The Moon of Masarrah Read online

  “I forgot that black and white photos were the norm when the Moon was discovered,” Adam said. “And since its disappearance, no picture could be taken, hence the digitally enhanced one.”

  Even in the digitally enhanced photograph, the Moon’s exquisite beauty was unmistakable and they all stared at it in awe.

  “It’s beautiful,” Layla breathed. “No wonder those Bedouin chieftains wanted it.”

  “Let’s read the history,” Zaid said and they all leaned in closer as they began to read.

  The Moon of Masarrah, an exquisite pear-shaped diamond weighing 42.23 carats and measuring 31.55 mm x 20.88 mm x 12.29 mm with 39 facets, was discovered in India sometime during the Mughal dynasty. The Moon was graded as naturally colored golden-yellow with red overtones, possessing VS1 clarity. Some gemologists have likened the Moon to the famous Hope and Dresden Green Diamonds in terms of size, clarity and intensity of color. Like the Hope Diamond and others of the same ilk, the Moon has acquired a notorious reputation for leaving a trail of tragedies after its discovery, giving rise to the usual claim that it is cursed. To add to its allure, the Moon, which was last owned by the wealthy House of Al-Khalili in Ghassan, was stolen in 1959, never to be seen again. The present ownership of the Moon remains an intriguing mystery to gemologists worldwide. Today, the Moon is estimated to be worth over ten million British pounds. Some gemologists have speculated that it may be gracing the collection of the Sultan of Brunei, who is said to have one of the largest colored diamond collections in the world. The Sultan, of course, could not be reached for comment.

  “Wow,” Adam whispered. “Ten million pounds. Can you believe a little stone like that is worth so much money?”

  “It’s incredible,” Zaid said. “This book was written over ten years ago, so it may be more valuable now.”

  “I wish we could find it,” Layla said wistfully. “Grandpa would have a very comfortable retirement.”

  “Well, we just have to keep looking for it,” Adam said.

  After returning the tome to the shelf, they sat conversing until Mr. Horani arrived and sought them out in the library. As he hustled out with Hassan and Hakeem, the teenagers hurriedly returned the picture books to the shelves before following behind. As they crossed an aisle, a man carrying a high pile of books which almost covered his face, emerged and collided with Adam. The pile of books wobbled precariously before tumbling to the floor with a loud crash. Zaid was startled to see that the man was Mir, Abbas’s nephew.

  A look of dismay came over Adam’s face when he realized who it was. “Sorry,” he apologized as he stooped down and helped Mir to gather up the fallen books.

  Recognizing them, Mir’s eyes darkened with displeasure. “You seem to make a habit out of this,” he said to Adam as he stalked away with his armful of books.

  “Fancy seeing Mir here,” Layla remarked as they left the library. “I can’t believe the two of you crashed into each other again.”

  “If he watched where he was going, it wouldn’t have happened,” Adam grumbled.

  Back in the Land Cruiser, they found Aunt Hafza snoring gently.

  “Dr. Qazi gave her a shot of medicine,” Mr. Horani told them. “It has made her very drowsy.”

  As Mr. Horani merged into the thick afternoon traffic, he told them that they had one more stop to make before heading home. Shortly after, he pulled up in the parking lot of a shop with a colorful awning and several bicycles displayed in the window.

  “Come with me,” he told them. “This will not take long.”

  They all grinned as Aunt Hafza emitted a particularly discordant snore as they got out of the van. She shifted against the seat but did not wake up as the doors closed. Mr. Horani had left the engine running with the air on, so Zaid knew she would be napping in comfort until they returned. In the shop, they found themselves surrounded by a sea of bicycles of various colors and sizes.

  “Yusuf,” came a hearty cry, as a plump little man wearing a beige robe came trotting up to them.

  After greetings were exchanged, Mr. Horani said, “Wali, these are the children I was telling you about.”

  “Honored to meet you, I am,” Wali smiled widely, showing a crooked row of front teeth. “Ah, you will love the beauties I have for you. Come, come, you must see them.” The teenagers looked at each other, mystified. Mr. Horani beckoned to them and they followed the bouncing Wali as he led them into a room at the back of the shop.

  “Behold,” Wali cried, pointing to four gleaming bicycles, as if he had waved a magic wand and conjured them up.

  “They are for you,” Mr. Horani told the teenagers. “I am leasing them for the duration of your stay. As you can see, two of them have carriers in the back so Hassan and Hakeem can ride with you.”

  The teenagers thanked Mr. Horani in delight, hardly daring to believe how fortunate they were. They examined the bikes in wonder, running their hands over the handlebars and saddles.

  “Can we go for a ride now?” Hakeem hopped excitedly.

  “Yes, can we go please?” Hassan implored.

  “All right, all right,” Mr. Horani laughed. “But only for a few minutes.”

  As they mounted the bikes, Hassan and Hakeem in Adam and Zaid’s carrier seats, Zaid realized that it was the first time he had seen Mr. Horani really laugh.

  Chapter Six:

  During the Storm

  The next two days passed uneventfully as the teenagers continued their meetings in Moss Haven and searched the turret. Monday morning brought dark, overcast skies, an extremely rare occurrence in Midan for that time of the year. The wind was howling eerily outside the house and even the clamor of the seagulls seemed subdued. When Zaid looked out of the turret, he saw dark waves lashing angrily against the cliffs, hissing and foaming against the rocks. He closed the window shut as a strong gust of wind blew into the room.

  On his way to breakfast, he met Mr. Horani in the great hall.

  “There is a storm brewing,” Mr. Horani told him. “You children must stay inside today. It can get dangerous with the lightning.”

  “Okay,” Zaid nodded. He had been looking forward to riding their bikes but it was out of the question now. The bikes had been delivered yesterday evening and were now stored in a shed at the side of the house. The test ride on Friday had only whetted his appetite and he longed to feel the saddle under him and the wind in his face. He grinned when he remembered how excited Hassan and Hakeem had been to ride in the carrier seats.

  By the time Zaid finished his breakfast, the others had still not made an appearance downstairs. When he took his empty dishes into the kitchen, Maymun said, “Zaid, will you please do me a favor and fetch the cucumbers from Abbas. I think he’s forgotten about them and I need to have them for the lunch salad. He won’t be able to bring them over when the storm starts.”

  “Sure, I’ll be happy to,” Zaid said, heading out the back door.

  He met Abbas along the path, carrying the missing cucumbers in a small wicker basket.

  “Monstrous storm coming,” Abbas rumbled in his deep voice, his bushy beard quivering.

  “It sure looks that way,” Zaid said as Abbas turned over the basket to him.

  Maymun thanked Zaid gratefully when he returned with the cucumbers. “You all must stay inside today,” she said. “It won’t be safe outside when the storm comes.”

  “Okay, we will,” Zaid promised. As he headed to the living room, he heard the sound of hammering coming from outside. Curious, he went into the great hall and opened the front door. He saw Luqman mounted on a ladder, nailing strips of wood across the bay windows.

  “What are you doing?” Zaid called out.

  Luqman, his face glistening with sweat, said, “I’m protecting the window panes in case the storm turns out to be a nasty one. Being this close to the bay, high winds sometimes shatter the glass. I guess you children won’t be going
anywhere today.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it,” Zaid said. He could see that the people of Bayan Bay took their storms seriously. In Crescent City, they usually had the mildest of rains, but he guessed being this close to the water was a different scenario altogether.

  “Would you like some help?” Zaid offered.

  “Oh, no, I’m almost done,” Luqman assured him.

  “What about the windows up in the turret?” Zaid asked. “Will they be okay?”

  “Don’t you worry,” Luqman assured him cheerfully. “Those are gale force windows on the upper floors. You’ll be safe in your turret, insha’Allah.”

  The predicted storm arrived just after lunch, accompanied by violent thunderclaps and crackling bolts of lightning. Sheets of rain fell heavily around the house, drumming incessantly against the windows and coursing in rivulets on the ground. The teenagers and twins spent the rest of the day playing board games, reading books and watching the local TV station, which continued to issue dire weather reports. It seemed that the storm was going to last for the better part of the night. Thus, the search for the Moon had to be suspended since Hassan and Hakeem, unable to play with Gul outside, stuck to the teenagers like glue.

  Zaid went up to his room in the early afternoon and stared out of his securely locked window, mesmerized by what the storm had unleashed on the world outside. The bay was a foaming cauldron of billowing waves, dashing against the rocks in a fury. Thunder growled occasionally like a ferocious beast getting ready to spring, while long, jagged slashes of lightning cut across the leaden sky like exotic fireworks. The surrounding area was almost concealed by an eerie blanket of darkness as the rain fell like gushing waterfalls from on high.

  Dinner was a quiet affair. Even the normally rambunctious Hassan and Hakeem were quiet and listless, eating their djedjad – chicken roasted with apricots – without much enthusiasm. Aunt Hafza, who was still battling her flare up of arthritis, stayed in her room. Mr. Horani trekked back and forth to her room to supply her with food and medication. When the teenagers asked if they could visit her, he told them that she was too befuddled at the moment to appreciate their company.

  After the sunset prayer, Mr. Horani went to his study ostensibly to work on his memoirs, while the teenagers and twins settled down for an episode of Jinns of Jeopardy. During a commercial break, Layla went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. Already jumpy from seeing the creepy show, she almost dropped the glass of milk when she heard a scream. It came from the open door of the cellar. Maymun must have gone down for something and injured herself, she thought. Alarmed, she set the glass of milk down on the counter and ran to the door of the cellar. She almost collided with Maymun, who was coming hurriedly up the stairs.

  “Maymun, what happened? Did you hurt yourself?”

  Maymun shook her head as she pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. She was breathing heavily and her hands trembled as she held them over her heart. Worried, Layla sped down the corridor and called out to the others in the living room.

  “One of you go and get Grandpa,” she said. “Something’s happened to Maymun.”

  “I’ll go,” Zaid said and made for Mr. Horani’s study. Moments later, he and Mr. Horani entered the kitchen where the others were gathered around a still shaken Maymun.

  “What’s wrong?’ Mr. Horani asked in concern.

  The housekeeper drew a deep breath and said, “I went down to the cellar to get a jar of jam,” she pointed a trembling finger at the cellar door. “I picked it up from the shelf and turned around to come back upstairs. Then I saw it on the wall beyond. It was such a shock that I dropped the jam on the ground. It made a nasty mess, I’m afraid.”

  “What was on the wall?” Mr. Horani asked with a perplexed look.

  “A picture of…skull…and bones,” Maymun fought for breath.

  The teenagers exchanged alarmed looks. It sounded like one of the posters that Layla had found up in the turret.

  Mr. Horani turned irate eyes on them. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”

  There came a chorus of denials and he announced grimly, “I am going to take a look.”

  “Can we come with you?” Adam asked.

  “Just you and Zaid,” Mr. Horani replied shortly. “Layla, you and Zahra take Maymun to her room and then wait with Hassan and Hakeem in the living room.”

  In the cellar, Mr. Horani and the boys stared up at the picture on the wall. The thin cardboard poster measured about a square foot. It was affixed to the wall at standing height and held in place by strips of clear tape. The skull and crossbones looked especially menacing looming over them. It’s definitely one of the posters that Layla found up in the turret, Zaid thought. He had a sinking sensation in his stomach. Who in the world could have brought it down to the cellar and taped it to the wall? He looked around in bewilderment. Besides the broken jar of jam on the ground, everything else seemed the same. The step ladder was in its usual spot next to the round table and the shelves of groceries were all intact.

  “This is terrible,” Mr. Horani’s forehead knitted into a frown. “I remember seeing a poster like that somewhere.”

  Compelled by his conscience to tell the truth, Adam revealed reluctantly, “We came across a bunch of them in the western turret when we were exploring up there.”

  Mr. Horani looked at them sharply. “Are you sure you did not put that one up there?”

  Adam’s honesty had succeeded in making them prime suspects and Zaid tried not to squirm uncomfortably under Mr. Horani’s penetrating stare.

  “Honestly Grandpa, we didn’t,” Adam said earnestly. “We wouldn’t do something like that.”

  Shaking his head in bafflement, Mr. Horani ripped the poster off the wall and tore it to shreds before turning his gaze to the sticky mess of the broken jar of jam. He sent the youths up for a mop and pail from the laundry room and soon, all that remained of the broken jar of jam was a wet spot on the cellar floor. After the shredded poster had been relegated to the garbage can and the mop and pail returned to their place, Mr. Horani and the youths went into the living room where the girls and twins were waiting in suspense.

  “Did you see it? Did you see it?” Hakeem asked excitedly.

  “Did it look scary?” Hassan asked.

  “Be quiet,” their grandfather said sternly, and the twins lapsed into silence.

  Looking at them all gravely, he said, “As you have heard, and Adam and Zaid have seen, someone taped a picture of a pirate’s flag in the cellar. If it was meant as a joke, then it backfired because Maymun could have died from the shock. I will ask again, did any of you do it?” He looked at each of them in turn and Zaid felt like squirming again.

  Another storm of denials followed and Mr. Horani held up his hand, signaling for quiet.

  “If none of you will claim responsibility, then there is nothing more to be said,” he stated flatly. “I am hoping that the culprit or culprits is feeling extreme regret at such an abominable act directed towards a gentle, hardworking woman who feeds us all. Now, I suggest we all pray and go to bed. We shall see what tomorrow brings, insha’Allah.”

  After Mr. Horani left, Layla asked apprehensively, “Was it one of the posters I found?”

  “Yes,” Adam said unhappily. “I can’t imagine how it got there.”

  Layla looked suspiciously at the twins. “Did you boys have anything to do with this?”

  “We didn’t,” Hakeem said indignantly.

  “I think it was a jinn,” Hassan said in a hushed voice. “I sawed one in our room last night.”

  “What nonsense,” Layla scoffed. “You can’t see jinns…not unless they take the shape of something,” she amended.

  “Well, there was one. I sawed it,” Hassan insisted, pouting. “A great, big jinn going out the door. I told Hakeem about it.”

  “He did,” Hakeem nodded. “And I heard
it the night before in the closet too.”

  “You’ve been watching too much Jinns of Jeopardy,” Zahra quoted her mother and Zaid had to smile.

  “Let’s hear no more about jinns,” Adam said firmly. “You were probably dreaming and thought it was real. And make sure you recite Ayatul Kursi before you sleep, otherwise you’ll have nightmares tonight.”

  It was a miserable group of teenagers who went to bed that night. The storm outside mirrored the one within Zaid as he lay awake, agonizing over the mystery of the poster. He knew that neither Adam nor the girls would have done it. It was not something any of them would do. Could it have been the twins even though they had denied it? They could have found the poster up in the turret and decided that it would be fun to put it in the cellar. It would not have been difficult for them to sneak in and use the stepladder to stick it to the wall. Zaid remained awake for a little longer until he finally fell into a fitful sleep filled with uneasy dreams.

  Chapter Seven:

  A Visit to Ma’ab Manor

  Zaid gazed out the turret window the next morning to see what ravages the deluge had wrought outside. The downpour had subsided in the early hours of the morning, but the evidence left behind of its fury was very subtle. Other than the fresh smell of the air and the uncommon moisture glistening on the jagged bluffs, everything else looked the same. A bright sun shone overhead and the bay was a veritable sea of serenity, with the waves breaking almost languidly against the cliffs, as if exhausted from their frenzy of the day before. A couple of sailboats drifted lazily on the horizon and even the seagulls had resumed their usual clamor.

  Everyone was in low spirits that morning, the incident of the night before casting a pall over them, especially when they went down to breakfast and saw how pale and drawn Maymun looked. It was clear that she had not slept well. There were dark circles under her eyes and lines of fatigue on her face.