The Secrets of Addleson Pike

Jonathan MacDowell relished the way the old door creaked as it swung inward. The slow, steady sound fit the picture perfectly – along with the musty smell of old wooden shelves, the lonely desk in the center of the room, and, of course, himself, the young American professor who was finally ready to live out his dream at England’s greatest university – Oxford!

“How do you like it, Dr. MacDowell?” asked the man behind him, an older, brown-suited professor with a thick British accent. His name was Ronald Boroughs, and he had offered to show his new co-worker around. Their first stop, the room they were in now was to be MacDowell’s office.

“It’s… it’s…” Jonathan struggled for word that wouldn’t counter his professional side.

“Wonderful, right?” finished Boroughs. Jonathan nodded in dumb silence. Boroughs barked out a laugh. “Yes, of course it is! Very wonderful. You won’t know how wonderful until you hear its story. Come here.”

The younger professor looked up sharply at his tour guide, then walked over to where he was standing, just outside the room. On the brass plate screwed into the door, a name was engraved: ADDLESON W. PIKE.

“The story is not so much about the room as it is about the name. Addleson Pike’s old office has not been occupied for more than sixty years – since 1943, to be exact. But now, you are to be the new professor of Egyptology, and you’ll take Addleson’s place after all this time…” here Professor Boroughs paused for a second, then smiled oddly. “My mind runs away. Come with me to the library, where such discussions are more appropriate.” For a second, Jonathan wanted to laugh – Boroughs was beginning to sound quite superstitious, and superstitions weren’t exactly Jonathan’s style. He prepared to refuse the professor’s offer, then realized it was useless – they would have to stop by the library on their tour anyway. Instead, he smiled.

“Sounds wonderful.”

As the two professors strolled down the hallway, Jonathan drank in the sights and sounds of the university. He loved it! He had known this was where he wanted to teach since his first year studying to be a history professor (specifically, an Egyptology professor). His mentor from college, Professor Lamoreau, had attended Oxford, and it was he that revealed to Jonathan the prestige which Oxford represented. Ever since, to become a professor here had been his dream – and here he was.

At last, the two came to the library – a large, three-story room filled with the aroma of espressos and lattes due to the café next door. The first floor was mostly computers, desks, and tables arranged in pleasant, yet business-like arrays. Boroughs turned to speak to MacDowell.

“Pick yourself a table and sit down,” he invited, “I’ll be back in a snap.” As Boroughs hurried back out of the library, Jonathan went to sit down at one of the tables in the back of the room – fairly big, though there were only two chairs. It was the kind of setting you’d expect to find a good Oxford history professor in, MacDowell decided. He smiled and waited for Boroughs.

Boroughs was, as he promised, “back in a snap”, carrying a steaming latte for his guest and a tea for himself. MacDowell thanked him, and prepared to listen to the rest of Boroughs story, his sudden good mood overbearing any ridicule he felt before. Boroughs slowly sat down across from MacDowell, then pulled up his tea and took a long, warm sip. After setting it down, he proceeded to twirl his mustache for the longest time, then finally sighed and spoke. “You’d better listen carefully; this is important, especially for you.”

Boroughs leaned back and began his tale. “Addleson W. Pike, the name on your door, was the name of Oxford’s last Professor of Egyptology. Sixty years ago, when Pike died, the elective was removed from the curriculum. Now that it’s up and running again, they need a new professor – namely, you. That’s why his office has not been occupied of so long – there was no one who needed the Egyptology professor’s office, so until now, it was used mostly as a back-up office for professors remodeling their own spaces.

“You see, before his days as a professor, Pike was an explorer. His greatest expedition lasted four years. It was in Egypt, and by the time it was over, he had managed to acquire a large sum of treasure. Eventually, he returned to Britain to take a job at Oxford. After a few months, pike was living comfortably in his new position as professor of Egyptology. By now, the whole university and much of the outside community was aware that a very rich professor was living at Oxford University’s history department, and, unfortunately, that included as many bad people as good. It wasn’t long before Pike began to experience break-ins. The first one occurred on May 26, 1942. The culprit made a mess, but didn’t find anything, and was caught a few weeks later. Pike shook it off as a freak event at first, but it was only a month later – June 21st – a second break-in occurred. This one got away with an Italian-make compass of sentimental value to Pike. At this point Pike began to get angry, but he still did nothing drastic. Well, three weeks later, there was another break-in, and Pike finally hired a guard, yet word of Pike’s riches had spread so far, that the guard himself used his position to get him and some partners inside to rob the place themselves. They took almost six thousand dollars in assets, yet saw none of the Egyptian treasure. Now Pike was enraged. He decided it was time for something serious.

“He hired a private construction crew and gathered his money for a huge operation – a tunnel. Pike was going to dig a tunnel under his house for his treasures. The operation took months. While it was going on, he made sure he had at least three personally interviewed guards on the premises at all times. At last, in March of ’43, it was finished. Pike loaded the treasures into the tunnel personally, dismissing the entire crew. In fact, no one but Pike saw or touched the treasure as it was prepared to be sealed inside. Pike had decided no one, not even himself, would have the treasure until after he died, and even then, only his legal heir would be able to authorize excavation of the site. The treasure would remain hidden until then.

“On the day they were to seal the tunnel, something happened – Addleson was laying the last of the treasure in its hiding place. The head of the construction crew called out to him, telling him to come back. Addleson didn’t respond. It was as if in that moment, he was having second thoughts – as if he may want to keep his treasure with him after all. The moment’s hesitation was what destroyed him.

“As Addleson paused in the deepest end of the tunnel, the crew outside began to hear a rumbling. Something wasn’t right. Frantically, the foreman urged Pike to come out. There was still no reply. At last, the rumbling turned to shaking. Addleson was still inside. The foreman knew time was up; he pushed his men away from the tunnel as three months work caved in on itself. Addleson Pike was never seen again.”

MacDowell sat on the edge of his seat, staring at Boroughs. The tale had pulled him in like a feather in a whirlpool. A vast Egyptian treasure buried right here in Oxford? The suggestion was enormous.

“What happened?” he cried “Why didn’t they try to rescue Pike – or even find the treasure?!”

“They did,” Boroughs said, “but after a week of fruitless digging in which another man almost lost his life, they knew they had to stop. As for the treasure, Addleson’s will said that the only person allowed to excavate the site for the treasure was his heir.”

“So why did the heir not step forward?”

“Because their was no heir… until now.” Now MacDowell was completely enthralled. Boroughs continued, “Addleson Pike had no close family, so in his will he said that his heir would be whoever took over his position when he died – Egypt’s next Professor of Egyptology – you.”

Jonathan could do nothing but stare blankly at Professor Boroughs.

***

The home of Addleson Pike was surprisingly simple for one so rich – sure, it had a good-sized yard for central Oxford, and it must have been nearly new when Pike bought it, but it was no mansion.

Those were Jonathan MacDowell’s thoughts as he sat outside the home surrounded by police cars, fire engines, loads of reporters, and of course, a large construction digger. One of Pike’s original crew had shown them the exact spot the tunnel ended – where they should be able to dig right down onto the treasure. It was kind of a shame to have to dig up the place, MacDowell thought, but if the treasure was as great as MacDowell had heard in the weeks of heavy research he had done during the legal proceedings to assure he was heir, then the historical community couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Besides, the house was his too, now – he could fix it up nicely after all the treasure was sold to museums. He stared calmly as the digger lifted a second mound of soil from the ground. A dark-haired reporter came rushing up to him, her white breath evaporating in small puffs. As she bagan to ask him questions, he was forced to turn his attention away from the commotion.

Three hours had passed since their first arrival on the site – it was now early afternoon. MacDowell was standing on the back porch of the house when a cry came up from those closer to the hole. He rushed over to see what they were looking at. The deep layers of earth had given way to a cavern about a hundred feet deep and too dark to see anything.

“Get the cables! We’re going in!” said the foreman.

“No,” Jonathan interrupted, “I want to go in alone first.”

The harness was secured to Jonathan’s body and the cables were attached to a crane. Reporters scrambled as close to the hole as they could as MacDowell was lowered downward. In his right hand he held an unlit lantern that he would use once he was all the way down. In a moment, his feet touched the floor. In a moment, his feet touched the floor. He tugged the rope, asking for some slack and prepared to walk around. He stood up and flicked the switch on the lantern. What he saw shocked him.

The tunnel was empty.

Jonathan was at a loss for words. How could anyone have done this? To excavate a site in an urban area and empty it without anyone ever knowing? It made do sense! Worst of all, it could’ve happened years ago, and the looters could be long gone. Jonathan was getting ready to shout the news through his clogged throat to the mystified onlookers, when something in a small corner of the cavern caught his eye: a skeleton. Jonathan gasped in pure shock. He knew what he had found – the body of Addleson Pike. His breathing deepened as he observed the body; something tragic had happened here. Then he noticed it; beside the right hand of Addleson Pike was a book. Gingerly, Jonathan picked it up. The cover read, The Secrets of Addleson Pike.

Pike’s memoirs, Jonathan thought. He paused for a second before tugging the cable attached to his harness. The onlookers began pulling him up.

***

“So let me get this straight,” said Boroughs, as he spoke with MacDowell a few days later. They were at the same table in the library, sipping lattes once again. “You found nothing? Oh, I still wish I could’ve been there!”

“I do too, but your students needed you,” MacDowell told his friend. “That, and you’re not completely right about finding nothing.” Here MacDowell took out the memoirs he found in the tunnel. “There is something on the last page – I believe it will answer a lot of questions.”

Boroughs took the book and opened it to the marked page. It read as follows:

“To my heir, whoever you may be –

I know you are down here to search for a treasure, but you will not find it. This may surprise you, so I have taken these pages to explain. On April 19, 1939, I began an expedition in Egypt. Through careful research and presice analysis, my men and I were able to find the tomb of a minor ruler from 1400 BC Egypt. It was loaded with riches. Our last year on the trip consisted mostly of dealing with officials of the Egyptian government – we wanted the treasure to be given to museums around the world. At last they consented and sold the treasure to other nations.

When it was over, I decided to return to England. I managed to secure a job at Oxford University as professor of Egyptology. I wasn’t aware of the rumors that I still had the treasure until someone broke into my home one day in May of ’42. I was furious, and tried to squelch the rumors, but to no avail. Then there was another break-ins: this time they got they got the Italian compass my father had given me when he left to serve in the First World War. As more attempts to stop the rumors failed, I hired a guard. He ended up robbing me as well. I was completely at a loss when it happened…

I had a fiancé - her name was Anna Christiansen. Neither of us had any close family, so no one knew our plans. She wanted to get married as soon as possible. I wanted too as well, but I told her to wait for the burglaries to stop so that our life together would not begin so roughly. That night there was a storm, and lightening struck her house. It burned to the ground before she even woke.

Without Anna, I had nothing to live for. A plan began to form in my mind, and I decided the robberies might work out well after all. I began to build a tunnel, using the treasure as a cover-up. When it was ready, I dismissed the crew, saying that I wanted to lay the treasure down myself, but I did not spend the week laying treasure – I spent it laying dynamite. This tunnel was not made to be a treaure trove – it was made to be a tomb.

Today is the day. I can hear the foreman calling to me as we speak. I must stop soon; my light is growing dim in more ways than one.

The fuses are lit. Any second now, I shall see my sweet Anna!