by Jan Thompson
“Yeah. Glad you asked. I almost forgot. Some woman who had lived there by herself for many years. She just up and died one day, and that was that. I’m not sure what the cause of death was, but the cabin was locked from the inside, and there were no signs of break-ins. According to my contacts.”
“How sad.” Jake determined that he did not want to die alone, if at all possible.
“Well, I’m putting in an offer for this cottage right here,” Earl declared.
“Must cost some serious money to buy that view.”
“Yeah.” Earl pointed to the camera. “I couldn’t do this if I were still back at the CIA, you know?”
Jake agreed with him, but he also knew it was a matter of perspective. “Well, serving the country is a different mindset. I’m all over the place all the time. If I bought a beach house, I’ll probably wouldn’t see it most of the year.”
“True.”
“Someday, when I don’t travel as much, I’d love to settle down in a house like that.”
“Settle down? Did I hear you right?” Earl laughed.
“I meant, stay put in one city.” It was too late to correct what he had said. “Isn’t it obvious that I can’t do this forever?”
“Maybe you got fired because it’s God’s way of telling you to move on already.”
“I don’t know.” Jake wondered whether he would have been able to get that close to Beatrice if he were still in the FBI.
Maybe not that close. He would have crossed the line with his feelings for her.
His strong, unshakable feelings for her.
He missed her every day he did not see her. Like today. And it was only morning.
Is this real, Lord? Am I in love?
After lunch, Jake was scheduled to head back to the lab, but Beatrice might not be there. Kenichi had said she was supposed to have a long budget meeting with Benjamin. When Jake found out that he wouldn’t see her all day, he felt bereft.
Bereft?
Yes, bereft.
That said everything.
Chapter Thirty-Five
On their third day in Charleston, there were good news and bad news.
The golden key search yielded no known matching door anywhere in Europe and the United Kingdom. Beatrice ran more searches on old doors in North America, but the probability of a specific medieval door showing up in the USA was nil—not the one guarding the particular treasures they sought.
All attention turned to the postcard, not in its original form. The circuit board was supposed to be Kenichi’s department, so all eyes were on him.
Not all eyes.
Beatrice kept glancing back at the door to the lab. Where on earth was Jake? Did he want to be in on this or not?
She started to lose track of what Kenichi said. He was in a conversation with Benjamin, who had joined their meeting on audio only.
Raynelle had opted to sit out of this meeting when she discovered that Benjamin was attending. While Beatrice wished that those two would get along, she also knew that she couldn’t make them like each other. They were adults.
They were all a team, though. If not for Beatrice, Raynelle would have quit on account of Benjamin.
The door finally opened.
“Sorry I’m late.” Jake held three small paper sacks in his hands. He handed one to Beatrice. “Something for you.”
“What is it?” Beatrice unrolled the top and peeked inside. “Pralines?”
“Pecan brittles. My Uber driver told me about this shop filled with local goodies. I thought I’d get you some and hope you’re not allergic to pecans.” He walked slowly to Kenichi and gave him one of the other sacks. “For you.”
“Thank you.” Kenichi put it next to his laptop by the circuit board. “Actually we’re not supposed to eat in here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I already had a whole bag on the way here.” Jake chuckled. “It was so delicious that I had the Uber driver take me back there so I could get you all your own brittles.”
“And thus end up being late to an all-important meeting,” Kenichi said.
“Which looks like it’s happening a mile a minute,” Jake shot back. “Where’s Raynelle? I got her some brittles too.”
“She’s out jogging.” No, Beatrice was not jealous at Jake’s generosity. If Raynelle didn’t want all that sugar, Beatrice would be happy to eat them for her.
“Okay.” Jake put the bag on the table next to Beatrice. “What did I miss?”
“The old key is probably a red herring,” Beatrice said. “Ken’s still figuring out the circuit board—and obviously frustrated. My brother’s searching for the two-amber brooch.”
“Your brother? Will he attend this meeting?” Jake asked.
“He’s here,” Beatrice said. “Ben?”
“Yes?” Benjamin’s voice came through the speakerphone.
Beatrice knew that Benjamin could see them because of well-placed cameras in the meeting room, but they could not see him.
“Ben, meet Jake. Jake, the best brother in the world, my Ben.”
“Hi, Ben.” Jake even waved his hand. “Sorry I didn’t get you some brittles too.”
On audio, Benjamin grunted half a greeting of some sort.
Sometimes Beatrice wondered why it pained Benjamin to say full words. There were times when he’d grunt out a ‘y’ vowel sound instead of saying a full “yes.” How hard would it be to say a one-syllable word?
“Ben, how much longer would it take to extrapolate the location of the of the amber panels with just two brooches?” Beatrice asked.
“Hard to say. You know that the brooches may not lead to the rest of the Amber Room at all.”
Beatrice nodded. “Yeah. It could be a dead end.”
Kenichi threw up his hands. “I have nothing here.”
“If Dad left the circuit board for us to find, then he would expect us to figure it out,” Beatrice said.
“How did he know we’d be at the cabin?” Jake asked.
“Let’s back up a bit,” Benjamin said. “We’re assuming he’s still alive. For all we know, Philomena might have left the leather pouch under the table.”
“True,” Beatrice said. “Anyone could have found the pouch. Molyneux’s people were all over the place before they took us there. What if they planted the pouch to throw us off course?”
“It’s not a tracker,” Kenichi said of the circuit board. “That, we know.”
“Well, you two have been working on these for three days,” Beatrice said. “Why don’t you swap? Let Kenichi take a crack at the brooch box—while he’s still waiting for a signal on the fake one—and you see what you can do with the circuit board.”
“Good idea.” Kenichi stretched his arms. “Make Ben come down to the lab.”
“I’ll send a courier to bring the board to me,” Benjamin said. “I have a lab here.”
No one could make Benjamin leave the house.
“I’ll bring it,” Beatrice said.
“Come alone.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. Did Benjamin think she was going to bring Jake?
“I have a better idea. Why don’t I go?” Kenichi said. “I’ll help him set this up. Then I’ll bring back the brooches.”
“The brooches are not in the safe?” Jake asked.
Beatrice studied his face. Was he expecting to be informed before the brooches were moved?
Jake seemed to be waiting for an explanation.
Beatrice reached for his hand. “I’m sorry. We were so busy yesterday it slipped my mind. I didn’t want to call you or text you while you were napping and resting. And then we got busy and I forgot all about it. Forgive me?”
“Always,” he whispered. He still held her hand.
Always? Did he mean that? Beatrice wondered if he could truly forgive her no matter what she did.
On audio, Benjamin cleared his throat. “Something going on between you two?”
Beatrice blushed.
A lot more could be going on between us two.
Chapter Thirty-Six
With the brooches safely returned to within his reach, Jake felt better about it. He had forgiven Beatrice for not letting him know that the brooches had left the lab safe because she seemed to have simply forgotten.
Still, he had stayed at the Glynn Research offices after lunch and into the late afternoon, although he should be resting his thigh. He had to keep an eye on things. Other than that, he felt a bit useless.
“We seem to have more questions but fewer answers.” Beatrice stared at the two brooches on the table. “We are missing a third brooch, and we don’t have the box—or tray, more likely—that the brooches originally came in.”
“And we are nowhere near finding what remains of the Amber Room,” Kenichi said. “I think it’s time for dinner.”
With that declaration, Jake was happy to take a short break. Beatrice looked worn out. It wasn’t just because her bare face was without any make up. She genuinely looked exhausted.
“Have you had a break in three days?” Jake brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“Break?” Kenichi laughed. “She hasn’t slept in three days.”
Jake’s jaw dropped. No wonder she had forgotten things. “Why?”
“Why? Because she worked, is all. What have you been doing the last three days?”
As Kenichi spoke, Beatrice padded out of the lab. Outside the lab, staffers walked to and fro from the other labs up and down the hallway.
Jake followed her, counting the number of people around them. “Anything I can do for you?”
She waved him off. “I have a bad headache right now.”
Kenichi came out of the lab. “I’m ordering takeout from the Chinese place. The usual?”
“Yeah.” Beatrice kicked off her shoes and climbed on a sofa in a corner sitting area. “Just put mine in the fridge.”
Jake sat across from the coffee table, empty except for someone’s tablet that had been left there.
“What would you like?” Kenichi limped on his crutches toward Jake. “Chinese takeout but they also have sushi.”
“Do they have shrimp and walnut?” Jake wondered how Kenichi was going to drive with a broken leg.
“They all do.”
“That’s what I want then. Plus two egg rolls. No soup. And brown rice instead of white.” He fished for his wallet. “Why don’t I pay for everyone?”
“No need. We’re on company time.”
“Are they delivering?”
“Yeah, I don’t have time to go pick up. Plus I can’t drive for a while.”
“Is it safe to have it delivered?”
Kenichi wagged a finger at him. “You’re even more paranoid than I am.”
“I don’t want people coming here knocking on doors with those two brooches lying around.”
“Speaking of which…” Kenichi turned to Beatrice, who was dozing off. “Bee, you need to take the brooches and put them back in the safe.”
Beatrice groaned.
“I thought we were studying them,” Jake said.
“I’ve been bashing my head against an amber wall. I need a break.” Kenichi hobbled back to the lab, and emerged with the two brooches, which he carried in his shirt pocket. He put the brooches on the coffee table in front of Beatrice.
“Make sure she puts them in the safe.” Kenichi limped away.
The brooches looked ordinary and older than the rustic coffee table. For all they knew, the jewelry might not be worth anything at all.
Perhaps it had been a ruse.
“How do we know they’re even authentic?” Jake asked no one.
“My brother analyzed them.” Beatrice’s eyes opened. “Nineteenth century.”
“Predating World War II.”
“Yep. Someone took the brooches and turned them into what we think is a map—or at least a locator.”
“Your father?”
“I don’t know.” She sat up slowly and put on her shoes. She picked up the brooches. “Would you like to see the safe?”
Jake nodded. Wouldn’t hurt.
“Thank you for trusting us.” Beatrice led him down a stark hallway.
At the end of the hallway, a nondescript door opened to a cluttered office. It was small and cramped. On the walls were digital maps with pins everywhere, one map per continent, except Antarctica.
“All the places you’ve been?” Jake asked, leaving the door behind him ajar to give them both some privacy and so that nobody could say they were too alone in the room by themselves—if there was such a thing as being too alone together.
“All the places stolen World War II artwork might have been stashed.” Beatrice had unlocked the safe while Jake was distracted by the maps.
“It’s a noble cause.” Jake wasn’t happy with himself for not paying attention to what Beatrice was doing.
“Someone has to deal with it.” Beatrice placed the two brooches in the safe.
“Why?”
“Why not?” Beatrice locked the safe. “Before Dad got sidetracked hunting for the Amber Room, he help his many Jewish friends look for lost family heirlooms.”
“So you’re continuing his legacy.”
“The good side.” Beatrice’s voice was quiet, perhaps tinged with shame.
Jake wondered what he could say. “We’re not our parents. The skeletons in their closets are theirs, not ours.”
Beatrice nodded. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“Their penances are not ours,” Jake emphasized.
Beatrice led the way toward the office door. “Easy for you to say because your parents are normal. And biological.”
Jake chuckled. “Imagine if your biological parents were nefarious and irreformable criminals of the war crimes kind.”
Beatrice stopped. Turned toward Jake. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” Jake was reaching for her hand.
“Trying to make me feel better? Some things will always hurt, you know.”
She had a point there, but Jake wanted to keep trying. “I don’t mean to suggest that you look for your biological parents to see what kind of people they are.”
“Oh, they could be worse than Dad…and Mom.” Her voice tapered off, as if calling Molyneux “Mom” was to commit an unpardonable sin.
“Just to know, though? Maybe to avoid genetic illnesses.” Jake heard something from outside the door, but he ignored it. It could be unfamiliar sounds to him because he had never been in this building before.
Beatrice tilted her head. “Are you trying to distract me from my current quest?”
She didn’t seem to have noticed the sound of potential scuffling out there. Maybe it was an echo. Maybe Jake was hearing things.
“I was just saying.” Jake shook his head. Yep, he was hearing things. “Maybe you won’t feel bad about your adoptive family if you also knew about your biological heritage.”
“I’ll think about it later.”
Jake let the matter drop.
They were about to leave the office when Jake heard more scuffles. A thud on the cement floor out there. Then another.
They were all distant, as if coming from television speakers in another room.
Jake tried to remember the layout of the laboratory. There was a font office somewhere. Then double doors with key cards to the cavernous lab space.
This office seemed to be at the far back end of the building.
A muffled shout put Jake on high alert.
Instantly his arm was out in front of Beatrice, preventing her from touching the door. He closed it. Locked it.
“Stand back,” he whispered.
Beatrice’s phone flashed red. “Lockdown.”
Jake nodded, wishing he had more than a Sig Sauer with him.
Beatrice sat down at the desk and logged in to her desktop computer. She pointed to the screen. “Intruders. Why didn’t the alarm go off?”
Jake went around the table to find five or six security screens showing armored people in oxyg
en masks sweeping through the entire building.
“Where’s my security?” Beatrice mumbled, clicking buttons.
The cameras outside the building showed a carnage of staff members on the floor, passed out or dead. The computer showed a high level of carbon dioxide in the front office.
“Did they pump carbon dioxide into the building?” Jake asked.
“We can still breathe, so I’m guessing they did it just enough to get through the security.”
Beatrice’s phone flashed again. She picked it up. “Ben, we’re under attack.”
Jake was close enough to hear Benjamin say, “I know. Ansel is on his way.”
Whoever Ansel was.
“Ansel is our chief of security. He works from the house.” Beatrice pulled open a desk drawer. Inside was a small Glock.
Jake thought that was not nearly enough.
“Where’s Ray?” Beatrice was back at her desktop, viewing the various security points. “Okay, I found them. Ray’s in the break room. Ken is… There. He’s in the bathroom downstairs.”
Beatrice texted Ken and spoke as she did so. “Stay there. Ansel is on his way.”
Jake’s mind was elsewhere. Would the door hold? “Is that a fire door?”
Beatrice nodded. She clicked on something, and a far wall where there was no map slid open, revealing a secret closet—
And a cache of weapons.
“What in the world?” Jake asked, walking toward it.
Beatrice was right behind him. “We need oxygen masks. If you want something bigger than your Sig, take your pick.”
Assault weapons, semi-automatic, several Israeli products…
“Take my pick?” Jake’s jaw dropped. “You know how to use all these?”
“You can blame my brother. He thinks of everything.” She pointed. “See there. Hazmat suits. Over here, vials of antiviral medicine. I told him he was nuts, but now I’m glad we have spare oxygen tanks, aren’t you?”
Jake nodded.
“We have to get out of this alive, or Molyneux wins.”
“We’re assuming it’s her people out there.”
“I assume nothing, but I’m wondering how she knows we’re here,” Beatrice said. “We should have scanned ourselves for trackers.”
