Free The Mask of Destiny by Richard Newsome Page A

thumping in his ears like a bass drum. When the door opened he rolled out onto the kitchen floor. Sam and Ruby were by the table. They held the backpacks from their shopping trip that day. Mrs Rutherford was tucking a parcel into Sam’s pack.
    â€˜Some food for the road,’ she said in a business-like fashion. ‘Miss Ruby has told me all I need to hear. So hop to it. Mr Fry is waiting in the Rolls.’
    Gerald threw his arms around the housekeeper’s neck and squeezed. She closed her eyes and squeezed back. ‘Your great aunt said you would be tested one day. It looks like that day has come.’
    â€˜Thanks, Mrs Rutherford,’ Gerald said. ‘For everything.’
    Tears welled in Mrs Rutherford’s eyes. She dabbed them away with a corner of her apron. The sound of boots approaching clattered down from the hall above.
    â€˜You best be going. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.’
    Gerald gave her one more hug then followed Sam and Ruby out the kitchen door and down the stairs to the back drive. Mr Fry was in the driver’s seat of the Rolls, engine running.
    â€˜Where to, sir?’ Fry asked as they piled into the back seat. It was the first time Fry had sounded remotely sincere since Gerald had met him.
    â€˜Are you ready for a helicopter flight?’ he asked the butler.
    The car sent up a spray of white pebbles as it turned out of the drive.
    â€˜Where are you going, Gerald?’ Sam asked.
    â€˜France,’ Gerald said. ‘Want to come?’

Chapter 7

    T hey skimmed past the last lights on the edge of the coast and headed across the English Channel; the only sound was the dull fwup of helicopter blades slicing through the night air.
    Gerald’s head rested on the kid leather of his seat in the Sikorsky S–76 chopper as they beat a path towards the French coast. A thousand thoughts battled for dominance, but Gerald knew one thing for certain: someone was trying to frame him for the murder of Sir Mason Green. He screwed up his eyes. Just when he thought his worries were over.
    â€˜So who is she?’ Ruby’s voice cut through his brooding. ‘The woman in the cat suit. She knew exactly where to look for the ruby.’
    â€˜I don’t know. But I bet she planted that blowgun in my room.’
    Sam undid his seatbelt and slid onto the floor between Ruby and Gerald. ‘Whoever she is, she must be searching for the third casket,’ he said. ‘Those golden rods must be worth a fortune—it’s not like Gerald would be the only one wanting Mason Green dead.’
    â€˜Thanks a lot,’ Gerald said. ‘Now you’re making it sound like I did kill him.’
    â€˜That Inspector Jarvis sure wasn’t listening,’ Ruby said. ‘He’s convinced you did it.’
    Gerald stared out the window into the gloom. A bank of clouds lay dark and bruised ahead.
    â€˜Where are we going?’ Sam asked.
    Gerald pulled the drawing of the castle out of his backpack and unfolded it on his lap.
    â€˜Do you remember that map on Mason Green’s desk in the Rattigan Club? The one that showed the paths taken by each of the three brothers when they smuggled the caskets out of Rome?’
    â€˜Yep,’ Sam said. ‘The diamond casket went to Glastonbury, the emerald one to India and the ruby one was somewhere on the coast of France.’
    â€˜Thank you, geography boy,’ Ruby said. ‘So we’re actually going to look for the ruby casket?’
    â€˜Exactly,’ Gerald said. ‘I think the woman who stole the ruby killed Green, and now she’s trying to frame me for it.’
    â€˜So the best way to find her is to find the casket?’ Sam said.
    â€˜What? We fly along the coast of France till we spot this castle?’ Ruby said. ‘Seems a bit random, doesn’t it?’
    â€˜Actually, Mr Fry says he knows where it is,’ Gerald said. ‘It’s Mont-Saint-Michel. Miss