Marco folded the yellow paper before presenting it to me on a tray made of very fine porcelain I could see.
“Here.” He looked at it like it was a cooked delicacy to be savoured immensely.
There was total absence of everything called life in that moment of rush, rush of adrenaline to the brain, to the nape of my neck. Everything was on fire like I was right in front of my love and not able to meet him.
“Do you know the cost?” He lowered his eyes bringing it close to me.
“Cost? What cost?” I screwed my eyes.
“The tray you are eyeing? Of course, you are not looking at the paper. It holds significance yet it’s not glitterati.”
“I saw your eyes. You cannot feign them.” He admitted.
“It is?” I searched his eyes for more.
“It’s four million dollars. It’s Chinese. It was made during the Ming dynasty and housed the royal palace for long. Then, during Crusade IV it was stolen from the Shaolin temple and kept in the possession of a Khalif Abdul Rashid bin Kasem, a little known but active participant of the Crusade IV. He was killed and his camp was ravaged by some savages. They looted this priceless possession and delivered it back to the Chinese. They had laid this trap for this particular piece which stands right in front of you. It was with the ottoman emperors for some two hundred years in between this period. It was taken back to the Shaolin temple. It was stolen again and delivered it to me via a lot of people over a period of two hundred years.”
“Really? Amazing, it’s obvious it is with you.” I knew he had done nothing with the money. Having such a possession did not seem startling, in fact what seemed startling was the huge hangar which had five times more space than it had originally seemed from the outside.
I opened the letter, but then few words were blur….blur with my sweat, my fear, my loss.