To really start this story you'll have to go back about a week to my chance encounter with these two "gentlemen" at the local fair.
(Well, to be honest, you'd probably have to go as far back as Mr. Sonofsky's infancy, when, one can only assume, he was bashed about the head repeatedly by a spoon-wielding harpy and forced to wear frilly dresses until the age of ten. But that's possibly going back too far.)
"You say something?"
"Sorry?"
"Stop mumbling back there. I can't hear myself dig."
"Sorry."
"Yeah, you just hold that thing good and tight until I tell ya different, okay?"
"Right."
That was the aforementioned Mr. Sonofsky and that "thing" he mentioned is Horace, my miniature dragon.
Dragon, you ask. Well, see when I was a lad at university, I was studying genetics, and upon returning from a delightful trip to the Galapagos Islands...
"Boss?"
"What is it Butchie?"
"He's narrating again."
Mr. Sonofsky turned back to me and growled. "I told you, didn't I?"
I shrugged. "Sorry."
"One more 'sorry' outta you and I'll leave you both down here to rot."
Butchie reeled, "what, me too Boss?"
"Nah, Mr. Wizard and Mr. Lizard over there. Keep digging."
Butchie, a man built out of muscle and sinew, raised the pick axe over his head and smashed it into the rock wall. A tumbling of rocks scattered at his feet. One more smash and "clunk."
"Boss! I think I hit something."
The men scrabbled at the loose rock. Mr. Sonofsky knocked against the smooth metal wall beyond. "That's it, Butchie. Well, done." He looked back at me.
"This is the right vault?"
I nodded. "The largest and oldest vault in the bank. I still don't understand why you wanted this one, all the cash is in the upper vaults."
Mr. Sonofsky snickered. "Cash. Nothing but little I.O.U.s. Nah, what we want is what the old families have. Gold and jewels, my friend. Tangible, real and accepted everywhere."
"Gold and jewels," Butchie squealed. He clapped his hands together like a little boy, then started moving the larger stones out of the clearing.
Mr. Sonofsky looked back at me, smiled, then down at Horace, and frowned. Horace, about as big as a German Shepard, with iridescent blue scales and a sweet round face, stared back at the man, eyes glowing yellow.
"That thing ready?"
"Ready?" I asked. "I doubt it has any idea what's going on, let alone 'ready' for anything."
Mr. Sonofsky took off his hat and wiped his brow. "I mean, is it lit? Ready to burn."
"Oh!" I said, understanding. "Horace is always 'lit', as you say. Just let me know when you're ready."
I had been worried that Horace would be uncomfortable in the catacombs. But from the moment of our descent, he jogged along beside me, sniffing and snorting, eyes glowing in the dim light. The dragons of myth may have been made for the skies, but Horace was discovering his nocturnal self, and he was the calmest of all of us.
He purred and rubbed his head against my leg. It's really like having a large, scaly cat.
"Ok Boss," Butchie grunted, heaving the last of the large stones out of the way. "Is that enough room?"
Mr. Sonofsky looked back at me. "Is that enough room?"
I considered the large opening and the thick wall of steel behind it. "Should be fine. Will you both be going through, or just you, Mr. Sonofsky?"
He squinted his eyes at me. "Why?"
"Well, a hole to fit the likes of Butchie here would be considerably larger, and thereby take more time. You, on the other hand, are a slight man," and upon seeing the look on Mr. Sonofsky's face I added "yet powerful, but you need less room to get in."
He considered it, sized up Butchie, then me, then realized how the odds were stacked against any double-cross. Reading the odds wrong, he agreed.
"Fine, just me then. Butchie, I'll hand you the stuff back out the hole. Just keep an eye on the professor here."
"Will do Boss." Butchie glared at me with his simple sweaty face. It was quite sweet.
"Alright," Mr. Sonofsky said, stepping as far back in the cave as he could without actually leaving. "Light her up."
I clicked out of the side of my mouth and led Horace to the wall. Kneeling down beside him, I started rubbing the side of his belly, while holding his muzzle foward, aiming. I whispered in his ear. "Not too much, just a small straight stream of fire." Horace's eye's blazed with light briefly, then a grumble in his throat told me he was ready to burn.
Another thing most people don't realize about real dragons is the relative quietness of their burn-off. It's not the thundering roar of the movie dragons, but a small hiss with a faint hint of sulfur.
I guided Horace's remarkably cool muzzle around the wall in a circle. Then I had a funny thought. "Mr. Sonofsky. I just had a funny thought."
"Oh yeah," he called back, a little shakily. "What's that?"
"Did I mention that Horace wasn't my first dragon? He's actually my eighth. That's why we named him Horace, you see. H being the eighth letter of the alphabet."
Mr. Sonofsky walked forward, staring at the glowing circle in the steel wall. "Really. Great."
I edged the flame around toward the beginning of the cut and rubbed Horace's belly again, slowing down the burn. "Yes, we tried with several types of dragons, all of our ideas coming from myths and legends. Unfortunately, they were long on story and short on biology."
With a loud "plunk" a perfect circle of steel fell back, into the vault. The edges cooled quickly as Butchie splashed water on the metal. Through the steam, you could see the vault shelves beyond and the dim flicker of gold.
And green too. There was a flicker of green, for an instant.
Mr. Sonofsky scuttled forward and peered into the hole. "Of course," I continued, backing away from the area, "it wasn't until Horace here that we realized we were working too big."
"Butchie, will you look at that. There's more gold in there than in Fort Knox. Get the bags ready." He poked his head through the opening and peered around. He came back out, smiled, clapped his hands and stepped back, into the vault.
"We did have one good prospect though," I said, watching Butchie stack bags as Mr. Sonofsky disappeared into the dark interior of the safe. "Emily, her name was. She was a great big red one, of the Chinese variety, you might say. She couldn't fly though and her movement was hindered by a strangely hinged spine."
Mr. Sonofsky turned back and said "will you shut him up" before being engulfed in a ball of green fire.
"But she could flame! Boy, could she ever."
Butchie lunged to the wall calling "Boss! Boss!" He leaned all the way in, trying to see through the smoke. "Boss!" A second ball of green fire lit up the vault and the cave beyond.
"No," I continued, keeping a struggling Horace steady. "She could never fly, poor thing. But she makes a great guard dragon. Well, as long as there's no cash around."
Horace struggled against his leash and wimpered. "Ok, go ahead boy."
I let go of the leash as Horace leapt over the smoking remains of Butchie to see his Mama.