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Will Conrad and the Crown's Curse
Chapter 1
"Distinguished Professor Graham Conrad; internationally renowned lecturer, archeologist, and intrepid explorer, has been presumed dead on July 17th, 1935 after his expedition in the Transjordan region went missing in March of this year. Professor Conrad was highly respected in his field and counted many close associates, colleagues, and friends. He is survived by his brother Henry and his nephew William. Funeral services will be held on..."
He trailed off, wadding up the newspaper with a sigh of disgust. "What a load of shite." He threw the ball of paper across the study, missing the wastebasket by several feet.
"Language, Will." Percy chided, picking up the newspaper and disposing of it properly. "Your father wrote it." He reminded.
"I know." Will conceded. "But Dad thinks that he's dead. Uncle Graham wouldn't have been taken out by a sandstorm. He's better than that. He's still out there somewhere."
Percy returned to the book he had been scanning. "I very much hope you're right."
"You know I am." Will insisted confidently. "You've known him as long as I have."
"Longer." Percy corrected, with an irritated flick of his eyes in Will's direction. "You were scarcely an infant when I came to study under your uncle."
Will kicked his feet off the desk he had them propped on and stood up. "Whatever. There must be some kind of clue here that will tell us where he's actually gone."
"William..." Percy sighed gently.
"Percival." Will mimicked his tone.
"No one wants to see Professor Conrad alive and well as much as you and I." Percy spoke gently. "But your uncle was not a young man anymore. Extravagant adventures and expeditions to Arabia are not meant for men his age. We need to be realistic."
"I am being realistic!" Will raised his voice but hated how petulant his declaration sounded. "If you think, after everything you and he got through together, that THE legendary Graham Conrad would be done in by a sandstorm, then you're the one that's deluded."
With another sigh, Percy adjusted his spectacles. "Professor Conrad did have a knack for finding trouble and getting himself out again. However, he also had a knack for embellishing his stories a touch. Especially for his adoring young nephew."
"What about Marrakesh?" Will challenged. "I was there for that, remember. You can't say that was embellished."
Percy shook his head with exaggerated patience. "No, maybe not. But the Marrakesh incident still speaks to my point that your uncle liked to flirt with danger sometimes. I asked him not to go but the Conrads are not known for their willingness to listen."
Will gave Percy a side-eyed glance of annoyance at the thinly veiled criticism. Instead of responding, he began poking around the drawers of his uncle's desk. "Uncle Graham always kept detailed journals." He reminded. "If we can find his more recent volumes, maybe we can figure out what he was working on that led him back to Transjordan in the first place. It would be something to go on at least."
"You shouldn't go through your uncle's things." Percy reprimanded, still scarcely looking up.
"Why not?" Will shot back, fiddling with the latch on one of the drawers to see if he could shake it loose without searching for a key or something to pick the simple lock. "You think he's dead just like everyone else. So why would it matter?"
"I didn't say that." Percy insisted. "I simply think that we may need to entertain the possibility however."
"Bah." Will waved the man off dismissively. Although Percival Milton was almost fourteen years his senior, Will considered him more a colleague and friend than an authority. His quiet and bookish demeanor was the foil to Will's brash firebrand nature, which often left them at good-natured odds with one another.
Fishing out his pocketknife, Will kept working on the desk drawer until, with a satisfying click, the lock gave way and the drawer slid open.
"Got it!" He announced his triumph to a decidedly unimpressed Percy.
"Let me guess, notes for his Cambridge lecture? Professor Conrad's monogramed pen? Oh, a love letter from that pretty woman in Mersin?" Percy feigned sarcastic interest.
Shuffling around the assortment of uninteresting junk, Will barely looked up long enough to offer a short, "Shut up." before returning to his uncle's drawer. He did not want to admit it, but the contents did appear to mostly be unimportant letters from universities, museums and others all hoping to get a precious piece of the sought-after professor's time.
With another of his famous world-weary sighs, Percy closed the book he was reading and returned it to the shelf. Coming to stand across the desk from Will, he waited patiently for the boy to pull his eyes away from the mundane correspondence. Will looked up at him in a silent question.
"It's getting late, Will." Percy leaned on the desk. "All of this will still be here tomorrow. Maybe you're right. Maybe there is something to find, but we can look together in the light of day. Can I bring you home?"
Will knew that Percy was trying to be kind, but he also knew when he was being patronized. He waved off Percy's concerns. "Mum will be around to collect me shortly anyhow, and Helene is probably waiting for you. Don't worry about tomorrow I'll... see you at the funeral, Perc."
Giving a gentle shake of his head and a sad frown, Percy eventually pulled off of the desk. "Suit yourself." He shrugged. "Just remember to lock up before you go."
Promising that he would, Will bid his friend goodnight before returning to his rummaging. More letters and some notes on a project in Cairo but nothing that stuck out to him. Will vividly remembered his uncle talking excitedly about his upcoming expedition as they had celebrated the holidays together. He had been quite tight-lipped about it, but that was not uncommon, saying only that it was very important, possibly the most important of his career.
It was not the first time that Graham Conrad had made that claim. Several times, he had been right, outstripping his previous `greatest achievement' and replacing it with a new one. He had seemed so sure this time though. Will's young mind had been incessantly troubled in the months since, wondering about what he had been searching for.
Now, after all this time, he had finally gotten his father's permission to return to Uncle Graham's estate. The giant property where he had spent so much time as a child and young adolescent, had been barred to him when his uncle went missing, a fact which Will had long bemoaned to Percy and his parents.
The old explorer's disappearance had hit Will the hardest. Graham had likely been more of a mentor to him than his own father, passing on his infatuation with, and reverence for history. Will had even been permitted to accompany his uncle on a few of his legendary expeditions. These Will counted as the greatest and most defining periods of his life.
Will found himself getting choked up as he read his uncle's handwriting on some of the scraps from the drawer. The chicken scratch writing was so distinct and yet Will's own script had taken decidedly after his uncle's; much the to dismay of his father whose penmanship was excellent.
Swallowing the lump in his throat and wiping his eyes, Will was quietly glad that Percy had left when he did. If Percy saw him upset, he would try to do something unfathomable like comfort him. He tossed aside the scrap of paper he had been holding which had appeared to be a shopping list. It fluttered down to the desk to one side.
Coming to the end of the drawer's contents, Will sighed in exasperation and leaned back in the chair. He didn't know what he had expected to find or hoped to find. Will was old enough to realize that tearing through his uncle's things was in many regards a way to prolong accepting that he was really gone; that he would never again see Uncle Graham's sarcastic half-smile, hidden under his manicured mustache, or hear the mischievous energy in his voice when he told stories from his adventures. Will screwed his eyes shut to keep the tears away.
When he opened them again, something caught his attention. It was a subtle thing that he had seen earlier but was only just now registering. The little piece of paper he had discarded with his uncle's shopping list on it had landed on the desk with the written side down. On the reverse of this scrap, Will had decided that it must have at one point been part of an envelope, was part of a return address stamped on it.
Although some of it was torn, the envelope clearly had `10 Downing Street' affixed in the return position. The home of the Prime Minister. Will picked it up to examine it more closely to make sure. It certainly seemed genuine.
That was curious. Will wondered what could have prompted a letter from the Prime Minister himself. For someone of his uncle's esteem and notoriety, it would not be unheard of, but even so it gave Will pause.
Searching quickly through the pile of papers, Will found no such letter among them, nor could he find any trace of the rest of the envelope. Surely though his uncle would not have thrown away something like that. But if not in the locked desk drawer, where might he keep it?
Will looked the scrap over carefully, examining the tear and the stamp. Turning it over, he read his uncle's handwriting again. A basic shopping list, albeit in his uncle's barely legible scrawl. He had to admit, it was a bit of a strange list though.
1 Cabbage
8 Apples
2lbs Potatoes (if available)
5oz. Red Currant Jam
2 Onions
Flour (if available)
Nougat
The more he read the list of seven items, the more oddities Will found with it. For one, Uncle Graham hated nougat. Once in a great while down at the shops he might pick up a nougat bar for Will to snack on, but it would be a purchase of impulse, not something to write down on a shopping list. Will found himself frowning intently at the list. Eight apples seemed oddly specific, and potatoes and flour were ubiquitous, why would their availability be in question?
Will's breath caught in his throat. This had to be it. The clue he was searching for disguised as a bit of rubbish. The list seemed mundane enough on the surface, but the oddities added up. The return address was meant to catch a keen eye, Will was sure of it. Uncle Graham was smart but subtle that way. Why else would this little scrap be in a pile of his Uncle's personal correspondence?
Suddenly, Will laughed out loud, a tear streaking unbidden down his face. He had heard two voices in his head almost at once, as clear as if they were both standing next to him. The first was Percy, giving him a lecture about grasping at straws and seeing what he wanted to see. The other however was the voice of his uncle.
"God is in the detail, boy. But his counterpart is too. If your mind has an itch, don't rest until it's well scratched."
It was a lesson Graham that had often repeated in one form or another in his ever-brisk cadence of speech. Always as though he needed to get his words out before his brilliant mind whirled too far ahead.
This shopping list definitely left an itch in young Will's mind. And he meant to follow his uncle's instructions. Looking out the window at the fading light, he estimated he had about half an hour before his mother arrived. Wasting no time, he dove headlong into the puzzle.
Will tried first to categorize the list to determine how the objects were related. Most of it was produce, although this train derailed quickly when he could find no connection between the rest of the items. From there, he jumped to examining the numbers. He tried plugging in common number-based ciphers that his uncle had taught him over the years but came up with nothing sensible. During this however, he realized that reading from top to bottom, the numbers read almost like a year, but with one extra digit. 1825, 2. This felt like the right track, but Will couldn't be sure. What did the extra number 2 stand for?
The phrase "if available" jumped back into Will's mind. There was a reason for its presence. There had to be. Placing it next to some of the most common household items could not be a coincidence.
"What if it's a tell..." Will pondered aloud. He had pulled out another sheet of paper and re-written the list in several ways as his brain spun. From his studies of cryptography, Will knew that one common way of disguising a code or making it harder to crack was by incorporating chunks of worthless `junk' information. However, in order for someone to eventually decode the message, the recipient needed a way to easily identify and discard these strands of junk. They needed a tell.
On one of his copies of the list, Will crossed off the items with the words "if available" next to them. If his brain was leading him in the right direction, this left him with a year, 1852 reading the numbers from top to bottom. But there had to be more than that. Will wrote and rewrote different combinations, sometimes using the "if available" items, sometimes omitting them. Time ticked by as his pencil worked furiously.
"1852..." He came back to that number, speaking it to himself in the quiet study. Even if that was correct, the word "nougat" had no number next to it at all, so how did that fit in?
Will took the first letters of each item from the top down, writing them next to each other. C,A,P,R,O,F,N. Nonsense. Scratching out the letters from the "if available" items, he was left with C,A,R,O,N. Caron. William felt the gears click in his mind. It was a name. He didn't know how he knew it, but it was a name he had heard before. Caron.
Tugging at his collar and running both hands through his sandy brown hair, Will wracked his brain trying to remember. "Caron." He repeated, standing up from the chair and beginning to pace. "1852..." It was right there, so close he could almost touch it. Will felt the strain of a deadline. Even though he knew it would not be the end of the world if his mother arrived before he'd finished, he felt like this was something he needed to figure out tonight.
Another of his uncle's witty adages came back to him as he paced the study. "When time is of the essence, take a break." The seemingly unwise advice was meant for situations just like this. When things seemed urgent, Will had learned, sometimes the best thing to do was take a step back and calm the mind before diving into them again.
Taking his uncle's words to heart, Will closed his eyes. He heard the sound of the gate to the property opening as well as a motor in the distance, meaning that his mother and her driver had arrived at the estate. Will took several deep breaths before opening his eyes again.
The familiar study always felt so welcoming to him. Even now, alone and in the gathering gloom, it was the one place that met him with only warmth and fondness. His uncle's impressive library spanned every wall and several standing bookshelves. Will had read a great many of the volumes already, and some day he hoped to have finished all of them.
The obvious answer smacked Will so hard in the face that he almost fell down. "Caron, 1852..." He whispered again, this time in amazement that it had taken him so long. For someone that was supposedly so smart for his age, Will wondered, how could he possibly be so slow. "It's a book..." He groaned the conclusion that he felt he should have reached long ago.
Quickly, as the car chugged up the drive toward the house, Will scanned his uncle's library until he found what he was looking for. Pierre Caron was a little-known French writer that Will remembered his uncle mentioning once before. Not very prolific and nearly forgotten to history, the researcher's books were that combination of rare but not very valuable that led them to even further scarcity. Sure enough, Will noticed with a swell of pride that the dust was noticeably thinner on and around his 1852 publication.
The title, "Réflexions sur les Reliques de la Passion" translated into "Thoughts on the Relics of the Passion".
Will shook his head in disbelief as he pulled the book from the shelf. The relics of the Passion were holy artifacts supposedly linked to the crucifixion of Christ. The implications of his uncle guiding him to this particular book were already beginning to expand out of control in his mind. The book opened naturally to a page near the middle that had several pieces of paper folded up inside. Will's heart pounded.
The sound of the front door opening however yanked him out of his excited trance.
"William?" His mother's voice called from the front hall.
Will stashed the book under his shirt quickly. Uncle Graham had gone through a lot of effort to keep this information from being found by just anyone. Until he found out why, Will decided that he would not share his discovery.
"Coming, mum." He trotted out to the hall, brushing the hair from his eyes and trying to conceal his excitement. He had reading to do.
Helene Milton awoke at around three o'clock in the morning to the sound of the hall telephone ringing. She knew that it was three o'clock, because after the third ring of the phone, the clock in the same hallway began to chime as well, creating a cacophony of noise that should have roused the dead.
Her husband Percy however, remained undisturbed, snoring softly.
"Percy." She nudged him gently. "Percy, the telephone."
"Mmm?" Percy groaned, rolling over away from her.
"Oh, wake up." She insisted a bit louder. "It's certainly for you at this hour."
Percy grumbled something inaudible as he reluctantly rolled out of bed.
"Ask whomever it is what they mean by ringing in the middle of the night like this." Helene demanded indignantly as Percy trudged half asleep out of the bedroom and down the hall.
Helene overheard the one-sided conversation.
"Hello?" Percy's tired voice was low and gravely. "What? ... What?" His confusion was evident, but she could tell that he was starting to wake up. "Slow down, Will." Of course, it was the Conrad boy. Helene was fond of Will but found that he could certainly be impetuous. "What are you talking about?" Poor Percy was now almost fully roused and in possession of his faculties. "Can't this wait until morning?" Percy let out a long sigh. "You're sure?" She could hear the change in Percy's tone. "William if this is some sort of joke..." A long pause. "Fine... yes, fine... I'll be there shortly." Percy hung up the phone.
"What's wrong?" Helene immediately asked when her husband returned. "Did something happen at the Conrads'?"
Percy shook his head, pulling on his trousers. "Not exactly. Apparently Will has made an important breakthrough in some... research we've been working on. He says it can't wait."
Helene scoffed. "That boy is pathological, Percy. Not normal."
Letting out a short laugh, Percy nodded. "He's a Conrad." He leaned down to kiss his wife before leaving her with his love and promising to be back when she awoke.
"I'm shocked that your parents allowed you out of the house." Percy remarked as Will slid into the passenger seat of his car.
Will frowned at him. "Percy, Uncle Graham kept this a secret for a reason. We are the only ones that should know."
With a sigh, Percy rolled his eyes. "They don't know you've left." It was not a question, and Percy had suspected as much.
"This is more important." Will insisted. "They won't even notice."
"What did you find?" Percy asked, opting not to push back on Will's sneaking out.
"We need to head back to the house." Will told him. "This is bigger than anything we've done. Uncle Graham was in touch with some very powerful people. This expedition was sanctioned and funded."
"Sanctioned by whom?" Percy asked with a frown as he pulled the car away.
Will's eyes flashed. "Military Intelligence."
Percy scoffed in disbelief. "Military Intelligence? What could they want with Professor Conrad?"
"Most of it is in these letters." Will explained holding up several of the pieces of paper he had found. "They think there's a war coming, very soon. They wanted Uncle Graham to go look for... anything that might help."
Shaking his head, Percy's brow furrowed in confusion. "Help? What does the government think your uncle could find that might help with a war?"
"They sent him there to look for holy relics." Will revealed in a low tense voice.
Percy touched his fingertips to his forehead and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Holy relics." He repeated. "You had me drive out here at half three in the morning for this?"
"Percy, it's not a joke." Will insisted, sounding almost offended.
"I should hope not, because it isn't very funny." Percy replied irritably. "Holy relics." He said again in a sour tone. "Even if he found anything, they're just ordinary objects. Professor Conrad knows that. He never put stock in pseudoscience."
Will shook his head. "The Secret Service believes differently apparently. But even if they are just mundane dusty old pieces of the past, imagine the significance of finding something like that now. People would take it as a sign. Morale is a key part of winning any war."
Percy let out a long, drawn out sigh and took a moment to respond. "Was there something specific he was trying to find?"
Nodding Will answered quietly. "The Crown of Thorns."
"It's already in Notre Dame." Percy pointed out in frustration.
"Not according to Caron." Will argued, pulling out the book. "He believes that the crown was taken from Jerusalem in 1063, but that it never made it to Byzantium. His sources claim that the caravan was destroyed, and the crown was stolen. Constantinople made a fake crown to replace the one that was lost."
Glancing in the direction of the book Will was holding, Percy turned quickly back to the road as the car rumbled along. "Rumors and the words of a hundred-year-old Frenchmen who couldn't sell a book?" Percy summarized skeptically. "I still don't imagine Professor Conrad going in for that sort of thing."
Will nodded, surprising Percy with his agreement. "That's why I need to find his last journal. He must have had more than this."
"Alright..." Percy finally gave in. "I'll admit, letters from Military Intelligence might be worth investigating. But why could this not wait until morning?"
For the first time, Will had no witty retort or quick answer. After a moment's thought he replied. "Every hour we waste is another hour that Uncle Graham could be in danger."
Percy snorted. It was obvious that Will's excitement at his potential discovery had simply gotten the better of him. Percy understood the feeling, having spent so many years under Professor Conrad. When an elusive answer felt this close, it was almost impossible not to rush headlong toward it. This was something that his mentor had warned him of time and time again.
Another thought occurred to him. "Is it legal for you to have those letters? Aren't they most likely confidential?"
Yet again, Will was given pause but he recovered more quickly this time. "Uncle Graham left them for us to find. He had his reasons."
"Wonderful." Percy stated sarcastically. "I had nothing better to do with my night than perpetrate a felony." When Will did not respond, apparently not deeming it necessary, Percy continued. "So, do you have any clue where this journal might be? From what I know of the professor, he did not just leave them lying around."
Will nodded. "I'm fairly sure I know where he's hidden it. He left a hint on the back of one of his letters. We need that as well as Caron's '54 publication."
"Fine. Once you've gotten them though, I'm bringing you home. I might be able to catch another hour's sleep."
Agreeing to Percy's terms, the two spent the rest of the brief car ride in silence. Will stared out the window up at the night sky. As they neared his uncle's property, however, Will noticed something strange. Although the night was overcast, he could still tell that the sky had become hazy.
Arriving at the gate to the property, it was apparent that something was wrong. As Will hopped out of the car to open the gate, he noticed that he could see light coming from the direction of the house. The air smelled of smoke.
"Hurry!" He shouted to Percy, jumping back into the vehicle.
Hearing the urgency in Will's voice and smelling the smoke on the wind, Percy urged the v8 sedan through the open gate and up the drive. To Will's horror, when his uncle's house came into view, he could see flames rising out of the windows, lighting up the night and bathing the property in an orange glow.
"Good God..." Percy killed the engine as they came to a halt. The two got out of the car, speechless.
The fire raged from within, spreading to almost every corner of the big Victorian house. Will noticed that several windows in the study did not have visible flames and the glass panes were still intact, though the glow could still clearly be seen inside the small library.
Whether it was an unconscious tensing of his muscles or reading the determined look on his face, Percy predicted what the boy was about to do.
"Will, don't!" Percy reached out a hand to catch Will's arm but was too late. Will sprinted across the lawn, up the front step, and into the inferno, disappearing into a plume of smoke.