“The Mask!” She exclaimed. “It’s back!”
Sure enough, through the glass of the display case we could see the death mask of Amon Re.
“It looks like the mask,” said Bogdon. “But actually it’s just an optical image transmitted by the combination of lasers behind the case.”
“You mean like a hologram?” asked Freddie’s Mom.
“Well not a hologram as such. It more like a volumetric display. It’s a visual representation of the mask in three physical dimensions while a hologram is really a planar image that simulates depth through visual effects.”
We had no idea what Bogdon had just said. But, we accepted that he was probably right.
“Mr. Carpmouth,” said Agent Sykes. “I believe you need come with me.”
Mr. Carpmouth sputtered and flicked his silk handkerchief but there was nothing that he could say.
“Agent Sykes,” said Charlie. “We did take the liberty of calling the sheriff’s office. I believe that is Sheriff Killdeer and his deputies are entering the museum right now.”
“If you want,” said Shad. “You could leave Mr. Carpmouth to the Sheriff. After all, I believe the State has jurisdiction in a robbery or a fraud conspiracy like this.”
“That’s ordinarily true,” said the FBI man. “But, since this mask was being returned to the Egyptian government, I believe the FBI will handle this matter. I will be taking Mr. Carpmouth back to Washington, DC with me.”
“That’s interesting,” said Freddie. “Especially since the FBI headquarters are not in Washington, DC. They are in Quantico Virginia.”
“You know what else is interesting?” said Shad. “Agent Sykes’s identification says he is an FBI ‘Agent’.”
“But, I am an FBI Agent,” Agent Sykes replied defensively.
“But, the FBI does not have any ‘Agents’ in the field,” Shad said triumphantly. “All FBI field agents are ‘Special Agents’. You, sir, are as big a phony as that Paper Mache mask!”
******************
Sheriff Killdeer and his deputies did end up taking both Mr. Carpmouth and the fake Agent Sykes into custody. And, the Sheriff impounded all the evidence that the pretend FBI man was planning to abscond with. As the two suspects out being hauled out of the museum, Mr. Carpmouth was whining for his lawyer. Agent Sykes was shouting that the robbery was all Mr. Carpmouth’s idea and he wanted to make a deal.
******************
It was not long before the authorities were gone and we were left alone in the museum, just the Rangers and Freddie’s Mom. The exhibit seemed incredibly quiet and empty.
“So, the mask never even made it to the museum?” asked a despondent Ms. Dunkleberger.
“No Mom. It was never here,” replied Freddie softly.
“Well there goes my exhibit,” said Ms. D and she flopped down dejectedly on the bench at the front of the hall. Freddie sat down and put his arm around his Mother.
As Mother and Son sat in silence, I reached back into my pocket and pulled out the remote control again. Walking around the room I pointed it at the different laser sensors and one by one I turned them all off. And finally, the humming stopped.
I closed my eyes and listened.
“I thought so,” I said to myself.
I walked over to the bench where Freddie sat comforting his Mother. The disappointment and grief of almost getting another chance at a major league exhibit weighed heavy on her face. She had sacrificed so much for her son and seeing her hopes dashed was a bitter pill to swallow.
“Freddie?” I asked. “Can your Mom keep a secret?”
Freddie looked up and nodded yes. He was still too depressed say anything – but I could see a little curiosity in his eyes.
“Mrs. D., I sort of inherited this gift from my Grandfathers,” I began.
It took a few minutes for Ms. Dunkleberger to understand what I was telling her. And, having devoted her life to hard science, she was disinclined to believe that I really was a locator or that locators even existed.
In fact, she had reached the “Sweetheart, we all like to pretend we have special powers” point, when I walked over to the shelf and picked up Coptic jar number two. Ms. D was stunned as I flipped open my pocket knife and began prying off the false bottom.
It was probably the first time in fifty centuries that the bottom had been removed. Egyptian sand spilled out on the polished tile floor of the museum like the proverbial sands of time. And, here and there amid the grains there was the sparkle of gold and the flash of emeralds and sapphires. The crown jewels of Amon Re were just as amazing today as when they had been hidden during the third dynasty of the old kingdom.
“They were probably packed in sand so their rattle would not give them away,” I concluded.
Ms. D’s disappointment gave way to shock and then to amazement. She walked over and knelt down beside the sand and treasure. Carefully, she picked up a jewel encrusted scarab beetle finished in solid gold. She blew off the remaining grains of sand and held it up to the light for a closer examination.
“Five thousand years…” she stammered. “And, no one ever suspected a thing until Jeep ‘heard them calling’? It’s incredible. It’s amazing. It’s beyond comprehension.”
For a minute we just stood admiring one of the great treasures of the ancient world as relief washed over us. Now, the exhibition could go on as planned. And, Egyptologists the world over would be rushing to Granite Falls to investigate this spectacular new find. This exhibit would be bigger than anything Ms. D had ever handled at the Field Museum!
Freddie was a little giddy as he put his arms around his Mother’s neck and gave her a great big hug.
“Well Mom,” he said smiling from ear to ear, “thanks to Amen Re and the Rangers, you have something to put into that display case after all!”
************
About the Author:
Matt Musson was born in Austin, TX and grew up in San Antonio. He earned two degrees at the University of Texas and moved east to work for Ross Perot as a Systems Analyst. He has developed computer systems for Planters Peanuts, LifeSavers Candies, Sara Lee and Bank of America.
Matt is currently in North Carolina developing banking software and working part-time for the Charlotte Bobcats and Charlotte Checkers. He has four incredible children: Skye, McClain, Granath and Chandler. And, he collects vintage rodeo belt buckles and Indian jewelry when he is not prospecting for Carolina gold and emeralds.
He is a contributing author to the non-fiction anthology Sports in the Carolinas: From Death Valley to Tobacco Road. He has two baseball novels available online: The ’51 Rocks and Batboy on the Worst Team Ever. Other Jeep Muldoon adventures include The Mystery of Merlin’s Magic and WhaleQuest!
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