Alan Ch. 20

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"Have we changed?"

"Hmm? What are you talking about, sweetie?" Alan asked.

It was twenty minutes later, and he was driving her home through the town's dark and deserted streets.

Alan was paying more attention to flicking his hi-beams on and off that Kate in the seat next to him.

"What are we? You know, boyfriend and girlfriend? Lovers? Master and slave?"

"Weeeeelllll," he began, drawing out his words exaggeratedly, "I cannot assume to speak for you, but in my mind you're my girlfriend. OK?"

She sniffled and wiped a tiny tear from the corner of her eye. "OK," she whispered. She paused a few seconds. "But what about, you know, the other girls?"

"Yours or mine?" he shot back with a wicked grin.

She laughed. "I think I just walked right into that one. OK, then it's settled."

"What's that."

"You are my boyfriend, I am your girlfriend, but both of us can have girls."

He laughed.

* * *

Alan had never been to Europe before; his family vacations had usually been inside the continental U.S. and Hawaii, with occasional forays to Mexico, and once to the West Indies.

It was a shame really that he wouldn't get a chance to play tourist; his business in Europe was business. They were in Geneva, their second stop. London had proven fruitless; visits to the hotel where Massimo had been killed hadn't turned up anything, and his office at Oxford had similarly yielded nothing of importance.

Claude Massimo met the trio (Alan, Karick and Swindon-Smythe) in his office. After an exchange of pleasantries they got down to business.

"Please, please, sit down. You are Alan Marshall, yes? I didn't know you were coming, but I've been expecting you nonetheless. Please, sit. Do not be puzzled. It's rather simple, you see." Dr. Massimo leaned over and twirled the combination lock on the safe concealed in the credenza behind his desk and quickly righted himself holding a small metal box, about four inches by eight, as deep as it was wide.

"When our mutual acquaintance, Mr. Wilkins from New York, flew over last year to help me settle my father's estate, well, that was the first I ever heard of you, Mr. Marshall. I take it you and my father were close?"

"We, uh, had a special bond."

"I don't mean to be indelicate, but, ah, how shall I state this? Ah, by, uh 'special bond,' ah, does that make us half brothers? I'm sorry to ask, but knowing my father as I did I am well aware that there are unacknowledged half siblings of mine peppered across the globe, and, uh," he petered off in half embarrassment.

"No, Doctor, nothing like that, but for various reasons I would rather not elaborate upon I cannot comment further."

"Oh. Fine fine. And uh, is Mr. Sutherland, Carl Sutherland joining us? I'm somewhat curious about him."

"No," Alan stated plainly, not wanting his host to know he and Sutherland were one and the (almost) same.

"My father was a very wealthy man, and he left me a large amount of money, and more to charities and institutions and such. I begrudge this Sutherland person nothing, but I found it very strange that such a large portion of my father's estate was given to a man I had never met, never even heard about before his passing. I was just curious."

Alan looked the man over, inside and out, and decided he was just nervous. He was more interested in the box, hoping Alan would open it in his presence.

"Do you know what it is?" Claude Massimo asked. "I tried opening it," he admitted with a furtive look on his face, "But it seems to me to be one solid piece of metal."

"Just a little project your father and I were collaborating on."

Later, back at the hotel Alan opened the box. Neil was right by him, Karick watched the door.

"What is it?" Dr. Swindon-Smythe asked, his voice ripe with anticipation.

"Empty. Just a piece of paper, parchment, I think. Blank," Alan answered, showing him. The box was steel, lined with green felt, peeling at the edges.

"Let me have a see," Neil said, taking the parchment and examining it. "Old, maybe centuries old. Perhaps," he began, drifting off into thought, "Perhaps it is like the box itself. Could you, ah, do that magic bit you do, like opening the box, like. You know, unlock the message on the paper like you unlocked the box?"

"Good idea!" Alan said excitedly, but to no avail. The paper remained blank even after Alan concentrated over it.

"It might be chemical," Karick said, coming in from the suite's other room. "I know a man, documents expert--we used to work together ages ago. He might be able to help." He unpocketed his cell phone and began to make calls. A few hours later they were on an evening train to Paris.

Next Chapter: Resurrecting Jack (part 2)