like a gigantic cheese grater. Gerald approached a large statue of Ganesha standing directly beneath the apex. It sat cross-legged on a black granite plinth, its face painted with an impish grin.

  Three of the statue’s arms each held an item: a flute, a rope of beads, a lotus blossom. The fourth pointed to its right, to an arched doorway. Gerald took a few paces in that direction when a noise seemed to echo out of the passage. He pulled his sling out of his pack. The rocks were wrapped together in a tight bundle. He gripped them tight and moved silently to the doorway. He stood close to one side and raised his hand.

  And waited.

  A minute later a head emerged from the passage. Gerald brought the rocks down hard. But two hands caught his wrist before he could connect. His arm was whipped down and he was flipped onto his back. A boot pressed onto his throat. Gerald looked up to see Alisha standing over him, still holding his arm in a wrist lock.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ Gerald wheezed. ‘Benefit of a classical education?’

  Alisha grinned and pulled him to his feet.

  ‘How come you didn’t pull all this martial arts stuff on Kali when she grabbed you in the market?’ Gerald asked, clutching his right shoulder.

  ‘I’m not so good once someone’s got hold of me,’ Alisha blushed. ‘I really need a clean shot at them.’

  Sam and Ruby charged out of the passage and grabbed Gerald in a bear hug. They were all soaked.

  ‘We flipped out when that rock fell down and locked you in,’ Ruby said. ‘And then there was a blackout.’

  ‘The pumps stopped and water started pouring in from all over the place,’ Alisha said. ‘We had to swim through that hole in the ceiling. We thought you’d drowned for sure.’

  ‘It was a bit tight,’ Gerald said. ‘Let’s hope the pumps keep working.’

  ‘And you remember those crabs?’ Sam said. ‘Another one nipped me on the finger.’

  Gerald glanced at his boots, the blood-soaked sock that showed through a ragged tear and at the slashes in the leg of his pants. He untangled a crab claw still stuck in the cloth. ‘Really,’ he said. ‘How horrible for you.’

  A curious expression crossed Alisha’s face. ‘Gerald,’ she said. ‘What happened to your backside?’

  Gerald whipped his hands around to the seat of his pants. It had been sliced to ribbons.

  ‘Thought I felt a draft,’ he said.

  Sam laughed. ‘Nice knickers, mate. Anyway, when the pumps started up again we climbed back down. The entry to that alcove was open and you weren’t there, so we figured you must be okay. We came to a wall with three doors in it, took the one on the left and ended up here.’

  Ruby turned a full circle, taking in the magnificence of the temple overhead. ‘Do you think the casket is hidden in here?’

  ‘It has to be,’ Gerald said. ‘I don’t know why, but I can just—’ he paused, searching for the right word, ‘sense it.’

  Then, as if floating across from the spirit world, a voice filled the chamber. ‘Then you’ll be able to find it for me.’

  Slowly emerging from the shadows came a gun. It inched into view: first the muzzle, then the barrel, and finally the grip in the palm of a steady hand. Then into the light stepped the one man in the world Gerald hoped he would never see again.

  Chapter 23

  Sir Mason Green’s skin was brown and glowing, as if he’d been lounging by a swimming pool at a luxury resort. The tan served to highlight the silver of his neatly cropped hair and added to the impression of someone with time to burn and not a worry in the world. He wore tailored khakis, like an army officer dressed by an Italian designer in stark contrast to Gerald and his bedraggled friends.

  ‘Is this where I say: “So, we meet again”?’ Sir Mason said.

  Gerald’s eyes locked on the pistol. ‘I thought you were in Egypt,’ he said.

  ‘Ha! Mr Wilkins, the first trick for a life on the run is to leave sufficient clues to send the police in precisely the wrong direction. I have never been to Egypt and have no intention of ever going.’

  ‘So the map in the Rattigan Club was a fake?’ Ruby said.

  Green tilted his head in her direction. ‘More of a diversion than a fake, Miss Valentine,’ he said. ‘A red herring in the Green Room! But it worked a treat. The police went blundering off in the wrong direction whilst I concentrated my efforts on the real destination. And, as ever, Mr Wilkins, you have led me to just where I need to be.’

  Gerald scowled at the man holding the gun. ‘How can that be? A week ago we didn’t know we’d be coming to India. How could you know we’d even be invited?’

  Green smirked. ‘My dear boy,’ he said. ‘Who do you think invited you?’

  The answer smacked Gerald in the forehead.

  ‘It was you!’ he said. ‘You wrot
e to me, pretending to be Mr Gupta.’ Gerald swung around to Alisha. ‘Your father received a letter from me, didn’t he? Saying something like: we’re coming to India—can we stay a while?’

  Alisha looked stunned. ‘That’s right. We didn’t invite you. We thought you were just coming down for a holiday.’

  Green laughed. ‘It’s amazing what can be achieved with two well-directed envelopes,’ he said. ‘And the cost of postage is so reasonable.’

  Gerald clenched his fists. He couldn’t believe he’d been so easily fooled.

  ‘And so here we all are,’ Green said. ‘On the verge of finding the emerald casket and the riches it contains.’

  Gerald could contain himself no longer. ‘You are a billionaire!’ he yelled. ‘What more could you possibly want?’

  The old man regarded Gerald evenly. ‘There is always more, Gerald. Always more.’

  Gerald wracked his brain for a way to escape. He had to play for time.

  ‘Tell me about Octavius Viridian,’ Gerald said.

  A slight narrowing of the eyes betrayed Green’s surprise at hearing the name.

  ‘You’ve been doing some research, Gerald,’ he said. His expression relaxed. ‘Yes, I am descended from Octavius, which is neither interesting nor important. What matters is the report that Octavius sent back to the emperor while he was hunting down your ancestor. Forgive an old man his indulgences, but one of the benefits of wealth is the ability to buy things. Mr Gupta has his gems; I find historic documents far more interesting. It was Octavius’ report and a tsunami that led me to this town.’

  ‘Why follow in some assassin’s footsteps?’ Gerald asked. ‘Surely you’re better than that.’

  ‘Gerald, your problem is you have too high a regard for the motives of others. People are base creatures at heart. Set your expectations low. You’ll never be disappointed.’

  Gerald was desperate to keep the conversation going. ‘That’s just being cynical,’ he said.