12 April 2012
PART 2
The rest of the journey was spent in silence. Stewart stared out the window of the SUV as it splashed through the soaked streets of Glasgow. Mrs. Turnbell drove with an almost aggressive respect for the speed limit.
It was not long after a University trip to Florence that it became clear Mrs. Morgan Turnbell and his father were dating. She was a terrible cook but it was still nice to see his dad with someone again.
Stewart imagined his father running through Kelvingrove Park in the rain, attempting to hide from his pursuer. It wasn’t cool. It didn’t play out like an Indiana Jones scene where the famous Archaeology Professor sets off on swashbuckling adventure to save the world. It just looked silly in his mind.
“I’ll drop you off at the entrance and turn the car,” Mrs. Turnbell said, driving through the gates and around the back of Kelvingrove Art Gallery. The car park was empty. Stewart glanced at the time on the dashboard. Nine thirty. He still had half an hour before it opened to the public.
Mrs. Turnbell pulled over in a space near the entrance. Stewart peered through the passenger side window at the gallery. It was an imposing looking structure with red sandstone walls that were now much deeper in colour from the heavy rain. The building itself combines a variety of styles; the best description is Spanish Baroque. Made up of two main towers it houses three floors of Dutch, Italian and French Art in addition to Sculptures from Ancient Egypt and a medieval armory.
“Be quick, Stewart.”
Leaving his school bag in the car he climbed out and ran up the steps to the main entrance to find one of the huge square doors sitting slightly ajar.
Taking a last glance back at Mrs. T he pulled the heavy door forward enough for him to slip inside.
Met by the massive Centre Hall, Stewart immediately noticed the large organ upstairs used for recitals. With no lights on in the whole building he could still make out the huge tiled room with first and second floor balcony’s looking down on him from every side; each one turning up to a high arched ceiling of gold. The interior was built with blonde sandstone pillars and archways that lined the left and right. Each leading to a different gallery or display.
Walking inside his wet trainers squeaked on the polished floor. Display panels on the reception desk glowed blue in the inky darkness. To his left was the ‘Life’ section of the museum, where he was greeted by Sir Rodger, a huge life sized Asian elephant. Following on from Sir Rodger was an area dedicated to lost wildlife. It was always a quiet little area; generally people felt a little sadness at the loss of such beautiful creatures, Stewart reckoned.
Approaching the Ancient Egypt exhibit the only light to illuminate the room was coming from the protective glass cases housing totems, statues and pots, along with other various items. Only two objects stood unprotected. A large sarcophagus and a cats head; the cats head was man size, wearing an Egyptian headscarf or crown. It was the only unprotected bust in the room.
Exhaling, Stewart walked forward. He could see the corner of a folded bit of paper sticking out from under the bust. The Blueprint. Reaching out for it he pinched the folded corner, slipping it half way from under the bust when a load thud echoed through the gallery.
Stewart froze. His heart pounded against his chest and he felt his face flush as blood rushed to his head. His mind began inventing different scenarios of horror. With his hand shaking, he jerked the blueprint from under the bust. Another thud echoed out, louder this time.
Digging the blueprint into the back pocket of his Levi denims he ran for the exit when he heard a voice. It was muffled. Stewart stopped. “Hello?!” he shouted, forcing himself to sound more confident than he felt. His voice bounced off the walls and echoed through the ground, first and second floor galleries.
Another thud. Steward looked back at the entrance. Through the gap in the door he could just spy the back of Mrs. Turnbell’s SUV break lights. Biting his lower lip he turned around.
Another thud. Followed by another. Then another. Stewart decided to follow the noise, going against all his instincts that were yelling at him to get out.
Tracking the noise back to the Egyptian exhibit he poked his head around cautiously. His eyes widened. The noise was coming from inside the two thousand six hundred year old sarcophagus.
The Merchant's Coin • Opuss № I