Montaro Caine A Novel

35





THE FOLLOWING MORNING, CAINE GATHERED THE MOZELLES and Anna Hilburn in his living room. He had ordered breakfast for all of them, but as they sat around his table, no one touched the food or coffee. Though none of them had seen the model of the Seventh Ship open to reveal its breathtaking display, each could detect the astonishment Montaro had experienced and the new strength it had given him. He spoke, almost as if possessed.

“Something happened to me last night, something so riveting, so amazing that even I have trouble believing it, and yet I must ask you to understand that every bit of it is true,” Montaro said, his voice hushed as he told the story of what he had seen.

“From where I stand at this moment, it appears that the strands of each of our lives are being woven into a destiny still unclear, and as yet untold,” he said. “Perhaps we are closer to that destiny than we think. There is no question in my mind that we are already an inseparable part of something unique and astounding. Consider everything we have seen up to this point. Consider the minuscule particles dislodged from the original coin that have reunited with it. How could those particles perform such a feat? How could they escape an airtight cast-iron safe, whisk themselves across thousands of miles of ocean to another continent, and, there, reaffix themselves on the coin exactly where they were originally located, all in what must have been only a matter of seconds, if that long?”

Caine stood, then walked over to the desk phone. “I am going to ask your indulgence in something that might strike you as unethical,” he said. “I want you to listen in on a private conversation, if the person I am calling is available. If you’re uncomfortable with this, feel free to leave the room.”

No one moved, so Caine picked up the phone and dialed. Moments later, a voice came through the speakerphone. “Hello?”

“Is this Kritzman Fritzbrauner?” asked Caine.

“Yes …”

“Montaro Caine, here. Forgive this intrusion.”

“No intrusion, Montaro. What can I do for you?”

“Are you in your office as we speak?”

“I am.”

“Would you please go to your safe, open it, and tell me if the coin you purchased from Cordiss Krinkle is exactly where you left it?”

In the void of a silent pause, an instant alert to danger could be heard in Fritzbrauner’s voice. “Is this some kind of joke? Tell me, why should something in my safe not be where I left it?” he asked.

“Because it’s possible that the coin has disappeared, however strange that may sound to you. It is of great importance to both of us that you look. Please, I urge you, check the safe now.”

Fritzbrauner chuckled. “You have stumped me, Montaro,” he began.

“Let me be clear,” Caine interrupted, his voice somber. “Neither you nor I, nor anyone else, can claim outright ownership of either of the coins. We all have a stake in their fate, but ownership is out of the question—no matter what the price. Not even Whitney Carson Walker and her husband, in whose tiny hands the coins first entered this world, can claim outright ownership of them. Now, with the birth of their first child drawing near, I believe that something highly unusual and monumental may be about to take place, something astonishing and historic. But for now, all I’m asking is for you to please check your safe.”

After a long pause, Fritzbrauner spoke. “All right, Montaro. I will do it now.”

Through the speakerphone, Caine could hear a deep intake of breath, and then an exhalation. In a surprisingly even tone, Fritzbrauner spoke. “It’s not there, Montaro. So tell me, where is it?”

Caine chose his words carefully. “As you may recall, during dinner at your home, you asked me a question that I could not answer. You asked me what I made of that fellow Matthew Perch. At the time, I had very little knowledge of the man.”

“And now?” asked Fritzbrauner.

“Much has changed.”

“I see,” Fritzbrauner said. “But what does this Matthew Perch have to do with my safe, or the personal property in it?”

“I don’t know for sure. But I’ve come to believe that Matthew Perch is more than we have imagined. Possibly more than we are capable of imagining. His life, it seems, embodies destinies, miracles, and truths that are inextricably intertwined with your life, my life, and the lives of countless others, in ways that logic and reason cannot explain. Matthew Perch and I have never met, and yet I believe he knows everything he needs to know about me. I also believe he knows all he needs to know about you, about Roland Gabler, about Richard Davis, the Mozelles, Carrie Pittman, and about Cordiss Krinkle. In short, I believe that Matthew Perch knows each of us who has claimed or has sought to exercise control or ownership of the coins. Before a third coin arrives, as I expect it soon will, I believe that the mountain should go to Muhammad.”

“Montaro,” said Fritzbrauner, his voice snappy, “exactly what are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that you put aside your personal agenda and your judgment and, for once, believe in something other than your money,” Caine fired back.

“Well, by my judgment,” Fritzbrauner said, “that’s a very tall order. What makes you feel that any of those people you mentioned will even be received by this mysterious gentleman, even if he is all that you perceive him to be? By Howard’s own records, the man has received only two other human beings in the past twenty-six years: Mozelle’s wife and Hattie Sinclair. My take on Perch is that he is no more than an eccentric hermit who wants to be left alone.”

“I respectfully disagree,” said Caine. “I firmly believe that he is waiting to meet us. And here’s something else: I also believe that what you call your ‘property,’ which by some inexplicable process has left your safe, is now in the possession of Matthew Perch.”

“Montaro,” Fritzbrauner said. “What you believe is entirely up to you. I need facts, evidence. I paid a price for a piece of property, which has now gone missing. Whatever mystical way you came by your knowledge and believe it to be in the possession of this Perch character is not enough.”

“Kritzman, I can explain the ‘how’ and the ‘why’ to you, as I understand them. As to the larger and more pressing question of ‘to what end,’ my guess is that Perch will have to provide that answer. Time is running out. This is an opportunity that may never come again.”

“A moment, Montaro,” Fritzbrauner said. “By what procedure was my property removed from my safe, and by whom? I would greatly appreciate whatever you can tell me.”

“I believe you already know the answer to that question. But you are not yet ready to accept it,” said Caine. “The truth is that you can’t win this one; but losing could teach each of us more than we ever thought we would know. There are huge, unimagined lessons waiting for us if we join forces and work together. In the end, what you hear may well be worth the money you have paid. I urge you to think about it and call me when you have reached a decision.”

Caine hung up the phone, then turned to the others in his living room. “What I’ve just told Fritzbrauner,” he said, “is what I learned last night, not through words, but through the images I saw.”

After a moment of silence in which each individual seated in Caine’s living room seemed to consider the implications of his statement, Howard Mozelle spoke up. “What about the second coin, the one Gabler has? Has it disappeared as well?”

“We’ll find out soon enough, but I’m certain it has,” Caine said. “And I’m equally certain that I know where it is.”

“And where is that?” Howard Mozelle asked.

“In the hands of Matthew Perch,” said Caine.