“I am sorry that won’t be possible,” Polidori said. “But at least you have the privilege of seeing one of the world’s great mysteries solved first.”
Chapter Forty-three
Gus tried to pull away from Leonard. He wanted to run to the professor and shake some sense into him. But he couldn’t get free, and even if he could, he knew all the shaking in the world wouldn’t do any good. Kitteredge was in the grip of an obsession, and it would never let him go. Gus knew that because it had dragged him in, too, and if he’d spent any more time on it, he might not have been able to escape, either.
“It’s the sword’s resting place,” Polidori said. “It has to be. It fits the poem perfectly: ‘Let not my rusting tears make your sword light! Ah! God of mercy, how he turns away!’ Can’t you see it?”
Shawn and Gus looked up at the pillar.
“I see a big rock,” Shawn said.
“It was you who gave us the final clue,” Polidori said.
“That was the spirits,” Shawn said. “They didn’t bother with subtitles.”
“We should have seen this all along,” Polidori said. “The obelisk was erected in 1877, just five years before Rossetti painted that last picture.”
“But decades after the poem was written,” Kitteredge said. “That was what kept me from understanding the truth. The fact that the verse itself was not written to be a clue to the puzzle, but that Rossetti and Morris chose to construct their clue out of an existing work.”
“Well, sure, if you’d just said that before, we all would have gotten it,” Shawn said.
“Tears are water that runs down from the eye,” Polidori said. “In this case, that has to be the eye of the Needle. Tears that appear to be rusty because of the red granite it’s made of.”
“Of course, that could have meant so many things,” Kitteredge said. “But the next line is what seals it. ‘Ah! God of mercy, how he turns away!’ That could be no place but here.”
“Uh-huh,” Gus said.
“Look at the sphinxes,” Polidori said. “They should be guarding the obelisk, but instead they seem to be looking at it. That’s because they were installed backward-they turn away!”
“Which would mean nothing, unless you know that the golden cherubim on the biblical Mercy Seat are actually believed to be sphinxes,” Kitteredge said. “This has to be the place.”
“It all seems to fit,” Shawn said. “Except for one thing. What about the eye?”
Polidori stepped up to the obelisk and rapped on the marble pedestal it sat on. “In here,” he said. “The eye of the needle. It has to be.”
“When the obelisk was erected, they put a time capsule in the base,” Kitteredge said. “It contained all the usual things you might find in such a container-the day’s newspapers, a Bible, a portrait of Queen Victoria.”
“And the sword of King Arthur?” Gus said.
“You’d think someone would have noticed,” Shawn said.
“When Rossetti’s wife, Lizzie, died, he placed the manuscripts of his most recent poems in the casket with her,” Kitteredge said. “Several years later he was desperate for money, and his only prospect was the publication of those poems. So he sneaked into the graveyard in the middle of the night, dug up his wife’s grave, and took the papers back.”
“Is it such a stretch to believe he and Morris would repeat that stunt with the sword?” Polidori said.
“If you’ve stretched things this far, why not?” Shawn said. “So what do we do next? Steal the pillar?”
“This is the point at which our destinies diverge,” Polidori said. “Professor Kitteredge, Chip, and I are going to wait here until long after dark, at which time we will attempt to find the mechanism to open the time capsule. I’m afraid that you will be going with Leonard to a slightly less scenic spot.”
For the first time since they had left the warehouse, Kitteredge seemed to be aware of the reality of the situation. “There’s no reason for that,” he pleaded. “Let them stay-at least until they see the sword.”
“You can describe it to them when you see them in heaven,” Polidori said. “Leonard.”
Leonard took the van keys out of Chip’s outstretched hand and dropped them in his pocket, then grabbed Shawn’s arm with one hand and Gus’ with the other.
“I have a better idea,” Shawn said. “Why don’t you just have Leonard hit us over the head and dump us into the river right here?”
“Thanks for the suggestion, but I’d prefer not to bring the police down to this particular spot,” Polidori said.
“What police?” Shawn said. “Put rocks in our pockets; no one will ever know.”
“Except all the tourists lined up for the boat tour below,” Chip said. “Nice try.”
“Then let Chip take us,” Shawn said. “Leonard can stay here.”
“Yeah,” Leonard said. “I’d like to see the sword.”
“Chip’s been my partner in this for years,” Polidori said. “He deserves to be here when we retrieve it.”
Leonard looked unhappy. He didn’t move.
“It’s okay, Leonard,” Shawn said soothingly. “I’m sure they’ll still be here when you get back. It’s not like they’re going to wait here until you’ve gone, and then make a dash for the real hiding place.”
Gus felt Leonard’s grip loosen on his arm a little. “Sure-they already told you there’s no way the sword’s at the London Eye,” Gus said. “They wouldn’t lie about something like that.”
“Not to you, Leonard,” Shawn said. “You know how much they think of you.”
For a second, no one moved. Then Leonard let go of Shawn and Gus. His hand dug in a pocket and came out with a pistol. He leveled it at Chip.
“Chip takes them,” Leonard growled. “I wait for the sword.”
“Put that away, you fool,” Polidori hissed. “Don’t you realize where you are?”
“I’m not up front with the smart guys. I know that,” Leonard said.
“That’s because you’re not smart,” Chip snapped. “Now put that gun back in your pocket.”
“It’s a little too heavy,” Leonard said. “Stretches out the fabric. Maybe if I lightened it a little. Just by the weight of a couple of bullets.”
He kept the gun and his gaze aimed straight at Chip. Which meant he didn’t see Polidori reaching into his own pocket and pulling out his own pistol.
“I told you to put that away,” Polidori said. “I should kill you right here. But there’s no more time. We have to move-now!”
Chip pushed past Leonard’s gun and grabbed Gus’ arm.
“What’s going on?” Gus whispered to Shawn as Chip started to pull him away. “What happened?”
“Nothing yet,” Shawn said. “But there’s a funny thing about England. It’s-”
Something hit Gus in the back and knocked him to the ground. He threw out his hands to protect his face as he fell, landing hard on his palms. He tried to turn around to see what had struck him, but before he could move, someone grabbed his wrists and whipped plastic cuffs around them. He lifted his head, but all he could see was a swarm of black uniforms and yellow Windbreakers.
“-the biggest surveillance state in the world,” Shawn said as he was cuffed. “You can’t go anywhere in public without the police seeing you.”
Chapter Forty-four
If it had occurred just a day earlier, Gus would have thought the flight back to the States was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Handcuffed to his seat, accompanied by a uniformed U.S. marshal, he knew that everyone who walked by his row was staring at him and wondering what he had done. But compared to the ride in Polidori’s van, this was better than the luxury flight in Flaxman Low’s private jet.
And spending ten hours flying back to Santa Barbara was definitely preferable to ten years in an English jail, which was what their arresting officer had originally threatened them with. That threat began to ease when it became obvious that neither they nor Kitteredge was carrying a gun, and that there seemed to be little with which to charge them. When a routine search of their names turned up the California warrants, the English government was only too happy to turn them over to American officials.