Justin Stone and the Iris of the Madonna

[joegoda]

Breakfast was normally a quiet affair in the house of Stone.

Justin would wake at four-thirty every morning, a habit which he acquired as a child and continued throughout his adult life. Regardless of his previous state of the night before, he would always wake fully refreshed, as if the few hours of sleep would completely rejuvenate him.

Jonathan, on the other hand, would wander down from his room on the second floor, grumble something intelligible to his brother, pour some coffee and disappear through the door in the kitchen to his workroom. He might wander down at anytime of the morning, bleary eyed and half conscious, leaning on the positive side of surly.

This morning, however, both brothers were up earlier than their guest and sat at the small breakfast table, speaking in low tones. When Jules Verne finally made his way to the table, it was a quarter past seven in the morning, and he appeared a bit confused, but rested none the less.

"Good morning, monsieur Verne," Justin said brightly. "I do hope you found our guest room to your liking."

"Oui," he said, his voice still on the edge of sleep. "Although I must admit I did not expect to see you up and so lively. You appeared to be on the edge of unconsciousness last night."

"Ah, well," Justin said, throwing a tiny glance at his brother. "Looks are often deceiving. I was merely tired, is all. Running a corporation the size of the Stone Foundation will, indeed, take it out of a man."

Verne took a place at the tiny round table, with Justin on his left and Jonathan on his right. He sat quietly for a while, watching the other two men eat in silence, and then said, "Will the servant be bringing breakfast?"

Justin placed his fork on his plate and politely wiped his lips. "Please, please forgive us, monsieur Verne!" He stood, walked to one of the many cabinets in the kitchen and retrieved a plate. "We don't have any servants. I don't see the need for them, and Jonathan... His mother was a servant. We actually find the whole servant concept undesirable and unseemly, something that should be done away with, except in circumstances where they may be necessary."

From a large skillet on the cook stove, he spooned up a large portion of eggs. "We have eggs, scrambled and toast and coffee," he offered to Verne. "There is also some tea, but it will have to be brewed. It may be simple fare perhaps, but it serves our needs."

"Merci, I will take all that you have, please," Verne said politely. "Tea, rather than coffee, if it is not to much trouble to light the burner."

"Burner?" Jonathan looked up from his rasher of eggs. "We don't use burners here. It's all electric."

"You use electricity to cook?" Verne rose from his seat and joined Justin at the cook stove. "Ah! I see. That is quite ingenious." He turned to Jonathan. "This was your concept?"

Jonathan nodded, and around a mouthful he said, "Yep."

"In fact, Monsieur Verne, the tea is brewed without using the cook stove." Justin pointed to a large steel and copper device. "The water heats in its own reservoir and then percolates down where it pours gently into the carafe. The tea steeps while the water is pouring over it, and by the time the water is done pouring, so is the tea. To demonstrate, he lifted a steel carafe and poured a measure of tea into a china tea cup. The steam rose from the cup and he passed it to Verne. "As fresh as if you had poured it yourself."

Verne nodded thanks over the cup and took it back to the little table. "You are exactly who I thought you would be, monsieur Ratzenmueller." He gingerly sipped his hot tea noisily. "Perhaps a little sugar?"

"It's in the Kitchen, Jules," Jonathan said. "Help yourself."

"Jonathan! He is our guest," Justin admonished. He brought a china sugar bowl to the table. "We tend to not use much sugar, Monsieur Verne. We believe that it dulls the senses after giving nothing more than a minor burst of energy."

Verne nodded. "There may be some merit in that, indeed. However, it is a habit I developed years ago while at Cambridge." He spooned three spoons of sugar into his tea. "Hot and sweet, that is how I like it."

In short order, Justin brought a gold rimmed plate to the table, laden with scrambled eggs, a rasher of bacon and two slices of fresh bread, toasted. He also produced a small bowl of butter, also fresh and placed it before their guest.

Verne forked eggs into his mouth, being careful about his beard and rolled his eyes. "Alors! This is wonderful!" He turned an eye to Justin. "I suspect there is more than just eggs in these eggs."

Justin smiled gently. "One of my hobbies, I'm afraid. Had I not had the fortune to be rich and in charge of the Foundation, I might have opened a restaurant." He bent down and whispered in Verne's ear, "It's a selection of some very secret spices, the least of which is a bit of paprika. I don't tell Jonathan about it, because he doesn't like paprika."

"And," Jonathan said, not looking up, "I eat it anyway. Amazing isn't it?"

Justin took his seat once more. "Now... about the Iris? What can you tell us about it and the most unusual circumstances that occurred last night?"

Verne set down his fork and settled himself in his chair. "It is a long story, monsieurs. I first heard about the Iris five years ago. It intrigued me in a fashion that I hope will become apparent as the story unfolds."

"The Iris was carved in 1305 and was to have been sent to Pope Clement V as a sign of devotion and loyalty after his ascension. It was carved by a monk named John, who resided in the monastery of Saint John of Stoudios in Constantinople. On the way to Rome, the caravan that carried the Iris was attacked. This has been verified by ancient trade records from the Monastery. The Iris is listed on the manifest as a 'devotional of a carved crystal' to be delivered to the Pope's office in Rome."

"There are a few documents that describe the special characteristics of the Iris. Through some process, the monk was able to introduce a small flaw into the crystal. Monastery writings indicate that when the Iris was placed in direct sunlight a "lifelike image of the Madonna with child" was produced with such quality that the Abbott of Stoudios debated on charging the poor monk with idolatry and witchcraft. That may simply be part of the legend surround the Iris. Of course the Abbott did not sentence the monk to his death. Instead the Abbott decided that the Iris was of such quality that it should be presented to Pope Clement."

"It was this 'flaw' that apparently produced the astonishing image. The process of creating and inducing this flaw was not documented, sadly. To date, no one has been able to re-create it. I suspect, however, it had to do with a highly concentrated light beam, although how a simple monk was able to achieve that is beyond me." Verne sighed. "It is just another example of ancient art lost to the world."

There is no mention of the Iris for almost a hundred years. It was only pure fortune that I should stumble on a bit of writing from a merchant in ancient Serbia to his son, who was in the Serbian army. The merchant mentioned it in passing as an item he had acquired from an old man seeking quick monies for a gambling debt.

"The Iris and the unusual image it produced surfaced again and again in some of the rumors of the area around and in Serbia. Miracles of healing were attributed to a 'Crystal flower that glowed with a Holy light in the 1400s. Again, in 1460, the Iris was sold to a merchant named Neetsa who lived in the Transylvanian city of Sibiu. Why it was sold is not known."

Neetsa kept careful records of his dealings, and listed the Iris as a 'household decoration' of unusual properties. He never documented the appearance of the Madonna and Child, although," and here his voice grew a bit excited, "he did make mention of an unusual rainbow effect, which flooded the room with multi colored light when the Iris was exposed to candle light."

"Neetsa's shop was, apparently robbed and burned to the ground the next year. Fortunately, Neetsa's records were kept separate and were not lost. Unfortunately, no record of the Iris being sold, stolen or lost was found. It might have been assumed that the Iris was destroyed in the fire, but that assumption would have been false."

"Following the slim hope that the Iris survived, I continued my research. Nothing I encountered for the next year developed into even the most minuscule of possibilities. Then, in the Imperial National Library in Paris, I found that most remarkable of things... the coincidence."

"A group of school children were being lectured on Issac Newton, that most remarkable scientist, philosopher and alchemist. I was struck by an inspiration and spent the next several months studying all of his works."

"Newton?" Justin looked over at Jonathan.

Jonathan nodded and said, "Sir Issac wrote a number of papers on light and optics, Justin."

"Ah." Justin nodded to Verne to continue.

"Just so, monsieur Ratzenmueller, just so." Verne nodded and smiled. "Optics and light. Newton wrote about the effect of the prism on breaking down light into the primary colors, and how another prism, placed just so, will bring those colors back to the white light. But," here Verne raised a finger, to make a point, "That was not the most important thing. Newton theorized that light was created of corpuscles, very, very tiny. He speculated that light and matter are both made of these corpuscles, with matter, of course being made of larger, grosser corpuscles. He further speculated that matter and light may very well be interchangeable, with the proper alchemical transmutation applied."

"I began to suspect that Newton, though one source or another, had acquired the Iris and had discovered a number of the crystal's secrets. Indeed, it may very well have been the crystals influence that pushed him to postulate upon some of the more... esoteric characteristics of light."

He raised his eyebrows at the brothers and leaned forward. "In fact, it is my belief that it was the Iris itself was a great aid to many, and perhaps most, of his theories and discoveries."

Setting back in his seat, he crossed his hands over his belly and continued. "Newton died in 1727, intestate. Catherine Barton Conduitt, who was Newton's half-niece, oversaw to his affairs. In a ledger detailing Newton's belongings and property, there was a mention of a particular 'Crystal sculpture of unusual beauty'. I assumed she kept that sculpture for her own.

"She died twelve years later, in 1739. Her daughter Catherine was born in 1719. The Iris would have passed on to Catherine, as the only heir. Catherine married John Wallop, first Earl of Portsmouth and the Iris would have passed on to their son, John Wallop, the second Earl of Portsmouth when they died. Granted, the Iris may not have displayed any of its rather unusual properties, but it would have still been an heirloom, and something that connected the family to the great Sir Issac Newton."

"That is where I picked up the trail of the Iris. The second Earl of Portsmouth died in 1797, and his sons, the third and fourth Earls of Portsmouth had a minor battle over his estate. During that time, while the estate was in probate, it was kept in a warehouse, near the docks of Portsmouth. One of the items listed was a family heirloom, a beautiful crystal Iris."

In 1798, the warehouse was broken into and a number of items stolen. The police report listed the iris as being among the items taken. The thieves were apprehended, as it was very hard to dispose of objects which so obviously belonged to royalty. The thieves were turned in by the very men to whom the thieves were trying to sell their stolen goods to."

"One thing, though. The Iris was not recovered. One of the thieves admitted to having been put up to the robbery by a man who said they could have whatever they wanted from the warehouse, as long as he got the Iris."

Verne clapped his hands together. "I was so close, messieurs. I had found the Iris, tracked it down as close as less than one hundred years ago, only to have it disappear again. I would not be deterred."

"I examined every ship's manifest and log that left that dock for months after the theft. I searched for any news coming from Portsmouth and the surrounding areas for anything remotely related to the crystal. I will admit gentlemen; I was very close to giving up."

"On a visit to Boston a year ago, I found an obscure mention of an illusionist named Chung Ling Soo, who was performing an act that included a brilliant flash of light, followed by the appearance of a 'hundred dragons'."

"I tracked his performances to the Chicago area, and was actually able to attend one of them. He did, indeed, produce what appeared to be the blurred image of a Chinese dragon, rising from what he called "The Egg of the Orient", which he kept in an elaborate box onstage."

"I approached him after his performance, and speaking to him through his interpreter, I conveyed my interest in the 'egg'. He showed it to me, and it was, from all accounts and descriptions, the Iris of the Madonna. I asked him if he would be interested in selling it to me, and he refused, as it was one of the highlights of his performance. Still, I was hopeful, so I followed his performance circuit as he traveled from city to city."

"Last July, he was once again performing in the Chicago area. After his performances, he was leaving the hotel he stayed in, and was robbed. The thieves took his money, a few other valuables and the Iris. It is my suspicion that the Iris was what they were really after."

"He reported his theft to the police, who duly took note of the theft and did their best, but the thieves were never found. I know this because I found them first."

He turned his head and looked away. "Such men should not be allowed to run free, gentlemen." He turned his gaze back to the brothers. "No, I did not kill them. That would be murder, indeed, and I cannot commit such an act. No, I found them, and relieved them of their stolen bounty. While they were in my captivity, I was determined to rehabilitate them. I have a device, you see, which can remove such violent behaviors by use of directed electric charges into the brain."

Jonathan's eyes grew large. "You shot electricity directly into their brains? And they lived?"

Verne sighed, and his kind eyes became sad again. "The process is not perfected as yet, and the two men were reduced to simpletons, able to communicate and do most normal day to day operations, but they would be... unfit for living in the world outside my compound. I kept them on as part of my crew, out of pity, where they are well cared for."

"So, you cured them by turning them into... idiots," Justin observed.

"Crassly said, monsieur Stone, but yes." Verne's face grew hard. "It is my hope that someday my device will find a use in medicine, to aid those who are afflicted with illnesses of the mind. As I said, it is not a perfect process, yet, but I have hope."

"Regardless," Justin said, "the process didn't kill the men, so it was partially successful."

"Oui." Verne nodded. It removed their violent tendencies and reduced them, mentally, to the age of a five or six year old child." He shook his head, sadly. "Unfortunately."

"So, with the proper supervision, they could be rehabilitated," Justin mused. "Given proper raising, in a manner of speaking."

Verne's visage brightened. "Yes, that is my hope. I believe that you understand I meant these men no evil and that you do not think ill of me."

Justin looked sternly at his guest. "Sir, I do not know if I condone such a device. In fact, I do not know if I even like the idea of such a device existing. But that is neither here nor there. It does exist, and as you say, it may have some benefit in the future. Perhaps if you might lend it to the Stone Foundation for further study...?"

Verne grew thoughtful. "Perhaps..."

Jonathan waved his hands. "Hey... we're talking about the Iris here, not your next medical breakthrough. You can work out that stuff later." He turned to Verne. "Can we get back to the story?"

Verne nodded at Jonathan. "Oui. The rest of the story is fairly short, messieurs. I took the Iris from the thieves, sent it to a local pawnshop run by a monsieur Schulman, to hold until a gentleman came to collect it. I placed a call from the lobby of the Stone Foundation and had one of your secretaries type up a letter of employment to monsieur Hauptman and I sent a letter of my own."

Justin raised his hand for attention. "How was it that you selected that particular secretary? She and Hauptman were very close."

Verne nodded and gave a sly and slightly embarrassed smile. "Oui. I have been observing the comings and goings from the Stone Foundation for sometime, messieurs. I would need more than my poor knowledge to decipher the properties of the Iris, and you two are world renown for your ingenuity. Once I had made the decision to approach the two of you, it was necessary to create this ruse to gather your attention. Those two, monsieur Hauptman and his Mary were the obvious choice."

"Why so," Justin asked.

"Because they are," Verne paused, and then continued sadly, "were in love."

"Ah. Yes." Justin nodded in understanding. "The emotional connection between the two would have added a sense of urgency to the process, ensuring that Hauptman would move quickly to deliver the Iris to the foundation."

"Just so," said Verne.

"Okay," Jonathan interjected, "but why do the deal in the first place. Why not just approach us and say 'Guys, I have a really interesting thing I think you'd be interested in'?"

"Because, messieurs, I am not the only one that desires the Iris. There is, at least to my knowledge, one other. And he is not a good man." Verne shook his head gravely. "He is not a good man at all. He goes by the name of Professor Englebrandt. Perhaps you have heard of him?"

"Englebrandt?" Jonathan face opened in surprise. "Heck yes, I've heard of him. Outlaw of most of the scientific communities? I've heard he's wanted by most of the civilized countries for one crime or another." He turned to Justin. "He's supposedly a genius, but one of those 'evil' geniuses that are written about in the pulps."

"He is a genius, monsieur Ratzenmueller. Make no mistake of that. And evil, unmistakably so." Verne nodded emphatically. "Unmistakably so." He looked at the two brothers, pleading. "And so, I come to you. For aid and protection. Will you give it to me?"

"Perhaps," said Justin. "We still don't quite understand why the Iris is so important to you."

"No?" Verne looked shocked. "I thought it was clear from the story. Whoever holds the Iris and unravels its mystery controls incredible power. I believe the Iris, when exposed to the properly tuned wavelength of light, will release energy comparable to the energy of a small sun."

"You're kidding!" Jonathan leaned forward in earnest. Verne didn't say anything, just met his gaze. "You're not kidding." He sat back and rubbed his chin. "How so, then?"

"I believe that, besides projecting images, such as the Madonna or a Dragon, Newton found that the Iris acts as a... light magnification device. I believe he found... some orientation of the Iris that propelled him to make such a statement that Light and matter were interchangeable. That light can become a corporeal body and vice versa."

He leaned forward and stared at Jonathan. "I believe that the Iris can be either the incredible transportation device, able to move things... people, goods, anything, from one spot to another in the blink of an eye. It might even able us to visit the moon and the other planets." His voice dropped just a bit and he said, "Perhaps even further."

Justin, unfazed by Verne's dramatics, said, "What you're not saying is that it could also be used to generate enough power that, in the wrong hands, it could cause considerable damage."

Verne sat back, swallowed and nodded. "Yes, that is also a possibility. The use of the Iris as a weapon is staggering to imagine for me. It could, conceivably destroy the world, or enough of it as to render our planet inhabitable."

Justin nodded and considered what he had heard for a few moments. A quiet humming sound came from the back of his throat, and Verne looked from Justin to his brother. Jonathan pulled his stare from Verne, looked at Justin and nodded. Justin didn't react at all, just looked up at the ceiling, humming.

"Is he all right," Verne asked.

"Yeah," Jonathan replied, forking another bite of breakfast into his mouth. "Just give him a bit of time and you'll get your answer." He looked over to Verne. "If I were you, I'd finish your breakfast. When he gets like this, it means that we're about to go running all over Hell's half acre."

Verne looked from Jonathan back to Justin, and then back to Jonathan. "Then you believe my story?"

With his mouth full, Jonathan nodded and swallowed. "I believe that you believe it. That's good enough for me. I've read your works, Jules. You're imaginative enough, sure, but not crazy. You didn't travel halfway across the world for a whim."

A thought came to him, and he said, "Those men that attacked us last night. What do you know about them? Talk while you eat. "I'm not kidding." He pointed his fork at Justin. "When he comes out of that trance, he's going to want to go, go, go."

Verne followed Jonathan's advice and began to eat with vigor. Between bites, he explained that "Englebrandt was a student at Graz in Austria. Perhaps you know of Nikola Tesla?"

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, we're old buddies. Go way back."

"They are contemporaries. Where Tesla is a more... practical genius, Englebrandt was more... unconventional. He turned toward mysticism and alchemy. He was ridiculed at Graz and he left in disgrace."

"But the ring...," Jonathan said. "It's from Graz, says it's an honorarium..."

"If it's from Graz, then I suspect that Englebrandt forged it himself." Verne shook his head and took a fierce bite of toast. "He never graduated. Rumors were that instead, he made his way to the Orient, and studied with the mystics there. Perhaps those men are trained killers from the Orient... the ninjas, I believe they are called."

Jonathan looked at Jonathan and nodded. "Ninjas," he said. "That's kind of what Justin thought, too." He was quiet for a moment, then continued. "If they got the Iris from Hauptman, why did they follow us? We don't have it."

Justin's humming abruptly stopped. Verne and Jonathan looked over at Justin with expectant eyes.

"It's because, my dear Jonathan," he said, "they did not know we didn't have it. They thought we did." He pushed away from the table and rose. He paced for a few steps, then stopped and pointed at Jonathan. "Are those fletchet pistols you've been playing with operative?"

"Yes," Jonathan said, "but their range is limited. I haven't found the right combination of air pressure and..."

"It doesn't matter, Jonathan." Justin continued pacing. "Go get..." he looked at Verne. "I assume, monsieur, that you can fire a pistol?"

"Oui, I can." Verne looked confused. "What are you thinking?"

Justin turned back to Jonathan. "Go charge them and get three of them. I assume that the fletchets will immobilize without killing?"

"Sure," said Jonathan. "I wasn't building a weapon to kill things. You know that. Those fletchet pistols are designed to aid researchers who want to bring back living animals for study."

"Excellent!" Justin clapped his hands. "Bring them, and the darts. Hopefully we won't need them, but I'd like to be prepared in any instance." To Verne he said, "Monsieur, go get your hat and coat, please. Make preparations to travel."

"What's up, Justin?" Jonathan stopped at the door to his workshop. "What's on your mind?"

"We... or rather I have been running with the wrong assumptions," Justin said, seriously. "I was thinking that the men who were outside the pawnshop were the same men that killed Hauptman. They were not. They had no idea that the Iris was never delivered, and when they saw us go to the pawnshop, they thought we knew where monsieur Verne had sent it. Indeed, they thought we and Verne had already met." His gaze grew steely. "That is why they attacked us on the monorail. They weren't sure we had the Iris until we had left the pawnshop and were safely on our way."

"But we didn't have the Iris," Jonathan pointed out.

"Exactly!" Justin rubbed the side of his nose. "But you see, they didn't know that, Jonathan. They were going to kill us, and then remove the Iris from the wreckage." He smiled at his brother. "They did not count on your incredible skill at driving, brother. In fact, I would say that they disappeared that night to find a place to land their dirigible so they could come back and search the wreckage for the Iris."

"And the nearest place to park a dirigible is..." Justin looked at his brother for the answer.

"Stone Park!" Jonathan pounded fist into open palm. "Of course! Now, it makes sense." A look of concern crossed his face and his brows knotted. "But Justin... when they don't find the Iris, they'll come looking for...," He sniffed the air. "Is that smoke?"

"No time to lose," Justin said excitedly. To Verne, he said, "Gather your things, monsieur! Quickly! Allez! allez!" Verne disappeared from the kitchen; the sound of his shoes on the steps told the brothers that the man was running up the stairs. Justin turned to Jonathan. "There isn't any time, Jon. They're here and they're burning down the house. Do you have anything in that madhouse of yours that will get us out of here?"

Jonathan thought furiously. "Maybe. The automobile might..." He shook his head negatively. "It would take me thirty minutes to put the engine back in."

Verne appeared in the kitchen, out of breath, his tie disheveled. "Perhaps, if I lend a hand?" He smiled wanly. "I used to be a bit of mechanic in my younger years."

Justin clapped his hands, and smiled gleefully. "Gentlemen, let us be off!" He disappeared for a moment, and then returned carrying his coat, hat and cane. Seeing Verne's puzzled look, he explained, "After our last house burned down, Jonathan and I made sure that I would never again lose my books. Right now, my study is sinking into the ground. The fire will never touch it."

Verne's eyes grew large. "Amazing," he said, shaking his head. "Simply amazing."

"There's time to be amazed later, Jules." Jonathan took Verne's arm and started to lead him down the stairs to his workshop. "We have work to do." Over his shoulder, he directed a question to Justin. "Where are we going this time, brother?"

Justin, hat in hand, his suit impeccable, twirled his cane and said, smiling like the cat that ate the canary, "Why, back to the scene of the crime, brother. Back to the scene of the crime."