Surreal continuing story: walking through doors and passageways

[NDP]

“I wasn’t pulling any prank,” Billy explains. “I was just kind of relaying advice to anyone who could hear it. If it had been a prank, I would’ve done something like pretend I was God and say I was going to destroy the world with a flood of strawberry Yoo Hoo. That would’ve freaked people out.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t yield to your temptation to commit blashphemy,” Jane says. “But tell us, how long have had ESP.”

“It’s not really ESP in the sense that I can actually read minds and send telepathic messages on my own,” he says. “I had a little help.”

“With what?” his mother asks.

“This toy I got a few days ago,” Billy answers as he hands her a device that looks like a black portable stereo with two small megaphones facing the opposite direction on top.

“You put one of the little megaphones up to your forehead so that the other one faces out,” he explains. “Then you flick a switch to either send a message telepathically, receive a message telepathically, or just spy on what someone’s thinking.”

Jane closely examines the telepathic transmittor/receiver as we all look on. I notice on the side of the item, in bold red print, is the name of the company that made it: RNK.

“How much did this thing cost?” Jane inquires.

“I got it for $119.99,” Billy answers.

“You paid $120?” a shocked Jane yells. “Where did you get that kind of money?”

“It’s my lawnmowing money,” he quickly answers with a slightly annoyed tone. “I’ve saving it up since April. If it makes you feel any better, it was marked down from $180.”

“Where did you buy it?” Jane asks next.

“Heppner’s,” he replies.

“Can I take a look at it?” I ask Billy.

“Sure,” he says.

Jane hands the telepathic device over to me and I start look it over. I look at its “RNK” logo and see, in tiny print underneath, is written, “A Subsidiary of Ragnarok, Inc.”

Ragnarok, Inc.! I remember that name but I can’t pinpoint exactly where. I do recall, however, that it wasn’t in the best of circumstances. Meanwhile, Alice walks over to get a better look at the electronic telepathic device.

“Do you think I should try this thing out?” I ask Alice.

“You already have ESP so I don’t think you’ll be able to tell how well it works or not,” Alice answers.

“Oh yeah, right,” I realize. “Is there anybody else here besides Billy who could try it out?”

Alice looks over the room and answers, "I think this thing could be tried by…

[dougie_monty]

“Pete?”
I try my ESP on Pete. I figure we’ll get nowhere; he does all his thinking in Dutch.
“How about me?” asks Samantha. Alice agrees and hands the device to her.

Samantha follows Billy’s instructions on how to use the device.
She turns to Fred and says, “I think my Mom forgot her car keys—she left them in the wings a little while ago.”

Fred reacts. “That’s amazing! I heard that as a disembodied voice!”
A moment later Betty Galloway steps into the room. “Samantha,” she says, “I understand you know where my car keys are.”

“Here, Mom,” says Samantha. She hands a ring of keys to her mother.
Betty Galloway, George’s wife, usually appears at the Morpheus in a so-called “old lady’s dress,” dark blue with little white polka dots. She also wears her hair in a bouffant style and wears steel-rimed glasses, looking much like Mary Hatch’s mother in It’s a Wonderful Life. But for a woman of 62, Betty has a supple figure, like her daughter Samantha and her granddaughter Thalia.

Samantha tells her mother about the device that Billy let her use.
“Looks like an interesting gadget to me,” says Betty. She now holds it the way Samantha did. “I happen to know George forgot to give me the $40 in postage stamps I sent him for.”

We laugh slightly, but a few minutes later George Galloway strides into the room. He approaches Betty and embraces her slightly. “Here’s the stamps you sent me for, Hon,” he says. Betty thanks her husband and puts the stamps in her purse.
We all turn to face Billy Bradley. He looks down in becoming modesty. Jane is delighted with this demonstration and she hugs her son—who blushes deeply as his Mom pushes those big breasts against him. :o

While Billy savors our accolade, Pete removes the battery-access plate from the back of the Audio Brain Scanner, as I have named it.
“Interesting gadget,” Pete says, echoing Betty’s words. Pete is, among other things, an electronics engineer.

“I just found the serial number, the model number, and ‘Patent Applied For—Arenkay Electronic Manufactory, Hayward, California.’”
“I think Joe designed Arenkay’s building,” says Jane, with one arm still around her son. Billy still blushes slightly.

“I’m curious, Billy,” I ask. “Did you really go to Heppner’s looking for a device like that?”
“No,” he says. “I was going to shop for a CD player for Nancy.”

“Nancy—you mean Nancy Sharp, Billy?”
“Yes, Ms. Hoffmann,” Billy says, blushing again. “She’s my girlfriend.” :o

We all react with delight to this. Billy seems quite shy, and now acts as if he wants to hide his face behind his mother’s near arm.
“Billy,” says Pete, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow this and examine it.”

“Sure, Mr. Oranjeboom,” says Billy. Jane hugs her son again.
Pete leaves the room with the Audio Brain Scanner. Our group goes on to other matters.

Buster asks, “So you should have the reports from Jubbulpore tomorrow or the next day?”
“Absolutely,” says Fred.

Mrs. Galloway coos at Buster and strokes his fur. Buster apparently senses Betty is a cat person from way back.
“Oh—Fred,” says Alice, “we’d like to check the platinum ingot we got from Nicholas, for inscriptions in Sanskrit.”

“Well, Stan and Bob will be back later today,” says Fred. “You can take the ingot from the rack and they’ll do the séance bit on it right away. Mr. Parker will be here then.”
“We’d like to follow Mr. Galloway’s advice and take the platinum ingot to another assayer,” Alice continues. “I don’t know any offhand except for Loora’s place.”

“Try Thompson Assayers across town,” suggests Mr. Galloway.
“I can vouch for them,” says Jane, still sitting with Billy. “Phil Thompson is my brother.”

Now the other two Georges come in: Georgie Blonda with his “lady love” Maria Oranjeboom, and George Sharp with Anna Luglio, who has long since forgiven him. Young Mr. Sharp speaks to younger Mr. Blonda, who pulls a chair out at the large table for the little girl. George Sharp himself offers a chair to Anna. Then Grace Tolliver comes into the room, and George offers her a seat, too. She accepts it.

Grace says, “That Red Nicholas seems to have made quite an impression on Mr. George Sharp. Not only is he a proper gentleman—he offers to open doors and hold chairs for girls and women. He doesn’t insist.”
Fred comments on this aspect of Red Nicholas:

[NDP]

“Well, nobody ever accused Red Nicholas of being a charmless boor,” he explains, “but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep on eye on him. Sometimes it’s people like that who are the most dangerous.”

Somehow the topic of how people and things may not be what they seem makes me remember seeing “A Subsidiary of Ragnarok, Inc.” written in small print on the Audio Brain Scanner. I get an uneasy sensation when I do. Where do I remember Ragnarok, Inc. from? I ask Alice if she noticed the name on the device.

“I’m sorry,” she answers, “I didn’t. But you are right about Ragnarok, Inc. sounding familiar.”

“I wish I could remember where though,” I tell her. “I know it’s something I should know but I seem to have some kind of mental block.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Alice says. “I just can’t pinpoint the circumstances where I heard that name before. By the way, how do you feel about Red’s influence on George Sharp?”

“I’ve got mixed feelings about it,” I answer. “It’s great that he’s picked up on some of Red’s charm but, like Fred said, sometimes that can be cover for what a person’s really like.”

“Yes,” agrees Alice, “but sometimes a person can be a jerk on both the inside and the outside–like that crass guy Olivia Short was engaged to. What was his name? Henry … something?”

“Henry … Vernon-something?”

“Yes, his name was Henry and his last name did begin with a ‘V’ ut I don’t think it was Vernon. It might’ve been Henry Verne.”

“I thought his last name was longer.”

“Your right, it was. A rather colorful name too.”

“In what way? Colorful-interesting or colorful-color?”

“The latter. I just wish I could remember what color it was though.”

At that moment, our conversation is interrupted when Buster jumps up on the end table where Alice left her purse and accidentally knocks to the floor where its contents spill out. Alice, annoyed by mess made by the clumsy feline, kneels down to pick everything up but suddenly stops when she sees a lipstick applicator with its top off. The lipstick is a bright shade of red; not fire engine or candy apple or scarlet but-

“Vermillion,” she murmurs. “The name of Olivia’s fiance` was Henry Vermillion!”

“Right!” I say, "and he said he worked for a plastics company called-

“Ragnarok, Incorporated!” Alice exclaims. “And they made explosives too.”

“And a subsidiary of the company (RNK) makes the Audio Brain Scanner!” I state. “See, the pieces of the puzzle fit together now.”

“Except,” Alice quietly utters.

“Except what?” I ask.

“After figuring everything out, my sense of unease has gotten worse,” she explains. “What do we know about Ragnarok, Inc. anyway?”

“I did a corporate search on the company,” I inform her, “but I don’t remember finding out anything particularly suspicious.”

“Do you think Fred and the others in the DXM League might know something?” suggests Alice.

“They might,” I reply. And, with that, we walk over to where Fred is sitting and tell him about the whole connection between the Audio Brain Scanner, Henry Vermillion, and Ragnarok, Inc. He says to us…

[dougie_monty]

“I’ve heard of the company. In fact, I’d been reading some local newspapers from the Silicon Valley area in the last few months of 2001.”
“Go on,” says Alice.

“The CEO of Ragnarok, Inc., was an eccentric and secretive man with the odd name of Stony L. Companion. He had also been the local distributor for Cap’n Crunch® cereal, but he caused serious problems for his company about that time.
“It seems Ragnarok had some East Coast facilities in the World Trade Center—and then the tragedy of September 11 struck. Companion was not seen by anyone in the company for weeks after the attack and many people feared he had perished when the buildings collapsed. But on November 6, he was found relaxing on the beach in Curaçao, in the Netherlands Antilles.”

“Now that sounds inexcusably callous of him!” mutters Alice.
“Well, not only that—a few months later, Companion was seen at the casino in Monte Carlo, playing roulette. All in all, he was flourishing personally when many American businesses were in anguish.”

“Don’t tell me—let me guess,” I say. “Companion started RNK with the profits he turned under those circumstances.”
“You called it,” says Fred. “And CPO Rudolph Sparr, aka Henry Vermillion, was Companion’s chief engineer—in fact he had been an engineering specialist when he was in the Navy, designing and deploying electronic surveillance gear and detonation equipment. Since his episode with Olivia Short, of course, Sparr/Vermillion has been chastened. He came up with the design for the Audio Brain Scanner, as you call it, and if it sells he’ll receive patent royalties for it—all legal and proper.”

“What happened to Sparr while his CEO was luxuriating in Bimini, Curaçao, and Monaco?”
“Sparr was still in the Navy then. He had maintained contact with Companion, up until September 11. Naturally, Sparr had other obligations after that. Two months later, Sparr located Companion in Bimini. They exchanged some angry words on the phone. This eventually got to a courtroom. To make a long story shorter, Sparr/Vermillion was awarded a controlling interest in Arenkay in Hayward. Inexplicably, he maintained contact with Companion until the CEO was hospitalized six months ago with prostate cancer.”

“That’s awful,” comments Alice.
“To sum it up, continues Fred, “The company officers and the shareholders’ organization took most of Companion’s power away, along with the bulk of his company assets. Ragnarok did not have a government contract—and in late 2001, any company manufacturing explosives was held in general suspicion.”

“Where is Companion now?” I ask.
“He’s semi-invalid, staying in his villa in La Jolla, near San Diego. He’s nominal president of the company, but Ragnarok is now operated by more conscientious people.”

I look in a dictionary and find that Ragnarok means “gods’ fate” in Old Norse. Composer Richard Wagner mistook the word for “dusk of the gods” and rendered it into German as Götterdämmerung. I tell Fred and Alice, “One of my cousins lived with us in the early 80s. He liked to listen to rock groups such as Pink Floyd and Van Halen. I asked him if he knew what Götterdämmerung meant and he said it sounded like a noise a toilet makes when it doesn’t work right.” Fred and Alice laugh.
We’re finished for now on the subject of Ragnarok and its related matters.

“One more thing,” says Fred. “I understand you want to sell that platinum ingot—but remember, DeMoss and Chester want to buy it.”
“We know,” says Alice. “We were going to take it to Thompson Assayers, across town, but we still have to translate that Sanskrit inscription on it and determine whether that gives the ingot value beyond the precious metal itself.”

Jane Bradley speaks up. “My brother Phil [Thompson] owns 51% of the company. Alfred DeMoss and Yancy Chester together own the other 49%.”
“Oh, I see,” says Fred.

Jane continues. “Phil told me about a website that quotes current prices of precious metals. He said platinum is now going for $422 per troy ounce. So, in any case, that 500-ounce ingot would bring you [Alice and me] at least $200,000!” :eek:
We’re delighted at this, of course.

I also make a mental note to ask Bonnie Wyman, giddy and garrulous as she may be, about Ragnarok, partly because of her Scandinavian ancestry.
Now Anna Luglio approaches, with Jeanette, who is a second cousin of Anna’s dad Tomasso. They want to discuss Red Nicholas’ influence on George Sharp, with whom Anna has reconciled; and what Anna’s grandparents Ferruccio and Sofia Luglio have told her about it.

[NDP]

It seems they have rather mixed feelings about Red Nicholas.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” Anna begins, “I mean our family owes a lot to Red Nicholas and are eternally grateful for all that he’s done but I talked to my grandparents about him and they told me they get a very spooky vibe from him.”

“I didn’t know your grandparents used such hip lingo,” Alice comments.

“Well, they didn’t say that way,” Anna explains, “I guess I was just putting it in my words.”

“Did they have much contact with Red when he was down below?” I ask.

“Not directly,” Anna answers. “Pretty much everything they know about Red Nicholas is from what my Great Grandfather Federico told them.”

“You mentioned they got a ‘creepy vibe’ from Red,” Alice inquires. “How exactly did they?”

“They said they just had some vague sense that Red had some sort of secret knowledge about the universe that, if revealed to anyone else, would cause people’s brains to melt,” Anna informs us.

“I take it the part about people’s brains melting is again your wording of what your grandparents said,” I tell Anna.

“No, that’s exactly what they said,” she replies. “Anyway, they also said that Federico told them that Red Nicholas also had some sort of powers beyond that of ordinary men but that Red chose not to use them most of the time.”

“Of course you realize what Federico and your grandparents said about Red could be greatly exaggerated for the sake of telling a better story,” I explain.

“Maybe,” she states, “but we all saw what he did when he got together with George and I on that magic trick. I can’t figure out how they did it and I was in the middle of it. I’m not scared of the old guy or anything but I am glad he’s on our family’s side and not someone else’s.”

“But what about his influence on George Sharp?” Alice asks.

“That’s an interesting story too,” Jeanette answers. "It seems…

[dougie_monty]

“Red apparently saw George Alexander Sharp as his successor. Let’s face it—when you reach the age of 175 years you don’t expect to hang around much longer.”
“Go on,” I say.

“Red had married in 1849 and his children reached adolescence around the time of the Civil War. He didn’t have much contact with them after the Morpheus was first built. He went through a long period of grief when he found that all four of his children, none of whom had had contact with him since 1875, died without issue.”
“What about his wife?” asks Jeanette.

“His wife—born with the name of Patience Pound—died in 1880 when they were traveling in Europe, of a disease no one has identified to this day. She was buried in Dublin, of all places.”
“So, with no natural son or daughter, or other descendant, Red has designated George Sharp as his successor, ” I say.

“Well, that was the original plan,” says Anna. “But after that hat trick [Anna blushes here], my grandparents wrote a letter to him expressing their disappointment. When Mrs. Sharp told Red, in that phone conversation, about George performing the trick before his nephew’s young classmates, Mr. Nicholas started having second thoughts. Red did, after all, specifically instruct George to perform the ‘nude Anna’ trick in front of a small group of adults, including his own parents. And he was to choose his nephew Jack II as the ‘volunteer’ whom he supposedly changed into me, coming up out of the top hat.”

“So if Red is teaching George such courtesy and charity towards others, it’s an expression of Nicholas’ remorse,” Alice comments.
“Very likely,” says Miss Luglio. “I was one of the very first people George tried to make amends with.”

“So to sum it up,” I say, “Red wants to pass his body of knowledge on to a member of the younger generation, but he has had to deal with George’s defiant nature.”
“That’s it,” says Anna. “You can’t teach someone who defies you.”

“Why didn’t Red teach his tricks to Claudia—his great-grand-niece?” asks Jeanette.
“There aren’t very many deaf-mute magicians around,” answers Anna.

“Well, that’s true,” says Jeanette.
Mr. Galloway speaks now. “It may be a good idea to send a small group down to talk to Nicholas about this.

“Specifically, I would suggest Dr. Clouse, Anna, Jeanette, Claudia, and Susan Bradley to interpret for Claudia. Oh—and let’s not forget George Sharp.”
“I’ll talk to Laura and Eloise,” says Jane. “I think they’ll agree to it.”

“Speaking of the Sharps,” Mr. Galloway asks, “what became of Helen and Irwin after that gender-switch trick?”
Jane says, “I was talking with Eloise about that. She said that when those kids became ‘Henry’ and ‘Irene,’ for a short time, each one had an insight into the thoughts of the opposite sex. They’ve been discussing this and preparing an article they’d like to submit to Psychology Today.”

“That’s a good idea!” says Jeanette. “I’d like to meet with them about that. I’ve written articles for NOW, after all. I’ll talk to Eloise and get some input from Grace and Samantha. At least some good will come from the matter.”
We’ve finished with this matter for now. The meeting breaks up. Alice and I go into the lounge, for crackers and iced tea. Fred, Stan Brown, and Buster join us. The big orange tabby walks away from an empty cream bowl, so I know he has had lunch. He sits on the table. Alice and I sit close together. We fill Fred in about the meeting with Anna, but he wants to discuss something else.

“One thing I’m puzzled about,” he says. “Those two guys—DeMoss and Chester—who wanted to buy an ingot with an inscription in Sanskrit—they were seeking a silver ingot, you know.”
“Yes, we know,” says Alice. “But we aren’t sure whether the Sanskrit-inscribed ingot is silver or platinum either. In any case we intend to sell that platinum ingot we own, to Jane’s brother’s company.” Fred, of course, knows how much money Alice and I would receive for it.

He says, “It’s possible that the inscribed ingot isn’t even one of yours, in fact, let alone platinum instead of silver. But we should go to the vault in the upper basement, to check it out. Mr. Sharp’s sturdy slide-out rack makes it easier to check individual ingots. And bring an ultraviolet light—it’ll make any inscription easier to read.”

Fred, Stan, Bob Blonda, Alice, and I go to the vault. Buster scurries along, to watch, and sits on a chair nearby. Stan and Bob comment that they plan to use the money they get from selling their ingots and gems, to fund their kids’ college education. We inspect all the ingots, silver and platinum (the platinum ingots are a little heavier and smaller, and stamped “Pt” to indicate that they are platinum); we even check out those bearing the mangled Shakespeare quote. All of the ingots bear the owner’s name(s) in grease pencil, as written on the side by Alice or me.

[NDP]

“Is this all there is?” I ask Fred.

“I fairly sure we’ve checked out all them,” he responds. “So far I haven’t seen the ingot that DeMoss and Chester want.”

“I haven’t either,” adds Stan. “I’m beginning to think that ingot wasn’t part of the treasure.”

“Well, who else would have it?” asks Alice. “And how would DeMoss and Chester get the idea that it was part of the treasure hidden underneath the Morpheus?”

“Good questions,” Fred comments. “But I can’t answer them right now. Will have to do some more reseach and ask Red himself about the ingot in question.”

“Do you think he’ll give us a straight answer?” I ask.

“He might,” Fred says. “Or, he might not. In any case, we obviously won’t know for sure until we ask him.”

We go back upstairs to the lounge where we’re all a bit disappointed about the fruitless search for the ingot. Then, an idea occurs to me.

“Do you think Leo could help us on this?” I ask.

“He could–if he were here,” Fred answers. “He had to go to Utica, New York. It seems as though there was an outbreak of Funny Face sightings at an A&P there.”

“Funny Face?” a curious Alice queries. “What was that?”

“Funny Face was Pillsbury’s answer to Kool-Aid in the 60’s,” I reply. “It was this instant fruit-flavored pre-sweetened drink mix that had cartoons of goofy-looking characters on their packages. I never really drank it that often (I was more of a Wyler’s kid) but I vaguely remember they had to change their Chinese Cherry and Injun Orange characters because they were racially insensitive.”

“The things you miss when you’re born in England,” Alice comments. “By the way, do you know when Leo’s going to be back?”

“He said he didn’t know how long it would take,” Fred states. “Sometimes these defunct products are pretty stubborn about going back.”

As if on cue, a bottle of Nesbitt’s Pink Lemon Drink suddenly falls out of the pop machine. We look at the bottle for a second.

“Leo’s got quite a workload for a dead guy,” I comment.

We then hear footsteps approaching the lounge. We turn toward the doorway and see…

[dougie_monty]

James Parker and Joan Breastly. He wears a business suit; she wears a royal-blue skirt and bright white sleeveless blouse. She walks in with a swagger almost as flamboyant as Jeanette’s. Her long red hair reaches to her waist.
“We understand you intend to question Nicholas about some things,” Parker says.

“We do indeed, Mr. Parker,” says Fred. “Red has been teaching George Sharp—Eloise’s son—a number of things, including magic tricks, gentlemanly manners—and cosmic disruption.”
“We thought he might do such things,” says Parker. “What particular ‘cosmic disruption’ did George Sharp carry out?”

“He changed things so that his next-younger siblings were Henry and Irene instead of Helen and Irwin,” I say. “Eloise told us at the time that she didn’t have kids named Helen or Irwin, and that she knew nothing about George performing any magic tricks, let alone controversial ones.”
“How long did that last?” Breastly asks.

“Not long,” I say. “I checked some of my personal records that mentioned Helen and Irwin. Shortly after that, the two kids appeared normally; I figured that if George’s ‘disruption’ were complete, all my records would have changed too.”
“Perhaps your memory would have changed as well,” says Parker.

“I know your benefit and Ms. McManus’ wedding are about due,” Parker continues. “What else is going on?”
“Well,” says Alice, “We’re searching for an ingot marked with an inscription in Sanskrit. We looked in the vault here in the Morpheus but found no such ingot—”

Fred suddenly speaks up. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of this before?” He calls Jack and Eloise into the room.
“Missus Sharp, don’t you have some of the silver and platinum ingots in the vault at home?”

“Certainly,” says Eloise. “So you didn’t find the ingot you wanted here?”
“No,” say Alice and I in unison.

“Well, then, it’s most likely at home. Jack and I haven’t had anyone but you two sell any ingots yet.”
“I hired some Pinkerton people to keep watch on the mansion,” Jack says. I know; they’ve met our entire group.

“Well, we should go and check the vault there for the ingot we want,” says Alice. She and I embrace briefly before she leaves, with Fred, Eloise, Stan, and Bob Blonda.
Now Parker asks, “Who did you want to have go down into the Hellmouth to talk to Nicholas?”

“Dr. Laura Clouse, Anna Luglio, Jeanette Strong, Claudia Hart, and Susan Bradley—to interpret for Claudia. And, of course, George Sharp and me,” I say.
“I’ll come with you,” says Parker. “Ms. Breastly will remain by the elevator, with Mr. Sharp [Jack]. Buster, you stay here.” Buster acknowledges.

“Have you received the package from Lal Thakkar in Jubbulpore?” asks Parker.
“Not yet, but it’s due today or tomorrow,” says Jack.

“Well, when you get it, go to Bradford Stationers and make one copy of each page—we’ll want a full record of the reports on Nicholas’ activities in India,” says Parker.

“Oh—one more thing. ______, we know, of course, you’ve been receiving cryptic envelopes with various translations of the quote from The Tempest. I was present, of course, when Messrs. Brown and Blonda resumed the séance over that ingot and I heard that Nicholas authorized the silversmith ‘Ggrvmp’—Gregory Rimpau—to ‘mangle’ the Shakespeare quote, as you say. I want to go down into the cavern with you, because I intend to ask him right out, why he ordered the quote changed that way.”

“I understand you’ve made specific comments about Nicholas teaching George courtesy and charity,” says Ms. Breastly.
“I wish he had picked up on that when his mother and I tried to each him,” mutters Jack. :rolleyes:

“And you believe Red had an ulterior motive in doing that?” asks Joan.
“It seems likely,” says Jack.

“We’ll wait and see,” says Parker.
I get a telepathic message from Alice, with Fred, Stan, Bob, and Eloise at the Sharps’ place. We found a silver ingot with a Sanskrit inscription, she thinks to me.

That’s great, Honey, I respond. We’re going to talk to Nicholas with Parker and Breastly.
“Tell them I’ll keep in touch, Luv, says Alice.

Now our group dresses like Indiana Jones again, to visit Nicholas. He has made impressive changes to the Hellmouth; much of it is vegetable farmland now. He greets our group with two Morlocks, and Al the Alien. He speaks briefly with Claudia (through Susan), Jeanette, and Anna. Now Parker steps forward and introduces himself.

[dougie_monty]

I meant to say that Jack and Eloise tried to teach manners to their son George.

[NDP]

[Note: entry late due to technical difficulties.]

“Ah, so the warden finally meets his prisoner,” Red comments. “What brings you down here?”

“We want to talk to you about some things,” says Parker.

“Odd you should mention that,” Red responds with mild grin, “I want to talk to you about some things myself. But, you can go first.”

“Well, first off, we keep coming across this misquote from Shakespeare’s The Tempest,” I tell him.

“‘We are the dreams stuff is made of?’” Red answers. “And yes, I know it’s wrong.”

“We figured that,” Parker says. “What we really want to know is why that altered quote is written or inscribed in so many places.”

“And what does it exactly mean anyway?” I add.

After I ask this, Red looks at me with an ironic glint in his eyes. He then hesitates a moment before answering us. During this short silent time, I notice he’s carrying a shoebox full of small mechanical parts: tiny springs, gears, shafts, and dials.

“It’s a personal variation on Shakespeare’s quote that was–and still is–particulary relevant to my situation,” Red finally answers.

“And?” Parker inquires.

“Well, it’s not something that can be explained easily,” Red coyly explains. “In fact, I think most people would find its meaning extremely upsetting.”

“Will you cut the bullshit!” Parker testily orders.

“I’m just looking out for other people’s welfare,” says the old man. “Although, I’m quite sure some of your DXM superiors have a pretty good idea what the quote means. Also, at least one of you here is soon going to know because the meaning of that quote will affect that person directly.”

I turn my ESP on Red Nicholas. I get nothing but static. Obviously, he’s several steps ahead of us.

“Now, what you also want to know about is that silver ingot inscribed in Sanskrit that DeMoss and Chester want,” Red says changing the subject.

“Yes, that’s true,” Dr. Clouse states. “How did you know?”

“I can know quite a bit if I want to,” Red replies with a smirk… “Anyway, if those fools DeMoss and Chester get that ingot, they are headed down the same road to ruin that Sikes-Potter and Lemoyne followed. They have no idea of what they’re getting into.”

“So we should keep it from them at all costs,” I say.

“Exactly,” Red answers. “Do you want to know why?”

“Yes, of course,” I exclaim “Tell us.”

"Well…

[dougie_monty]

“You’ve probably guessed that Alfred DeMoss and Yancy Chester are connected to a ‘residual’ organization called Threshold—composed of former minions of Lemoyne and Sikes-Potter.”
I nod. “That occurred to me right away.”

“Well,” says Red, “Their aim is to use that message in Sanskrit—which is not the mangled Shakespeare quote, but is considerably longer—in a perverted PR campaign of sorts.”
“A propaganda message,” says Parker.

“That’s it,” replies Red. “Once they can render the message into English, they intend to use it in a campaign to mislead others—some into becoming minions of theirs, as it was with Pula Kinlai’s connection to Lemoyne and Minerva Calley’s to Sikes-Potter…”
Jeanette mulls this over. She steps forward, her body undulating beneath her khaki shirt, which is unbuttoned almost to the waist due to the warm day, and her khaki shorts.

“Is the mere existence of the Sanskrit message, the potential danger?”
No,” says Red. “Just that DeMoss and Chester want to have it in English.”

Now Parker pulls me aside.
“You should get in touch with Ms. Terwilliger right away,” he says. “Get rubbings and photographs, or both, of the embossed Sanskrit message, then have the ingot melted and recast.” I agree to this.

I contact Alice telepathically. Of course, she is still at the Sharps’ place.
*Hi, Honey, it’s me.

Oh, hi, _______. Fred and I have the silver ingot on a cart—we’re ready to bring it over.
Alice, we’re down in the Hellmouth with Parker and Breastly. Red told us that DeMoss and Chester want to use that Sanskrit message in a propaganda campaign in order to maneuver themselves into power the way Lemoyne and Sikes-Potter were.*

Alice pauses.
*That sounds strange, but no more so than the messages we have encountered so far.

Well, Parker wants you to get some rubbings and photographs of the ingot, showing the message—then we’re to have the ingot melted down and recast.
My Mum knows a mining engineer we can have do that for us—and I’ll talk to Ed Fukushima too.*

I think to ask, “Who does the Sanskrit ingot belong to?”
*Bob and Mary Blonda. They want to use the money they get, to save for April’s college education.

Oh—Alice, please have Stan and Bob do the séance shtick before we take the ingot anywhere. Although most likely it was cast that way by the silversmith they called “Ggrvmp.” I’ll check that handwritten letter we found, to see what Nicholas asked him to do.*
Alice pauses again.

*They’re doing that right now. They’ll give you and Mr. Parker their findings.
Alice, you can write Sanskrit, can’t you?

Yes, I can.

I have an idea.
I see what you mean, Luv. I’ll do that right away. We’ll need to ask Mr. Fukushima to do the embossing for us. We can pay him to work with my Mum’s acquaintance.

We’ll be at the mansion later, Alice, Honey.
I love you, _______.

I love you, Alice. I’ll see you soon. *
I sigh happily. I tell Parker, who was not listening in, about the plans Alice and I made. He smiles. “We should go over to the Sharps’ to discuss this with Alice, Fred, and Messrs. Brown and Blonda,” he says.

Now we discuss, briefly, the matter of George Sharp and the “tutoring” he has had from Nicholas, who points out that there is nothing wrong with having a courtly manner. “Andy and Artie didn’t turn evil after taking my dares,” he points out.
“Now, Mr. Nicholas,” says Parker with a tinge of impatience, “I’d like you to explain the mangled Shakespeare quote!”

Red sighs and says, “I’ve been stalling so I could phrase it right. When I flourished in the wake of the Gold Rush, I indulged in materialism to the fullest—you know about my wicca and luxurious digs and such. The revised phrase was my personal comment on ‘stuff’—material wealth—as aims and results of the dreams and ambitions people have. It didn’t work for me so well, and I know that neither Sikes-Potter nor Lemoyne succeeded in fulfilling their dreams, no matter how much ‘stuff’ they had.”
“And the messages I kept getting?” I ask.

“Dennis Walsh and others were messing with your head,” says Red. “That’s their aim—to scare you or drive you insane.”
“And Walsh and his ilk are connected with DeMoss and Chester…it all falls into place now,” I conclude.

Although we don’t assume Nicholas has told us the whole story, or that his analysis is accurate or sincere, we’re satisfied for the moment. We may, in fact, return to the cavern to ask Red more about this—especially after we read his handwritten letter to the silversmith “Ggrvmp.”
We bid him good-by and return up through the shaft, out of the Hellmouth cavern. We close it up and go back to the lounge for a snack.

Then we put on our regular clothes—Jeanette, after her turn in the shower, dons a crimson flannel dress with pumps to match—we return en masse to the Sharp mansion, with Buster, Parker, and Breastly accompanying us. Fred greets us at the door and we go into the kitchen, where we will meet with Alice, Fred, Bob Blonda, Stan Brown—and Frannie Sharp, who has finished her photography.

[NDP]

“How did it go?” Alice inquires.

“Generally okay,” I answer. “As I told you, we did find out why DeMoss and Chester are so eager to find that ingot.”

“And the deliberate misquote from Shakespeare?”

“Red said it had to do with how he found out the material trappings of wealth were hollow. However, I think that might be only a secondary explanation at best. I don’t know about the others but I’m not totally satisfied with his answer.”

“So are you going to delve into the matter a bit more?”

“We’ll do it later.”

I sigh when I say that. Red said that the real meaning of the quote had the potential to disturb a lot of people. I don’t think finding out that the gaudy trinkets and perks of wealth don’t really mean a lot in the grand scheme of things would necessarily shock humanity.

“How did the photos turn out?” I ask Alice.

“We were just going to talk to you about that,” Alice says as motions for Frannie to join our conversation.

“Some interesting things happened during the photo session,” Frannie tells me. She’s carrying a stack of about 25 photos under her arm.

“Take a look at this one,” Frannie says as holds a photo in front of my face. Within less than a second, my eyes pop out in astonishment. It seems…

[dougie_monty]

The configuration of words and phrases in Sanskrit, although in Devanagari script, seems to show a skull, a knife, and the phrase in English “immediate doom.” :eek:
“And the other prints—well, see for yourself,” says Frannie.

In other prints, the ingot is different colors—green, blue, brown, orange, and so on—and appears pointing in different directions.
“This may sound like a stupid question, Frannie,” I say, “But did you move the ingot at all while you were photographing it?”

“Move it?” she asks. I didn’t get within five feet of it!”
We mull this over. We have a silver ingot whose message in Sanskrit shows a pattern of pictures and letters rather than a series of straight lines. And its image comes out in different colors and positions in other prints.

We look at the inscription in other prints. (Frannie’s prints are about 17x22 in size.)
With one exception, the bizarre inscription is in the same pattern in all the prints. The one exception is an image of the ingot in bright red, surrounded by black. (Shades of Poe’s story “Masque of the Red Death”!)

I glance at the ingot itself. It just sits there on the heavy marble table where Frannie photographed it, glistening in the light coming in through the big picture window.
“Did you get rubbings?” I ask Alice.

“Yes, I did,” she says. She hands me three sheets of high-quality drawing paper they used. Stan did the rubbing after Frannie applied artist’s charcoal to get an image; Bob held the ingot still.
All the rubbings show the same image—the Sanskrit lettering in orderly rows, not in any kind of pattern.

“This gets weirder by the minute!” I exclaim.
Frannie looks at the rubbings. We turn to see if her camera equipment appears to be spooked.
Alice quips, “Maybe it’s possessed by demons—we should have Father Abromowitz exorcise it!”

Suddenly we all hear a loud, agonized scream—as if Alice’s statement itself has caused an exorcism! Then all is quiet again.
Now we hear a familiar clank of chains. Leo has joined us.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” the ghost says. “That manifestation of Funny-Face drink mixes went all the way back to 1967! And I was also assailed by re-appearances of the board games Bridg-It and Shmess; a raisin-flake cereal advertised by Jim Backus; New Red Kettle soup mixes; and the wide-mouth jar of ketchup Heinz introduced in 1967. It’s been a busy week—and I hardly wandered out of upstate New York.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask you to deal with this ingot, Leo,” I say.

“What? Oh, I see…” Leo looks at the ingot, which sure looks innocuous on the marble tabletop.
“You may not believe this,” he adds, “but after what I did around Utica, this is child’s play.”

Leo scrutinizes the ingot. Frannie spreads the bizarre prints out for him. “I’d say you’ve hit pay dirt,” he says. “Did anything occur here besides the photography session?”
“Well, we made rubbings of the ingot’s inscription; Stan Brown and Bob Blonda did a time-travel séance; and when I mentioned Father Abromowitz, we heard a ‘blood-curdling scream.’”

Leo nods. “That happens all the time,” he says. “You must have had a demon spooking Frannie’s camera. You didn’t feel anything strange yourself, Miss Sharp?”
Frannie shakes her head and shrugs.

“Your mention of Abromowitz must have expelled one hum-dinger of a demon!” Leo comments.
“That’s what we were concerned about in the first place—that demonic possession was involved,” says Parker. “That’s why we had Fred Moreland warn you all.”

“What about the séance?” I ask.
“I thought you’d never ask,” says Stan, a rock-ribbed Missouri Methodist. He and the Anglican Bob Blonda approach, with text written on a legal pad in Cornish and English, and tell us what they found.

[NDP]

“Judging from what we learned during the seance, those weren’t just instructions Nicholas was giving to the silversmith, they were incantations,” Bob explains.

“Incantations?” I say. “For what purpose?”

“To attract demons to some of the ingots,” Stan informs us. “This was Red’s way of booby-trapping them so anybody who stole one of them and tried to melt them down would suffer dire consequences.”

“No wonder Nicholas said DeMoss and Chester didn’t know what they were getting into by trying to obtain that ingot,” I comment.

“Oh, that’s only part of the story,” Stan continues. “Apparently inside the ingots’ interior are powers and information that must be kept secret at all costs. That’s the real reason why the demons are guarding them.”

“Did you happen to notice Red saying anything about these secrets?” Alice inquires.

“No, we didn’t,” Bob answers. “Red was just real general about what was inside the ingots. He just said what inside was dangerous and had the potential to shake the world to its very core if it got out.”

“Did you find out anything else about the silversmith?” I ask. “You know … Ggrvmp or whatever he was called.”

“Yes, we did,” Stan replies. "Ggrvmp was …

[dougie_monty]

“…a pioneer miner, metallurgist, and silversmith whose real name was Gregory Wuffli Rimpau. He was born in Batavia in the Dutch East Indies, or as it is now known, Djakarta, Indonesia. He came from a family of missionaries and educators. His father Woodward Rimpau was a professor of anthropology in the main college in Batavia, and his mother was a Creole woman—looked sort of like Aunt Jemima—who had been born in St. Pierre, on Martinique in the West Indies.”

“Sounds like an odd assortment,” I say. “A dignified, educated father and a mother from the West Indies—I assume there was something distinctive about her.”
“There was,” Stan continues. “She was, in a sense, a voodoo high priestess. She had been in Curaçao and was shanghaied by a Dutch ship captain, who took her and a few dozen other women—for obvious reasons—to Batavia. She escaped and helped her friends get away, too. Woodward Rimpau met her and eventually they got married.”

“What happened to the ship captain who had the woman abducted?” Alice asks, snuggling up to me. “And what was the woman’s name?”
“Her name was Zuzinda Jones,” Stan says. “As for the ship captain—well, if you ever go to St. Pierre on Martinique, ask for the Shrine of Madame Zoozoo and you may see the ship captain’s shrunken head!” :eek:

We all snort at this.
“What was the name of the ship captain?” asks Frannie, totally absorbed.

“Ezekiel Nicholas.”
This startles all of us!

I say, “I think I’ll send an e-mail to my sister Janet in Utah. Let’s see if there is a connection between the ship captain and our 175-year-old guest at the Morpheus.”
Leo suddenly says, “Oveja negra!”

This puzzles us.
“Oveja negra?” asks Alice, now sitting on my lap. “That’s ‘black sheep’ in Spanish. Do you mean that Captain Ezekiel was the ‘black sheep’ in Red Nicholas’ family?”

We all laugh knowingly at this, even Leo. Again, Jeanette’s big boobs wobble wildly under her flannel dress—and, with some embarrassment, she covers the buxom bulges with her hands. :o
I excuse myself and go to use the computer in Jack’s library. I kiss Alice just before I leave the room; the others react.

I send this e-mail to Janet:
*Dear Janet:

We’re researching the history of a nineteenth-century California magnate named Richard Nathaniel Nicholas, born in 1826 in New York City. He grew up in the Yunan Province of China. He also ran businesses from British India.
We’re trying to connect him with a ship captain named Ezekiel Nicholas who commanded ships for the Dutch East Indies Company, but also traveled to the Netherlands Antilles. Could you find out if they are related? Thanks very much.
_______*

I send this off to Janet. (I use the Sharps’ e-mail address since I use their equipment most of the time; Janet knows this.)

Back in the kitchen, Alice sits down with me and shows me a large portfolio, including the handwritten letter from “Ggrvmp” that had been left at Sam Chu Lin’s by Letitia Lemoyne Frazier. (We’ve already checked it out for booby traps; it’s clean.)
Now Sol Feldman, the jeweler to whom we sold the diamonds, visits. He looks something like Frank Cady, who played Sam Drucker on Petticoat Junction. He is an expert on gems and precious metals. He speaks in a strong New York accent, and I wonder if he has any connection with Sylvia Goldstein.

“I’ve heard the stories about Red Nicholas, supposedly being still alive,” Feldman says. “Of course, I tend to dismiss most of this as urban legends of a sort.”
We don’t react visibly to this.

Feldman examines the ingot. “This looks as if it was cast around 1885—I see signs of the technique. There was a silversmith named Rimpau, who had been in Nevada, who cast ingots like this.” If Feldman notices the Sanskrit inscription, he doesn’t say so.
Louise Brown, Eloise Sharp, and Jane Bradley join us. I sense that with their mental powers they could detect anything untoward in the ingot—if such existed. They declare it to be just pure silver.

Now Fred brings in a delivery from Federal Express. It’s an 8x8x8 box from Jubbulpore, India. Alice and I give it the ESP treatment: It’s just a plain laser-printed manuscript, which I assume Lal Thakkar prepared for us (perhaps the original was no longer easily legible). Nothing more. We’ll check it out.
Meanwhile, Eloise’s youngest son Owen has the computer on in the library. I hear the familiar voice say, “You’ve got mail!”

I go into the library and ask Owen if I may check it out; he obliges. Sure enough, Janet has sent me a reply to my e-mail:

[NDP]

*Greetings Brother ____!

Just researched your question about whether Richard Nathaniel Nicholas and Ezekiel Nicholas were related and, in the process, came across some pretty interesting info.

With regards to your question, yes–Richard Nathaniel Nicholas and Ezekiel Nicholas are related. They’re cousins (sort of–I’ll explain later). Ezekiel Nicholas was born in Portsmouth, NH in 1817 to Enoch and Abigail Nicholas. Enoch, in turn, was born in 1797 to Jacob and Mary Nicholas who, in 1802, had another son named Nathaniel. Nathaniel, of course, is Richard Nicholas’ father.

After growing up in Portsmouth, Nathaniel left to become a Christian missionary. However, before he and his wife left for China, they lived for a short time in New York where, in 1826, they adopted an orphaned baby of unknown parentage and named him Richard. (Thus, Richard Nicholas and Ezekiel were technically not cousins in the “blood” sense.)

As for Enoch, he was a quiet type who pretty much remained in Portsmouth all his life while working as a carpenter and, later, a shipbuilder. Ezekiel, on the other hand, seemed to be in trouble the second he got out of the womb. When he was 14, he got a job as a cabin boy and left Portsmouth for good–apparently one step ahead of the law. From there, he advanced through the ranks until he became a ship’s captain at age 25. Needless to say, however, much of his business involved the transport and sale of goods and services that were–to say the least–morally and legally questionable.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now. I might have some more info to send you later.

Yours,
Janet*

After reading this, I print out Janet’s reply. I’m sure everyone in the DXM will want to read this. I walk back to the kitchen where Fred and Alice have been pouring over the documents shipped from Jubbulpore.

“Find out anything interesting?” Alice asks.

“Yes, I did,” I answer and hand Alice the printed e-mail.

“We’ve come across a lot of interesting stuff too,” Fred says. "For one thing…

[dougie_monty]

“According to what Lal Thakkar has told us, Richard and Ezekiel made common cause in Asia in the 19th Century. Before the original Morpheus was built, Red spent most of his time in China or India. His mother, Thakkar says, died when he was about 19; she apparently contracted smallpox.

“Richard started out pretty much as a coolie, but by the time his brother Ezekiel met him in India, Richard had a thriving business in tea, jade, silk, spices—and opium. Ever hear of the ‘Opium War’? Opium was produced in India at that time as well as in China. Richard’s business started in what is now the Indian State of Uttar Pradesh. He and Ezekiel expanded their operation into the vicinity of Jubbulpore, where they got into hot water with the British government and the local rulers.
“Richard and Ezekiel parted ways after that first brush with the law, and never saw each other again. Ezekiel became a fugitive from the British government in India, and fled to Batavia, where he hired on with the Dutch East Indies Company.

“By the time Richard returned to the States, about 1851, says Thakkar, he was quite well off. And, of course, we know he struck it rich in the California goldfields. But here’s the best part:”
“Go on,” we say to Fred. Alice sits on my lap again.

“You already know that British agents came here after Red, and some of them still lie buried beneath the Morpheus. But Thakkar said that the name of the British Governor of the local province where Red and Ezekiel were arrested—was Percival Quentin Sikes-Potter!” :eek:
“Well, that might explain why Henry Sikes-Potter’s minions tried so hard to get to Red,” says Alice. “In a sense, they’re trying to carry out an order issued by an ancestor of their employer.”

“Obviously they’re not fazed by the replacement of the British colonial government by the government of India in 1947, nor by any applicable stature of limitations,” I comment.
Fred has read only a few pages of Thakkar’s manuscript so far.

He says, “I’ve barely scratched the surface. However, it seems clear that Nicholas—Red and Ezekiel—made themselves personae non gratae with the governments of at least two countries in Asia in the 19th Century; that Richard was thriving, and exploring Hinduism, before his California gold strike; that there are people living today who have a vendetta against him; and so on. Nobody outside our group at the Morpheus, of course, knows where Nicholas is—unless you count the former Hellmouth critters who have long since returned to other places in the cosmos—and, possibly, Minerva Calley and her hired guns.”

The Oranjebooms now appear, together, in the room. Cornelis’ young wife, Hannah, whose pregnancy is starting to show, sits in a chair, flanked by her husband and her mother-in-law, Loora. Pete sits nearby. The girls Katrina and Maria sit with their boyfriends, Mary Blonda’s sons Bobby and Georgie.
Some others come into the room, including Gwen Berry, April Blonda, Professor Fields, and Salbert. Buster comes in too, and sits patiently on a table near Loora’s girls, who coo over him the way they do over Mary’s boys. April approaches Loora’s son Jan.

“I’ve been jilted,” Gwen says to Alice and me, in mock grief. “Seriously, I pointed out to Jan that I’m at least ten years older than he is.” But she steps over to Jan and kisses him, as she says, “I got him a part-time job with a local theatrical agency—Edwards & Pell.”
Jeanette nods. “I’ve heard of them,” she says. “He’s getting a good start in the field.” Jan smiles modestly.

Professor Fields tells Alice and me that Mr. Bartholomew will want Alice and me to go to his office soon, to give sworn depositions for the class action Aalto v. Lemoyne, involving the collapsed medical building. Also to participate is Lemoyne’s new lawyer, an unknown named Lee Pitt.
Now Pete and Loora, happy that their son Jan is courting a girl—April—closer to him in age (he’s 16, she’s 14) speak up.

They heard what we said about Red and Ezekiel’s life in Asia—and what happened to Ezekiel on Martinique.
“You know that Pete and I have the power of sorcery,” she says. “It’s interesting you should mention the silversmith called ‘Ggrvmp’ and the woman called ‘Madame Zoozoo’ in the Netherlands Antilles. The Oranjebooms and the Vos family [Loora’s parents] have connections in the West Indies.” (I figured as much.)

“Go on,” Alice says.

[NDP]

“Well, we had member of our families who worked for the Dutch colonial government,” Loora states. “They also used to own quite a bit of property there.”

“Did they have large plantations of tobacco or bananas?” I ask.

“They really didn’t have much of anything,” she answers. “You see, the soil in the Antilles is too poor to support any large-scale plantation crops like sugar beets or tobacco. Our families did try to make a go at it but lost a lot of money each time. Most of the time, the land sat vacant and unused.”

“So how do Ggrvmp and Madame Zoozoo enter into the picture?” Alice inquires.

“Sometime around 1905, my family sold most of their land in the Dutch Antilles to a newly retired silversmith named Gregory Wuffli Rimpau–a.k.a ‘Ggrvmp’. He also bought a good chunk of the Oranjebooms’ holdings. At the time of the sale, he was accompanied by his elderly mother Zuzinda who had must moved from St. Pierre. (Of course at the time, neither one of our family’s were aware that Zuzinda was also known as Madame Zoozoo. I think they assumed Rimpau just wanted to buy the property to build a retirement house for himself, his wife, and his mother.)”

“So what happened after that?” I ask.

"Well, later Rimpau and his family made a financial killing selling their land to the oil companies and the hotel chains-

“No, what happened before that?” I clarify. “How does your families’ knowledge of sorcery enter into the picture?”

"Shortly after the sale of the land…

[dougie_monty]

“a number of business agents from the States came to the Netherlands Antilles. One of these was from the oil empire of John D. Rockefeller, and this agent got the bright idea to plot ethnic cleansing of Rimpau’s land after conning him into selling to the company. The agent wanted to get rid of the nonwhite population and send scores of fundamentalist missionaries to ‘convert’ the white population to the agent’s whitebread religion.”

“How did anyone find out about this?” I ask.
“The maverick agent of Rockefeller’s company was a nasty fellow named Norris Hayden. He drank like a fish, swore like a truck driver, and was a first-rate slob. He dropped papers and records everywhere. He was in a local tavern in Oranjestad and left a notebook that was full of racist philosophy. My great-grandfather Mattheus Vos found it. He just glanced at the contents and it raised his suspicions. Matt knew sorcery himself, and he contacted Lukas Oranjeboom, Pete’s great-granduncle, whom he’d known for years. Lukas was a sorcerer too. They used their powers to spy on Hayden and they found out his sinister plans.

“Sounds like what was done to the American Indians—or the Irish—or the Kurds,” says Alice.
“It wasn’t bad enough,” I comment sourly, “That the population of Martinique had been decimated by the eruption of Mont Pelée in 1902.”

“That’s why Zuzinda moved from Martinique,” Loora says. “When Matt and Lukas found out what Hayden’s plans were, they spread word all over the Netherlands Antilles. This worried Rimpau, and his mother, because, of course, she was black—and a voodoo priestess.
“With this outrage, the deal fell through, and the vibes reached all the way back to Rockefeller himself. He recalled Hayden and scrapped plans to buy Rimpau’s land. There was now a strong alliance between ‘Ggrvmp’ and our two families.”

“But before then…” I muse. I wonder who Hayden’s descendants might be…
“Before then, Rimpau had worked with Nicholas during his wiccan phase, at which time he was also consolidating his hoard of precious metal, having converted his riches from gold to silver. It’s true that the ingot that Bob and Mary own is bewitched—or rather it was, until Alice mentioned Father Abromowitz.”

“What about the Sanskrit expression?” asks Alice.
“Nicholas hired a scholar to translate a long and ominous message he composed into Sanskrit. It warns of deadly supernatural forces, which would be loosed by anyone mishandling the ingot. As has been noted, anyone who attempted to steal the ingot would face the wrath of demons who ‘inhabit’ it.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have legal possession of it,” says Mary. (I remember the document Nicholas wrote for us, giving the group at the Morpheus 80% of his gems and precious metal.)
“It is, Mary. And that’s also why ______ and Alice were not adversely affected by the supernatural when they originally came to me to sell an ingot—they had legal possession of it, and they had Professor Fields, an attorney, with them for good measure. I believe Leo’s presence in Dawn Korey’s car, and the subsequent collision, was partially the result of the transferring of the warning to _____ and Alice—since Nicholas no longer owned the ingot.”

“And I believe I exorcised the demons when I mentioned Father Abromowitz,” says Alice.
“Did you hear a scream after you mentioned him?” asks Loora.

“Yes, I did,” says Alice—‘a ‘blood-curdling scream.’”
Loora says, “That should be that. But let’s play it safe.”

The ingot, of course, is still present. Loora assumes an appropriate sorceress posture and taps it twice with her left thumb.
“Ik ben [I am] Loora Vos Oranjeboom,” says Loora.

We hear a tiny peep—then silence.
Then a booming voice says:

“Whoever steals this ingot from Robert Theodore Blonda and Mary Smith Blonda will face the wrath of the supernatural!”
Even Leo is awed.

Fred says, “Well, it looks like now we have the whole enchilada. Between the Sanskrit message—and Alice, please bring me the translation as soon as you can—Loora’s family history in the West Indies, and Lal Thakkar’s manuscript, we have enough data to assess Nicholas’ nineteenth-century dealings. But one piece is still missing from the puzzle—the proper explanation behind the mangled Shakespeare quote. Red, I understand, did not really give you a satisfactory explanation for it.”

“No, he didn’t,” says Parker. “We’ll have to jog him a little more about that.”
I suspected Parker would want a better explanation.

Now Betty Galloway comes in. She hands out engraved invitations, for the wedding of John McKuen Dumfries (Jock) and Lorna Jennifer McManus, at Father Abromowitz’ church.

Alice can’t suppress happy tears—and neither can I.
The invitation reads:

[NDP]

You are cordially invited to the wedding of John McKuen Dumfries and Lorna Jennifer McManus.
The nuptials will take place at St. Aloysius Church on _____ __, 2003 at 2 p.m.

“I didn’t know Lorna and Jock are Catholic,” I comment after drying my eyes.

“Oh, Jock isn’t,” corrects Alice, “but Lorna is.”

“I wonder where they’re registered?” Fred inquires after getting his invitation.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “Maybe there’s something on the invitation card in small print.”

I examine my card again and see if there’s anything in small print that I missed the first time. Sure enough, there is. However, the message in small print has nothing to do with what store Jock and Lorna are registered at. In fact, what I see both baffles and chills me. It is…