A Treasure Deep by Alton Gansky

mothers with
sick children, a homeless man with gauze wrapped around a dirty
hand, and a host of others with ailments Perry couldn’t fathom. He
found the environment unsettling.
    He approached a nurse who sat at a small desk
behind security glass. After identifying himself, he asked to be
informed of the patient’s condition. The nurse nodded and said,
“They’re working on him now. Are you family?”
    “Friend.” He had endangered his life and
performed lifesaving techniques on the man. He also held a package
the old gent was willing to die to protect. As far as Perry was
concerned, that made them friends. He found an open corner of the
waiting room and settled into it. A television mounted to a sturdy
black wall bracket played quietly. On the screen was a well-dressed
young woman touting the millionaire potential of real estate
purchased with no money down. Perry tuned out the infomercial.
    In his hand was the satchel. It was made of
leather that had seen a great many years. Initials had been carved
onto the wide flap that covered the opening. As yet, Perry had not
peered inside and wondered if he should. For all he knew, he could
be holding a package of heroin or counterfeit money. But he doubted
it. The man he had tried to save in the alley didn’t seem the type.
Still, he had to wonder. For what would a man sacrifice his life?
If it were mere money, he would have handed it over to the thief.
No, there was something else in there, something very
important.
    Perry studied the bag some more. It weighed
maybe two pounds. The flap was held in place by a brass buckle. At
one time it must have been an expensive item. Perhaps it still was.
Perry certainly hadn’t seen anything like it. The style and
workmanship suggested that it had been made a lifetime before.
Perhaps it had been handed down from father to son.
    He squeezed the case gently, and it gave
easily. There was nothing hard inside. Trying to appear subtle, he
gave it a little jiggle. Something inside moved but made no noise.
Perry guessed it held paper. That would make sense. A professor
with a bag of papers. Perhaps tests and homework from students?
What didn’t make sense was why he was so agitated when Perry
touched it. And why the attacker wanted it so badly.
    All the questions could be answered by simply
opening the case, but Perry couldn’t bring himself to do it. The
man had entrusted him with it, and Perry would honor that. Of
course, it might be a moot point if the paramedics and doctors
hadn’t been able to get the old man’s heart kick-started again, and
if they couldn’t, what would he do then? He would be forced to turn
it over to the police or family, if he could find them.
    The sliding glass door that led from the
hospital parking lot swooshed open, and a woman with tousled gray
hair hurried in. Her clothing was loose-fitting and disheveled.
Behind her followed another person, a young man Perry judged to be
in his early twenties. He moved with an odd gait: hands motionless
at his side, torso hunched over, head down. He shuffled more than
walked, and he followed no more than two feet behind the woman. He
wore a jogging suit and bedroom slippers.
    Perry watched as they approached the nurse at
her glass-barricaded station. The young man stopped behind her and
leaned his head on her right shoulder.
    Her voice carried as she spoke. “Yes, I’m . .
. I’m Mrs. Henri . . . Claire Henri. Someone called and said my
husband was here.”
    The nurse said something Perry couldn’t
hear.
    Yes,” the woman said. “It’s spelled like
Henry but an i at the end instead of a y.”
    Perry started forward.
    “May I see him? How is he?”
    He stepped next to the distraught woman.
    “Just a moment,” the nurse said. “I’ll
check.” She rose from her chair and disappeared into the back.
    “Mrs. Henri?” Perry said softly.
    She turned at looked at him. “Yes?” There was
anticipation and fear in her voice. She looked him in the eye then
let her