Artifact (17 page)

“Hey,” Lane said directly in my ear. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He stepped up beside me, a fine layer of dust covering his clothing. He looked even taller than usual. He stood on a fat root of the tree, resting his hand on the trunk next to me.

“You’re awfully close to the edge,” he said. “Be careful, it looked like you were daydreaming or something. I don’t need to remind you about other ‘accidents’ that have happened on these cliffs.”

When I didn’t answer immediately, he studied my face.

“What is it?”

“Not here,” I said quietly.

“We’re on a break now,” he whispered. “We can go talk somewhere.”

“It’s not lunchtime yet, is it? It’s only around eleven.”

“We’re in Britain. I thought you knew this place.”

I looked over and saw Knox pouring tea out of a thermos.

“Honey,” Lane said loudly, “let’s go look around.”

He took my hand in his and pulled me away from the edge of the precipice. His hand was warm and strong. He led me south of the dig. We walked in silence until we found a flat, wide-open space. We’d be sure to see anyone approaching long before they were within earshot. I realized my hand was still in Lane’s even after we were long past the crew’s field of view. Oddly, it felt so natural that I hadn’t given it a second thought. I let go of his hand as we sat down on two relatively dry rocks. Lane looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I opened my mouth, and then realized I had no idea where to start.

“You know how fictional detectives on TV always have their ‘ah-ha!’ moments,” I blurted out, “where everything clicks into place?”

Lane waited for me to go on.

“Where the detective does something like dipping her spoon into the sugar tray,” I said, “and the sugar sticks to the wet spoon, so she looks at the spoon and says ‘Ah ha! Of course!’ Because her subconscious has realized the fundamentally different way that things fit together when you do something differently.”

“Jones,” he said. “I hate to break it to you, but those moments are there to create a neat and tidy solution for the viewer.”

“I’m trying to explain something important. Didn’t you used to be a good listener? Just pretend I’m Fiona.”

He was silent.

I took a breath. “We’ve been looking at this whole thing in the wrong way.”

“Oh!” Lane said, sounding interested for the first time during the conversation. “You found a clue in someone’s room?”

“What? Oh! Yes. I mean no. I mean, I thought so. Knox had a Gregor Estate pamphlet in his room.”

“So you were right after all,” Lane said. “I should have paid more attention while we were there. But we can go back—”

“No, let me finish. He had a lot of random items. No one had any dastardly plans tacked up on their walls. My idea doesn’t have anything to do with something I found.”

“Really? Then wouldn’t a better analogy be that the detective looked at a clock through a water glass and the time was backwards? That way it’s not a physical thing that has changed. Only her perception changed. The way she was looking at something.”

“That’s quite clever,” I said through gritted teeth, “but right now I need you to be a little less pedantic. What I’m trying to say is that we’ve been assuming that the treasure Rupert is after is the same one you know about. But what if we misinterpreted his note? Or if he purposefully misled me to entice me here? It wasn’t as if there was much to go on. Remember, even though he’d been at the British Library for days, he hadn’t requested any information about the Mughals and their treasure. He was doing
something else
.

“I don’t know what he’s been up to for the past year. For all I know, he could have been involved in all sorts of crazy schemes with Knox—the bracelet having been just
one
of them. What if his motive wasn’t to help him find some far-off Indian treasure? He wanted me to help him here. On this dig. When I saw him he kept talking about a treasure, but he didn’t say
which
treasure.

“Think about what I told you he said to me on the train. He carefully omitted all references to what the treasure was. You weren’t there for the whole evening last night, so you didn’t see how Fergus and Angus reacted to me—”

“I saw enough.”

“Then you understand my point. The way Fergus reacted to me was especially spooky. He seriously believed I was a fairy, one they called a
bean nighe
, who brings death. At least for a little while. But even after that he told me all sorts of fairy legends. They seemed wary of the other members of the dig, though. Remember when you entered the pub, they scurried off to their own separate table?”

“You think your ex wanted you to get Fergus and Angus to tell you the local legends that only they remember, leading him to a treasure.”

“Exactly. Knox and Rupert had to have something specific to go on, something that would make them think there was real treasure here. Fiona was on this dig from the beginning, and she and Knox are going out. At least they were until you came along. Anyway, she could easily have told him about something that turned up at the dig. Looking down at the cave made me put it together. The cave would be a perfect place to bury a treasure. A folklore one and a real one. And did you notice how protective Knox was about not blocking off the cave?”

I pulled my knees against my body. The wind was getting crisper.

“That’s a compelling idea,” Lane said, “except that it’s so far-fetched that it doesn’t make sense.”

“I knew it!” I said, standing up and jumping around to keep warm. “I knew you wouldn’t want to let go of your apocryphal Indian treasure that will make your career.”

“This has to be about the Rajasthan Rubies.”

I stopped jumping and stared at him across the heather. “What did you say?”

“I was talking about the treasure.”

My head spun as I realized what he was saying.

“You lied to me!” I yelled. “You’ve known what it was this whole time. What else have you lied to me about?”

“I didn’t lie to you,” Lane said.

“You called the treasure the Rajasthan Rubies.” My voice shook as I spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about the treasure so much that I had to start calling it
something
.”

“You make up pet names for all the mysterious treasures you come across?” I tried to raise an eyebrow skeptically. It looked so easy when he did it. I found I wasn’t nearly as good. Especially when I was upset.

“This isn’t just any treasure,” Lane said. “The state of Rajasthan has a lot of Mughal jewelry of Persian influence like this. It has a nice ring to it.”

“The Rajasthan Rubies,” I repeated into the wind as I watched Lane. Did I believe him?

“Your ruby artifact and this bigger ruby treasure have to be what this is about,” he said. “Your ex sent you a piece from the treasure that was clandestinely removed from a great Mughal court and hasn’t been seen in centuries.”

“It sounds to me like you need to get a life,” I said, not quite sure I believed him, but not knowing what else to think. “You’re starting to use words like ‘clandestinely’ in conversation. How did a Mughal treasure end up here? It makes much more sense for Rupert to be after a Scottish treasure, since we’re in Scotland. But until we see Rupert again, we can’t confirm anything. It’s not like we can ask Knox outright, since not even Rupert trusted him. I need to find another way to talk to Knox.”

“Even if I grant you your premise,” Lane said, “if Fergus and Angus knew the details of some local treasure, why wouldn’t they get it themselves?”

“Maybe they don’t know some critical piece of information,” I suggested.

“That your ex or Knox happened to stumble upon?”

I paced briskly around the heather. It wasn’t nearly as bouncy as I had been led to believe.

“I didn’t say I had everything figured out,” I said.

“It’s possible,” Lane said, “but only in the grand sense that anything is possible, which renders any such assumption meaningless. More importantly, it doesn’t help us figure out who would want to kill your ex, or where any treasure is. You’re making me nervous, hopping around like that. Do you want my sweater?”

“No, I’m fine.”

We stood there in silence for a few moments. Trust no one, Rupert had said.

“There’s one more thing,” Lane said. “Even if the other holes in your theory don’t turn out to be actual problems, why would Knox and your ex risk their plan to excavate some part of the cave while a legitimate dig is going on nearby? This is only a summertime stint. Later they’d have the place to themselves and not have to work on the dig at the same time.”

“Impatience?”

Lane raised an eyebrow.

“What?” I said. “It’s the
start
of a theory. I know there’s more to figure out. I’m going to try to talk to Fergus and Angus again this evening. We need to look at the alcove and cave as well.”

“Not until nightfall, we don’t. We don’t know who will be suspicious if we do it during the day. You okay?”

“I thought things were finally starting to make sense. Don’t you get the feeling that there’s something strange going on here? Mr. and Mrs. Black sense it. Fergus and Angus do, too. God, the atmosphere is even getting to me. I don’t want to tell you what I thought I saw on my walk over here.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

The sun was almost overhead when we returned. I walked to the standing stone, careful with my steps around the sifted dirt. Now that some direct light was hitting the rock face, I could make out some of the carvings. They were definitely man-made, intentional markings.

Derwin knelt next to me and spoke. “Remarkable, isn’t it?” His breath smelled sweet from the lingering aroma of a clove cigarette. He looked almost happy. “My research was key in helping Malcolm make this discovery.”

“I’ll be sure to get good photos,” I said. “I liked what you said last night about making sure the easiest theory isn’t the accepted one just because it’s easy.”

“Thank you,” he said stiffly.

“Oh good,” Malcolm said, coming up behind me. “You’re showing her what she needs to photograph. The faded lines right here, with the arrows at the ends.”

Malcolm’s eyes lit up as he pointed at the markings. How could these Pictish scholars care about a treasure if they were enthralled by the prevalence of rectangles and arrows in carved stones?

“If our theory is right,” Malcolm said, “we should find even more standing stones here, somewhere near the rock face.” He gestured as he spoke, his arm sweeping over the dramatic cliff-size excavation with pride.

The sun was in what looked like a good position, so I retrieved the camera and tripod. The crew were huddled around Malcolm. Luckily they weren’t paying any attention to me as I fussed with the strange camera equipment.

Almost as soon as I was done capturing the various angles I imagined a real photographer would have thought of, the sun was swallowed up by a patch of clouds. Derwin and Knox got to work attaching metal poles around the square of the pit. Fiona held a tarp. I moved out of the pit and Fiona laid the tarp down on the earth.

The makeshift tent was up by the time it began to rain. Under the tarp, we ate a lunch of cold sandwiches and tepid tea. We wore rain slickers, because although the six of us fit easily under the covering, the sea wind blew the rain in sideways.

The sun peeked through the clouds as we finished our sandwiches, though the rain continued to fall relentlessly. I was wondering if they would call it a day, but the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, less than thirty minutes after it had started. Malcolm stuck his head out of the tarp, and then stood up and walked into the soppy grass.

“It’s through,” Malcolm said. He laughed when he saw my expression. “It’s in my blood. Though I was raised in England, I’m a Scot. I can feel the Scottish weather.”

“It doesn’t hurt that he and Derwin live in St. Andrews,” Fiona said.

“Fiona keeps me down to earth,” Malcolm said with a wink.

Once the tarps were cleared, the rest of the crew fell into place, including Lane, doing their part to sift the dirt and clear the area around the embedded stone. I announced that I was going to walk up to the Dunnottar Castle ruins since they didn’t need me. Everyone was focused on the stone. They barely looked as I left.

Lane’s warning be damned, I was going to check out the alcove cave. He was far too careful for his own good. We’d never figure anything out if we stuck to his suggestion of waiting until the crew were asleep.

I headed north toward the castle. Once I reached the main pathway along the cliff, I walked for a few minutes before spotting a path that branched off downwards toward the ocean. The path wove back and forth, keeping it from being dangerously steep. This looked like more of a main path than the one under the dig. After I walked through dirt, grass, and rock, I found myself on a small strip of sand. I could see the rocky cave not far down the beach. The site above wasn’t visible.

I wrapped my rain jacket more closely around me for warmth as I headed for the cave. The sky was clear but the crashing waves sprayed up a cold mist. Black rocks dominated the landscape. Where the land met the edge of the ocean, a chunk of rock jutted out into the water. I looked up and saw the steep path that led up to the dig. If one of the crew decided to poke his or her head over the edge, they would see me. I picked up my pace, hurrying the last few yards to the cave.

The opening to the cave wasn’t more than six feet tall and three feet wide. It would have looked man-made, except that the edges were rocky and jagged.

I froze as soon as I stepped inside. A flickering light shone ahead of me. I was not alone in the cave.