Free Relic by Steve Whibley Page A

he’s here to fight that monk again?” a young voice asked.
    â€œYou think he’ll give me his autograph?”
    My cheeks burned. The security guard placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me from the line. “Okay, kid,” he said. “Let’s go.”
    â€œWhat about my friends?” I asked, pointing back.
    Lisa and Colin stepped out of the line, intending to follow us, but the guard raised his free hand. “Uh-uh. You two can stay here. Or wait in line and go visit the museum, or do anything you want. Overton said he wanted to speak to Mr. Curse, so you’ll see him when the meeting is over.”
    â€œNow just wait a—” Colin started to say, but the guard cut him short.
    â€œDon’t worry, kid,” the officer said with an evil smirk. “Your little sister will be out before you know it.”

Chapter 13
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    The walls of Mr. Overton’s office were hung with certificates, diplomas, the odd painting of some abstract scene, and several old, faded portraits of angry men and women. Previous curators, I imagined. There were several artifacts around the room; some of the smaller ones were on shelves or ledges. An odd collection of thick chains and heavy locks was piled up in one of the corners. If it hadn’t looked like they had been placed there with some care, I might have thought Mr. Overton used chains and locks as a regular part of his meetings. I was about to stand up from the leather chair I was in to investigate the oddity a bit more when the office door opened and in walked Mr. Overton.
    â€œDean!” A smile spread across his face, and he crossed the five or six meters between the door and my chair before I had a chance to stand. “My boy, it’s good to see you.”
    â€œIt is, sir?”
    He reached out and grabbed my hand before I could shove it in my pocket and gave it several enthusiastic pumps. Great , I thought, more physical contact . Yet another person I have to worry about dying.
    â€œOf course it is, Dean.”
    â€œThen…you’re not upset at me for what’s going on outside? You don’t blame me?”
    Mr. Overton gave the top of my head a rub, then moved to his desk and sat on the corner. “Oh, you bet I do,” he said. “You get full credit for that, young man. Full credit indeed.”
    â€œOh.” I felt like reminding him that the protestors had been out there long before my little incident, but I decided it would probably only make matters worse. So instead I said, “That’s why I’m here, sir. I wanted to apologize for my actions. It was all a big misunderstanding. Just a silly accident. But clearly, it’s made some challenges for you, and I guess for that monk too.”
    â€œChallenges?” Mr. Overton waved his hand. “You mean the protestors? Nonsense.”
    I blinked. “Nonsense?”
    â€œNonsense,” he repeated, looking very pleased. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, young man.”
    â€œYou do?”
    â€œWe’ve had that artifact on display for almost two weeks, and guess how much it increased attendance?”
    â€œI…I don’t have a clue, sir. Lots?”
    â€œNone.” He shook his head. “Sure, it was in the papers because of the protestors, but it never made the top story, never front page. Even the local newspaper buried it on page six. Page six!” he repeated dejectedly. “That’s the Community Arts section. The write-up about the Buddha head was underneath an article about how the community theatre was doing The Wizard of Oz for the hundredth time. Even our coprolite exhibit drew more attention than the Buddha head, and that head cost us almost a quarter of our annual budget.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” I managed to say.
    â€œI’ll admit it, Dean. Yesterday I thought your little scuffle was going to make even fewer people come here. But did you see the line