"Is Greenacres still standing?" Zachary asks. "That whole estate?"
"Harold Lloyd lived a long life, but after his death the estate was subdivided. I don't recall the details, but the primary mansion remains and some of the gardens. Movies and television shows are occasionally filmed there, but the last I heard the home was not accessible for tourists. You can argue though that Greenacres is as important to Los Angeles history and architecture as the downtown Bradbury Building, the arts and crafts Gamble House in Pasadena, the Lovell Health House in Los Feliz, and Frank Lloyd Wright's four Pre-Colombian homes."
"Connect the dots," Zachary repeats.
"I am trying, but I keep thinking of facts to add," Aleksey complains. "A New York couple, real estate tycoons who dabbled in mysticism, reportedly gifted Harold Lloyd and his wife, an accomplished actress named Mildred Davis, a so-called magic wand."
"Magic?" Gustavo asks.
"Who were the couple from New York?" Zachary asks.
"Their identity remains secret and part of the mystery of the wand," Aleksey answers. "Clearly, they had to be from one of the East Coast's most wealthy families and frequent, perhaps fanatic, visitors to the lavish festivals and parties at Greenacres. The jewels and precious metals, even then, were deemed priceless. You both can guess the striking feature. The violet eyes. Instead of rubies, the cobra was created with amethyst eyes. Amethyst with a deliberately deep purple hue."
"Why violet eyes?" Gustavo asks.
"Clairvoyance. The gift was not just a compilation of treasure. It was intended as a present to safeguard the Lloyds, their children, their grand estate, and their legacy. Amethyst is considered by some to be an especially spiritual stone. The legend is that Harold Lloyd and Mildred Davis believed this too."
"Did they sell the wand?" Zachary asks.
"No, they never did," Aleksey answers. "According to the tale, the wand bestowed the gift of foresight. Clairvoyance. But the truth it revealed, in a spiritual garden ceremony adjacent to the waterfall, was laden with tragedy. Earthquakes shattering parts of the home, fires destroying their film vault, the stock market crash, and the end of the fairy tale as the estate got chopped into pieces. Distraught by knowing too much, and fearing it would interfere with their ability to enjoy their present lives, the Hollywood legends donated the wand to the citizens of the United States, essentially, by contributing it to The Smithsonian Institute."
"Did those tragedies come to pass?" Gustavo asks.
"Yes, whether a year or decades later, all of the tragedies eventually came to pass."
"If Gustavo's wand is from The Smithsonian," Zachary says, "shouldn't there be a photographic record of it? News reports of it missing? Has anything ever been stolen from The Smithsonian?"
"Aha," Aleksey cheers, "the limbo is part of the legend. In transit to The District of Columbia, the wand and the small army of security guards entrusted with it, vanished from the train near the Utah and Colorado border. Some reports swear the disappearances occurred shortly after the train left Salt Lake City, while others believe the guards absconded with the treasure just before arriving at the Denver station."
"Where did the cobra turn up after that?" Zachary asks.
"It hasn't," Aleksey answers. "Historians and treasure hunters have searched the Rocky Mountains for any sign of it or the missing guards, all to no avail. That is why the common knowledge, or common belief, is that the cobra really does not exist."
"But here it is," Gustavo says. "Right with us. Missing and tumbling around with who knows what type of characters for almost one hundred years. So is there a Wanda in the story? A donor, a child, a relative, or anyone else named Wanda?"
"Not that I know of."
"Aleksey, based on everything, how certain are you that Gustavo's wand is the long lost and fabled Clairvoyant Serpent?" Zachary asks.
"A sliver short of complete certainty. I have only a mere sliver of doubt."
27
Disturbance
Curled up on the love seat under a cotton blanket, a few minutes after 3 o'clock in the morning, Gustavo listens to the whirring fan above him in the parlor. It is ricketier than it should be, bobbing as it spins, ready to drop from the ceiling and slice through anyone in its path. Nonetheless, it blocks out noises inside and outside of the hotel room, from the traffic to the sounds of Zachary and Aleksey breathing in the beds adjacent to him.
Zachary is in the bed closest to Gustavo, asleep in the fetal position. His sheet covers his body, up to his chin, and he faces toward Gustavo with closed eyes. Gustavo ponders the paradox of such a powerful man dozing in such a shielded manner. He contemplates that Zachary is likely a person who avoids, and perhaps detests, vulnerability. In light of what he has learned, this thought makes sense. Unfortunately, Gustavo considers, a fear of vulnerability can weaken a person.
Relaxing and steadying his mind, in harmony with the revolving fan, Gustavo attempts to identify Zachary's aura. His dominant color, a deep red, bristles with spikes of black and grey. Zachary's energy, at least in this moment while he sleeps, reminds Gustavo of lava. It is mighty, and it feels dangerous, yet it does not spew in a volcanic burst.
Gustavo senses a change in Zachary's energy. An alertness. Gustavo notices that Zachary's eyes are open and looking right at him. The men stare at each other in the dark, neither looking away or changing their facial expressions.
A muffled knock on the door shatters their trances.
Aleksey instantly springs out of his bed with his handgun. While keeping his eyes on the door of the suite, he gesticulates a sweeping motion of his arm toward Zachary and Gustavo, directing them to back out of range. Copying Zachary, Gustavo immediately grabs his phone and wallet and puts on his clothes and shoes. Zachary holds his index finger in front of his lips toward Gustavo with the universal gesture for complete silence.
With stealthy movements, Aleksey looks through the peephole. It is blocked. Aleksey races back into the room and signals Zachary toward the balcony.
Louder this time, the knock persists.
Zachary yanks Gustavo's duffel bag out from under his bed, hands it to Gustavo, and ushers him toward the balcony.
"Do not disturb," Aleksey says, speaking toward the door. "Can't you see our sign hanging on the doorknob?"
"I am sorry, sir, for this inconvenience," a man's voice responds from behind the door. "We have an urgent delivery for your occupant."
Zachary steps over the balcony railing, hangs from the lowest bar, sets his footing on the top of the railing for the floor below, and agilely climbs downward. When he reaches the ground, lit by the nearby swimming pool area, four stories below, he motions his arms for Gustavo to drop his duffel bag. But Gustavo hesitates.
"Slide it under the door," Aleksey commands the stranger in the hallway.
"That is impossible, sir," the man answers.
Gustavo drops his bag. Zachary catches it, utilizing a swinging technique that keeps heavy objects, like the duffel bag, from hitting the ground after being caught. Zachary sets the bag down by his feet and beckons for Gustavo to climb down.
Gustavo looks down at the balcony railings, winces, and shakes his head. With forceful arm motions, Zachary orders Gustavo to climb.
Through the open door to the balcony, Gustavo hears Aleksey tell the man that the door is not going to open, no matter the emergency. Gustavo looks again at Zachary's fierce intensity, straddles the balcony railing, and attempts to mimic the method Zachary used. Gustavo conjures the strength to lower his body in the hanging position until his feet reach the top of the railing below. Overcoming his terror, he continues descending, floor by floor, until he lands at Zachary's side.
Following Zachary's lead, Gustavo sprints around the building to the riverwalk and races toward the resort next door. Coming upon a small group of people leaving a casino, they slow their pace to a brisk walk and continue heading south with the duffel bag. They pass a security guard patrolling the riverwalk, a drunk woman puking in a flower garden, and a man and woman groping each other passionately in a gazebo. The water taxi platforms, boat docks, and coast guard stations are closed with locked latches.
They reach a massive land-based resort that is a replica of a paddle wheel boat similar to those which traveled the Mississippi River in the 1800s. On the side of the casino, a hundred feet off of the riverwalk, Zachary and Gustavo huddle in a small storage area walled with concrete masonry blocks.
"Do you think Aleksey was captured?" Gustavo asks.
"No, he is a consummate pro," Zachary answers. "I trust we will hear from him any minute now."
"Who or what do you believe they are after? You, me, or the cobra? All of us?"
"Gustavo, we don't know. So conclude the worst. Assume it's all of us. Everything."
"Yes, we are in this together."
"What perplexes me is what the person, or people, expected to accomplish by knocking on our door in the middle of the night," Zachary says. "Very odd. Bursting in would be one thing. Knocking and losing the element of surprise is another. At this point I am guessing that was not an ambush. But we had to get out of there, regardless, since we really don't know what avalanche we are trying to escape."