PRESENT DAY
Dr. Jay
Nigerians, Dr. Jay surmises, are not a punctual people. This doesn't have to be a negative thing. It is highly indicative of their collective mindset, a complete lack of investiture in self and selves. They don't believe that their solution is their cooperation. Thus, their cooperation, then becomes less of an active platform, and more of a passing fancy. He suspects he can say the same thing for all Africans!
The boy who shines his shoes tells him that God Himself has placed curses upon most Africans, at home and in the diaspora, for neglecting to keep the commandments. Of course, this makes Africans hebrew Israelites, a position the prevailing narrative still grapples with. And here, in the governor's office, waiting for the different factions to arrive, Dr. Jay wonders, if, there is something else at play beneath the surface, some secret embargo, that will not allow Canaan to find any solution, in Canaan. Because, here he is.
The imported solution.
Governor Hiram Duke bursts through the double doors, "Dr. Hall!" His voice booms, "Apologies for the delay, I was speaking with president Jonathan, on a conference call, and, a very, very good morning, to you!"
Jay stands up, respectfully, "Good morning, excellency. I received a message, stating my presence is needed in a meeting with various city stakeholders, at eight a.m."
"Yesss!" The governor orders his secretary, a very black, heavyset woman, to prepare some refreshments for his guest. She approaches him as he sits back down in his chair, and politely asks,
"Sir; please can I bring you coffee, tea or if you prefer, some fresh juice?"
"No, thank you, I'm fine."
She nods her head, leaving the office silently, as her boss quickly pours himself a shot of bourbon from a flask on his desk,
"I must get the truth from you, Dr. Hall," he drops a black folder on his massive desk, moving round his long conference table to stand by a fully stocked coffee trolley opposite Jay's comfortable arm chair, "-your director is not responding to my query. Are you, ehh," he lowers his great bulk into the armchair beside the coffee trolley, his eyes sparing the clock above Jay, high up the wall, a quick glance, "-are you related, to our legendary hero, then?"
The governor looks him right in the eye, squarely. Jay sees tenacity and intelligence in the man's charcoal black pupils. By legendary hero, he means the Navy Commander who built the castle, he has secretly been sent, to raid. To retrieve a virus called the African Codex.
"What gave me away?"
Is it his name? But why him? Why not Rodney Sheldon, or Salem Hartford, Tom Price? Does his personal connection add to the subterfuge, is he being set up then, to take the blame for an international crime against humanity? But what does his boss want to do with the African Codex?
"Dr. Hall, in your transfer letter from the home office, you are named Dr. Justice Benedict Hall, and its part of the reason I accepted your posting!" He revealed, even grinning from ear to ear, "I'm quite excited!" The wide grin slowly fades away, "-besides, at this point, our city needs all the help it can get!"
A wicked, horrible suspicion is forming in Jay's mind. It is the basic principle of cause and effect. Cause problems, and people will be eager for, solutions, and solutions, are money makers. Pandemics, mean access to unproven vaccines. War, is opportunity to gain resource control, and increase sale of weapons. But Murders? A string of violent, gruesome murders, requires expert criminal investigation in law enforcement. Canaan city opened it's gates, eagerly for British aid; that is... him, the virus thief. How long, has foreign aid, been stealing things from Canaan? Did this method execute before? Was the Navy Commander really a black sheep?
No. There has to be another explanation. This, is not why he joined MI6 at seventeen.
"Your excellency; I was not aware of these details, at the instance of my posting; I'm... not quite familiar with this part of my history. I want to believe that this... connection prooves irrelevant, at least, for the purpose of catching this killer."
The governor replies, "-that remains to be seen Dr. Jay," he continues gravely, "Now, about this meeting! I will like you to remain seated here... For now, your participation is observatory, you see? The connection between you and the castle, must be revealed at the right time!' Then, the governor gives him a copy of the New York Times, his grin, is full of mischief, "-in this game, I have a trump card, but, if that is eh, trumped,.. then I have you, a card that will still end it all, and in my favour. I know, I know, you have questions, but for this morning, yes? Just watch."
"Can you tell me, what the meeting is about?"
The governor coughs, "Well, you are going to see royalty, descendants of the original founding families of Canaan, three of which, are tasked with a responsibility to always, in perpetuity, ehh, produce the traditional ruler or, leadership, for the tripod seat. You're going to see some members of civil society, the association of pastors will be represented, and one or two business tycoons. Everyone coming will complain about these murders, alongside one or two other issues! The two things we want to achieve, in this meeting, are clarity, and, the way forward."
Jay knows he is going to need a little help, understanding the participants. The boy is on his mind, because of what he told him, as he shined his shoes earlier...
Dr. Jay, one day, I'm going to find the three Captains pile of gold, some say, is hidden in the old cave of the shadows of mist, and others say, are stashed in the Cardinal's brigantine, the Europa, where Club Mario's is, today. I'm going to be the king of the suburbs, then, but now, I'm still the king of the streets!
The three Captains?
Yes, boss! McFoy, McVane and Mosey! Legend says, they were Lord Hall's faithful Officers!
I see. So! Tell me, boy, what is the name of the king of the streets yeah?
I'm Victorious Maye!
No, you're not, mate.
I am, too!
Well then, king Victorious Maye, what does Maye mean?
It means the reverse!
Through the boy's eyes, he can view history, seeing that the Navy Commander was a man who had three loyal captains, who hid gold, in the cave of the Shadows of Mist, or, in today's club Mario's, a big space that is part of the Cardinal's brigantine, in the year 1891. Jay dials the boy's number, "Hey, boy? Where are you? Can you come to the governor's office in five minutes? I'll pay you double your daily pay."
The boy gets to the big grand gates in record time. Jay gets the go ahead from Hiram Duke. He then speaks to the security officers, and they let him enter, assigning him an escort, who brings him to his excellency's secretary. The boy can't hide his excitement at being inside a governor's office. The goofy smile on his face lasts until almost every participant has arrived...
Edima McFoy comes in before the others, looking a lot like a wild desert rose, with her thick, long hair let loose and windswept, her ankle length, straight cut, wine red chiffon caftan, embroidered on its edges in arabic gold, appearing from a distance like artful sprays of sand. Leaning close to Jay from the comfort of his arm chair, the boy's pinpoint analysis proves invaluable.
One of those faithful officers to the Navy Commander, was called, McFoy. Most natives knew her paternal ancestry, but not many know about her mother. Amma McFoy. Amma McFoy had a twin brother, who got married to an Edo woman from Benin kingdom. The twin brother had seven children, he later became a preacher, but is remembered in Canaan history, as the July midnight butcher, a sick man who sloughterred his entire family, in one night.
It continues to be the biggest scandal of the eighties, in Canaan city, his daddy says so. The people believe Miss Edima has spiritual gifts, but many of them, like his daddy, remember that her maternal grandfather walked the dark side. His daddy blames every single problem in Canaan, on Miss Edima's maternal grandfather.
"Who was her maternal grandfather?"
"Solomon of Etoi..." The most dangerous juju priest to have ever lived. His daddy says so.
Nicholas Trombone arrives shortly after Edima. He is of royal blood, descending from a long line of Canaan Tripod kings. A rather attractive grizzly bear barreling into the room, standing six feet five inches tall, dressed in a powder blue shirt with gold cufflinks and smokey gray slacks. The boy, in a quiet, but audible voice, explains this business tycoon's pivotal position in the society. Isn't it just his luck, that he won't ever ascend the throne? The word on the streets is, his big brother, the king, is dead...! But this time, the tripod seat points at the houses of Eyam Attah and Hogan Bassey.
"Who here, is from the house of Eyam Attah?"
The boy's voice lowers even further, and there's a curious sadness in his tone, "It's a disgraced house, Sir. The last known survivor fled, after being accused of witchcraft, and is presumed dead."
The last known survivor. Jay notes the boy's choice of words, every time. Victorious Maye is a very intelligent boy. There are always things he seems to say, without him actually saying them. As for the house of Hogan Bassey; it eventually produces a male child in its fourth generation of intermarrying with, the houses of Okpo and Ephraim.
Byron Bassey comes in next, laughing together with the representative of Canaan city pastors association, Pastor Uzzy. The two men are like slippery slopes. They both have the oily sangfroid of dirty politics in their poker faced, polished good looks. If Uzzy seems amiable, Byron comes across as real smooth. Their bodies move with the ease of men wired and then re-wired in layers of dogged ambition. But while Uzzy is in his early fifties, sporting a balding head and protruding potbelly, Byron is in his early thirties, fair skinned, tall as a pike, ramrod straight with a few punches packed in his muscles, a narrow, nubian face and wide egyptian eyes. Lots of blokes in london will call him model material. Jay can see the appeal. However, it takes a trained secret agent like himself, to know, that this book... is very different from it's cover.
Pastor Uzzy. Byron Bassey.
Jay perceives that these are the only two alley cats in the room. He notices that when they enter, the boy begins to feel visibly uncomfortable, hiding his face under the wide flap of his beanie,
"That's Oga Big Time, Chief Byron Hogan Bassey. I think he is like, the leader of the city's Historical Society," he whispers.
The Historical society is a sort of break away division of civil society groups, which holds itself in high esteem as the city's self appointed tribe custodians. The boy says,
"They want to preserve our traditions, but, I think they are changing it. They're not supposed to be Custodians of the Ways, that's the job of a Shield Maiden; the Fifteenth Shield Maiden, but people are starting to forget!"
Jay nods, learning. He is beginning to like this boy very much, this king of the streets, whose name means, the reverse. Victorious Maye! The reverse, of what? Jay has a theory, "Remind me, to visit with your daddy, sometime, mate! Its important."
The meeting begins with a big bang. It is Trombone's fist on the solid mahogany wood of the conference table. The governor is startled, for he barely asked Edima McFoy to lead them in opening prayer. Pastor Uzzy intervenes with a calming smile, saying, "let me do it," before going on to ask The Lord to grant every request made today through manifestations of financial breakthroughs, specifically, he asks The Lord for a Dollar Rain, and a few like minds, actually chorus ahmen.
Pastor Uzzy delves right in, stating his concern over the recent happenings in the city; what locals report as the paranormal presence of strange beings, unexplained disappearances, unsolved murders, "Your excellency, we wish to inform you that, we believe the city is being haunted. We must give God the pre eminence, in this matter. Therefore, we the churches, are prescribing a periodical spiritual cleansing of the land."
Pastor Uzzy stresses the need for regular financial support, an annual budget to the tune of ten million naira or more, for the land cleansing project. The governor confirms that Pastor Uzzy is done, before asking if anyone wants to give a different opinion? Miss McFoy's differential sort of builds upon Pastor Uzzy's haunted house theory.
She introduces herself as a stakeholder with multiple business interests in the city, also desirous of an enabling environment,
"I mean no offence to the church, but I hope we can consider other probable causes. Rather than a defiled land, I think this city is still bound by spiritual covenants of the past; I think that these different altars are speaking against all people of Canaan," she rises gracefully from her seat, to take a walk round the long table, often pausing behind the chair of each participant, her light, sugary sweet voice holding them spellbound,
"I have read extensively, on Canaan history, which is why I think, this is about what a privileged few did, to try to seize power, and how their acts of selfishness affect us today. Remember the great injustices done, to the house of Eyam Attah, in 1891? Did the king's council, ever say sorry, for not protecting their Tribe Custodian? Maybe we need to do this, and start to extricate ourselves from, any unholy pacts entered into, on our behalf, at a time when we put our trust in leaders... who... sold us out," she is back in her chair, seated, her face set in uncompromising lines, her eyes focused on the governor,
"This doesn't need money; it requires cooperation, places like the king's palace ought to be searched, for idolatrous relics, with a very fine tooth comb. It begs for support, if the church can reorient the people on how to live holy, righteous lives, let everyone be on the same page; ancient idols, or secret monuments, symbols of agreements with deities... they must be torn down, destroyed, we want God backing us, don't we? So when the backlash hits, and when the enemy comes like a flood, we shall lift up His standard! Which is why, it requires revelation, for us to know all that we don't know, about whatever the specifics, the custodians, should agree to come to God's light, and do away with their destructive secrets! The Church wants to cleanse the land! Admirable! But he who comes to equity, must come, with clean hands so, let's give to Ceaser what is Ceaser's, and to God, what is God's..."
Jay sees that her long speech has ruffled a few feathers... but hit a key chord with the governor. "Your excellency," she concludes, "-we cannot use two things... to climb a tree. If we put God first, then we will bring down altars of baal in Canaan city. I most humbly apologize, if there is any error, or offense, in my statement..."
Trombone is quick to protest, "Oh, but there is, isn't there? Without due respect for your betters! We will never make the seat of the Tripod King, or our historical, traditional societies, subject to such a process! As if, the citizens no longer value their roots; the sacred and enduring ways, which are an evidence of our origins. This foolhardy idea of yours, pitts us against the very culture that defines us, that makes us, who we are, madam!"
Miss McFoy winces, but her voice is strong, "Well now. I thought we are to come out of the ways, and follow, The Way," she calmly retorts, "I suppose there are those who value shackles over salvation and deliverance!"
The representative of civil societies inquires anxiously, "Are we talking about white supremacy tools in religion, designed to further enslave us to anti black philosophies, or are we talking about, uh, a specific incident, only Faith and doctrine, can address?"
Jay, being part and parcel of the hoodwinking strategies of his government, believes very strongly that they are talking about other, probable causes.
The governor, desperate to avert altercations, claps his hands, "Please! Let's all be objective, and timely! Ehh, Trombone, well noted. Any other contribution?"
Pastor Uzzy's face is a storm cloud, "And which church," his voice trembles with rage, "-is Madam representing? Or, on what authority, is she... prescribing mass spiritual deliverance assignments for the people?"
She rolls her eyes, "I have no degrees in theology, nor do I own a church registered for business. But, in 2000, I did warn this administration, not to go to court over those seventy oil wells?" she eyes the governor, "-that warning was fully ignored," she spreads her hands, "-and here we are. No oil wells!" Still in reply to Pastor Uzzy, her tone becomes placatory, "Please, in 1999, I tried to warn the city about flood? You... were at that town hall meeting, Pastor Uzzy, and we all saw the devastation the flood caused. The prophecies I give are true, because God gives them, to me. And, I've got a warning for this year! The Most High says..." She pauses.
They all wait to hear it. The tension in this room can be sliced right through with a sharp blade.
"There is something we need to do; something we should do; something, that can still be done, so that all this..." her soft hands claw at the air, "-strangeness can go away. Let's fix this, now."
The lady representing civil societies sighs heavily, "Miss McFoy, you are being far too vague! Fix what, now?"
Jay tries not to wince, as she continues to be more vague,
"Something slowly coming apart. Please, understand: these hidden ancient relics, the covenants, the warring altars," she shakes her head, "-all these articles of negative energies, are like pathways, portals, breaches through a shield, or like... lots of tiny cracks in a glass window..."
Pastor Uzzy laughs dryly,
"Ha-ha!!! What a sci-fi novel you've written, for yourself! But, when you poke at the so called, injustices of the past, does it include the strange circumstance of your parents demise, and your consequent abandonment, on Solomon's Bridge? Maybe we should all begin the deliverance session with you, because of your obvious connections to the marine underworld?"
"I...I...I have no connections, in that regard, Sir!"
"Indeed?"
"Look, you can bomb the whole Bridge down, it's even part of the altars that need to be faced, in this city. But, let's tell ourselves the truth! Even if nobody wants to say it, a great injustice was done---"
Trombone coughs, a bored expression on his face, his deep voice cutting her short,
"I think, you should be silent, Miss McFoy! First, you want us to do away with cultural heritage! Now, you want us to bomb Solomon's Bridge! It's all doom for you, isn't it? But let's just cut to the chase! I think I speak for everyone here, your excellency, when I say that rising crime, is bad for business. Bad for foreign direct investment. Bad for tourism and bad for deep sea mineral exploration. Too many gory deaths. I for one, want to know why, the Ekpe traditional society is not present at this table. Maybe, they can tell us, if there is any crazy spiritual stuff that is behind all the killings!"
Byron spoke, for the first time, "It's funny, you bring this up, Trombone," he says, his knuckles idly drumming on the table, "-being a sort of permanent fixture... in the corridors of power. I'd like to know if it's true then, what the rumours assert. Is the Tripod King, your elder brother, dead?"
Trombone hisses, "Byron," he addresses him, directly, "-the public have nothing to fear, from the house of Trombone! That old custom of killing seven young men... to place seven heads in the coffin of the king, will not apply here, it's an abolished custom, and I'll thank you to remember, that it's his royal highness, my elder brother Meticulous, who in fact, abolished it!"
The lady from civil society is impatient, "I think we can all agree that, it's more than just seven men, who've been so horrifically killed, in the last three months. We're talking about close to fifty deaths, and ten others who've been declared, missing," she is cut short by an announcement, it is the governor's secretary, ushering in the leader of the Ekpe traditional society, the honourable, Double Chief Kuffre Cobham Henshaw.
Mrs Etuk continues to speak, as soon as the double chief is settled amongst them in his seat, "Your excellency; as the think tank committee on this state emergency, we cannot afford to overlook the rising unemployment rate in this city. Our youth are turning to ritual killings! They cannot afford basic utilities. Without access to social welfare, this next generation is not only idle, but highly frustrated and," she holds up a finger for emphasis, "-very high on lots of cheap narcotic drugs coming in, from across our porous borders! The tourism initiative is very laudable, but ineffective, and I dare to add, wasteful. Your... excellency," she takes a deep breath, "-specifically, the civil society groups in this city, demand, pronto, for the immediate meltdown and conversion of the solid gold doors, that are in the castle of Justice Hall!"
The meeting erupts with lots of disgruntled murmuring, a shocked gasp, and a cry of outrage. The governor uses a handkerchief to dab at his sweaty forehead, Miss McFoy hugs herself, as if the room is suddenly too cold, while the Double chief looks almost violated as he shouts, "Absolutely not!" But Jay sees how perfectly calm Byron is.
"And, why not?" Mrs Etuk challenges them, her wild eyes flashing fire, "-that gold, that's just standing there as seven doors, through the sad decades, can provide more electricity! Build industries! Support small and medium Business! Those seven gold doors can provide us better agricultural packages for the loca---"
"But, Mrs Etuk!"
"Y-yes, your excellency?"
"Those gold doors are part of the major tourist attraction, in this city!"
"But, your exce---"
"Mrs Etuk!"
"Ehh, yes, Double chief?"
"How dare you prey upon our heritage! Our legacy! Our history! The symbol of goodwill which was gifted to us, by Lord Admiral Justice Benedict Hall, in 1891? HAVE YOU NO RESPECT, FOR THE WISHES OF THE DEAD, FOR WHAT IS, SACROSANCT-!"
Mrs Etuk adjusts her eye glasses to sit higher up the bridge of her nose, nodding her head, "Ehh, yes, well, do you think," her voice lowers, quite unremorseful, "-do you think the Navy Commander, will wish us to kill ourselves in poverty, worshipping the gold doors till... there's none left to worship them?"
Trombone's bass voice rolls with chuckles over their heads. Byron raises his hand to silence them,
"Whatever happens in the castle, Justice Hall, is always decided by a Hall. I will like to use this opportunity, to remind your excellency, and, this think tank committee, that Chief Akanimo Hall, is the only surviving, albeit, adopted, descendant of Lord Hall. At his demise, control of the west wing reverts to us, the historical society."
Double chief sighs, "Akanimo is the last centenarian in this city! So sad, all his children and grandchildren, dead in less than a week!"
Trombone sobers up, his hand, grabbing a mini bottle of Baileys from a tray the governor's secretary carries, as she goes from chair to chair, "It was the year 1997; I can't ever forget! Worst wave of a Gangeh outbreak to hit the southern states!"
Double Chief raises his eyes to Byron in direct challenge, "I will like to see the man," he says, "-who can bring those doors down!"
Byron wears a tight smile on his face, "Chief Henshaw! One does not become a master diviner in a day. A forest is not made in a season. The swoop of an eagle has seen many seasons and floods... you can only stop a bird from making a nest on your head but u can't stop it from flying over your head. Is it not in the house of a coward that people gather and point to the tomb of yesterday's warrior...?"
Double Chief retorts, "Chief Byron! The gods only hear one wish at a time, and nothing more."
There is a moment of silence, as each participant soaks up the verbal exchange of the warring chiefs.
Mrs Etuk doesn't want any drink. "So, Chief Byron Hogan Bassey, you will be in charge of the gold doors, is this what you are implying?"
Byron took a cold coke, "The leadership of the historical society, will be in charge of Justice Hall."
But the governor said no.
All eyes turned to Hiram, as he quickly scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper. He reminds the meeting,
"Chief Akanimo's youngest son, married a very wealthy northerner's daughter. A sheikh's daughter, I think, if memory serves me right---"
"They were both killed in a plane crash, your excellency. Aishatu Fahintola Bello and her husband, Alfred George." Byron's smile is almost gleeful. He takes a quick swig at his coke as if, to cover it up.
The governor informs him, "Oh, but... they had a son."
The gulp of coke goes down the wrong pipe, too fast, and Byron chokes, then coughs, and sputters, while Mrs Etuk does her maternal best to thump him brutally on his back, "There, there! Take it easy, now," she cooes.
"Great news!" Trombone smiles, "That name, Bello, it sounds so familiar!"
Dr Jay feels the boy's gaze drilling a hole into his face. His ice blue eyes catch him, "What?" But the boy shakes his head, turning away.
He monitors this man-child from the corner of his right eye, knowing the exact time he sneaks a peek again, this time, when he catches him, he sees something akin to shock in the young man's brown pupils. Dr Jay's mind registers a silent shit, as he realizes, Victorious Maye is most likely making the connection, "What?" He asks again, voice low, and again, the boy says, "-nothing!"
Dr Jay thinks about his late father, and grandfather. But they looked nothing alike. He thinks of his sweet, simple mother, a stabbing flash of pain bruising his heart. He didn't look like her either. So the family genes isn't that strong. It must be his name.
The double doors to the governor's office burst open, with the governor's secretary bitterly complaining about the participant not having been announced. Dr. Jay sees a strikingly handsome man in a doctor's lab coat, with his stethoscope still hanging loosely from his neck.
Nicholas Trombone gasps, "Nuru? What are you doing here?"
The boy whispers in Dr. Jay's ear, "This guy is a doctor, his crib is the chalet annexed to Diamond apartments."
The governor waves him in, telling his secretary that it is alright, "Dr. Nurudeen! Just in time to be introduced!"
"Good morning, your, uhh," the doctor clears his throat, "-excellency! I'm sorry for being horridly late, but, ah, it was meant to be a simple one hour fibroid surgery... then we find the patient has appendicitis, and peritonitis, so instead of an hour, uhh, it was four hours, a combined, super surgery. Yeah. Hope it's not an emergency in here?"
The governor laughs, "No, we are all healthy! How is your patient?"
"She'll be up and about in a few days, your excellency."
Hiram Duke introduces him to the meeting, "You all know Dr Nurudeen Bello, but now, it's time for you to meet Dr. Nurudeen Bello Benedict Hall! Aishatu and Alfred's son!"
While the room is enveloped in shock, Trombone laughs again, "Nuru? You? Well! It's all settled, then! Mrs Etuk, go ahead to melt those doors!"
Nurudeen blinks, as he hears a reprisal of Mrs Etuk's bold request from Edima McFoy.
Jay sighs. Seven solid gold doors. Jay imagines the work stressed doctor thinking, but what's the big deal? Gold can do lots of things, but can it catch this killer? A problem, with multi billionaires like Nurudeen, is his occasional bout of blind generosity.
The doctor blinks again,
"Oh! Sure!"
But the governor says, no.
Double chief Kuffre is visibly distraught, "He's just a Hausa Fulani immigrant! What can he understand, about the sacredness of tradition?"
Edima McFoy murmurs, "Is it about the gold, or, what the gold doors are hiding?"
Byron has recovered himself, "What's hard to understand, about gold? Let the man do as he sees fit."
Mrs Etuk is confused, "Is Dr. Nurudeen in charge of the castle, or not?"
"Ehh, not," the governor says, and the room is quiet once again, with Nurudeen trying to snag a chair but the wily governor restraining him with his hand,
"Our last participant to be introduced, was actually the first to arrive, this morning. He doesn't need to wait for Chief Akanimo to join his peers at the pearly gates, as he stands, he is the living, breathing, legitimate heir to the entire castle. Dr Jay? Please, you may join us, now."
When he stands up, keeping the New York Times aside, he hears the women gasp, and he sees the amazement on all their faces. He eyes Hiram Duke, knowing exactly what the governor wants him to do, but hating being put on full display, in this way.
My God! His spitting image!
It's him in the painting, at the castle, at Justice Hall...
But, isn't this the new director of the SSS?
I knew his face was familiar.
Double Chief is perhaps the most affected, his beady eyes bulge, "It's the Lord Admiral! Come back from the dead to haunt us!" He whispers, into his tall glass of sherry.
Dr. Jay scowls. Well. Isn't all this a right mess! The answer is simple. Nobody is touching those gold doors. Nobody... But he is going to open them, and gain access to that secret room, with the right set of keys. As soon as he can get it.