Treasure

by K. T. Tomb

  The building that had housed Tony’s FBI-issued apartment had been burnt black. Granted, it had never been the most attractive one on the street; with its harsh, brick red exteriors and tiny, old fashioned street facing balconies, but there was so much soot covering the walls that one could not see that it had ever been red before. The second floor, where Tony had lived, had been completely gutted by the fire; the rest of the safe house was destroyed as well.

  When Oscar saw what was facing them, he sent up a prayer to heaven despite his belief in the wonders of technology. Dear Lord, what had gone down here? And where was everyone? The site was completely deserted. There were no cars, no yellow police tape or even pesky journalists who lived for such moments.

  Oscar’s heart sped up as he and Sirita reached for the door and stepped inside. He didn’t know what to expect, but he wasn’t prepared for the horror that faced him. Everything in the building was charred. It looked as if a fiery tornado had toppled the office over before having its flames consume the victims. Chairs and tables were broken and blackened, as was stray stationary on the ground. The cupboards were opened and distorted, and black paper was sticking to many melted frames.

  “Oscar!” Sirita called to him from the back of the mayhem, right where Tony’s bedroom had been. He ran to see what she was pointing at, and what he saw didn’t get his hopes up. Tony’s bedroom and his little office looked like an old, abandoned and destroyed space. His burnt coat lay in the middle of the pandemonium, but he was nowhere to be seen. That could very well have been a good thing or a bad one; a very, very bad one.

  His table and chair had been toppled over, and his couch had been shredded. The shelves holding all his art and artifacts were bare, and all his cupboards and drawers were empty of their contents. Oscar guessed most of them were burnt and now scattered on the floor, but he also knew that what he saw thrown there was none of the important stuff. He could have said this was an accidental fire, but he was no fool.

  “This was intentional. The place was literally bombed,” he stated, both scared and calm at the same time. It made all the more sense now, why Tony had disappeared. Good Lord, where was he?

  “What?” Sirita was glued to her place.

  “The place was ransacked before being set on fire. Look, all the artifacts from the case are gone, and I’m guessing the files that accompanied them. Somebody did this on purpose and burned everything else.”

  Realization dawned on Oscar and Sirita at the same time. Whoever did this was no one friendly, and if he or she had all the information, it meant that Chyna was in potential danger.

  “Sirita, we’ve got to go. Right now!”

  Oscar knew he had some calls to make. He could do that on the way back to the airport.

  ***

  Dresden Frauenkirche stood tall in the town of Dresden, the capital of Saxony. As Chyna and Mark’s car neared the church, she thought of the beautiful skyline of the city that she had been so mesmerized with when passing through Germany once, many years ago.

  Dresden was built in the 11th century following Roman architectural patterns, but the main Baroque church was built in the early seventeen hundreds by George Bahr, who died before it could be completed. Earlier built as a Lutheran parish church, the structure had undergone years of remodeling before finally being baptized as a Protestant one. Many of the church’s features attested to that; for example the altar, pulpit and the baptismal font were built in the front so they could be in the view of the congregation.

  One of its most distinctive features was the ninety-six meters high and twelve thousand tons heavy sandstone dome that stood the test of time and wars until it came down during the bombing of Saxony by Anglo-American allied forces during the Second World War. Only the altar, a relief description of Jesus’ agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, and the chancel behind it survived. The church then lay dormant for more than forty-five years before it was restored to its former glory as Communist rule enveloped Germany. One of the reasons for the delay was the tensions that ensued before the demolition of the Berlin Wall that divided East and West Germany.

  As Chyna drove, she remembered the time when she had last walked through the halls of the huge and beautiful structure that she was approaching. Times had been different then, and she had had much better company.

  Instinctively, she looked over to Mark, who was in the passenger seat with a bandage on his head. Chyna guessed she had been a little more than forceful while confronting him, and in the process had hurt him considerably. Her Finnish companion was now bent over Ethan Vitrak’s diary, frowning at something time and again and turning the pages. Chyna felt ready to drop from exhaustion. She had been driving for two days with not much rest, and was still waiting for an answer from Oscar. Her phone had lost connection long ago, and she had immediately switched to her secure satellite-enabled mobile which she knew her investigators would call her on once they couldn’t get through on her regular line.

  Mark had suggested that he do some of the driving, but Chyna had refused. She had decided that she had let Mark into the fold too soon and because of his connection to Thyri Ragnarsson, whom Chyna respected immensely, she had let down her guard with him. Even Oscar, who had been with Chyna and Found History since shortly after her father had died, never drove Chyna anywhere.

  Enough was enough, she had told herself.

  “What is it?” she asked him, as he frowned yet again and clicked his tongue.

  “Pull over for a minute, please,” Mark said, and Chyna parked the car a little away from the main square. “Look at this. I think it’s a riddle. It has no place whatsoever in this diary, and I’ve been going over and over it. There are no references to this particular phrase anywhere. I think Ethan didn’t want to disclose the exact location of the bow, so he put it in a riddle.”

  Chyna took the almost burnt book from Mark to see what he had been pointing at. Sure enough, at the bottom of the earmarked page were six words.

  Take your aim. God protects it.

  Memories of her time in the church came back to Chyna, and when she put her hand on the wheel again, she knew exactly where she was headed. It had taken less than a minute to solve this puzzle, and she knew why Ethan had worded it that way.

  It could only be solved by someone who had visited the place.

  ***

  “Chyna?” Mark asked from beside her. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s at the altar, or somewhere around it,” Chyna explained to him, even though she did not want to. Mark might be a mole, but right now, she was all alone and he was her best bet for surviving if things went south.

  “The altar?”

  “Yes. The last time I came here, I found out that most of this church was destroyed in the bombings of Saxony during the Second World War. The only structures that survived were the altar and the chancel behind it. Like all places, this one too acquired its own rumors. Many believe that because the altar had a depiction of Jesus’ agony on it, God protected it. Do you get it now?”

  By this time, both of them had reached the altar, and Chyna was already looking around for clues.

  “Take your aim. God protects it… you think the bow is here.”

  It wasn’t a question. Mark did not waste any more time and joined her in her search, only to be interrupted minutes later. Chyna called out to him, and he turned to find her bent over the depiction.

  “Look at this. It’s askew.”

  Chyna pointed toward the depiction. Sure enough, the statue of Jesus Christ was turned a little away from the light, nothing that could be noticed from a distance. Without wasting a moment, Chyna pushed with all her might, and placed the statue in its right position. There was a loud sound of a rock moving, and in the next moment, as a trapdoor collapsed to the ground, she realized that the statue was actually a secret gateway leading down to a path that she could see was lit with lamps.

  “This just keeps on getting better and better,” Chyna grumbled, and Mark chuckled a little.


  “I guess it’s a lost cause trying to tell you to stay out here while I investigate?” he asked Chyna, and if looks could kill, Mark would be six feet under the ground right about then.

  “Look at you. You’re injured. You’re bound to screw this up more than I am,” Chyna stepped through the passage. “I guess it’s your turn to prove to me. Come on.”

  She reached out for one of the lamps while Mark closed the door. Both of them heard the statue move into place above and prayed that it wouldn’t alarm whoever was down here. It was only when they were trapped inside the closed space that they heard something distinctive.

  Chanting.

  Exchanging confused looks, Chyna and Mark moved down the hallway, passing lamps which were placed intermittently along the walls to light the way. If their footsteps had been making any sound, they were drowned out by the chants and noises that grew consistently louder as they approached what seemed to be a break in the long, cylindrical passage.

  Chyna focused a little more into the space and saw slivers of orange light filtering through at the other end where there was a wooden door. Two lamps flanked the entrance, which had an old, medieval-style knocker and a slot that could open to reveal what was on the other side. She guessed that the chanting was coming from behind the door, and more probably than not, a ritual was in progress.

  Before they knew it, Chyna and Mark had reached the door, and they were both almost afraid of reaching for the handle in the slot to slide it open and see what was going on. Nevertheless, she took a deep cleansing breath, handed her lamp to Mark, reached for the handle of the peep slot and slid it open just a little to give herself a view of the interior.

  Masons!

  Chyna gasped, looking at the telltale robes and the symbols covering them. She and Mark were standing only a few feet away from the proceedings of a Masonic ritual. As uncharacteristic as it was for her, fear flooded her anatomy. Damn it, she wished she had more backup.

  She couldn’t see the faces of the people in the robes. Chyna focused, and much to Mark’s protests, slid it open a bit more. The people inside seemed to be gathered around something in the center, chanting consistently in a monotone voice and a foreign language. The robes had hoods and long sleeves that covered them, and she cursed at not being able to see more than she could. Then, the sea of people parted and formed a large, spacious circle around the object of cynosure. Chyna’s eyes went as wide as saucers when she saw what it was.

  The Ivory Bow was real after all, and it was right in the middle of a group of Masons who were worshipping it as one would a god.

  “It’s there. I see it,” she whispered and felt Mark come closer to her.

  “What, the bow?”

  “Yeah, they’re in the middle of some ritual, going around it and—”

  When Chyna abruptly stopped speaking, Mark knew then that his initial fears had gained some basis. There was something seriously wrong with the whole situation and Mark had been sensing it right from the beginning, but Chyna’s deafening silence coupled with the chants coming from the other side of the door only validated it.

  “Chyna? Chyna?” Mark shook her, “What is it?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she just backed away from the door, looking paler and sicker than he had ever seen her, motioning for him to look through the slot she had been watching the proceedings through.

  Befuddled and scared, Mark peeped through the opening to see what had suddenly dumbfounded Chyna. He thought he had found it in the center of the room, all white and regal, until he looked at what—or rather who—was directly behind it.

  The masons were still chanting, but their hoods had come off, and right behind the bow, taking center stage in the entire ritual was that ugly, one-eyed man that they had encountered in Vilnius; the one who had been leading the party that had been beating Emilijus up in Lithuania.

  Chapter Five

  “What do we do now?”

  Mark’s voice resounded in Chyna’s ears. His question was clear and straightforward, but she did not have an answer for it. The odds were not in their favor. The room inside was full of Masons; at least fifteen members—including that one-eyed giant—who Chyna was sure would go to any lengths to protect their secret and whatever had been entrusted to them. Chyna and Mark were a small, partially disabled team.

  “We can steal it.” Chyna shrugged.

  “What? Are you crazy?” Mark’s eyes widened, and Chyna—very inappropriately—thought that it was funny. It wasn’t like she hadn’t stolen before.

  “Of course not, but what else can we do? They’re Masons and they’ve been protecting the bow for years. We’re only two people, and need I remind you about your head?” Chyna argued, keeping in mind not to get too loud to attract attention.

  Mark chose not to answer her but just kept staring in her direction. He alternated between looking at Chyna and the Masons inside for quite some time, as if debating the best course of action. His musings, however, were interrupted by an abrupt silence.

  Suddenly, all the chanting in the room had stopped, and such deathly silence filled the cave, it could have made the crackling of fire sound like the breaking of bones. Mark pulled Chyna next to him and out of the line of sight of the slot in the door, and they both waited with bated breath. They wanted to slide the slot back into place to close it again, but were afraid that it would make too much noise and attract attention. It was an old door, after all.

  Then, both heard a murmur and shuffling coming from inside the room. Chyna looked at Mark in confusion, and at great risk, leaned just a little to peep into the open slot and look inside. When she saw that the Masons were filing out of the room one by one into another adjoining chamber, she realized that this was more than just a random underground ritual. The Dresden Cathedral was housing a potentially vast Masonic lodge beneath it, and that meant that Chyna and Mark’s chances had just gone from bad to worse. There could be thousands of miles of tunnels and passageways like this one, and it wasn’t as if there was anyone outside selling them a ‘Star Map’ of the sites.

  “Okay, here’s the plan.” Mark was next to her, trying to get his fill of the view inside the room. “We steal it.”

  “That’s what I said.” Chyna gave him a dead expression.

  “Yes, but the chances of actually getting away with it weren’t as good then.”

  “As if they have improved now,” she countered.

  “At least now we can sneak in, get the bow and get out of here,” Mark replied, and Chyna agreed that his plan made much more sense. Chyna nodded and tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked.

  “The door.” She gestured toward it. “It’s locked.”

  “Well, good thing you have nice hair then.”

  Mark reached for Chyna’s hair and fished out one of the pins that she had used to secure her long black hair in a twist around her usual pony tail. Though Chyna didn’t want to admit it, she knew it was quick and common thinking on his part.

  Mark leaned into it and fumbled with the door for a few moments, listening for sounds and such from the lock, and before he knew it, they heard a small click. Then, as he put his hand on the knob and turned it, the door swung open without making so much as a sound and they were standing in the doorway, just feet away from the Ivory Bow.

  “Holy shit,” Mark whispered, voicing exactly what Chyna had been thinking.

  There was minimal lighting in the stone room; clearly it had been dug out of the very foundations of the ancient building above them. The only light in the room came from an overhead lamp that shone down in the center, right above the bow, giving it an orange-colored, incandescent hue. Even from near the door, Chyna could see the exquisite handiwork and carvings on it, made so carefully that each crevice appeared as a dark ridge and each surface as smooth as linen. The bow itself was curved like a woman’s body, accentuated more so by the ends that curled like tresses. It had been bolstered on a stand that cradled it like an object of reverence.

  �
�It’s beautiful.” The words escaped Chyna’s mouth inadvertently.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Let’s take it.”

  “Yeah.”

  Both Chyna and Mark approached the bow, as if taking in the majesty of the ivory and the exquisite craftsmanship in one stride. Chyna surveyed the stand from all directions, looking for any catches or booby traps. There seemed to be none. Both of them stared at each other from either side of it.

  “So… we just take it?” Mark asked, and Chyna shrugged.

  “No, you don’t.”

  The voice did not belong to either Chyna or Mark. They both turned to face the direction where it came from, only to see that the one-eyed man was standing in the doorway that he and his company had just gone through. Behind him, was the entire group of Masons.

  The room was so silent that Chyna thought she could hear her heart beating in her chest. Then, all hell broke loose.

  “Run!” Mark screamed, and without thinking, Chyna grabbed the bow and sprinted toward the doorway.

  “Oh, no, you don’t! Get them!” They heard the shouts somewhere behind them, but they didn’t care.

  Their legs took them the same way they had come, back toward the statue. Then Chyna remembered they had closed the trap door on their way in.

  “Mark! Mark!” She could hear the Masons behind them, and they were closing in. “We closed the trap door!”

  She was breathless, and her chest was heaving with pain. She felt weak with exertion.

  That’s what you get for not eating anything, she thought sarcastically.

  “No, we didn’t.” Mark was panting as they finally reached the door. Behind them came shadows and fire. They had only moments. “There’s never a trap door without an out. There’s a lever here.”