XXI | Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald

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I STARE AT THE EMPTY CASE.

The place where the Crown Jewels once laid, gleaming, until they were stolen in 1805.

"The Crown Jewels were originally from Egypt, and they're not to be mistaken with the English Crown Jewels, which were also stolen. The Egyptian Crown Jewels were a secret to most of the population until on July 24th, 1805, when they were taken." My voice is loud in the small room.

Five Mafia members stare blankly at me.

Angel, Dominic, Retta, Maria and Alessandro.

Continuing on, I say, "In the broad of daylight, a group of thieves came up to the tower. They pretended to be security, they walked in dressed properly, acting like they belonged. And they took the Jewels."

"What about an alarm? A backup measure?" Angel says.

"So few people knew about the existence of the Jewels it seemed unnecessary. Besides, any kind of backup measure would serve as a beacon. It would make people ask questions, like what is so important it needs extra security. Of course, they had spies in place as tourists, but when the thieves acted like they belonged, they convinced even the security they were meant to be there. Unbelievable, isn't it?"

This room, empty for two hundred years, is all but deserted of tourists except for us. I can't even say I'm surprised. The Egyptian Crown Jewels may have been beautiful, but all that's left here is the memory of them. And a plaque, describing their history.

"Okay, I get that, but if no one knows who took them . . . how exactly do we find them?" one of the Mafia asks me. Maria, with her bruised knuckles and sleek brown hair, is looking at me with something like curiosity, fascination.

I rap my knuckles against the wall, as though I'm a teacher striking the chalkboard. "Pay attention now, students. We do know who took them. A rebel group called the Six of Swords. In 1805, they hated the monarchy and they wanted enough riches to overthrow the French royalty. You'd think, after they had these Crown Jewels, they'd become the stars of the revolution."

Everyone stares at me blankly.

"Wrong," I say. "They disappeared. They never used their riches. Not a single one of the Six was ever known to the public for over fifty years."

I wait for a theatrical gasp, or wide eyes, but no one seems to grasp the gravity of what I'm saying. I roll my eyes. "Maurizio Colora, at the age of 72, confessed to the crime. He was the only one. He did not reveal any names of his group, but he became the face of a long-cold case."

Angel raises an eyebrow. "How do they know he wasn't lying? What if he wanted the fame? There's no proof."

"Oh, but here's where you're wrong," I say. "Besides him being 72, there was no point of him confessing to a forgotten theft that he was under no suspicion of. But that's not the point. As evidence, he produced a single ruby. A ruby so precious and pure it could have only been carved from a time thousands of years ago. A ruby that is featured so centrally in the very heart of the Egyptian Crown."

"So why didn't they search him?" Angel says.

"They tried. A week after he confessed, he died, and everything he inherited went to his son. The soldiers had no more rights after the son convinced them his father was a raving lunatic and that the ruby was an heirloom from his deceased mother."

"What if his son was right?"

"He wasn't," I say grimly. "He took the ruby and he went off the grid. Until his own death in 1899, no one knew what had become of him. All he said was that he had found it. He had found something. And that was it."

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