Solomon Key

by David Wood

  Nomi was enthusiastically pointing out various marks on the skeletal bits that lay partially covered in silt. Deep grooves in the rib cage of one skeleton, indicating the victim had been stabbed in the heart. Skulls with gaping holes in the back. Maddock understood the reason for her excitement. These people had been executed, lending credence to the Black Caesar legend she had uncovered.

  He looked up above and saw the surface of the water shimmering ten meters above. He pointed up to it. Bones and Nomi nodded and, as one, they swam upward.

  Breaking the surface, Maddock saw that they were at the end of a narrow cave. The far end was blocked by a mountain of rubble, but it was what lay in between that caught his eye.

  “Gold,” Bones said. “Hell, yes!”

  To the left, a pile of gold lay spilled out on the floor amidst the rotting remains of the chest that had once held it. To their right stood a small armory—rusted swords, a couple of flintlock pistols, and a small keg of powder. Next to that stood a crudely built wooden table and a few chairs.

  Maddock spat out his regulator and took a tentative breath. The air was stale but breathable.

  “This is it,” he said.

  “I’m first,” Nomi said.

  “Hold on.” Maddock laid a hand on her shoulder. “I understand, but this is a pirate’s den. There might be booby traps.”

  “I think you’ve seen too many adventure movies,” Nomi said.

  “Trust me.”

  “Let me guess,” Bones said. “You want me to check it out.”

  “You’re the most expendable...I mean, dependable.”

  “Screw you, Maddock.” Bones took a long look around, checking the floor and ceiling. Maddock did the same. There didn’t seem to be anything there that might endanger them.

  “I have a feeling that Caesar would only have rigged the entrance,” Maddock said. “Just watch your step.” Patches of sand and fine gravel lay here and there, but the floor was mostly clean and featureless. No signs of trapdoors or steps that might trigger something dangerous.

  “Been there, done that.” Bones heaved his bulk out of the water and clambered into the cave. He stripped off his fins, then, dripping water, he made a circuit of the cavern. “Looks clear to me, but enter at your own risk.”

  “Good enough.” Nomi climbed out, followed by Maddock. Maddock and Bones removed their fins and air tanks and stowed them in a nearby alcove. Nomi left her gear on, mesmerized by their surroundings.

  While Bones knelt over the small treasure pile, taking inventory, Maddock took in the entirety of the cavern. The hollowed out cupboard that would have held food stores. The broken remnants of rum barrels. Shards of crockery. The graffiti-like carvings on the wall. As much as he loved finding treasure, it was the historical aspect that fascinated him the most. He tried to imagine himself a pirate, holed up in this cave. Carousing, singing, planning their next raid.

  He began snapping photographs, recording every inch of the site before they disturbed it. He wished his dad could see it. A lump formed in his throat. Even after all these years, there were still moments when he would forget the accident, and a wave of grief would wash over him anew.

  “You all right, Maddock?” Bones asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Cool. Listen, don’t take any photos of the treasure pile until I’ve taken our finder’s fee.”

  Shaking his head, Maddock turned away.

  “Don’t argue with me, dude. We’ve got more right to this treasure than the government does. Wasn’t one of their agencies that found it.”

  “I’m not going to look. Plausible deniability, you know.” If the cave was located on public land, which Maddock suspected it was, considering the direction and distance they had traveled, the law held that all of the treasure belonged to the state. Common practice was for the state to keep all artifacts of historical value, and give the finders a share of any treasure. There was, however, no guarantee. “Just leave enough so it doesn’t look suspicious,” he said.

  “I know what I’m doing. A little for us, a little for Nomi. Hey Nomi, do you want some of these jewels, or just some gold?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Nomi said absently. Her attention was focused on whatever lay on the table.

  Maddock turned and took a few steps in her direction, but sprang back when a loud crack echoed through the cave.

  “What the hell was that?” Bones asked.

  “The floor isn’t solid. At least, not everywhere. Watch your step.”

  “We’re not all as fat as you, Maddock,” Bones said, returning to bagging gold coins.

  “Whatever.” Maddock shone his light on the spot that had nearly given way. A strange pattern caught his eye. The carving was shallow, easy to miss. But he recognized it immediately, and it didn’t belong here. He took out his camera and took photos from several angles, then knelt and brushed away the sand to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

  “I can’t believe this!” Nomi shouted. Maddock turned to see the young woman slam her fist down on the table. The aged, rotting wood splintered beneath the blow. “That’s just wonderful,” she muttered, looking down at the hole she’d punched in its surface.

  “What’s going on?” Bones asked.

  “It’s ruined.” She held up a leather bound journal. “I finally found Black Caesar’s journal and the pages are stuck together, the ink smeared. It’s a mess.”

  “Maybe some of the pages can be salvaged,” Maddock said. “Some labs can...”

  “I don’t want to hear about it,” she snapped. “You can’t possibly know how it feels to come this far and...” She looked up, glowered at the ceiling. “Forget it. Perhaps some of these other papers will be of use.” She took out a waterproof bag and stowed the journal and various papers. Next, she double-bagged it, then secured the bundle in a larger dive bag.

  “Here’s your gold,” Bone said. “Consolation prize?”

  “Thanks.” She tucked the gold into the bag. Head down, she stalked toward the pool through which they’d entered the cave.

  “You sure you’re ready to go? Don’t want to look around a little longer?” Maddock asked. He wanted to give the strange carving a closer inspection.

  “There’s nothing else here for me. Thank you for your help.”

  “Hold on, chick,” Bones said. “Give us a minute.”

  Nomi smirked, reached into a pouch at her belt, and pulled out something the size of her fist.

  “Sorry, gentlemen, but you’re not coming with me.” She tossed the object on the ground and plunged into the water.

  Maddock didn’t get a good look at what she’d dropped, but somehow he knew what it was.

  “Grenade!”

  He dove for cover as the world around him erupted in fire and smoke.

  Chapter 6

  Glastonbury Abbey

  Beneath the cover of darkness, Isla crept about the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey. Founded in the seventh century, the abbey was destroyed by fire in 1184 and rebuilt in the fourteenth century. It had once numbered among the richest and most powerful monasteries in England, controlling large swathes of land and exerting great influence over the local populace until its dissolution under King Henry VIII. Isla had seen replicas in miniature of Glastonbury in its glory and found it hard to believe that so little remained of the once-great monastery.

  The ruins stood in the midst of a wide swathe of manicured green space. She crossed it hastily, feeling vulnerable out in the open, until she reached the site of King Arthur’s grave. She had to confess it was something of a disappointment—a rectangular area marked by a sign. Kneeling before it, dew soaking the knees of her jeans, she read the words lettered in white. The sign marked this as the spot upon which the bodies of Arthur and Guinevere had been excavated and gave a few details of the treatment of the remains. There was nothing here that Agnes had not already told her.

  She sighed. This was a dead end. If there had been a tunnel here, it was buried long ago. It could not possibly be t
he spot Baxter had found. The entrance had to be somewhere among the ruins.

  She made her way toward the dark, hulking outline of the old monastery. As she walked, she felt an itch at the center of her back, and the feeling someone was watching her. She knew it was foolish. This wasn’t the sort of place that required high-level security, and on a foggy night such as this, she was nearly invisible as long as she didn’t turn on her torch.

  She started with the ruins of the Great Church, where only a few sections of masonry survived from the nave and transepts of the old structure. It didn’t take long to satisfy herself that there was nothing to find here. Next she moved on to the Lady Chapel.

  Built immediately after the fire that consumed the abbey in the late twelfth century, the chapel remained largely intact. Despite her anxiety, Isla could not help but take time to admire its design. The ornate capitals that crested the various columns, the arches adorned with chevrons, and the portals with elaborate floral sculptures made it a striking example of Early English architecture. As she wandered the ruin, however, she couldn’t shake the perpetual chill that soaked her to the bone. It was more than the cool, damp air. In the scant light, the shadowy ruin felt like a haunted house. She half expected the ghost of a headless nun to come floating around the corner. The mental image made her laugh, the sound unnaturally shrill in the quiet night.

  Get a grip on yourself. You’ve got a job to do.

  She descended to the lower level of the chapel’s interior. Here, below ground level and shielded by stone walls, she felt comfortable turning on her torch. Though she walked softly, the sound of her trainers treading upon flagstones sounded like a steady drumbeat. She wished she had someone keeping a lookout. Even a moron like Grizzly would provide a measure of comfort. Perhaps she wasn’t as self-reliant as she’d always believed.

  She took her time exploring the chapel’s dark recesses, searching for anything that might be an entrance to a secret tunnel. She tested the walls and floor for hollow spaces, looked for unusual markings that might point the way. Nothing. Finally, she was forced to admit that this place, too, was a dead end.

  She checked her watch. It was after midnight; several hours of darkness remained. Unfortunately, she was running out of places to search. Unless, of course the entrance was in some obscure location, like beneath one of the nearby ponds. If she didn’t find something soon, she’d have to go back and try to prise some more information out of Agnes. Or maybe Mr. Baxter had left records of his research behind. If Isla could slip into the house unnoticed...

  What was she thinking? Breaking into an elderly woman’s house in order to try and steal something that might not exist? What was wrong with her?

  “That’s an ironic train of thought, considering you’re presently trespassing on a scheduled monument in hopes of finding a secret path that will lead you to a magic ring owned by a figure out of legend.” She said the words aloud, savoring the absurdity. Then again, she had recently taken part in a search for relics that had proved to be exactly as legend described them.

  Exiting the chapel, she paused to look around. She still appeared to have the place to herself. If there was a security guard on duty, he was most likely somewhere inside where it was warm and dry. Probably enjoying a nice cuppa. She imagined sitting before a cheery fire, a piping hot mug in her hands. The thought made the night seem that much colder. When had she become so weak? Annoyed, she stalked out onto the grass, looking around for a likely spot to search.

  Her eyes fell upon the Abbot’s Kitchen, an octagonal building that abutted a small section of the ruined wall that had once been a part of the opulent Abbot’s Hall. Unlike the other sections of the abbey, the structure remained intact. It was considered one of the best preserved medieval kitchens in all of Europe. Isla didn’t consider it a promising possibility. She knew from research that the interior had been set up to replicate a functioning kitchen, and that the site saw significant foot traffic every day. It seemed to her unlikely that a secret passageway could go undiscovered in such a spot.

  Sighing, she gazed at the dark outline of the kitchen. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the clouds, casting a silver glow upon the buttresses that supported the walls, each leading up to a cornice adorned with grotesque gargoyles. It was certainly mysterious-looking, with its blocky, fortress-like base and pyramidal roof.

  She froze. Pyramids had once flanked Arthur’s burial site. Add in the Middle Eastern connection to Joseph of Arimathea, and it suddenly seemed possible that the kitchen could, in fact, be the place she was looking for. Heart racing, she made her way over to the dark building.

  The door was locked. Why this came as a surprise to her she had no idea. She jiggled the handle, as if that would make a difference, and even tried throwing her weight against it. All she got for her trouble was a sore shoulder and bruised ego. Damn! She should have learned how to pick locks. Bones had boasted about his skill, said it was easy to learn. She couldn’t let her attempt be foiled by one locked door. There had to be another way in.

  She rounded the building, searching for another point of ingress. She was halfway around when her foot struck something solid. She stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell on her face.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Not willing to risk using her torch, she took out her smartphone and tapped the screen. The faint glow was sufficient to reveal what lay in the grass before her. A cellar door!

  “Now, that seems like just the thing.”

  She released the simple latch that held the door closed, raised it, and shined her light inside. She could tell immediately that this was part of the original structure. It had been converted to a storage space at some point in the past, but not too recently, considering the layer of dust that coated everything. Smiling, she climbed down into the cellar and closed the door behind her.

  She flicked on her torch, the sudden burst of light stinging her eyes. It was a small space, the ceiling only a few inches above her head. Sagging cardboard boxes were stacked against the wall to her left. Cobweb-coated rakes and shovels stood on her right. A cursory inspection of the space revealed nothing promising. But then, something caught her attention.

  Where most of the boxes were roughly stacked, most collapsing from the weight of those above them, one section stood out. Here, the boxes were in better condition, arranged in straight columns, and even a bit less dusty than their counterparts. It was almost as if they’d been arranged that way for a specific purpose. Holding her torch in her teeth, she began moving the boxes until finally, at the base of the wall, she uncovered a roughly hewn stone, circular in shape, the faint image of a dragon carved in its surface. A rusted iron ring hung from the dragon’s nose. She took hold of it, its pitted surface cold against her flesh, and pulled.

  Chapter 7

  Caesar’s Spring

  Maddock covered his ears as the grenade boomed inside the cave. Sheltered inside a cleft in the wall, he none the less felt the effects of the blast. Flying fragments of rock sliced into his back and debris rained down on him from above. The floor vibrated beneath his feet and he winced, waiting for the ceiling to collapse.

  After a few seconds of tense waiting, he opened his eyes and uncovered his ringing ears. Smoke filled the cave and the floor was covered with rocks and debris, but it remained structurally sound. He took a step and felt the floor crack. All right. It was sound for the moment.

  “Bones?” he called tentatively. He had no idea where his friend had taken shelter.

  The beam of his dive lamp sliced through the smoke, a fine line of white in the choking darkness. It was like ground zero. The furnishings, already half-rotten, had been blown to splinters. The rusted weapons were shattered. Even the pool through which they’d entered the cave was now covered with debris. Everything was gone.

  Including Bones.

  “Bones! Where the hell are you?”

  Maddock hurried from one pile of rubble to another, pushing debris aside, searching for a si
gn of his friend.

  “Yell, groan, say something so I can find you,” he called to the darkness.

  In response, a large hand poked out from the flotsam-choked pool. Then another. Seconds later, Bones heaved his bulk out into the cavern, rolled onto his back, and lay looking up at the ceiling.

  “Was that you yelling?” he panted. “You weren’t worried about me, were you?”

  “I was afraid you were lying unconscious somewhere and I’d have to haul you out.” Maddock couldn’t hide the relief from his voice. “Risky move, diving into the water like that.”

  “You know me. I jump first and think about it later. It shielded me from the blast, but a whole hell of a lot of ceiling came crashing down on me. I barely got out.”

  “Can we get back out that way?” Maddock asked.

  “Not a chance.”

  Maddock helped Bones to his feet and the two men inspected the cave. There was no longer anything to see except rubble.

  “Not much left,” Bones said. “But I did manage to hold on to our share of the gold. The weight made it harder to swim out again, but I wasn’t leaving here empty-handed.”

  “Assuming we can get out of here at all.” Maddock continued his examination of the cave, but he could see no means of egress.

  “Always the pessimist.” Bones folded his arms and scowled at the small, blackened crater where the grenade had gone off. “Why do you think she did it? It wasn’t about the treasure. She had her half, and killing us wouldn’t get her our share. As soon as she bagged up that ruined journal, she booked it out of here.”

  “I can’t say for certain, but I think it has something to do with this.” Maddock moved to the spot where he’d seen the strange carving on the ground, knelt, and cleared away the debris to reveal a pair of interlocked triangles forming a six-pointed star, surrounded by a circle and six dots. “Do you recognize this?”