The Fifth Stone Read online

  “I’m stunned. We have sat here many a night criticizing the war, the decision to invade—the whole scene.”

  “I know; what a twist! My back is against the wall. I can’t spend another winter in my situation, with no home and no profession. It’s all about money.”

  “Have you signed up yet?”

  “Not yet; I need to get Mrs. De to Florida.”

  “Are you able to get some education out of the deal?”

  “Doubtful, but I don’t need more education. I have a degree, and I am a licensed EMT, so I may escape using a gun. It’s all about not having a place to call my own, a nest egg to fall back on.”

  Adam cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. “EMT, eh?”

  Michael looked up, staring at his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar. “I have a degree in science too.”

  The bartender looked over his eyeglasses. “I’ll be curious to see what the military offers you. The EMT thing may work in your favor.”

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Michael finished his drink and headed out. He thought about the prospect of being in the military. It wasn’t the best idea, although right now, it was the only plausible solution.

  He reached the door to the hostel and opened it, letting himself in with a cold blast of air. “Hey, Boots, what’s up? Still reading?”

  Boots grunted a response as Michael climbed the stairs. The other men in his room were snoring away. There was a faint odor of liquor intermingled with stale cigarette smoke. He climbed into bed, and before long, sleep stole him from his thoughts.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When morning came, he was up and out onto the street in quick time. He mulled over his plan for the day. It was a rare Indian summer day—the last kiss of summer. Where should he go first? It was too early to visit Sara. He decided to head over to Mrs. De’s.

  As he walked, he pondered the upcoming discussion with Sara. He knew too well that diaries could be very personal. When the sister became ill, why didn’t she make a decision? He was pretty sure she knew she was dying. So why did she leave it there? All theories were up for debate, and in just a few more hours, there would be some idea of what to do.

  He caught the bus to Mrs. De’s place. The bus was the polar opposite of the subway; people were much more talkative, and there were often friendly conversations between strangers. His stop came, and he wove his way through the side streets.

  So far, Mrs. De’s moving process had been coming along well. The preliminary packing had been done, and the place looked a lot more spacious and show-able. It was time to plan some meetings with the realtors.

  Michael met her out in front of the store where she was sweeping the sidewalk. “Hey, Mrs. De, Danny said you had the names of the realtors you wanted to interview.”

  Michael watched as she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. She produced a list with five realtors’ names, phone numbers, and appointment times. He was amazed by her organizational skills. Michael offered to attend all the meetings, and they chatted for a while.

  Michael’s next stop would be to see Sara. His curiosity was growing by the minute. “Okay, Mrs. De, I’m going over to see Sara.”

  “Give her my love, will you?”

  “Of course. Bye for now.”

  Mrs. De waved and went back to her sweeping.

  *******

  Danny was busy wiping down the coffee station as Michael entered.

  “Hey, Danny! I want to pick Sara’s brain about something.”

  “Sure, Michael, go ahead. She is up there, reading.”

  Michael leapt up the stairs two at a time. This was the moment!

  He knocked on the door. “Come on in!” He opened the door and saw the tin box sitting on the table in front of her; he sat down on a chair close by. She continued, “I’m excited. I have thought about this issue, and I think we should go ahead. It seems to me that opening the tin is a minor issue. It’s more about the decision once we know what is in there. We’ll know soon enough. If there is anything in there we need to tend to, I want to be logical and respectful.”

  Michael smiled, “Shall we get to it?”

  Sara lowered her eyes. “Michael, may we say a little prayer for guidance?”

  “Sure.”

  She bowed her head. “Dear God, please help us respect Sister Abbey’s privacy. If there is something we need to take care of, our wish is to honor her. Please guide us. Amen.”

  Michael took a deep breath and rubbed his palms on his jeans. He picked up the tin and pried off the stubborn lid. He wondered if the difficulty in opening it was an omen. The lid finally gave way with a final screech, and out fell a letter and a package; he unfolded the pages. The package was wrapped in a thin, waxy, brown paper encased in a zip-lock bag. A musty odor emanated from the folded documents. In the middle of the letter, four additional smaller pieces of paper fell out. They appeared much older, and each piece disclosed a section with a simple, hand-drawn map. It was a great temptation to unwrap the package first; instead, he followed proper protocol—the written words came first. He began with the handwritten letter, moving his chair close to Sara. They read it together:

  To The Person Who Finds This Letter,

  I have put my trust in God to determine who will find this letter. My rationale will become evident as you read my story.

  My name is Abreanne O’Noonan, and I was born and raised in Ireland. I have not spoken to anyone regarding the following events. This will serve two purposes: the location of the Book of Kells cover and my life story.

  Most recollections of my early years are somewhat clouded. Perhaps a few of my memories are pure fantasy; however, these are my unexaggerated recollections. I have a story to tell, which may involve a significant finding. After extensive research, I am convinced the enclosed map may lead to unearthing an ancient artifact of great value.

  I recall early memories of my parents and my nanny Annalise. As my caregiver, she and I were extremely close. I recall snippets of my early days. My parents took many long trips. Our home was large; the rooms were filled with overstuffed furniture. My play yard was a large area filled with trees and flowers.

  Life went on in a pleasant manner until that dreadful day when uniformed men arrived at our door. Mother and Daddy went away with them in a shiny black car. I never saw them again. I remember my parents were calm; they reassured me they would return soon. Annalise appeared quite shaken; she said they were ‘on an important mission.’ She never wavered from this response no matter how many times I enquired. However, she did avoid looking me in the eye when she spoke of them.

  A short time later, Annalise advised me that it was necessary for me to attend a boarding school ‘for a wee while.’ I shall never forget the day of my departure.

  It was cold and rainy as Annalise and I rode by a horse-drawn carriage to a foreboding, gray building near the outskirts of Dublin. She escorted me inside, and after speaking to a matron, she made an abrupt exit without saying goodbye. As I climbed the stairs with the matron, I remember watching Anna through a drizzly, wet window. I recall the water that had splashed on Anna’s skirts. Her shoes were covered in mud as she climbed back into the carriage. She held a handkerchief to her face and appeared to be crying. Needless to say, I was devastated. I felt abandoned and cried for weeks. I hid under my cold sheets and stiff wool blankets; I was miserable. From this point forward, I slept in a room with eleven other girls. Soon enough, I realized this was not a school; it was a home for abandoned children. Most children knew why they were there. I assumed I was there because Anna could no longer care for me financially. Where were my mother and father? I was not angry with Annalise, I knew she loved me; this horrendous change must have been necessary.

  The years passed; I felt as if I were in a vacuum. Everything about the Home was regimented, bleak, and loveless.

  I befriended a few of the girls, and we stuck together, protecting ourselves from the usual menacing of ol
der teens. One day, the matron at the orphanage announced that I had a visitor. I was sure one of my parents had come to get me. I followed her down the long, hollow corridor with great anticipation. The walls of the hallway seemed to be closing in on me. This perception remains as vivid as though it were yesterday. A million or more thoughts raced through my mind as we marched along. I can still hear the echo of our footsteps as we made our way toward the mysterious visitor. The entrance to the foyer revealed the silhouette of a woman who looked vaguely familiar. It was Annalise. My heart danced! She would know where my parents were! Was she taking me home?

  We went for a walk around the grounds of the orphanage. She explained that the county had taken our home due to unpaid taxes. She had no idea where my parents were at that moment. She had received a letter from them a while ago; they were in Switzerland. Their letter came just before our home was seized. In the letter, my parents instructed Annalise to look behind the large painting hanging over their bed. A jeweled cover would be hidden between the canvas and the paper backing. This cover was considered to be of great value and part of an ancient book containing the four gospels. She was to remove it and keep it hidden. She was not to divulge this matter to anyone other than me. The whereabouts of the cover should be passed on to me (at a later date) if they did not return.

  The cover belonged to a manuscript called the Book of Columcille or Kells. It was known by both names. The book, with its cover intact, contained the four New Testament books, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. It had been stolen in the year 1077 and was discovered soon after in a ditch under some peat, but the cover and the last few chapters of John were missing. This theft is well-documented by many historians. She claimed the cover was highly valued and sought after by nefarious persons. Annalise was convinced one of them lived near her town. There was a man with an obvious limp who seemed out of character from the usual inhabitants of her village. The neighbors claimed that he was very nosy regarding Annalise and her background. She explained that it was imperative for the cover to remain hidden until I was old enough to decide what to do with it. I have since read many accounts of this theft. As Annalise had said, historians confirmed that a few months later, the four books were recovered from a ditch near Kells. At this point, the jeweled cover and the last few chapters of the Book of John were not recovered and are still missing. Annalise had the cover in her possession, but she knew nothing of the missing chapters. As far as she knew, the remaining chapters of St. John were never found. She was concerned that whenever the cover became public knowledge, there would be much scrutiny and suspicion due to the missing chapters not being part of the discovery.

  She hid the cover and my parents’ letter. I have remembered, verbatim, the information she shared with me.

  Annalise explained that the precious cover was wrapped in oilcloth and hidden on the property of her small home in County Meath. Whenever I chose to retrieve it, I should question whether it was time to pass it on to the proper authorities, or continue to keep it concealed. There could be relentless scrutiny due to the fact missing chapters were not with the cover. The cover was my sole item of inheritance. It was obvious she felt I should reap some monetary benefit. She spoke to me about the blood, sweat, and tears the family had experienced in order to keep this cover safe. She emphasized the subsequent hardship for me in an orphanage. The depth of the information stunned me. The whole meeting took place during one brief visit.

  Annalise did not want to wait any longer to inform me of the hiding place, just in case something happened to her. She had included me on the title of the cottage she owned. Somehow, she paid the taxes several years in advance, thus giving me plenty of time to retrieve the cover. She explained that her property included the ruins of a stone barn. The barn is pretty much decimated; only three sidewalls and a chimney are still standing, and there is no roof. This type of old barn remains a common sight in the Irish countryside. The cover is buried in an exact place on the inside perimeter of the dilapidated barn’s stone wall.

  She handed me a map, along with my parents’ letter. There were no names on the map; it would mean nothing unless the person knew the starting location. She asked me to memorize the name of the town, which is Duleek, and also the exact starting location, which is the Abbey Tower. The cottage is one mile west of the tower, then five miles north on the right hand side of the road. There is a little bridge just before the cottage entrance. The map reveals the precise location. It is underneath the fifth stone on the bottom right side (as you enter the barn).

  We hugged goodbye, and once more, I watched her walk out of my life. Her familiar hug is forever attached to my heart. At times, I am able to conjure up Annalise’s warmth and strength. Her ensuing departure was my worst nightmare.

  While I waited for the opportune time to retrieve the cover, I split the map into four pieces and kept one section hidden in each of the four chapters of the Disciples. I meant to seek out the cover, but the time never came. Although the thought was secretive and exciting, my priorities at the time were directed to my immediate situation. The more important thing to me was my physical freedom, not the cover.

  At last, I received an offer to become a novitiate at a convent in Dublin. I jumped at the opportunity. As a nun, my plan would be to help youngsters who had also experienced trauma in their lives.

  As fate would have it, with a mere two days’ notice, I was offered an immediate transfer to St. John’s Convent in New York City. I was whisked away by a visiting American nun. Life in New York has been satisfying, as I have been able to work with children. I have no regrets regarding my decision to leave Ireland.

  Due to my cloistered life in Ireland, I had no idea of the historical and monetary value of the cover until my arrival in New York. I researched the history of the Book of Kells, the missing cover, and the last chapters. As I write this, there is no news indicating either the cover or chapters have been discovered. Sadly, at a later date, I did find an on-line article in a Swiss paper—my parents had been murdered. The authorities were seeking a fringe group of IRA. The Swiss stated the murder involved stolen artifacts belonging to Ireland, but they did not elaborate further. There were no follow-up articles regarding their murders.

  Annalise felt the majority of people continued to believe the last chapters of John would be found with the cover. There could be great scrutiny if the cover turned up without the chapters. Adding to my concern, there was an occult sect who believed the last chapters of John were stolen because they were contradictory to the current version of the Holy Bible. This might initiate an uproar in the Christian Church. I want you to know what challenges lie ahead.

  Please understand, as a deceased Catholic nun, I do not want my name tangled up in a gigantic fiasco. If you must divulge my identity, you have my permission, but I prefer to remain anonymous. I have no living heirs; this was confirmed during Anna’s last visit here at my convent.

  During her last and only visit here, she had end-stage cancer. She was not aware my parents had been murdered, and although she appeared sad about the news, she acknowledged she felt something terrible had happened to them. She remained steadfast in her claim to have known nothing about the cover until she read the letter of instruction from my parents.

  She handed me a tin of cookies; beneath two layers, a false bottom revealed a large amount of Euro currency. She did not want insufficient funds to deter me from recovering the treasure.

  It is not my wish to direct you from my grave. However, I feel Ireland is the rightful owner of the cover. There is some debate as to the origin of the manuscript; England and Scotland have been mentioned, a fact that might also have made it difficult for me to deal with the various claims of ownership. It was in Ireland’s possession at the time of the theft. This search will involve a trip to County Meath in Ireland. I have enclosed the money to pay for the trip and expenses. Anna reiterated how ashamed she was of leaving me at the orphanage. She hoped the money from the sale of the cover would com
e to good use. Please use the money included in this package to search for the cover. Of course, you are entitled to any monetary gains from the sale of the cover. The proceeds are under your control; but it is likely to be a large sum of money. My wish is that a charitable organization will benefit from any fortune you acquire. If this should become a legal issue, I give you permission to produce these letters for clarification. The four sections of the map are enclosed, along with the letter to Annalise from my parents.

  May you proceed with God’s blessing, under conditions that keep you out of harm’s way.

  God speed,

  Sr. Abreanne O’Noonan

  Michael looked up at Sara; she appeared spellbound. He could hear the clock ticking by the endless moments of silence. Michael put the papers and the unopened package on the coffee table and sank back in his chair. After some time, he expressed his amazement. “This was way more than I bargained for.”

  Sara let out a huge sigh, “It’s a lot to digest. I suppose the first thing would be to research this Book of Kells.”

  Michael was embarrassed. “My computer skills leave a lot to be desired.”

  “I’d be glad to help, Michael. It would be a welcome diversion—this is so mysterious!”

  “Be my guest. What is the right thing to do in a case like this?” He stared at the package and examined the wrapping. “I’d like to decide whether I’m committed to making the trip before I open the parcel containing the money. If I opened it now, and find a good sum of money, I may be tempted to jump right in without weighing the magnitude of this venture. This is so intriguing. Nevertheless, I want to be committed to the physical and mental part of this before I get into the financial end of it.”

  “I don’t blame you; we should research and see if her story appears valid.”

  “Before we open the parcel, perhaps we should create a list of what this would entail. I would be preparing to travel out of the country, to Ireland, for starters. I want to have a clear head about the approximate cost. Time is not an issue. If the money covers the expense of this search, it would be tempting to proceed. If, by any chance, the cover is found, there would be a question of storage until I decide the next step. If the package doesn’t provide enough money, we’ll research other options.