Inheritance

“I sure hope this is right.”

The figure mumbled this as he slowly read the last words penned on the tattered piece of paper before carefully folding and inserting it into his back pocket. The silhouette of a man reflected against the floor as the moon directly bared it’s light from the outside window. The figure took in a deep breath and turned towards the door of interest.

Everything was pre-planned and prepared beforehand. The layout, then camera locations, the works...everything.

Well, everything that Russell was in control of, anyways.

While he could gain access to the cameras remotely, he found that there was a reset on the security code every ten minutes. Which means if he set for the cameras to go dark, he would only have this specific period of time to work with before they reverted back to working order. That coupled with the fact that regular breaks for security lasted about fifteen, so he’d have to count on them leaving for theirs. That is, if the ones he asked earlier under the guise that he considered applying for a position were being honest.

Though this was far from Russell’s first heist, it was the first one requiring he go in alone. He pondered all of this as the hand on his watch swung to midnight.

"Showtime.” Russell whispered as his eyes scanned for all the confirmations as the phone screen’s light shined upon his face. He tapped in the code and hit the confirmation button. The loading screen overran itself with various text. A growing anticipation grew in Russell’s heart. What if it didn’t go through? What if the override failed and the alarms went off? What if-

“All building personnel cameras switched to off.” read in bold text across his phone’s screen.

His apprehension halted, overtaken by a joyous feeling.

He knelt down to the doorknob and went to work. Swinging out his lock-pick set, he did his thing before he finally heard a minute click ring out into the ear that pressed against door of the room his target remained behind. A sly and affirmative grin slipped onto Russell’s face when the door slowly pushed inwards.

“They really should switch to electronic.” Russell quipped, throwing in a cocky chuckle as the forbidden room revealed itself.

Despite the minimalist appearance, it was still a rather eye-opening sight. Inside was a fairly small room with four blood orange-colored walls. Two distinct lights illuminated from above to reveal the real treasures: a highly-decorated necklace adorned with multiple jewels that displayed itself inside of it’s own separate case in a magnificently stagnant pose. The beam of light that showered complemented it’s beauty; the many incrusted and adorned gems glimmered in the spotlight and hid nothing short of it’s splendor.

Russell had to forcefully tear his eyes away to lay sights on the second display case which held a less splendorous object at first glance. Laid flat behind the protective glass was a relatively small black book. The light above it bore through the clear glass onto the rather simple-looking book, but gave off no shiny sparkles of grander. It gave off no marvelous gleams of gold or inherent value.

He was surprised to find it went on auction for $20,000. To him, it was much, much more valuable. Someone behind the curtains was making sure it fell into a certain person’s hands. Lowering it’s value did surprising wonders in keeping vain bidders away. Sometimes.

And it was the exact book Russell was aiming for.

He got a better observation, quickly taking notice at the top where a strip of brown tape resided.

‘Scarland Draderson’s Memoirs: A Legacy In Waiting’ was written in cursive on its surface.

“This...this is really it. That’s his handwriting...” Russell’s voice cracking halfway through. He cleared his throat and swiftly pulled out a pair of elastic gloves. Unzipping his jacket pocket next, he reached in and pulled out a small key. Observing it’s bronze shape, he briefly reflected on what was relayed to him earlier through the old letter.

The answer that unlocks the clear will have two paths, and upon the decision of one, the other will be one no more.

Russell stifled a laugh as his vision cycled between the luxurious necklace and the black book. “I’m assuming that’s treasure hunt slang for “the key is gonna break after I insert it into one of the display locks, effectively leaving any other choice kaput””.

A pulse of remembrance shot through his brain, which led him to check his watch for the time.

“Seven minutes...need to hurry with this. I still have to get out, after all.”

Russell positioned the bronze key into the small keyhole to the black book’s display case and delicately twisted it deep inside. A click was accompanied by a small, sharp snap, which signaled him to pull it back out. Despite his delicate efforts, the bronze key had broken into two, and the inserted end lost inside the hole. Still, his goal was met. Russell gripped the silver handle attached to the glass of the display and slowly swung it open.

There it was.

The black book he had planned for years to retrieve was finally for the taking. His taking.

“Hey!”

Russell’s muscles tensed and a sharp wave of dread washed over his body. Standing as still as a tree, he refused to twitch even a muscle. He wouldn’t risk it. Getting tased sucked. He had his experiences. And despite his rapidly diminishing hope that any minute he’d recognize the voice and turn to find his longtime partner in research and crime stupidly pointing finger guns at him, he knew it was but a pipe dream. But just maybe...

“This is security! So don’t you move, or I’ll have to use authorized force!”

Nope, definitely not an associate of his.

“Hands in the air. Make one false move, you’re gonna get 50,000 volts of regret coursing through your body.” the supposed security guard relayed from behind him.

“Dang, not again...” Russell said to his own self more than anyone else.

“What?” the security guard asked as his footsteps got closer.

Russell laughed lowly before slightly turning his head around. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had the wrath of a taser pointed at my-”

“I don’t care, just put your hands behind your back...slowly.” the guard ordered as Russell took in a deep breath of momentary defeat.

Following orders, Russell’s eyes remained fixated on the open case that held the black book. The last piece of the puzzle he was so close to finally solving. In his mind, he relayed all the possible reasons for his plan going haywire. Was it chance that the security guard found him lurking about? Was there a secret alarm that went off when the door was unlocked? Did the guard come off break early to notice the camera monitors were blank?

In the end, none of it mattered. What was done, was done. But in his many experiences with close-calls, one thing was always beaten into his brain as the golden rule. Always stay relaxed. Always stay calm.

“I actually forgot to add that Karate Kid was my favorite film.” Russell added, voice upbeat.

This earned him a passive scoff from the guard. “Well in that case, you should learn to be humble, speak less and-”

As he gripped the thief’s arm, the guard’s vision flipped upside-down. He went into a spiraled blur before his back met with the ground. The impact left the guard breathless and the taser left his hands. It slid across the floor, just out of reach. The guard’s eyes clenched closed in pain before regaining his composure and scrambled to get to his feet again.

It was too late. Russell had hurriedly retrieved the black book. He leapt over the security guard’s disgraced form, and bounded for the room’s exit. While the guard retaliated in running after him, something dropped behind the book thief. The guard glanced down, having no warning before a pop sounded out following an excruciatingly bright light that filled and burned his vision.

The blinding remained long enough to render going after the thief a lost cause.

Pressed for time, Russell left out the way he came; through the ducts of the ceiling and eventually, the roof. He retrieved his hook rope from his backpack and secured the hook edge against the edge of the building, lowering himself down. As feet met the grass, Russell immediately went to check his watch again.

“Forty-three seconds. Gotta go. Now.”

Russell had never opened the driver’s door and started the engine to a car so fast.

It wasn’t long before the door to his flat opened. Russell slipped in quickly, closing it behind him in a silent rush. Pausing and staring at the wall across the room, a wide grin across his face. His back slid down against the door while his eyes trailed down to observe the black book that lay in his lap.

“Your finally home.” Russell remarked. Eyes drowsy from the exhaustive task, he got up and eyed the old outdated chest that remained on the kitchen table.

Butterflies filled him as his finger lifted the latch that held it together. Expecting pages of reminiscence, what he got instead was hollowed-out space. A singular, rusted key was left in the center.

“What do ya bet...” Russell rushed to the wooden chest and fitted the key into the keyhole, twisting it. A satisfying noise was made in response and the chest slowly but surely creeped open. “

Child-like wonder spread across Russell’s face as his eyes laid upon various artifacts of old and coins of age neatly set within the chest’s confines. Though it was all rather thrilling, it was the folded note in the center that caught his attention the most. Unfurling the paper, Russell began to read it.

“They say time is relative to enjoyment and perspective...but in all my years of getting away with doing what I truly hold dear, I never really felt it slow for me. Father Time never gave me mercy on that behalf. Or perhaps I never game it to myself. With this personal revelation in my final days, I never slowed down to give you the care that I wish I did. I never put down the books and research papers enough to simply be a grandfather. Despite my accolades and accomplishments, your life was far from easy. The pressure to live up to my standards and your father’s untimely death...I’m sure it’s left a heavy weight upon you.”

Russell paused. He let the hand that held the note fall loosely to his side. A mixture of feelings met together in his racing mind before he managed to gather himself enough to continue.

“However, I believe I am certain of one thing. That the right person has went through the troubling task of finding this note. A certain Draderson like me. And this note, I pray, will gift you something that will never fill the lost time I could never man up to give. Call it a small start. Gifted from the grave, to you.

I’m speaking with you in mind, Russell Draderson. Just in case after all of the rambling, you didn’t catch that clue.

Yours truly,

Mr. Scarland Draderson

Russell felt an invisible weight lift off of his heart and his mind.

Even after all these years of looking into his grandfather’s navigational and exploratory accomplishments, he never really did get to fully understand him. He was a busy man. Even in death, apparently. He still remembered the funeral as a child clearly. Gone at the age of seventy-three, but not without a trail of archeological glory.

That same blood for discovery coursed within him as well. And there was no denying it. Nor escaping it.

The treasure wasn’t his grandfather’s gift to him.

It was an invitation into fully realizing his uncontrollable knack for finding them.