The Rings of Hesaurun Read online

  Still raging, Stone hoisted the big brass cash register over his head and slammed it down on the already-ruined skull with a whump,crushing it flat as a pancake. Blood and brain matter splattered everywhere as coins scattered across the wooden floor.

  “Chaching!” Stone laughed. “Beggar won’t be buying any more lead sandwiches from Evers.” He gloated, then turned away and began poking around for evidence of what might have been in the lunchbox.

  The quick search revealed nothing promising until he found a safe behind the sales counter. The safe was locked, but he discovered a key chain hanging from Steve’s belt. After trying a few keys, he found the right one and turned it. The door swung open, revealing documents, cash, jewelry, and one grapefruit-sized gold nugget.

  “Bingo!” exclaimed Stone, as he laid eyes on the big nugget—or was it? Something about the massive chunk of gold seemed off. He wasn’t sure what but guessed it didn’t matter as long as it was the real McCoy. He picked it up, marveling at its size and weight, estimating it to be about twenty-five pounds. Not bad, he thought.

  “No wonder Evers got tired of carrying it—the wimp,” Stone muttered.

  Then it hit him. He had seen plenty of gold nuggets, and everything about this one was wrong—other than there was no question about its authenticity. It’s gold alright, he surmised, but gold nuggets are rough, with plenty of holes and creases in them. They are never smooth, rounded symmetrical shapes like this. This one was both smooth and symmetrical, just like a river rock. Not that it makes any difference, Stone decided. It spends just the same.

  This must be what Evers sold to the pawnshop owner! he thought, eyes scouring the shop.Nothing else here fits the bill. A chunk of gold the size of this thing must be extremely valuable. Moreover, it was heavy, and carrying it in a lunchbox made sense, notwithstanding Chad Evers. With the riddle of the contents of the lunch pail solved, the only questions remaining were where did Evers get it, and did he have more of them?

  Chunks of gold this large had to be rare, he reasoned. Did Evers own a gold mine? Was there more where this came from? Yes, there must be more, lots more, and I intend to get the rest of it while the getting is good. I’m on the Chad Evers money train, and I’m not getting off until it reaches the station!

  What had just transpired was murder, so Stone knew he had to make it look like a burglary. When the police investigated, they would consider the scene a robbery as long as the safe was found empty. So why not make it one?

  Wasting no time, Stone rummaged around the shop, unearthed a carpetbag and stuffed it with everything from the safe: documents, currency, gold and jewelry. After turning off the lights and locking the door behind himself, he felt pretty good. It was Saturday night, he reasoned; the pawnshop was effectively closed for the weekend. It could be days before anyone found the body, and when they did, he would be long gone.

  The adrenalin rush powered Stone’s steps as he hurried through the crowded streets toward his parked car. When he checked the time, 4:47 PM, he remembered the glass case full of wristwatches he’d left behind at the Ace Loan & Pawn and cursed himself for overlooking it. He thought about turning around but decided it was too risky.

  A lot of things crossed his mind as he walked up the hill to Second Avenue, but never for a moment did he feel the slightest bit of remorse for what he had done to poor Steve, the shop owner, for leaving him the way he did, nor for his friends or family. To Stone, it was nothing more than business as usual.

  Ten minutes later, he arrived at his parked car. After stowing the carpetbag in the trunk, he set about gathering the tools of his trade for what he had in mind next. The Colt Government .45, Ka-bar knife, and lock picks would be needed, all of which went into the pockets of his big black overcoat. Just that fast, he was ready for the next round of business.

  Moments later, Stone entered the lobby of the Otterman Building. A schedule of tenant addresses was conveniently posted on the wall by the elevator. There he found the name C. Evers listed as being in apartment 4B. To keep from being seen by tenants, he took the stairs to the fourth floor, then cracked the door for a moment to be sure it was clear before stepping into the empty hallway.

  The fourth floor looked and sounded unoccupied, and the building was silent as he quietly crept to 4B. Listening at the door revealed no sound or movement from within the apartment. When he was satisfied no one was present, Stone picked the lock then slid silently inside.

  With the lights off and shades drawn the apartment was dark. Stone switched on a lamp, then checked his watch—5:35 PM—then began looking around. He found seven rooms, two of them bedrooms, all clean and tidy. What else would one expect of Chad Evers? Once he had confirmed the apartment was unoccupied, he began looking deeper. His goal was to find that lunchbox and, hopefully with it, more gold.

  Stone methodically searched and hunted through each room. The kitchen yielded nothing of interest, nor did any of the other rooms. As a last resort, he opened the closet door in the entryway. On the floor, he found a stack of round river rocks beside a black metal lunchbox.

  Stone was puzzled. He expected to find the lunchbox somewhere in the apartment, but the pile of stones surprised and confused him. Each rock seemed to be roughly the size and shape of the gold nugget he had liberated from the pawnshop. Was Evers painting rocks gold and selling them to pawn shops? Surely he wasn’t that stupid, and neither were the buyers. Plus, the big gold rock from the lunchbox looked and felt exactly right.

  Suddenly Stone felt rather than heard footsteps outside the door. The hallway was carpeted, which silenced footfalls, but someone was there, and he knew it. The closet was inches from the door; if Evers had returned home he was in trouble. It was too late to retreat, and there was no time to hide. Stone held his breath, certain the door would open, but when a copy of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer newspaper slid under the door, he began breathing again.

  Stone held his laughter behind his hands. He had what he’d come for; now it was time to look inside the lunchbox. But the moment he touched it, he realized it was empty. Disappointed, he cracked the box open and peered inside, instantly aware it was a waste of time. Other than wadded newspapers, the lunchbox was empty. His gaze flashed around the room, then returned to the neat stack of river rocks, puzzled by their presence. Maybe they hid gold, so he dismantled the pile but found nothing there but stones.

  Still, something about the rocks captivated him. Each one of them was about the same size and shape as the gold nugget sitting in the trunk of his car. The answer lay in these stones; he knew there was a connection—but what? Had Evers found a way to turn them into gold? Had he mastered alchemy?

  On a hunch, Stone began going through the bedroom closets again, ransacking the coats and jackets and checking each pocket for anything hidden, but again found nothing of interest and not a single clue. Exasperated, he looked down at the neat row of shoes lined up on the closet floor and gave them a frustrated kick. As the shoes scattered, he noticed a barely visible cut-out of the hardwood flooring with a nail hole at its center. The cutout was well hidden with the shoes present, but now it was impossible to miss.

  Dropping to his knees for a better look, Stone was able to confirm the cut-out. He found a nail on top of the baseboard, strategically placed to appear as random. But it wasn’t there by chance; instead, it was used to lift the panel from the floor. The nail fit into the hole perfectly, and with patience, Stone was able to remove the floor panel.

  “Bingo,” he burst out and clapped his hands. Built into the floor was a small safe with a brass face and recessed key lock mechanism. The safe looked to be professionally installed and securely strapped to the floor joists. No one would be busting this safe open or packing it off without a sledgehammer. However, Stone had come prepared; his lock pick made quick work of the padlock.

  Once opened, he found nothing inside other than one small leather-bound notebook, about the size of a diary secured by a rubber band. He opened the book but was disappointed to see
it was just that, a book. He expected something more: gold, a checkbook, or map to a gold mine, something valuable that needed to be protected. However, as he flipped through the pages, he saw nothing of value. He judged it to be a typewritten journal, nothing more.

  Frustrated by the lack of results, he scowled then began putting the lid back on the safe when he realized that if Evers went to so much trouble to hide the little book, there must be something of value inside. Why else would he conceal it in a safe? There had to be more to it than what appeared on the surface, so the little book went in his coat pocket, intending to read it later.

  Stone went to work replacing everything, putting it all back the way he found it. After turning out the lights, he quietly made his way out of the building. It was 6:08 PM when he landed at the bottom of the staircase.

  Stone left the Otterman Building feeling like he’d had an exceptionally good day, even if he hadn’t found out where the boss stashed his gold. Between what Evers had already paid and what he netted out of the pawnshop, he was a rich man, having earned several years’ pay in just three days. Working for Chad Evers was looking pretty good at the moment.

  When Sunday morning rolled around, Stone walked to the Market Café for breakfast as usual. Once seated, he found the leather-bound notebook still in his coat pocket, where it had been hastily stashed the previous day. Over eggs and bacon, he opened it and began reading.

  To: Aedan Dunne

  From: Valerie Dunne Date: August 3, 2409 BCE

  Dear Aedan,

  If you are reading this, it is because I am gone. My journey may be over, but I can assure you that coming to know you and your family has made this the happiest and most fulfilling part of my life.

  You have grown, learned, and accomplished so much in such a short time. Be proud of yourself! I know I am. You have worked hard; your English, reading, and writing skills are excellent. Please do not allow those skills to deteriorate. Continue reading the books I left you and using your knowledge and skills to benefit yourself and those that follow you. Passing those skills on to your descendants is a lifeline to their future.

  You have done a wonderful job supporting your wife and raising your children. Moreover, you and your family took me in and made us, Orson and I, part of your family when many others would not have been so hospitable or gracious. I want you to know how much I appreciate your love and consideration.

  Aedan, you are now a Dunne. Please consider this book and accompanying ring as my gifts to you for your loyalty and support. You know how important it is to me that these precious things are protected and passed on to your worthy family members. The plan I have set in motion is now entirely in the hands of you and your family. I have confidence knowing you will not fail me in this.

  Love, Valerie.

  NOTICE: If your name is not Dunne, or you are not a blood relative of a Dunne, you should assume you are not the rightful owner of this book and its accompanying ring, and these items have been lost or stolen. Again, if you are not a Dunne, you must consider it your sacred duty to return these items to the rightful owner immediately.

  Stone read the first page, which seemed to be a deathbed letter, then brooded over it. Everything about it is cockeyed, he thought.First off, the date is all wrong. He huffed at that because it seemed impossible any book could last over 4,000 years. Even if it was that old, how could it have been written in modern English? Impossible! he reasoned. Plus, the little book looked brand new. This thing is some sort of joke!

  Filled with skepticism, he flipped through the pages shaking his head disbelievingly. At first, he discounted everything about it, then realized the book itself deserved further scrutiny. The materials, including the leather cover, paper, and print quality, appeared fresh and new, which troubled him. Those materials weren’t in as-new condition; they were better than new. Alot better than new. They were perfect.

  On close examination, Stone found the paper to be virtually indestructible. When the corners were folded over, they sprang back to their original shape without leaving a crease. The material was flexible but resisted his efforts to wrinkle or tear it. The typewritten print was in English, but the print quality seemed almost three-dimensional. Moreover, the text was far more precise than anything he had ever seen; it seemed to jump off the page.

  Stone pondered this. Evers had gone to a lot of trouble to hide the little book where it wouldn’t be found. That meant it was precious to him. If Evers valued it that highly, it had to be important. Suddenly Stone felt uncomfortable about being seen reading it in public. After all, it was the stolen property of a local politician. So he returned the little book to his coat pocket, promising himself to have a closer look at it in privacy.

  While walking back to the Vista Hotel, Stone thought about Chad Evers. A lot of questions popped up. If his name wasn’t Dunne, did that mean the book was stolen? And what about this ring? Where was it? Surely he wasn’t wearing it. Why wasn’t this highly-valued ring with the book? Why did Evers hide the book so carefully?

  When Stone returned to his room, he made a pot of coffee then sat down to read the journal. It was small, taking less than an hour to read. When he had finished reading he was still skeptical; the story seemed too farfetched to be true. But his gut didn’t entirely agree. He decided there must be some truth there or value to it, or it would not have been kept under lock and key.

  The booklet told the fantastic story of a superior being having gifted five rings, one ring each to five Dunne family members. Accordingly, those five rings were supposed to be passed down through this Dunne family for generations. Each ring provided its wearer with a unique ability, but no force in the galaxy could stand against them when the five were combined. It claimed that aliens would attempt to enslave humanity in the future, then destroy Earth, but only by the five rings’ collective power could humankind be effectively defended.

  The whole thing is some sort of cartoon, Stone thought. What a goofy story! It’s too far-fetched to be true! However, one sentence captivated him so much that he reread it several times: “Ring wearers’ lives are increased tenfold, which improves continuity of purpose.” Stone took that to mean a ring wearer could live as much as one-thousand years. Although he scoffed at that, he was unable to forget about it. Could one of these rings really make someone live a thousand years?

  When Stone laid the book down, he was convinced the ring, book, and Evers’ gold were all somehow connected. He didn’t know how, but he intended to find out. If it turned out that Evers possessed one of those Hesaurun Rings, he didn’t think it would be that hard to separate him from it. Then he would find out for himself if the story was a comic or not.

  Stone stared at the big chunk of solid gold on the table, eyeing it lustfully. He’d never seen or heard of such a large nugget. Hefting it in his hands, he wondered at the possibilities. But he needed more information and a plan. After all, if Evers had a magic ring, he couldn’t just club him on the head and run off with it. Or could he? His brain began to burn with all the possibilities. Gold fever had Seamus Egan Stone firmly in its grasp.

  Placing the hunk of gold back on the table, Stone sunk further back in his chair. The thought of living for hundreds of years seemed ridiculous. Yet the possibility of living for hundreds of years—and with the benefit of enormous wealth—was electrifying. He was beginning to see it as a life-changing opportunity he wasn’t about to miss, and at that moment, he was determined to make it happen. If Evers had a magic ring—and Stone was beginning to believe he might—he would have it, and no one would get in his way.

  The big man spent the remainder of the weekend holed up in his shabby room at the Vista Hotel dreaming of what he could do with a thousand years and all the gold he could conjure. By Sunday night he was giddy—and more convinced than ever Chad Evers had a magic ring.

  As with most Monday mornings, Stone sat in the Market Diner eating his pre-breakfast snack of doughnuts and coffee. However, he wasn’t his usual non-verbal self. It was a happy
day, and he was ready to share the cheer he felt with everyone he met.

  “Thanks,” he commended the waiter, then dealt him a rare smile. The waiter stopped and stared as if confounded by the unexpected remark. What—can’t a man smile? Stone thought.

  The waiter scratched his head with a puzzled look, then checked the table number as if confused about which table he had just waited on. Maybe he doesn’t understand anything but “the usual” and “more doughnuts,”

  thought Stone, as the waiter wandered away. Stone was riding high in the saddle, feeling like his life had taken a sudden turn for the better in the past few days. The thick roll of cash in his coat pocket was all the evidence needed. He liked the feeling of carrying a lot of cash gave him. The sensation made him feel important, influential, and uncommonly cheerful.

  Then he looked at his old wristwatch and regarded it with contempt. The bookies and loan sharks he collected for wore expensive wristwatches, he mused. Tough guys and bigshots like those guys always wore plenty of gold. He wasn’t sure why, but watches had always intrigued him, made him feel good about himself. He wanted to be like the bosses and have a big fat gold wristwatch. Then he would show up with one and act like it was nothing special. But he would know better, and he would make sure they saw it, too.

  Stone decided he would go to a jewelry store right away and choose the most expensive watch in the place—and pay for it with cash on the barrelhead. The thought excited him, and he grinned through a mouthful of bacon. He liked cash, and he liked watches. Buying a new watch would make him feel real good.

  That worm Evers had a nice watch, Stone recalled; he had seen it. The thought of Chad Evers owning a fancy watch galled him, and his mood sank. He figured Evers was sitting on a pile of cash. Must be in a bank, he guessed, because it wasn’t hidden in his apartment; He had made sure of that yesterday. While cash was a good thing to have, what generated it was far more important than having it. After all, wasn’t the goose that laid the golden egg more important than the egg?