William Rabkin - A Fatal Frame of Mind

“Like when you and your psychic buddies decided to pool your powers and pick the winning lottery numbers?” Gus sulked. “I wouldn’t have been bored by that.”

“But you couldn’t have contributed, either,” Shawn said. “So it wouldn’t have been fair to the others.”

“You could have taken my money and given me a share of what you won,” Gus said.

Shawn shook his head wearily and turned back to Leonard. “He just doesn’t understand that people with a higher understanding naturally want to be together,” he said. “I’m glad you do.”

“They’re pumping the professor for information,” Leonard said, although a touch of uncertainty had entered his voice.

“That’s the spirit,” Shawn said. “They’re your friends, no matter what.”

Leonard stared down at his gun. Time for stage two, Gus thought.

“Are you going to let them do this to you?” Gus said.

“Do what?” Leonard said.

“Cut you out,” Gus said.

“No one’s cutting Leonard out of anything,” Shawn said. “They’re just having a nice chat about history and things like that.”

“Yeah,” Leonard said dubiously. “I mean, they’re pumping him.”

“Then why were they so quick to dismiss your idea about the London Eye?” Gus said.

“Because it’s only been there for a few years,” Leonard said.

“I didn’t hear them mention what might have been on that spot before,” Gus said. “And whether it was called the London Eye, too.”

Leonard’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Was it?”

“Don’t ask me,” Gus said. “I’m not a historian. But they sure changed the subject fast. And I didn’t hear anyone say where we were actually going, did you?”

“Stop it, Gus,” Shawn chided him. “I’m sure the Polidoris only have Leonard’s best interests at heart.”

“Sure,” Gus said. “Just like you did when you cut me out of your psychic investment club because it was just too confusing for me. And then told me you’d lost all my money, even though the rest of you made a fortune.”

“I told you, we were doing what was best for you,” Shawn said. “And when there’s something you need to know, we’ll tell you. Until then, you need to keep out of things you can’t understand.”

Leonard looked like he was about to ask a question when the van pulled to a stop and the engine switched off.

“I guess we’re here,” Gus said. “Wherever here is.”

After a moment, the back doors swung open. Chip grabbed Shawn and pulled him out, gesturing for Leonard to do the same with Gus. Behind him, Gus could see Polidori holding on to Kitteredge’s arm.

Gus let Leonard lead him out of the van. They were parked on a busy street, and the traffic hurtling past seemed louder and faster than any Gus had ever seen before. Also, it all seemed to be going in the wrong direction, but Gus assumed that he was merely suffering from jet lag or van lag or tied-up lag.

Fortunately Gus didn’t have to worry about crossing the street. Leonard pulled him away from the curb and down a tree-laden path that led away from the traffic.

“Where are we going?” Gus whispered to Shawn as Leonard came closer to Chip.

“Not to the London Eye, that’s for sure,” Shawn said loudly. “No one actually believes that’s where the sword is.”

Chip cuffed Shawn across the back of the head with his free hand. “Shut up.”

Gus glanced up to see that Leonard was eying Chip suspiciously. But before he could stoke that particular fire further, the path rounded a curve and they found themselves at their destination.

At least Gus assumed it was their destination, because the path ended at the banks of a wide gray river that even he knew to be the Thames. And because both Polidori and Kitteredge had stopped and were staring up at an enormous tapering pillar of reddish granite that sat on a huge marble base. The obelisk towered at least six stories above them, covered on all four sides by ancient hieroglyphics. Bronze sphinxes watched it from either side.

“What is that?” Gus whispered to Shawn.

“Looks like a big rock to me,” Shawn whispered back. “Aside from that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“But you made them bring us here,” Gus said.

“Did I?” Shawn said.

Gus thought back on the conversation in the warehouse. What had Shawn said? As Gus played it back he realized that Shawn hadn’t actually said anything specific. He’d restated the words in the poem, and Kitteredge and Polidori had filled in the blanks.

“I can tell you what it isn’t,” Shawn said loudly. “And that’s the London Eye. Because that’s over there.” Shawn pointed across the river, where a gigantic Ferris wheel towered over all the surrounding buildings. “Clever of them to bring us here where they can keep an eye on it-and still keep you away.”

Leonard looked longingly at the wheel until Chip shoved him toward the stone pillar.

As Shawn and Gus were led up to the pillar’s base, Polidori and Kitteredge were already deep in speculation.

“Is it possible?” Kitteredge said in wonder. “Have we finally uncovered the mystery of Excalibur?”

Shawn glanced up at the pillar. “If that’s the sword, Arthur must have been a pretty big guy,” Shawn said.

“This is Cleopatra’s Needle, you fool,” Polidori said.

“So the sword is even bigger?” Shawn said. “Because a sword’s got to be bigger than a needle.”

“Professor Kitteredge!” Gus tried to rush to him, but Leonard held him back. “This man is your mortal enemy. Stop now before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late,” Kitteredge said sadly. “I know he’s going to kill me after this, and he will have the sword. But he is letting me finish my life’s work first.”

“Do you think he might do us the same favor?” Shawn said. “Because I’ve always seen my life’s work as dying at ninety-three.”

“I am sorry that won’t be possible,” Polidori said. “But at least you have the privilege of seeing one of the world’s great mysteries solved first.”

Gus tried to pull away from Leonard. He wanted to run to the professor and shake some sense into him. But he couldn’t get free, and even if he could, he knew all the shaking in the world wouldn’t do any good. Kitteredge was in the grip of an obsession, and it would never let him go. Gus knew that because it had dragged him in, too, and if he’d spent any more time on it, he might not have been able to escape, either.

“It’s the sword’s resting place,” Polidori said. “It has to be. It fits the poem perfectly: ‘Let not my rusting tears make your sword light! Ah! God of mercy, how he turns away!’ Can’t you see it?”

Shawn and Gus looked up at the pillar.

“I see a big rock,” Shawn said.

“It was you who gave us the final clue,” Polidori said.

“That was the spirits,” Shawn said. “They didn’t bother with subtitles.”

“We should have seen this all along,” Polidori said. “The obelisk was erected in 1877, just five years before Rossetti painted that last picture.”

“But decades after the poem was written,” Kitteredge said. “That was what kept me from understanding the truth. The fact that the verse itself was not written to be a clue to the puzzle, but that Rossetti and Morris chose to construct their clue out of an existing work.”

“Well, sure, if you’d just said that before, we all would have gotten it,” Shawn said.

“Tears are water that runs down from the eye,” Polidori said. “In this case, that has to be the eye of the Needle. Tears that appear to be rusty because of the red granite it’s made of.”

“Of course, that could have meant so many things,” Kitteredge said. “But the next line is what seals it. ‘Ah! God of mercy, how he turns away!’ That could be no place but here.”