Gabriel's Trumpet

Chapter 2

A short distance from Washington, in the quiet suburb of Silver Spring, north of the Potomac River, Dan Messenger arrived home. It was late and the cold streets were still, as he fumbled with his keys in the front door and went inside. He dragged the large suitcase to the bottom of the stairs and left it there. He could sort his vacation laundry tomorrow. He climbed the stairway to the second level bedroom where he dropped the briefcase full of papers for the morning on the bed and decided to head for a quick shower.

Dan flicked on the hot tap. Soon the ensuite bathroom filled with a warm blanket of steam. The hot water cascaded over his shoulders, soothing the stiffness in his bones from the flight and the cold Washington frost outside. He closed his eyes and let the warmth flow through him. Outside, toward the bedroom he heard a faint thump, most probably the sound of the late autumn wind rocking the old boughs of the elm tree in the front yard against the outside of the house. He finished washing and turned the tap off. Everything was quiet once more. Peculiarly quiet. Even the rocking of the old elm had ceased as quickly as it had begun. He shuddered. On late nights like these he hated living alone. He brushed the thought aside and finished towelling himself off. Back in the bedroom he perched on the side of the bed and pulled over the briefcase to go through his notes for tomorrow. He turned the little dials of the combination; 8-2-3 then 1-1-3. He went to flick back the twin latches and open the lid, but they remained stuck fast. That's odd, he thought. He tried again, checking to make sure that he'd lined the dials of the combination up correctly. The case stubbornly refused to budge. Out of frustration he decided to simply switch them all to zeros and tugged hard at the lid of the case to see if he could get it to budge. The lid sprang open with a click.

"What the...?"

Instead of the series of folders containing his notes for tomorrow, the case was almost empty. For an instant he thought someone must have stolen his notes, but then inside the case was a long black box. Dan recalled the incident at the airport with the heavyset balding man. The man had put his case down next to his own when he had helped him up. In his rush he must have picked up the wrong briefcase.

"Damn it!"

Now what was he going to do? He would just have to get by in tomorrow's meeting without his notes, until he could trace them.

Dan's eyes were drawn back to the oblong shaped box. It looked like an oversized glasses case, or maybe a box for a small musical instrument. Perhaps he should open it? After all, with nothing else to trace the man from Chicago airport it might at least contain a name or a phone number. Besides, chances were somewhere on the other side of the country someone else was already going through his own briefcase. Although, he thought, if they had, surely they would have been in contact with him already? It did after all have several things with his number on them. No harm in looking, he supposed. He placed his fingers either end of the box and gently opened it from the edges. Inside was a long black velvet bag tied at one end with a gold cord. Within this was something quite heavy. He undid the cord and slid the item out of its velvet cover and into his hands.

He drew an involuntary breath.

"Wow." He whispered to himself. Lying across his palms was a long flute shaped crystal about nine inches long, which splayed out at the end into a kind of trumpet shape. The workmanship was breathtaking. As he turned it in his hands light danced hypnotically along its length. Dan had no idea how long he had been sitting on the edge of the bed mesmerised by it when the wind outside caught his attention again. He gently slid it back into its velvet cover. He placed the cloth back into the black box and in turn re-closed the briefcase. He glanced at the clock beside the bed. It was nearly one thirty. For now it could wait. Maybe at the office he could get Carol to run a check on it. Someone may already have placed a call with the airline for the lost bag, and hopefully he could get his own briefcase back. He pulled back the covers and turned out the light, but sleep was uneasy and his dreams were filled with the troubled images of an anxious mind.