Just his type.
Frankie began trying to sketch the box, and the decorations on the sides that he could see. No artist he, it took several tries, and several napkins before he thought he might have caught the essence of the design. Finally satisfied, he folded it up and tucked it into his shirt pocket.
He took a couple of more drinks, picturing the box in his head. He set his glass down, and pulled the sketch out of his pocket. Unfolding it, he went over it one more time. He nodded to himself. Yep, that was about right. He couldn't think of anything else to add. He again folded it and returned it to his shirt pocket.
He was still wondering - who wouldn't have - about what was in the box. He tipped the bottle back, draining it. He looked at the coins left on the bar, reached into his pocket and pulled a few more to set beside them, waved at the bartender, and left.
He was on his way home, perhaps a block away, thinking he should have taken a leak before he left. He began looking around for a place to go. Not many places between there and his house. At least not with a public bathroom. Walking a little faster, he was just about to duck into an alley between two buildings when one more place caught his eye.
INTERNET CAFÉ
They were open to the public. They'd have a bathroom. He headed over, looking in the front window. An older place, past it's prime. Originally, in the early computer days, many came in to access the very limited internet services. Now, however, everyone had internet at home, on their laptops, and even on their phones.
Not Frankie, of course.
He went over to the entrance. The door had more writing on it, a little easier to read as he approached it. Name, hours, and so on, plus one more.
NO PUBLIC RESTROOMS
Shit.
He paused at the door, thinking about it, then walked on in.
Chapter 9
Internet Search
"Hi. I need to use your restroom."
He knew what the response would be.
A girl was sitting on a stool behind the counter by a computer. Didn't anyone just use a cash register anymore?
"I'm sorry, sir, but we have no public restrooms. Those are only for the customers."
He made a move as if to undo his belt. "Not a problem. I understand. Of course, I guess I'll just have to drop a load right here. I'm sure you understand."
She looked at him with the look that said Yea, right. Go for it, but didn't actually say anything.
Expecting her to call his bluff, he stepped it up a bit, undoing his belt and unsnapping his pants. Just as he grabbed his zipper, she blinked.
"Okay, okay. It's over there." She flipped her thumb to the side, pointing the direction. As he passed, her thumb went in and a finger went up. She thought he hadn't seen, but of course, he had. Didn't matter.
Quickly shutting the bathroom door, he finished unzipping and took a leak. A good, long one. Enough to clear his bladder, and even, it seemed, his mind, as an idea flashed across it. It actually surprised him, as he just wasn't the kind of guy to come up with good ideas. Not really, he had to admit to himself. Not intelligent ideas, anyway.
But this one was different.
He shook it off, rinsed his hands and dried them, then tucked in his shirt to try and look a little more presentable. He'd have to be a little different person on the way out than he was on the way in to pull this off. He tried running his hands through his hair to straighten it some, but it did not help. He tried smiling into the mirror, and quickly stopped.
That was just a little too weird. This would have to do.
He was no tech wizard. In fact, he didn't even own a computer or have an e-mail account. If it wasn't on TV or dancing on a pole, he didn't watch it. What he did know was that kids hung out here, kids that knew a lot more about this than he did. Kids that probably wouldn't mind showing off what they could do if he slipped them a few bucks.
He came out, trying not to look like the same asshole that went in. The way she looked at him, it didn't look like he was succeeding. Oh well, might as well give it a shot.
"Uh, Miss, uh, I just wanted to, well, apologize for that a minute ago. I shouldn't have done that." He put on his best apologetic look, without much confidence.
She still looked unconvinced, but some of the edge might be off. "Well, okay, mister. I'm just not supposed to let anyone in here."
"Oh, no, no. I understand. My fault. I should have made it clearer why I was here."
Now she looked puzzled.
"I was looking for some help to get some information on the internet. I don't know much about it, but I thought I might be able to pay some kid to help me out with it. If that's alright."
Her attitude changed completely with that.
"Oh, in that case, you're a customer. That's completely different. Of course you can use the bathroom. Anytime you want." She blushed. What a stupid thing to say - anytime you want. She looked across the room, spotting some boys near the windows. "Anyway, I think I know someone who could help you. Just a sec." She turned away, but turned back towards him almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I almost forgot. If you don't have a computer, you need to pay for some time on one of ours." She pointed up at the sign with the rates. "That okay? You can get as little as one hour."
He read the sign, and slipped his hand into his pocket to check. First paying some kid, then renting a computer - he hoped there was enough there. Felt like it. "Sure, no problem."
She smiled and pulled out a clipboard. "If you could just fill out the top part for me -" she saw him pulling cash out - "Just the name and address since you're paying cash."
He took the clipboard and started to write, then stopped. Maybe giving out my name and address isn't so smart, he thought. Quick decision made, he continued filling it in, using both a fake name and address. He saw her go over to a couple of guys near the window. The two guys talked a moment, then nodded to the girl. The one sitting at the keyboard and the girl came back up to him.
"All done? Great. Mister, uh," she looked at the clipboard, "Manelli? Okay. This is Tony. He's real good at this stuff, and he said he'd be willing to let you hire him. I'll let you guys work it out." She nodded at Tony and returned to her post.
"Okay, Tony. What would you charge me to show me some stuff on the internet? I paid for an hour of time for a computer."
"Well, I'm thinking a twenty should cover it," Tony replied. "That okay?"
Frank nodded okay. What else could he do? He pulled out his wallet, grabbed the twenty in front and handed it to him. Then he realized he may have nodded a little too quickly.
"And my friend here, of course," added Tony. "He'll be helping us, since we're here together.
Frank checked his wallet again, finding only a couple of fives and a couple singles. He counted out twelve, plus his initial twenty. Thirty two. Turning red, he dug into his other pocket, and found two more, plus a little change.
"Uh, I wasn't really expecting to do this today, so I didn't bring a bunch of cash. This is all I have with me. Maybe I could, umm..." He knew he was being milked, but he couldn't back out now.
Tony reached out and grabbed the rest of the cash, leaving Frank with the change. "That's okay. This'll do it. Grab a chair and follow me."
Tony sat back down in front of the computer. Frankie spotted an empty chair under a little café table occupied by a dark-haired girl engrossed in her own laptop. He grabbed the back of the chair.
"Miss, mind if I take this chair?"
No response.
He noticed she had earphones in. He wondered how she managed to watch one computer while listening to something else. He waved a hand at her, catching her attention. She stopped, obviously irritated, and pulled one earphone out.
"Yes?"
"Just asking if I could have this chair."
She looked at him as if he were from another planet, then just flipped her hand in a whatever gesture, replacing her earphone, again focusing on her own computer.
He grabbed the chair, pulling it carefull
y away from the table, but still managed to bump the table leg, shaking the table, further annoying the girl. She didn't bother looking up at him- she just shook her head disgustedly as if he were not even there.
Frankie was used to this response. He got it all the time.
He carefully lifted the chair above the heads of the surrounding people, following the boy to a computer near the front window of the café. Not sure where to put his chair, he finally set it down to the boy's right; his buddy was already sitting to his left, using his own computer. Some kind of game was on both screens. It didn't make any sense to Frankie. If you're both playing the same game, why do you need two computers?
"Okay, mister. What would you like to do?"
"Well, I need to find, uh..." He paused. He'd better think about this for just a minute. He knew he shouldn't give too much away. He probably should have thought about this a bit first, but quick thinking had never been his strong suit. He was going to have to make it up as he went along, something that had never worked very well for Frankie.
Even he knew that.
"Well, a friend of mine was fixing up an old house, and he found this box, and wanted to know if there was any information on it. It looks - "he fished the sketch from his pocket, unfolding it and putting it on the table, "- kinda like this."
Tony leaned sideways for a better look. His buddy couldn't see, so he got up and stood behind and between the two of them.
"How big is it?" asked Tony's friend.
"About three feet long, roughly two feet deep, and maybe a foot or so high. These," he pointed to the markings around the periphery of the box, "are some kind of old locks. It looks like they go all around." He remembered he hadn't been able to see the back sides to know for sure.
"Looks like? You saw it, right? I mean, they either go around or they don't, right?"
Frankie squirmed a little, hoping they wouldn't notice.
No, quick thinking was not his strong suit.
"Oh, yea, of course, they go all around. I just meant that from my drawing, you might not know they went all around." Damn, that sounded stupid.
The boys looked at each other, then at the drawing and Frankie, then back at each other.
"Ooookay then. So they go all around. That's a lot of locks. Seems a bit excessive, if you ask me." Tony turned the paper more toward him. "I wonder why."
This time it was Frankie that had the answer. Or at least an answer. Somehow, it had just popped into his head, but it made sense.
"You know, I was thinking about that. I know that if several electricians are working on a job, they lock the fuse box off so no one can accidentally turn the power back on. If there is more than one electrician, each of them put their own lock on, and all of them have to be off before you can turn the power back on.
Maybe several people had keys, and they all had to be there to open it."
Tony nodded. "Makes sense to me. Only other thing would be decorative - you obviously don't need that many. But your idea makes a lot more sense."
Frankie was pleased, though he tried not to show it. He couldn't remember the last time someone had said he had a good idea. In fact, thinking about it, he couldn't remember anyone ever saying that to him.
Tony continued. "What's this on the box?" holding it up and turning it so both his buddy and Frankie could see it.
"Over here, that's some kind of ribbon. I think it was yellow, or orange. Not sure. It's pretty old. The marks here, and here, and over here, I'm not sure what they are. Some are on the ribbons, some were broken, some you could see where they had been, but they're not there anymore. They're kind of thick"
The friend jumped in again. "Oh, I bet they're seals. Wax seals. They put them on to see if anybody tampered with the box. They would put hot wax on something, like an envelope, and put their ring or seal or something to mark it and let it cool. If someone opens it, it breaks. Kind of like the ones on the back of semi's now, only now they're aluminum or plastic and have numbers on them so you know if someone opened it." He looked at it again, nodding to himself. "Yea, I'd bet money on that. Must be something important inside."
That's what Frankie thought.
Or at least was hoping.
"What about that?" Tony asked, pointing to the symbol.
"I don't know. Just a mark on the case. I don't know if it means anything or not. Oh, and on the side there was a fancy cross. Some kind of metal." He flipped the paper over. "Not a regular cross. Something fancy. Like this."
He drew a cross, then started adding little circles to the edge of the arms of the cross. Kind of goofy looking. Not like anything any of them had ever seen.
"And this? Just a letter - just a capital E? That's it? Nothing else anywhere on the box? That seems a little odd. Not to mention the goofy cross design. You sure about that?"
"Well, pretty much. I don't know much about it. That's why I'm here."
"What's inside it?"
"Don't know. Haven't opened it. It's uh, we don't want to, uh, can't break those seals or whatever -it might lose some value as an old find. You know, like you don't clean an old coin kind of thing?"
The boys looked at each other again. Tony shrugged his shoulders. "Possible, I guess. So what exactly do you want?"
"What is it? What could be inside of it? Is it valuable?" Frankie was trying to think of what to say without giving away any information. "Anything about it would help."
"Why not take it to some University or something? They'd be able to tell you all about it. They might even buy it off ya. You don't need us for that."
This wasn't going quite as Frankie had planned.
Of course, nothing ever did.
"Well, we were going to do that, but we want to know what it is first so they don't try to rip us off."
"Oh. Yeah. That makes sense." Tony spun around in the chair facing the keyboard, and started typing. "Let's try a couple things real quick." He tried some simple descriptions "Lock Box Cross, E" "Lockbox 6 locks" "Lockbox yellow ribbon" and so on.
There were hits on each of those key words, a few on some descriptions, a few more on others, but some finds were a real stretch.
Lockbox was a pretty common word, it seemed. Everything from an iron box carried on stage coaches in the Old West to a term for keeping various government funds and deposits separate from other funds. Companies used the term for having a third party collect payments for them. A variety of other definitions rounded out the collection. Dozens of photos supplemented the descriptions, but nothing was close. Not anywhere close.
Tony stopped, looking at the screen, then Frankie's drawing, eyebrows furrowed.
"Let me try something else." He started typing again, this time only on the topic of crosses. Soon dozens of crosses filled the screen. As he scanned down, dozens more. Frankie had no idea there were that many kinds of crosses, all having their own name. He panned down the screen, all three trying to find one that matched Frankie's drawing.
Nothing.
He clicked on another site, with another collection of crosses. A few more that were new, and lot they'd already seen.
Still nothing.
He tried a third with the same result. Most of the crosses were just repeats from the previous site. It was one of those cases of a good idea that just didn't seem to pan out. He went ahead to another site. A lot fewer choices on this one, and all these were duplicates as well.
"Well, that sure didn't work. I thought it would have. Unless the sketch is off."
Frankie looked at the sketch, trying to remember the box. "I could be wrong, but I think this is pretty close. Can you just check a few more?"
"Hey, it's your dime. No problem." Tony clicked on another site.
Two more sites.
Nothing, still.
And then, on the next site, there it was. Nothing special. Just one of dozens on the page. But there it was. Just like Frankie had drawn it. Complete with the circles.
"Well I'll be damned," said Tony. "There it is. Just like y
ou said."
Frankie smiled to himself. He wasn't such an idiot after all.
"Khachkar" or "Siroun" Cross, the title said. From Armenia. Apparently from a pagan background, prior to Christianity, but adopted as a Christian symbol. From the sounds of the article, it wasn't at all unusual for the early Christians to adopt or co-opt a symbol, or adapt or modify symbols from the local culture and make them their own as well, a practice that occurs, even today, much to the dismay of establishment church leaders.
Tony looked thoughtful again. "So it might not be a regular cross after all. That sucker might actually be really be old. Let's try it again, with these included". Tony took the lead and started typing. He now included "Khachkar" and "Siroun" in the searches he'd tried before. Far fewer hits, now that it was more specific, but still many pages, each with numerous sites to search through. The hits were getting pretty random, however, some with just simple variations of the word. Mostly just drawings and comparisons of different types of crosses. Nothing helpful. Lots of pages, but not much help.
"Anything else at all you can think of that might narrow it down some? Anything else you can tell me at all for the search?" He turned to Frankie, putting his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "Maybe the owner's name? Or where he lives? Anything?"
Frankie was afraid to get too specific. If there was something really valuable, as he suspected, the last thing he needed was for word to get out that he had found it. Not only would he lose the treasure, but probably lose his pension as well, and maybe even end up in jail. No, he had to be careful. "Well, the guy who owns it lives here in Rome, if that helps."
Tony turned back and started to add "Rome" to the description, then paused. "You know, as old as you say it is, and with a cross, here in Rome, maybe it had some history with the Vatican. Not real likely, but we might as well try it."
SUMMATION Page 6
