Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw Purdue stepping neatly over the rope and casually sauntering up the aisle. He walked straight past Sam and Nina without making eye contact or giving any sign that his mission had been a success, and disappeared through the doors and onto the street.
“Honey,” Sam said loudly, “I think we’ve taken up enough of this gentleman’s time, don’t you? Come on. If you stand here talking all day we won’t get to see the castle.” He steered her, still protesting, out of the door.
As soon as they were outside Nina turned to him, one arched eyebrow raised in amusement. “American? Really?
“It worked,” Sam shrugged. “Now where’s Purdue?”
“I am here.” Purdue appeared at Sam’s shoulder. They kept walking, Sam and Nina together, Purdue a step behind them so that to the casual observer they looked like they simply happened to be going in the same direction rather than walking together. He quickly configured his tablet to the size of a phone and held it to his ear so that he could talk without appearing to converse with Sam and Nina. “I found what I was looking for,” he said casually. “It was not too difficult, sharp eyes were all that was required. It’s very beautiful; I think you will appreciate it. The design is quite intricate. Now, I believe we are supposed to be meeting at the Museum voor Schone Kunsten? I am on my way.”
He suddenly increased his pace, stepping round Sam to overtake him. As he passed, he slipped a small box into Sam’s jacket pocket. Once he was a little way ahead he slowed his pace again, just enough to remain visible and lead the way. Too curious to resist, Sam waited only a few minutes before taking out the box and examining it.
It was a small rosewood box with a long, rectangular base and a pointed lid. The condition of the wood made it clear that it was not an antique but simply made in the style of a Gothic reliquary. It would not open. The surface was covered in carvings so precise and detailed that Sam was sure they could only have been done with a laser. They showed what looked like a map of central Ghent, with a line marked with arrows winding through it and coming to an end in… a cave?
‘That can’t be right, can it?’ Sam was mystified. ‘A cave? In a city? Why would there be a cave right next to a building that looks like that?’ Sure enough, the illustration showed an elegant building with a tall columned façade, with the letters “S.K.” in curling script above it. As discreetly as he could, he showed it to Nina.
“The gallery sounds about right,” she said, handing it back to Sam. “As far as I know S.K. is Schone Kunsten or the Flemish equivalent which is probably very similar.”
“And the cave?”
She shrugged. “Seems a bit weird. But hardly the weirdest thing we’ve seen. I suppose we’ll find out when we get to the museum.”
Chapter Seventeen
“There! That’s it there.” Sam pointed across the road. “Look, it’s the same layout as in the carvings on the box.”
Sure enough, the Citadel Park wrapped itself around the two galleries, the Museum voor Schone Kunsten and the Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst, and a small pond with a little cave stood behind the former. Three small arches, two stone pillars. It was impossible to tell whether it was man-made, designed to complement the galleries or a naturally occurring outcropping. Even in the cold weather it would usually have been surrounded by tourists looking for a photo opportunity, but now that the blue skies had given way to grey and the rain had begun to pour, it was deserted.
“I think we might just have to accept that we are going to look conspicuous this time,” said Purdue as they picked their way across the wet grass and along the edge of the pond. “We must just hope that the rain will keep people out of the park for long enough for us to find the key.”
Nina turned the reliquary over in her hand. “The arrow definitely ends here,” she said. “There’s nothing beyond this. But there’s also nothing to indicate where in the cave we should look.”
The walls of the cave were coarse and natural-looking. Any hope that they might easily spot an unusually large or prominent rock was quickly dashed. Together they scoured the walls for any sign of the key, or any sign of Addison Fabian’s manipulation.
“There’s nothing here,” Nina sighed, after an hour of intensive searching. “Or if there is, we’re not going to be able to find it by means of the naked eye. Is there anything else we can try? It’s starting to clear up, and I can’t imagine this place is going to stay quiet for long once the rain stops.”
Purdue leaned against the wall and stared at the roof of the cave. “We may need to abandon the search and return after dark. What do you think, Sam?”
“No idea,” Sam said wearily. “Let’s have another look at that box.”
He took the reliquary from Nina and examined it once again, retracing their steps from St Bavo’s through the center of Ghent, from Sint-Pietersplein to the twin galleries. The line certainly led straight from the galleries to the cave…
“Is this significant, do you think?” He held up the box to the light and pointed to a tiny detail. The line that they had followed gave way to a much smaller, much thinner line, barely perceptible against the grain of the dark wood. “I can’t tell whether that’s another, smaller line or just a coincidental scratch, but… does that bit there look like an arrow to you?”
Purdue adjusted his glasses and peered at the reliquary. “It could be… I have an idea.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tablet, unfolding it from the size of a matchbox and stretching it out to cover his palm. His fingers flew across its surface for a few seconds; then he held the tablet over the box, took a picture and zoomed in as close as he could.
The thin line, now that it was blown up to an easily-visible size, grew even thinner, and at such close quarters they could see that the wood grain on the box was not wood grain at all. It was a remarkably accurate depiction of the rocks that surrounded them, carefully rendered in burnt wood. “Remarkably detailed work,” muttered Purdue, scrutinizing it closely. “Now let me see…” He held up the tablet, tapping something on its edges to render its flexible frame transparent, and moved the device over the wall until he found the place where it seemed to blend into the background, the light and shade and depth of the rocks falling into perfect synchronicity. “We have it!” he cried, then handed the tablet to Nina and dug into his pocket again.
This time he produced a small, narrow screwdriver, barely thicker than a hypodermic needle, and slipped its blade into a tiny crevice in the rock. That was all it took to wriggle one of the stones out of place, revealing at last the key hidden behind it.
It was a surprisingly chunky key, considering the size of the reliquary. Small but compact and heavy, made of wrought iron with an ornately twisted bow. Sam had imagined something slighter, more elegant and filigree, but he realized that this was probably just the romantic in him. ‘If you’re going to leave a key sitting in a cave for who knows how long, I suppose it’s got to be sturdy,’ he thought. ‘No sense in making something that looks like it belongs in a fantasy novel if it can’t survive the elements.’
Purdue took the key and slotted it into the lock. The lid of the reliquary sprang open, revealing a small scroll inside. He unrolled it carefully. “Well,” he said, passing it to Nina when he had finished reading it, “I think we had best go and collect our belongings. It looks like we have another move ahead of us.”
Chapter Eighteen