The Crusade for Vengeance

Chapter 1

London, 1955

Rex marshaled all his focus and concentrated on the task ahead of him. Just keep counting, he thought. If I just keep counting I'll get through it. He screwed his eyes shut, clearing his mind of everything else, opened them, and then started counting.

One . . . two . . . three . . .

Focus, he thought. Nothing else is in the room. Beyond the task is a void. All that matters is not stopping the count.

One hundred forty-seven . . . One hundred forty-eight . . . One hundred forty-nine . . .

I'm going to make it, he thought with jubilation. Finally! He could see the end ahead of him. Crawling closer with each passing second.

Three hundred seventy-three. . . three hundred seventy fo-

BANG!

With a shot, the door to the lab burst open and a woman with red hair came striding in, tossing her hat and pocketbook on the table as if she owned the place and marched straight toward him. "Well. You'll never guess who just showed up," Ruby said as she entered the lab.

Rex's hands jumped at the sound of the door. The tiny glass beads he had been counting scattered about in their tray, mixing all together again. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Not again. He had tried counting the beads six times and had yet to finish.

They were alone in a cavernous room filled with tables, shelves, and cabinets. It was one of the many rooms in the bowels of the British Museum. Rex liked it because it was usually quiet and unoccupied with few of the museum staff venturing this far down. He preferred to spend his time with the random pieces of pottery, ceremonial masks, and other various artifacts that were scattered throughout the room rather than with the other staff. Except Ruby of course

Looking over at the excited redhead he couldn't help suppressing a smile. He had known Ruby Tuesday for the better part of a decade and she never failed to surprise him. A war widow after her husband had been shot down during the Battle of Britain, she had been on her own since and had never looked back or allowed anything to impede her. A resolute woman who could dine with high society one night and throw down gin in the alleys of Birmingham the next, and be perfectly at home in either place.

"Well?" she asked, a bit impatient, "Any guesses?"

"You just said I'd never be able to guess," he replied, gathering the beads together again.

"Oh come on, be a sport," she goaded him with a smile.

"I don't know, the Queen of England."

"Ha, you wish." She sat down next to him and put her feet up, rattling the tray of glass beads once more. "What is this you're playing with anyway?"

He glared at her and began sorting the beads again. Rex Fletcher was the Loans Curator for the British Museum. Entrusted to carefully inventory every artifact coming in and out of the massive institution was a sometimes thankless job. Like when he had to ensure that every one of the four hundred and seventy-two tiny glass beads from the Venetian islands of Murano were accounted for and undamaged before they were returned to Venice.

Rex had come to the museum after the war. Originally from Chicago, he had fallen in love with Europe while serving and had chosen to stay once the fighting had ended. Well, he had been agreeable to staying. He still wasn't sure he had much choice in the matter, but it suited him. His actual employer had set up this job and he couldn't complain. And even if he did complain, he doubted his employer would care.

Rex had been a Monuments Man during the war, spending his time ensuring artifacts were not destroyed or stolen while the war was raging around him. Fresh out of college with his Art History degree in one hand and a rifle in the other he was plunged into the biggest war of the modern age. A side task of his group was tracking down the Nazis that had stolen priceless artwork, antiques, and treasures in their looting across Europe. This took considerably longer than the war, finally wrapping up in 1951. Once they had finished, he had been approached by a new organization to keep an eye out for any other art thefts that might occur. It was their goal to continue the work of the Monuments Men, but on a global scale.

"These are Murano beads from the 13th Century. This particular set was the Doge's personal favorite, they were made into rosaries for him, his wife, and their six children. It's been on loan from the Doge's Palace for the past two years as part of our Medieval Christianity exhibit in the East Wing. The craftsmanship is just marvelous, so intricate and detailed." He could see that Ruby was only feigning interest and was dying to tell him her news. "Fine. Who is it then? Who just showed up?" He stared at the beads for a moment and then packed them back into their foam container. Something told him that Ruby wasn't going to give him peace and quiet to count them any time soon.

"Sir Edmund Willougby," she said with a smile.

"Willoughby? What did he want? Other than to chat you up I'm sure." Ruby's love life was a topic of much interest in the museum. Wagers were put on how long a man would last with her before she became bored with him. As stuffy as Willoughby was, he wouldn't last long.

"I'm widowed, I'm not dead," she replied curtly. "And he came to drop off these." Ruby tossed a pair of tickets on the table between them. Rex could see they were for the special exhibit tomorrow night at the Tower of London. The Crown Jewels were making their return. During the war, the Jewels had been stored first in the basement of Windsor Castle and then in a vault at the Bank of England. Now, after the damage to the Tower had received from the bombings had been fixed, they were ready to be reinstated for the world to see.

Rex finished bagging the beads and picked up the tickets with interest. These were a hot item and hard to come by. All of London was still struggling to get back on its feet and return to normalcy. Something symbolic like having the Crown Jewels back in place would be one more step in that direction. Of course with Willoughby being the Director of the Tower of London, he could get as many tickets as he wanted.

"'A Night of Refined Glamour to Welcome Home the Prized Possession of the Royal Family to a New Era of Civility,'" he read off the invitation. "You Brits sure know how to make it sound like you're going to have a good time."

"And you Yanks have all the grace of an injured duck. Are you coming or not? I need to let Edmund know soon so he can put your ticket to good use if you don't want it."

"You sure he wants me to come? We didn't exactly hit it off last time." The last time had been here at the British Museum when Rex had corrected Willoughby's facts when he was regaling Ruby with his knowledge of the Thirty Years' War. Rex hadn't meant to belittle him, but there was no point in telling a historic story unless you got your facts right. Perhaps he had been a little harsh on Willoughby's lack of Hapsburg knowledge.

"Yes, he does," Ruby answered. "He came by to personally give me a ticket for you and implore you to attend. I think he's offering an olive branch."

Rex considered for a moment and then relented. "I'd love to Ruby. The Jewels deserve to be on display and I'm glad they're coming back. Also," he added with a smile, "I wouldn't want to miss the chance to see the honorable and esteemed Sir Edmund Willoughby go weak at the knees every time you look his way."

Ruby threw her head back and laughed. "It's set then. Be there at eight."