He dressed in slow motion, sat on the chair, and perched the box on his lap. He passed his fingers over the rough-hewn lid. The box was a little more than a foot long and about ten inches wide. The wood was in relatively good shape, and there was a latch but no lock. It was sealed with a beeswax substance around the opening. He circled the waxed area with his knife and cleared the top for opening. He sat for a moment, harkening back to the prayer Sara voiced before they had opened the cookie tin. He prayed for guidance and slowly inched the top off. There was a waft of metallic odor but no dampness or mustiness. His heart was beating so fast his throat throbbed. As he lifted the lid, he found an object wrapped in a waxy canvas. He could hardly make his fingers work. This had to be the cover! He slowly removed the oilcloth-type covering, and there it was! The cover was revealing itself, inch by inch.
The opposing ends of the cover were rolled in, scroll-like fashion, toward the center, leaving about a six-inch area in the middle, which was flat.
The cover appeared to be dull silver intertwined with gold or copper. It looked like a diminutive woven mesh similar to chain maille. He had recently seen a similar type of work in fashionable soft bracelets and rings. The center of the mesh revealed a simple cross of what looked like fine hammered gold. Each end of the cross was fashioned in a circle and each end had an inset of a large jewel. They looked like rubies or emeralds, perhaps sapphires. It was impossible to know; they were clouded with a soot-like residue. At the intersection of the cross, there was a circlet of pearls and smaller indistinct stones. The cross was quite thin and light in weight. However simple, it was an outstanding design. He kept the cover flat and placed it in his oversized zip-lock plastic bag. After the fact, he realized he should have worn latex gloves while handling it. He didn’t want to look at it again until he had security and witnesses. Reality was sinking in; this was no longer a pipe dream—he had just unearthed a world treasure! The months of assumptions were now pure fact. He wanted the cover in professional hands, the sooner the better. The responsibility was intimidating.
All of a sudden, all those “pie in the sky” plans were center stage. Thank God they had tentative plans for this occasion. The box was too cumbersome for the next leg of his journey. It was sure to be of major interest to the prospective owners. He would find a bank in Dublin with a large safety deposit box.
He walked to the car and sat there for a few minutes. It was late afternoon in New York. He was nervous; his fingers hit the wrong keys on the phone three times.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Michael, you sound out of breath.”
“I’ve found the perfect gift for you. It is exactly what we had discussed.”
“Oh my God!” cried Sara.
“It’s incredible, Sara!”
“Michael, that’s amazing!”
“I’d like you to email me the name of your friend in Switzerland. I’m heading that way. I want to make sure he is available for dinner. I’m getting a little bored here. I have loads of pictures of the countryside, and I want to move on.”
“I’ll get on it today and call or email his phone number and address.”
The conversation was over in a matter of minutes, as neither knew what to say. Neither Michael nor Sara was comfortable discussing the minute details over the phone. He would email snippets of information in separate emails. It was better to be cautious due to the phantom guy with the cane. The original agreement was to keep all discussions vague until the cover was in Trinity’s possession. Now that he had the treasure, he would be on his guard twenty-four/seven. He would adopt the mentality of a security guard yet try to portray a casual tourist. This would be a time when he would be thankful to have a bodyguard; however, it was not an option for many reasons—trust being the first, and being in a foreign country was also a concern.
He drove to a hotel restaurant and ordered dinner. The cover was in the messenger bag by this side. He sat in frozen silence, realizing, after all this planning, how unprepared he was for such a discovery. He ate and made his way back to the B&B. He would return the car to the rental agency the following day. Now that he was in possession of the cover, he wasn’t willing to risk attracting attention with any erratic driving. He was certain his demeanor portrayed anxiety. If he was stopped for anything, he might attract more than casual attention from the local police.
“Hello, Mrs. O’Hagan. Whenever it’s convenient for you, I would like to use the Internet connection. I promise to take less than five minutes.”
“Nonsense! Take your time. We’re fixin’ to go out for a wee bit.”
“By the way—something has come up, and I’ll be heading back to Dublin on some business matters. ”
“And would ya be leavin’ real soon?”
Michael mustered up a casual tone. “In a day or two, at the most. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Aye, it was a pleasure to have you with us.”
He sat at the computer, wiping his moist hands. After a few deep breaths, he collected his thoughts.
He would use all three email addresses Sara had given him and jumble up the information; she would get the big picture. He typed the first email.
Hey Sara,
Hope this finds you and your dad well. Not much new here. I saw some jewelry you might like—a cross you would love; it was made of hammered gold and decorated with rubies, emeralds, and pearls. Things are fine here. The weather is a bit overcast for photography. More later. Best, M.
He switched to the second email.
Dear Sara,
Hope this finds you well. I saw a bracelet today that was made of a fine maille. It seemed to be made of silver intertwined with gold and quite pliable. I know you would like it. I have some great photos of this area. Say hello to your dad. Please contact your friend and let him know I will be visiting soon. Do you have his phone number yet? M.
Now, email number three.
Hey Sara,
I plan to phone you at about two p.m. your time tomorrow or the day after. I will be at the ferry by then. All is well here, and I will proceed on to Europe. I’m looking forward to getting in contact with your friend. Cheers! Michael.
Michael realized he needed to re-boot and settle down. A lot would hinge on Sara speaking to the Zurich lawyer. It was now dusk and he was anxious for the night to pass. After a quick meal, he showered and watched local TV for a while before heading to bed. He was both mentally and physically exhausted.
He spent the following morning taking pictures in the town in an effort to solidify his image. He had certainly convinced Mrs. O’Hagan and the secretary at the real estate office.
Once again he drove over and spoke with Mrs. O’Reilly. He gave her a cheque for two thousand dollars and agreed to pay the full asking price. All legal papers were signed. He brought Mrs. O’Reilly a bouquet of flowers, with which she seemed very pleased.
He left a notarized copy of his signature for her file and gave her his New York cell phone number. She advised him it would take some time for the county to finalize the sale. It was clear to Michael that, barring a disaster, he would have the money to purchase the home. He was convinced it was important to own the property since it was possible his purchase would stop any legal issue about ownership of the cover. He opened the door to leave the real estate office, turning at the last moment. “Please let me know if anyone else asks about the property.” He was relieved to see Aileen give him a wink. His next stop was to return his rental car. Per their instructions, he took it back to a little parking area and left the key under the mat.
*******
“Hey, Mrs. O’Hagan, I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’m looking at a little piece of land here; I may return and purchase it.”
“It would be grand to be havin’ you as a neighbor. And which property is it?”
Michael described the home and land in a vague fashion and was startled to hear Mrs. O’Hagan’s reply.
“There was a man asking my son about that same property.”<
br />
“Really?” Michael took a breath, trying not to appear too anxious. “Was he Irish?”
“Aye, I believe he was, he said he had lived in these parts years ago.”
“I may have met him in the bar...”
“I doubt it lad; it was a few weeks ago. Did the man you are speaking of have a black hair with a beard, and carryin' a cane?”
Michael mustered up his most casual tone of voice. “No, I guess it was someone else.” Great Jesus! Michael thought. He now had an inkling of what this guy looked like. This was way beyond coincidence. What a break! On the other hand, another monkey wrench in his plans, unless the guy had given up—fat chance of that!
“Well, off with ya’—do stay with us on your return.”
Michael handed her a separate envelope. “I’ve included payment for a few extra nights, since you were so kind to leave this room open for me.”
Mrs. O’Hagan thanked him for his thoughtfulness; her dignity prevented her from opening the envelope in front of him, but she was gracious and wished him a safe trip.
*******
Michael rode the bus back to Dublin and boarded the train for Rosslare. He had rented a one-year deposit box in a large Dublin bank and stored the wooden box, wrapped in plastic. He relaxed, as there were few people on the train, but he kept a wary eye out for this mysterious man with the cane.
Upon arriving, he checked out the Rosslare Seaport. He confirmed departure times and berth availability. The ferry left each day around four p.m. He hoped he would be able to leave soon, at least tomorrow or the day after. He would wait for Sara to send him the information regarding his contact. He mulled over whether to inform Sara about the man with the cane. In retrospect, he wished the nuns in New York had described the mysterious guy who enquired about Sister Abbey in more physical detail. Although, what good would it do to put Sara in alert mode? He gave this question more thought. Perhaps she could provide information if things went awry. Other than his predictable pessimism, he could see no reason to tell her.
He chose a phone booth that was in full sight of his surroundings.
“Hey, Sara,”
“I read your emails.”
“Everything is going well. I’m in Rosslare. I’d like to do some photography here and maybe head towards France soon.”
Sara enquired, “Are there private berths available on the ferry?”
“Yes, for the next three days at least. It’s an overnight trip. I’ll arrive in France the following day, then on to meet your friend”
“You’ve had such a great trip, Michael.”
“Couldn’t be better; I believe I have an angel on my shoulder.”
“I agree.”
“Is your pal in Zurich available?”
“Yes, Michael, I’ve made contact with him. He may meet you either in Ireland or France. He has some time on his hands; he thought it might be fun to show you around. He’s emailing me his phone numbers for his office and cell—along with a possible meeting location for you. I’ll call your cell with his information, or you can try calling me tomorrow morning.”
“Great, did you say he might come to Ireland?”
“Yes, and he has a good knowledge of France and speaks French and German fluently. He mentioned renting a car and touring France; then proceeding on to Switzerland.”
“Wow. So pleased you could contact him.”
“Yes. He’s an international lawyer and happened to be in his office when I called. He’s in between cases and hasn’t had a week off in the last two years.”
“What’s his name?”
“Sven Mueller. If you’re interested, you could look him up on Google. His background is interesting; you two will have loads to talk about.”
“Thanks for the update. Tell me about your corner of the world.”
“There’s absolutely nothing new since we last spoke. Things are fine, and we miss you.”
“Me too—till then. I can’t wait to tell you all about the details.”
He hung up, wondering what the next step would be. He had a pretty good idea. Michael was aching for more details; nevertheless, he was sure Sara had done her homework.
He knew it was far better to enter Switzerland with a Swiss lawyer. Due to his precious cargo, it was difficult for Michael to trust this man. He would look him up. Regardless of what he found on the Internet, he would ask Sven for references.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Michael’s cell phone rang the following morning. “Hey, Sara, good morning! Everything ok?”
“Hi, Michael, everything is fine.”
“Did you hear from your friend?”
“Yes. Sven has decided to meet you in Rosslare. He’s flying to Dublin and will be there tomorrow evening; he will be quite late. He thought you two could meet and spend a day getting acquainted. The plan is to travel the following day.”
“Super.”
“Where are you staying? He’ll book a room close by, or perhaps at the same hotel.”
“I’m at the Dansmore Hotel, close to the ferry harbor. Perhaps it’s best to meet him at breakfast. I’ll be wearing a striped shirt with a green V-neck sweater. I’ll go down at precisely nine a.m.”
“Fine, he’ll contact you on arrival. If he can’t get a room there, I’ll ask him to call you around eight a.m., and you can meet for coffee. He inherited his dad’s law firm, which has represented many interesting cases dealing with antiques.”
“Super.”
“It’s a very old, prestigious firm in Zurich, and he has been with them since he graduated. He has an impressive dossier and, oh, hi Dad—listen, Michael, Dad just popped in. I hope your uncle feels better soon. I need to give Dad a message; email me tomorrow.”
“Bye for now.”
Michael felt a little better having heard Sven was a partner in an established firm. Was it too much to expect he might be member of the law firm that represented the Quedlinburg case? Probably.
Michael did a little sightseeing and window-shopping. He had slit the cloth lining of his messenger bag, and the cover was cradled in the sides and bottom. Sara had had the foresight to give him a small sewing kit with heavy black thread and curved needles. Because the lining was loose, the stitching was not visible. He would have the cover on his person at all times. The big question remained—was Sven legitimate? He was sure that there was a damn good reason why he was being escorted from Rosslare; he supposed it had to do with border security issues. Although Michael didn’t like being in the dark about the plans, the intrigue was exciting. If this guy was legit, it would be great to have someone to guide him through the anticipated maze. He was experiencing the excitement of a lifetime; however, he remained conflicted about meeting this man in a location other than in his Zurich office. A dichotomy of emotions prevailed.
As he lay in bed, he felt more at ease; the cover was by his side, and he was on the last leg of his mission. Emotional exhaustion took over; he fell into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Room service delivered tea to Michael; his phone never rang. He looked at his watch. It was time to go down for breakfast. He seated himself at a strategic table and looked over the menu.
“Good morning, sir. Would you be Michael Evans?”
The distinguished gentleman had a slight foreign accent suggestive of Germanic origin, but with a nuance of a formal British accent. Most likely he had been educated in England.
“Indeed I am, and you are Sven?” Michael put his napkin down and raised himself off his chair as a gesture of respect.
“Yes, Sven Mueller here.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sven.”
“Are you vacationing in Ireland?”
“Yes, “Michael replied. “I’m in Rosslare for today. I plan on leaving for France tomorrow; our mutual friend suggested we might travel together for a few days.”
“Yes, it would be a pleasure to show you some of France and, perhaps, Switzerland if you h
ave time.”
The conversation rambled on in a superficial fashion. “Do you have friends here, Sven?”
“No, this trip was very much a spur of the moment plan. I have a few days off between cases. I wish to see some of the local sites today.”
As they finished breakfast, they agreed to see the sites together. Sven had a small car available. They agreed to meet in the lounge in thirty minutes.
They met in the courtyard and set out for the day. Once they were out of the driveway, Sven opened up.
“Your contact in New York advised us that you may have the missing cover of the Book of Kells.”
“I believe I do,” Michael responded. He decided to approach this man with a similar approach to the farmer in Duleek—straight and to the point.
Sven was quick to respond. “I think it is vital that we get acquainted—including proof of who I am and also verifying my legal firm. We will do this before discussing the cover.”
“I agree. I was not expecting to make contact with anyone until I reached Zurich. Due to the enormity of my discovery, I'll feel more comfortable after confirming the specifics on your background.”
“Excellent. I will show you my dossier and my firm’s history. I have brought certain printed articles and pictures corroborating my identity and experience in this specialty.”
Michael responded in a matter-of-fact way, “Let’s visit a few sites first.”
“Good idea.”
“I’m pleased we have this day to get acquainted,” said Michael. “I’d like to start with some shopping, if that’s okay with you. Comparatively speaking, I feel a bit underdressed.”
“You flatter me. However, I understand. First, let’s go down to the ferry office and secure our reservations. Adjacent private cabins would be most convenient. Then we are off to the clothiers.”
They made their reservations for the following evening. It was decided that they would turn the car in before they boarded the ferry. They could rent another car in France and head to their final destination in Zurich. Sven did not wish to travel by train. He wanted the ability to change course on a moment’s notice. The reason for his arrival in Ireland was to assist Michael through the Irish and French customs inspections. There would be random checks of backpacks and suitcases both in Rosslare and in Roscoff, France. It appeared that Sven had connections in both ports. Michael was to move directly behind Sven in any customs queues. It was unlikely there would be any problem; however, Michael’s cache made every precaution necessary.