Chapter Eleven
"And that is the situation." Lucrece looked around the table at all of the board members. Cyril was gleefully lighting match after match, while Sergei was chomping on an apple. Although they did not appear to be listening attentively, she was certain they had heard everything, just as the others had. Accommodating their oddities had been profitable and useful for her in the past, so she continued to do so. They came through when they were needed.
"So now we are to vote on whether or not to help Mr. West and Mr. Gordon find this devious fiend before morning arrives," Brutus summarized.
"Yes." Lucrece laced her fingers. "Apparently going after him is dangerous. He has already turned one member of the group to gold. There wouldn't be anything stopping him from doing it to any of us."
"We are not cowards," Sergei grunted.
"But what reason is there for us to help, I ask?" Gallito spoke up. "Why not simply leave them to their own problems while we handle ours?"
"Unfortunately, Mr. West made an interesting point that Count Manzeppi wanted us involved in this mess," Lucrece said. "Maybe that was only for us to call them about Snakes, but maybe not. And if this man has other intentions for us as well, I doubt they will be for our benefit."
"Or what if they will?" Gallito said. "Perhaps if we agree to help him instead of Senor West, he will allow us use of this miraculous object."
"Do we really want somethin' around that could change any of us to gold without a second thought?" Pinto drawled.
"I know I would most certainly be careful with it," Gallito said. "But just think of how much having access to ready-made gold would help us in our plans for the future! Or even in our everyday lives!"
". . . All the food I could eat?" Sergei realized.
"All the matches I could want?!" Cyril exclaimed.
Lucrece facepalmed. "If we were to have full ownership of this object, then perhaps it would be useful," she conceded. "But do we really want to be subservient to a deranged magician who could throw us under the bus any time he chose?"
". . . That is a good point, I must admit," Gallito sighed.
"Either we help Mr. West and Mr. Gordon or we stand back and let the chaos unfold," Lucrece said. "Perhaps when it's all over, we could claim this object for ourselves."
"Although, we don't even know what it is," Pinto said.
Lucrece gave a dark smirk. "Maybe because he was afraid we would have designs on it ourselves."
"But if we don't know what it is, how will we steer clear of it?" Brutus frowned.
"Mr. West didn't tell me what it is, but it is certainly easy enough to find out." Lucrece produced the day's newspaper and pointed to an article in the Entertainment section. "They are currently making a motion picture at Majestic Studios about Mr. West and Mr. Gordon fighting against Count Manzeppi, who is attempting to recover a toy chicken and claims it's the fabled philosopher's stone. And that, as you surely know, gentlemen, is supposed to have the ability to transmute matter into gold."
Sergei scoffed. "A toy chicken?!"
"So we'll know to stay far away if the Count tries to point this little birdie at us," Pinto said, indicating the photograph of the chicken in the newspaper. "By the way, which one of them got turned to gold?"
"Not Snakes," Lucrece said boredly. "Mr. West said it was Lafe Morgan."
"Now, ain't that a shame," Pinto drawled in a half-mocking tone.
"Anyway." Lucrece looked around the table again. "How do we vote on the matter?"
Sergei chomped into his sandwich. "I vote No. We do not help."
"I vote Yes, amigo," Gallito said. "Perhaps we can claim the . . . chicken for our own along the way."
"I vote No," Cyril said. "We have already had so much trouble because of their problems."
"Problem is, their problems seem to become our problems way too much," Pinto said. "I vote Yes. Let's jump in ourselves and get it over with."
"I agree," Brutus said. "I also vote Yes."
"And so do I," Lucrece said. She started to get up. "Let's go."
The others obediently got up to follow. Hopefully they would not regret this.
Malcolm Coulter was most certainly trying Coley's patience. He was keeping up a steady stream of drunken conversation as they walked, rambling about gold, King Midas, and being one of the youngest and most successful mining tycoons around.
"Yes, sir!" he declared. "Why, my brother and I've roped in more towns than you could shake a stick at! We're rich, boy! Rich beyond your wildest dreams!"
"Considering we're looking at a golden building, I can dream up quite a lot," Coley sarcastically responded.
"Yeah, but the wealth we have won't be turnin' against us and turnin' us into statues! We just work our miners to the bone and they do the rest! We get rich on their blood, sweat, and tears and sit around counting our dough!" He gave a raucous cackle.
Coley's lip curled. This guy was disgusting. "What are you hanging around me for anyway?" he snapped.
"We're both going to the same place! Why not?" Malcolm countered. "Anyway, you seem like the kind of guy who'd appreciate our vision!"
"Well, you're wrong," Coley shot back. "I worked hard for everything I got. I always did." Even when he had been an outlaw, he had considered himself as being in a business. "I didn't sit around making others do the work for me. And I'd especially never work them harder than they could take. What would even be the point of that? They'd keel over and die and you'd have to hire more people."
"Eh. One guy falls and there's three more to replace him," Malcolm replied.
Coley set his teeth. "You know, what I'd really appreciate is to biff you one. So unless you want the business end of my fist, you'll just shut up while you're pestering me. And if I see a cop, I'll say I'm being harassed."
If he was hoping to intimidate Malcolm, he was sadly disappointed. Instead, the creep stood up to his full height, swaying drunkenly as he responded. "I'll have you know that I can dish out anything you can!" he said, shakily poking Coley in the chest with a finger. "And I'll be sure to tell any police officer that you just threatened me with bodily harm when we were having a nice, friendly chat!"
"Fine. Do that." Out of patience, Coley slugged Malcolm full in the face. The drunkard fell back with a sputtering gasp, crashing on the grass with his feet flying high in the air. Blood spurted from his nose. Not staying to inspect the scene further, Coley stalked off around the corner.
"I guess it's too much to hope for that there'd be a warrant out for his arrest," he muttered.
But he would certainly be looking into the matter regardless.
Several minutes later, as Malcolm recovered enough to sit up and inspect his nose, a shadow fell across him and he looked up at a man in a blue shirt. "Well, what the heck happened to you?" the man drawled.
Malcolm went stiff. "You again!" he rumbled. ". . . How'd you change your shirt so fast?!"
The man quirked an eyebrow. "You saw somebody who looked like me?"
Malcolm frowned. Even drunk, he could see this guy was completely different than the one who had just punched him. ". . . Say, what's the deal with you anyway?! Are you his twin brother or something?!"
"Let's just say 'or something.'" Pinto stood turning his lasso around in his hands. "When did you see the other one?"
"Just a few minutes ago!" Malcolm sputtered. "I was telling him all about my mining business and he went and clocked me! Then he stomped off!" He struggled up. "I think he broke my nose!"
"Heh." Pinto didn't make any move to help him. "You know, normally he's fairly calm, cool, and collected. What did you say to set him off so much?"
"Nothing, really," Malcolm said. "Just about how I run my business pushing my miners to their absolute limits."
Pinto's eyes glimmered in sadism. "Yeah? I have to make a little phone call, but then how about you tell me more."
Malcolm took off his red bandanna to press against his nose. "Just as long as you don't sock me too."
"I wouldn't dream of it. I think we're going to get along real swimmingly." Pinto took out his phone and quickly dialed a number. "Lucrece? I've got a fella here who says he just saw Coley Rodman."
A swift Internet search later, Snakes had learned of several churches in the area that had holy water available for blessings and healings. Arte set out for the nearest one with Snakes in tow, still skeptical of this whole thing.
"And what if this just doesn't work, huh?" Snakes said in concern as they hurried down the sidewalk.
"Then we're no worse off then we are now," Arte said.
"Maybe it really is just a statue," Snakes said. "You'll look pretty silly pouring water on a real statue."
"So I'll look silly!" Arte retorted. "That's hardly the worst thing in the world." He slowed to a stop. "Snakes, what's the real reason you're balking at this so much?"
Snakes stopped too, and looked away in guilt. "I . . . I could say a whole host of things: that I'm worried it's sacrilegious to take this on yourself, that I'm worried you'll be hurt, that I'm worried we will make it worse . . . but . . ." He sighed. "I think it all boils down to that I'm afraid it won't work. And I'm afraid that if I'm along, my lack of faith will ruin it if it would've worked otherwise. I don't wanna do that to Lafe or to you. So . . . since I just can't make myself fully believe . . . I think it'd be better if I'm not along."
"Oh Snakes." Arte smiled, touched. "I'm sorry if I've been pushing you. I haven't meant to. I guess I hoped that if it really is real, I could share something incredible with you."
"And I appreciate that and all," Snakes said. "I just don't wanna be what wrecks everything for Lafe. He deserves better than that."
Arte laid a hand on Snakes' shoulder. "I don't think you could wreck anything for anyone now," he said sincerely. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you would rather not go in the church with me, that's fine. I won't press it. You shouldn't have to go in if you're not ready."
"I don't know if I'll ever be ready," Snakes admitted. "But I don't want to try to deal with my problems when Lafe's are so much worse right now."
"I understand," Arte said. He started walking again. "I'll just go in and get the water. Alright?"
"I think that's for the best," Snakes said. He walked with Arte to the beautiful old church and even up the steps, but then stopped on the porch. "I'll just wait here."
Arte nodded. "I shouldn't be long." He hauled open the heavy door, allowing Snakes a glimpse of the foyer beyond, and stepped inside.
Snakes sighed, slumping against the wall to wait. "Is this really the solution, God?" he said aloud. "Is anything? Are you really gonna let Lafe die? . . . If he's not already dead, I mean. . . . Why is he still here if that's not what happened to that lady? What's that even mean?!"
But there were no answers, or if there were, Snakes couldn't make them out. Still, he persisted.
". . . If Arte's right and this'll help, then . . . please let it really work. Please don't not do something because I'm not sure what to think of it. Please . . . just save Lafe. Please. . . ."
The door opened and Arte came back out, a small bottle in hand. "I have it," he announced. "Let's go back."
Snakes pushed away from the wall in relief. "Did you have any trouble getting it?"
"No, not at all," Arte said. "They had an amazing feature in there, a holy water dispenser. I filled this bottle. I try to always keep one or two on me. You never know when you might need one!"
Snakes quirked an eyebrow. "Whatever works for you, Pal."
They headed back to the hotel with Arte in fairly good spirits, which only worried Snakes all the more. If it didn't work out, he hated to think of how disappointed and discouraged and let-down Arte would feel. Not to mention that it would only further the idea that nothing could be done for Lafe, and that would devastate all of them, Snakes included.
". . . So why do you really think Lafe didn't disappear?" Snakes finally spoke as they got back to the hotel and slipped in a side entrance to avoid the people still congregated in front.
"I don't know," Arte said honestly. "I know what I hope and wish would be true. And we'll be finding out any minute now." He led Snakes into the elevator and up to the top floor, where they got out and went up the stairs to the roof.
Napoleon met them at the top. "Illya is still running tests, but nothing is conclusive," he said with a frown.
Arte sighed. "Let's hope this is." He walked outside to the roof and knelt down by the lifeless form. "I'll take over here."
"Very well." Illya gathered his equipment and stood. "You are going to use the holy water then?"
"Yes, I am." Arte took a deep breath and uncorked the bottle. Please let this work. Please restore Lafe to life.
Everyone watched tensely as Arte poured the water all over the golden body. For a moment nothing happened. Then in a flash of light, the gold began to melt away, pooling on the roof. Underneath, flesh was visible.
Snakes gasped. Could it be?
Lafe shot upright, gasping and choking for air. "Oh gosh. . . ." He coughed and sputtered, his hat falling back on his head. "That was . . . the worst experience I've ever gone through."
"Lafe!" Arte gripped the other man's shoulders. "You're alive! Thank God, you're alive!"
Snakes dropped to his knees, still in disbelief. "It worked," he whispered. "It really worked."
Lafe clutched Arte's arms and reached to touch Snakes. "You guys . . . you didn't give up on me. . . . I'm real sorry about this . . . for worrying you and Coley and everyone. . . ."
"You're okay?!" Snakes blurted. "After what you just went through, you're actually okay?!"
"Yeah, I am now!" Lafe assured him. "Stupid . . . I was so stupid bringing the chicken with me. . . ."
"For all we know, maybe it was the only choice you could have made," Arte said. "Lafe, we're so glad you're safe!"
Napoleon and Illya just stood by, Napoleon smiling and Illya's usually impassive expression showing utter shock. In spite of everything, he had really not believed such an outcome was possible, nor that Lafe had really been turned to gold in the first place. And judging from how it had pooled on the roof, it seemed instead that perhaps it had been an encasing.
Lafe was blushing at the attention he was receiving, but he seemed to like it. "Oh, you guys. . . ." He looked to Snakes with a start. "Where's Coley, anyway?!"
Snakes sighed. "We're trying to find him. He flipped when he saw you and ran out gunning for Manzeppi."
"Oh no." Lafe stumbled to his feet. "We've got to find him! Does he think I was trying to go into business for myself?!"
"I don't know for sure," Snakes said. "But he was maddest at Manzeppi."
Arte stood up too. "What did happen, Lafe?" he asked. "Why are you on the roof in the first place?"
"I was trying to get downstairs to put the chicken in the vault," Lafe said. "Oh, I'll admit I was tempted to use it, and I even started to go off to do it, but I didn't go through with it! I turned around to go to the elevator and Manzeppi jumped me! I fought with him and his men and one of them got the chicken from me. I chased him up to the roof and got it back, but . . ." He shuddered. "The moon was out. . . ."
"Lafe, I'm so sorry," Arte said. "I wonder if the reason Gerda disappeared and you didn't was because she was consumed with her greed while you wanted to do something to help. Perhaps she did turn to solid gold while the gold only covered you superficially, unable to reach your heart because you were still noble."
"Well, maybe. I don't know. Right now I just want to find Coley," Lafe said.
"We're all in agreement on that," Arte said.
"So this little adventure has a happy ending," Napoleon mused.
"What are you going to write in our report?" Illya asked him. "Surely you're not going to tell the entire truth."
"I don't see how to tell what happened without telling all of it," Napoleon said. "Anyway, Mr. Waverly would want to know the exact outcome after talking with Mr. Gordon about it."
"I suppose you're right, Napoleon," Illya relented. "But I wonder if he will believe it."
"He believed enough to send us out here," Napoleon said.
Well, Illya couldn't deny that, at least.
"Can you call Coley?" Lafe asked as he half-stumbled and limped to the door.
Arte and Snakes stayed right with him to help him along. "Unfortunately, he dropped his phone and he isn't anywhere near it," Arte sighed. "But we can call Jim and Mr. Norman."
"Oh. . . . That's good, but . . . Coley . . ." Lafe looked out worriedly towards the city lights.
"We'll find him," Arte said firmly.
"Meanwhile, we'll just . . . clean up here and then start looking for Count Manzeppi," Napoleon interjected.
Arte glanced back. "Of course. Thank you so much for your help."
"Well, we weren't able to actually do much, but I'm glad we were here to witness this miracle," Napoleon said, and smiled sidelong at Illya.
"Yes," Illya said. "I never once thought we would see anyone brought back from such a fate. Or that something like this could happen to someone to begin with."
Lafe grimaced. "I wish I didn't know it's possible. Come on, let's hurry and go."
Arte nodded. "Jim and Mr. Norman have the car. We'll have to call a cab."
Snakes got out his phone again. "I'm on it."
Soon the transportation was arranged and they continued their descent to the ground floor. Lafe leaned back against the elevator railing, completely worn-out but alert and worried.
". . . Are you okay?" Snakes gruffly asked. "I mean, that's a stupid question, but . . ."
"I'm okay," Lafe said. "It's like coming out of some kind of nightmare you can't really believe is real, even though it is."
". . . Were you . . . uh . . . aware of anything?" Snakes wondered. Lafe had seemed like he was, which was also unsettling. Snakes wasn't sure what was worse, to know or not to know.
Lafe looked away. "Yeah."
Sensing this was not a conversation Lafe wanted to have, Snakes held his phone out to Arte. "Here," he said. "Go ahead and call Ray and West."
Arte took it. "Thank you, Snakes." He swiftly dialed.
Ray soon answered. "Hello? I hope you have better news than we have." He sighed. "No sign of Coley or Manzeppi anywhere!"
That twisted Arte's insides, but he still had to smile. "Thankfully, Mr. Norman, I have wonderful news." He held the phone out to Lafe.
Lafe looked awkward, but he spoke into it. "Hi. . . ."
"Lafe?!" There was the sound of brakes being loudly put on. "You're alright?!"
"Yeah," Lafe said. "I am."
"How did you do it, Arte?" Jim asked as he came on the line too.
"Oh, I didn't really do anything," Arte smiled. "I just figured out what might work and got it. The Man Upstairs did the rest."
"Well, good work figuring out what to get," Jim said.
"It was holy water, by the way," Arte interjected.
"That's amazing," Ray said. "Maybe you'd better get some more in case something else goes wrong tonight."
"I think that's a very good idea, Mr. Norman," Arte said. "We're heading out now to catch our cab. We'll get more holy water and then join the search. And pray that we'll find them soon."
"Keep in touch," Jim said.
"We will, Jim," Arte said. "And you be careful. None of those wild, wild antics now, you hear?"
"Not unless I have to," Jim deadpanned.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Arte retorted.
"Goodbye, Arte."
"Goodbye, James." Arte hung up and handed the phone back to Snakes.
Within moments they were climbing into a taxi cab and heading back towards the church, Lafe in the middle between Arte and Snakes. It still seemed unreal that he was there, alive and breathing. From his expression, he really felt the same.
Arte had to smile again as they rode. Their problems weren't over yet, but they had been granted a miracle. He was certain that one way or another, everything would be alright.
