by David Wood
Dane hastily relieved him of his weapon, as well as a radio and cell phone. He rolled the man over. His nose was broken, his forehead split, and his face thick with blood and mucous. He gasped for breath, staring up at Dane with hate-filled eyes.
“I know you’re Locke’s man,” Dane snarled. “You tell him to back off. I might not be so nice to the next man who takes a shot at me. Got it?”
“You...” the man panted... “don’t give orders... to Locke. He has... something you want.”
“What do you mean?” Had Locke found the other chest?
The man clammed up.
“Maddock! Get over here!” Bones called from the street.
Dane left the man lying there and ran toward the sound of his friend’s voice, dashing through the gate and arriving on the sidewalk by the entrance to the Church Street Subway station just as a motorcycle screeched to a halt in front of them, scattering pedestrians who shouted and cursed. Willis raised the face shield and smiled broadly at them. He loved bikes.
“Matt and Corey are on the way.” He said.
“Get Avery out of here.” Dane told him.
This time, Avery didn’t argue, but leapt onto the back of the bike, pulled on the spare helmet, and wrapped her arms around Willis as he rocketed out into traffic.
“Look out!” Bones shouted, pushing Dane to the ground as a bullet whistled over their heads and the few people who hadn’t been driven away by Willis’s bike ran for the subway or the churchyard. The big man from inside the church had recovered his wits, circled around the outside of the churchyard, and was now coming at them head-on.
Dane reached for his Walther but, before he could draw it, a beat-up van flashed past them, and bounded up onto the sidewalk. As it drew even with the approaching man, the passenger stuck out his arm, encased in a hard cast, and clotheslined their attacker under the chin, linebacker style. The surprised man flew backward and tumbled down the stairs to the subway.
“Holy crap, that hurt!” Matt groaned as Dane and Bones clambered into the van and Corey hit the gas. Sirens sounded in the distance but Dane wasn’t worried. They’d be long gone before the police arrived. Besides, it had been the other guys shooting at them, and in front of witnesses at that, and neither was in any condition to get up and run.
“Why did you hit him with your cast?” Dane asked as Corey wove the van through traffic.
“I don’t know, it seemed like something Bones would do,” Matt groaned, holding his arm to his chest.
“Amen to that, my brother.” Bones high-fived Matt’s good hand. “Nice rescue, by the way.”
“Did you find it?” Corey asked, eyes locked on the street. “Because if I get points on my license, I want it to be for a good cause.”
“We did, and as soon as we catch up with Willis and Avery, we’ll see where it leads.”
Chapter 22
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Avery took out the paper they’d recovered from the chest and laid it on the table in their hotel room. She carefully unrolled it, revealing another map. Unlike the Oak Island map, however, there was no code to break. Instead, someone had added on to the original map. The older, more faded ink, showed a river and a stretch of shoreline. A dotted line led inland to a spot marked with a cross. Distances were lined out to specific landmarks: a tree, a boulder, and a bend in a stream. In the bottom right corner, the creator of the map had drawn three of the cross-in-circle symbols they’d seen on Oak Island arranged in a triangle around another familiar symbol— two Knights on a horse. Over the top of this map, someone had inked in a street, a building, and an “x.”
“That’s the cross symbol we saw at Oak Island,” Dane said, pointing to the corner of the map.
“I don’t believe it,” Avery said. “This is Trinity Church.”
Dane hadn’t even noticed the labels. Sure enough, the street was labeled “Wall” and the building “Trinity.”
“Kidd, or one of his contemporaries, must have added these details,” he said. “The land had probably changed so much that the landmarks on the original map were useless.”
“So, once more into the breach?” Bones asked, drawing an amused look from Avery. Dane had long ago grown accustomed to Bones’ occasional lapses in which he let his intelligence show, but people who didn’t know him well were sometimes taken unaware.
“We’d have to be crazy to go back,” Corey said. “They know we’re here and they know what three of us look like. Surely they’ll be watching for us.”
“Maybe not,” Dane mused. “They know we found the map, but they have no idea where it leads. They probably figure we’re already on the way out of town, headed for wherever this map leads.”
Just then, Bones’ phone rang. He answered it, listened for a minute, then uttered a stream of curses. The conversation didn’t last much longer, and when he hung up, he cursed again and slammed his fist into the wall.
“Locke’s got Angel.”
Dane felt like he’d been dropped into freezing water. He sat there, unable to speak, or even move.
“Charlie went back to see Meade. I don’t know what he said, but the sheriff broke down and admitted they don’t have her. The deputies tried to bring her to Meade on the island, and Locke’s people basically intimidated them into turning her over.”
The icy shock was melting quickly, warmed by Dane’s kindled fury. He pictured Angel in Locke’s power and suddenly felt a blood rage he’d only experienced in the heat of battle in the service.
“Locke said he’d give her back.” Bones’ tone of voice made it clear what he thought of that promise.
“Oh my God.” Avery looked like she was about to faint. “This is crazy.”
“We’re going back to the island,” Dane said. “Screw the treasure hunt. I’ll kill every one of those...”
“They’re gone.” Bones cut him off. “He left some researchers behind, and that’s it.”
“Damn!” Dane stood and began to pace the room. “Does Meade have any idea where they’ve taken her?”
“He gave us two clues: the museum, and somebody named Morgan.”
“The Bailyn Museum?” Avery asked. “That’s where Locke supposedly works, and it’s right here in New York.”
“Let’s go.” Dane headed to the door, his thoughts bent on mayhem.”
“Hold on there, bro. We need a plan.” Bones motioned to the chair Dane had vacated. “Sit down and let’s think this through.”
Bones acting the calm, rational part was such a departure that it brought Dane up short. He turned back to face the others, but didn’t sit down.
“I want to hurt somebody too,” Bones said, “but if we just go storming in there, we could get Angel killed, assuming she’s even there. We need to do this right, and we need you at your best.”
“You’re right.” Dane squeezed his eyes shut and turned the problem over in his mind. “They know me, you, and Avery by sight, but they don’t know the rest of the crew. Corey, if we get you close enough, could you hack into their network?”
“Jimmy would be the better choice, but it’s possible,” Corey said. “It depends on what kind of security measures they have in place.”
“It’s worth a try. We don’t need access to everything, just their security camera footage.”
“I’ll call Jimmy right now. Maybe he can give me some pointers.” He excused himself and stepped out onto the balcony to make his call.
Dane turned to Willis.
“Would you be willing to go inside, take a look around?”
“Hell yes. Let me put on my nerd clothes and I’ll be ready to roll.” His smile, normally so open and friendly, was hungry and dangerous. “Nobody messes with our girl.”
“What about me?” Matt raised his broken arm. “I’m ready to bash some more bad guys with my cast.”
“I have a job for you too. We,” he indicated Bones, Matt, and Avery, “are going wherever this map leads.”
Chapter 23
Corey parked t
he van in the parking lot of the Bailyn Museum as close to the building as possible, cut the engine, and moved to the back, out of sight of passers by. He quickly located the Bailyn’s wireless network, clicked to access it, and activated a program Jimmy had given him. He nervously drummed out the beat to “Apache” as the program began trying security codes at a dizzying rate. He worried that the Bailyn would have systems in place to detect intruders, but Jimmy had assured him this program was as good as invisible.
In a matter of minutes, he was in. Jimmy had programmed an Elvis icon that gave a thumbs-up and said, “Thank you very much,” upon a successful hack. Corey chuckled at the image and moved on.
A few keystrokes and a list of directories scrolled down the screen. He selected /security and Jimmy’s program began its work. Two minutes later he was looking at a list of sub-folders containing video from various parts of the building. Where to begin? Angel had been taken less than twenty-four hours earlier, so he chose a likely time frame and began his search.
He sighed, wondering how long this was going to take. He hoped Willis was having better luck.
Willis, clad in khaki pants, a baggy polo shirt, and glasses, and wearing a camera around his neck, made his way through the museum. It wasn’t the greatest disguise in the world. He was more than six feet tall, so he stood out in any crowd, but at least he was dressed appropriately for the setting.
He regularly consulted the map in his brochure, but it wasn’t the exhibits he was interested in. He was marking off the rooms he had inspected, searching for access to offices, storage, or mechanical rooms. So far he’d met with no success. The few doors he had seen were locked and required electronic clearance to enter.
The only room he had not yet checked stood adjacent to the entryway. If he struck out here, he wasn’t sure what he’d try next. Maybe go outside and look for a service entrance. The exhibits here were devoted to pirates. He took that as a good sign. A replica of a Seventeenth Century pirate ship hung suspended from the ceiling, with a second-floor viewing area up above. Tall windows lined the wall to his left and a series of exhibits filled the wall to his right.
He passed wax figures of Blackbeard, Captain Kidd, and Black Caesar. A heavy tarp was draped across the next exhibit and a sign taped to the rail indicated it was “closed for repair.” That didn’t necessarily mean anything, but he had a feeling about it, and his instincts had kept him alive through a youth spent in one of the worst neighborhoods in Detroit, and then through service in the Navy.
He checked to make sure no one was looking, then peered behind the plastic. A wax figure lay on the floor, one arm broken. Nothing too weird about that. And then he spotted something very out of place— the tip of a sneaker print. Even that might not have seemed unusual if it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen enough bloody prints in his life to know one when he saw it. Whoever had come through here had stepped in blood. He leaned farther in and spotted a doorknob on the back wall.
“Can I help you?” A big man with a shaved head and battered face stood behind him. The man wore a museum ID badge that named him A. Shears, a radio on one hip, and a pistol on the other.
Willis immediately recognized him by the description Dane had given. This was the man who had accosted Dane and Bones in the chapel earlier in the day and whom Matt had taken out. He suppressed a grin, wishing he’d seen what Bones had described as an “epic takedown.” He had to hand it to Shears, though. The guy bounced back quickly.
“Just wondering what this display was. First time I’ve been here, you know.”
Shears looked him up and down before answering.
“Nothing special, just a diorama of a pirate raid. The bloke got himself a broken arm.”
“All right. Cool.” He continued down the line of exhibits, feeling Shears’ gaze boring into him. He checked his watch. Forty minutes until closing time. If Shears didn’t move along soon, he’d have to find a place to hide.
Thirty minutes later, he stood alone on the second floor balcony that afforded visitors a view of the pirate ship. Shears still stalked the ground floor, ushering the last visitors out of the museum. As the last group of people left, Shears mounted the steps, heading up to the second floor.
Willis was cornered. The stairs were the only way down and, with Shears already suspicious of him, he had no way to explain his presence here. He looked for a way out. He had less than ten seconds before Shears reached the top of the stairs, turned, and spotted him. He looked around, seeking a way out, and his eyes fell on the pirate ship.
It would be a bit of a leap, but he could do it. His mind made up, he clambered up onto the rail, not looking down at the floor below. Hoping this wasn’t the day his impulsiveness finally came back to bite him, he jumped.
His stomach fluttered on the edge of nausea as he flew through open space. Next thing he knew, his arms and legs were wrapped around the stout cable that supported one corner of the stern. He slid down its length, his hands burning as the rough steel scoured his palms, and dropped with scarcely a sound into the ship.
He hit the deck and reached for the Beretta M9 he wore concealed underneath his shirt. If Shears spotted the gentle rocking of the ship, he might investigate, and Willis was through playing around. He waited, wondering if he’d be spotted and, if not, how he was going to get down.
“It’s somewhere around here, I think.” Avery let out and exasperated sigh and stamped her foot. “This is so frustrating. We need more to go on.”
They stood in the Trinity Churchyard, looking at the rows of gravestones, many of which had eroded over the centuries until the engraving on them was nearly illegible.
“If we’re looking for another Templar church, we have to assume it was built long before Trinity Church or this graveyard were here,” Dane said.
“Thanks for that ray of sunshine,” Bones replied. “If we don’t find something soon, I’m going to get all weepy and emo like that Keep America Beautiful Indian.”
“Iron Eyes Cody?” Avery said. “Did you know he wasn’t even an Indian? He was Italian.”
“Shut it! No freaking way.”
“Yes, way.” Avery laughed.
“Focus.” Dane knew Bones was trying not to think about Angel. Dane too was having a hard time keeping his mind on the task at hand. “The map has three of the cross-in-circle symbols set in a triangle. Why don’t we see if we can find that same pattern on any of the gravestones?”
They spread out, moving quickly because evening was rapidly approaching and the light growing dim. Dane soon found what he was looking for on the gravestone of William Bradford. The three crosses formed a triangle around a cherub face. Hope rose, but fell as he realized it was only a simple headstone and could not be the entrance to anything.
“Got one!” Bones called. “Three crosses around an angel dude. Just a headstone, though.”
“Same here.” Avery sounded disheartened.
“Wall, that was a fail,” Bones said. “What now?”
Dane considered the situation. Like the crosses, the headstones formed an equilateral triangle, and at the center of that triangle stood...
“Alexander Hamilton’s tomb,” Dane whispered.
The tomb of Alexander Hamilton was perhaps the most impressive of all the structures in the churchyard. Square at the bottom, with columns at each corner surmounted by urns, the tomb was topped by a weathered obelisk.
Dane knelt down behind Bradford’s headstone and followed the cherub’s line of sight. Sure enough, it pointed directly at the obelisk. He instructed Bones and Avery to do the same with the headstones they had found and, moments later, they confirmed his theory.
Dane made his way over to the tomb and circled it, looking for any indication that this was what they were looking for. An epitaph to the famed patriot was engraved on one side, but he saw no Templar symbols. He let his eyes drift upward to the top of the obelisk where he thought he saw the faint outline of a circle engraved on the weathered top.
“You two
, keep a lookout,” he said to Bones and Avery, and climbed onto the tomb. The obelisk was short enough that he could easily see the four sides of the capstone.
“They’re here!” he exclaimed. “A templar cross on three sides of the point. This is it.”
“But Hamilton wasn’t a Freemason. Why would that symbol be carved onto his tomb?” Avery looked puzzled.
“It shouldn’t be here. Someone put that mark here for a reason.” Dane had no doubt he was on the right track.
“What do we do now? Say open sesame?” Bones asked.
Dane looked down at the symbols and two details immediately caught his attention: a groove ran around the capstone, as if it were a separate piece; and on the fourth side, instead of a cross, a small arrow was carved. It was so tiny he almost missed it, but it was there.
“What’s that thing you’re always saying, Bones? Righty tightie, lefty loosie?” With that, he took hold of the capstone and gave it a deft twist. It didn’t budge.
“Impressive.” Avery smirked, then turned and gave Bones a wink.
“Thanks for the support.” Dane got a better grip this time and poured all of his strength into the effort. Slowly, inch by inch, the capstone began to rotate, and rose as it turned. After a quarter turn, Dane heard a loud thunk and the capstone froze. “Anything?”
“Nothing,” Avery said.
“There are three crosses,” Bones said. “How about three turns?”
“Or maybe three quarter-turns,” Avery added.
“You’re already correcting me, woman?” Bones asked. “We hardly know each other.”
Dane tuned them out and gave the capstone another twist. He felt the strain in every muscle of his shoulders, arms, and back as he turned the stone another quarter-turn, and then another. When he’d completed the third turn, the tomb vibrated beneath his feet and a hollow, grating sound rose up from down below.
