by David Wood
Smiling, she trotted down the corridor, almost wishing someone would try to stop her. She was ready to take somebody else down. She wasn’t that stupid, though, so she proceeded up the stairs with caution.
At the top, she found herself in the middle of a long hallway lined with doors on one side. None were marked.
“How the hell am I supposed to choose?” she whispered. Figuring one was as good as the other, she tried the closest door. It wasn’t locked. She peeked through and found herself staring at a dark figure holding an upraised sword. She gasped and almost slammed the door shut, but just as quickly had to suppress a laugh.
It was a wax figure, a pirate armed with a realistic-looking sword. He loomed over another wax figure posed as a cowering woman. She had discovered the access door to one of the museum’s exhibits. She inferred from the dim lights and empty museum that it was early morning and the place was not yet open. Good!
Only a low rail separated the exhibit from the museum’s viewing area and, across the way, a window beckoned to her. She crept into the exhibit area and closed the door behind her when heavy footsteps sounded in the quiet room only feet from her. She lay down behind the woman on the floor and tried to cram herself into the tiny space behind it. She watched, heart in her throat, as an armed man walked past. He wasn’t a uniformed security guard, and that frightened her even more. She’d take a rent-a-cop over a dude who looked like he could handle himself any day of the week.
He was a tall, muscular man with a shaved head. He wore a pistol on one hip and a knife on the other. He moved with detached ease, as if nothing could harm him, but his eyes were alert. As a fighter, she was always the aggressor, taking the battle to her opponent without fear. That same drive urged her to jump the guy, but common sense prevailed. This guy wasn’t a careless idiot like the dolt she’d taken out downstairs. She’d need more than her bare hands to deal with this fellow.
She held her breath, convinced he could hear the pounding of her heart, and prayed for him to pass her by without seeing her.
After three eternal seconds he did just that, continuing on through the museum. She didn’t permit herself to breathe until his footsteps faded in the distance. When she was certain he was gone, she counted to three before rising and peering around the side of the exhibit. He was gone. What was more, the lobby was only fifty feet or so to her right. As she watched, a woman in a cleaning uniform appeared from somewhere near the lobby, unlocked the front door, and left. She did not lock it behind her.
Angel didn’t hesitate. She sprang to her feet, knocking the pirate to the floor, vaulted the rail, and made a dash for the door. Outside, the cleaning lady was climbing into a van. Maybe Angel could catch a ride.
She hit the lobby at full steam and was just reaching out to push the door open when her world dissolved into ice and pain. She slammed face-down on the tile floor, her arms and legs suddenly useless. The wind was knocked out of her and she tasted warm, salty blood in her mouth.
“Was my little dove trying to fly the coop?” Locke loomed over her, holding a taser and smiling. “I must say, I do enjoy shattering dreams at the very moment they are to be realized.”
“She almost made it.” The big guy she’d seen patrolling moments before stood behind Locke, looking equally pleased. “I wonder what she did to Charles?”
“Yes, I wonder that as well.” Locke dropped to a knee and leaned in close. “Charles was a test. He’s a great fool, and I’d have been disappointed had you not escaped him. Just know that you can’t escape me.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a syringe. “By the time we get you back to your cell, you should be most tractable.”
Angel watched in horror as the needle descended toward her limp arm. She heard someone screaming, then realized it was her.
Tamsin stared across her desk at the surprise guest who had just interrupted her day. He was a pale man his blond hair nearly white. She’d have mistaken him for an albino, but his eyes were alarmingly blue. He grinned, his perfect white teeth blending in to his pale face. Ordinarily, she’d never have granted an audience to a perfect stranger, but his cryptic explanation of his business had been enough to get her attention. He knew something about Kidd, or so he claimed.
He smiled at her, his manner easy as if this were his office and she the visitor. Was he ever going to speak?
“Who are you and what do you want?” She immediately chastised herself for speaking first. Patience had never been her strong suit. “Tell me now or I’ll have you tossed out.” It was a feeble attempt at regaining the upper hand, but it was all she could think of. For a moment it seemed as if she would be forced to make good on her threat, because the man continued to smile. But, just as she was reaching for her intercom, he spoke one word.
“Herrschaft.”
She held on to her calm exterior with the greatest of effort. Inside, she was a mess. Why would anyone from Heilig Herrschaft, that vile branch of the Dominion dedicated to restoring the Nazis to power in Germany, using the church, of all things, as its vehicle, dare come anywhere near her or any Sister? Was he an assassin? Surely not.
“Please, Fraulein.” He spoke with only the mildest German accent. “Be at ease. I know who you are.”
“Then you are a fool for coming here today.” She ought to have him taken into custody immediately, but something stayed her hand.
“Perhaps, but a brave fool, no?” Each time he smiled, he seemed ever more wolflike. “There is enmity between our organizations, that is true, but I believe we can find common ground.”
“Morgan would never hear of it.”
“Not with Morgan and not with the Sisterhood. With you.”
“What could we possibly have in common?”
“A common enemy. Your sister.” He held up a finger, silencing her protest. “How much has Morgan told you about Oak Island?”
Tamsin’s stomach lurched. The honest answer was ‘nothing,’ but she didn’t care to admit it.
“Yes, I see,” he said, correctly interpreting her hesitation. He leaned forward and adopted a conspiratorial tone. “Morgan has found something on Oak Island.”
“Impossible. The island has been searched countless times, and nothing has ever been found. The Money Pit is well named, for too much money has been wasted looking for treasure that is not there.”
“You know it is not treasure we seek.” He paused. “A Kidd chest has been found.”
This time she could not keep the surprise from her face. “How do you know?”
“Of course I cannot tell you that. It is enough that we know, and now, you know.”
Tamsin stared at the man without seeing him. It was no surprise that Morgan was keeping secrets, but it galled her none the less. And this was one secret that belonged to all three Sisters. It was what they had been working for.
“How do I know you are telling the truth?”
“You do not, but you can find out. Put the question to your sister. Look into her eyes and see the lie. Or, perhaps, she will tell you the truth.” He shrugged, as if the whole issue was of no import to him.
“Assuming you are telling the truth, and Morgan has found... something.” She could not bring herself to say what, exactly. “What is it you want from me?”
“We want you to take control away from Morgan, with our help if you like. In turn, when you find what you seek, we ask only to be permitted to make use of it one time. Nothing more.”
“You believe the stories?” she scoffed. “They are symbols, and only to Britons at that. To the rest of the world, they are mere curiosities.” Her words rang false, and she knew it. She’d had enough glimpses in her lifetime of powers not understood by the modern world to know better.
“We believe,” he said simply. “If you think they are, as you say, curiosities, then surely there is no harm in permitting us to try.”
“Suppose it will do what legend says. How will you use it?”
“That is our affair.” He sat up straight. “You should not so
easily cede control to Morgan. What power does she truly wield, save the court of public opinion and the allegiance of a few politicians? You have authority.”
“I am Chief Constable of the transport police. That is a far cry from powerful.”
“You underestimate yourself, and we both know you have forged many alliances behind Morgan’s back. Let us help one another. In fact, I have some information that might be of interest to you. Someone in America is making quite an effort to find Kidd’s chests. I can provide you with specifics, should you choose to work with us.”
“What benefit is there to helping Heilig Herrschaft? The last time your people controlled Germany, our nations tried to destroy each other.”
“Yes, and now America has come to dominate the world. What if we had formed an alliance, instead? Where might both our nations be?”
She shook her head. Dealing with the Dominion? The very idea was mad. Then again, perhaps this was the opportunity she had long sought. She rose from her chair, turned, and gazed down at the slow-flowing waters of the Thames. On the opposite side, the London Eye stuck out like a festering boil on the landscape of her beloved city. Too few held on to the things that truly mattered any more. The ancient things rooted in history and tradition; things that held power to make modern inventions seem trite by comparison. If the Dominion could help her obtain them... Perhaps it was time to take a risk.
“Tell me more.”
Chapter 19
“Jimmy has something for us!” Dane proclaimed, scrolling through the email he’d just received from Jimmy Letson, an old friend and accomplished hacker. “I gave him a list of everything in Dad’s research to see if he could come up with any leads on Kidd’s chests.”
“And what did he find?” Bones lounged on the deck of Sea Foam with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. “I’m already bored.”
They’d met up with Charlie in a coastal town in Maine. He’d returned their belongings and informed them that Sheriff Meade wouldn’t let him post bail for, or even visit, with Angel until Monday morning. The sheriff also declined to say what she was charged with. Incensed, Charlie vowed to bring all his resources to bear on the situation. He’d been disappointed to learn that his Oak Island project was at an end, but had been downright giddy to hear of what Dane and Bones had discovered and to see the pictures they’d taken.
Now they were cruising south somewhere off the coast of Massachusetts. Matt, who had come along with Charlie, had rejoined the crew and was piloting the ship.
“He’s got a few possibilities,” Dane said. “There’s a museum on Gardiner’s Island...”
“Already checked it,” Avery said. She was seated next to Bones, drinking a cup of chai tea. “No joy.”
“Okay. How about the Maritime Museum in Port Royal?” The thought of a trip to Jamaica definitely appealed to him.
“Been there. Done that.” Avery frowned. “No offense, but I don’t think your friend has much chance of finding the Kidd chests. It’s not like I’m the first who’s tried.”
“Don’t underestimate Jimmy,” Dane said. “He’s talented and has access to some really obscure stuff.”
“Not necessarily legally,” Bones added.
Dane ran through Jimmy’s list, growing more discouraged as Avery eliminated each possibility. Finally, he was down to the final two items.
“Trinity Church, on Wall Street,” he began.
“Nope. Nothing belonging to Kidd in their archives. I’ve been there several times, and so had Dad.”
“But they just added the journal of a William Vesey.”
Avery sat up straight, her eyes boring into Dane with raptor-like intensity.
“I take it that’s somebody important?” Bones asked over his coffee mug.
“He was the first rector of Trinity Church,” Avery said. “He served there while Kidd was a member.”
“Jimmy read an email from the donor to an archivist at the church which says it includes an account of Kidd’s confession to Vesey and,” he paused for dramatic effect, “Vesey alludes to a treasure map.”
“How did he get access to their... oh, never mind.” Avery took a sip of her tea and pondered this new information. “No mention of a chest?”
“Not in the email. Jimmy would have mentioned it. But maybe in the journal?”
“It’s possible,” she mused. “I’ve researched Vesey and there’s no indication that he ever possessed a sea chest, but maybe Kidd told him where one or more could be found. It’s worth following up on. Anything else on the list?”
“It’s not specifically a sea chest, but there’s a chest connected with the Poe Museum. It once belonged to Edgar Allan Poe.”
“No connection to Kidd?” Bones asked.
“No. I guess he made the connection because I included The Gold Bug in the list of Dad’s research items.”
“Poe was a Kidd aficionado,” Avery said. “But I’ve been to the Poe Museum and there were no chests there that fit the bill.”
“So, cross Baltimore off the list,” Dane said.
“You mean Richmond,” Avery corrected.
“No, the Poe House and Museum in Baltimore.”
“What? That place is tiny. There’s almost nothing there, and definitely no sea chest.” Avery stood and began pacing.
“She’s definitely got that Maddock intensity,” Bones observed before breaking into laughter as Dane and Avery shot dirty looks his way.
“He’s added a link here, let me check it out.” Dane tapped on the hyperlink Jimmy provided and it opened to an article from the Baltimore Sun, in which an director at the Baltimore Maritime Museum bemoaned the city’s refusal to continue funding the Poe House. Dane read it over twice and saw no mention of a sea chest. “I don’t see anything here.”
Avery snatched his phone away and read the article. Frown lines appeared in her brow and disappeared almost immediately.
“It’s in the picture!” She tapped on the image that accompanied the article. “You missed it because it’s so tiny on the screen, but check it.” She held up the phone for both to see and, sure enough, a wooden chest sat on a shelf in the background over the director’s shoulder. “You’ve never seen it, but this is an exact match for the Kidd chest that Dad discovered!”
“Do you think this director guy found this chest at the Poe House and helped himself to it?”
“Could be. Even if this is a Kidd chest, unless you know what’s inside, it doesn’t have much value. I can see how someone who admires Poe and also loves maritime history could give in to temptation.”
“That would explain why it’s never been identified as a Kidd chest. As far as anyone knew, it was just another wooden chest that Poe stored his crap in,” Bones interjected. “Who knows, it might have been gathering dust in an attic somewhere until this guy found it.”
“I think they’re both worth checking out. Which one do we follow up on first?”Avery asked.
“New York’s on the way to Baltimore,” Bones said.
Dane nodded.
“Wall Street here we come.”
“Questioning her will not get us anywhere.” Locke shook his head and closed the door behind him. He had hoped Bonebrake’s sister would be a reliable source of information, but it was not to be.
“Are you certain? I could use some more... intense techniques.” Shears ran his hand over his shaved scalp. He wasn’t prone to the excesses that made Fisher so erratic, but efforts were not needed.
“No. She told me everything she knew, which is not much.”
“With all due respect, where’s the harm in making certain?” Shears didn’t quite meet his eye as he spoke. Clearly, he had more on his mind than gathering information.
“Torture only motivates the victim to tell you whatever they think you want to hear.” Locke kept his tone patient, though frustration was wearing on him. He dreaded his next call to Morgan. He needed a breakthrough. “Besides, if we keep her largely intact, we might possibly make use of her.”
“How do you mean?” Shears asked.
“Never mind. Just keep an eye on her and let me know when she’s fully awake. She and I are going to make a telephone call.” He left Shears to guard the cell. Dane Maddock had stolen the prize out from under his nose, but now Locke had a bargaining chip.
Returning to his office, he logged onto his computer and performed a search on Angelica Bonebrake. He had not expected to find much, perhaps a social networking page from which he could glean a few bits of useful information, but the pages of hits that filled his screen took him aback. The girl was a professional fighter and a minor celebrity.
He stroked his chin and smiled. He did not yet have a treasure to give to Morgan, but this girl’s unique set of skills would make her a perfect plaything for Morgan’s little games.
Chapter 20
“This is most unexpected, Sisters.” Morgan ushered Tamsin and Rhiannon into her private study. “Our next meeting is not for two days.”
“We felt it was necessary for us to come early,” Tamsin said. “We are certain you were eager to share your news with us.”
“Of course.”
Three chairs formed a triangle in the center of the room. They met in the middle, joined hands, and spoke the ritual words. As the ancient speech rolled across her tongue, Morgan felt a strong kinship to their forbears. She could almost feel the power coursing through her veins. How satisfying it would be when the three were made one again, and she wielded a power long forgotten by the world.
When the ritual ended, they took their seats and Morgan began her explanation.
“It’s nothing really,” Morgan said. “I have received yet another request to run for Parliament along with a hint that I would make for a fine Prime Minister.”
