Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb Chapter 8-Final Chapter!

Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb

Chapter 8

I can't let that happen, Mr. Avninder, I said. I won't let that happen. I am staying at the home of Fuad Mistry and his family. His nephew Raj is my friend from Canada. They will soon realize I am gone and will look for us. Once the affects of the drugged milk wore off.

Avninder fell silent. The room got brighter as the morning wore on and soon is was unbearably hot in there. I was sweating profusely and was becoming dehydrated. I had tried to open the door more than once but it was locked tightly.

A shadow passed the window and a moment later the door opened. Qasim was standing there.

We have arrived, he said, motioning us to stand and to follow him. Avninder went first and I followed him out into the bright morning air. Beyond the ship I could see we had docked. This must be Gharapuri Island. I could see palm trees swaying in the morning breeze.

We were led off the boat to shore and led into a copse of trees. Zayd was there with some men, all dressed in work shirts and shorts and work boots. They looked like they were ready to do some work. I recognized one of the men as Jag. He avoided making eye contact with me.

A small truck was parked nearby, the back door was open. The same one that had almost run us down and had been at the library earlier. Zayd was speaking to the men in Hindi. He turned to us when we arrived.

Very good, he said to Qasim. You can return to my father's place and tell them about the unfortunate accident that befell poor Justin Macdonald, he added with a theatrical pout. And poor Chancellor Avninder. The same unfortunate accident.

Qasim smiled and then left. The men moved aside to reveal the tomb and coffin of the maharajah in the middle of the clearing. Avninder gasped. He hadn't actually seen the coffin and the tomb, only that it was located in the basement of the university library.

Zayd walked over to the tomb and with the help of three men lifted the ornate stone top to reveal the coffin inside. He lifted the top of the tomb and it was my turn to gasp.

The coffin was empty—well, not empty but there was no body—there wasn't room for a body.

The coffin was filled with what looked like money. Indian rupees from the late nineteenth or early twentieth century most likely.

But—where is Maharajah Singh? Avninder exclaimed. You removed his body? That is sacrilege, he blurted, looking at Zayd.

Calm down old man, Zayd remarked. He was never buried here—at least not in the coffin and this tomb.

But—but where is—

All in due time, Chancellor, Zayd said calmly.

The men began to scoop up the rolls of money into the back of the truck. Once it was empty the lid was shut and the tomb cover was put back on. Four of the men started to dig a hole near the tree line. I noticed a stone marker next to the hole.

This is where the maharajah was originally buried, I said to Zayd and he nodded. Yes. It was stolen in 1920 because they didn't want the secret to get out—that the maharajah was not really buried here.

Why was this secret kept so long? I asked.

The men continued to dig while Zayd went on. When the maharajah died he was a poor man, not the rich man everyone thought he was. Seems one of his advisers was stealing money from him and he died poor but no one could know so he was given a royal funeral. But he was buried nearby. The money that his advisory stole from him had to be hidden until all the maharajah's affairs could be settled.

Then the idea was to dig up the tomb and take the money? I surmised.

Zayd nodded. But the advisory got nervous and took the tomb away somewhere else. He was afraid one of the maharajah's fanatics would dig up his grave and discover the truth.

I nodded, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

And since the advisory was the only one who knew where the money was hidden—

The money was lost. No one knew where it was—but there were rumours. The advisers family knew about the money but had no idea where it was. They died with the secret.

How did you get involved and how did Kali and Sahay Misra get involved.

Zayd was silent for a moment. Why should I tell you? He then shrugged. I guess it's no harm. You won't be able to tell anyone, he added with a grin. OK, then. Kali Misra is a descendent of the adviser’s family. She is his great granddaughter. She came across some papers when her grandfather died a few months ago.

And you were friends with Sahay Misra and found out about it?

Zayd nodded. I figured it was at the university, he said. Misra's grandfather had been a professor at the university so it only made sense that his father had hidden the tomb full of money there. But it is a big university. I searched for months.

Then Taran Chopra found it by accident, I remarked and Zayd nodded.

Taran is a stupid fool, Zayd muttered. He had no idea about the money. He ran and told you, Chancellor Avninder, he added looking at the older man. And you made the mistake of telling your family. Your son Samar told me about it a few weeks ago.

But this is enough talking. You already know too much. Soon I will be gone with the money and leave this filthy city that my father loves so much. He never liked me. He always liked my older brother Balan better anyway. Now he can be rid of me for good.

I know your brother Balan died. When it happened you blamed Raj? I remarked. Raj and he were best friends.

Zayd just looked at me but didn't answer. He turned and walked over to the truck to supervise the loading, which was just finishing. He returned a few minutes later. I'm afraid you won't be making the trip, he muttered. Come on, back to the boat.

We trudged back up the path to the boat that was still moored at the dock. We followed Zayd up to the dock. Once aboard I noticed a police launch out patrolling the bay. If we were to attract it's attention, Zayd would surely just shoot us and be gone before the police arrived. How could we attract their attention. I whispered this to Avninder and he nodded that he understood. A few seconds later he whispered back. How well can you swim?

Well, I responded.

With that Avninder flung himself overboard into the deep water of the bay, yelling at the top of his lungs. I did the same, following him into the water.

Avninder was flailing his arms and making as much racket as he could. I followed suit. I saw Zayd on the deck looking helplessly at us. If he fired his gun the police would surely hear it.

But they sure heard our racket. Within minutes that launch was upon us and came up beside us. A ladder was lowered to us and we were ordered to come aboard. I looked around and saw that Zayd had disappeared from the freighter deck.

Quickly I said, climbing aboard, dripping water on the police launch deck. On the island. There are some men stealing money. They're getting away.

Avninder repeated in Hindi what I had said. One of the men got on the radio and spoke a few words, the second man turned the launch and headed to shore.

We jumped ashore followed by two of the officers and headed to the clearing. Zayd was just getting into the drivers seat of the truck.

You must stop those men, Avninder pleaded pointing. There is money in the back that has been gotten by illegal means.

The truck was soon surrounded and Zayd and his associates were detained. A quick search of the truck revealed the old money. I led one of the officers to the newly dug grave where the tomb had recently been buried and had been hastily covered with dirt.

A dispatch had been sent out and re-reinforcements arrived within the hour. Zayd and his cronies were arrested and brought aboard the police launch.

As we rode back across Mumbai harbour, the city stretching out ahead of us, the tall sky scrapers mixing with smaller buildings, I asked Mr. Avninder what gave him the idea about jumping overboard to attract the police launch.

He smiled. Swimming is strictly prohibited from the island and is a big problem in the area, he noted. I knew the police would be on the lookout for anyone swimming in the area. They would not have ignored us.

It was 3 pm when we arrived back at the station. Raj met me there as did Uncle Fuad and Neela. 

We are so sorry, Fuad remarked when he saw my dishevelled appearance. Raj had brought a change of clothes for me and I quickly dressed in cargo shorts and t-shirt. I returned to the group a few minutes later.

We just learned that the milk we had been served last evening was drugged so we would sleep, Fuad said. It was the work of Qasim. You were not affected? He asked curiously.

I nodded. I don't really like warm milk and only pretended to drink, I remarked. I was able to stumble on Zayd's involvement in the elaborate ruse to steal the maharajah's money.

Fuad hung his head. I am also sorry about my son, he said quietly. And about Qasim, he added. I had no idea what they were doing. It was Qasim who trashed the apartment that day. He was the only one who had access and only did it to frustrate you so you would give up and maybe go home.

He doesn't know me very well if he thinks I would give up after that.  And it's not your fault, I added. You can't be responsible for what Zayd does or what Qasim did. Zayd's old enough now to make his own decisions.

We gathered in one of the small conference rooms where I related what Zayd had told me about the scheme to steal the money from the maharajah's tomb.

I had no idea Kali Misra was trying to get the money as well, Fuad said. I thought I could trust her. He husband was the most honest businessman I knew and was a trusted associate. He died last year and his wife took over his business.

She has been arrested as well, I related. She is of course grieving her son's death.

Did they ever find the drivers of the truck? Raj wondered.

Yes, it was two of Zayd's associates. The two who had actually reburied the grave—without the money in it. The driver will be charged with manslaughter.

Just then the door opened and Taran walked in. There was a large bandage on his forehead and on his knee where the truck had scraped him when it ran him over outside the library.

Are you OK?  I asked as he sat down next to Raj. He nodded. I am now, thanks to you.

I didn't do much, I said.

You managed to catch Zayd, he said. I'm sorry, Mr. Mistry, he added looking at Fuad.

I heard about the money that was in the coffin, he continued, looking back at me. The police told me when I gave my report. Whoa! There must have been a few million rupees inside.

Yes, I said. It was quite the scandal. The maharajah's advisory was stealing his money and had it buried in the coffin

So at his funeral everyone was looking at the coffin thinking the maharajah was inside but it was filled with money? Fuad remarked. Incredible story.

We all nodded in agreement and were silent for a few moments.

It was Jag and Zayd who locked us in the storage room, I said, turning to Taran. Jag had gotten suspicious when I talked to him outside the library. He went to fetch Zayd and were going to confront us about the tomb once and for all, but instead just followed us when we left the study room.

So they learned the location of the tomb, and probably went to get the truck and come back for it, Taran remarked.

That's the most likely scenario, I said.

Let's go, Fuad said. We are all tired. Taran, you can come to our home as well. You are a friend after all.

Taran nodded. Thanks he said. I live alone, he added. I don't want to be alone right now.

Back at the Mistry's, Adya and Maya had planned a beautiful dinner. They were both understandably upset about Zayd, but not totally surprised. Sisters Aaliyah and Saniya were there as well waiting for us. Saniya came over to Raj and pulled him away.

At the meal, discussion surrounded the maharajah's tomb and Zayd's involvement in the scheme to steal the money, as well as the involvement of the Misra's.

Zayd's been distant for many years, Adya said sadly as the servants were clearing away the dishes. Ever since his older brother Balan was killed. I feel badly that we did something wrong, that we should have been better parents.

I feel we have lost a son, but gained some new friends. Taran, you and your friends are welcome here any time, of course. You have helped my family and helped recover the maharajah's tomb. And you of course, Justin. You are a good friend of my nephew and niece. You are welcome here as well.

I nodded. Thanks, I said. What will happen to the tomb? I asked. Will the maharajah finally be buried properly?

Yes, Fuad, said brightening. His body has been discovered not far from where the original tomb was located. He will be buried properly elsewhere on Gharapuri Island. And the money that had been stolen from him will be used to build another shrine on the island.

That's great news! I exclaimed.

I noticed that Saniya was whispering to Raj and he was looking embarrassed.

No whispering at the table, Maya admonished looking at her cousin. Come on, you need to share with all of us.

It's n-nothing, Raj said sheepishly.

I was just asking him on a date, Saniya said. Maybe we could double date with Aaliyah and Taran. There's a new movie coming out in a few days.

We'll be going home before then, won't we, Justin, he said staring at me and nodding his head.

Oh, I don't know, Raj. You look like you really want to go see this movie with Saniya. We can stay a little while longer—if your aunt and uncle let us stay that is?

Oh, of course, Adya said with a smile. You can stay as long as you like.

Raj hung his head. OK, we can go to the movie, he said in as excited voice as he could muster.

Fine, then it's settled, Saniya said. Now we have to find a date for Justin.

I'll go with him, Maya said quickly. She looked at me and batted her eyes. Fuad harrumphed and Maya looked away.

Sure I would love to go with you, Maya, I said. I have a question, though. I don't speak Hindi. Will I be able to understand the movie?

It's a love story, Saniya said. You won't need to understand the words to understand the story.

A love story? Raj said with a stricken look. You didn't tell me it was a love story. I thought it was the new action flick with my hero Ravi Shankar.

Everyone laughed at his discomfort but I came to his rescue. Don't worry, buddy. We can see your movie another time. Maybe tomorrow.

Sure, but you're lucky, he said, looking at me. At least with the love story you won't understand any of what they're saying. Unfortunately, I am fluent in Hindi. I'll understand every last word of it!

**the end**

copyright 2015 by J.T. Brock