by Braun, Matt;
Tanner acknowledged it with a token gesture and glanced across at Stacey. "Remember the talk we had about déjà vu . . . that night in the crypt?"
"Of course! How could I forget?"
"And I told you I'd seen a grave with the tombstone already in place?"
"Yes, but I thought," Stacey paused, slightly bewildered "when you opened the crypt this morning, I thought that was the last . . ."
"No. The last card is the hole card, and you never show it till the end of the game. Watch!"
Tanner knelt down and set his shoulder to the tombstone. Then he heaved, driving forward with his legs, and twisted the granite slab ninety degrees counterclockwise. A tremor shook the earth beneath their feet, followed an instant later by the dull whump of an underground explosion. The earth suddenly buckled around the imprint of the tombstone; chunks of dark sod erupted skyward and rained down across the grave-site. Even as the debris began to settle, a large hole became visible, exposing the shattered edges of a cement pipe. A split second later, seemingly out of nowhere, the top of a metallic cylinder appeared at the surface of the hole. Tanner bent down, pulled a long aluminum canister from the hole, and turned to face them.
The director and Stacey stood immobile, their eyes riveted on the canister. Knox's mouth hung open, his gaze wide and owlish behind the thick glasses. Stacey appeared spellbound. A moment passed as Tanner juggled the canister in his hands, staring at it with the expression of someone unexpectedly greeted by an old and cherished friend. That strange sense of elation again swept over him, and he felt some inner spark of pride that it had all functioned so perfectly. Finally, altogether reluctant to see it end, he put his shoulder to the tombstone and bulled it back into position. Then he tossed the canister to Knox.
"Inside are the original blueprints of the crypt and the underground hydraulic system. You won't have any problem getting it authenticated, but I suggest you wait and have it opened by court order."
He paused, mouth creased in an ironic smile. "That way it's foolproof. You'll have a legal ruling that eliminates any chance of a future claimant."
"Yes, it would." Knox blinked and cleared his throat. "You're aware, of course, that you could enter a claim today. After all, this is incontestable . . . the last secret."
"No, I think I'll pass. You see, if I did that, then I wouldn't be me any longer, would I?"
"Quite frankly," Knox admitted, "I'm not at all sure who you are now."
Tanner's smile broadened into an enigmatic grin, but he made no response. Suddenly they heard shouts in the distance. Several detectives and a couple of uniformed deputies were running toward them, alerted by the explosion. All the yelling and commotion jarred Knox out of his funk. He hugged the canister to his chest, eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Tanner for a long moment. No words were spoken, but in the exchange a silent pact was struck. At length, the director bobbed his head, the final affirmation, and then hurried off in the direction of the gatehouse.
Tanner felt a hand on his arm and turned. Stacey looked numb but curiously poised, almost serene. Her voice was warm and husky, vibrant.
"That was quite a noble gesture. The foundation . . . and Knox. You could have had it all. The entire fortune."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. But then again, maybe I got the best end of the bargain after all. The Buddhists say that nirvana isn't to be found in wealth but rather the ability to be indifferent toward it."
"Nirvana! You mean the eightfold path? I didn't know you were a student of Buddhism."
Tanner shrugged. "It's been a long journey. Guess I must've picked it up somewhere in my . . . travels." Suddenly he smiled, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "Besides, all that money would have kept the pot boiling. And I think Lucas has earned a rest, don't you?"
"Yes, darling, I do. A richly deserved rest?" Stacey's laugh was infectious, faintly impudent. "Until the next time around anyway."
"The hell with that!" Tanner grabbed her hand and took off across the lawn. "Let's make the second time count."
A lazy forenoon breeze stirred, and with it came that old familiar presence. Its laughter whispered through the trees, and under the dome of a brassy sky, they began the long walk home.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1977 by Matthew Braun
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-1742-1
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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New York, NY 10014
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MATT BRAUN
FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA
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